In lat. 65° 7´ S. and 15° 21´ E. long, we entered, on February 4th, what appeared to be the edge of very open pack, which lay in several strips and bands of light, loosely packed ice, with large open spaces of water between. I made my course due south and pushed into it. For some time I had doubts as to whether it was the real pack or streamers carried north by the late south-easterly gale. The sky to the south was very indefinite, and from the crow’s nest the same conditions of loose ice and open water extended as far as the eye could reach. The two “signs” which one looks for in the sky are “ice-blink” and “water sky.” A sky with ice-blink presents near the horizon a hard white appearance which indicates the proximity of close pack, ice barrier, or snow-covered land. A “water sky” is a dark patch in a lighter sky, which indicates open water below the horizon. In each case when these skies are well marked they are definitely of value, but it requires much experience to gauge accurately the meaning of some of the more indefinite appearances, and conclusions too hastily drawn often prove erroneous. Whilst we were at sea I had watched the petrels which followed in our wake attempting to come to rest on the water, but breaking seas always drove them up again. I was interested to note that as soon as we reached the pack they flew forward and came to rest on a piece of ice, where they preened their feathers and settled down on their breasts. The ice had a wonderfully settling effect upon the sea, deadening all but the heavier swells. The _Quest_ became more comfortable than she had been for a long time, and at lunch we dispensed with the fiddles. This she would not tolerate, and a sudden roll swept everything to the floor. Later in the day the belts of ice became broader and the pools of water much smaller. There could be no doubt that this was the real pack ice and that the most strenuous part of our work was now to begin. Quoting from a diary: Now the little _Quest_ can really try her mettle. What is in store for us? Will the pack, as variable in its moods as the open sea, prove friendly or will it rise in its wrath to punish man’s temerity in thus bringing to the attack so small a craft? Before this effort the smallest ship to make a serious attempt to penetrate the heavy Antarctic pack was the _Endurance_, and she lies crushed and broken many fathoms deep in the Weddell Sea. We are but half her size! Shall we escape, or will the _Quest_ go to join the ships in Davy Jones’s Locker, and the queer deep-sea fish nose about amongst her broken spars? We are not in the least pessimistic, but the man who blinds himself to the possibility is a fool.