My sense of responsibility was growing daily, for though I always welcomed the suggestions of my senior officers I realized that on me alone must devolve the final decision in every plan and in every movement. This was my fifth expedition—nearly half my life has been spent in Antarctic exploration—and every accumulated year of experience has taught me more and more how much in this work we are the playthings of chance. Experience counts a great deal, of course, but no amount of experience, care or skill can be of much avail against prolonged and overwhelming pressure. Yet in those first days in the ice, as I stood on the bridge and looked down on the decks I saw amongst my men nothing but elation. Carr, Douglas and others who saw the ice for the first time were fascinated by it, and amongst the old hands there was obvious pleasure at again meeting the pack. Old McLeod, veteran of many expeditions, said to McIlroy: “Here we are home again! Doesn’t it do you good to get back!” Even Query was affected with the general air of uplift, and with paws on gunwale gazed with twitching nostrils at this new phenomenon. Nor could I long resist a similar feeling, for as I gazed south over the ice, with the cold, keen air in my nostrils, I, too, felt pleased and elated, glad of a tough problem to tackle and rejoicing in the long odds. [Illustration: THE LONELINESS OF THE PACK Note the Emperor Penguin on the floe _Photo: Wilkins_] [Illustration: AN UNPLEASANT BUT NECESSARY DUTY—TAKING CRAB-EATER SEALS FOR FOOD _Photo: Wilkins_]