beside her, we glanced at the fringe of the storm-swept, tumultuous sea that formed our path.  Clearly, our voyage would be a big adventure.  I called the carpenter and asked him if he could do anything to make the boat more seaworthy.  He first inquired if he was to go with me, and seemed quite pleased when I said “Yes.”  He was over fifty years of age and not altogether fit, but he had a good knowledge of sailing-boats and was very quick.  McCarthy said that he could contrive some sort of covering for the ‘James Caird’ if he might use the lids of the cases and the four sledge-runners that we had lashed inside the boat for use in the event of a landing on Graham Land at Wilhelmina Bay.  This bay, at one time the goal of our desire, had been left behind in the course of our drift, but we had retained the runners.  The carpenter proposed to complete the covering with some of our canvas; and he set about making his plans at once.

Noon had passed and the gale was more severe than ever.  We could not proceed with our preparations that day.  The tents were suffering in the wind and the sea was rising.  We made our way to the snow-slope at the shoreward end of the spit, with the intention of digging a hole in the snow large enough to provide shelter for the party.  I had an idea that Wild and his men might camp there during my absence, since it seemed impossible that the tents could hold together for many more days against the attacks of the wind; but an examination of the spot indicated that any hole we could dig probably would be filled quickly by the drift.  At dark, about 5 p.m., we all turned in, after a supper consisting of a pannikin of hot milk, one of our precious biscuits, and a cold penguin leg each.

The gale was stronger than ever on the following morning (April 20).  No work could be done.  Blizzard and snow, snow and blizzard, sudden lulls and fierce returns.  During the lulls we could see on the far horizon to the north-east bergs of all shapes and sizes driving along before the gale, and the sinister appearance of the swift-moving masses made us thankful indeed that, instead of battling with the storm amid the ice, we were required only to face the drift from the glaciers and the inland heights.  The gusts might throw us off our feet, but at least we fell on solid ground and not on the rocking floes.  Two seals came up on the beach that day, one of them within ten yards of my tent.  So urgent was our need of food and blubber that I called all hands and organized a line of beaters instead of simply walking up to the seal and hitting it on the nose.  We were prepared to fall upon this seal en masse if it attempted to escape.  The kill was made with a pick-handle, and in a few minutes five days’ food and six days’ fuel were stowed in a place of safety among the boulders above high-water mark.  During this day the cook, who had worked well on the floe and throughout the boat journey, suddenly collapsed.  I happened to be at the galley at