and his assistants caulked the coffer-dam with strips of blankets and nailed strips over the seams wherever possible.  The main or hand pump was frozen up and could not be used at once.  After it had been knocked out Worsley, Greenstreet, and Hudson went down in the bunkers and cleared the ice from the bilges.  “This is not a pleasant job,” wrote Worsley.  “We have to dig a hole down through the coal while the beams and timbers groan and crack all around us like pistol-shots.  The darkness is almost complete, and we mess about in the wet with half-frozen hands and try to keep the coal from slipping back into the bilges.  The men on deck pour buckets of boiling water from the galley down the pipe as we prod and hammer from below, and at last we get the pump clear, cover up the bilges to keep the coal out, and rush on deck, very thankful to find ourselves safe again in the open air.”

Monday, October 25, dawned cloudy and misty, with a minus temperature and a strong south-easterly breeze.  All hands were pumping at intervals and assisting the carpenter with the coffer-dam.  The leak was being kept under fairly easily, but the outlook was bad.  Heavy pressure-ridges were forming in all directions, and though the immediate pressure upon the ship was not severe, I realized that the respite would not be prolonged.  The pack within our range of vision was being subjected to enormous compression, such as might be caused by cyclonic winds, opposing ocean currents, or constriction in a channel of some description.  The pressure-ridges, massive and threatening, testified to the overwhelming nature of the forces that were at work.  Huge blocks of ice, weighing many tons, were lifted into the air and tossed aside as other masses rose beneath them.  We were helpless intruders in a strange world, our lives dependent upon the play of grim elementary forces that made a mock of our puny efforts.  I scarcely dared hope now that the ‘Endurance’ would live, and throughout that anxious day I reviewed again the plans made long before for the sledging journey that we must make in the event of our having to take to the ice.  We were ready, as far as forethought could make us, for every contingency.  Stores, dogs, sledges, and equipment were ready to be moved from the ship at a moment’s notice.

The following day brought bright clear weather, with a blue sky.  The sunshine was inspiriting.  The roar of pressure could be heard all around us.  New ridges were rising, and I could see as the day wore on that the lines of major disturbance were drawing nearer to the ship.  The ‘Endurance’ suffered some strains at intervals.  Listening below, I could hear the creaking and groaning of her timbers, the pistol-like cracks that told of the starting of a trenail or plank, and the faint, indefinable whispers of our ship’s distress.  Overhead the sun shone serenely; occasional fleecy clouds drifted before the southerly breeze, and the light glinted and sparkled on the million facets of the new pressure-ridges.