FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 
153 
patch of sunlight, working at the mats and grommets for 
the oars against the time when we go whaling. 
George has brought his grey linnet on deck, such a 
small pet for such a big man ! He has placed its cage on 
the engine-room skylight, where the little chap flirts his 
wings in the sunlight and sings a long, thready tune, 
without beginning or end, all about summer, and love, and 
flowers, and green loanings. Surely he knows that we are 
nearing land, and perhaps, £ Only two more days from the 
Falklands J is the refrain of his song. All through the 
tropics and the Doldrums he only twittered very quietly ; 
now he is singing his little throat sore George, as he 
sprinkles fresh sand in the cage, is humming ' Only two 
more days for Johnnie, two more days,' and we at the 
pumps are singing the chantie with hope in our hearts : 
c Only two more days of pumping, 
Two more days. 
Oh ! rock, and roll me over, 
Only two more days. 
Two more days till we jump on to firm ground and 
stretch our weather-beaten limbs and drink milk and eat 
fresh food. 
How we long for land ! The water is done, so we must 
of necessity land and fill the tanks. The salt beef holds 
out, but we are very tired of it. There is any amount of 
it below, so we are told, in the 'tween-decks, pickled in 
brine in great casks. They say there are cows and sheep 
in the Falklands. What nice animals they are ! What 
a world of suggestion in the mere word Cow — of milk, 
and cream, and the sweet fragrance of juicy steak ! 
