FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 
safe as if under water. All the afternoon and evening we 
tugged and shoved till we were dead-beat, and as tired 
and hungry as could be, with not a sign of the ship above 
the horizon. Then it got dusk, and as there was a small 
sea on, and our boat was down to the thwarts with 
seals'-skins, we pulled into the shelter of a small berg 
in the open, and patiently waited for the Balsena to come 
and pick us up. 
As we could not have stowed another seal's tail in 
the boat, we took our ease behind the ice with minds 
at rest, pulled on our mitts, buttoned up every button 
that would help to keep the cold wind out, lit our pipes, 
and made the best of it, resting on our oars, and only 
giving an occasional stroke or two to keep up to our 
shelter. We had a jolly crew, so the time passed merrily. 
Willy Watson, alms Dee Dong, the steersman, sat on the 
skins in the stern and made us laugh all over with his 
funny sayings. Harry Kiddy, the harpooneer, a jolly, 
chubby little man, sang to us with stentorian voice. He 
sang the songs that sailors like, of home and the comforts 
of a fireside, songs of the simplest and most powerful 
sentiment, with no drawing-room tra-la-las. Jack likes 
