A Sunbath on Deck.
June 19. Bering Sea, latitude 63 degrees, longitude 172 degrees, 38 minutes.—For the past few days we made good time, one hundred miles to the day, but on this date we are becalmed. Clyde has gone out in the boat to catch a snap shot of us. He need not hurry, for never was mouse more still than the "Penelope" at this moment. The thermometer registers 38 degrees on deck. We have sighted no ice yet, and hope the Bering Straits are open.
I am sitting in the galley, as my fingers get too cold to write outside. We have just cleared off supper, and the boys are pacing the deck for exercise. Some of them are below, where an oil stove in each cabin takes the chill and dampness from the air. It is seldom that the galley is not crammed full, but just now the cook and the others have gone below for a game of whist, so I embrace the opportunity to write. My diary is always written after I have finished my daily bird notes, which I make as copious as possible. I have some good records already. We were becalmed three days in sight of the Prybiloff Islands, and at the time were so close to St. Paul Island that we could hear the barking of thousands of seals, and, by the aid of a field glass, could see them on the beaches. A few were seen about the "Penelope," and one came so near to the boat that it was touched with an oar. We unlashed the smallest boat and rowed out with her during the calmest days, so we had some much-needed exercise. Frequent fogs kept us near the "Penelope's" side, as we should easily become lost. We saw no ducks or geese, but we had murres in plenty and pot-pie for several days. For a change they were served up in roasts, being first boiled, and were finer than any duck I have tasted, though some of the squeamish crew composing the "Crips' Union" declared they were "fishy."
Of course I improve every opportunity during pleasant days to collect, and the result is thirteen first-class bird skins. These sea birds are almost all fat and the grease clings to and grows into the skin so firmly that it is almost impossible to put them up. Among the good things which I have secured are the crested auklet, red phalarope, pallas, murre and horned puffin, but it will be difficult to preserve the skins in this damp climate. Dr. Coffin is becoming interested already, and talks of putting in his spare time collecting with me. He has been taking lessons in skinning, and so far has put up two specimens. We have rigged up a cracker-box for our bird-skins and try to keep it in the dryest place, though it is so crowded on shipboard that a convenient place for any particular thing is scarce.
Speaking the "Sintram."
The currents in Bering Sea are quite strong, tending northward toward the straits, so that even when the wind fails us we are drifting towards our destination at the rate of fifteen to twenty miles a day. On board we are all happy and in good spirits, notwithstanding the fact that some have never before known a hardship, and their eight hours watch per day on deck, especially when it is stormy, is calculated to make them think longingly of their pleasant homes. Besides, many of the boys have salt water sores on their hands and chilblains on their feet.
Yesterday the sea was choppy and several were sea-sick again. Even I felt that peculiar indescribable sensation, but I ate a hearty dinner of beans and salt pork and felt better. C. C. is suffering from what he declares is "indigestion" a weakness to which he has always been subject. He feels a reluctance to owning that he has the common ailment. "C. C." is our abbreviation for Reynolds, the undertaker and sometime preacher. He makes so much fun for other people that we cannot help amusing ourselves at his expense sometimes.
We passed St. Matthew Island and caught a glimpse of its rugged shores through the thick fog. We can generally tell the proximity of land by the increased number of sea-birds. It is not often that the sun appears now, but occasionally it shows itself long enough for the captain to take his observations. It is light all night and seems like a dream of childhood to have to go to bed before the lamps are lighted.
I must pay a compliment to our captain. Besides knowing his business thoroughly, he Is a jolly, agreeable man, always cutting jokes except during a storm. He has been created the "Penelope's" laureate, and has written a couple of poems that would make good his rank anywhere.