It was with tremendous relief that I saw Wilkins appear some minutes after and go to the halliards. He told me later that he had shouted that he was all right, but the sound of his voice was swept away by the violent wind. He had grabbed the backstay and fallen to the deck, fortunately without damage. We swigged home the squaresail and felt the ship lurch and stagger under its influence, but it increased our speed and enabled us to put the miles behind us. We tore through the water, which bore down on our stern as though to overwhelm us and passed sizzling and hissing along our sides. We were swept continually. One heavy sea, coming over our stern, fell with a smash on the poop, carried away the after-scuttle, broke the skylights and filled the after-cabin with several feet of water. Dell, McLeod and Marr immediately set to to repair the damage with temporary structures, which would at least be watertight. Dell and McLeod were required for another job, and Marr carried on alone. The work was difficult and extremely unpleasant. The seas kept coming over the stern, compelling him to grab some support to prevent being swept forward with the wash. He was soaked from head to foot, the water freezing and casing him in a solid suit of ice. I kept a watchful eye on him. He stuck gamely to his work and made an excellent job of it. If he is a product of Boy Scout training it says much for the organization. I warn Sir Robert Baden-Powell that he will find himself hard put to it to “skin alive” this hefty young seaman.[10] We continued running all day and kept the sail on throughout the night. On March 29th the wind abated a little, but it still continued to blow a full gale. The seas had not gone down and the _Quest_ was thrown about like a plaything of the ocean, so that the man at the wheel had his work cut out to maintain the course and prevent her from broaching-to. I hung on, however, for we were making good progress in the right direction and saving coal. We had irrevocably cut ourselves off from any chance of seeing our old winter quarters at Cape Wild, which was a great disappointment to us all, especially to McIlroy, who in the excitement of the rescue had left behind his diary. It was wrapped up in an oilskin covering and he had great hopes of recovering it. One writer says in his diary: This is a great disappointment, but one meets many in this kind of work, and it is no good making a moan about them.... I would like to have got there all the same (he adds irrelevantly).