Night fell early, and in the lagging
hours of darkness we were cheered by a change for the better in the
weather. The wind dropped, the snow-squalls became less frequent, and
the sea moderated. When the morning of the seventh day dawned there
was not much wind. We shook the reef out of the sail and laid our
course once more for South Georgia. The sun came out bright and clear,
and presently Worsley got a snap for longitude. We hoped that the sky
would remain clear until noon, so that we could get the latitude. We
had been six days out without an observation, and our dead reckoning
naturally was uncertain. The boat must have presented a strange
appearance that morning. All hands basked in the sun. We hung our
sleeping-bags to the mast and spread our socks and other gear all over
the deck. Some of the ice had melted off the 'James Caird' in the
early morning after the gale began to slacken; and dry patches were
appearing in the decking. Porpoises came blowing round the boat, and
Cape pigeons wheeled and swooped within a few feet of us. These little
black-and-white birds have an air of friendliness that is not possessed
by the great circling albatross. They had looked grey against the
swaying sea during the storm as they darted about over our heads and
uttered their plaintive cries.
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