At the time that the mate heard the man cry out, the fog cleared for a moment. At that moment the mate saw North Foreland, so we must be past the Straits of Dover. We are now in the North Sea. The fog seems to move along with us. Only God can guide us, and God seems to have forgotten about us.

3 August. At midnight I went to take the place of the man at the wheel. When I got to the wheel there was no one there. The wind was steady, and because it was blowing from behind, the ship sailed smoothly. I dared not leave the wheel, so I shouted for the mate. After a few seconds, he ran up on deck in his pajamas. He looked wild, stressed and very tired. I greatly fear that he has gone mad. He came close to me and put his mouth to my ear. Then he whispered, as though afraid that even the air might hear.

'It is here. I know it now. On the watch last night I saw It. It looked like a man, tall and thin, and horribly pale. It was at the front of the ship looking out. I crept behind It, and stabbed it with my knife. The knife went through It, as though there was nothing.' As he spoke he took the knife and stabbed the empty air.