After two more days our fortune changed, and a strong north-easterly wind brought “a beastly cold, windy day” and drove us back three and a quarter miles.  Soon, however, the wind once more veered to the south and south-west.  These high temperatures, combined with the strong changeable winds that we had had of late, led me to conclude that the ice all around us was rotting and breaking up and that the moment of our deliverance from the icy maw of the Antarctic was at hand.

On December 20, after discussing the question with Wild, I informed all hands that I intended to try and make a march to the west to reduce the distance between us and Paulet Island.  A buzz of pleasurable anticipation went round the camp, and every one was anxious to get on the move.  So the next day I set off with Wild, Crean, and Hurley, with dog teams, to the westward to survey the route.  After travelling about seven miles we mounted a small berg, and there as far as we could see stretched a series of immense flat floes from half a mile to a mile across, separated from each other by pressure-ridges which seemed easily negotiable with pick and shovel.  The only place that appeared likely to be formidable was a very much cracked-up area between the old floe that we were on and the first of the series of young flat floes about half a mile away.

December 22 was therefore kept as Christmas Day, and most of our small remaining stock of luxuries was consumed at the Christmas feast.  We could not carry it all with us, so for the last time for eight months we had a really good meal—­as much as we could eat.  Anchovies in oil, baked beans, and jugged hare made a glorious mixture such as we have not dreamed of since our school-days.  Everybody was working at high pressure, packing and repacking sledges and stowing what provisions we were going to take with us in the various sacks and boxes.  As I looked round at the eager faces of the men I could not but hope that this time the fates would be kinder to us than in our last attempt to march across the ice to safety.

CHAPTER VI

THE MARCH BETWEEN

With the exception of the night-watchman we turned in at 11 p.m., and at 3 a.m. on December 23 all hands were roused for the purpose of sledging the two boats, the ‘James Caird’ and the ‘Dudley Docker’, over the dangerously cracked portion to the first of the young floes, whilst the surface still held its night crust.  A thick sea-fog came up from the west, so we started off finally at 4.30 a.m., after a drink of hot coffee.

Practically all hands had to be harnessed to each boat in succession, and by dint of much careful manipulation and tortuous courses amongst the broken ice we got both safely over the danger-zone.

We then returned to Ocean Camp for the tents and the rest of the sledges, and pitched camp by the boats about one and a quarter miles off.  On the way back a big seal was caught which provided fresh food for ourselves and for the dogs.  On arrival at the camp a supper of cold tinned mutton and tea was served, and everybody turned in at 2 p.m.  It was my intention to sleep by day and march by night, so as to take advantage of the slightly lower temperatures and consequent harder surfaces.