.

We continued standing to the northward; and, as far as we could learn,
we were considerably to the eastward of Newfoundland. The change of
temperature made us glad of warm clothing; but as yet there was no cold
to be complained of. We might have guessed that we were approaching the
arctic regions, by the character of the numberless sea-fowl which at
times surrounded us. We were now, I believe, in latitude 54 degrees or
55 degrees; but I am uncertain, from the reasons I before stated.

Our officers had their guns on deck, and amused themselves by shooting
as many of the birds which came in their way as they could; but my
messmates called them by the various names of shearwaters, boatswains,
kittiwakes, dovekies, Mollymokes or Mollies, gulls, buntings, and many
others, whose names I forget. Those the officers did not want were
given to the crew, who were in no ways particular as to the nature of
the fresh meat they could procure. The shearwaters especially we found
very good, particularly when made into pies. For the purpose of
enabling us to make crust, a greater quantity of flour than usual was
served out. At first our pies had a very oily and fishy taste; but
Andrew showed us that this fishy flavour is confined to the fat, the
whole of which is under the skin, and chiefly near the thighs. By
carefully skinning the birds, they tasted like ordinary land-fowl; and
before the officers found out the secret, we had a capital pie every day
for dinner.

Our most constant companions were the Mollies; for which bird the North
Sea men have as great an affection and veneration as sailors round the
Cape of Good Hope have for Mother Carey's chickens or the superb
albatross: They have an idea that the spirits of the brave old Greenland
skippers, the successors of the fierce sea-kings, have, when quitting
their mortal frames, entered these fleet denizens of the air, still
desirous to wander over the scenes of their former exploits. They are
very strong and graceful on the wing and though they scarcely seem to
move their gracefully-rounded pinions, they can fly in the teeth almost
of the fiercest gale--now swooping into the dark troughs of the sea--now
skimming over the white foaming crests. They seldom, except during calm
and moderate weather, alight on the water, being ever constant on the
wing; and they will fly so close to the ship, that I have fancied I
could catch them with my hand.

One calm evening, as I was st