Only once did I, in my trances, get a hint of the period preceding the time spent on the island.  This begins at the moment of the brig’s collision with the iceberg, and I shall narrate it, if for no other reason, at least to give an account of my curiously cool and deliberate conduct.  This conduct at this time, as you shall see, was what enabled me in the end to survive alone of all the ship’s company.

I was awakened, in my bunk in the forecastle, by a terrific crash.  In fact, as was true of the other six sleeping men of the watch below, awaking and leaping from bunk to floor were simultaneous.  We knew what had happened.  The others waited for nothing, rushing only partly clad upon deck.  But I knew what to expect, and I did wait.  I knew that if we escaped at all, it would be by the longboat.  No man could swim in so freezing a sea.  And no man, thinly clad, could live long in the open boat.  Also, I knew just about how long it would take to launch the boat.

So, by the light of the wildly swinging slush-lamp, to the tumult on deck and to cries of “She’s sinking!” I proceeded to ransack my sea-chest for suitable garments.  Also, since they would never use them again, I ransacked the sea chests of my shipmates.  Working quickly but collectedly, I took nothing but the warmest and stoutest of clothes.  I put on the four best woollen shirts the forecastle boasted, three pairs of pants, and three pairs of thick woollen socks.  So large were my feet thus incased that I could not put on my own good boots.  Instead, I thrust on Nicholas Wilton’s new boots, which were larger and even stouter than mine.  Also, I put on Jeremy Nalor’s pea jacket over my own, and, outside of both, put on Seth Richard’s thick canvas coat which I remembered he had fresh-oiled only a short while previous.

Two pairs of heavy mittens, John Robert’s muffler which his mother had knitted for him, and Joseph Dawes’ beaver cap atop my own, both bearing ear-and neck-flaps, completed my outfitting.  The shouts that the brig was sinking redoubled, but I took a minute longer to fill my pockets with all the plug tobacco I could lay hands on.  Then I climbed out on deck, and not a moment too soon.

The moon, bursting through a crack of cloud, showed a bleak and savage picture.  Everywhere was wrecked gear, and everywhere was ice.  The sails, ropes, and spars of the mainmast, which was still standing, were fringed with icicles; and there came over me a feeling almost of relief in that never again should I have to pull and haul on the stiff tackles and hammer ice so that the frozen ropes could run through the frozen shivs.  The wind, blowing half a gale, cut with the sharpness that is a sign of the proximity of icebergs; and the big seas were bitter cold to look upon in the moonlight.

The longboat was lowering away to larboard, and I saw men, struggling on the ice-sheeted deck with barrels of provisions, abandon the food in their haste to get away.  In vain Captain Nicholl strove with them.  A sea, breaching across from windward, settled the matter and sent them leaping over the rail in heaps.  I gained the captain’s shoulder, and, holding on to him, I shouted in his ear that if he would board the boat and prevent the men from casting off, I would attend to the provisioning.