The albatrosses, of the black or sooty
variety, had watched with hard, bright eyes, and seemed to have a quite
impersonal interest in our struggle to keep afloat amid the battering
seas. In addition to the Cape pigeons an occasional stormy petrel
flashed overhead. Then there was a small bird, unknown to me, that
appeared always to be in a fussy, bustling state, quite out of keeping
with the surroundings. It irritated me. It had practically no tail,
and it flitted about vaguely as though in search of the lost member. I
used to find myself wishing it would find its tail and have done with
the silly fluttering.
We revelled in the warmth of the sun that day. Life was not so bad,
after all. We felt we were well on our way. Our gear was drying, and
we could have a hot meal in comparative comfort. The swell was still
heavy, but it was not breaking and the boat rode easily. At noon
Worsley balanced himself on the gunwale and clung with one hand to the
stay of the mainmast while he got a snap of the sun. The result was
more than encouraging. We had done over 380 miles and were getting on
for half-way to South Georgia. It looked as though we were going to
get through.
The wind freshened to a good stiff breeze during the afternoon, and
the 'James Caird' made satisfactory progress.
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