FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 285 
times we can make out the penguins' black backs, whilst 
the snow beneath them is indistinguishable from the mist. 
Monday, — Still wrapped in mist. . . . One of the boats 
is lost. The mist lifted a little, and some seals were seen 
and a boat sent off. It fell immediately, and we lost sight 
of the boat. For a time we heard the shots, and then they 
seemed utterly lost. . . . We keep the fog-horn booming 
its muffled note every two or three minutes. It seems 
hopeless to send sound through these misty walls. In the 
silence that follows, the white petrels flitting past us seem 
more silent and moth-like than usual. 
Towards evening the thermometer went up to 35°, the 
highest point it has reached since we entered the ice. 
Later a faint air came from the south and soon brought it 
down below freezing again. As the cold air lifted the 
mist it showed us the foot of a berg a few hundred yards 
from us, its blue and grey sides wrinkled and puckered 
into many folds of pale blue and white. The lift in the 
mist helped us to pick up the boat. 
The Polar Star has turned up at last. We thought she 
had turned back or foundered. As the mist rose she 
appeared on the pack-edge threading her way towards 
us under sail through the loose ice. We hauled up our 
ensign and steamed towards her, playing on the pipes, as 
is our wont here on great occasions. As she came 
alongside there was much cheering. Most of our men 
have acquaintances on board, and some have brothers. 
She left Dundee two days after us and went down the 
English Channel and escaped all the bad weather we 
