From Ploughshare to Pulpit by Gordon Stables

It was the dead of a dreary winter in the Straits of Magellan, about the beginning of July -- the seasons, as I need hardly tell my young readers, being quite the reverse of ours -- the dead of a dreary winter; and no one who has ever traversed this region of fogs and storms in a sailing ship at such a time will be likely to forget the feeling of gloom that often settles down on board, both fore and aft. The men try hard to fight against it. They smoke, they sing, they fiddle, they dance -- on every available excuse the captain may even splice the main-brace; but all pleasures are transient, and do not come directly from the heart.

This was the case now on board the good barque _Boo-boo-boo_. Willie and Sandie felt depressed; even Tyro the collie seemed in low spirits or out of sorts.