The thermometer is at nineteen Fahrenheit to-day. There is but
little wind, and what there is comes from an unfavourable quarter.
Captain is in an excellent humour; I think he imagines he has seen
some other omen or vision, poor fellow, during the night, for he
came into my room early in the morning, and stooping down over
my bunk, whispered, "It wasn't a delusion, Doc; it's all right!"
After breakfast he asked me to find out how much food was left,
which the second mate and I proceeded to do. It is even less than
we had expected. Forward they have half a tank full of biscuits,
three barrels of salt meat, and a very limited supply of coffee
beans and sugar. In the after-hold and lockers there are a good
many luxuries, such as tinned salmon, soups, haricot mutton, &c.,
but they will go a very short way among a crew of fifty men. There
are two barrels of flour in the store-room, and an unlimited supply
of tobacco. Altogether there is about enough to keep the men on
half rations for eighteen or twenty days--certainly not more. When
we reported the state of things to the Captain, he ordered all
hands to be piped, and addressed them from the quarterdeck. I
never saw him to better advantage. With his tall, well-knit
figure, and dark animated face, he seemed a man born to command,
and he discussed the situation in a cool sailor-like way which
showed that while appreciating the danger he had an eye for every
loophole of escape.
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