There is little to break the monotony of the whaler's life while at work. Day after day the same routine is repeated, broken only by an occasional storm, or visits in leisure hours to neighboring vessels. But about the whaler there is always the glamor of the Arctic, which those who have once felt its spell say can never be forgotten--by day its marvellous mirages, weirdly reflecting distant ships, or the ice piled in huge, fantastic masses; at night the sombre glory of the aurora borealis, and always the cold, serene purity of ice and water and sky. When winter approaches, if one or more ships are to spend a second season in polar waters, quarters are built in some sheltered spot on land, and there, early in October, all the vessels rendezvous. On each ship the space between-decks is cleared, stoves set up, and bunks arranged along the middle, away from the sides, so that the cold will not so quickly reach the men through the vessel's timbers. When the ice forms around the ship, high banks of snow are piled about it to break the force of the piercing winds, and snow is also piled upon the roof built over the decks. This snow soon freezes and will not drift with the fiercest of gales. Thus prepared for, a winter in the Arctic has lost many of its former terrors. The whaler's homeward passage through Behring Sea is often more difficult and dangerous than the outward voyage. With sudden gales, treacherous currents, blinding snowstorms, and long, dark nights, each master must literally feel his way with the lead, getting such aid as he can from log and lookout. Every captain breathes a sigh of relief when he has passed the Straits and is once more in the Pacific, southward bound. There is plenty of work on the return passage. The crow's nest must be taken down and stowed away for another cruise; the masts scraped and varnished; the ship scoured and cleaned above and below; and finally, if it is a steam vessel, the sails unbent and stowed away. Just before entering port, the crew discard their skin clothing. A few hours later the voyage is at an end, and the men are tasting, perhaps for the first time in years, the delights and comforts of life on shore, and spending with open hand the money they have worked so long and so hard to earn.