FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 45 
bringing thoughts of land into this horizon-bound prison. 
They had but an unkind reception. Our mate dropped 
the first arrival on deck with my gun : I supplied the 
gun, and he took the risk of the evil consequences that 
might follow so inhospitable a deed. At mid-day there 
was another cry : £ a hak, a hak ! J and all hands stopped 
work and looked aloft at the little traveller, which lighted 
finally on ^the mizzen gaff, and another shot dropped 
him on the poop as we rolled to windward. I wonder 
where they were bound for? 
A few more days of this perfect weather, with the sails 
looking after themselves, and the mate will find it hard to 
get work enough to keep the crew busy. We have over 
forty men forward, but as yet there seems to be work for 
all hands. We have hardly any modern wire -rigging, so 
our ship's toilet, being all of rope, requires constant look- 
ing to, serving, tarring, and a hundred little attentions. 
The air is full of golden light this evening. Rosy 
reflections touch the sides of the deep purple swell. Our 
masts and rigging and broad sails show dark against the 
sunset. Vague groups of men sit about the deck, some 
playing and some dancing, their outlines so blended and 
softened as to be almost indistinguishable. Amber light 
pours over the bulwarks ; it falls white on the neck of a 
man reading, burns red on the turn of a brown cheek, and 
sparkles on the wet skin of another washing — detached 
spots of colour that give transparency to the low tones of 
the shadowed deck. 
On such an evening, when every atom seems trembling 
