FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 
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know the land is close at hand, from our soundings, and 
feel chirpy in consequence. A pair of penguins have put 
in an appearance. All the other birds have gone except 
our faithful stormy petrels. The penguins followed us 
under our counter for some time, swimming under water 
after the manner of their kind. Occasionally they put 
their heads into our atmosphere and looked about them, 
then dived and followed, looking up at us from below the 
water. But more of penguins anon. We hope to see 
them in their thousands when we get into the Antarctic 
ice, and many other strange birds besides. 
On the fore-deck the crew are ranging the cable, and 
the mate and his watch are getting the anchors off the 
focsle-head, heaving them with handspike and tackle 
till they hang at the catheads ready to let go. Viewed 
from the poop, this makes a splendid picture. Immedi- 
ately beneath me there is the wet deck and glistering 
bulwarks running up into perspective ; and on the focsle- 
head stands a group of dark figures, blurred in the 
mist, and framed in by the great folds of the clewed-up 
mainsail, that hang in grand sculpturesque folds. There 
is a feeling of sunlight in the mist, and up aloft a faint 
air flaps the damp sails at times, and brings down showers 
of rain-drops from the wet shrouds and yards. 
