About 10 A.M. I decided to send Captain England across to the _Koonya_ with Buckley and the mail, our letters being stamped with the special stamp given by the New Zealand Government. As the sea was rising again we lost no time in making the necessary communication by boat between the two ships, and during a favourable roll the whale-boat was dropped into the water, and Buckley--with his week-end handbag--jumped into her. About a quarter to one Captain Evans signalled that he was going to cut his hawser, for in the rising sea the two vessels were in dangerous proximity to each other. We saw the axe rise and fall, rise and fall again, and the tie was severed. The _Koonya's_ work was done, and at last the _Nimrod_ was dependent upon her own resources. Our consort steamed round us, all hands on both ships cheering; then her bows were set north and she vanished into a grey, snowy mist, homeward bound. All that afternoon we unremittingly toiled to get in the cable link by link, and by seven o'clock we were able to proceed and to put the ship's head due south. By 2 A.M. on January 16, the bergs were much more numerous, but none of the ice we passed through at this time had the slightest resemblance to pack-ice. An hour later we entered an area of tabular bergs, varying from 80 to 150 ft. in height, and all the morning we steamed in beautiful weather through the lanes and streets of a wonderful snowy Venice. The magic of such a scene cannot be described. As far as the eye could see, great, white, wall-sided bergs stretched east, west and south, contrasting strikingly with the lanes of blue-black water between them. A stillness, weird and uncanny, had fallen upon everything. Here there was no sign of life, except when one of the little snow petrels, invisible when flying across the glistening bergs, flashed for a moment into sight. Beautiful as this scene was it gave me some anxiety, for I knew that if we were caught in a breeze amidst this maze of floating ice it would go hard with us. Already an ominous dark cloud was sweeping down from the north, and I was unfeignedly thankful when, in the afternoon, I saw open water ahead. After a few more turnings and twistings we entered the ice-free Ross Sea, this being the first time a passage had been made into that sea without the vessel being held up by pack-ice; and I think our success was due to the fact that we were to the eastward of the pack, which had separated from the land and the Barrier, and had drifted to the north-west. Indeed all my experience goes to prove that the easterly route is the best. Whence these bergs had come is open to conjecture, but I am certain that this ice had not long left the parent barrier or coast-line, for there was no sign of weathering on the sides. Our latitude at noon on the 16th was 68° 6′ South, and the longitude 179° 21′ West.