CHAPTER III 



LEARNING THE ROPES 



Sunday (4th) is a calm, restful day. I think most people 

 on board slept well after the gale. " Rise and shine, Mr. 

 Taylor, sir," is the curious reveille of the steward at 7.30. I 

 don't know how we are to shine, for I haven't had a wash for 

 three days, except a bucketful of sea-water caught with my 

 own (by no means) fair hands. Many of us have had all our 

 suits soaked, and as to-day is really sunny and almost warm, 

 some queer garbs are seen. One scientist reverted to a 

 fashionable Tudor garb — to wit, a long speckled knitted tunic 

 reaching the knees, and a pair of very long thick blue stock- 

 ings ! Now that the ship has stopped rolling through 40 , it 

 is possible to wedge oneself among the stanchions under the 

 deck-pump and obtain a bracing bath. But, as the gentleman 

 who occupies the cabin under the pump ungallantly objects to 

 the water, so to speak, killing two birds with one stone, and 

 bathing him also, we are deprived of this pleasure, and revert 

 to the even more chilly method of heaving up buckets from 

 the vasty deep. The deck-house balcony — an enclosed strip 

 of the poop overlooking the wardroom — forms our dressing- 

 room, and was invaluable during the gale as a changing stage 

 between the howling outer void and the snug wardroom 

 below. 



The first duty was to secure the loose boxes and cargo. 

 The coal-sacks were all emptied into the depleted bunkers, 

 and the cases of petrol for the motor-sledges transferred from 

 the poop further for'ard. 



A glance at the sketch-plan of the deck (p. 39) will show 

 that the three enormous cases containing the motor sledges were 

 almost as large as the permanent structure. Two of them, 

 just in front of the main mast, help to form the walls of a snug 



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