again absolutely tight.  It could hardly be called real ice, however, but was rather a snow-sludge, about two feet thick, and as tough as dough; it looked as if it had all just been broken off a single thick mass.  The floes lay close together, and we could see how one floe fitted into the other.  The ice remained more or less close until we were right down in lat. 73deg.S. and long. 179deg.  W.; the last part of it was old drift-ice.

From here to the Bay of Whales we saw a few scattered streams of floes and some icebergs.

A few seals were shot in the ice, so that we had fresh meat enough, and could save the sheep and pigs until the shore party came on board.  I was sure they would appreciate fresh roast pork.

The chart of Ross Sea has been drawn chiefly as a guide to future expeditions.  It may be taken as certain that the best place to go through the ice is between long. 176deg.  E. and 180deg., and that the best time is about the beginning of February.

Take, for instance, our southward route in 1911 —­ 1912:  as has been said, the ice was met with as early as in 65deg.  S., and we were not clear of it till about 73deg.  S.; between 68deg.  S. and 69deg.  S. the line is interrupted, and it was there that I ought to have steered to the south.

Now follow the course from the Bay of Whales in 1912.  Only in about 75deg.  S. was ice seen (almost as in 1911), and we followed it.  After that time we saw absolutely no more ice, as the chart shows; therefore in the course of about a month and a half all the ice that we met when going south had drifted out.

The stippled line shows how I assume the ice to have lain; the heavy broken line shows what our course ought to have been.

The midnight sun was not seen till the night of January 7, 1912, to the south of lat. 77deg.  S.; it was already 9.5deg. above the horizon.

On the night of January 8 we arrived off the Barrier in extremely bitter weather.  South-westerly and southerly winds had held for a few days, with fair weather; but that night there was thick snow, and the wind gradually fell calm, after which a fresh breeze sprang up from the south-east, with biting snow, and at the same time a lot of drift-ice.  The engine went very slowly, and the ship kept head to wind.  About midnight the weather cleared a little, and a dark line, which proved to be the Barrier, came in sight.  The engine went ahead at full speed, and the sails were set, so that we might get under the lee of the perpendicular wall.  By degrees the ice-blink above the Barrier became lighter and lighter, and before very long we were so close under it that we only just had room to go about.  The Barrier here runs east and west, and with a south-easterly wind we went along it to the east.  The watch that had gone below at eight o’clock, when we were still in open sea, came up again at two to find us close to the long-desired wall of ice.

Some hours passed in the same way, but then, of course, the wind became easterly —­ dead ahead —­ so that we had tack after tack till 6 p.m. the same day, when we were at the western point of the Bay of Whales.