may be spent in annoying them with the lance before they decide to go. If the Seals carry their own skins down it saves much labour and time of the men. The boating is quite enough trouble to bear, as the harbour winds are treacherous and strong; so powerful are they, that I have observed half the body of a "waterfall" blown back many yards before it could leave the ledge where gravity was strongest. Should a gale prohibit the boats leaving the ship, the crew will sleep in during the day, and with the lull towards midnight leave for the scene of operations. Many a time they have had to row miles against a tempest to save being out all night, and many hours it has taken. Under such conditions boats have been swamped, the skins floated overboard, and a landing arranged for fresh efforts. I shall not be likely to forget one intensely cold night while going on board with my birds and cameras. The helmsman got a renewed attack of tropical fever, and, almost collapsing, I was given charge of the helm. For three hours mittens and oilskins seemed like miserable calico, and then I fully sympathised with the men who had their wellingtons partly filled with icy water.
Daily the boats wend their way in much the same manner, and in exactly the same way the skins are taken from the bodies. Roughly speaking, each skilful man can skin the smaller Seals—ten in two hours and a half, or fifteen minutes for each. This time is for animals which are not too large for a man to handle. The carcases in our takings were generally of large size. The following is a case of quick work:—After a one o'clock dinner (of plum-duff) the boats were rowed three miles. Seventy-two Seals were killed, and all but fourteen skinned. Twenty-three of the largest were taken on board, and the last was upon the windlass at 9.30 p.m. Two skins of fair size are enough for a small boat, or one of a large bull. The last trip in the above raid took two hours and a half in rowing three miles; this wasted time and much more was spent in endeavouring to get round a certain point. We agreed without a dissenting voice to call this headland Cape Horn of Royal Sound.
This uncharitable point is the type of many another. To leave a harbour for a second one is the event most trying to the constitution, for one never knows until the anchor is safely dropped where the howling wind will drive you. Altogether we
