vaguely comprehend that things are happening far beyond our horizon
which directly affect our situation.

_Tuesday, December_ 27.--Dead reckoning 69° 12' S., 178° 18' W. We
made nearly 2 miles in the first watch--half push, half drift. Then
the ship was again held up. In the middle the ice was close around,
even pressing on us, and we didn't move a yard. The wind steadily
increased and has been blowing a moderate gale, shifting in direction
to E.S.E. We are reduced to lower topsails.

In the morning watch we began to move again, the ice opening out with
the usual astonishing absence of reason. We have made a mile or two in
a westerly direction in the same manner as yesterday. The floes seem
a little smaller, but our outlook is very limited; there is a thick
haze, and the only fact that can be known is that there are pools of
water at intervals for a mile or two in the direction in which we go.

We commence to move between two floes, make 200 or 300 yards, and
are then brought up bows on to a large lump. This may mean a wait
of anything from ten minutes to half an hour, whilst the ship swings
round, falls away, and drifts to leeward. When clear she forges ahead
again and the operation is repeated. Occasionally when she can get
a little way on she cracks the obstacle and slowly passes through
it. There is a distinct swell--very long, very low. I counted the
period as about nine seconds. Everyone says the ice is breaking up. I
have not seen any distinct evidence myself, but Wilson saw a large
floe which had recently cracked into four pieces in such a position
that the ship could not have caused it. The breaking up of the big
floes is certainly a hopeful sign.