As I lay in my bunk last night I seemed to note a measured crush on
the brash ice, and to-day first it was reported that the floes had
become smaller, and then we seemed to note a sort of measured send
alongside the ship. There may be a long low swell, but it is not
helping us apparently; to-night the floes around are indisputably
as large as ever and I see little sign of their breaking or becoming
less tightly locked.

It is a very, very trying time.

We have managed to make 2 or 3 miles in a S.W. (?) direction under
sail by alternately throwing her aback, then filling sail and pressing
through the narrow leads; probably this will scarcely make up for our
drift. It's all very disheartening. The bright side is that everyone
is prepared to exert himself to the utmost--however poor the result
of our labours may show.

Rennick got a sounding again to-day, 1843 fathoms.

One is much struck by our inability to find a cause for the periodic
opening and closing of the floes. One wonders whether there is a reason
to be found in tidal movement. In general, however, it seems to show
that our conditions are governed by remote causes. Somewhere well
north or south of us the wind may be blowing in some other direction,
tending to press up or release pressure; then again such sheets of open
water as those through which we passed to the north afford space into
which bodies of pack can be pushed. The exasperating uncertainty of
one's mind in such captivity is due to ignorance of its cause and
inability to predict the effect of changes of wind. One can only