WELLINGTON CHANNEL. 
213 
ed barricades of last night's commotion ; and, after cool- 
ing myself for forty minutes in an atmosphere ten de- 
grees above zero, came back without a shot. The 
condensed moisture had so affected my powder that I 
could not get my gun off. 
" This condensation is now very troublesome, drip- 
ping down from our carlines, and sweating over the 
roof and berth-boards. When we open the hatchway, 
the steam rises in clouds from the little cabin below. 
"We have as yet no fires ; worse! the state of un- 
certainty in which we are placed makes it impossible 
to resort to any winter arrangements. Yet these lard 
lamps give us a temperature of 46°, which to men like 
ourselves, used to constant out-door exercise, exposure, 
and absence of artificial heat, is quite genial. But for 
the moisture — ^that wretched, comfortless, rheumatic 
drawback — we would be quite snug. 
" Our captain is the best of sailors ; but, intent al- 
ways on the primary objects and duties of his cruise, 
he is apt to forget or postpone a provident regard for 
those creature-comforts which have interest for others. 
To-day, with the thermometer at 10°, we for the first 
time commenced the manufacture of stove-pipes. I 
need not say that the cold metal played hob with the 
tinkers. If they go on at the present rate, the pipes 
will be nearly ready by next summer. 
September 26. The hummocks around us still re- 
main without apparent motion, heaped up like snow- 
covered barriers of street rioters. We are wedged in 
a huge mass of tables, completely out of water, cra- 
dled by ice. I wish it would give us an even keel. 
We are eighteen inches higher on one quarter than 
the other. 
"The two large pools we observed yesterday, one on 
