The bow of the Wills plunged into almost every sea, so that the men sat kneedeep in water. Ironically, this was almost a comfort, for the water was warmer than the air. Blackboro’s feet were long since beyond the point of hurting. He never complained, though he knew that it was only a matter of time until gangrene set in. Even if he lived, it seemed unlikely that this youngster who had stowed away a year and a half before would ever walk again. Once during the night, Shackleton called to him in an attempt to raise his spirits. “Blackboro,” he shouted in the darkness. “Here, sir,” Blackboro
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Blackboro, the young
