YULETIDE ON A 15-TONNEIl 169 



do fetch 'em down and smash 'em up ! " said old Gilson, 

 as he gathered the dead pintail with the cripple-net ; 

 adding, " It were eighty yards off, if it were an inch." 



It was now nearly midday, and Jack and my- 

 self tossed to decide which of us should go below 

 and cook the mutton-chops and potatoes for luncheon. 

 I cried " Head ! " but, as is usually the case, his 

 Majesty's effigy in silver fell face downward, and I 

 therefore crawled forward to the fo'c'stle to attend to 

 my culinary duties. Thanks, however, to the famous 

 little stove with which the vawl was furnished, 



si ~ 



within half -an -hour's time I was able to announce that 

 tiffin was ready to be eaten on the swing-table in the 

 snug little cabin. 



We were in the middle of lunch when old Gilson, who 



had relieved M at the tiller, shouted down to us that 



a masterful girt snow-cloud was driving up from the 

 nor' -east. My friend, who poses as a kind of human 

 barometer, calmly remarked that he knew quite well the 

 instant he got out of bed that morning that it would 

 snow before night, and had been watching for that 

 particular cloud ever since we left the Blackwater. I 

 wondered why he had preserved in secret the knowledge 

 of the approaching snowstorm until that moment ; 

 but not wishing to appear dubious of his infallibility as 

 a weather-prophet, I held my peace, and donned an extra 

 sweater. Upon returning on deck, we found that a 

 great mass of dark snow-clouds were driving threaten- 

 ingly towards us, and that although not a single flake 



