The 22nd was Worsley’s birthday. He had reached his fiftieth milestone, but could easily have passed for ten years less. We celebrated the occasion by an extra special spread at which, to the surprise and (needless to say) delight, of nearly everyone, some bottles of beer materialized. The pièce de résistance was a large pink cake bearing in sugar the inscription, “Wuzzles’ 21st.” He was called upon to cut it himself, and was given a large steel chopper with which to do it. Having performed a Maori war dance, he proceeded to cut it into slices. It proved to be a bit hard, so he attempted to lift it to a better position, to find, to his amazement, that he could scarcely budge it. The cake turned out to be a 56-lb. sinker, which Green had covered with sugar. However, a proper cake was forthcoming, and the evening was spent merrily.
The Quest was not a comfortable ship, and there was little to take the mind from general routine and the business in hand. The continuous struggle with the pack became after a time very exhausting, and there was a chance also of its becoming something of an obsession. Consequently, occasions such as birthdays, which provided a diversion and helped to lift the men out of themselves, were of the greatest value.
February 23rd was a dull grey day. We hoisted the squaresail at daybreak and continued to run off before a strong easterly wind. With sails set there was great difficulty in getting the wardroom stove to burn, for both topsail and squaresail created a powerful and baffling down draught for which we designed and made all sorts and shapes of cowls, but without much success. The wardroom became filled with dense acrid smoke, and the fire was generally allowed to go out when the temperature fell so much that no one could use it to sit about, and those taking their watch below were driven to their bunks. Wilkins and Douglas in the forecastle had the same difficulty. Wilkins, ever resourceful, built a cowl, but it fouled the sheet of the forestay sail and was swept away. Nothing daunted, he built another, which met the same fate. With exemplary patience he built a new one each time the other was lost! We did our best to protect the cowls when setting or taking in sail, but in heavy winds, when the squaresail was let go at the run, it was almost impossible to do so.
Since the evening of the 21st we had made in a west to west-south-westerly direction, but, seeing what appeared to be open seas with sky to the horizon a deep black, I now turned south again. Within an hour, however, we met with small pieces of ice, which became more numerous as we proceeded. We then entered an area of sea full of small round pieces, like snowballs, covered with a fine powdery ice. Snow settling on this area gave it the appearance of a “sea of milk.” The swell continued, but the surface was like oil, unbroken by a single ripple. We passed from this into a belt where the surface was just beginning to freeze, forming the thinnest possible film of ice. The snow on this gave the impression of a grey sea. Visibility, owing to the snow which fell quietly and continuously, was poor. The whole outlook gave a curious impression of greyness, grey sea, grey sky, and everything grey wherever one looked.
As we progressed still farther the filmy surface was replaced by definite pancake formation. Amongst the pancakes were numerous heavy old lumps, much water-worn at sea level, but heavy underneath with long projecting tongues.
The night was cold and snowy and the decks became covered with a very slippery slush on which, with the rolling of the ship, it was not easy to keep a footing. We took in sail, a cold and unpleasant job because all spars, sails and running gear had become coated with a thick covering of ice.
Dinner that night was a cold business, and the dullness of the day and general outlook had rather damped our spirits. Macklin writes on this date:
Owing to the stove refusing to burn, the wardroom was cold, and we gathered round the dinner-table feeling pretty miserable. Green had prepared a big dish of hot potatoes in their jackets. I placed the biggest I could find under my jersey and it warmed me up finely. I kept moving it round so as to warm as much of my body as possible, and finally ate it, warming also my inside. One has to be economical these hard times.
As the light failed the ice began to thicken, and as the swell was causing the floes to grind heavily together I lay to till daybreak. All night long we heard the moaning and complaining of the grinding floes, a number of which, with long underwater tongues, drifted down upon us, causing the ship to take some very bad bumps. To economize our now much-depleted coal I had given Kerr instructions to let the steam fall off, and we had to be constantly sheeting home the topsail and pointing the yards to get her to fall away from our unpleasant neighbours, contact with which might prove dangerous.
The floes looked very weird in the darkness as they surged up on the swell and fell back again into the trough of the sea, the water sucking and gurgling amongst the cracks and chasms and making the most uncanny noises.