–from Frank Hurley’s account “Shackleton’s Argonauts”–
“Gently our bows part the waters, churning them into white foam, which, lapping against our sides, makes pleasant whisperings. We clear the mouth of the great Rio de la Plata and head south. The wind being fair, the order is given to make sail The sails are shaken out, and to the words of the old sea-chanty “Sally Brown, I love you daughter,” we haul on the halyards with a will. Soon, under a full press of canvas, the Endurance is bounding south over the deep blue hills of the South Atlantic Ocean.
“As the wind begins to freshen, all hands turned to, to lash and stow the deck cargo securely. Tom Crean and I were helping the sailors, when I noticed a boot partly obscured by some boxes and barrels. Fearing that someone had been crushed beneath the cargo, I called Crean, and together we began to investigate. To our surprise, the boot began to more. Crean grabbed it and began to pull hard. Another boot came into sight. Then we heard a muffled voice saying, “Hold on, don’t pull, I’ll wriggle out.” The boots backed out, a body wriggled next, and then a head. It was a young stowaway. We helped him out, and then, to our astonishment, another stowaway followed. It was his pal—a black cat.
“Looking down from the bridge, keenly interested in what was going on, was Sir Ernest Shackleton”