At midnight the sleepers below heard the cry, "Haul, O!
haul, haul, haul!" and they staggered to their feet in the reeking den
of a cabin.
"Does it rain?"
"No, it snows."
That was the fragment of dialogue which passed pretty often. Then the
skipper inquired, "Do you want any cinder ashes?" The ashes were spread
on the treacherous deck; the bars were fixed in the capstan, and the
crew tramped on their chill round. Men often fell asleep at their dreary
work, and walked on mechanically; sometimes the struggle lasted for an
hour or two, until strong fellows were ready to lie down, and over the
straining gang the icy wind roared and the piercing drift flew in
vicious streams. When the big beam and the slimy net came to hand the
worst of the work began; it often happened that a man who ran against a
shipmate was obliged to say, "Who's that?" so dense was the darkness;
and yet amid that impenetrable gloom the intricate gear had to be
handled with certainty, and when the living avalanche of fish flowed
from the great bag, it was necessary to kill, clean, and sort them in
the dark.
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