“I am mildly superstitious of numbers, for this day had well nigh made an end to us all. During the morning the three boats were running under sail with a fair SE wind which developed into a half gale by noon, with a treacherous cross sea. The heavily laden boats were driven before it and were forced into the open sea… Throughout the night the boats were continually shipping seas, which broke over and froze on to them. The ice had to be chipped away hourly. The Wills being in an especially bad way, ice forming on her fo’c’sle head and keeping her down at the bows… All were in sort need of water. Our wet condition, the agonizing cold and the need of sleep, made life well nigh unbearable; furthermore, we were without any definite bearings as to our position. Never was dawn more anxiously awaited, never did night seem so long. Never do I wish to endure such a night. Sir E. and self snuggling together for warmth.”

— Frank Hurley