July 22, my cabin

July 22—Blowing hard for two days, a circumstance which I did not relish since it brought many large bergs down upon us. Reid, however, put us at ease. I was not overly taken initially with his rough manner, and his misplacing us at the Whalefish Islands so soon after our first encounter with the ice inspired little confidence in his purported knowledge of the ice. Yet, gradually, I am coming to see some of his benefits. Not least is the amusement his broadly-accented comments bring.

Reid is a Greenland whaler from Aberdeen and amuses us constantly with tales and quaint remarks about ice and catching whales. He is a most original character—rough, intelligent, good humoured and honest hearted, unpolished but not vulgar. When I asked him of his experience of bergs and whether we might not get into difficulties should a gale blow up, he answered, “Ah! now, Mister Jems, we’ll not be worrying about the bergs. We’ll be having the weather fine, sir! fine! No ice at arl about it, sir, unless it be the bergs—arl the ice’ll be gone, sir, only the bergs, which I like to see. Let it come on to blow, look out for a big ’un. Get under his lee, and hold on to him fast, sir, fast. He’ll not tipple over and, if he drifts near the land, why, he grounds afore you do.” 

This I interpreted to mean that there was little danger in our undertaking yet it is hard not to be in awe as these huge blocks of ice and snow are borne down upon us. 

I had intended to write last night but having sat down at my desk, I suddenly found myself in bed and falling asleep. Picture me if you will in my cabin struggling to add a few words to entertain you. My cabin measures some six by seven and seems quite commodious, though not as large as it looked in the Illustrated News. My bunk occupies one wall and is joined to the opposite wall at the head by my desk. I have a bookshelf and a chair and below the bunk are large drawers for all my things. Your picture hangs above the desk and has excited some comment from those of my companions who are uncertain as to whether it is quite proper for a bachelor such as I to carry a solitary picture of his cousin’s wife! I do not take the trouble to explain the special bond which unites us for those who know me understand and those who do not will either come to know me through this adventure or not regardless of whatever explanations I might proffer. In any case, I trust that you look upon my presumption with approval. 

My cabin is one of ten around our mess which is an open, well lighted place of red wood and painted birds-eye maple, with comfortable room for ten although there are rarely that many for those on watch. Sir John’s cabin is large but he ends with little more space than the rest of us. Much room has been given over to Goodsir and his classification activities, and to Stanley who is quite expert at skinning and preserving birds of all sorts. In all the whole has something more of the aspect—and smell—of a scientific laboratory than the cabin of a ship at sea. This troubles Sir John not a bit. He is convinced of the great import of our scientific endeavour and greatly encourages Goodsir in his work. In fact he said that, important as our discovery of the Northwest Passage will be, it is our scientific work which will live on after us.