The Min­istry of Time con­tin­ues its nar­ra­tive with Gore board­ing the ship, greet­ed by the dis­tant and muf­fled fig­ures of the watch, all set against the eerie tilt caused by the sur­round­ing sea ice. As Gore moves below deck, the warmth from the crowd­ed crew stands in stark con­trast to the harsh cold he just endured. Despite his own phys­i­cal exhaus­tion and men­tal fog, Gore learns from Stan­ley, the ship’s sur­geon, that the date is July 24, 1847. The cold’s toll on him is evi­dent as his delayed response to this rev­e­la­tion under­scores the over­whelm­ing con­di­tions. Yet, despite his weari­ness, he insists on attend­ing the emer­gency com­mand meet­ing, dri­ven by a sense of duty and the need to con­tribute to the unfold­ing cri­sis. His deter­mi­na­tion to remain engaged high­lights his com­mit­ment, even in the face of dete­ri­o­rat­ing health.

The emer­gency meet­ing is con­vened in the Great Cab­in of the Ere­bus, where the atmos­phere is suf­fused with the weight of recent tragedy. Sir John Franklin’s death has cast a pall over the crew, and the cab­in itself seems to mourn the loss. As Cap­tain Fitz­james steps up to lead, Lieu­tenant Irv­ing deliv­ers grim news about the dire state of their pro­vi­sions. The rations aboard the ship have become per­ilous­ly low, and some of the tinned sup­plies are not even edi­ble, hav­ing been com­pro­mised before the ship even depart­ed. The crew’s sit­u­a­tion grows increas­ing­ly dire, as they find them­selves bat­tling not just the ice but also the effects of their dwin­dling sup­plies. The frag­ile nature of their sur­vival is laid bare as the real­i­ty of their sit­u­a­tion sets in, with the ship’s crew now fac­ing the con­se­quences of Franklin’s ill-fat­ed expe­di­tion and the unfor­giv­ing con­di­tions of the Arc­tic.

The meet­ing con­tin­ues with Fairholme, the third lieu­tenant, attempt­ing to frame their predica­ment in reli­gious terms, but Gore urges a more direct and prag­mat­ic approach. This shift in tone reflects the grow­ing urgency of their cir­cum­stances, as the crew can no longer afford to waste time with abstract thoughts. Fitz­james steps in to clar­i­fy the issue with the rations, acknowl­edg­ing the sever­i­ty of their dwin­dling sup­plies, and then turns to assess the crew’s hunt­ing efforts. Gore reports a mea­ger catch of three par­tridges and a dis­tant gull, which only high­lights the harsh real­i­ty they are fac­ing. Even the small­est vic­to­ries in terms of food are no longer enough to sus­tain the men, empha­siz­ing the futil­i­ty of their efforts in a land­scape that refus­es to yield to their needs. The rations are dwin­dling at a rate too fast to counter, leav­ing them in a race against time as they strug­gle to stay alive.

As the crew assess­es the remain­ing pro­vi­sions, Fitz­james makes the hard deci­sion to reduce the rations to two-thirds, under­stand­ing that this will extend their sur­vival but at a sig­nif­i­cant cost. Stan­ley, the ship’s doc­tor, voic­es his con­cerns about the toll this will take on the sick men, warn­ing that weak­en­ing them fur­ther could be dis­as­trous. How­ev­er, Fitz­james insists that this com­pro­mise is the only option to ensure the max­i­mum num­ber of men sur­vive long enough to even­tu­al­ly make it back home. The ten­sion between main­tain­ing strength for the jour­ney and pre­serv­ing life in the present moment reflects the dire straits they are in. The men must bal­ance short-term suf­fer­ing with the hope of even­tu­al res­cue, know­ing that any mis­step could be fatal. Gore, like the rest of the crew, is left to con­tem­plate the future, won­der­ing how much longer they can sur­vive with­out break­ing.

The chap­ter con­cludes with Gore reflect­ing on the impli­ca­tions of their sit­u­a­tion, espe­cial­ly the crit­i­cal ques­tion that hangs over them: what if the ice nev­er breaks? Out­side, the shift­ing ice seems to mock their uncer­tain­ty, as the creak­ing and crack­ing of the hull sig­nal the ever-present dan­ger that sur­rounds them. The threat of entrap­ment is under­scored by the sound of the ice shift­ing omi­nous­ly, as if the nat­ur­al world itself is con­spir­ing against their sur­vival. In the midst of this ten­sion, Gore also reflects on the loss of the ship’s cat, which, like so many oth­er casu­al­ties, suc­cumbed to the bru­tal con­di­tions. This small death adds to the grow­ing sense of despair that per­me­ates the ship, rein­forc­ing the fragili­ty of life in such a harsh envi­ron­ment. The crew’s strug­gle for sur­vival is not just a bat­tle against the ele­ments, but against their own dwin­dling hope, as the relent­less Arc­tic land­scape press­es in on them from all sides.