February 23rd was a dull grey day. We hoisted the squaresail at daybreak and continued to run off before a strong easterly wind. With sails set there was great difficulty in getting the wardroom stove to burn, for both topsail and squaresail created a powerful and baffling down draught for which we designed and made all sorts and shapes of cowls, but without much success. The wardroom became filled with dense acrid smoke, and the fire was generally allowed to go out when the temperature fell so much that no one could use it to sit about, and those taking their watch below were driven to their bunks. Wilkins and Douglas in the forecastle had the same difficulty. Wilkins, ever resourceful, built a cowl, but it fouled the sheet of the forestay sail and was swept away. Nothing daunted, he built another, which met the same fate. With exemplary patience he built a new one each time the other was lost! We did our best to protect the cowls when setting or taking in sail, but in heavy winds, when the squaresail was let go at the run, it was almost impossible to do so. Since the evening of the 21st we had made in a west to west-south-westerly direction, but, seeing what appeared to be open seas with sky to the horizon a deep black, I now turned south again. Within an hour, however, we met with small pieces of ice, which became more numerous as we proceeded. We then entered an area of sea full of small round pieces, like snowballs, covered with a fine powdery ice. Snow settling on this area gave it the appearance of a “sea of milk.” The swell continued, but the surface was like oil, unbroken by a single ripple. We passed from this into a belt where the surface was just beginning to freeze, forming the thinnest possible film of ice. The snow on this gave the impression of a grey sea. Visibility, owing to the snow which fell quietly and continuously, was poor. The whole outlook gave a curious impression of greyness, grey sea, grey sky, and everything grey wherever one looked. As we progressed still farther the filmy surface was replaced by definite pancake formation. Amongst the pancakes were numerous heavy old lumps, much water-worn at sea level, but heavy underneath with long projecting tongues. The night was cold and snowy and the decks became covered with a very slippery slush on which, with the rolling of the ship, it was not easy to keep a footing. We took in sail, a cold and unpleasant job because all spars, sails and running gear had become coated with a thick covering of ice. Dinner that night was a cold business, and the dullness of the day and general outlook had rather damped our spirits. Macklin writes on this date: