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The Captain of the Polestar by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
page 25 of 293 (08%)
shaken off all these associations, I should despise myself for
having been so weak.

September 18th.--Passed a restless and uneasy night, still
haunted by that strange sound. The Captain does not look as if he
had had much repose either, for his face is haggard and his eyes
bloodshot. I have not told him of my adventure of last night, nor
shall I. He is already restless and excited, standing up, sitting
down, and apparently utterly unable to keep still.

A fine lead appeared in the pack this morning, as I had
expected, and we were able to cast off our ice-anchor, and steam
about twelve miles in a west-sou'-westerly direction. We were then
brought to a halt by a great floe as massive as any which we have
left behind us. It bars our progress completely, so we can do
nothing but anchor again and wait until it breaks up, which it will
probably do within twenty-four hours, if the wind holds. Several
bladder-nosed seals were seen swimming in the water, and one was
shot, an immense creature more than eleven feet long. They are
fierce, pugnacious animals, and are said to be more than a match
for a bear. Fortunately they are slow and clumsy in their
movements, so that there is little danger in attacking them upon
the ice.

The Captain evidently does not think we have seen the last of our
troubles, though why he should take a gloomy view of the situation
is more than I can fathom, since every one else on board considers
that we have had a miraculous escape, and are sure now to reach the
open sea.

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