Not the faintest vestige of twilight appeared even at noon.

Midnight and noonday were alike.

Except when the stars and aurora were bright, there was not light enough to distinguish a man's form at ten paces distant, and a blacker mass than the surrounding darkness alone indicated where the high cliffs encompassed the Bay of Mercy.

When therefore any one came on deck, the first thing he felt on groping his way about was the cold noses of the dogs pushed against his hands, as they frisked and gambolled round him.

They howled at the appearance of an accidental light, as if they hoped the sun, or at least the moon, were going to rise once more, and they rejoiced on being taken below, and leaped up in the men's faces for sympathy, and whined, and all but spoke with excess of satisfaction.
The effect of the monotony of long-continued darkness and the absence of novelty had much to do also with the indifferent health of many of the men.