iron plates on the floor buckled up and overrode with loud clangs.  Meanwhile the floes were grinding off each other’s projecting points and throwing up pressure-ridges.  The ship stood the strain well for nearly an hour and then, to my great relief, began to rise with heavy jerks and jars.  She lifted ten inches forward and three feet four inches aft, at the same time heeling six degrees to port.  The ice was getting below us and the immediate danger had passed.  The position was lat. 69° 19´ S., long. 50° 40´ W.

The next attack of the ice came on the afternoon of October 18th.  The two floes began to move laterally, exerting great pressure on the ship.  Suddenly the floe on the port side cracked and huge pieces of ice shot up from under the port bilge.  Within a few seconds the ship heeled over until she had a list of thirty degrees to port, being held under the starboard bilge by the opposing floe.  The lee boats were now almost resting on the floe.  The midship dog-kennels broke away and crashed down on to the lee kennels, and the howls and barks of the frightened dogs assisted to create a perfect pandemonium.  Everything movable on deck and below fell to the lee side, and for a few minutes it looked as if the ‘Endurance’ would be thrown upon her beam ends.  Order was soon restored.  I had all fires put out and battens nailed on the deck to give the dogs a foothold and enable people to get about.  Then the crew lashed all the movable gear.  If the ship had heeled any farther it would have been necessary to release the lee boats and pull them clear, and Worsley was watching to give the alarm.  Hurley meanwhile descended to the floe and took some photographs of the ship in her unusual position.  Dinner in the wardroom that evening was a curious affair.  Most of the diners had to sit on the deck, their feet against battens and their plates on their knees.  At 8 p.m. the floes opened, and within a few minutes the ‘Endurance’ was nearly upright again.  Orders were given for the ice to be chipped clear of the rudder.  The men poled the blocks out of the way when they had been detached from the floe with the long ice-chisels, and we were able to haul the ship’s stern into a clear berth.  Then the boiler was pumped up.  This work was completed early in the morning of October 19, and during that day the engineer lit fires and got up steam very slowly, in order to economize fuel and avoid any strain on the chilled boilers by unequal heating.  The crew cut up all loose lumber, boxes, etc., and put them in the bunkers for fuel.  The day was overcast, with occasional snowfalls, the temperature +12° Fahr.  The ice in our neighbourhood was quiet, but in the distance pressure was at work.  The wind freshened in the evening, and we ran a wire-mooring astern.  The barometer at 11 p.m. stood at 28.96, the lowest since the gales of July.  An uproar among the dogs attracted attention late in the afternoon, and we found a 25-ft. whale cruising up and down in our pool.  It pushed its head up once in characteristic killer fashion, but we judged from its small curved dorsal fin that it was a specimen of Balaenoptera acutorostrata, not Orca gladiator.