Part I: Seals teeth and whales ears - Scott Polar Research Institute ...

Another fine day came, with it a big swell. Jumbo and I cleared out the
heads (WCs), but the scuppers were blocked and since the method was to turn
on the hose there was soon several inches of water over the mess deck and
cabins. It took us some time to clear it up. There were flying fish about,
although not very abundant, and numbers of pink Physalia. I did some
dobeying (clothes washing) and Jack gave a talk on making bread and cakes,
but unfortunately there was a wind blowing and I couldn't hear it all. David
and I talked for hours in the starlight about things in general, people,
philosophies, morals and codes of behaviour.
I woke, on the monkey-island, to find myself sharing a pillow with Brian
and a brilliant sunrise in sight every time the ship rolled to port. The wind was
freshening and there were ominous dark clouds above. David had a flying fish
for breakfast and I did a quick dissection to see if it conformed to my
speculations. The optic lobes and cerebellum were large as were the semicircular
canals, correlated with large eyes (feeds at dusk?) and balancing for
gliding flight. I had a free day, but with the ship rolling violently and the
clinometer registering more than 32° from the vertical it was difficult to do
anything. Some large waves were shipped. Bill had to postpone his lecture.
A commentary on the current conditions:
DRIP, DRIP, DRIP
We are sailing away to a land
Which the misguided at home understand
Is an area so cold
And our venture so bold
What is really in store for our band?
It would seem if you stop to reflect
Tax your knowledge and try to detect
Any hardship down South
Worse than those in Thames' mouth
Then your fears for the future reject.
Take the level to which you have sunk
In a thirty 'gree roll in your bunk
But in Marguerite Bay
It is seldom that way
And at hand for your head an ice chunk.
Continuing with thoughts of our sleep
Relief from such items we seek
As smells of fuel oil
Old cabbages, boiled,
And thick air causing slumber so deep.
The ice, which we'll sleep on we think
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