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 grandmother’s owld pig—”
A general laugh here interrupted the speaker, for O’Riley could seldom institute a disparaging comparison without making emphatic allusion to the pig that once shared with him the hospitalities of his grandmother’s cabin.
“Why, everything you speak of seems to be like that wonderful pig, messmate,” said Peter Grim.
“Ye’re wrong there intirely,” retorted O’Riley. “I niver seed nothing like it in all me thravels except yerself, and that only in regard to its muzzle, which was black and all kivered over with bristles, it wos. I’ll throuble for another steak, messmate; that walrus is great livin’. We owe ye thanks for killin’ it, Mister Ellice.”
“You’re fishing for compliments, but I’m afraid I have none to give you. Your first harpoon, you know, was a little wide of the mark, if I recollect right, wasn’t it?”
“Yis, it wos—about as wide as the first bullet. I misremember exactly who fired it; wos it you, Meetuck?”