1596. WILLIAM BARENTZ. 155 



was, and to all appearance perfectly hopeless, they 

 could even jest and make themselves merry. " On 

 Christmas-day," says the writer, " it was foule 

 wether, with a north-west wind, and yet though it 

 was foule wether we heard the foxes run over our 

 house, wherewith some of our men said it was an 

 ill signe; and while we sate disputing why it 

 should be an ill signe, some of our men made 

 answere that it was an ill signe because we could 

 not take them to put them into the pot to rost 

 them, for that had beene a very good signe for us." 

 And after labouring hard all the day of the 5th of 

 January in digging away the snow that had for 

 several days blocked up their door, and cleaned out 

 their hut, " we remembered ourselves," says the 

 narrator, " that it was Twelfth-even, and then w^e 

 prayed our Maister that we might be merry that 

 night, and said that we were content to spend 

 some of the wine that night which we had spared, 

 and which was our share every second day, and 

 whereof for certaine dales we had not drunke; 

 and so that night we made merry and drunke to 

 the three kings, and therewith we had the pound 

 of meale whereof we made pancakes with oyle, and 

 every man a white bisket, which we sopt in wine : 

 and so supposing that we were in our ownc 

 country and amongst our friends, it comforted us 

 as well as if we had made a great banket in our 

 owne house; and we also made tickets, and our 

 gunner was king of Nova Zembla, \vhich is at 



