mind when you set me the task, I think it must have been, seeing that although I write to you, I cannot post what I write. If so, thank you for the promise you exacted. What would I not give, dearest May, even for a few minutes of your company.
The Ocean Solitude at Station X
6th October.
IF I lived long in this place I should have to become an astronomer. I am not allowed to give you many details, but you know that we are isolated and overlook the sea. When, by day, I sit and watch the ocean around, or, by night, the ocean above, both of which have now become so familiar to me, these seem my real companions, less remote, in spite of their immensity, than the two fellow humans with whom my lot is cast. I think it is the mystery of things that is the attractive power. The sea-birds alone are a perpetual marvel. As long ago as I can remember anything, I remember watching the eagle with wonder and delight; but these sea-birds seem to surpass even him in magic. They come from the invisible distance, sail to and fro, to and fro, up and down, and away again beyond the horizon, and it is even rare to see the beat of a pinion. It is not flying but floating, but the secret of it is their own, or at all events it is beyond the range of my mechanics.
But what are such mysteries compared with those that are spread above? If you have heard me grumble at the monotony of perpetual blue skies, you will never hear me grumble at these nights. It is then I feel the burden of my ignorance, watching nightly the march of these star battalions and not knowing even the name of one. I look forward to being your scholar in this as in other studies, when, if ever, the opportunity comes. No doubt this increased desire for information about the starry hosts is partly because I never knew before that there were so many of them. There must be ten stars here for every one in a Scotch sky at the best of times. But the principal reason is that there would be so much the more to think about, for I have made another discovery, that an ignorant man alone, is more lonely than a man of knowledge can ever be. Yet I dare say the knowledge of the wisest is a small matter compared with the measure of his ignorance.
If I could not turn my thoughts to you, dear May, sometimes, I think I should almost lose my reason. The place, or rather, the circumstances of my life here, are getting on my nerves, and I start almost at a shadow, or the slightest sound, I must indeed pull myself together, and think still more of you and the double pay that is leading to you, and turn my back resolutely upon things "based on nothing," as you say, "cobwebs," as you call them.
I would not have you different from what you are for all the world, and the greatest stroke of luck of my life was finding you. With your level little head and matter-of-fact good sense to guide me, what have I to fear?
It is now the hour for relieving Lieutenant Wilson at the Signal Station; one of us must always be within hearing of the call signal. He has never had to wait for me yet! Good-bye, dear May, until to-morrow.
More About the Chinaman
7th October.
IF these lines were destined to meet your eye at once I would not write them, as they could only worry you. Something has happened. No cobweb this time. My wretched foreboding has always been so vague that it has seemed part of my trouble that I could not tell in what direction to look for it. It never occurred to me that Lieutenant Wilson's temper would pass from an inconvenience into a danger, but what occurred to-day has shown me that in relying on the immovable calm of Ling, I have been building on the sand. The two things may still be quite unconnected, as to-day's affair only concerns me indirectly; but from now I shall live in extra dread of what may happen here.
Ling was a few minutes behind time in the performance of some slight duty, and so had laid himself open to rebuke. This had taken the usual form, and had included the additional feature of the threat of a rope's- ending. When possible, I manage to be absent on these occasions, but I happened just them to be watching the Chinaman, and was startled to see the veil of his everlasting calm for a moment lifted. A look flashed from his entirely transforming his features. Just for one fleeting instant only was it there, but long enough to reveal to me the existence of an unsuspected volcano beneath; then the impenetrable mask again descended. But that glance of fiendish and vindictive hate is enough to show me that my reading of his character was wrong, and that there may be a tragedy here at any time. Never more will I complain of monotonous days. May every day I remain here be as monotonous as hitherto, and may the time at length safely arrive when together we shall laugh all my fears out of countenance. Never did I feel the need of you, dear May, more than now; for if anything of the kind I dread should happen, I fear it would put the finishing touch on my jarred nerves.
An Awful Mystery and Murder
8th October.
CAN it be but yesterday that I wrote the last line in this book? So far as the hours are concerned, it appears even less, for I know nothing of the passage of the greater part of them; but reckoning by events which were crowded into seconds, that time seems ages ago. The bolt has fallen. Never more, May, shall I sit and write you my thoughts in the shadow of that rock on the cliff overlooking the sunlit waves. But I will now, to the best of my ability, write down the awful account of what has happened, and the strange thing that has followed it. I am thankful to have had my nerves sufficiently restored to do so. They are restored, in fact, to an extent that seems wonderful even to myself. A short time ago I was too distracted to write anything.
My last letter to you was written, as usual, while sitting at my favorite spot on the cliff. Having closed the diary on the ominous words I had concluded my letter with, I was sitting half asleep, dreamily watching some sea-birds of tremendous wing, the name of which is unknown to me, and lazily wondering, as I always do, at their easy defiance of the laws of gravitation, when I was suddenly roused more effectually than by clap of thun-
