294 WHALING AND BEAR-HUNTING 



of a mechanical genius than an artist. William's sister 

 Christabel behaves well on the whole, takes lots of tinned 

 milk and water. Poor old Starboard, he really looked pathetic 

 after his big effort this morning ; he is black, or brown-black 

 now, as I have already mentioned, and his black eyes, 

 by contrast, look light brown, so does his nose. No one 

 would take him for an ice-bear. His voice changed after the 

 effort, and he made a sort of piteous sound instead of chal- 

 lenging and held his mouth open, and I suggested water, and 

 Archie poured a pail of fresh water into his feeding drawer 

 from a chink in the roof of the cage, and he eagerly lapped it 

 up and went off to sleep. They have plenty of salt water a 

 small sea came over the bows a little while ago, and swept 

 away every chip they had torn ; incidentally it swept into 

 an open bunker and nearly drowned the Prophet, who was 

 acting as stoker in the engine-room. He came on deck look- 

 ing rather wet and depressed and fossicked round and got the 

 cover of the stokehold closed ; it was under a bear's cage, 

 so it was not so easy. In the ice the Prophet was a jolly 

 bear-hunter, with lasso round his shoulder (which he could 

 not throw), also he was clean and "the Prophet." With 

 such yellow curly hair and eyebrows and blue eyes and pink, 

 clean face he seemed essentially an ice-man ; it is rather a 

 come-down to be merely a black stoker homeward bound at 

 the end of a cruise, and with nothing to prophesy. 



My word, it is time to shut my cabin door on this early 

 morning. Starboard bear and a starboard cabin ! and the 

 bear awake and growling hell and thunder, and a big sea 

 running too. Blow his money value we say ! 



Everyone is rather tired of the violent ceaseless movement 

 and the drenching of spray, but our two youngest Spaniards, 

 in heavy coats, make merry over it, sitting up on the bridge 

 and chatting and singing continuously, pluckily keeping 

 their spirits up. I think they would do the same even if we 

 had a full-fledged gale. 



Our musical steward, sad to say, has felt the roughness of 

 the trip, fog and wind combined, and this afternoon we were 

 anxious about him, rolled him up very tight in blankets and 

 put a hot bottle at his feet, for he was throwing up blood and 



