318 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 
without the least movement, for the air is breathlessly 
still. Later in the evening a mirage strangely affected 
the appearance of the bergs. Round the horizon they 
divided into a circle of pale druidical pillars with yel- 
low light shining between them, and seemed to support 
the canopy of faintly grey sky. Then a soft white fog 
fell, and they disappeared, and the ships began calling to 
one another like partridges in the evening when the mist 
lies low on the winter field. . . . 
Wednesday. — Blowing a gale — always gales ! We are 
dismally tired of the meaningless soughing through 
the icy shrouds, and the clack r clacking of the slack 
ropes. For half an hour at a time we drift broad- 
side to leeward with the helm lashed, then steam 
up again into the smooth water on the friendly side 
of a berg. If we fail to gain the shelter of a berg we 
