finitely turned, describing a
longer arc when skimming the distant fleets of bergs along the northern
horizon. Thus on June 28 the refracted image of the sun rose into
visibility about eleven o'clock, heralded by a vivid green sky and
damask cloud and by one o'clock had disappeared.

On the same day every one was abroad, advancing the wireless masts
another stage and digging ice-shafts. Stillwell commenced a contoured
plane-table survey of the neighbourhood of Winter Quarters. He continued
this with many breaks during the next few months and eventually
completed an accurate and valuable map, undeterred by the usual series
of frost-bites.

There was much anticipated of July, but the wind soughed on and the
temperature decreased. Just to demonstrate its resource, the wind
maintained ninety-seven miles per hour for six hours on July 19, while
the puff-anemometer indicated several "breaks" of one hundred and fifty
miles per hour.

July 21 was cold, calm and clear. For the first time after many weeks
the sun was mildly warm, and all felt with a spring of optimism that
a new era had begun. The sea which had been kept open by the wind was
immediately overspread with thin, dark ice, which in a few hours was
dotted with many ice-flowers aggregates of fern-like, sprouting fronds
similar to small bouquets or rosettes. Soon the surface had whitened and
thickened and by next morning was firm enough to hold a man out beyond
the nearest island. The wind did not allow this state of affairs to last
for long, for by lunch-time it had hurried away the wide floes and raged
across a foaming sea.

We still considered the question of sledging, and I decided that if
there were the slightest prospect of accomplishing anything, several
of us would start before the end of July on a short journey. The month,
however, closed with nothing to commend it. The night-watchman for July
29 says:

"The moon was wonderfully bright to-night, encircled by a complete halo.
It appeared to hang suspended like a silver globe in the dark blue sky.
The stars flash and sparkle and seem much nearer here than in Australia.
At midnight the wind blew at ninety miles per hour, so that it was no
easy job getting to the screen in slippery finnesko. Away in the north
there was a dense cloud of spray and sea-smoke, and the wind screamed
past the Hut. The 'St. Elmoscope' was buzzing merrily in the roof all
the time."

Ninnis and Mertz with a team of dogs managed, on t