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To-day Captain Worsley, the sailing master, gave me the job of lamp-trimmer, and in pursuit of my duties I went forward to find some oil, since even Antarctic lamps won’t burn without fuel. I had just unlashed a drum and was in the act of opening it, when Sir Ernest Shackleton, who was near by, gave me a needed lesson in common-sense sailorizing.

“Don’t try to do too many things on your own until you’ve got the hang of them,” he said. “If any accident happened and that drum fetched away, the boatswain would be blamed, because safe stowage is his job. When you mix in with another man’s job, always remember that he might have to take blame that’s rightly due to you.” Consequently I lashed the drum up again; and the Boss, watching closely with those eyes that always seemed to see everything down to the last little detail, said: “I see you’ve made it good and fast; but you’ve put on a slippery hitch. Here’s the right way, and it’s the right way that counts at sea.” Then he explained carefully how the thing should be done, and afterwards gave me a lesson in whipping frayed rope-ends. With all the weight of responsibility he carried on his shoulders, and all his worries—for he had many—he still found time to interest himself in an obscure Scout. But he was like that; I think that was one of the qualities that made him great. The ship was already proving something of a disappointment to him. Her speed was far short of what was expected, and there seemed a probability of our reaching the ice too late; but he still had time and consideration enough to teach me my job personally.