We had adjusted ourselves to the life on the floe, but our hopes had been fixed all the time on some possible landing-place.

As one hope failed to materialize, our anticipations fed themselves on another.

Our drifting home had no rudder to guide it, no sail to give it speed.

We were dependent upon the caprice of wind and current; we went whither those irresponsible forces listed.

The longing to feel solid earth under our feet filled our hearts.
In the full daylight Clarence Island ceased to look like land and had the appearance of a berg of more than eight or ten miles away, so deceptive are distances in the clear air of the Antarctic.