During the night it became apparent that a gale was brewing, and Hussey’s prediction seemed to be only too correct, for by Christmas morning the _Quest_ was heaving and pitching and behaving in such a lively manner that we saw that any attempt at festivity on this day would be futile. At breakfast-time it was almost impossible to keep anything on the table; cups, plates and crockery generally were thrown about, and the fiddles proved useless to keep them in position. We therefore put away Mrs. Rowett’s delicacies for a more favourable occasion. Green had a hard and trying time in his galley. The Boss told him not to bother about serving a decent lunch, but to serve out each man with a good thick bully-beef sandwich. This we ate in the shelter of the alleyways, well braced against the roll of the ship. It was a pleasant surprise when Green was able to produce some hot cocoa, which from its taste I suspected to have been made from engine-room water. It was, however, hot and wet and comforting to our chilled bodies. For our Christmas dinner we had a thick stew, which was not bad. Two bottles also materialized, one of rum and one of whisky. Each man was allowed a tot of whichever he preferred. Rum, being the stronger, was generally selected. The Boss gave us the toast of “Our good friends, John and Ellie Rowett,” which we drank enthusiastically. Afterwards the Boss asked each man where he had spent the last Christmas, and it was interesting to find how much scattered over the globe we had been. The Boss was in London, McIlroy and myself were in Central Africa, Worsley in Iceland, Macklin in Singapore, Jeffrey in New York, Kerr in Hamburg, Carr in Lithuania, McLeod in Mauritius, Naisbitt in Rio, and Young in Cape Town. Green was wandering somewhere round the East as steward of a tramp steamer, and of all of us only the Boss, Hussey and Marr, the Boy Scout, seemed to have spent theirs at home. During the day we were visited by numbers of sea birds which seemed to be in no way perturbed by the high winds: albatross, whale birds, Mother Carey’s chickens, Cape pigeons and a Cape hen. It was cheering to see them again, these old friends of ours, and to watch their flight as they sailed cleverly from the shelter of one wave to another, rarely meeting the full force of the gale. On the 26th the weather had abated somewhat, though a strong wind continued to blow from the west. The temperature dropped to 60° F., making the air quite chilly, and we were glad to don heavier clothing.