In the mid-1800s a strange ship was discovered by Captain Brighton of the whaler Hope. It was floating out of one of the chasms that had opened up in the disintegrating walls of ice. Its decks were wreathed in ice and snow, its sails hanging in tattered and frozen shreds, its rigging broken and rotten, and the vessel itself crushed and splintered, but still she floated. What terrified Brighton’s men was the crew of the wreck-ship in front of them; seven men standing upright and encased in steel-hard ice, like so many statues of stone.
An hour later Brighton boarded the ship and went below to see what he might find. When he opened the master’s cabin door, he was confronted with a man sitting at his desk with pen in hand, clearly about to write in the logbook in front of him; it was clearly the captain of the stricken ship. He was dead, and frozen to boot.
Brighton then checked the log on the desk. The ship was the English schooner Jenny, and the final entry read, “No food for 71 days. I am the only one left alive.” it was dated May 4th, 1823; thirty-seven years earlier.
“He has helped me a lot. He told where to put my shoes and all those little things you need to know when you’re new. I imagine it can be difficult if you do not have someone to help you at a new club.”