All through the expedition the want of some one
who could play the piano was felt, and such a man is certainly a great
asset in a life so far removed from all the pleasures of civilization.
As Scott wrote in The Voyage of the Discovery, where one of the officers
used to play each evening: "This hour of music has become an institution
which none of us would willingly forgo. I don't know what thoughts it
brings to others, though I can readily guess; but of such things one does
not care to write. I can well believe, however, that our music smooths
over many a ruffle and brings us to dinner each night in that excellent
humour, where all seem good-tempered, though 'cleared for action' and
ready for fresh argument."
The wind freshened to our joy; Scott was impatient; there was much to be
done and the time for doing it was not too long, for it had been decided
to leave New Zealand at an earlier date than had been attempted by any
previous expedition, in order to penetrate the pack sooner and make an
early start on the depot journey. The faintest glow of the Aurora
Australis which was to become so familiar to us was seen at this time,
but what aroused still more interest was the capture of several albatross
on the lines flowing out over the stern.
The first was a 'sooty' (cornicoides). We put him down on the deck, where
he strutted about in the proudest way, his feet going flop--flop--flop as
he walked.
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