things were done by volunteer labour.  It was recognized that every one whose work allowed turned to immediately on any job which was wanted, but it was an absolutely voluntary duty—­Volunteers to shorten sail?  To coal?  To shift cargo?  To pump?  To paint or wash down paintwork?  They were constant calls—­some of them almost hourly calls, day and night—­and there was never any failure to respond fully.  This applied not only to the scientific staff but also, whenever their regular duties allowed, to the executive officers.  There wasn’t an officer on the ship who did not shift coal till he was sick of the sight of it, but I heard no complaints.  Such a system soon singles out the real willing workers, but it is apt to put an undue strain upon them.  Meanwhile most of the executive officers as well as the scientific staff had their own work to do, which they were left to fit in as most convenient.

The first days out from England were spent in such hard and crowded work that we shook down very quickly.  I then noticed for the first time Wilson’s great gift of tact, and how quick he was to see the small things which make so much difference.  At the same time his passion for work set a high standard.  Pennell was another glutton.

We dropped anchor in Funchal Harbour, Madeira, about 4 P.M. on June 23, eight days out.  The ship had already been running under sail and steam, the decks were as clear as possible, there was some paintwork to show, and with a good harbour stow she looked thoroughly workmanlike and neat.  Some scientific work, in particular tow netting and magnetic observations, had already been done.  But even as early as this we had spent hours on the pumps, and it was evident that these pumps were going to be a constant nightmare.

In Madeira, as everywhere, we were given freely of such things as we required.  We left in the early morning of June 26, after Pennell had done some hours’ magnetic work with the Lloyd Creak and Barrow Dip Circle.

On June 29 (noon position lat. 27 deg. 10’ N., long. 20 deg. 21’ W.) it was possible to write:  “A fortnight out to-day, and from the general appearance of the wardroom we might have been out a year.”

We were to a great extent strangers to one another when we left England, but officers and crew settled down to their jobs quickly, and when men live as close as we did they settle down or quarrel before very long.  Let us walk into the cabins which surround the small wardroom aft.  The first on the left is that of Scott and Lieutenant Evans, but Scott is not on board, and Wilson has taken his place.  In the next cabin to them is Drake, the secretary.  On the starboard side of the screw are Oates, Atkinson and Levick, the two latter being doctors, and on the port side Campbell and Pennell, who is navigator.  Then Rennick and Bowers, the latter just home from the Persian Gulf—­both of these are watchkeepers.  In the next cabin are Simpson, meteorologist, back from Simla, with Nelson and Lillie, marine biologists.  In the last cabin, the Nursery, are the youngest, and necessarily the best behaved, of this community, Wright, the physicist and chemist, Gran the Norwegian ski-expert, and myself, Wilson’s helper and assistant zoologist.  It is difficult to put a man down as performing any special job where each did so many, but that is roughly what we were.