Not that we always pushed on blindly, let it be understood. There are certain indications by which men are led down here where fresh instincts are created and the old familiar senses of sight and hearing are given a temporary rest. Invariably where there is water, even though it be beyond our range of vision and tucked away below the horizon, the sky above is definitely darkened, as it were, by a faint rain-cloud. This is known as a water-sky, and, I suppose, must be due to reflection. Throughout the middle watch this day a shoal of seals followed us—thankful to us, no doubt, for breaking the ice and permitting them access to open air. At 2 a.m. Mr. Jeffrey ascended to the masthead, and with a shout of delight announced open water to the south-west, and towards this welcome clearance we joyfully steered. As a change from previous mist, the dawn of this day was wonderfully brilliant—a gorgeous display of natural colouring that awed the senses and turned one’s thoughts upwards. Glorious sunshine continued throughout the day; high spirits characterized all aboard; the atmosphere was intoxicating. The nearest land, we found, was 2,160 fathoms away, less than three miles; but the direction was purely vertical, and the distance was measured by our sounding machine. During all this day we headed fairly south through encouragingly open water, with countless killer whales, seals and Adelie penguins to companion us. But our heartening progress was arrested towards evening by a gradually thickening pack, and the bumping and scrunching recommenced as we crashed along through virgin ice.
The ice thickened through the night; the morning found us in really heavy pack, making practically no headway, and at two o’clock a fresh sounding gave us a depth of 1,450 fathoms. This fairly rapid shoaling seemed to indicate that land could not be far distant. In order that our then position might be plotted down on the map the following details may be useful: Noon position, February 11, latitude (by observation) 68° 52′ south; longitude (observation) 16° 43′ east. Run for previous twenty-four hours and course made good: S. 15 E, 5L miles. Temperature, 18° F. No colder, you will see, than many a Scotch winter day; almost as cold, let us say, as an average English summer!
The Quest is frozen in.
Forging Ahead Through Loose Pack Ice.
