d into a wide rift. Hunter trailed the tow-net
for surface plankton while the ship was going at half-speed.

At ten o'clock the ship had come up with the land, and her course was
turned sharply to the north-west towards a flotilla of bergs lying to
the east of the Way Archipelago, which we intended to visit.

On December 30, 1913, the 'Aurora' lay within a cordon of floating ice
about one mile distant from the nearest islet of a group scattered along
the coast off Cape Gray.

Immediately after breakfast a party of eight men set off in the launch
to investigate Stillwell Island. The weather was gloriously sunny and
every one was eager at the prospect of fresh discoveries. Cape Hunter
had been the home of the Antarctic petrels, and on this occasion we
were singularly fortunate in finding a resort of the Southern Fulmar
or silver-grey petrels. During the previous summer, two of the eastern
sledging parties had for the first time observed the breeding habits of
these birds among isolated rocks outcropping on the edge of the coast.
But here there was a stronghold of hundreds of petrels, sitting with
their eggs in niches among the boulders or ensconced in bowers excavated
beneath the snow which lay deep over some parts of the island.

The rock was a gneiss which varied in character from that which had been
examined at Cape Denison and in other localities. All the scientific
treasures were exhausted by midday, and the whale-boat was well laden
when we rowed back to the ship.

Throughout a warm summer afternoon the 'Aurora' threaded her way between
majestic bergs and steamed west across the wide span of Commonwealth
Bay, some fifteen miles off the land. At eleven o'clock the sky was
perfectly clear and the sun hung like a luminous ball over the southern
plateau. The rocks near the Hut were just visible. Close to the
"Pianoforte Berg" and the Mackellar Islets tall jets of fine spray were
seen to shoot upward from schools of finner whales. All around us and
for miles shoreward, the ocean was calm and blue; but close to the
mainland there was a dark curving line of ruffled water, while through
glasses one could see trails of serpentine drift flowing down the slopes
of the glacier. Doubtless, it was blowing at the Hut; and the thought
was enough to make us thankful that we were on our good ship leaving
Adelie Land for ever.

On the morning of December 31, 1913, Cape Alden was abeam, and a strong
wind swept down from the highl