Three men were needed to attend to the
cooking, one man holding the lamp and two men guarding the aluminium
cooking-pot, which had to be lifted clear of the Primus whenever the
movement of the boat threatened to cause a disaster. Then the lamp had
to be protected from water, for sprays were coming over the bows and
our flimsy decking was by no means water-tight. All these operations
were conducted in the confined space under the decking, where the men
lay or knelt and adjusted themselves as best they could to the angles
of our cases and ballast. It was uncomfortable, but we found
consolation in the reflection that without the decking we could not
have used the cooker at all.
The tale of the next sixteen days is one of supreme strife amid
heaving waters. The sub-Antarctic Ocean lived up to its evil winter
reputation. I decided to run north for at least two days while the
wind held and so get into warmer weather before turning to the east and
laying a course for South Georgia. We took two-hourly spells at the
tiller. The men who were not on watch crawled into the sodden sleeping-
bags and tried to forget their troubles for a period; but there was no
comfort in the boat. The bags and cases seemed to be alive in the
unfailing knack of presenting their most uncomfortable angles to our
rest-seeking bodies.
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