uched.

On one of these days, too, Ben Boltrope went fishing from the lower
cliffs, just above the bay at the head of the creek--on account of the
sea there being calmer, and no breakers ruffling the water near.

This pursuit would have been tried before, only that amongst the various
articles that had been brought away from the ship there was not a single
fish-hook The old man-o'-war's man, however, had at length managed to
overcome the difficulty, manufacturing in his leisure moments a very
good substitute by beating out some small nails that he had previously
made malleable by putting them in the fire. After spending some hours
angling, Ben returned home with some half a dozen fish about the size of
a small haddock. These had their heads armed with stout strong spines;
but in spite of this peculiarity, they proved under Snowball's
manipulation to be very palatable, and Mr Lathrope, "for one," as he
himself said, regretted that the carpenter had not caught more; he
"guessed" he would have "gone for 'em!"

The interregnum of fine weather did not last long; for, soon the snow
set in falling again as if it would never stop. The days, consequently,
grew unutterably dreary, from the misfortune of all being perforce
confined, as before, to the house by the bitter cold wind; and, to make
matters worse, the snow-flakes now seemed to penetrate through the
tiniest crevices within the hut, so that the air in the interior of the
dwelling was of the temperature of freezing, no matter how great a fire
was kept up!

While this lasted, Mr Meldrum devised all sorts of amusements for the
men.

Amongst other things tried was music, one of the crew having made a
banjo, the strings of which were twisted from the smaller intestines of
the last sea-elephant they had killed; and by the aid of this instrument
harmonic meetings were organised in the evenings, Mr Lathrope
developing an almost forgotten talent he possessed, and coming out as a
comic singer. He absolutely bewitched even the "Major," with his
version of "Buffalo Gals," and the "Cackle, cackle, flap your wings and
crow," chorus of the Christy Minstrels, who certainly, in his person,
did perform on this occasion out of London!

It was at this period, when the days seemed as if they would never end
and the nights longer, that a memorable event occurred for two, at
least, of the party.

Ever since that night of the storm on board the _Nancy Bell_, when she
had, as he firm