the sun soon wore off, and they went about their
various avocations cheerfully by the light of the Aurora Borealis and
the stars.

The cabin, in which they now all lived together, had undergone
considerable alterations. After the return of Fred Ellice and the
hunting-party, whom we left on the ice-belt in the last chapter, the
bulk-head, or partition, which separated the cabin from the hold, had
been taken down, and the whole was thrown into one large apartment, in
order to secure a freer circulation of air and warmth. All round the
walls inside of this apartment moss was piled to the depth of twelve
inches to exclude the cold, and this object was further gained by the
spreading of a layer of moss on the deck above. The cabin hatchway was
closed, and the only entrance was at the farther end, through the hold,
by means of a small doorway in the bulkhead, to which was attached a
sort of porch, with a curtain of deer-skins hung in front of it. In the
centre of the floor stood an iron cooking-stove, which served at once
the purpose of preparing food and warming the cabin, which was lighted
by several small oil-lamps. These were kept burning perpetually, for
there was no distinction between day and night in midwinter, either in
the cabin or out-of-doors.

In this snug-looking place the officers and men of the ship messed, and
dwelt, and slept together; but, notwithstanding the _apparent_ snugness,
it was with the greatest difficulty they could keep themselves in a
sufficient degree of warmth to maintain health and comfort. Whenever
the fire was allowed to get low, the beams overhead became coated with
hoar-frost; and even when the temperature was raised to the utmost
possible pitch it was cold enough, at the extreme ends of the apartment,
to freeze a jug of water solid.

A large table occupied the upper end of the cabin, between the stove and
the stern, and round this the officers and crew were seated, when
O'Riley entered and took his place among them. Each individual had his
appointed place at the mess-table, and with unvarying regularity these
places were filled at the appointed hours.

"The dogs seem to be disobedient," remarked Amos Parr, as his comrade
sat down; "they'd be the better of a taste o' Meetuck's cat I think."

"It's truth ye're sayin'," replied O'Riley, commencing a violent assault
on a walrus steak; "they don't obey orders at all, at all. An' Dumps,
the blaggard, is as cross-grained as me gran