The wind is freshening up, and blows steadily from the north. The
nights are as dark now as they are in England. I hope to-morrow
may set us free from our frozen fetters.

September 17th.--The Bogie again. Thank Heaven that I have
strong nerves! The superstition of these poor fellows, and the
circumstantial accounts which they give, with the utmost
earnestness and self-conviction, would horrify any man not
accustomed to their ways. There are many versions of the matter,
but the sum-total of them all is that something uncanny has been
flitting round the ship all night, and that Sandie M`Donald of
Peterhead and "lang" Peter Williamson of Shetland saw it, as also
did Mr. Milne on the bridge--so, having three witnesses, they can
make a better case of it than the second mate did. I spoke to
Milne after breakfast, and told him that he should be above such
nonsense, and that as an officer he ought to set the men a better
example. He shook his weatherbeaten head ominously, but answered
with characteristic caution, "Mebbe aye, mebbe na, Doctor," he
said; "I didna ca' it a ghaist. I canna' say I preen my faith in
sea-bogles an' the like, though there's a mony as claims to ha'
seen a' that and waur. I'm no easy feared, but maybe your ain
bluid would run a bit cauld, mun, if instead o' speerin' aboot it
in daylicht ye were wi' me last night, an' seed an awfu' like
shape, white an' gruesome, whiles here, whiles there, an' it
greetin' and ca'ing in the darkness like a bit lambie that hae lost
its mither. Ye would na' be sae ready to put it a' doon to
auld wives' clavers then, I'm thinkin'." I saw it was hopeless to
reason with him, so contented myself with begging him as a personal
favour to call me up the next time the spectre appeared--a request
to which he acceded with many ejaculations expressive of his hopes