THE HEART OF THE ANTARCTIC 



the salt-encrusted hurricane lamp, jerking to and fro, 

 made a glimmer of light. The roar of the tempest rose 

 into a shriek as the wind struck the rigid rigging, the 

 creaking and swaying of the roof of the stable and the 

 boat-skids, which partly rested their weight on it, seemed 

 to threaten a sudden collapse with each succeeding and 

 heavier roll, and the seas crashed dully as they fell on 

 board. The swirling waters, foam- white in the dim rays 

 of the lamp, rushed through the stable and over the 

 hatch, and even from the bridge far aft, we could hear the 

 frightened whinnies of the animals, as they desperately 

 struggled to keep their feet in the water that flooded the 

 rolling stables. Every now and then some wave, larger 

 and fiercer than the one before, would sweep the decks, tear 

 the mats from under the feet of the ponies, and wash 

 the watch-keepers almost under the struggling beasts. 

 When the bulk of the water had passed, the mats 

 were nailed down again with difficulty, and the 

 two watchers resumed their seats on a bag of fodder that 

 had been fastened to the hatch. One can imagine that 

 after a two-hours' watch a rest was welcome. Oyster 

 Alley was wet enough, and the beds were soaking, while 

 the atmosphere was thick and heavy ; but these conditions 

 did not prevent the wearied men from falling asleep after 

 wedging themselves into their bunks, lest some extra 

 heavy lurch should send them to keep company with the 

 miscellaneous collection of articles careering up and down 

 the deck of the alley. 



All during our second night out, the weather was so 

 bad that we kept going slow, having requested the Koonya 

 to slacken speed late in the afternoon. Next morning 

 found us plunging, swerving, and rolling in a high 

 sea, with a dull grey stormy sky overhead, and appar- 

 ently no prospect of the weather becoming settled. We 

 were moving little more than a mile an hour towards the 



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