moon was hidden its presence was revealed still by the light reflected on the streaming glaciers of the island.  The temperature had fallen very low, and it seemed that the general discomfort of our situation could scarcely have been increased; but the land looming ahead was a beacon of safety, and I think we were all buoyed up by the hope that the coming day would see the end of our immediate troubles.  At least we would get firm land under our feet.  While the painter of the ‘Stancomb Wills’ tightened and drooped under my hand, my thoughts were busy with plans for the future.

Towards midnight the wind shifted to the south-west, and this change enabled us to bear up closer to the island.  A little later the ’Dudley Docker’ ran down to the ‘James Caird’, and Worsley shouted a suggestion that he should go ahead and search for a landing-place.  His boat had the heels of the ‘James Caird’, with the ‘Stancomb Wills’ in tow.  I told him he could try, but he must not lose sight of the ‘James Caird’.  Just as he left me a heavy snow-squall came down, and in the darkness the boats parted.  I saw the ‘Dudley Docker’ no more.  This separation caused me some anxiety during the remaining hours of the night.  A cross-sea was running and I could not feel sure that all was well with the missing boat.  The waves could not be seen in the darkness, though the direction and force of the wind could be felt, and under such conditions, in an open boat, disaster might overtake the most experienced navigator.  I flashed our compass-lamp on the sail in the hope that the signal would be visible on board the ‘Dudley Docker’, but could see no reply.  We strained our eyes to windward in the darkness in the hope of catching a return signal and repeated our flashes at intervals.

My anxiety, as a matter of fact, was groundless.  I will quote Worsley’s own account of what happened to the ‘Dudley Docker’: 

“About midnight we lost sight of the ‘James Caird’ with the ’Stancomb Wills’ in tow, but not long after saw the light of the ‘James Caird’s’ compass-lamp, which Sir Ernest was flashing on their sail as a guide to us.  We answered by lighting our candle under the tent and letting the light shine through.  At the same time we got the direction of the wind and how we were hauling from my little pocket-compass, the boat’s compass being smashed.  With this candle our poor fellows lit their pipes, their only solace, as our raging thirst prevented us from eating anything.  By this time we had got into a bad tide-rip, which, combined with the heavy, lumpy sea, made it almost impossible to keep the ‘Dudley Docker’ from swamping.  As it was we shipped several bad seas over the stern as well as abeam and over the bows, although we were ’on a wind.’  Lees, who owned himself to be a rotten oarsman, made good here by strenuous baling, in which he was well seconded by Cheetham.  Greenstreet, a splendid fellow, relieved me at the tiller and helped generally.