The weather was still bad on the morning of April 19.  Some of the men were showing signs of demoralization.  They were disinclined to leave the tents when the hour came for turning out, and it was apparent they were thinking more of the discomforts of the moment than of the good fortune that had brought us to sound ground and comparative safety.  The condition of the gloves and headgear shown me by some discouraged men illustrated the proverbial carelessness of the sailor.  The articles had frozen stiff during the night, and the owners considered, it appeared, that this state of affairs provided them with a grievance, or at any rate gave them the right to grumble.  They said they wanted dry clothes and that their health would not admit of their doing any work.  Only by rather drastic methods were they induced to turn to.  Frozen gloves and helmets undoubtedly are very uncomfortable, and the proper thing is to keep these articles thawed by placing them inside one’s shirt during the night.

The southerly gale, bringing with it much snow, was so severe that as I went along the beach to kill a seal I was blown down by a gust.  The cooking-pots from No. 2 tent took a flying run into the sea at the same moment.  A case of provisions which had been placed on them to keep them safe had been capsized by a squall.  These pots, fortunately, were not essential, since nearly all our cooking was done over the blubber-stove.  The galley was set up by the rocks close to my tent, in a hole we had dug through the debris of the penguin rookery.  Cases of stores gave some shelter from the wind and a spread sail kept some of the snow off the cook when he was at work.  He had not much idle time.  The amount of seal and sea-elephant steak and blubber consumed by our hungry party was almost incredible.  He did not lack assistance—­the neighbourhood of the blubber-stove had attractions for every member of the party; but he earned everybody’s gratitude by his unflagging energy in preparing meals that to us at least were savoury and satisfying.  Frankly, we needed all the comfort that the hot food could give us.  The icy fingers of the gale searched every cranny of our beach and pushed relentlessly through our worn garments and tattered tents.  The snow, drifting from the glacier and falling from the skies, swathed us and our gear and set traps for our stumbling feet.  The rising sea beat against the rocks and shingle and tossed fragments of floe-ice within a few feet of our boats.  Once during the morning the sun shone through the racing clouds and we had a glimpse of blue sky; but the promise of fair weather was not redeemed.  The consoling feature of the situation was that our camp was safe.  We could endure the discomforts, and I felt that all hands would be benefited by the opportunity for rest and recuperation.

CHAPTER IX

THE BOAT JOURNEY