about 180 miles, but a party going there would still be about 360 miles
from Paulet Island and there would be no means of sustaining life on
the barrier. We could not take from here food enough for the whole
journey; the weight would be too great.

"This morning, our last on the ship, the weather was clear, with a
gentle south-south-easterly to south-south-westerly breeze. From the
crow's-nest there was no sign of land of any sort. The pressure was
increasing steadily, and the passing hours brought no relief or respite
for the ship. The attack of the ice reached its climax at 4 p.m. The
ship was hove stern up by the pressure, and the driving floe, moving
laterally across the stern, split the rudder and tore out the rudder-
post and stern-post. Then, while we watched, the ice loosened and the
'Endurance' sank a little. The decks were breaking upwards and the
water was pouring in below. Again the pressure began, and at 5 p.m. I
ordered all hands on to the ice. The twisting, grinding floes were
working their will at last on the ship. It was a sickening sensation
to feel the decks breaking up under one's feet, the great beams bending
and then snapping with a noise like heavy gunfire. The water was
overmastering the pumps, and to avoid an explosion when it reached the
boilers I had to give orders for the fires to be drawn and the steam
let down. The plans for abandoning the ship in case of emergency had
been made well in advance, and men and dogs descended to the floe and
made their way to the comparative safety of an unbroken portion of the
floe without a hitch. Just before leaving, I looked down the engine-
room skylight as I stood on the quivering deck, and saw the engines
dropping sideways as the stays and bed-plates gave way. I cannot
describe the impression of relentless destruction that was forced upon
me as I looked down and around. The floes, with the force of millions
of tons of moving ice behind them, were simply annihilating the ship."