of what to him was an unhappy situation; but was not altogether without material.  The pebbles found in the penguins were often of considerable interest, and some fragments of rock were brought up from the sea floor with the sounding-lead and the drag-net.  On the 7th Wordie and Worsley found some small pebbles, a piece of moss, a perfect bivalve shell, and some dust on a berg fragment, and brought their treasure-trove proudly to the ship.  Clark was using the drag-net frequently in the leads and secured good hauls of plankton, with occasional specimens of greater scientific interest.  Seals were not plentiful, but our store of meat and blubber grew gradually.  All hands ate seal meat with relish and would not have cared to become dependent on the ship’s tinned meat.  We preferred the crab-eater to the Weddell, which is a very sluggish beast.  The crab-eater seemed cleaner and healthier.  The killer-whales were still with us.  On the 8th we examined a spot where the floe-ice had been smashed up by a blow from beneath, delivered presumably by a large whale in search of a breathing-place.  The force that had been exercised was astonishing.  Slabs of ice 3 ft. thick, and weighing tons, had been tented upwards over a circular area with a diameter of about 25 ft., and cracks radiated outwards for more than 20 ft.

The quarters in the ’tween decks were completed by the 10th, and the men took possession of the cubicles that had been built.  The largest cubicle contained Macklin, McIlroy, Hurley, and Hussey and it was named “The Billabong.”  Clark and Wordie lived opposite in a room called “Auld Reekie.”  Next came the abode of “The Nuts” or engineers, followed by “The Sailors’ Rest,” inhabited by Cheetham and McNeish.  “The Anchorage” and “The Fumarole” were on the other side.  The new quarters became known as “The Ritz,” and meals were served there instead of in the ward room.  Breakfast was at 9 a.m., lunch at 1 p.m., tea at 4 p.m., and dinner at 6 p.m.  Wild, Marston, Crean, and Worsley established themselves in cubicles in the wardroom, and by the middle of the month all hands had settled down to the winter routine.  I lived alone aft.

Worsley, Hurley, and Wordie made a journey to a big berg, called by us the Rampart Berg, on the 11th.  The distance out was 7½ miles, and the party covered a total distance of about 17 miles.  Hurley took some photographs and Wordie came back rejoicing with a little dust and some moss.

“Within a radius of one mile round the berg there is thin young ice, strong enough to march over with care,” wrote Worsley.  “The area of dangerous pressure, as regards a ship, does not seem to extend for more than a quarter of a mile from the berg.  Here there are cracks and constant slight movement, which becomes exciting to the traveller when he feels a piece of ice gradually upending beneath his feet.  Close to the berg the pressure makes all sorts of quaint noises.  We heard tapping