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I have forgotten to mention the spirit of loyal determination of all aboard. There was enough to equip a whole armada of Dreadnoughts. What did cramped space and minor discomfort matter? We were going South with Shackleton, and that was enough for us. Everyone possessed good temper and the determination to rough it without outcry—about the most desirable qualifications for a crew on such a voyage.

Throughout the easy run to Plymouth there was nothing to disturb us; voyaging under these fine-weather conditions was glorious. We were all in high heart, adapting ourselves rapidly to the existing conditions; and the time flowed by with that curious smoothness so noticeable at sea.

By half-past nine on the morning of Wednesday, September 23, we sighted Plymouth and passed up through an almost empty Sound. Here the Quest was welcomed by the mayor and other notables, including Captain Gordon Campbell, V.C., the man who made himself such a terror to German submarines during the war. There were speeches—stirring speeches that exalted the courage and, so far as I was concerned, made me feel even more heroic than before, so that once again I thanked my lucky stars for the good fortune that had fallen my way.