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decking and bulwarks - and the dark
night is just commencing. I've burnt all
your light fancy work shelves and lockers
and bulkheads- and we are only at
-40°. Sixty is ahead of us. We only
freeze mercury now. We have yet to
freeze chloroform.

As I went on churning my brains
I rudely coagulated that which may come
to butter. It is nothing but some milk
now. I 'am going to attempt a set of
[convoluted] smoke tubes of tin which are to
open horizontally, Franklin Peale fashion
into the Old Stove pipe. Here I collect
and retain our heat and after tormenting
it into a state of coolness part
company with it by a scape valve (over) through the
(Booby)Hatch (main Hatch). This great
work will require all the tin pans
coffee pots and iron hoops, all the
skill, labour, copper nails, and confidence
which remain by the Brig Advance.
We start tomorrow.

Examined and rebuilt traps no Success.
The [Forces?] are very scarce.

My people are getting nervous and
depressed, poor James McGearyMcGeary in a Sunday
fit of home sickness walked the deck
all day without supper or dinner. I
do my best to cheer them, but it is
a hard case to have to hide ones own
- perhaps greater - trials by way of giving
comfort to those who can neither understand
nor appreciate it. I am by
association, intercourse, and position
utterly cut off from fellowship with
my [fellows] comrades, yet going through all
the externals of congeniality.

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