It was devoid of tune and as monotonous as the chanting of a Buddhist monk at his prayers; yet somehow it was cheerful.

In moments of inspiration Crean would attempt "The Wearing of the Green." On the tenth night Worsley could not straighten his body after his spell at the tiller.

He was thoroughly cramped, and we had to drag him beneath the decking and massage him before he could unbend himself and get into a sleeping-bag.

A hard north-westerly gale came up on the eleventh day (May 5) and shifted to the south-west in the late afternoon.

The sky was overcast and occasional snow-squalls added to the discomfort produced by a tremendous cross-sea--the worst, I thought, that we had experienced.