THE LAST OF THE JEANNETTE. 543 



between the ceiling and bulwark, is melting slowly 

 but steadily, and as the ship has a list of 2° to port, 

 several little streams trickle out from the water-ways 

 in my room and from under the chart drawers, and 

 make unpleasant little puddles. If dried up as soon as 

 they are seen no great inconvenience results ; but if 

 not earlier attended to they spread and find their way 

 down below through the ventilating holes bored in the 

 deck, or in some cases, as I am sorry to see, through 

 the deck seams. I do not think that such was the case 

 last spring. 



I frequently wonder how long a body of men could 

 stand this enforced monotony of existence without giv- 

 ing up altogether. There is no way of solving the 

 problem except by our own experience, for we have 

 had a greater amount of it thus far than any others on 

 record. My own sensations are those of unmitigated 

 disgust, and I suppose the sensations of others are 

 similar to my own. I do not care to commit to paper 

 even my own ideas and feelings. The probabilities are 

 that I shall never forget them, and that hereafter they 

 will be pushing themselves to the front of my mind in 

 spite of my efforts to keep them back. 



May lZth, Friday. — To-day I observed Aneguin 

 cutting up a curious looking thing like a block of 

 pasteboard for our dogs, which were standing around 

 expectantly. Upon asking him what it was, he replied, 

 "Pie." "What?" said I, wonderingly. " Pie," said 

 he. Curious to know how pie ever came in that shape, 

 I examined carefully a package, and just managed to 

 decipher the word " pumpkin," and, of course, at once 

 knew it was a condemned package of dried pumpkin. 

 As Aneguin has eaten pumpkin pie on board, he at 

 once gave the name of pie to the vegetable itself, and 



