“July 23.—­Caught glimpse of Coulman Island through haze.  Position of ship south 14° east (true), eighty miles off Coulman Island.  Pressure continued intermittently throughout the day and night, with occasional very heavy squeezes to the ship which made timbers crack and groan.  The ship’s stern is now in a more or less soft bed, formed of recently frozen ice of about one foot in thickness.  I thank God that we have been spared through this fearful nightmare.  I shall never forget the concertina motions of the ship during yesterday’s and Wednesday’s fore and aft nips.

“July 24.—­Compared with previous days this is a quiet one.  The lanes have been opening and closing, and occasionally the ship gets a nasty squeeze against the solid floe on our starboard quarter.  The more lanes that open the better, as they form ‘springs’ (when covered with thin ice, which makes to a thickness of three or four inches in a few hours) between the solid and heavier floes and fields.  Surely we have been guided by the hands of Providence to have come in heavy grinding pack for over two hundred miles (geographical), skirting the ice-bound western shore, around and to the north of Franklin Island, and now into what appears a clear path to the open sea!  In view of our precarious position and the lives of men in jeopardy, I sent this evening an aerogram to H. M. King George asking for a relief ship.  I hope the wireless gets through.  I have sent this message after much consideration, and know that in the event of our non-arrival in New Zealand on the specified date (November 1) a relief ship will be sent to aid the Southern Party.

“July 25.—­Very heavy pressure about the ship.  During the early hours a large field on the port quarter came charging up, and on meeting our floe tossed up a ridge from ten to fifteen feet high.  The blocks of ice as they broke off crumbled and piled over each other to the accompaniment of a thunderous roar.  Throughout the day the pressure continued, the floes alternately opening and closing, and the ship creaking and groaning during the nips between floes.

“August 4.—­For nine days we have had southerly winds, and the last four we have experienced howling blizzards.  I am sick of the sound of the infernal wind.  Din!  Din!  Din! and darkness.  We should have seen the sun to-day, but a bank of cumulus effectually hid him, although the daylight is a never-ending joy.

“August 6.—­The wind moderated towards 6 a.m., and about breakfast time, with a clear atmosphere, the land from near Cape Cotter to Cape Adare was visible.  What a day of delights!  After four days of thick weather we find ourselves in sight of Cape Adare in a position about forty-five miles east of Possession Isles; in this time we have been set one hundred miles.  Good going.  Mount Sabine, the first land seen by us when coming south, lies away to the westward, forming the highest peak (10,000 ft.) of a majestic