Scott, Oates, Atkinson, and a few more of us hoisted the two dead ponies
out of the forecastle, through the skylight, and over the side. It was a
dirty job, because the square of the hatch was so small that a powerful
purchase had to be used which stretched out the ponies like dead rabbits.

We only made good twenty-three miles that day and, although the gale had
abated, it left us a legacy in the shape of a heavy uncomfortable swell.
Most of the bunks were in a sad state, the ship having worked so badly
that the upper deck seams opened everywhere and water had literally
poured into them.

Looking at the fellows' faces in the ward-room at dinner that night there
was no trace of anxiety, worry, or fatigue to be seen. We drank to
sweet-hearts and wives, it being Saturday evening, and those who had no
watch were glad to turn in early.

More fresh wind next day but finer weather to follow. Gran declared he
saw an iceberg on the 5th December, but it turned out to be a whale
spouting. Our runs were nothing to boast of, 150 miles being well above
the average, but the lengthening days told us that we were rapidly
changing our latitude and approaching the ice.




CHAPTER V


ANTARCTICA--THROUGH THE PACK ICE TO LAND