AURORA AUSTRALIS.
Having turned out and donned a fair supply of clothes, I reported myself to my chief, and was told in very concise terms to go to a warmer clime; it afterwards turned out that he expected me to do my duty as messman first, and I laid the table for breakfast.
A meal in the Antarctic is a very diflerent affair from one at home, and a description will come better from the messman than from anyone else, for as the saying is, “The onlooker sees most of the game,” and as far as my experience goes, the messman at a meal is very much in the position of a spectator.
At a quarter to nine he gives the order, “Boats crew,” and four men proceed to unsling and let down the table, which between meals is kept slung above our heads, occupying much the same position in our imaginations as the sword did in that of Damocles. I have not liked to walk underneath it since the supports gave way, and landed the majority of the tin-ware on the heads of one or two members of the party.
The table in itself is a curiosity; it is built rather ingeniously of the lids of cases, and in one place a legend informs the diner that the table contains a theodolite, some ranging poles and other surveying apparatus, while another legend remarks that it is only “To be opened on Christmas Day,” etc..
