JANUARY 25.—Last night was very misty¹, and for some unaccountable reason, one of the hottest that can be imagined. The atmosphere was really so stifling², that it seemed as if it only required a spark to set it alight. The raft was not only quite stationary³, but did not even rise and fall with any motion of the waves.  
During the night I tried to count how many there were now on board, but I was utterly⁴ unable to collect my ideas sufficiently⁵ to make the enumeration⁶. Sometimes I counted ten, sometimes twelve, and although I knew that eleven, since Jynxstrop was dead, was the correct number, I could never bring my reckoning right. Of one thing I felt quite sure, and that was that the number would very soon be ten. I was convinced that I could myself last but very little longer. All the events and associations of my life passed rapidly through my brain. My country, my friends, and my family all appeared as it were in a vision, and seemed as though they had come to bid me a last farewell.
 
Toward morning I woke from my sleep, if the languid stupor⁷ into which I had fallen was worthy⁸ of that name. One fixed⁹ idea had taken possession of my brain—I would put an end to myself; and I felt a sort of pleasure as I gloated over the power that I had to terminate my sufferings. I told Curtis, with the utmost composure, of my intention, and he received the intelligence as calmly as it was delivered.
 
"Of course you will do as you please," he said; "for my own part, I shall not abandon my post. It is my duty to remain here; and unless death comes to carry me away, I shall stay where I am to the very last."
 
The dull gray fog still hung heavily over the ocean, but the sun was evidently shining above the mist, and would, in course of time, dispel¹⁰ the vapor¹¹. Toward seven o'clock I fancied I heard the cries of birds above my head. The sound was repeated three times, and as I went up to the captain to ask him about it, I heard him mutter to himself:
 
"Birds! Why, that looks as if land were not far off."
 
But although Curtis might still cling to the hope of reaching land, I knew not what it was to have one sanguine¹² thought. For me there was neither continent nor island; the world was one fluid sphere, uniform, monotonous¹³, as in the most primitive¹⁴ period of its formation. Nevertheless it must be owned that it was with a certain amount of impatience¹⁵ that I awaited the rising of the mist, for I was anxious to shake off the phantom¹⁶ fallacies that Curtis's words had suggested to my mind.
 
Not till eleven o'clock did the fog begin to break, and as it rolled in heavy folds along the surface of the water, I could every now and then catch glimpses of a clear blue sky beyond. Fierce sunbeams pierced the cloud-rifts, scorching¹⁷ and burning our bodies like red-hot iron; but it was only above our heads that there was any sunlight to condense the vapor; the horizon was still quite invisible. There was no wind, and for half an hour longer the fog hung heavily round the raft, while Curtis, leaning against the side, strove to penetrate¹⁸ the obscurity. At length the sun burst forth^{19............}