Then he went on, 'But It is here, and I'll find It. It is in the cargo hold, perhaps in one of those boxes. I'll unscrew them one by one and check. You keep steering the ship.' He gave me a warning look, put his finger on his lip, and went below. The wind had suddenly grown stronger, and I could not leave the wheel.

I saw him come out on deck again with a toolbox and lantern. Then he went to the cargo hold. He is mad, completely mad, and it's no use trying to stop him. He can't hurt those big boxes. They are listed as having clay inside. Pulling them around is the most harmless thing he can do. So here I stay. I steer the ship, and write these notes. I can only trust in God and wait till the fog clears. Then, if I can't steer to any harbour with the wind blowing from this direction, I shall cut down the sails, wait, and signal for help.

It is nearly all over now. I was beginning to hope that the mate would be calmer when he came out. I heard him hammering something below, and work is good for him. Instead I suddenly heard a surprised and frightened scream. It made my blood turn to ice. Up on the deck he came as if shot from a gun. He was a complete madman, with his eyes rolling and his face twisted with fear.