and we must wait patiently till a southerly gale occurs or currents open the ice.  We are drifting slowly.  The position to-day was 76° 49´ S., 33° 51´ W. Worsley and James, working on the floe with a Kew magnetometer, found the variation to be six degrees west.”  Just before midnight a crack developed in the ice five yards wide and a mile long, fifty yards ahead of the ship.  The crack had widened to a quarter of a mile by 10 a.m. on the 25th, and for three hours we tried to force the ship into this opening with engines at full speed ahead and all sails set.  The sole effect was to wash some ice away astern and clear the rudder, and after convincing myself that the ship was firmly held I abandoned the attempt.  Later in the day Crean and two other men were over the side on a stage chipping at a large piece of ice that had got under the ship and appeared to be impeding her movement.  The ice broke away suddenly, shot upward and overturned, pinning Crean between the stage and the haft of the heavy 11-ft. iron pincher.  He was in danger for a few moments, but we got him clear, suffering merely from a few bad bruises.  The thick iron bar had been bent against him to an angle of 45 degrees.

The days that followed were uneventful.  Moderate breezes from the east and south-west had no apparent effect upon the ice, and the ship remained firmly held.  On the 27th, the tenth day of inactivity, I decided to let the fires out.  We had been burning half a ton of coal a day to keep steam in the boilers, and as the bunkers now contained only 67 tons, representing thirty-three days’ steaming, we could not afford to continue this expenditure of fuel.  Land still showed to the east and south when the horizon was clear.  The biologist was securing some interesting specimens with the hand-dredge at various depths.  A sounding on the 26th gave 360 fathoms, and another on the 29th 449 fathoms.  The drift was to the west, and an observation on the 31st (Sunday) showed that the ship had made eight miles during the week.  James and Hudson rigged the wireless in the hope of hearing the monthly message from the Falkland Islands.  This message would be due about 3.20 a.m. on the following morning, but James was doubtful about hearing anything with our small apparatus at a distance of 1630 miles from the dispatching station.  We heard nothing, as a matter of fact, and later efforts were similarly unsuccessful.  The conditions would have been difficult even for a station of high power.

We were accumulating gradually a stock of seal meat during these days of waiting.  Fresh meat for the dogs was needed, and seal-steaks and liver made a very welcome change from the ship’s rations aboard the ‘Endurance’.  Four crab-eaters and three Weddells, over a ton of meat for dog and man, fell to our guns on February 2, and all hands were occupied most of the day getting the carcasses back to the ship over the rough ice.  We rigged three sledges for man-haulage and brought the seals about two miles, the sledging parties being guided among the ridges and pools by semaphore from the crow’s-nest.  Two more seals were sighted on the far side of a big pool, but I did not allow them to be pursued.  Some of the ice was in a treacherous condition, with thin films hiding cracks and pools, and I did not wish to risk an accident.