The darkness is not yet quite absolute. With some difficulty I can still see to read ordinary print at noon.
November 14th.
The wind has been blowing for nearly twenty-four hours from the northeast, and yet the temperature holds on as before. At 10 o'clock this evening it was 4½°. I have done with speculation. A warm wind from the mer de glace, and this boundless reservoir of Greenland frost, makes mischief with my theories, as facts have heretofore done with the theories of wiser men. As long as the wind came from the sea I could find some excuse for the unseasonable warmth.
THE TIDE-REGISTER.
I have rigged a new tide-register to-day, with the aid of McCormick, my man of all ingenious work. If it prove as effective as it is simple, I shall have a good registry of the Port Foulke tides. It is but a light rope, to one end of which is attached a heavy stone that rests firmly on the bottom of the sea. The rope comes up through the fire-hole, and passes over a pulley and down again into the water, having at this last end a ten-pound leaden weight. The pulley is attached to an oar which is supported upon two pillars made with blocks of ice. Two feet below the oar, and in close contact with the rope, there is an iron rod, and, the rope being divided into feet and tenths of a foot by little strings having "knots," the stage of the tide is read with the aid of a bull's-eye lantern, as the rod passes the strings. The only drawback is the difficulty in keeping the rope from "fouling" with the ice, as it will do if the fire-hole is not cleared at least four times an hour.
THE FIRE-HOLE.
The fire-hole needs no description further than the mere mention of its name. In the event of fire occurring in the schooner, this hole is our only reliance for water; and it is therefore carefully looked after. Thus far the watch has broken it out hourly.
November 15th.
The wind has packed the snow again, and, the temperature having crawled down to zero, the dampness has almost disappeared.
I have presented Hans with a new suit of clothes and a pair of my reddest flannel shirts, thinking by making him better off than Peter to quiet his jealousy. If I have not succeeded in this, I have at least tickled his vanity, for he is a natural-born dandy, and no person on board is so fond of getting himself up as this same savage hunter. At Sunday inspection no one more delights to appear in gorgeous array. With the other Esquimaux he does not deign to associate on terms of equality. To his finer clothes he doubtless attributes much of his personal importance;—but such things are not confined to Esquimaux.