I had all sails set, and the ‘James Caird’ quickly dipped the beach and its line of dark figures.  The westerly wind took us rapidly to the line of pack, and as we entered it I stood up with my arm around the mast, directing the steering, so as to avoid the great lumps of ice that were flung about in the heave of the sea.  The pack thickened and we were forced to turn almost due east, running before the wind towards a gap I had seen in the morning from the high ground.  I could not see the gap now, but we had come out on its bearing and I was prepared to find that it had been influenced by the easterly drift.  At four o’clock in the afternoon we found the channel, much narrower than it had seemed in the morning but still navigable.  Dropping sail, we rowed through without touching the ice anywhere, and by 5.30 p.m. we were clear of the pack with open water before us.  We passed one more piece of ice in the darkness an hour later, but the pack lay behind, and with a fair wind swelling the sails we steered our little craft through the night, our hopes centred on our distant goal.  The swell was very heavy now, and when the time came for our first evening meal we found great difficulty in keeping the Primus lamp alight and preventing the hoosh splashing out of the pot.  Three men were needed to attend to the cooking, one man holding the lamp and two men guarding the aluminium cooking-pot, which had to be lifted clear of the Primus whenever the movement of the boat threatened to cause a disaster.  Then the lamp had to be protected from water, for sprays were coming over the bows and our flimsy decking was by no means water-tight.  All these operations were conducted in the confined space under the decking, where the men lay or knelt and adjusted themselves as best they could to the angles of our cases and ballast.  It was uncomfortable, but we found consolation in the reflection that without the decking we could not have used the cooker at all.

The tale of the next sixteen days is one of supreme strife amid heaving waters.  The sub-Antarctic Ocean lived up to its evil winter reputation.  I decided to run north for at least two days while the wind held and so get into warmer weather before turning to the east and laying a course for South Georgia.  We took two-hourly spells at the tiller.  The men who were not on watch crawled into the sodden sleeping-bags and tried to forget their troubles for a period; but there was no comfort in the boat.  The bags and cases seemed to be alive in the unfailing knack of presenting their most uncomfortable angles to our rest-seeking bodies.  A man might imagine for a moment that he had found a position of ease, but always discovered quickly that some unyielding point was impinging on muscle or bone.  The first night aboard the boat was one of acute discomfort for us all, and we were heartily glad when the dawn came and we could set about the preparation of a hot breakfast.