The day was bright, with warm sunshine, turning Cooper Bay, which I had previously visited under less favourable circumstances, into a beautiful spot. Seabirds of all sorts covered the rocks and flew overhead, filling the air with raucous cries, which sounded, however, not unpleasant, fitting the wild environment. Seals and sea-elephants were ashore in hundreds, lying lazily on the shingle of the beach or in the hollows of the tussock grass behind. Ringed and Gentoo penguins strutted solemnly about like leisurely old gentlemen taking the sea air. On the hills behind were large rookeries where these quaint birds were gathered together in thousands. I had no difficulty in obtaining the necessary number of skua gulls, and I saw that Macklin and Marr had made a little heap of penguins close to the boat, Macklin rejecting, with the discriminating care of one whose staple diet they have formed for months, the old tough birds and picking out the young and tender. Marr was delighted with his new experiences, being particularly fascinated with these almost human looking little creatures. So pleasant was the day that I was loth to tear myself away. We returned to the ship, where we prepared the birds for the larder, and hung them, together with the meat, from the mizen boom, the poop at the finish resembling a butcher’s shop. Green, who had been before into the Antarctic and had wintered with me on Elephant Island, came out of his galley to regard with a professional eye this new addition to his larder. I asked him if he had forgotten how to cook seal and penguin meat, to which he replied, “Not likely! If I was to live to be a hundred, I would not forget that.” We weighed anchor and proceeded to Larsen Harbour, which is approached through Drygalski Fiord, a long, narrow channel situated at the extreme south-eastern end of South Georgia. The entrance, which is very picturesque, lies between steep and high mountains. As one nears the end it appears as if one is about to charge a steep wall of snow-covered rock, but suddenly the little opening of Larsen Harbour comes into view, and one enters a wonderful little basin shut in on all sides by steeply rising mountains and offering a secure anchorage for small vessels. Across the entrance lies a ledge of rocks from which grows a belt of kelp, where the soundings gave a depth of 38 fathoms. Douglas went ashore in his kayak to make a geological examination of the place and bring away some specimens of rock.