Some members of the scratch crew were played out by the
cold and the violent tossing. The schooner was about seventy feet
long, and she responded to the motions of the storm-racked sea in a
manner that might have disconcerted the most seasoned sailors.
I took the schooner south at every chance, but always the line of ice
blocked the way. The engineer, who happened to be an American, did
things to the engines occasionally, but he could not keep them running,
and, the persistent south winds were dead ahead. It was hard to turn
back a third time, but I realized we could not reach the island under
those conditions, and we must turn north in order to clear the ship of
heavy masses of ice. So we set a northerly course, and after a
tempestuous passage reached Port Stanley once more. This was the third
reverse, but I did not abandon my belief that the ice would not remain
fast around Elephant Island during the winter, whatever the arm-chair
experts at home might say. We reached Port Stanley in the schooner on
August 8, and I learned there that the ship Discovery was to leave
England at once and would be at the Falkland Islands about the middle
of September. My good friend the Governor said I could settle down at
Port Stanley and take things quietly for a few weeks. The street of
that port is about a mile and a half long.
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