222 
FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 
blowing down on us over their tops, humming as it does 
in mountain tops before a storm ; snow fine as dust and 
as hard as flint is driven along with it, stinging our faces 
till they burn. It has filled up all the nooks and crannies 
about the decks, and lies in the folds of our furled sails. 
We can make no progress, can do nothing but dodge 
about in the lee of a big berg and keep out of harm's 
way : the few men on deck are getting the whale lances 
and knives ready, giving them all a touch-up on the 
grindstone. It is midsummer, but the Balsena looks 
like a Christmas-card, and we feel the blazing stove in 
the cabin none too warm. 
As I have already mentioned, one of our hands who did 
haircutting and bird-skinning left us at the Falklands, so 
the doctor has taken up bird-skinning in his place, and 
