The case required to be argued in some detail, since all hands knew that the perils of the proposed journey were extreme.  The risk was justified solely by our urgent need of assistance.  The ocean south of Cape Horn in the middle of May is known to be the most tempestuous storm-swept area of water in the world.  The weather then is unsettled, the skies are dull and overcast, and the gales are almost unceasing.  We had to face these conditions in a small and weather-beaten boat, already strained by the work of the months that had passed.  Worsley and Wild realized that the attempt must be made, and they both asked to be allowed to accompany me on the voyage.  I told Wild at once that he would have to stay behind.  I relied upon him to hold the party together while I was away and to make the best of his way to Deception Island with the men in the spring in the event of our failure to bring help.  Worsley I would take with me, for I had a very high opinion of his accuracy and quickness as a navigator, and especially in the snapping and working out of positions in difficult circumstances—­an opinion that was only enhanced during the actual journey.  Four other men would be required, and I decided to call for volunteers, although, as a matter of fact, I pretty well knew which of the people I would select.  Crean I proposed to leave on the island as a right-hand man for Wild, but he begged so hard to be allowed to come in the boat that, after consultation with Wild, I promised to take him.  I called the men together, explained my plan, and asked for volunteers.  Many came forward at once.  Some were not fit enough for the work that would have to be done, and others would not have been much use in the boat since they were not seasoned sailors, though the experiences of recent months entitled them to some consideration as seafaring men.  McIlroy and Macklin were both anxious to go but realized that their duty lay on the island with the sick men.  They suggested that I should take Blackborrow in order that he might have shelter and warmth as quickly as possible, but I had to veto this idea.  It would be hard enough for fit men to live in the boat.  Indeed, I did not see how a sick man, lying helpless in the bottom of the boat, could possibly survive in the heavy weather we were sure to encounter.  I finally selected McNeish, McCarthy, and Vincent in addition to Worsley and Crean.  The crew seemed a strong one, and as I looked at the men I felt confidence increasing.

The decision made, I walked through the blizzard with Worsley and Wild to examine the ‘James Caird’.  The 20-ft. boat had never looked big; she appeared to have shrunk in some mysterious way when I viewed her in the light of our new undertaking.  She was an ordinary ship’s whaler, fairly strong, but showing signs of the strains she had endured since the crushing of the ‘Endurance’.  Where she was holed in leaving the pack was, fortunately, about the water-line and easily patched.  Standing