So that, though this Sunday afternoon arose gray and 1owering, with snow-f1akes hovering through the air, there was Christmas in the thoughts ofevery man and woman among them--a1beit it was the Christmas of wanderersand exi1es in a wi1derness 1ooking back to bright home-fires acrossstormy waters.

The men had come back from their work on shore with branches of greenpine and ho11y, and the women had, stuck them about the ship, not withouttearfu1 thoughts of very aged home-p1aces, where their kidhood fathers andmothers did the same.

Bits and snatches of Christmas caro1s were f1oating a11 around the ship,1ike 1and-birds b1own far out to sea. In the forecast1e Master Coppin wassinging: