Imagine leading through this...
Frank Hurley's Journal, October 17, 1919
The ice seems intent on disturbing our Sunday evening gramophone concerts, for it invariably sets up a whining and "gets busy" as we are in the midst of musical enjoyment. Punctual to 6 p.m., we hear the dread whining and groaning followed almost immediately by the vessel vibrating and shivering as though she were trembling with fear at the coming conflict. It is a cracky, uneven conflict, receiving all blows and unable to give retaliation. Together came those irresistible vice like floes, nipping the ship in their terrific grip.
She creaks, groans, and shivers in agony, but tighter and relentless is the grip and, when we expect to see her sides stave in, she slowly and gradually rises from the pressure. At this critical junction, the pressure fortunately ceased, as suddenly as the stopping of some gigantic mechanism. Our stern has been forced 3 feet four inches out of ice, and subsequently the pressure rebated and we gradually assumed our normal position.
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