nd more marked by the stress of pressure.

Our time was now limited and it seemed to me that there was little
chance of reaching open water by forcing a passage either to the east or
north. We therefore turned on our tracks and broke south-west back into
the Davis Sea, intending to steam westward to the spot where we had so
easily entered two weeks previously.

On February 4 the pack to the north was beginning to thin out and to
look navigable. Several short-cuts were taken across projecting "capes,"
and then on February 5 the 'Aurora' entered a zone of bergs and broken
floe. No one slept well during that night as the ship bumped and ground
into the ice which crashed and grated along her stout sides. Davis was
on watch for long hours, directing in the crow's nest or down on the
bridge, and throughout the next day we pushed on northwards towards the
goal which now meant so much to us--Australia--Home!

At four o'clock the sun was glittering on the great ocean outside the
pack-ice. Many of us climbed up in the rigging to see the fair sight--a
prevision of blue skies and the calm delights of a land of eternal
summer. Our work was finished, and the good ship was rising at last to
the long swell of the southern seas.

On February 12, in latitude 55 degrees S, a strong south-wester drove
behind, and, with all sails set, the 'Aurora' made eight knots an hour.
The last iceberg was seen far away on the eastern horizon. Albatrosses
followed in our wake, accompanied by their smaller satellites--Cape
hens, priors, Lesson's and Wilson petrels.

Before leaving the ice, Sandell and Bickerton had fixed an aerial
between the fore and mizen masts, while the former installed a wireless
receiving-apparatus within the narrow limits of his cabin. There was
no space on the ship to set up the motor-engine, dynamos and other
instruments necessary for transmitting messages over a long distance.

As the nights began to darken, Sandell listened eagerly for distant
signals, until on February 16, in latitude 47 degrees S, the "calls"
of three ships in the vicinity of the Great Australian Bight were
recognized. After this date news was picked up every night, and all the
items were posted on a morning bulletin pinned up in the ward-room.

The first real touch of civilization came unexpectedly early on the
morning of February 21. A full-rigged ship on the southern horizon! It
might have been an iceberg, the sails flashed so white in the morning