WHALING AND BEAR-HUNTING 105 



his birthday and incidentally our first really fine day since we 

 left Norway. Our skipper believes in making small celebra- 

 tions on shipboard. He likes to get good work from the men 

 and be friends at the same time, a perfectly possible attain- 

 ment. All hands get a small bottle of light beer, and the 

 steward (cook, he would be called with us) makes pastry 

 for all hands. We begin our festive meal with cormorant 

 fricassee, you could not escape the smell anywhere aft this 

 afternoon. I can't quite rise to cormorant; penguins and 

 several other sea-birds I like ; but there's no accounting for 

 taste, and our mechanicien or engineer, a Swede, simply dotes 

 on cormorants, and regrets leaving the Shetlands and the 

 endless supply of these hard-featured birds. Then we have 

 the pastry, and such pastry I have never seen equalled ; 

 certainly our cook is more than steward, he is a chefl And 

 the bottle of brandy is brought forth (out of bond, one shilling 

 a bottle and not bad at that). Each of us has a little, and it 

 is sent to the fo'c'sle and comes back still half full one 

 bottle for fifteen men and the bottle not empty ! and a box 

 of cigars goes from mess-room to fo'c'sle likewise, and comes 

 back half full, so our crew cannot be said to be extravagant ; 

 then, to complete the celebration, Nansen, the steward, sits 

 on the main-hatch and plays the ship's melodeon, and Rolf, 

 the youngest on board, dances a pas seul on our new floor 

 a dance between a mazurka and hornpipe, with two or three 

 clean somersaults thrown in. He is a pretty dancer, and of 

 good family, I am told, too lively for home, just the sort you 

 need on board ship. He and the steward of the pale face and 

 yellow hair danced together. I could just distinguish them 

 in the dark from the bridge against the light planks of our 

 newly laid working deck. For a moment, whilst the skipper 

 played, my heart stood still ! for the steward nearly went 

 over our low bulwarks at a roll from the swell his exquisite 

 pastry flashed across my mind. 



We saw Sule skerry twinkling in the night a few miles 

 to starboard. I would like to make a visit there, it would 

 be such a soothing place to live on, the solitude must be so 

 emphatic, for it is equidistant from Orkney and Cape Wrath, 

 and out of sight of either. In the morning the light on Cape 



