"I find no more entries till several days later," he said, "then comes this one:
"'Since last I wrote I have encountered a fearful experience. The night succeeding the occasion on which the two villains left the ship, a terrific gale came up off shore. Unable to reef sail single-handed, I was compelled to cut the cable and head out for sea. For three days we scudded before the gale. The canvas was torn to ribbons, and one after another my masts went. I managed to cut the wreckage free with an axe.
. . . . . .
"'Some days later. What is happening to the ship? She is being drawn by some strong but invisible current. There is no wind, but she is moving fairly fast. What can be going to happen to me? One thing is sure, I am out of the track of ocean vessels. Heaven help me, for I fear I am beyond human aid!'"
"The poor fellow's mind evidently gave way soon after this," said the ensign; "the entries grow disjointed and wild. He declares the cabin is haunted. That the ghosts of the dead mutineers haunt the ship. At last they cease abruptly with the words, 'God be merciful to me, I am going mad.'"
A silence fell over the party in the dead mariner's cabin. The mystery, the spell of the horror of it all, was strong upon them. In each lad's mind was a vivid picture of the unfortunate captain held in the grip of a strange current, being driven day by day further from the track of ships, while his fevered mind pictured ghostly forms all about him.
"How do you suppose his death came?" asked Rob, after the silence had endured some moments.
"I have an ugly suspicion which I shall soon verify," said the ensign; "you boys wait here for a time."
Alone he reëntered the deck-house, where sat the dead seaman. When he returned his face was very grave.
"Boys, my suspicions were correct," he said; "by the man's side I found a pistol. Undoubtedly, crazed by despair, he ended his life."