In the failing light we turned towards a line of pack, and found it so tossed and churned by the sea that no fragment remained big enough to give us an anchorage and shelter.

Two miles away we could see a larger piece of ice, and to it we managed, after some trouble, to secure the boats.

I brought my boat bow on to the floe, whilst Howe, with the painter in his hand, stood ready to jump.
Standing up to watch our chance, while the oars were held ready to back the moment Howe had made his leap, I could see that there would be no possibility of getting the galley ashore that night.

Howe just managed to get a footing on the edge of the floe, and then made the painter fast to a hummock.

The other two boats were fastened alongside the 'James Caird'.