The swell is more marked to-day, and I feel sure we are at the verge of the floe-ice.

One strong gale, followed by a calm would scatter the pack, I think, and then we could push through.

I have been thinking much of our prospects.

The appearance of Clarence Island after our long drift seems, somehow, to convey an ultimatum.

The island is the last outpost of the south and our final chance of a landing-place.