The ship’s position on Sunday, May 2, was lat. 75° 23´ S., long. 42° 14´ W. The temperature at noon was 5° below zero Fahr., and the sky was overcast.  A seal was sighted from the mast-head at lunch-time, and five men, with two dog teams, set off after the prize.  They had an uncomfortable journey outward in the dim, diffused light, which cast no shadows and so gave no warning of irregularities in the white surface.  It is a strange sensation to be running along on apparently smooth snow and to fall suddenly into an unseen hollow, or bump against a ridge.

“After going out three miles to the eastward,” wrote Worsley in describing this seal-hunt, “we range up and down but find nothing, until from a hummock I fancy I see something apparently a mile away, but probably little more than half that distance.  I ran for it, found the seal, and with a shout brought up the others at the double.  The seal was a big Weddell, over 10 ft. long and weighing more than 800 lbs.  But Soldier, one of the team leaders, went for its throat without a moment’s hesitation, and we had to beat off the dogs before we could shoot the seal.  We caught five or six gallons of blood in a tin for the dogs, and let the teams have a drink of fresh blood from the seal.  The light was worse than ever on our return, and we arrived back in the dark.  Sir Ernest met us with a lantern and guided us into the lead astern and thence to the ship.”

This was the first seal we had secured since March 19, and the meat and blubber made a welcome addition to the stores.

Three emperor penguins made their appearance in a lead west of the ship on May 3.  They pushed their heads through the young ice while two of the men were standing by the lead.  The men imitated the emperor’s call and walked slowly, penguin fashion, away from the lead.  The birds in succession made a magnificent leap 3 ft. clear from the water on to the young ice.  Thence they tobogganed to the bank and followed the men away from the lead.  Their retreat was soon cut off by a line of men.

“We walk up to them, talking loudly and assuming a threatening aspect.  Notwithstanding our bad manners, the three birds turn towards us, bowing ceremoniously.  Then, after a closer inspection, they conclude that we are undesirable acquaintances and make off across the floe.  We head them off and finally shepherd them close to the ship, where the frenzied barking of the dogs so frightens them that they make a determined effort to break through the line.  We seize them.  One bird of philosophic mien goes quietly, led by one flipper.  The others show fight, but all are imprisoned in an igloo for the night....  In the afternoon we see five emperors in the western lead and capture one.  Kerr and Cheetham fight a valiant action with two large birds.  Kerr rushes at one, seizes it, and is promptly knocked down by the angered penguin, which jumps on his chest before retiring.  Cheetham comes to Kerr’s assistance; and between them they seize another penguin, bind his bill and lead him, muttering muffled protests, to the ship like an inebriated old man between two policemen.  He weighs 85 lbs., or 5 lbs. less than the heaviest emperor captured previously.  Kerr and Cheetham insist that he is nothing to the big fellow who escaped them.”