position near the centre of the disturbance; but she resisted
staunchly and showed no sign of water in the bilges, although she had
not been pumped out for six months. The pack extended to the horizon in
every direction. I calculated that we were 250 miles from the nearest
known land to the westward, and more than 500 miles from the nearest
outpost of civilization, Wilhelmina Bay. I hoped we would not have to
undertake a march across the moving ice-fields. The 'Endurance' we
knew to be stout and true; but no ship ever built by man could live if
taken fairly in the grip of the floes and prevented from rising to the
surface of the grinding ice. These were anxious days. In the early
morning of September 2 the ship jumped and shook to the accompaniment
of cracks and groans, and some of the men who had been in the berths
hurried on deck. The pressure eased a little later in the day, when
the ice on the port side broke away from the ship to just abaft the
main rigging. The 'Endurance' was still held aft and at the rudder,
and a large mass of ice could be seen adhering to the port bow, rising
to within three feet of the surface. I wondered if this ice had got
its grip by piercing the sheathing.



CHAPTER IV

LOSS OF THE 'ENDURANCE'


The ice did not trouble us again seriously until the end of September,
though during the whole month the floes were seldom entirely without
movement. The roar of pressure would come to us across the otherwise
silent ice-fields, and bring with it a threat and a warning. Watching