He then told me that Kerr, who had been the harbinger of so much evil tidings, had again to report the discovery of a most serious condition. Whilst cleaning fires he had discovered a leak in the furnace from which the water bubbled out and ran in a thin stream down the sides. He was unable to state definitely the exact condition, which could not be examined until our arrival in South Georgia, as it required that the fires should be drawn to enable him to creep bodily into the furnace. He explained that it might be a small matter which could be repaired, or it might prove to be so serious that the boiler could not be used further. In spite of the quiet way in which Sir Ernest took this news, and the calm which he outwardly exhibited, I think it proved to be a pretty severe blow and the cause of a good deal of worry. Indeed, all this recurrence of trouble from below decks, in departments which he personally had not been able to supervise, must have proved very trying. From the very first inception of the expedition he had had difficulties innumerable which might well have broken the spirit of a lesser man. For the present Kerr was instructed to keep a watchful eye on the condition and, unless it appeared to be getting worse, to carry on under reduced pressure. The wind again blew up to a moderate gale from the westward on December 30th, much less severe, however, than the last one, though with very violent squalls. We ran off before it, making good speed, and though the rising seas rushed down upon our stern as if to poop us, the _Quest_ rose to let them pass frothing and sizzling, but harmless, under our counter. Towards evening, however, both wind and sea had increased, and Sir Ernest decided to take in sail and heave-to. Much water came on board and found its way into Sir Ernest’s cabin and my own, the doors of which opened on to the waist of the ship. The bunks were sodden, so much so that Sir Ernest left his and made up a bed on one of the benches in the wardroom, refusing to deprive any other man of his bunk. During the long spell of bad weather he had spent nearly the whole time on the bridge, and though I repeatedly suggested to him that he should lie down and rest, he would not do so. On this particular night he took Worsley’s watch as well as his own, so that Worsley’s rest might not be disturbed. He was always doing little things like this for other people. About this time I began to feel a little bit uneasy, for it seemed to me that he was doing too much and subjecting himself to too great a strain. Macklin’s diary shows that he had the wheel during the second dog-watch, and was relieved at 8.0 P.M. by Sir Ernest, who told him to lash the wheel and go to bed. Macklin noticed, however, that the Boss was looking tired and ill, and urged him to call Worsley (whose real watch it was) and turn in himself. The Boss would not hear of it, saying: “You boys are tired and need all the sleep you can get.” The diary says: