At dusk we made fast to a heavy floe, each boat having its painter
fastened to a separate hummock in order to avoid collisions in the
swell. We landed the blubber-stove, boiled some water in order to
provide hot milk, and served cold rations. I also landed the dome
tents and stripped the coverings from the hoops. Our experience of the
previous day in the open sea had shown us that the tents must be packed
tightly. The spray had dashed over the bows and turned to ice on the
cloth, which had soon grown dangerously heavy. Other articles off our
scanty equipment had to go that night. We were carrying only the
things that had seemed essential, but we stripped now to the barest
limit of safety. We had hoped for a quiet night, but presently we were
forced to cast off, since pieces of loose ice began to work round the
floe. Drift-ice is always attracted to the lee side of a heavy floe,
where it bumps and presses under the influence of the current. I had
determined not to risk a repetition of the last night's experience and
so had not pulled the boats up. We spent the hours of darkness keeping
an offing from the main line of pack under the lee of the smaller
pieces. Constant rain and snow squalls blotted out the stars and
soaked us through, and at times it was only by shouting to each other
that we managed to keep the boats together.
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