was iron and, therefore, at least a 12 hours job. Captain Scott was
simply splendid, he might have been at Cowes, and to do him and Teddy
Evans credit, at our worst strait none of our landsmen who were working
so hard knew how serious things were. Capt. Scott said to me quietly--'I
am afraid it's a bad business for us--What do you think?' I said we were
by no means dead yet, though at that moment, Oates, at peril of his life,
got aft to report another horse dead; and more down. And then an awful
sea swept away our lee bulwarks clean, between the fore and main
riggings,--only our chain lashings saved the lee motor sledge then, and I
was soon diving after petrol cases. Captain Scott calmly told me that
they 'did not matter'--This was our great project for getting to the
Pole--the much advertised motors that 'did not matter'; our dogs looked
finished, and horses were finishing, and I went to bale with a strenuous
prayer in my heart, and 'Yip-i-addy' on my lips, and so we pulled through
that day. We sang and re-sang every silly song we ever knew, and then
everybody in the ship later on was put on 2-hour reliefs to bale, as it
was impossible for flesh to keep heart with no food or rest. Even the
fresh-water pump had gone wrong so we drank neat lime juice, or anything
that came along, and sat in our saturated state awaiting our next spell.
My dressing gown was my great comfort as it was not very wet, and it is a
lovely warm thing.

"To make a long yarn short, we found later in the day that the storm was
easing a bit and that though there was a terrible lot of water in the
ship, which, try as we could, we could not reduce, it certainly had
ceased to rise to any great extent. We had reason to hope then that we
might keep her afloat till the pump wells could be cleared. Had the storm
lasted another day, God knows what our state would have been, if we had
been above water at all. You cannot imagine how utterly helpless we felt
in such a sea with a tiny ship,--the great expedition with all its hopes