THE "BGGEES" OP LABBABOE. 261 



herself is a shabby thing ; her sails are patched with stolen pieces 

 of better canvas, the owners of which have probably been stranded 

 on some inhospitable coast, and have been plundered, perhaps 

 murdered, by the wretches before us. Look at her again. Her 

 sides are neither painted nor even pitched ; no, they are daubed 

 ovei', plastered and patched with stripes of seal-skins, laid along 

 the seams. Her deck has never been washed or sanded, her 

 hold — for no cabin has she — though at present empty, sends 

 forth an odour pestilential as that of a charnel-house. The 

 crew, eight in number, lie sleeping at the foot of their tottering 

 mast, regardless of the repairs needed in every part of her 

 rigging. But see ! she scuds along, and, as I suspect her crew 

 to be bent on the commission of some evil deed, let us follow 

 her to the first harbour. There rides the filthy thing ! The 

 afternoon is half over. Her crew have thrown their boat over- 

 board ; they enter and seat themselves, one with a rusty gun. 

 One of them sculls the skifi' towards an island, for a century 

 past the breeding-place of myriads of guillemots, which are 

 now to be laid under contribution. At the approach of the vile 

 thieves, clouds of birds rise from the rock and fill the air around, 

 wheeling and screaming over their enemies ; yet thousanda 

 remain in an erect posture, each covering its single egg, the 

 hope of both parents. The reports of several muskets loaded 

 with heavy shot are now heard, while several dead and wounded 

 birds fall heavily on the rock or into the water. Instantly all 

 the sitting birds rise and fly off affriglited to their companionrv 

 above, and hover in dismay over their assassins, who walk 

 forward exultingly, and with their shouts mingling oaths and 

 execrations. Look at them ! See how they crush the chick 

 within its shell ! how they trample on every egg in their way 

 with their huge and clumsy boots ! Onwards they go, and when 

 they leave the isle not an egg that they can find is left 

 entire. The dead birds they collect and carry to their boat. 

 Now they have regained their filthy shallop, they strip the 

 birds by a single jerk of their feathery apparel, while the flesh 

 is yet warm, and throw them on some coals, where in a short 

 time they are broiled : the rum is produced when the guille- 

 mots are fit for eating, and after stufSng themselves with 

 this oily fare, and enjoying the pleasures of beastly intoxir 



