larger pieces will appear, and shortly afterwards
dreary floes will heave in sight to the north-
ward.

The sealer now coasts along these fields of
ice. observing the nature of the ice, and whether
it is suitable for his purpose, and occasionally
consulting with the captains of the other ships
regarding their chances of a good cargo. Now
and then he will push in among the broken-up
floes to test the nature of the ice, or whether any
seals are in that direction, and if unsuccessful
will push out again, and continue coasting
round what he calls the "cant" of the ice. All
this time the men are busily getting up the
tools. These consist of sealing clubs—a sharp
spike at the end of a handle three feet long—long
sharp knives for skinning the seals, seal guns
suitable for throwing ball, &c. The nights are
long and dark at this season of the year, for the
bright continual daylight of the Arctic regions
has not yet begun to prevail, and snow and
sleet are of hourly occurrence. Altogether it is
cheerless work when there are no seals. Everybody
is muffled from head to foot in the warmest
clothing, and a fur cap which only leaves the
tip of the nose, the eyes, and the mouth
exposed. Hoar frost, and sometimes a miniature
crop of icicles hang from the shaggy moustaches
of the men as they trot backward and forward
on the snow-covered deck to keep their
feet warm, or hang dreamily over the side
discussing the chances of a long purse versus a
short one. For every man on board, from the
captain and the surgeon to the cabin boy, is
directly interested in the result of the voyage.

"Things look roughish," the old skipper
remarks. " For twenty years I haven't seen such
a nasty look-out." So he coasts along until he
sees an opening wide and clear between the
floes, and pushes in. Coming from the open
friendless sea, it looks quite homelike among
the great floes. The "leads" of open water
look like streams meandering through a snow-
covered country. A lazy seal, with its young
at its side, staring up with great glassy eyes,
also takes away from the appearance of utter
desolation; and now and then a few seals,
attracted by the whistling of the seamen,
peep up above the oozy sea to see what is
the matter. Darkness is settling down, but
the old skipper still pushes on, trusting to the
ironshod bows, and doubling and trebling of
his ship. At last he finds the ice beginning
to form around the vessel, so he anchors on to
a floe and waits for morning. Before daylight
is well on, the captain is shaken in his bunk by
one of the watch to tell him that they think seals
are not far off, for though the night is so dark
that it is impossible to see ten yards ahead, yet
they can hear the cries of seal pups. Morning
shows, to the delight of these hardy hunters
after pinnipeds, that in the darkness they have
run in among a huge herd of seals quietly
enjoying the dolce far niente of Arctic life. Not
an hour is to be lost, for the ice may shift or a
storm arise, and the fortune at their ship's side
may be snatched out from before their eyes.
From the "crow's nest" a sight may be seen
almost impossible to be described. Far as the
eye can reach the spotless purity of the snow is
speckled by huge flocks of seals reposing beside
their escape holes which communicate with, the
sea beneath, and at their side are their helpless
young. Long lines of hunters are leaving the
ship, some armed with rifles, others with the
sealing clubs, and other vessels having scented
the plunder from afar are hurriedly making
fast to the floe, or despatching parties over to
the scene. Crack! crack! Every minute the
noise rings through the clear Arctic air, telling
that an old seal making for the water has been
arrested in its career. These are generally the
males, for the females will rarely desert their
young until the last extremity, and will not
unfrequently remain, and in attempting to
defend their hapless offspring meet the same
fate. As for the young which are unable to
escape, a kick of the heavy sea boot or a blow
of the sharp-spiked club settles their fate. No
sooner is one killed than it is flayed: an operation
which does not occupy more than two
minutes, if so much. A rapid turn of the sharp
sheath knife round the neck, another round
each flipper, and a last one down the belly
completes the operation; a few touches of the
knife serving to take off the "jacket" or skin,
to which is attached a layer of three inches
or more of blubber, a white fatty substance
streaked red with the blood-vessels. A man
has rarely to stir over a few feet before he
stuns or brains another, and so on he goes until
he has collected quite a trophy around him.
He now fastens the rope or "rueraddy" with
which he is provided, to the skins and blubber,
and drags them over the ice to a place where
the boats are receiving them and carrying them
to the ship. The man returns to his murderous
work until he has completed a sufficient number
to be again attached to his "rueraddy" and
dragged to the boats. On board the ship they
are dropped into the hold, a tally being kept of
the quantity obtained, for entry in the log-book.
Every seal which is dropped into the hold of
the ship is something in the pocket of everybody,
so that hard as is the work, and cruel
the sport, the men go into it with a gusto, all
the more vigorous that it is a break in the
monotony of a sea voyage. The captain, from
the crow's nest on the main royal-mast-head,
is not forgetful of his faithful lieges, as is
substantially shown by the " tots" of rum, which
are now and then served out by the steward
on the ice. All day long this work goes on, until,
towards evening, a change is seen to have come
over the morning purity of the snow. Everywhere
the floe is scattered with the bleeding
carcases of seals, and the snow is dyed scarlet
in the lines of the slaughtering parties. On
the morrow the sealer renews his search, and,
if successful, he may fill his vessel in a few
days. The business is not, however, without
its perils. Sometimes a sudden gale arises, and
before the boats can get the men collected
together, the floe will break up, and while the
ship is driven out to sea, the unfortunate seamen
will be left drifting about, exposed to the