to the westward.  The day was observed as a holiday, necessary work only being undertaken, and, after the best dinner the cook could provide, all hands gathered in the Ritz, where speeches, songs, and toasts occupied the evening.  After supper at midnight we sang “God Save the King” and wished each other all success in the days of sunshine and effort that lay ahead.  At this time the ‘Endurance’ was making an unusually rapid drift to the north under the influence of a fresh southerly to south-westerly breeze.  We travelled 39 miles to the north in five days before a breeze that only once attained the force of a gale and then for no more than an hour.  The absence of strong winds, in comparison with the almost unceasing winter blizzards of the Ross Sea, was a feature of the Weddell Sea that impressed itself upon me during the winter months.

Another race took place a few days after the “Derby.”  The two crack teams, driven by Hurley and Wild, met in a race from Khyber Pass.  Wild’s team, pulling 910 lbs., or 130 lbs. per dog, covered the 700 yds. in 2 min. 9 sec., or at the rate of 11.1 miles per hour.  Hurley’s team, with the same load, did the run in 2 min. 16 sec.  The race was awarded by the judge to Hurley owing to Wild failing to “weigh in” correctly.  I happened to be a part of the load on his sledge, and a skid over some new drift within fifty yards of the winning post resulted in my being left on the snow.  It should be said in justice to the dogs that this accident, while justifying the disqualification, could not have made any material difference in the time.

The approach of the returning sun was indicated by beautiful sunrise glows on the horizon in the early days of July.  We had nine hours’ twilight on the 10th, and the northern sky, low to the horizon, was tinted with gold for about seven hours.  Numerous cracks and leads extended in all directions to within 300 yds. of the ship.  Thin wavering black lines close to the northern horizon were probably distant leads refracted into the sky.  Sounds of moderate pressure came to our ears occasionally, but the ship was not involved.  At midnight on the 11th a crack in the lead ahead of the ‘Endurance’ opened out rapidly, and by 2 a.m. was over 200 yds. wide in places with an area of open water to the south-west.  Sounds of pressure were heard along this lead, which soon closed to a width of about 30 yds. and then froze over.  The temperature at that time was -23° Fahr.

The most severe blizzard we had experienced in the Weddell Sea swept down upon the ‘Endurance’ on the evening of the 13th, and by breakfast-time on the following morning the kennels to the windward, or southern side of the ship were buried under 5 ft. of drift.  I gave orders that no man should venture beyond the kennels.  The ship was invisible at a distance of fifty yards, and it was impossible to preserve one’s sense of direction in the raging wind and suffocating drift.  To walk against the