e
table, and a great fire of coal glowed in the stove. Both of these
together did not make the place too warm, but there were fur-coats and
trousers and boots to help defy the cold. The men were few in number
and not likely to see many friends on that Christmas-day. All the more
reason why they should make the most of each other! Besides, they were
wrong in their last idea about friends, for it chanced, on that very
day, that Myouk the Eskimo paid them a visit--quite ignorant of its
being Christmas, of course. Meetek was with him, and so was Oomia, and
so was the baby--that remarkably fat, oily, naked baby, that seemed
rather to enjoy the cold than otherwise!

They had a plum-pudding that day. Butts said it was almost as big as
the head of a walrus. They had also a roast of beef--walrus-beef, of
course--and first-rate it was. But before dinner the captain made them
go through their usual morning work of cleaning, airing, making beds,
posting journals, noting temperatures, opening the fire-hole, and
redding up. For the captain was a great believer in the value of
discipline. He knew that no man enjoys himself so much as he who has
got through his work early--who has done his duty. It did not take them
long, and when it was done the captain said, "Now, boys, we must be
jolly to-day. As we can't get out we must take some exercise indoors.
We shall need extra appetite to make away with that plum-pudding."

So, at it they went! Every sort of game or feat of strength known to
sailors was played, or attempted. It was in the middle of all this that
Myouk and his family arrived, so they were compelled to join. Even the
fat baby was put into a blanket and swung round the cabin by Jim Croft,
to the horror of its mother, who seemed to think it would be killed, and
to the delight of its father, who didn't seem to care whether it was
killed or not.

Then came the dinner. What a scene that was, to be sure! It would take
a whole book to describe all that was said and done that day. The
Eskimos ate till they could hardly stand--that was their usual custom.
Then they lay down and went to sleep--that was their usual custom, too.
The rest ate as heartily, poor fellows, as was possible for men not yet
quite recovered from scurvy. They had no wine, but they had excellent
coffee, and with this they drank to absent friends, sweethearts, and
wives, and many other toasts, the mere mention of which raised such
strong home-fe