"You will think very badly of me for leaving you, but the
enclosed which I implore you not to open until you have seen the
last of the Star of the South, will explain my reason and I hope
clear my reputation. I thank you again and again for all your
kindness and pray that the Spirits who rule the world may bless
and preserve you, also the Doctor and Mr. Bastin."


This letter, which left the fate of Jacobsen quite unsolved,
for it might mean either that he had deserted or drowned himself,
I put away with the enclosure in my pocket. Of course there was
no obligation on me to refrain from opening the letter, but I
shrank from doing so both from some kind of sense of honour and,
to tell the truth, for fear of what it might contain. I felt that
this would be disagreeable; also, although there was nothing to
connect them together, I bethought me of the scene when Jacobsen
had smashed the planchette.

On my return to the deck I said nothing whatsoever about the
discovery of the letter, but only remarked that on reflection I
had changed my mind and agreed with the captain that it would be
unwise to attempt to return in order to look for Jacobsen. So the
boatswain, a capable individual who had seen better days, was
promoted to take his watches and we went on as before. How
curiously things come about in the world! For nautical reasons
that were explained to me, but which I will not trouble to set
down, if indeed I could remember them, I believe that if we had
returned to Apia we should have missed the great gale and
subsequent cyclone, and with these much else. But it was not so
fated.