EFFECTS OF NIGHT. 
291 
maintain toward each other that honest courtesy of 
manner, which those who have sailed on long voyages 
together know to he the rarest and most difficult proof 
of mutual respect. There were of course seasons 
when each had his home thoughts, and revolved per- 
haps the growing probabilities that some other Arctic- 
search party might seek in vain hereafter for a memo- 
rial of our own ; yet these were never topics of con- 
versation. I do not remember to have been saddened 
by a boding word during all the trials of our cruise. 
With the men, however, it was different. More de- 
ficient in the resources of education, and less restrained 
by conventional usages or the principle of honor from 
communicating to each other what they felt, all sym- 
pathized in the imaginary terrors which each one con- 
jured up. The wild voices of the ice and wind, the 
strange sounds that issued from the ship, the hum- 
mocks bursting up without an apparent cause through 
the darkness, the cracks and the dark rushing water 
that filled them, the distorted wonder-workings of re- 
fraction ; in a word, all that could stimulate, or sicken, 
or oppress the fancy, was a day and nightmare dream 
for the forecastle. 
We were called up one evening by the deck- watch 
to see for ourselves a “ ball of fire floating up and down 
above the ice-field.” It was there sure enough, a disk 
of reddish flame, varying a little in its outline, and 
flickering in the horizon like a revolving light at a dis- 
tance. I was at first as much puzzled as the men ; 
but glancing at Orion, I soon saw that it was nothing 
else than our old dog-star friend, bright Sirius, come 
hack to us. Refraction had raised him above the hills, 
so as to bring him to view a little sooner than we ex- 
pected. His color was rather more lurid than when 
