I was wakened at 4.0 on the following morning by McLeod, who shouted in at my door, “One bell and the ship’s afire!” In a moment I was out of bed and on deck, to find dense smoke and flame ascending from what appeared to be the engine-room skylight. Rushing to the engine-room door, I was met by Smith, who said that everything was all right below. The flames were leaping up alongside the funnel. I went up on to the bridge and shouted to the other members of my watch who had turned out to get Pyrene extinguishers, of which we kept a number always on hand. We squirted their contents vigorously into the midst of the flames, and soon had them subdued, when I discovered that the cause of the trouble lay in some cork fenders and coils of tarry rope which had been placed against the funnel on the previous day. The flames had spread to two large wooden sidelight boards and to some canvas gear. Our portable hand-sounding machine was also involved, and was, unfortunately, rendered almost useless. The fire, while it lasted, was a brisk one, and had we been compelled to rely on the old hose system for its extinction there is no doubt that it would have proved serious. The rapidity with which we were able to control it speaks much for the efficacy of the extinguishers in use, which were of the carbon-dioxide producing type. Having leapt straight from our bunks, we were exceedingly lightly clothed, and, now that the excitement was over, we noticed the cold atmosphere and scampered off to garb ourselves more warmly. We continued vigorously pushing north all day. Numerous crab-eater seals were seen, many of them on our direct route; but although I was anxious to lay in a store of their blubber I did not stop. We saw also a number of emperor penguins. Bird life, as I have said, had been very scarce, and represented only by snow petrels, a number of which, outlined in silvery whiteness against the blue of the sky as they passed overhead on their way south, presented a very beautiful picture.