Hors d'oeuvre
Biscuit de plasmon Ration du lard glace

Entree
Monsieur l'Empereur Pingouin fricasse

Piece de Resistance
Pemmican naturel a l'Antarctique

Dessert
Hotch-potch de pommes et de raisins
Chocolat au sucre glaxone
Liqueur bien ancienne de l'Ecosse

Cigarettes Tabac

The hors d'oeuvre of bacon ration was a welcome surprise. McLean had
carried the tin unknown to us up till this moment. The penguin, fried
in lumps of fat taken from the pemmican, and a little butter, was
delicious. In the same pot the hoosh was boiled and for once we noted
an added piquancy. Next followed the plum-pudding--dense mixture of
powdered biscuit, glaxo, sugar, raisins and apple-rings, surpassing the
finest, flaming, holly-decked, Christmas creation.

Then came the toasts. McLean produced the whisky from the medical kit
and served it out, much diluted, in three mugs. There was not three
ounces in all, but it flavoured the water.

I was asked to call "The King." McLean proposed "The Other Sledgers" in
a noble speech, wishing them every success; and then there were a
few drops left to drink to "Ourselves," whom Correll eulogized to our
complete satisfaction. We then drew on the meagre supply of cigarettes
and lay on our bags, feeling as comfortable as the daintiest epicure
after a twelve-course dinner, drinking his coffee and smoking his cigar.

We talked till twelve o'clock, and then went outside to look at the
midnight sun, shining brightly just above the southern horizon. Turning
in, we were once more at home in our dreams.

By a latitude shot at noon on Boxing Day, I found that our position
was not as far north as expected. The following wind had been probably
slightly east of south-east and too much westing had been made. From
a tangle of broken ridges whose surface was often granular,
half-consolidated ice, the end of the day opened up a lilac plain of
sea-ice ahead. We were once more on the western side of Ninnis Glacier
and the familiar coast of Penguin Point, partly hidden by an iceberg,
sprang into view. The depot hill to the north-west could be recognized,
twenty miles away, across a wide bay. By hooch-time we had found a
secure path to the sea-ice, one hundred and eighty feet below.

The wind sprang up opportunely on the morning of t