The conditions in the boat, uncomfortable before, had been made worse by the deluge of water.  All our gear was thoroughly wet again.  Our cooking-stove had been floating about in the bottom of the boat, and portions of our last hoosh seemed to have permeated everything.  Not until 3 a.m., when we were all chilled almost to the limit of endurance, did we manage to get the stove alight and make ourselves hot drinks.  The carpenter was suffering particularly, but he showed grit and spirit.  Vincent had for the past week ceased to be an active member of the crew, and I could not easily account for his collapse.  Physically he was one of the strongest men in the boat.  He was a young man, he had served on North Sea trawlers, and he should have been able to bear hardships better than McCarthy, who, not so strong, was always happy.

The weather was better on the following day (May 6), and we got a glimpse of the sun.  Worsley’s observation showed that we were not more than a hundred miles from the north-west corner of South Georgia.  Two more days with a favourable wind and we would sight the promised land.  I hoped that there would be no delay, for our supply of water was running very low.  The hot drink at night was essential, but I decided that the daily allowance of water must be cut down to half a pint per man.  The lumps of ice we had taken aboard had gone long ago.  We were dependent upon the water we had brought from Elephant Island, and our thirst was increased by the fact that we were now using the brackish water in the breaker that had been slightly stove in in the surf when the boat was being loaded.  Some sea-water had entered at that time.  Thirst took possession of us.  I dared not permit the allowance of water to be increased since an unfavourable wind might drive us away from the island and lengthen our voyage by many days.  Lack of water is always the most severe privation that men can be condemned to endure, and we found, as during our earlier boat voyage, that the salt water in our clothing and the salt spray that lashed our faces made our thirst grow quickly to a burning pain.  I had to be very firm in refusing to allow any one to anticipate the morrow’s allowance, which I was sometimes begged to do.  We did the necessary work dully and hoped for the land.  I had altered the course to the east so as to make sure of our striking the island, which would have been impossible to regain if we had run past the northern end.  The course was laid on our scrap of chart for a point some thirty miles down the coast.  That day and the following day passed for us in a sort of nightmare.  Our mouths were dry and our tongues were swollen.  The wind was still strong and the heavy sea forced us to navigate carefully, but any thought of our peril from the waves was buried beneath the consciousness of our raging thirst.  The bright moments were those when we each received our one mug of hot milk during the long, bitter watches of the night.  Things were bad