t on groping his
way about was the cold noses of the dogs pushed against his hands, as
they frisked and gambolled round him. They howled at the appearance of
an accidental light, as if they hoped the sun, or at least the moon,
were going to rise once more, and they rejoiced on being taken below,
and leaped up in the men's faces for sympathy, and whined, and all but
spoke, with excess of satisfaction.

The effect of the monotony of long-continued darkness, and the absence
of novelty, had much to do also with the indifferent health of many of
the men. After the two expeditions were sent out, those who remained
behind became much more low-spirited, and the symptoms of scurvy
increased. In these circumstances Captain Guy taxed his inventive
genius to the utmost to keep up their spirits and engage their minds.
He assumed an air of bustling activity, and attached a degree of
importance to the regular performance of the light duties of the ship
that they did not in reality possess, apart from their influence as
discipline. The cabin was swept and aired, the stove cleaned, the
fittings dusted, the beds made, the tides, thermometers, and barometers
registered; the logs posted up, clothes mended, food cooked, traps
visited, etcetera, with the regularity of clockwork, and every possible
plan adopted to occupy every waking hour, and to prevent the men from
brooding over their position. When the labours of the day were over,
plans were proposed for getting up a concert, or a new play, in order to
surprise the absentees on their return. Stories were told over and over
again, and enjoyed if good, or valued far beyond their worth if bad.
When old stories failed, and old books were read, new stories were
invented, and here the genius of some was drawn out, while the varied
information of others became of great importance. Tom Singleton, in
particular, entertained the men with songs and lively tunes on the
flute, and told stories, as one of them remarked, "like a book". Joseph
West, too, was an invaluable comrade in this respect. He had been a
studious boy at school, and a lover of books of all kinds, especially
books of travel and adventure. His memory was good, and his inventive
powers excellent, so that he recalled wonderful and endless anecdotes
from the unfathomable stores of his memory, strung them together into a
sort of story, and told them in a soft, pleasant voice that captivated
the ears of his audience; but poor Wes