90 
Godfrey’s meat. 
have called all hands, and announced it as a standing 
order of the ship, and one to be observed inflexibly, 
that desertion, or the attempt to desert, shall be met 
at once by the sternest penalty. I have no alternative. 
By the body of my crew, sick, dependent, unable to 
move, and with every thing to lose by the withdrawal 
of any portion of our efficient force, this announcement 
was received as a guarantee of their personal safety. 
But it was called for by other grave considerations. 
There is at this time on the part of all, men as well as 
officers, a warm feeling toward myself, and a strict, 
stanch fidelity to the expedition. But, for moral rea¬ 
sons which would control me, even if my impulse were 
different, I am constrained for the time to mingle 
among them without reserve, to act as a servant to 
their wants, to encourage colloquial equality and good- 
humor; and, looking only a little way ahead to the 
juncture when a perfectly-regulated subordination will 
become essential, I know that my present stand will 
be of value. 
“This sledge-load of Godfrey’s meat, coming as it 
does, may well be called a Godsend: one may forgive 
the man in consideration of the good which it has done 
us all. We have had a regular feed all round, and 
exult to think we need no catering for the morrow. It 
has cheered our downhearted sick men wonderfully. 
Our brew of beer, too,—the ‘Arctic Linseed Mucilage 
Adaptation,’—turns out excellent. Our grunts and 
growls are really beginning to have a good-natured 
twang. Our faces lessen as our shadows promise to 
