154 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 
Not till this moment did we realise with Keats what * A 
thing of beauty 1 is the * simple sheep.' How full of sweet 
dreams, and health, and the pleasant sound of frizzling 
chops. 
It is this diet of pork and salt horse, I suppose, that 
makes us so poetical. The men are even getting poetical 
over their menus, and the tenor of their minstrelsy is : — 
4 Pork and peas, as much as you please, 
Beef and duff, not half enough !' 
The fair wind fell this evening, and we got up steam, 
for which every one was thankful, especially those who 
reside in the neighbourhood of the engines, for the heat 
dries our bunks, and we can get our bedding and clothes 
dried in the stoke-hole. The engine-room has been as 
cold and wet as a cellar lately, coals being considered 
much too valuable to allow of the engineers keeping 
the place dry and warm, so the engineers have had a 
bad time lately. Our worthy chfef engineer is nearly 
doubled up with rheumatics. Bruce recommended a 
course of massage to him, but he does not care for ' they 
new-fangled medicines.' He has a cure of his own 'as 
guid as Sequah's prairie ile.' 
It seems as if we were never going to get to those 
Falkland Islands. The two days which we thought would 
bring us into Stanley Harbour have come and gone, and 
still our little screw is drilling away. 
The men are going about borrowing envelopes and 
writing paper, and testing rusty nibs on tarry thumb- 
nails. It is unlucky to write before you make your port ; 
but we have not much faith in our luck, so we write away, 
