Sorry I am nube here

The thermometer is at nineteen Fahrenheit today. 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 afterhold 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.
Many will doubtless wonder why I have not proclaimed myself before,
and why I have suffered so many conjectures and surmises to pass
unchallenged. Could the ends of justice have been served in any way by my
revealing the facts in my possession I should unhesitatingly have done so.
It seemed to me, however, that there was no possibility of such a result;
and when I attempted, after the occurrence, to state my case to an English
official, I was met with such offensive incredulity that I determined
never again to expose myself to the chance of such an indignity. I can
excuse the discourtesy of the Liverpool magistrate, however, when I
reflect upon the treatment which I received at the hands of my own
relatives, who, though they knew my unimpeachable character, listened to
my statement with an indulgent smile as if humouring the delusion of a
monomaniac. This slur upon my veracity led to a quarrel between myself and
John Vanburger, the brother of my wife, and confirmed me in my resolution
to let the matter sink into oblivion - a determination which I have only
altered through my son's solicitations. In order to make my narrative
intelligible, I must run lightly over one or two incidents in my former
life which throw light upon subsequent events.
Imperceptibly a mist gathered about the carven stonework, and I only
beheld it through a haze of fine golden dust, like the motes that
hover in the bars of sunlight slanting through the air of a chamber.
Suddenly the stone lacework of the rose windows gleamed through this
vapor that had made all forms so shadowy. Every moulding, the edges of
every carving, the least detail of the sculpture was dipped in silver.
The sunlight kindled fires in the stained windows, their rich colors
sent out glowing sparks of light. The shafts began to tremble, the
capitals were gently shaken. A light shudder as of delight ran through
the building, the stones were loosened in their setting, the wall-
spaces swayed with graceful caution. Here and there a ponderous pier
moved as solemnly as a dowager when she condescends to complete a
quadrille at the close of a ball. A few slender and graceful columns,
their heads adorned with wreaths of trefoil, began to laugh and dance
here and there. Some of the pointed arches dashed at the tall lancet
windows, who, like ladies of the Middle Ages, wore the armorial
bearings of their houses emblazoned on their golden robes. The dance
of the mitred arcades with the slender windows became like a fray at a
tourney.
A man's outer case generally gives some indication of the soul
within. The Captain is tall and well-formed, with dark, handsome face, and
a curious way of twitching his limbs, which may arise from nervousness, or
be simply an outcome of his excessive energy. His jaw and whole cast of
countenance is manly and resolute, but the eyes are the distinctive
feature of his face. They are of the very darkest hazel, bright and eager,
with a singular mixture of recklessness in their expression, and of
something else which I have sometimes thought was more allied with horror
than any other emotion. Generally the former predominated, but on
occasions, and more particularly when he was thoughtfully inclined, the
look of fear would spread and deepen until it imparted a new character to
his whole countenance. It is at these times that he is most subject to
tempestuous fits of anger, and he seems to be aware of it, for I have
known him lock himself up so that no one might approach him until his dark
hour was passed. He sleeps badly, and I have heard him shouting during the
night, but his cabin is some little distance from mine, and I could never
distinguish the words which he said.
We had hardly gone a hundred yards before M`Donald of Peterhead cried
out that he saw something in front of us, and began to run. We all got a
glimpse of it and ran too. At first it was only a vague darkness against
the white ice, but as we raced along together it took the shape of a man,
and eventually of the man of whom we were in search. He was lying face
downwards upon a frozen bank. Many little crystals of ice and feathers of
snow had drifted on to him as he lay, and sparkled upon his dark seaman's
jacket. As we came up some wandering puff of wind caught these tiny flakes
in its vortex, and they whirled up into the air, partially descended
again, and then, caught once more in the current, sped rapidly away in the
direction of the sea. To my eyes it seemed but a snow-drift, but many of
my companions averred that it started up in the shape of a woman, stooped
over the corpse and kissed it, and then hurried away across the floe. I
have learned never to ridicule any man's opinion, however strange it may
seem. Sure it is that Captain Nicholas Craigie had met with no painful
end, for there was a bright smile upon his blue pinched features, and his
hands were still outstretched as though grasping at the strange visitor
which had summoned him away into the dim world that lies beyond the grave.