–from Frank Hurley’s account “Shackleton’s Argonauts”–
“A faint scent of attar of roses causes one to turn to ascertain the origin. Ah, yes! It wafts from a group of daintily clad femininity clustered about the gangway. They are deliberating over the “No Admittance” sign. They linger and smile confidently,. The senoritas have evidently made up their minds to look over the Endurance. Not even Frank Wild can resist this gentle zephyr of perfumed appeal. The waft passes, and the smell of boiling pitch comes from the decks. They are pouring the molten stuff inside the newly caulked seams. The decks are strewn with debris, and vulgar for dainty steps and pretty shoes.
“At last the official sailing-time is set.”