The continuous blows shifted
the box-lids and sledge-runners so that the canvas sagged down and
accumulated water. Then icy trickles, distinct from the driving
sprays, poured fore and aft into the boat. The nails that the
carpenter had extracted from cases at Elephant Island and used to
fasten down the battens were too short to make firm the decking. We did
what we could to secure it, but our means were very limited, and the
water continued to enter the boat at a dozen points. Much baling was
necessary, and nothing that we could do prevented our gear from
becoming sodden. The searching runnels from the canvas were really
more unpleasant than the sudden definite douches of the sprays. Lying
under the thwarts during watches below, we tried vainly to avoid them.
There were no dry places in the boat, and at last we simply covered our
heads with our Burberrys and endured the all-pervading water. The
baling was work for the watch. Real rest we had none. The perpetual
motion of the boat made repose impossible; we were cold, sore, and
anxious. We moved on hands and knees in the semi-darkness of the day
under the decking. The darkness was complete by 6 p.m., and not until
7 a.m. of the following day could we see one another under the thwarts.
We had a few scraps of candle, and they were preserved carefully in
order that we might have light at meal-times.
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