I saw him come out on deck again with a tool chest and lantern, and go down the forward hatchway.

He is mad, stark, raving mad, and it's no use my trying to stop him.

He can't hurt those big boxes, they are invoiced as clay, and to pull them about is as harmless a thing as he can do.

So here I stay and mind the helm, and write these notes.

I can only trust in God and wait till the fog clears.