So the gun remained among the stores and sleeping-
bags in the narrow quarters beneath our leaking deck, and the birds
followed us unmolested.
The eighth, ninth, and tenth days of the voyage had few features
worthy of special note. The wind blew hard during those days, and the
strain of navigating the boat was unceasing, but always we made some
advance towards our goal. No bergs showed on our horizon, and we knew
that we were clear of the ice-fields. Each day brought its little
round of troubles, but also compensation in the form of food and
growing hope. We felt that we were going to succeed. The odds against
us had been great, but we were winning through. We still suffered
severely from the cold, for, though the temperature was rising, our
vitality was declining owing to shortage of food, exposure, and the
necessity of maintaining our cramped positions day and night. I found
that it was now absolutely necessary to prepare hot milk for all hands
during the night, in order to sustain life till dawn. This meant
lighting the Primus lamp in the darkness and involved an increased
drain on our small store of matches. It was the rule that one match
must serve when the Primus was being lit. We had no lamp for the
compass and during the early days of the voyage we would strike a match
when the steersman wanted to see the course at night; but later the
necessity for strict economy impressed itself upon us, and the practice
of striking matches at night was stopped.
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