my boat bow on to the floe, whilst Howe, with the painter in his hand, stood ready to jump.  Standing up to watch our chance, while the oars were held ready to back the moment Howe had made his leap, I could see that there would be no possibility of getting the galley ashore that night.  Howe just managed to get a footing on the edge of the floe, and then made the painter fast to a hummock.  The other two boats were fastened alongside the ‘James Caird’.  They could not lie astern of us in a line, since cakes of ice came drifting round the floe and gathering under its lee.  As it was we spent the next two hours poling off the drifting ice that surged towards us.  The blubber-stove could not be used, so we started the Primus lamps.  There was a rough, choppy sea, and the ‘Dudley Docker’ could not get her Primus under way, something being adrift.  The men in that boat had to wait until the cook on the ‘James Caird’ had boiled up the first pot of milk.

The boats were bumping so heavily that I had to slack away the painter of the ‘Stancomb Wills’ and put her astern.  Much ice was coming round the floe and had to be poled off.  Then the ‘Dudley Docker’, being the heavier boat, began to damage the ‘James Caird’, and I slacked the ‘Dudley Docker’ away.  The ‘James Caird’ remained moored to the ice, with the ‘Dudley Docker’ and the ‘Stancomb Wills’ in line behind her.  The darkness had become complete, and we strained our eye to see the fragments of ice that threatened us.  Presently we thought we saw a great berg bearing down upon us, its form outlined against the sky, but this startling spectacle resolved itself into a low-lying cloud in front of the rising moon.  The moon appeared in a clear sky.  The wind shifted to the south-east as the light improved and drove the boats broadside on towards the jagged edge of the floe.  We had to cut the painter of the ‘James Caird’ and pole her off, thus losing much valuable rope.  There was no time to cast off.  Then we pushed away from the floe, and all night long we lay in the open, freezing sea, the ‘Dudley Docker’ now ahead, the ‘James Caird’ astern of her, and the ‘Stancomb Wills’ third in the line.  The boats were attached to one another by their painters.  Most of the time the ‘Dudley Docker’ kept the ‘James Caird’ and the ‘Stancomb Wills’ up to the swell, and the men who were rowing were in better pass than those in the other boats, waiting inactive for the dawn.  The temperature was down to 4° below zero, and a film of ice formed on the surface of the sea.  When we were not on watch we lay in each other’s arms for warmth.  Our frozen suits thawed where our bodies met, and as the slightest movement exposed these comparatively warm spots to the biting air, we clung motionless, whispering each to his companion our hopes and thoughts.  Occasionally from an almost clear sky came snow-showers, falling silently on the sea and laying a thin shroud of white over our bodies and our boats.