"THE WORST JOURNEY\n\nIN THE WORLD\n\nANTARCTIC\n\n1910-1913\n\nBY\n\nAPSLEY CHERRY-GARRARD\n\nWITH PANORAMAS, MAPS, AND ILLUSTRATIONS BY THE LATE\n\nDOCTOR EDWARD A. WILSON AND OTHER MEMBERS OF THE EXPEDITION\n\nIN TWO VOLUMES\n\n\nVOLUME ONE\n\nCONSTABLE AND COMPANY LIMITED\n\nLONDON BOMBAY SYDNEY\n\n_First published 1922_\n\nPRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN\n\n\nThis volume is a narrative of Scott's Last Expedition from its departure\nfrom England in 1910 to its return to New Zealand in 1913.\n\nIt does not, however, include the story of subsidiary parties except\nwhere their adventures touch the history of the Main Party.\n\nIt is hoped later to publish an appendix volume with an account of the\ntwo Geological Journeys, and such other information concerning the\nequipment of, and lessons learned by, this Expedition as may be of use to\nthe future explorer.\n\nAPSLEY CHERRY-GARRARD.\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nThis post-war business is inartistic, for it is seldom that any one does\nanything well for the sake of doing it well; and it is un-Christian, if\nyou value Christianity, for men are out to hurt and not to help--can you\nwonder, when the Ten Commandments were hurled straight from the pulpit\nthrough good stained glass. It is all very interesting and uncomfortable,\nand it has been a great relief to wander back in one's thoughts and\ncorrespondence and personal dealings to an age in geological time, so\nmany hundred years ago, when we were artistic Christians, doing our jobs\nas well as we were able just because we wished to do them well, helping\none another with all our strength, and (I speak with personal humility)\nliving a life of co-operation, in the face of hardships and dangers,\nwhich has seldom been surpassed.\n\nThe mutual conquest of difficulties is the cement of friendship, as it is\nthe only lasting cement of matrimony. We had plenty of difficulties; we\nsometimes failed, we sometimes won; we always faced them--we had to.\nConsequently we have some friends who are better than all the wives in\nMahomet's paradise, and when I have asked for help in the making of this\nbook I have never never asked in vain. Talk of ex-soldiers: give me\nex-antarcticists, unsoured and with their ideals intact: they could sweep\nthe world.\n\nThe trouble is that they are inclined to lose their ideals in this\ncomplicated atmosphere of civilization. They run one another down like\nthe deuce, and it is quite time that stopped. What is the use of A\nrunning down Scott because he served with Shackleton, or B going for\nAmundsen because he served with Scott? They have all done good work;\nwithin their limits, the best work to date. There are jobs for which, if\nI had to do them, I would like to serve under Scott, Amundsen, Shackleton\nand Wilson--each to his part. For a joint scientific and geographical\npiece of organization, give me Scott; for a Winter Journey, Wilson; for a\ndash to the Pole and nothing else, Amundsen: and if I am in the devil of\na hole and want to get out of it, give me Shackleton every time. They\nwill all go down in polar history as leaders, these men. I believe Bowers\nwould also have made a great name for himself if he had lived, and few\npolar ships have been commanded as capably as was the Terra Nova, by\nPennell.\n\nIn a way this book is a sequel to the friendship which there was between\nWilson, Bowers and myself, which, having stood the strain of the Winter\nJourney, could never have been broken. Between the three of us we had a\nshare in all the big journeys and bad times which came to Scott's main\nlanding party, and what follows is, particularly, our unpublished\ndiaries, letters and illustrations. I, we, have tried to show how good\nthe whole thing was--and how bad. I have had a freer hand than many in\nthis, because much of the dull routine has been recorded already and can\nbe found if wanted: also because, not being the leader of the expedition,\nI had no duty to fulfil in cataloguing my followers' achievements. But\nthere was plenty of work left for me. It has been no mere gleaning of the\npolar field. Not half the story had been told, nor even all the most\ninteresting documents. Among these, I have had from Mrs. Bowers her son's\nletters home, and from Lashly his diary of the Last Return Party on the\nPolar Journey. Mrs. Wilson has given her husband's diary of the Polar\nJourney: this is especially valuable because it is the only detailed\naccount in existence from 87° 32´ to the Pole and after, with the\nexception of Scott's Diary already published. Lady Scott has given with\nboth hands any records I wanted and could find. No one of my companions\nin the South has failed to help. They include Atkinson, Wright,\nPriestley, Simpson, Lillie and Debenham.\n\nTo all these good friends I can do no more than express my very sincere\nthanks.\n\nI determined that the first object of the illustrations should be\ndescriptive of the text: Wright and Debenham have photographs, sledging\nand otherwise, which do this admirably. Mrs. Wilson has allowed me to\nhave any of her husband's sketches and drawings reproduced that I wished,\nand there are many hundreds from which to make a selection. In addition\nto the six water-colours, which I have chosen for their beauty, I have\ntaken a number of sketches because they illustrate typical incidents in\nour lives. They are just unfinished sketches, no more: and had Bill been\nalive he would have finished them before he allowed them to be published.\nThen I have had reproduced nearly all the sketches and panoramas drawn by\nhim on the Polar Journey and found with him where he died. The half-tone\nprocess does not do them justice: I wish I could have had them reproduced\nin photogravure, but the cost is prohibitive.\n\nAs to production, after a good deal of experience, I was convinced that I\ncould trust a commercial firm to do its worst save when it gave them less\ntrouble to do better. I acknowledge my mistake. In a wilderness of firms\nin whom nothing was first class except their names and their prices, I\nhave dealt with R. & R. Clark, who have printed this book, and Emery\nWalker, who has illustrated it. The fact that Emery Walker is not only\nalive, but full of vitality, indicates why most of the other firms are\nmillionaires.\n\nWhen I went South I never meant to write a book: I rather despised those\nwho did so as being of an inferior brand to those who did things and said\nnothing about them. But that they say nothing is too often due to the\nfact that they have nothing to say, or are too idle or too busy to learn\nhow to say it. Every one who has been through such an extraordinary\nexperience has much to say, and ought to say it if he has any faculty\nthat way. There is after the event a good deal of criticism, of\nstock-taking, of checking of supplies and distances and so forth that\ncannot really be done without first-hand experience. Out there we knew\nwhat was happening to us too well; but we did not and could not measure\nits full significance. When I was asked to write a book by the Antarctic\nCommittee I discovered that, without knowing it, I had intended to write\none ever since I had realized my own experiences. Once started, I enjoyed\nthe process. My own writing is my own despair, but it is better than it\nwas, and this is directly due to Mr. and Mrs. Bernard Shaw. At the age of\nthirty-five I am delighted to acknowledge that my education has at last\nbegun.\n\nAPSLEY CHERRY-GARRARD.\n\nLamer, Wheathampstead,\n\n1921.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n PAGE\n INTRODUCTION xvii\nCHAPTER I FROM ENGLAND TO SOUTH AFRICA 1\nCHAPTER II MAKING OUR EASTING DOWN 24\nCHAPTER III SOUTHWARD 48\nCHAPTER IV LAND 79\nCHAPTER V THE DEPÔT JOURNEY 104\nCHAPTER VI THE FIRST WINTER 178\nCHAPTER VII THE WINTER JOURNEY 230\n\n\n\n\nILLUSTRATIONS\n\nMcMurdo Sound from Arrival Heights in Autumn. The sun\n is sinking below the Western Mountains. _Frontispiece_\n _From a water-colour drawing by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._\n\n FACING PAGE\n\nThe Last of the Dogs. Scott's Southern Journey 1903. xxxvi\n _From a sketch by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._\n\nThe Rookery of Emperor Penguins under the Cliffs of the\n Great Ice Barrier: looking east from Cape Crozier. xlii\n _From a sketch by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._\n\nRaymond Priestley and Victor Campbell. liv\n _From a photograph by F. Debenham._\n\nSunrise behind South Trinidad Island. July 26, 1910. 12\n _From a water-colour drawing by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._\n\nThe Roaring Forties. 32\n _From a water-colour drawing by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._\n\nPack-ice in the Ross Sea. Midnight, January 1911. 62\n _From a water-colour drawing by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._\n\nA Sea Leopard. 66\n\nA Weddell Seal. 66\n _From a photograph by F. Debenham._\n\nThe Terra Nova in the pack. Men watering Ship. 74\n _From a photograph by F. Debenham._\n\nTaking a Sounding. 84\n _From a sketch by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._\n\nKrisravitza. 84\n _From a photograph by F. Debenham._\n\nMount Erebus showing Steam Cloud, the Ramp, and the\n Hut at Cape Evans. 96\n _From a photograph by F. Debenham._\n\nDog-skin outer Mitts showing lampwick Lashings for slinging\n over the Shoulders. 114\n\nSledging Spoon, Pannikin and Cup, which pack into the inner\n Cooker. 114\n _From sketches by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._\n\nHut Point from the bottom of Observation Hill, showing the\n Bay in which the Discovery lay, the Discovery Hut,\n Vince's Cross, the frozen sea and the Western Mountains. 158\n _From a photograph by F. Debenham._\n\nSeals. 162\n\nFrom the Sea. 162\n _From sketches by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._\n\nWinter Quarters at Cape Evans. Notice the Whale-back clouds\n on Erebus, the débris cones on the Ramp, and the anemometer\n pipes which had to be cleared during blizzard by way\n of the ladder at the end of the Hut. 172\n _From a photograph by F. Debenham._\n\nA Cornice of Snow formed upon a Cliff by wind and drift. 176\n _From a photograph by F. Debenham._\n\nPLATE I. A panoramic view over Cape Evans, and McMurdo\n Sound from the Ramp. 184\n _From photographs by F. Debenham._\n\nThe sea's fringe of Ice growing outwards from the Land. 198\n _From a photograph by F. Debenham._\n\nLeading Ponies on the Barrier. November 20, 1911. 206\n _From a sketch for a water-colour drawing by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._\n\nFrozen sea and cliffs of Ice: the snout of the Barne Glacier in\n North Bay. 212\n _From a photograph by C. S. Wright._\n\nErebus and Land's End from the Sea-ice. 224\n _From a photograph by C. S. Wright._\n\nErebus from Great Razorback Island. 224\n _From a photograph by F. Debenham._\n\nTwo Emperor Penguins. 234\n _From a photograph by C. S. Wright._\n\nPLATE II. A panoramic view of Ross Island from Crater Hill,\n looking along the Hut Point Peninsula, showing some of\n the topography of the Winter Journey. 236\n _From photographs by F. Debenham._\n\nCamping after Dark. 246\n _From a sketch by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._\n\nCamp work in a Blizzard: passing the cooker into the tent. 256\n _From a sketch by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._\n\nA procession of Emperor Penguins. 264\n _From a photograph by C. S. Wright._\n\nThe Knoll behind the Cliffs of Cape Crozier. 264\n _From a photograph by F. Debenham._\n\nThe Barrier pressure at Cape Crozier, with the Knoll. Part of\n the bay in which the Emperor Penguins lay their eggs is\n visible. 266\n _From a photograph by C. S. Wright._\n\nThe Emperor Penguins nursing their Chicks on the Sea-ice,\n with the cliffs of the Barrier behind. 268\n _From a sketch by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._\n\nMount Erebus and detail of Ice-pressure. 280\n _From photographs by C. S. Wright._\n\nDown a Crevasse. 290\n _From a sketch by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._\n\n\nMAPS\n\nFrom New Zealand to the South Pole. lxiv\nHut Point. From a sketch by Dr. Edward A. Wilson. 128\nCape Evans and McMurdo Sound. 194\nThe Winter Journey. 294\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\nPolar exploration is at once the cleanest and most isolated way of having\na bad time which has been devised. It is the only form of adventure in\nwhich you put on your clothes at Michaelmas and keep them on until\nChristmas, and, save for a layer of the natural grease of the body, find\nthem as clean as though they were new. It is more lonely than London,\nmore secluded than any monastery, and the post comes but once a year. As\nmen will compare the hardships of France, Palestine, or Mesopotamia, so\nit would be interesting to contrast the rival claims of the Antarctic as\na medium of discomfort. A member of Campbell's party tells me that the\ntrenches at Ypres were a comparative picnic. But until somebody can\nevolve a standard of endurance I am unable to see how it can be done.\nTake it all in all, I do not believe anybody on earth has a worse time\nthan an Emperor penguin.\n\nEven now the Antarctic is to the rest of the earth as the Abode of the\nGods was to the ancient Chaldees, a precipitous and mammoth land lying\nfar beyond the seas which encircled man's habitation, and nothing is more\nstriking about the exploration of the Southern Polar regions than its\nabsence, for when King Alfred reigned in England the Vikings were\nnavigating the ice-fields of the North; yet when Wellington fought the\nbattle of Waterloo there was still an undiscovered continent in the\nSouth.\n\nFor those who wish to read an account of the history of Antarctic\nexploration there is an excellent chapter in Scott's Voyage of the\nDiscovery and elsewhere. I do not propose to give any general survey of\nthis kind here, but complaints have been made to me that Scott's Last\nExpedition plunges the general reader into a neighbourhood which he is\nsupposed to know all about, while actually he is lost, having no idea\nwhat the Discovery was, or where Castle Rock or Hut Point stand. For the\nbetter understanding of the references to particular expeditions, to the\nlands discovered by them and the traces left by them, which must occur in\nthis book I give the following brief introduction.\n\nFrom the earliest days of the making of maps of the Southern Hemisphere\nit was supposed that there was a great continent called Terra Australis.\nAs explorers penetrated round the Cape of Good Hope and Cape Horn, and\nfound nothing but stormy oceans beyond, and as, later, they discovered\nAustralia and New Zealand, the belief in this continent weakened, but was\nnot abandoned. During the latter half of the eighteenth century eagerness\nfor scientific knowledge was added to the former striving after\nindividual or State aggrandizement.\n\nCook, Ross and Scott: these are the aristocrats of the South.\n\nIt was the great English navigator James Cook who laid the foundations of\nour knowledge. In 1772 he sailed from Deptford in the Resolution, 462\ntons, and the Adventure, 336 tons, ships which had been built at Whitby\nfor the coal trade. He was, like Nansen, a believer in a varied diet as\none of the preventives of scurvy, and mentions that he had among his\nprovisions \"besides Saur Krout, Portable Broth, Marmalade of Carrots and\nSuspissated juice of Wort and Beer.\" Medals were struck \"to be given to\nthe natives of new discovered countries, and left there as testimonies of\nour being the first discoverers.\"[1] It would be interesting to know\nwhether any exist now.\n\nAfter calling at the Cape of Good Hope Cook started to make his Easting\ndown to New Zealand, purposing to sail as far south as possible in search\nof a southern continent. He sighted his first 'ice island' or iceberg in\nlat. 50° 40´ S., long. 2° 0´ E., on December 10, 1772. The next day he\n\"saw some white birds about the size of pigeons, with blackish bills and\nfeet. I never saw any such before.\"[2] These must have been Snowy Petrel.\nPassing through many bergs, where he notices how the albatross left them\nand penguins appeared, he was brought up by thick pack ice along which he\ncoasted. Under the supposition that this ice was formed in bays and\nrivers Cook was led to believe that land was not far distant.\nIncidentally he remarks that in order to enable his men to support the\ncolder weather he \"caused the sleeves of their jackets (which were so\nshort as to expose their arms) to be lengthened with baize; and had a cap\nmade for each man of the same stuff, together with canvas; which proved\nof great service to them.\"[3]\n\nFor more than a month Cook sailed the Southern Ocean, always among bergs\nand often among pack. The weather was consistently bad and generally\nthick; he mentions that he had only seen the moon once since leaving the\nCape.\n\nIt was on Sunday, January 17, 1773, that the Antarctic Circle was crossed\nfor the first time, in longitude 39° 35´ E. After proceeding to latitude\n67° 15´ S. he was stopped by an immense field of pack. From this point he\nturned back and made his way to New Zealand.\n\nLeaving New Zealand at the end of 1773 without his second ship, the\nAdventure, from which he had been parted, he judged from the great swell\nthat \"there can be no land to the southward, under the meridian of New\nZealand, but what must lie very far to the south.\" In latitude 62° 10´ S.\nhe sighted the first ice island on December 12, and was stopped by thick\npack ice three days later. On the 20th he again crossed the Antarctic\nCircle in longitude 147° 46´ W. and penetrated in this neighbourhood to a\nlatitude of 67° 31´ S. Here he found a drift towards the north-east.\n\nOn January 26, 1774, in longitude 109° 31´ W., he crossed the Antarctic\nCircle for the third time, after meeting no pack and only a few icebergs.\nIn latitude 71° 10´ S. he was finally turned back by an immense field of\npack, and wrote:\n\n\"I will not say it was impossible anywhere to get farther to the south;\nbut the attempting it would have been a dangerous and rash enterprise,\nand what, I believe, no man in my situation would have thought of. It\nwas, indeed, my opinion, as well as the opinion of most on board, that\nthis ice extended quite to the Pole, or perhaps joined to some land, to\nwhich it had been fixed from the earliest time; and that it is here, that\nis to the south of this parallel, where all the ice we find scattered up\nand down to the north is first formed, and afterwards broken off by gales\nof wind, or other causes, and brought to the north by the currents, which\nare always found to set in that direction in the high latitudes. As we\ndrew near this ice some penguins were heard, but none seen; and but few\nother birds, or any other thing that could induce us to think any land\nwas near. And yet I think there must be some to the south beyond this\nice; but if there is it can afford no better retreat for birds, or any\nother animals, than the ice itself, with which it must be wholly covered.\nI, who had ambition not only to go farther than any one had been before,\nbut as far as it was possible for man to go, was not sorry at meeting\nwith this interruption; as it, in some measure, relieved us; at least,\nshortened the dangers and hardships inseparable from the navigation of\nthe Southern Polar regions.\"[4]\n\nAnd so he turned northwards, when, being \"taken ill of the bilious\ncolic,\" a favourite dog belonging to one of the officers (Mr. Forster,\nafter whom Aptenodytes forsteri, the Emperor penguin, is named) \"fell a\nsacrifice to my tender stomach.... Thus I received nourishment and\nstrength, from food which would have made most people in Europe sick: so\ntrue it is that necessity is governed by no law.\"[5]\n\n\"Once and for all the idea of a populous fertile southern continent was\nproved to be a myth, and it was clearly shown that whatever land might\nexist to the South must be a region of desolation hidden beneath a mantle\nof ice and snow. The vast extent of the tempestuous southern seas was\nrevealed, and the limits of the habitable globe were made known.\nIncidentally it may be remarked that Cook was the first to describe the\npeculiarities of the Antarctic icebergs and floe-ice.\"[6]\n\nA Russian expedition under Bellingshausen discovered the first certain\nland in the Antarctic in 1819, and called it Alexander Land, which lies\nnearly due south of Cape Horn.\n\nWhatever may have been the rule in other parts of the world, the flag\nfollowed trade in the southern seas during the first part of the\nnineteenth century. The discovery of large numbers of seals and whales\nattracted many hundreds of ships, and it is to the enlightened\ninstructions of such firms as Messrs. Enderby, and to the pluck and\nenterprise of such commanders as Weddell, Biscoe and Balleny, that we owe\nmuch of our small knowledge of the outline of the Antarctic continent.\n\n\"In the smallest and craziest ships they plunged boldly into stormy\nice-strewn seas; again and again they narrowly missed disaster; their\nvessels were racked and strained and leaked badly, their crews were worn\nout with unceasing toil and decimated with scurvy. Yet in spite of\ninconceivable discomforts they struggled on, and it does not appear that\nany one of them ever turned his course until he was driven to do so by\nhard necessity. One cannot read the simple, unaffected narratives of\nthese voyages without being assured of their veracity, and without being\nstruck by the wonderful pertinacity and courage which they display.\"[7]\n\nThe position in 1840 was that the Antarctic land had been sighted at a\nfew points all round its coasts. On the whole the boundaries which had\nbeen seen lay on or close to the Antarctic Circle, and it appeared\nprobable that the continent, if continent it was, consisted of a great\ncircular mass of land with the South Pole at its centre, and its coasts\nmore or less equidistant from this point.\n\nTwo exceptions only to this had been found. Cook and Bellingshausen had\nindicated a dip towards the Pole south of the Pacific; Weddell a still\nmore pronounced dip to the south of the Atlantic, having sailed to a\nlatitude of 74° 15´ S. in longitude 34° 16´ W.\n\nHad there been a Tetrahedronal Theory in those days, some one might have\nsuggested the probability of a third indentation beneath the Indian\nOcean, probably to be laughed at for his pains. When James Clark Ross\nstarted from England in 1839 there was no particular reason for him to\nsuppose that the Antarctic coast-line in the region of the magnetic Pole,\nwhich he was to try to reach, did not continue to follow the Antarctic\nCircle.\n\nRoss left England in September 1839 under instructions from the\nAdmiralty. He had under his command two of Her Majesty's sailing ships,\nthe Erebus, 370 tons, and the Terror, 340 tons. Arriving in Hobart,\nTasmania, in August 1840, he was met by news of discoveries made during\nthe previous summer by the French Expedition under Dumont D'Urville and\nthe United States Expedition under Charles Wilkes. The former had coasted\nalong Adélie Land, and for sixty miles of ice cliff to the west of it. He\nbrought back an egg now at Drayton which Scott's Discovery Expedition\ndefinitely proved to be that of an Emperor penguin.\n\nAll these discoveries were somewhere about the latitude of the Antarctic\nCircle (66° 32´ S.) and roughly in that part of the world which lies to\nthe south of Australia. Ross, \"impressed with the feeling that England\nhad ever _led_ the way of discovery in the southern as well as in the\nnorthern region, ... resolved at once to avoid all interference with\ntheir discoveries, and selected a much more easterly meridian (170° E.),\non which to penetrate to the southward, and if possible reach the\nmagnetic Pole.\"[8]\n\nThe outlines of the expedition in which an unknown and unexpected sea was\nfound, stretching 500 miles southwards towards the Pole, are well known\nto students of Antarctic history. After passing through the pack he stood\ntowards the supposed position of the magnetic Pole, \"steering as nearly\nsouth by the compass as the wind admitted,\" and on January 11, 1841, in\nlatitude 71° 15´ S., he sighted, the white peaks of Mount Sabine and\nshortly afterwards Cape Adare. Foiled by the presence of land from\ngaining the magnetic Pole, he turned southwards (true) into what is now\ncalled the Ross Sea, and, after spending many days in travelling down\nthis coast-line with the mountains on his right hand, the Ross Sea on his\nleft, he discovered and named the great line of mountains which here for\nsome five hundred miles divides the sea from the Antarctic plateau. On\nJanuary 27, \"with a favourable breeze and very clear weather, we stood to\nthe southward, close to some land which had been in sight since the\npreceding noon, and which we then called the High Island; it proved to be\na mountain twelve thousand four hundred feet of elevation above the level\nof the sea, emitting flame and smoke in great profusion; at first the\nsmoke appeared like snowdrift, but as we drew nearer its true character\nbecame manifest.... I named it Mount Erebus, and an extinct volcano to\nthe eastward, little inferior in height, being by measurement ten\nthousand nine hundred feet high, was called Mount Terror.\" That is the\nfirst we hear of our two old friends, and Ross Island is the land upon\nwhich they stand.\n\n\"As we approached the land under all studding-sails we perceived a low\nwhite line extending from its eastern extreme point as far as the eye\ncould discern to the eastward. It presented an extraordinary appearance,\ngradually increasing in height as we got nearer to it, and proving at\nlength to be a perpendicular cliff of ice, between one hundred and fifty\nand two hundred feet above the level of the sea, perfectly flat and level\nat the top, and without any fissures or promontories on its even seaward\nface.\"[9]\n\nRoss coasted along the Barrier for some 250 miles from Cape Crozier, as\nhe called the eastern extremity of Ross Island, after the commander of\nthe Terror. This point where land, sea and moving Barrier meet will be\nconstantly mentioned in this narrative. Returning, he looked into the\nSound which divides Ross Island from the western mountains. On February\n16 \"Mount Erebus was seen at 2.30 A.M., and, the weather becoming very\nclear, we had a splendid view of the whole line of coast, to all\nappearance connecting it with the main land, which we had not before\nsuspected to be the case.\" The reader will understand that Ross makes a\nmistake here, since Mounts Erebus and Terror are upon an island connected\nto the mainland only by a sheet of ice. He continues: \"A very deep bight\nwas observed to extend far to the south-west from Cape Bird [Bird was the\nsenior lieutenant of the Erebus], in which a line of low land might be\nseen; but its determination was too uncertain to be left unexplored; and\nas the wind blowing feebly from the west prevented our making any way in\nthat direction through the young ice that now covered the surface of the\nocean in every part, as far as we could see from the mast-head, I\ndetermined to steer towards the bight to give it a closer examination,\nand to learn with more certainty its continuity or otherwise. At noon we\nwere in latitude 76° 32´ S., longitude 166° 12´ E., dip 88° 24´ and\nvariation 107° 18´ E.\n\n\"During the afternoon we were nearly becalmed, and witnessed some\nmagnificent eruptions of Mount Erebus, the flame and smoke being\nprojected to a great height; but we could not, as on a former occasion,\ndiscover any lava issuing from the crater; although the exhibitions of\nto-day were upon a much grander scale....\n\n\"Soon after midnight (February 16-17) a breeze sprang up from the\neastward and we made all sail to the southward until 4 A.M., although we\nhad an hour before distinctly traced the land entirely round the bay\nconnecting Mount Erebus with the mainland. I named it McMurdo Bay, after\nthe senior lieutenant of the Terror, a compliment that his zeal and skill\nwell merited.\"[10] It is now called McMurdo Sound.\n\nIn making the mistake of connecting Erebus with the mainland Ross was\nlooking at a distance upon the Hut Point Peninsula running out from the\nS.W. corner of Erebus towards the west. He probably saw Minna Bluff,\nwhich juts out from the mainland towards the east. Between them, and in\nfront of the Bluff, lie White Island, Black Island and Brown Island. To\nsuppose them to be part of a line of continuous land was a very natural\nmistake.\n\nRoss broke through the pack ice into an unknown sea: he laid down many\nhundreds of miles of mountainous coast-line, and (with further work\ncompleted in 1842) some 400 miles of the Great Ice Barrier: he penetrated\nin his ships to the extraordinarily high latitude of 78° 11´ S., four\ndegrees farther than Weddell. The scientific work of his expedition was\nno less worthy of praise. The South Magnetic Pole was fixed with\ncomparative accuracy, though Ross was disappointed in his natural but\n\"perhaps too ambitious hope I had so long cherished of being permitted to\nplant the flag of my country on both the magnetic Poles of our globe.\"\n\nBefore all things he was at great pains to be accurate, both in his\ngeographical and scientific observations, and his records of meteorology,\nwater temperatures, soundings, as also those concerning the life in the\noceans through which he passed, were not only frequent but trustworthy.\n\nWhen Ross returned to England in 1843 it was impossible not to believe\nthat the case of those who advocated the existence of a South Polar\ncontinent was considerably strengthened. At the same time there was no\nproof that the various blocks of land which had been discovered were\nconnected with one another. Even now in 1921, after twenty years of\ndetermined exploration aided by the most modern appliances, the interior\nof this supposed continent is entirely unknown and uncharted except in\nthe Ross Sea area, while the fringes of the land are only discovered in\nperhaps a dozen places on a circumference of about eleven thousand miles.\n\nIn his Life of Sir Joseph Hooker, Dr. Leonard Huxley has given us some\ninteresting sidelights on this expedition under Ross. Hooker was the\nbotanist of the expedition and assistant surgeon to the Erebus, being 22\nyears old when he left England in 1839. Natural history came off very\nbadly in the matter of equipment from the Government, who provided\ntwenty-five reams of paper, two botanizing vascula and two cases for\nbringing home live plants: that was all, not an instrument, nor a book,\nnor a bottle, and rum from the ship's stores was the only preservative.\nAnd when they returned, the rich collections which they brought back were\nnever fully worked out. Ross's special branch of science was terrestrial\nmagnetism, but he was greatly interested in Natural History, and gave up\npart of his cabin for Hooker to work in. \"Almost every day I draw,\nsometimes all day long and till two and three in the morning, the Captain\ndirecting me; he sits on one side of the table, writing and figuring at\nnight, and I on the other, drawing. Every now and then he breaks off and\ncomes to my side, to see what I am after ...\" and, \"as you may suppose,\nwe have had one or two little tiffs, neither of us perhaps being helped\nby the best of tempers; but nothing can exceed the liberality with which\nhe has thrown open his cabin to me and made it my workroom at no little\ninconvenience to himself.\"\n\nAnother extract from Hooker's letters after the first voyage runs as\nfollows:\n\n\"The success of the Expedition in Geographical discovery is really\nwonderful, and only shows what a little perseverance will do, for we have\nbeen in no dangerous predicaments, and have suffered no hardships\nwhatever: there has been a sort of freemasonry among Polar voyagers to\nkeep up the credit they have acquired as having done wonders, and\naccordingly, such of us as were new to the ice made up our minds for\nfrost-bites, and attached a most undue importance to the simple operation\nof boring packs, etc., which have now vanished, though I am not going to\ntell everybody so; I do not here refer to travellers, who do indeed\nundergo unheard-of hardships, but to voyagers who have a snug ship, a\nlittle knowledge of the Ice, and due caution is all that is required.\"\n\nIn the light of Scott's leading of the expedition of which I am about to\ntell, and the extraordinary scientific activity of Pennell in command of\nthe Terra Nova after Scott was landed, Hooker would have to qualify a\nlater extract, \"nor is it probable that any future collector will have a\nCaptain so devoted to the cause of Marine Zoology, and so constantly on\nthe alert to snatch the most trifling opportunities of adding to the\ncollection....\"\n\nFinally, we have a picture of the secrecy which was imposed upon all with\nregard to the news they should write home and the precautions against any\nleakage of scientific results. And we see Hooker jumping down the main\nhatch with a penguin skin in his hand which he was preparing for himself,\nwhen Ross came up the after hatch unexpectedly. That _has_ happened on\nthe Terra Nova!\n\nRoss had a cold reception on his return, and Scott wrote to Hooker in\n1905:\n\n\"At first it seems inexplicable when one considers how highly his work is\nnow appreciated. From the point of view of the general public, however, I\nhave always thought that Ross was neglected, and as you once said he is\nvery far from doing himself justice in his book. I did not know that\nBarrow was the bête noire who did so much to discount Ross's results. It\nis an interesting sidelight on such a venture.\"[11]\n\nIn discussing and urging the importance of the Antarctic Expedition which\nwas finally sent under Scott in the Discovery, Hooker urged the\nimportance of work in the South Polar Ocean, which swarms with animal and\nvegetable life. Commenting upon the fact that the large collections made\nchiefly by himself had never been worked out, except the diatoms, he\nwrites:\n\n\"A better fate, I trust, awaits the treasures that the hoped-for\nExpedition will bring back, for so prolific is the ocean that the\nnaturalist need never be idle, no, not even for one of the twenty-four\nhours of daylight during a whole Antarctic summer, and I look to the\nresults of a comparison of the oceanic life of the Arctic and Antarctic\nregions as the heralding of an epoch in the history of biology.\"[12]\n\nWhen Ross went to the Antarctic it was generally thought that there was\nneither food nor oxygen nor light in the depths of the ocean, and that\ntherefore there was no life. Among other things the investigations of\nRoss gave ground for thinking this was not the case. Later still, in\n1873, the possibility of laying submarine cables made it necessary to\ninvestigate the nature of the abyssal depths, and the Challenger proved\nthat not only does life, and in quite high forms, exist there, but that\nthere are fish which can see. It is now almost certain that there is a\ngreat oxidized northward-creeping current which flows out of the\nAntarctic Ocean and under the waters of the other great oceans of the\nworld.\n\nIt was the good fortune of Ross, at a time when the fringes of the great\nAntarctic continent were being discovered in comparatively low latitudes\nof 66° and thereabouts, sometimes not even within the Antarctic Circle,\nto find to the south of New Zealand a deep inlet in which he could sail\nto the high latitude of 78°. This inlet, which is now known as the Ross\nSea, has formed the starting-place of all sledging parties which have\napproached the South Pole. I have dwelt upon this description of the\nlands he discovered because they will come very intimately into this\nhistory. I have also emphasized his importance in the history of\nAntarctic exploration because Ross having done what it was possible to do\nby sea, penetrating so far south and making such memorable discoveries,\nthe next necessary step in Antarctic exploration was that another\ntraveller should follow up his work on land. It is an amazing thing that\nsixty years were allowed to elapse before that traveller appeared. When\nhe appeared he was Scott. In the sixty years which elapsed between Ross\nand Scott the map of the Antarctic remained practically unaltered. Scott\ntackled the land, and Scott is the Father of Antarctic sledge travelling.\n\nThis period of time saw a great increase in the interest taken in science\nboth pure and applied, and it had been pointed out in 1893 that \"we knew\nmore about the planet Mars than about a large area of our own globe.\" The\nChallenger Expedition of 1874 had spent three weeks within the Antarctic\nCircle, and the specimens brought home by her from the depths of these\ncold seas had aroused curiosity. Meanwhile Borchgrevink (1897) landed at\nCape Adare, and built a hut which still stands and which afforded our\nCape Adare party valuable assistance. Here he lived during the first\nwinter which men spent in the Antarctic.\n\nMeanwhile, in the Arctic, brave work was being done. The names of Parry,\nM'Clintock, Franklin, Markham, Nares, Greely and De Long are but a few of\nthe many which suggest themselves of those who have fought their way mile\nby mile over rough ice and open leads with appliances which now seem to\nbe primitive and with an addition to knowledge which often seemed hardly\ncommensurate with the hardships suffered and the disasters which\nsometimes overtook them. To those whose fortune it has been to serve\nunder Scott the Franklin Expedition has more than ordinary interest, for\nit was the same ships, the Erebus and Terror, which discovered Ross\nIsland, that were crushed in the northern ice after Franklin himself had\ndied, and it was Captain Crozier (the same Crozier who was Ross's captain\nin the South and after whom Cape Crozier is named) who then took command\nand led that most ghastly journey in all the history of exploration: more\nwe shall never know, for none survived to tell the tale. Now, with the\nnoise and racket of London all round them, a statue of Scott looks across\nto one of Franklin and his men of the Erebus and Terror, and surely they\nhave some thoughts in common.\n\nEnglishmen had led the way in the North, but it must be admitted that the\nfinest journey of all was made by the Norwegian Nansen in 1893-1896.\nBelieving in a drift from the neighbourhood of the New Siberian Islands\nwestwards over the Pole, a theory which obtained confirmation by the\ndiscovery off the coast of Greenland of certain remains of a ship called\nthe Jeannette which had been crushed in the ice off these islands, his\nbold project was to be frozen in with his ship and allow the current to\ntake him over, or as near as possible to, the Pole. For this purpose the\nmost famous of Arctic ships was built, called the Fram. She was designed\nby Colin Archer, and was saucer-shaped, with a breadth one-third of her\ntotal length. With most of the expert Arctic opinion against him, Nansen\nbelieved that this ship would rise and sit on the top of the ice when\npressed, instead of being crushed. Of her wonderful voyage with her\nthirteen men, of how she was frozen into the ice in September 1893 in the\nnorth of Siberia (79° N.) and of the heaving and trembling of the ship\namidst the roar of the ice pressure, of how the Fram rose to the occasion\nas she was built to do, the story has still, after twenty-eight years,\nthe thrill of novelty. She drifted over the eightieth degree on February\n2, 1894. During the first winter Nansen was already getting restive: the\ndrift was so slow, and sometimes it was backwards: it was not until the\nsecond autumn that the eighty-second degree arrived. So he decided that\nhe would make an attempt to penetrate northwards by sledging during the\nfollowing spring. As Nansen has told me, he felt that the ship would do\nher job in any case. Could not something more be done also?\n\nThis was one of the bravest decisions a polar explorer has ever taken. It\nmeant leaving a drifting ship which could not be regained: it meant a\nreturn journey over drifting ice to land; the nearest known land was\nnearly five hundred miles south of the point from which he started\nnorthwards; and the journey would include travelling both by sea and by\nice.\n\nUndoubtedly there was more risk in leaving the Fram than in remaining in\nher. It is a laughable absurdity to say, as Greely did after Nansen's\nalmost miraculous return, that he had deserted his men in an ice-beset\nship, and deserved to be censured for doing so.[13] The ship was left in\nthe command of Sverdrup. Johansen was chosen to be Nansen's one\ncompanion, and we shall hear of him again in the Fram, this time with\nAmundsen in his voyage to the South.\n\nThe polar traveller is so interested in the adventure and hardships of\nNansen's sledge journey that his equipment, which is the most important\nside of his expedition to us who have gone South, is liable to be\noverlooked. The modern side of polar travel begins with Nansen. It was\nNansen who first used a light sledge based upon the ski sledge of Norway,\nin place of the old English heavy sledge which was based upon the Eskimo\ntype. Cooking apparatus, food, tents, clothing and the thousand and one\ndetails of equipment without which no journey nowadays stands much chance\nof success, all date back to Nansen in the immediate past, though beyond\nhim of course is the experience of centuries of travellers. As Nansen\nhimself wrote of the English polar men: \"How well was their equipment\nthought out and arranged with the means they had at their disposal!\nTruly, there is nothing new under the sun. Most of what I prided myself\nupon, and what I thought to be new, I find they had anticipated.\nM'Clintock used the same things forty years ago. It was not their fault\nthat they were born in a country where the use of snowshoes is\nunknown....\"[14]\n\nAll the more honour to the men who dared so much and travelled so far\nwith the limited equipment of the past. The real point for us is that,\njust as Scott is the Father of Antarctic sledge travelling, so Nansen may\nbe considered the modern Father of it all.\n\nNansen and Johansen started on March 14 when the Fram was in latitude 84°\n4´ N., and the sun had only returned a few days before, with three\nsledges (two of which carried kayaks) and 28 dogs. They reached their\nnorthern-most camp on April 8, which Nansen has given in his book as\nbeing in latitude 86° 13.6´ N. But Nansen tells me that Professor\nGeelmuyden, who had his astronomical results and his diary, reckoned that\nowing to refraction the horizon was lifted, and if so the observation had\nto be reduced accordingly. Nansen therefore gave the reduced latitude in\nhis book, but he considers that his horizon was very clear when he took\nthat observation, and believes that his latitude was higher than that\ngiven. He used a sextant and the natural horizon.\n\nThey turned, and travelling back round pressed-up ice and open leads they\nfailed to find the land they had been led to expect in latitude 83°,\nwhich indeed was proved to be non-existent. At the end of June they\nstarted using the kayaks, which needed many repairs after their rough\npassage, to cross the open leads. They waited long in camp, that the\ntravelling conditions might improve, and all the time Nansen saw a white\nspot he thought was cloud. At last, on July 24, land was in sight, which\nproved to be that white spot. Fourteen days later they reached it to find\nthat it consisted of a series of islands. These they left behind them\nand, unable to say what land they had reached, for their watches had run\ndown, they coasted on westwards and southwards until winter approached.\nThey built a hut of moss and stones and snow, and roofed it with walrus\nskins cut from the animals while they lay in the sea, for they were too\nheavy for two men to drag on to the ice. When I met Nansen he had\nforgotten all about this, and would not believe that it had happened\nuntil he saw it in his own book. They lay in their old clothes that\nwinter, so soaked with blubber that the only way to clean their shirts\nwas to scrape them. They made themselves new clothes from blankets, and\nsleeping-bags from the skins of the bears which they ate, and started\nagain in May of the following year to make Spitzbergen. They had been\ntravelling a long month, during which time they had at least two very\nnarrow escapes--the first due to their kayaks floating away, when Nansen\nswam out into the icy sea and reached them just before he sank, and\nJohansen passed the worst moments of his life watching from the shore;\nthe second caused by the attack of a walrus which went for Nansen's kayak\nwith tusks and flippers. And then one morning, as he looked round at the\ncold glaciers and naked cliffs, not knowing where he was, he heard a dog\nbark. Intensely excited, he started towards the sound, to be met by the\nleader of the English Jackson-Harmsworth Expedition whose party was\nwintering there, and who first gave him the definite news that he was on\nFranz Josef Land. Nansen and Johansen were finally landed at Vardo in the\nnorth of Norway, to learn that no tidings had yet been heard of the Fram.\nThat very day she cleared the ice which had imprisoned her for nearly\nthree years.\n\nI cannot go into the Fram's journey save to say that she had drifted as\nfar north as 85° 55´ N., only eighteen geographical miles south of\nNansen's farthest north. But the sledge journey and the winter spent by\nthe two men has many points in common with the experience of our own\nNorthern Party, and often and often during the long winter of 1912 our\nthoughts turned with hope to Nansen's winter, for we said if it had been\ndone once why should it not be done again, and Campbell and his men\nsurvive.\n\nBefore Nansen started, the spirit of adventure, which has always led men\ninto the unknown, combined with the increased interest in knowledge for\nits own sake to turn the thoughts of the civilized world southwards. It\nwas becoming plain that a continent of the extent and climate which this\npolar land probably possessed might have an overwhelming influence upon\nthe weather conditions of the whole Southern Hemisphere. The importance\nof magnetism was only rivalled by the mystery in which the whole subject\nwas shrouded: and the region which surrounded the Southern Magnetic Pole\nof the earth offered a promising field of experiment and observation. The\npast history, through the ages, of this land was of obvious importance to\nthe geological story of the earth, whilst the survey of land formations\nand ice action in the Antarctic was more useful perhaps to the\nphysiographer than that of any other country in the world, seeing that he\nfound here in daily and even hourly operation the conditions which he\nknew had existed in the ice ages of the past over the whole world, but\nwhich he could only infer from vestigial remains. The biological\nimportance of the Antarctic might be of the first magnitude in view of\nthe significance which attaches to the life of the sea in the\nevolutionary problem.\n\nAnd it was with these objects and ideals that Scott's first expedition,\nknown officially as the British Antarctic Expedition of 1901-1904, but\nmore familiarly as 'The Discovery Expedition,' from the name of the ship\nwhich carried it, was organized by the Royal Society and the Royal\nGeographical Society, backed by the active support of the British\nGovernment. The executive officers and crew were Royal Navy almost\nwithout exception, whilst the scientific purposes of the expedition were\nserved in addition by five scientists. These latter were not naval\nofficers.\n\nThe Discovery left New Zealand on Christmas Eve 1901, and entered the\nbelt of pack ice which always has to be penetrated in order to reach the\ncomparatively open sea beyond, when just past the Antarctic Circle. But a\nlittle more than four days saw her through, in which she was lucky, as we\nnow know. Scott landed at Cape Adare and then coasted down the western\ncoast of Victoria Land just as Ross had done sixty years before. As he\nvoyaged south he began to look for safe winter quarters for the ship, and\nwhen he pushed into McMurdo Sound on January 21, 1902, it seemed that\nhere he might find both a sheltered bay into which the ship could be\nfrozen, and a road to the southland beyond.\n\nThe open season which still remained before the freezing of the sea made\nprogress impossible was spent in surveying the 500 miles of cliff which\nmarks the northern limit of the Great Ice Barrier. Passing the extreme\neastward position reached by Ross in 1842, they sailed on into an unknown\nworld, and discovered a deep bay, called Balloon Bight, where the rounded\nsnow-covered slopes undoubtedly were land and not, as heretofore,\nfloating ice. Farther east, as they sailed, shallow soundings and gentle\nsnow slopes gave place to steeper and more broken ridges, until at last\nsmall black patches in the snow gave undoubted evidence of rock; and an\nundiscovered land, now known as King Edward VII.'s Land, rose to a height\nof several thousand feet. The presence of thick pack ahead, and the\nadvance of the season, led Scott to return to McMurdo Sound, where he\nanchored the Discovery in a little bay at the end of the tongue of land\nnow known as the Hut Point Peninsula, and built the hut which, though\nlittle used in the Discovery days, was to figure so largely in the story\nof this his last expedition.\n\nThe first autumn was spent in various short journeys of\ndiscovery--discovery not only of the surrounding land but of many\nmistakes in sledging equipment and routine. It is amazing to one who\nlooks back upon these first efforts of the Discovery Expedition that the\nresults were not more disastrous than was actually the case. When one\nreads of dog-teams which refused to start, of pemmican which was\nconsidered to be too rich to eat, of two officers discussing the ascent\nof Erebus and back in one day, and of sledging parties which knew neither\nhow to use their cookers or lamp, nor how to put up their tents, nor even\nhow to put on their clothes, then one begins to wonder that the process\nof education was gained at so small a price. \"Not a single article of the\noutfit had been tested; and amid the general ignorance that prevailed the\nlack of system was painfully apparent in everything.\"[15]\n\nThis led to a tragedy. A returning sledge party of men was overtaken by a\nblizzard on the top of the Peninsula near Castle Rock. They quite\nproperly camped, and should have been perfectly comfortable lying in\ntheir sleeping-bags after a hot meal. But the primus lamps could not be\nlighted, and as they sat in leather boots and inadequate clothing being\ncontinually frost-bitten they decided to leave the tent and make their\nway to the ship--sheer madness as we now know. As they groped their way\nin the howling snow-drift the majority of the party either slipped or\nrolled down a steep slippery snow slope some thousand feet high ending in\na precipitous ice-cliff, below which lay the open sea. It is a nasty\nplace on a calm summer day: in a blizzard it must be ghastly. Yet only\none man, named Vince, shot down the slope and over the precipice into the\nsea below. How the others got back heaven knows. One seaman called Hare,\nwho separated from the others and lay down under a rock, awoke after\nthirty-six hours, covered with snow but in full possession of his\nfaculties and free from frost-bites. The little cross at Hut Point\ncommemorates the death of Vince. One of this party was a seaman called\nWild, who came to the front and took the lead of five of the survivors\nafter the death of Vince. He was to take the lead often in future\nexpeditions under Shackleton and Mawson, and there are few men living\nwho have so proved themselves as polar travellers.\n\nI have dwelt upon this side of the early sledging deficiencies of the\nDiscovery to show the importance of experience in Antarctic land\ntravelling, whether it be at first or second hand. Scott and his men in\n1902 were pioneers. They bought their experience at a price which might\neasily have been higher; and each expedition which has followed has added\nto the fund. The really important thing is that nothing of what is gained\nshould be lost. It is one of the main objects of this book to hand on as\ncomplete a record as possible of the methods, equipment, food and weights\nused by Scott's Last Expedition for the use of future explorers. \"The\nfirst object of writing an account of a Polar voyage is the guidance of\nfuture voyagers: the first duty of the writer is to his successors.\"[16]\n\nThe adaptability, invention and resource of the men of the Discovery when\nthey set to work after the failures of the autumn to prepare for the\nsuccesses of the two following summers showed that they could rise to\ntheir difficulties. Scott admitted that \"food, clothing, everything was\nwrong, the whole system was bad.\"[17] In determining to profit by his\nmistakes, and working out a complete system of Antarctic travel, he was\nat his best; and it was after a winter of drastic reorganization that he\nstarted on November 2, 1902, on his first southern journey with two\ncompanions, Wilson and Shackleton.\n\nIt is no part of my job to give an account of this journey. The dogs\nfailed badly: probably the Norwegian stock-fish which had been brought\nthrough the tropics to feed them was tainted: at any rate they sickened;\nand before the journey was done all the dogs had to be killed or had\ndied. A fortnight after starting, the party was relaying--that is, taking\non part of their load and returning for the rest; and this had to be\ncontinued for thirty-one days.\n\n[Illustration: THE LAST OF THE DOGS--E. A. Wilson, del.]\n\nThe ration of food was inadequate and they became very hungry as time\nwent on; but it was not until December 21 that Wilson disclosed to\nScott that Shackleton had signs of scurvy which had been present for some\ntime. On December 30, in latitude 82° 16´ S., they decided to return. By\nthe middle of January the scurvy signs were largely increased and\nShackleton was seriously ill and spitting blood. His condition became\nmore and more alarming, and he collapsed on January 18, but revived\nafterwards. Sometimes walking by the sledge, sometimes being carried upon\nit, Shackleton survived: Scott and Wilson saved his life. The three men\nreached the ship on February 3, after covering 960 statute miles in 93\ndays. Scott and Wilson were both extremely exhausted and seriously\naffected by scurvy. It was a fine journey, the geographical results of\nwhich comprised the survey of some three hundred miles of new coast-line,\nand a further knowledge of the Barrier upon which they travelled.\n\nWhile Scott was away southwards an organized attempt was made to discover\nthe nature of the mountains and glaciers which lay across the Sound to\nthe west. This party actually reached the plateau which lay beyond, and\nattained a height of 8900 feet, when \"as far as they could see in every\ndirection to the westward of them there extended a level plateau, to the\nsouth and north could be seen isolated nunataks, and behind them showed\nthe high mountains which they had passed\": a practicable road to the west\nhad been found.\n\nI need note no more than these two most important of the many journeys\ncarried out this season: nor is it necessary for me to give any account\nof the continuous and fertile scientific work which was accomplished in\nthis virgin land. In the meantime a relief ship, the Morning, had\narrived. It was intended that the Discovery should return this year as\nsoon as the sea-ice in which she was imprisoned should break up and set\nher free. As February passed, however, it became increasingly plain that\nthe ice conditions were altogether different from those of the previous\nyear. On the 8th the Morning was still separated from the Discovery by\neight miles of fast ice. March 2 was fully late for a low-powered ship to\nremain in the Sound, and on this date the Morning left. By March 13 all\nhope of the Discovery being freed that year was abandoned.\n\nThe second winter passed much as the first, and as soon as spring arrived\nsledging was continued. These spring journeys on the Barrier, with\nsunlight only by day and low temperatures at all times, entailed great\ndiscomfort and, perhaps worse, want of sleep, frost-bites, and a fast\naccumulation of moisture in all one's clothing and in the sleeping-bags,\nwhich resulted in masses of ice which had to be thawed out by the heat of\none's body before any degree of comfort could be gained. A fortnight was\nconsidered about the extreme limit of time for such a journey, and\ngenerally parties were not absent so long; for at this time a spring\njourney was considered a dreadful experience. \"Wait till you've had a\nspring journey\" was the threat of the old stagers to us. A winter journey\nlasting nearly three times as long as a spring journey was not imagined.\nI advise explorers to be content with imagining it in the future.\n\nThe hardest journey of this year was carried out by Scott with two seamen\nof whom much will be written in this history. Their names are Edgar Evans\nand Lashly. The object of the journey was to explore westwards into the\ninterior of the plateau. By way of the Ferrar Glacier they reached the\nice-cap after considerable troubles, not the least of which was the loss\nof the data necessary for navigation contained in an excellent\npublication called Hints to Travellers, which was blown away. Then for\nthe first time it was seen what additional difficulties are created by\nthe climate and position of this lofty plateau, which we now know extends\nover the Pole and probably reaches over the greater part of the Antarctic\ncontinent. It was the beginning of November: that is, the beginning of\nsummer; but the conditions of work were much the same as those found\nduring the spring journeys on the Barrier. The temperature dropped into\nthe minus forties; but the worst feature of all was a continuous\nhead-wind blowing from west to east which combined with the low\ntemperature and rarefied air to make the conditions of sledging\nextremely laborious. The supporting party returned, and the three men\ncontinued alone, pulling out westwards into an unknown waste of snow with\nno landmarks to vary the rough monotony. They turned homewards on\nDecember 1, but found the pulling very heavy; and their difficulties were\nincreased by their ignorance of their exact position. The few glimpses of\nthe land which they obtained as they approached it in the thick weather\nwhich prevailed only left them in horrible uncertainty as to their\nwhereabouts. Owing to want of food it was impossible to wait for the\nweather to clear: there was nothing to be done but to continue their\neastward march. Threading their way amidst the ice disturbances which\nmark the head of the glaciers, the party pushed blindly forward in air\nwhich was becoming thick with snow-drift. Suddenly Lashly slipped: in a\nmoment the whole party was flying downwards with increasing speed. They\nceased to slide smoothly; they were hurled into the air and descended\nwith great force on to a gradual snow incline. Rising they looked round\nthem to find above them an ice-fall 300 feet high down which they had\nfallen: above it the snow was still drifting, but where they stood there\nwas peace and blue sky. They recognized now for the first time their own\nglacier and the well-remembered landmark, and far away in the distance\nwas the smoking summit of Mount Erebus. It was a miracle.\n\nExcellent subsidiary journeys were also made of which space allows no\nmention here: nor do they bear directly upon this last expedition. But in\nview of the Winter Journey undertaken by us, if not for the interest of\nthe subject itself, some account must be given of those most aristocratic\ninhabitants of the Antarctic, the Emperor penguins, with whom Wilson and\nhis companions in the Discovery now became familiar.\n\nThere are two kinds of Antarctic penguins--the little Adélie with his\nblue-black coat and his white shirt-front, weighing 16 lbs., an object of\nendless pleasure and amusement, and the great dignified Emperor with long\ncurved beak, bright orange head-wear and powerful flippers, a\npersonality of 6½ stones. Science singles out the Emperor as being the\nmore interesting bird because he is more primitive, possibly the most\nprimitive of all birds. Previous to the Discovery Expedition nothing was\nknown of him save that he existed in the pack and on the fringes of the\ncontinent.\n\nWe have heard of Cape Crozier as being the eastern extremity of Ross\nIsland, discovered by Ross and named after the captain of the Terror. It\nis here that with immense pressures and rendings the moving sheet of the\nBarrier piles itself up against the mountain. It is here also that the\ngreat ice-cliff which runs for hundreds of miles to the east, with the\nBarrier behind it and the Ross Sea beating into its crevasses and caves,\njoins the basalt precipice which bounds the Knoll, as the two-knobbed\nsaddle which forms Cape Crozier is called. Altogether it is the kind of\nplace where giants have had a good time in their childhood, playing with\nice instead of mud--so much cleaner too!\n\nBut the slopes of Mount Terror do not all end in precipices. Farther to\nthe west they slope quietly into the sea, and the Adélie penguins have\ntaken advantage of this to found here one of their largest and most\nsmelly rookeries. When the Discovery arrived off this rookery she sent a\nboat ashore and set up a post with a record upon it to guide the relief\nship in the following year. The post still stands. Later it became\ndesirable to bring the record left here more up to date, and so one of\nthe first sledging parties went to try and find a way by the Barrier to\nthis spot.\n\nThey were prevented from reaching the record by a series of most violent\nblizzards, and indeed Cape Crozier is one of the windiest places on\nearth, but they proved beyond doubt that a back-door to the Adélie\npenguins' rookery existed by way of the slopes of Mount Terror behind the\nKnoll. Early the next year another party reached the record all right,\nand while exploring the neighbourhood looked down over the 800-feet\nprecipice which forms the snout of Cape Crozier. The sea was frozen over,\nand in a small bay of ice formed by the cliffs of the Barrier below were\nnumerous little dots which resolved themselves into Emperor penguins.\nCould this be the breeding-place of these wonderful birds? If so, they\nmust nurse their eggs in mid-winter, in unimagined cold and darkness.\n\nFive days more elapsed before further investigation could be made, for a\nviolent blizzard kept the party in their tents. On October 18 they set\nout to climb the high pressure ridges which lie between the level barrier\nand the sea. They found that their conjectures were right: there was the\ncolony of Emperors. Several were nursing chicks, but all the ice in the\nRoss Sea was gone; only the small bay of ice remained. The number of\nadult birds was estimated at four hundred, the number of living chicks\nwas thirty, and there were some eighty dead ones. No eggs were found.[18]\n\nSeveral more journeys were made to this spot while the Discovery was in\nthe south, generally in the spring; and the sum total of the information\ngained came to something like this. The Emperor is a bird which cannot\nfly, lives on fish which it catches in the sea, and never steps on land\neven to breed. For a reason which was not then understood it lays its\neggs upon the bare ice some time during the winter and carries out the\nwhole process of incubation on the sea ice, resting the egg upon its feet\npressed closely to a patch of bare skin in the lower abdomen, and\nprotected from the intense cold by a loose falling lappet of skin and\nfeathers. By September 12, the earliest date upon which a party arrived,\nall the eggs which were not broken or addled were hatched, and there were\nthen about a thousand adult Emperors in the rookery. Arriving again on\nOctober 19, a party experienced a ten days' blizzard which confined them\nduring seven days to their tents, but during their windy visit they saw\none of the most interesting scenes in natural history. The story must be\ntold by Wilson, who was there:\n\n\"The day before the storm broke we were on an old outlying cone of Mount\nTerror, about 1300 feet above the sea. Below us lay the Emperor penguin\nrookery on the bay ice, and Ross Sea, completely frozen over, was a\nplain of firm white ice to the horizon. There was not even the lane of\nopen water which usually runs along the Barrier cliff stretching away as\nit does like a winding thread to the east and out of sight. No space or\ncrack could be seen with open water. Nevertheless the Emperors were\nunsettled owing, there can be no doubt, to the knowledge that bad weather\nwas impending. The mere fact that the usual canal of open water was not\nto be seen along the face of the Barrier meant that the ice in Ross Sea\nhad a southerly drift. This in itself was unusual, and was caused by a\nnortherly wind with snow, the precursor here of a storm from the\nsouth-west. The sky looked black and threatening, the barometer began to\nfall, and before long down came snowflakes on the upper heights of Mount\nTerror.\n\n\"All these warnings were an open book to the Emperor penguins, and if one\nknew the truth there probably were many others too. They were in\nconsequence unsettled, and although the ice had not yet started moving\nthe Emperor penguins had; a long file was moving out from the bay to the\nopen ice, where a pack of some one or two hundred had already collected\nabout two miles out at the edge of a refrozen crack. For an hour or more\nthat afternoon we watched this exodus proceeding, and returned to camp,\nmore than ever convinced that bad weather might be expected. Nor were we\ndisappointed, for on the next day we woke to a southerly gale and smother\nof snow and drift, which effectually prevented any one of us from leaving\nour camp at all. This continued without intermission all day and night\ntill the following morning, when the weather cleared sufficiently to\nallow us to reach the edge of the cliff which overlooked the rookery.\n\n[Illustration: THE EMPERORS ROOKERY]\n\n\"The change here was immense. Ross Sea was open water for nearly thirty\nmiles; a long line of white pack ice was just visible on the horizon from\nwhere we stood, some 800 to 900 feet above the sea. Large sheets of ice\nwere still going out and drifting to the north, and the migration of the\nEmperors was in full swing. There were again two companies waiting on\nthe ice at the actual water's edge, with some hundred more tailing out in\nsingle file to join them. The birds were waiting far out at the edge of\nthe open water, as far as it was possible for them to walk, on a\nprojecting piece of ice, the very next piece that would break away and\ndrift to the north. The line of tracks in the snow along which the birds\nhad gone the day before was now cut off short at the edge of the open\nwater, showing that they had gone, and under the ice-cliffs there was an\nappreciable diminution in the number of Emperors left, hardly more than\nhalf remaining of all that we had seen there six days before.\"[19]\n\nTwo days later the emigration was still in full swing, but only the\nunemployed seemed to have gone as yet. Those who were nursing chicks were\nstill huddled under the ice-cliffs, sheltered as much as possible from\nthe storm. Three days later (October 28) no ice was to be seen in the\nRoss Sea: the little bay of ice was gradually being eaten away: the same\nexodus was in progress and only a remnant of penguins was still left.\n\nOf the conditions under which the Emperor lays her eggs, the darkness and\ncold and blighting winds, of the excessive mothering instinct implanted\nin the heart of every bird, male and female, of the mortality and gallant\nstruggles against almost inconceivable odds, and the final survival of\nsome 26 per cent of the eggs, I hope to tell in the account of our Winter\nJourney, the object of which was to throw light upon the development of\nthe embryo of this remarkable bird, and through it upon the history of\ntheir ancestors. As Wilson wrote:\n\n\"The possibility that we have in the Emperor penguin the nearest approach\nto a primitive form not only of a penguin but of a bird makes the future\nworking out of its embryology a matter of the greatest possible\nimportance. It was a great disappointment to us that although we\ndiscovered their breeding-ground, and although we were able to bring home\na number of deserted eggs and chicks, we were not able to procure a\nseries of early embryos by which alone the points of particular interest\ncan be worked out. To have done this in a proper manner from the spot at\nwhich the Discovery wintered in McMurdo Sound would have involved us in\nendless difficulties, for it would have entailed the risks of sledge\ntravelling in mid-winter with an almost total absence of light. It would\nat any time require that a party of three at least, with full camp\nequipment, should traverse about a hundred miles of the Barrier surface\nin the dark and should, by moonlight, cross over with rope and axe the\nimmense pressure ridges which form a chaos of crevasses at Cape Crozier.\nThese ridges, moreover, which have taken a party as much as two hours of\ncareful work to cross by daylight, must be crossed and re-crossed at\nevery visit to the breeding site in the bay. There is no possibility even\nby daylight of conveying over them the sledge or camping kit, and in the\ndarkness of mid-winter the impracticability is still more obvious. Cape\nCrozier is a focus for wind and storm, where every breath is converted,\nby the configuration of Mounts Erebus and Terror, into a regular drifting\nblizzard full of snow. It is here, as I have already stated, that on one\njourney or another we have had to lie patiently in sodden sleeping-bags\nfor as many as five and seven days on end, waiting for the weather to\nchange and make it possible for us to leave our tents at all. If,\nhowever, these dangers were overcome there would still be the difficulty\nof making the needful preparations from the eggs. The party would have to\nbe on the scene at any rate early in July. Supposing that no eggs were\nfound upon arrival, it would be well to spend the time in labelling the\nmost likely birds, those for example that have taken up their stations\nclose underneath the ice-cliffs. And if this were done it would be easier\nthen to examine them daily by moonlight, if it and the weather generally\nwere suitable: conditions, I must confess, not always easily obtained at\nCape Crozier. But if by good luck things happened to go well, it would by\nthis time be useful to have a shelter built of snow blocks on the sea-ice\nin which to work with the cooking lamp to prevent the freezing of the egg\nbefore the embryo was cut out, and in order that fluid solutions might\nbe handy for the various stages of its preparation; for it must be borne\nin mind that the temperature all the while may be anything between zero\nand -50° F. The whole work no doubt would be full of difficulty, but it\nwould not be quite impossible, and it is with a view to helping those to\nwhom the opportunity may occur in future that this outline has been added\nof the difficulties that would surely beset their path.\"[20]\n\nWe shall meet the Emperor penguins again, but now we must go back to the\nDiscovery, lying off Hut Point, with the season advancing and twenty\nmiles of ice between her and the open sea. The prospects of getting out\nthis year seeming almost less promising than those of the last year, an\nabortive attempt was made to saw a channel from a half-way point. Still,\nlife to Scott and Wilson in a tent at Cape Royds was very pleasant after\nsledging, and the view of the blue sea framed in the tent door was very\nbeautiful on a morning in January when two ships sailed into the frame.\nWhy two? One was of course the Morning; the second proved to be the Terra\nNova.\n\nIt seemed that the authorities at home had been alarmed at the reports\nbrought back the previous year by the relief ship of the detention of the\nDiscovery and certain outbreaks of scurvy which had occurred both on the\nship and on sledge journeys. To make sure of relief two ships had been\nsent. That was nothing to worry about, but the orders they brought were\nstaggering to sailors who had come to love their ship \"with a depth of\nsentiment which cannot be surprising when it is remembered what we had\nbeen through in her and what a comfortable home she had proved.\"[21]\nScott was ordered to abandon the Discovery if she could not be freed in\ntime to accompany the relief ships to the north. For weeks there was\nlittle or no daily change. They started to transport the specimens and\nmake the other necessary preparations. They almost despaired of freedom.\nExplosions in the ice were started in the beginning of February with\nlittle effect. But suddenly there came a change, and on the 11th, amidst\nintense excitement, the ice was breaking up fast. The next day the relief\nships were but four miles away. On the 14th a shout of \"The ships are\ncoming, sir!\" brought out all the men racing to the slopes above Arrival\nBay. Scott wrote:\n\n\"The ice was breaking up right across the Strait, and with a rapidity\nwhich we had not thought possible. No sooner was one great floe borne\naway than a dark streak cut its way into the solid sheet that remained,\nand carved out another, to feed the broad stream of pack which was\nhurrying away to the north-west.\n\n\"I have never witnessed a more impressive sight; the sun was low behind\nus, the surface of the ice-sheet in front was intensely white, and in\ncontrast the distant sea and its leads looked almost black. The wind had\nfallen to a calm, and not a sound disturbed the stillness about us.\n\n\"Yet in the midst of this peaceful silence was an awful unseen agency\nrending that great ice-sheet as though it had been naught but the\nthinnest paper. We knew well by this time the nature of our prison bars;\nwe had not plodded again and again over those long dreary miles of snow\nwithout realizing the formidable strength of the great barrier which held\nus bound; we knew that the heaviest battle-ship would have shattered\nitself ineffectually against it, and we had seen a million-ton iceberg\nbrought to rest at its edge. For weeks we had been struggling with this\nmighty obstacle ... but now without a word, without an effort on our\npart, it was all melting away, and we knew that in an hour or two not a\nvestige of it would be left, and that the open sea would be lapping on\nthe black rocks of Hut Point.\"[22]\n\nAlmost more dramatic was the grounding of the Discovery off the shoal at\nHut Point owing to the rise of a blizzard immediately after her release\nfrom the ice. Hour after hour she lay pounding on the shore, and when it\nseemed most certain that she had been freed only to be destroyed, and\nwhen all hope was nearly gone, the wind lulled, and the waters of the\nSound, driven out by the force of the wind, returned and the Discovery\nfloated off with little damage. The whole story of the release from the\nice and subsequent grounding of the Discovery is wonderfully told by\nScott in his book.\n\nSome years after this I met Wilson in a shooting lodge in Scotland. He\nwas working upon grouse disease for the Royal Commission which had been\nappointed, and I saw then for the first time something of his magnetic\npersonality and glimpses also of his methods of work. He and Scott both\nmeant to go back and finish the job, and I then settled that when they\nwent I would go too if wishing could do anything. Meanwhile Shackleton\nwas either in the South or making his preparations to go there.\n\nHe left England in 1908, and in the following Antarctic summer two\nwonderful journeys were made. The first, led by Shackleton himself,\nconsisted of four men and four ponies. Leaving Cape Royds, where the\nexpedition wintered in a hut, in November, they marched due south on the\nBarrier outside Scott's track until they were stopped by the eastward\ntrend of the range of mountains, and by the chaotic pressure caused by\nthe discharge of a Brobdingnagian glacier.\n\nBut away from the main stream of the glacier, and separated from it by\nland now known as Hope Island, was a narrow and steep snow slope forming\na gateway which opened on to the main glacier stream. Boldly plunging\nthrough this, the party made its way up the Beardmore Glacier, a giant of\nits kind, being more than twice as large as any other known. The history\nof their adventures will make anybody's flesh creep. From the top they\ntravelled due south toward the Pole under the trying conditions of the\nplateau and reached the high latitude of 88° 23´ S. before they were\nforced to turn by lack of food.\n\nWhile Shackleton was essaying the geographical Pole another party of\nthree men under Professor David reached the magnetic Pole, travelling a\ndistance of 1260 miles, of which 740 miles were relay work, relying\nentirely on man-haulage, and with no additional help. This was a very\nwonderful journey, and when Shackleton returned in 1909 he and his\nexpedition had made good. During the same year the North Pole was reached\nby Peary after some twelve years of travelling in Arctic regions.\n\nScott published the plans of his second expedition in 1909. This\nexpedition is the subject of the present history.\n\nThe Terra Nova sailed from the West India Dock, London, on June 1, 1910,\nand from Cardiff on June 15. She made her way to New Zealand, refitted\nand restowed her cargo, took on board ponies, dogs, motor sledges,\ncertain further provisions and equipment, as well as such members of her\nexecutive officers and scientists as had not travelled out in her, and\nleft finally for the South on November 29, 1910. She arrived in McMurdo\nSound on January 4, 1911, and our hut had been built on Cape Evans and\nall stores landed in less than a fortnight. Shortly afterwards the ship\nsailed. The party which was left at Cape Evans under Scott is known as\nthe Main Party.\n\nBut the scientific objects of the expedition included the landing of a\nsecond but much smaller party under Campbell on King Edward VII.'s Land.\nWhile returning from an abortive attempt to land here they found a\nNorwegian expedition under Captain Roald Amundsen in Nansen's old ship\nthe Fram in the Bay of Whales: reference to this expedition will be found\nelsewhere.[23] One member of Amundsen's party was Johansen, the only\ncompanion of Nansen on his famous Arctic sledge journey, of which a brief\noutline has been given above.[24] Campbell and his five companions were\nfinally landed at Cape Adare, and built their hut close to\nBorchgrevinck's old winter quarters.[25] The ship returned to New Zealand\nunder Pennell: came back to the Antarctic a year later with further\nequipment and provisions, and again two years later to bring back to\ncivilization the survivors of the expedition.\n\nThe adventures and journeyings of the various members of the Main Party\nare so numerous and simultaneous that I believe it will help the reader\nwho approaches this book without previous knowledge of the history of\nthe expedition to give here a brief summary of the course of events.\nThose who are familiar already with these facts can easily skip a page or\ntwo.\n\nTwo parties were sent out during the first autumn: the one under Scott to\nlay a large depôt on the Barrier for the Polar Journey, and this is\ncalled the Depôt Journey; the other to carry out geological work among\nthe Western Mountains, so called because they form the western side of\nMcMurdo Sound: this is called the First Geological Journey, and another\nsimilar journey during the following summer is called the Second\nGeological Journey.\n\nBoth parties joined up at the old Discovery Hut at Hut Point in March\n1911, and here waited for the sea to freeze a passage northwards to Cape\nEvans. Meanwhile the men left at Cape Evans were continuing the complex\nscientific work of the station. All the members of the Main Party were\nnot gathered together at Cape Evans for the winter until May 12. During\nthe latter half of the winter a journey was made by three men led by\nWilson to Cape Crozier to investigate the embryology of the Emperor\npenguin: this is called the Winter Journey.\n\nThe journey to the South Pole absorbed the energies of most of the\nsledging members during the following summer of 1911-12. The motor party\nturned back on the Barrier; the dog party at the bottom of the Beardmore\nGlacier. From this point twelve men went forward. Four of these men under\nAtkinson returned from the top of the glacier in latitude 85° 3´ S.: they\nare known as the First Return Party. A fortnight later in latitude 87°\n32´ S. three more men returned under Lieutenant Evans: these are the\nSecond Return Party. Five men went forward, Scott, Wilson, Bowers, Oates\nand Seaman Evans. They reached the Pole on January 17 to find that\nAmundsen had reached it thirty-four days earlier. They returned 721\nstatute miles and perished 177 miles from their winter quarters.\n\nThe supporting parties got back safely, but Lieutenant Evans was very\nseriously ill with scurvy. The food necessary for the return of the Polar\nParty from One Ton Camp had not been taken out at the end of February\n1912. Evans' illness caused a hurried reorganization of plans, and I was\nordered to take out this food with one lad and two dog-teams. This was\ndone, and the journey may be called the Dog Journey to One Ton Camp.\n\nWe must now go back to the six men led by Campbell who were landed at\nCape Adare in the beginning of 1911. They were much disappointed by the\nsmall amount of sledge work which they were able to do in the summer of\n1911-1912, for the sea-ice in front of them was blown out early in the\nyear, and they were unable to find a way up through the mountains behind\nthem on to the plateau. Therefore, when the Terra Nova appeared on\nJanuary 4, it was decided that she should land them with six weeks'\nsledging rations and some extra biscuits, pemmican and general food near\nMount Melbourne at Evans Coves, some 250 geographical miles south of Cape\nAdare, and some 200 geographical miles from our Winter Quarters at Cape\nEvans. Late on the night of January 8, 1912, they were camped in this\nspot and saw the last of the ship steaming out of the bay. They had\narranged to be picked up again on February 18.\n\nLet us return to McMurdo Sound. My two dog-teams arrived at Hut Point\nfrom One Ton Depôt on March 16 exhausted. The sea-ice was still in from\nthe Barrier to Hut Point, but from there onwards was open water, and\ntherefore no communication was possible with Cape Evans. Atkinson, with\none seaman, was at Hut Point and the situation which he outlined to me on\narrival was something as follows:\n\nThe ship had left and there was now no possibility of her returning owing\nto the lateness of the season, and she carried in her Lieut. Evans, sick\nwith scurvy, and five other officers and three men who were returning\nhome this year. This left only four officers and four men at Cape Evans,\nin addition to the four of us at Hut Point.\n\nThe serious part of the news was that owing to a heavy pack the ship had\nbeen absolutely unable to reach Campbell's party at Evans Coves. Attempt\nafter attempt had made without success. Would Campbell winter where he\nwas? Would he try to sledge down the coast?\n\nIn the absence of Scott the command of the expedition under the\nextraordinarily difficult circumstances which arose, both now and during\nthe coming year, would naturally have devolved upon Lieutenant Evans. But\nEvans, very sick, was on his way to England. The task fell to Atkinson,\nand I hope that these pages will show how difficult it was, and how well\nhe tackled it.\n\nThere were now, that is since the arrival of the dog-teams four of us at\nHut Point; and no help could be got from Cape Evans owing to the open\nwater which intervened. Two of us were useless for further sledging and\nthe dogs were absolutely done. As time went on anxiety concerning the\nnon-arrival of the Polar Party was added to the alarm we already felt\nabout Campbell and his men; winter was fast closing down, and the weather\nwas bad. So little could be done by two men. What was to be done? When\nwas it to be done with the greatest possible chance of success? Added to\nall his greater anxieties Atkinson had me on his hands--and I was pretty\nill.\n\nIn the end he made two attempts.\n\nThe first with one seaman, Keohane, to sledge out on to the Barrier,\nleaving on March 26. They found the conditions very bad, but reached a\npoint a few miles south of Corner Camp and returned. Soon after we knew\nthe Southern Party must be dead.\n\nNothing more could be done until communication was effected with Winter\nQuarters at Cape Evans. This was done by a sledge journey over the newly\nfrozen ice in the bays on April 10. Help arrived at Hut Point on April\n14.\n\nThe second attempt was then made, and this consisted of a party of four\nmen who tried to sledge up the Western Coast in order to meet and help\nCampbell if he was trying to sledge to us. This plucky attempt failed, as\nindeed it was practically certain it would.\n\nThe story of the winter that followed will be told, and of the decision\nwhich had to be taken to abandon either the search for the Polar Party\n(who must be dead) and their records, or Campbell and his men (who might\nbe alive). There were not enough men left to do both. We believed that\nthe Polar Party had come to grief through scurvy, or through falling into\na crevasse--the true solution never occurred to us, for we felt sure that\nexcept for accident or disease they could find their way home without\ndifficulty. We decided to leave Campbell to find his way unaided down the\ncoast, and to try and find the Polar Party's records. To our amazement we\nfound their snowed-up tent some 140 geographical miles from Hut Point,\nonly 11 geographical miles from One Ton Camp. They had arrived there on\nMarch 19. Inside the tent were the bodies of Scott, Wilson and Bowers.\nOates had willingly walked out to his death some eighteen miles before in\na blizzard. Seaman Evans lay dead at the bottom of the Beardmore Glacier.\n\n * * * * *\n\nHaving found the bodies and the records the Search Party returned,\nproposing to make their way up the Western Coast in search of Campbell.\nOn arrival at Hut Point with the dog-teams, I must have gone to open the\nhut door and found pinned on to it a note in Campbell's handwriting; but\nmy recollection of this apparently memorable incident is extraordinarily\nvague. It was many long months since we had had good news. This was their\nstory.\n\nWhen Campbell originally landed at Evans Coves he brought with him\nsledging provisions for six weeks, in addition to two weeks' provisions\nfor six men, 56 lbs. sugar, 24 lbs. cocoa, 36 lbs. chocolate and 210 lbs.\nof biscuit, some Oxo and spare clothing. In short, after the sledge work\nwhich they proposed, and actually carried out, the men were left with\nskeleton rations for four weeks. They had also a spare tent and an extra\nsleeping-bag. It was not seriously anticipated that the ship would have\ngreat difficulty in picking them up in the latter half of February.\n\nCampbell's party had carried out successful sledging and useful\ngeological work in the region of Evans Coves. They had then camped on the\nbeach and looked for the ship to relieve them. There was open water\nlashed to fury by the wind so far as they could see, and yet she did not\ncome. They concluded that she must have been wrecked. The actual fact was\nthat thick pack ice lay beyond their vision through which Pennell was\ntrying to drive his ship time after time, until he had either to go or to\nbe frozen in. He never succeeded in approaching nearer than 27 miles.\n\nIt was now that a blizzard wind started to blow down from the plateau\nbehind them out into the continually open sea in front. The situation was\nbad enough already, but of course such weather conditions made it\ninfinitely worse. Evans Coves is paved with boulders over which all\njourneys had to be fought leaning against the wind as it blew: when a\nlull came the luckless traveller fell forward on to his face. Under these\ncircumstances it was decided that preparations must be made to winter\nwhere they were, and to sledge down the coast to Cape Evans in the\nfollowing spring. The alternative of sledging down the coast in March and\nApril never seems to have been seriously considered. At Hut Point, of\ncourse, we were entirely in the dark as to what the party would do, hence\nAtkinson's journey over to the western side in April 1912.\n\nMeanwhile the stranded men divided into two parties of three men each.\nThe first under Campbell sank a shaft six feet down into a large\nsnow-drift and thence, with pick and shovel, excavated a passage and at\nthe end of it a cave, twelve feet by nine feet, and five feet six inches\nhigh. The second under Levick sought out and killed all the seal and\npenguin they could find, but their supply was pitifully small, and the\nmen never had a full meal until mid-winter night. One man always had to\nbe left to look after the tents, which were already so worn and damaged\nthat it was unsafe to leave them in the wind.\n\nBy March 17 the cave was sufficiently advanced for three men to move in.\nPriestley must tell how this was done, but it should not be supposed that\nthe weather conditions were in any way abnormal on what they afterwards\ncalled Inexpressible Island:\n\n\"March 17. 7 P.M. Strong south-west breeze all day, freshening to a full\ngale at night. We have had an awful day, but have managed to shift\nenough gear into the cave to live there temporarily. Our tempers have\nnever been so tried during the whole of our life together, but they have\nstood the strain pretty successfully.... May I never have such another\nthree trips as were those to-day. Every time the wind lulled a little I\nfell over to windward, and at every gust I was pitched to leeward, while\na dozen times or more I was taken off my feet and dashed against the\nground or against unfriendly boulders. The other two had equally bad\ntimes. Dickason hurt his knee and ankle and lost his sheath knife, and\nCampbell lost a compass and some revolver cartridges in the two trips\nthey made. Altogether it was lucky we got across at all.\"[26]\n\nIt was a fortunate thing that this wind often blew quite clear without\nsnowfall or drift. Two days later in the same gale the tent of the other\nthree men collapsed on top of them at 8 A.M. At 4 P.M. the sun was going\ndown and they settled to make their way across to their comrades. Levick\ntells the story as follows:\n\n\"Having done this [securing the remains of the tent, etc.], we started on\nour journey. This lay, first of all, across half a mile of clear blue\nice, swept by the unbroken wind, which met us almost straight in the\nface. We could never stand up, so had to scramble the whole distance on\n'all fours,' lying flat on our bellies in the gusts. By the time we had\nreached the other side we had had enough. Our faces had been rather badly\nbitten, and I have a very strong recollection of the men's countenances,\nwhich were a leaden blue, streaked with white patches of frost-bite. Once\nacross, however, we reached the shelter of some large boulders on the\nshore of the island, and waited here long enough to thaw out our noses,\nears, and cheeks. A scramble of another six hundred yards brought us to\nthe half-finished igloo, into which we found that the rest of the party\nhad barricaded themselves, and, after a little shouting, they came and\nlet us in, giving us a warm welcome, and about the most welcome hot meal\nthat I think any of us had ever eaten.\"\n\n[Illustration: PRIESTLEY AND CAMPBELL]\n\nPriestley continues:\n\n\"After the arrival of the evicted party we made hoosh, and as we warmed\nup from the meal, we cheered up and had one of the most successful\nsing-songs we had ever had forgetting all our troubles for an hour or\ntwo. It is a pleasing picture to look back upon now, and, if I close my\neyes, I can see again the little cave cut out in snow and ice with the\ntent flapping in the doorway, barely secured by ice-axe and shovel\narranged crosswise against the side of the shaft. The cave is lighted up\nwith three or four small blubber lamps, which give a soft yellow light.\nAt one end lie Campbell, Dickason and myself in our sleeping-bags,\nresting after the day's work, and, opposite to us, on a raised dais\nformed by a portion of the floor not yet levelled, Levick, Browning and\nAbbott sit discussing their seal hoosh, while the primus hums cheerily\nunder the cooker containing the coloured water which served with us\ninstead of cocoa. As the diners warm up jests begin to fly between the\nrival tents and the interchange is brisk, though we have the upper hand\nto-day, having an inexhaustible subject in the recent disaster to their\ntent, and their forced abandonment of their household gods. Suddenly some\none starts a song with a chorus, and the noise from the primus is dwarfed\nimmediately. One by one we go through our favourites, and the concert\nlasts for a couple of hours. By this time the lamps are getting low, and\ngradually the cold begins to overcome the effects of the hoosh and the\ncocoa. One after another the singers begin to shiver, and all thoughts of\nsong disappear as we realize what we are in for. A night with one one-man\nbag between two men! There is a whole world of discomfort in the very\nthought, and no one feels inclined to jest about that for the moment.\nThose jests will come all right to-morrow when the night is safely past,\nbut this evening it is anything but a cheery subject of contemplation.\nThere is no help for it, however, and each of us prepares to take another\nman in so far as he can.\"[27]\n\nIn such spirit and under very similar conditions this dauntless party\nset about passing through one of the most horrible winters which God has\ninvented. They were very hungry, for the wind which kept the sea open\nalso made the shore almost impossible for seals. There were red-letter\ndays, however, such as when Browning found and killed a seal, and in its\nstomach, \"not too far digested to be still eatable,\" were thirty-six\nfish. And what visions of joy for the future. \"We never again found a\nseal with an eatable meal inside him, but we were always hoping to do so,\nand a kill was, therefore, always a gamble. Whenever a seal was sighted\nin future, some one said, 'Fish!' and there was always a scramble to\nsearch the beast first.\"[28]\n\nThey ate blubber, cooked with blubber, had blubber lamps. Their clothes\nand gear were soaked with blubber, and the soot blackened them, their\nsleeping-bags, cookers, walls and roof, choked their throats and inflamed\ntheir eyes. Blubbery clothes are cold, and theirs were soon so torn as to\nafford little protection against the wind, and so stiff with blubber that\nthey would stand up by themselves, in spite of frequent scrapings with\nknives and rubbings with penguin skins, and always there were underfoot\nthe great granite boulders which made walking difficult even in daylight\nand calm weather. As Levick said, \"the road to hell might be paved with\ngood intentions, but it seemed probable that hell itself would be paved\nsomething after the style of Inexpressible Island.\"\n\nBut there were consolations; the long-waited-for lump of sugar: the\nsing-songs--and about these there hangs a story. When Campbell's Party\nand the remains of the Main Party forgathered at Cape Evans in November\n1912, Campbell would give out the hymns for Church. The first Sunday we\nhad 'Praise the Lord, ye heavens adore Him,' and the second, and the\nthird. We suggested a change, to which Campbell asked, \"Why?\" We said it\ngot a bit monotonous. \"Oh no,\" said Campbell, \"we always sang it on\nInexpressible Island.\" It was also about the only one he knew. Apart from\nthis I do not know whether 'Old King Cole' or the Te Deum was more\npopular. For reading they had David Copperfield, the Decameron, the Life\nof Stevenson and a New Testament. And they did Swedish drill, and they\ngave lectures.\n\nTheir worst difficulties were scurvy[29] and ptomaine poisoning, for\nwhich the enforced diet was responsible. From the first they decided to\nkeep nearly all their unused rations for sledging down the coast in the\nfollowing spring, and this meant that they must live till then on the\nseal and penguin which they could kill. The first dysentery was early in\nthe winter, and was caused by using the salt from the sea-water. They had\nsome Cerebos salt, however, in their sledging rations, and used it for a\nweek, which stopped the disorder and they gradually got used to the\nsea-ice salt. Browning, however, who had had enteric fever in the past,\nhad dysentery almost continually right through the winter. Had he not\nbeen the plucky, cheerful man he is, he would have died.\n\nIn June again there was another bad attack of dysentery. Another thing\nwhich worried them somewhat was the 'igloo back,' a semi-permanent kink\ncaused by seldom being able to stand upright.\n\nThen, in the beginning of September, they had ptomaine poisoning from\nmeat which had been too long in what they called the oven, which was a\nbiscuit box, hung over the blubber stove, into which they placed the\nfrozen meat to thaw it out. This oven was found to be not quite level,\nand in a corner a pool of old blood, water and scraps of meat had\ncollected. This and a tainted hoosh which they did not have the strength\nof mind to throw away in their hungry condition, seems to have caused the\noutbreak, which was severe. Browning and Dickason were especially bad.\n\nThey had their bad days: those first days of realization that they would\nnot be relieved: days of depression, disease and hunger, all at once:\nwhen the seal seemed as if they would give out and they were thinking\nthey would have to travel down the coast in the winter--but Abbott killed\ntwo seals with a greasy knife, losing the use of three fingers in the\nprocess, and saved the situation.\n\nBut they also had their good, or less-bad, days: such was mid-winter\nnight when they held food in their hands and did not want to eat it, for\nthey were full: or when they got through the Te Deum without a hitch: or\nwhen they killed some penguins; or got a ration of mustard plaster from\nthe medical stores.\n\nNever was a more cheerful or good-tempered party. They set out to see the\nhumorous side of everything, and, if they could not do so one day, at any\nrate they determined to see to it the next. What is more they succeeded,\nand I have never seen a company of better welded men than that which\njoined us for those last two months in McMurdo Sound.\n\nOn September 30 they started home--so they called it. This meant a sledge\njourney of some two hundred miles along the coast, and its possibility\ndepended upon the presence of sea-ice, which we have seen to have been\nabsent at Evans Coves. It also meant crossing the Drygalski Ice Tongue,\nan obstacle which bulked very formidably in their imaginations during the\nwinter. They reached the last rise of this glacier in the evening of\nOctober 10, and then saw Erebus, one hundred and fifty miles off. The\nigloo and the past were behind: Cape Evans and the future were in\nfront--and the sea-ice was in as far as they could see.\n\nDickason was half crippled with dysentery when they started, but\nimproved. Browning, however, was still very ill, but now they were able\nto eat a ration of four biscuits a day and a small amount of pemmican and\ncocoa which gave him a better chance than the continual meat. As they\nneared Granite Harbour, a month after starting, his condition was so\nserious that they discussed leaving him there with Levick until they\ncould get medicine and suitable food from Cape Evans.\n\nBut their troubles were nearly over, for on reaching Cape Roberts they\nsuddenly sighted the depôt left by Taylor in the previous year. They\nsearched round, like dogs, scratching in the drifts, and found--a whole\ncase of biscuits: and there were butter and raisins and lard. Day and\nnight merged into one long lingering feast, and when they started on\nagain their mouths were sore[30] with eating biscuits. More, there is\nlittle doubt that the change of diet saved Browning's life. As they moved\ndown the coast they found another depôt, and yet another. They reached\nHut Point on November 5.\n\nThe story of this, our Northern Party, has been told in full by the two\nmen most able to tell it: by Campbell in the second volume of Scott's\nbook, by Priestley in a separate volume called Antarctic Adventure.[31] I\nhave added only these few pages because, save in so far as their\nadventures touch the Main Party or the Ship, it is better that I should\nrefer the reader to these two accounts than that I should try and write\nagain at second hand what has been already twice told. I will only say\nhere that the history of what these men did and suffered has been\novershadowed by the more tragic tale of the Polar Party. They are not men\nwho wish for public applause, but that is no reason why the story of a\ngreat adventure should not be known; indeed, it is all the more reason\nwhy it should be known. To those who have not read it I recommend\nPriestley's book mentioned above, or Campbell's equally modest account in\nScott's Last Expedition.[32]\n\nThe Terra Nova arrived at Cape Evans on January 18, 1913, just as we had\nstarted to prepare for another year. And so the remains of the expedition\ncame home that spring. Scott's book was published in the autumn.\n\nThe story of Scott's Last Expedition of 1910-13 is a book of two volumes,\nthe first volume of which is Scott's personal diary of the expedition,\nwritten from day to day before he turned into his sleeping-bag for the\nnight when sledging, or in the intervals of the many details of\norganization and preparation in the hut, when at Winter Quarters. The\nreaders of this book will probably have read that diary and the accounts\nof the Winter Journey, the last year, the adventures of Campbell's Party\nand the travels of the Terra Nova which follow. With an object which I\nwill explain presently I quote a review of Scott's book from the pen of\none of Mr. Punch's staff:[33]\n\n\"There is courage and strength and loyalty and love shining out of the\nsecond volume no less than out of the first; there were gallant gentlemen\nwho lived as well as gallant gentlemen who died; but it is the story of\nScott, told by himself, which will give the book a place among the great\nbooks of the world. That story begins in November 1910, and ends on March\n29, 1912, and it is because when you come to the end, you will have lived\nwith Scott for sixteen months, that you will not be able to read the last\npages without tears. That message to the public was heartrending enough\nwhen it first came to us, but it was as the story of how a great hero\nfell that we read it; now it is just the tale of how a dear friend died.\nTo have read this book is to have known Scott; and if I were asked to\ndescribe him, I think I should use some such words as those which, six\nmonths before he died, he used of the gallant gentleman who went with\nhim, 'Bill' Wilson. 'Words must always fail when I talk of him,' he\nwrote; 'I believe he is the finest character I ever met--the closer one\ngets to him the more there is to admire. Every quality is so solid and\ndependable. Whatever the matter, one knows Bill will be sound, shrewdly\npractical, intensely loyal, and quite unselfish.' That is true of Wilson,\nif Scott says so, for he knew men; but most of it is also true of Scott\nhimself. I have never met a more beautiful character than that which is\nrevealed unconsciously in these journals. His humanity, his courage, his\nfaith, his steadfastness, above all, his simplicity, mark him as a man\namong men. It is because of his simplicity that his last message, the\nlast entries in his diary, his last letters, are of such undying beauty.\nThe letter of consolation (and almost of apology) which, on the verge of\ndeath, he wrote to Mrs. Wilson, wife of the man dying at his side, may\nwell be Scott's monument. He could have no finer. And he has raised a\nmonument for those other gallant gentlemen who died--Wilson, Oates,\nBowers, Evans. They are all drawn for us clearly by him in these pages;\nthey stand out unmistakably. They, too, come to be friends of ours, their\ndeath is as noble and as heartbreaking. And there were gallant gentlemen,\nI said, who lived--you may read amazing stories of them. Indeed, it is a\nwonderful tale of manliness that these two volumes tell us. I put them\ndown now; but I have been for a few days in the company of the brave ...\nand every hour with them has made me more proud for those that died and\nmore humble for myself.\"\n\nI have quoted this review at length, because it gives the atmosphere of\nhero-worship into which we were plunged on our return. That atmosphere\nwas very agreeable; but it was a refracting medium through which the\nexpedition could not be seen with scientific accuracy--and the expedition\nwas nothing if not scientific. Whilst we knew what we had suffered and\nrisked better than any one else, we also knew that science takes no\naccount of such things; that a man is no better for having made the worst\njourney in the world; and that whether he returns alive or drops by the\nway will be all the same a hundred years hence if his records and\nspecimens come safely to hand.\n\nIn addition to Scott's Last Expedition and Priestley's Antarctic\nAdventures, Griffith Taylor, who was physiographer to the Main Party, has\nwritten an account of the two geological journeys of which he was the\nleader, and of the domestic life of the expedition at Hut Point and at\nCape Evans, up to February 1912, in a book called With Scott: The Silver\nLining. This book gives a true glimpse into the more boisterous side of\nour life, with much useful information about the scientific part.\n\nThough it bears little upon this book I cannot refrain from drawing the\nreader's attention to, and earning some of his thanks for, a little book\ncalled Antarctic Penguins, written by Levick, the Surgeon of Campbell's\nParty. It is almost entirely about Adélie penguins. The author spent the\ngreater part of a summer living, as it were, upon sufferance, in the\nmiddle of one of the largest penguin rookeries in the world. He has\ndescribed the story of their crowded life with a humour with which,\nperhaps, we hardly credited him, and with a simplicity which many writers\nof children's stories might envy. If you think your own life hard, and\nwould like to leave it for a short hour I recommend you to beg, borrow or\nsteal this tale, and read and see how the penguins live. It is all quite\ntrue.\n\nSo there is already a considerable literature about the expedition, but\nno connected account of it as a whole. Scott's diary, had he lived, would\nmerely have formed the basis of the book he would have written. As his\npersonal diary it has an interest which no other book could have had. But\na diary in this life is one of the only ways in which a man can blow off\nsteam, and so it is that Scott's book accentuates the depression which\nused to come over him sometimes.\n\nWe have seen the importance which must attach to the proper record of\nimprovements, weights and methods of each and every expedition. We have\nseen how Scott took the system developed by the Arctic Explorers at the\npoint of development to which it had been brought by Nansen, and applied\nit for the first time to Antarctic sledge travelling. Scott's Voyage of\nthe Discovery gives a vivid picture of mistakes rectified, and of\nimprovements of every kind. Shackleton applied the knowledge they gained\nin his first expedition, Scott in this, his second and last. On the whole\nI believe this expedition was the best equipped there has ever been, when\nthe double purpose, exploratory and scientific, for which it was\norganized, is taken into consideration. It is comparatively easy to put\nall your eggs into one basket, to organize your material and to equip and\nchoose your men entirely for one object, whether it be the attainment of\nthe Pole, or the running of a perfect series of scientific observations.\nYour difficulties increase many-fold directly you combine the one with\nthe other, as was done in this case. Neither Scott nor the men with him\nwould have gone for the Pole alone. Yet they considered the Pole to be an\nachievement worthy of a great attempt, and \"We took risks, we knew we\ntook them; things have come out against us, and therefore we have no\ncause for complaint....\"\n\nIt is, it must be, of the first importance that a system, I will not say\nperfected, but developed, to a pitch of high excellence at such a cost\nshould be handed down as completely as possible to those who are to\nfollow. I want to so tell this story that the leader of some future\nAntarctic expedition, perhaps more than one, will be able to take it up\nand say: \"I have here the material from which I can order the articles\nand quantities which will be wanted for so many men for such and such a\ntime; I have also a record of how this material was used by Scott, of the\nplans of his journeys and how his plans worked out, and of the\nimprovements which his parties were able to make on the spot or suggest\nfor the future. I don't agree with such and such, but this is a\nfoundation and will save me many months of work in preparation, and give\nme useful knowledge for the actual work of my expedition.\" If this book\ncan guide the future explorer by the light of the past, it will not have\nbeen written in vain.\n\nBut this was not my main object in writing this book. When I undertook in\n1913 to write, for the Antarctic Committee, an Official Narrative on\ncondition that I was given a free hand, what I wanted to do above all\nthings was to show what work was done; who did it; to whom the credit of\nthe work was due; who took the responsibility; who did the hard sledging;\nand who pulled us through that last and most ghastly year when two\nparties were adrift, and God only knew what was best to be done; when,\nhad things gone on much longer, men would undoubtedly have gone mad.\nThere is no record of these things, though perhaps the world thinks there\nis. Generally as a mere follower, without much responsibility, and often\nscared out of my wits, I was in the thick of it all, and I know.\n\nUnfortunately I could not reconcile a sincere personal confession with\nthe decorous obliquity of an Official Narrative; and I found that I had\nput the Antarctic Committee in a difficulty from which I could rescue\nthem only by taking the book off their hands; for it was clear that what\nI had written was not what is expected from a Committee, even though no\nmember may disapprove of a word of it. A proper Official Narrative\npresented itself to our imaginations and sense of propriety as a quarto\nvolume, uniform with the scientific reports, dustily invisible on Museum\nshelves, and replete with--in the words of my Commission--\"times of\nstarting, hours of march, ground and weather conditions,\" not very useful\nas material for future Antarcticists, and in no wise effecting any\ncatharsis of the writer's conscience. I could not pretend that I had\nfulfilled these conditions; and so I decided to take the undivided\nresponsibility on my own shoulders. None the less the Committee, having\ngiven me access to its information, is entitled to all the credit of a\nformal Official Narrative, without the least responsibility for the\npassages which I have studied to make as personal in style as possible,\nso that no greater authority may be attached to them than I deserve.\n\nI need hardly add that the nine years' delay in the appearance of my book\nwas caused by the war. Before I had recovered from the heavy overdraft\nmade on my strength by the expedition I found myself in Flanders looking\nafter a fleet of armoured cars. A war is like the Antarctic in one\nrespect. There is no getting out of it with honour as long as you can put\none foot before the other. I came back badly invalided; and the book had\nto wait accordingly.\n\n[Illustration: FROM NEW ZEALAND TO THE SOUTH POLE--Apsley Cherry-Garrard,\ndel.--Emery Walker Ltd., Collotypers.]\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n [1] Cook, _A Voyage towards the South Pole_, Introduction.\n\n [2] Cook, _A Voyage towards the South Pole_, vol. i. p. 23.\n\n [3] Ibid. p. 28.\n\n [4] Cook, _A Voyage towards the South Pole_, vol. i. p. 268.\n\n [5] Ibid. p. 275.\n\n [6] Scott, _Voyage of the Discovery_, vol. i. p. 9.\n\n [7] Ibid. p. 14.\n\n [8] Ross, _Voyage to the Southern Seas_, vol. i. p. 117.\n\n [9] Ross, _Voyage to the Southern Seas_, vol. i. pp. 216-218.\n\n [10] Ross, _Voyage to the Southern Seas_, vol. i. pp. 244-245.\n\n [11] Leonard Huxley, _Life of Sir J. D. Hooker_, vol. ii. p. 443.\n\n [12] Ibid. p. 441.\n\n [13] Nansen, _Farthest North_, vol. i. p. 52.\n\n [14] Nansen, _Farthest North_, vol. ii. pp. 19-20.\n\n [15] Scott, _Voyage of the Discovery_, vol. i. p. 229.\n\n [16] Scott, _Voyage of the Discovery_, vol. i. p. vii.\n\n [17] Ibid. p. 273.\n\n [18] See Scott, _Voyage of the Discovery_, vol. ii. pp. 5, 6, 490.\n\n [19] Wilson, _Nat. Ant. Exp., 1901-1904_, \"Zoology,\" Part ii. pp.\n 8-9.\n\n [20] Wilson, _Nat. Ant. Exp., 1901-1904_, \"Zoology,\" Part ii. p.\n 31.\n\n [21] Scott, _Voyage of the Discovery_, vol. ii. p. 327.\n\n [22] Scott, _The Voyage of the Discovery_, vol. ii. pp. 347-348.\n\n [23] See pp. 128-134.\n\n [24] See pp. xxxi-xxxii.\n\n [25] See p. xxviii.\n\n [26] Priestley, _Antarctic Adventure_, pp. 232-233.\n\n [27] Priestley, _Antarctic Adventure_, pp. 236-237.\n\n [28] Priestley, _Antarctic Adventure_, p. 243.\n\n [29] Atkinson has no doubt that the symptoms of the Northern Party\n were those of early scurvy. Conditions of temperature in the\n igloo allowed of decomposition occurring in seal meat. Fresh\n seal meat brought in from outside reduced the scurvy\n symptoms.\n\n [30] This tenderness of gums and tongue is additional evidence of\n scurvy.\n\n [31] Published by Fisher Unwin, 1914.\n\n [32] Vol. ii., Narrative of the Northern Party.\n\n [33] A. A. Milne.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nFROM ENGLAND TO SOUTH AFRICA\n\n Take a bowsy short leave of your nymphs on the shore,\n And silence their mourning with vows of returning,\n Though never intending to visit them more.\n _Dido and Aeneas._\n\n\nScott used to say that the worst part of an expedition was over when the\npreparation was finished. So no doubt it was with a sigh of relief that\nhe saw the Terra Nova out from Cardiff into the Atlantic on June 15,\n1910. Cardiff had given the expedition a most generous and enthusiastic\nsend-off, and Scott announced that it should be his first port on\nreturning to England. Just three years more and the Terra Nova, worked\nback from New Zealand by Pennell, reached Cardiff again on June 14, 1913,\nand paid off there.\n\nFrom the first everything was informal and most pleasant, and those who\nhad the good fortune to help in working the ship out to New Zealand,\nunder steam or sail, must, in spite of five months of considerable\ndiscomfort and very hard work, look back upon the voyage as one of the\nvery happiest times of the expedition. To some of us perhaps the voyage\nout, the three weeks in the pack ice going South, and the Robinson Crusoe\nlife at Hut Point are the pleasantest of many happy memories.\n\nScott made a great point that so far as was possible the personnel of the\nexpedition must go out with the Terra Nova. Possibly he gave\ninstructions that they were to be worked hard, and no doubt it was a good\nopportunity of testing our mettle. We had been chosen out of 8000\nvolunteers, executive officers, scientific staff, crew, and all.\n\nWe differed entirely from the crew of an ordinary merchant ship both in\nour personnel and in our methods of working. The executive officers were\ndrawn from the Navy, as were also the crew. In addition there was the\nscientific staff, including one doctor who was not a naval surgeon, but\nwho was also a scientist, and two others called by Scott 'adaptable\nhelpers,' namely Oates and myself. The scientific staff of the expedition\nnumbered twelve members all told, but only six were on board: the\nremainder were to join the ship at Lyttelton, New Zealand, when we made\nour final embarcation for the South. Of those on the ship Wilson was\nchief of the scientific staff, and united in himself the various\nfunctions of vertebral zoologist, doctor, artist, and, as this book will\nsoon show, the unfailing friend-in-need of all on board. Lieutenant Evans\nwas in command, with Campbell as first officer. Watches were of course\nassigned immediately to the executive officers. The crew was divided into\na port and starboard watch, and the ordinary routine of a sailing ship\nwith auxiliary steam was followed. Beyond this no work was definitely\nassigned to any individual on board. How the custom of the ship arose I\ndo not know, but in effect most things were done by volunteer labour. It\nwas recognized that every one whose work allowed turned to immediately on\nany job which was wanted, but it was an absolutely voluntary\nduty--Volunteers to shorten sail? To coal? To shift cargo? To pump? To\npaint or wash down paintwork? They were constant calls--some of them\nalmost hourly calls, day and night--and there was never any failure to\nrespond fully. This applied not only to the scientific staff but also,\nwhenever their regular duties allowed, to the executive officers. There\nwasn't an officer on the ship who did not shift coal till he was sick of\nthe sight of it, but I heard no complaints. Such a system soon singles\nout the real willing workers, but it is apt to put an undue strain upon\nthem. Meanwhile most of the executive officers as well as the scientific\nstaff had their own work to do, which they were left to fit in as most\nconvenient.\n\nThe first days out from England were spent in such hard and crowded work\nthat we shook down very quickly. I then noticed for the first time\nWilson's great gift of tact, and how quick he was to see the small things\nwhich make so much difference. At the same time his passion for work set\na high standard. Pennell was another glutton.\n\nWe dropped anchor in Funchal Harbour, Madeira, about 4 P.M. on June 23,\neight days out. The ship had already been running under sail and steam,\nthe decks were as clear as possible, there was some paintwork to show,\nand with a good harbour stow she looked thoroughly workmanlike and neat.\nSome scientific work, in particular tow netting and magnetic\nobservations, had already been done. But even as early as this we had\nspent hours on the pumps, and it was evident that these pumps were going\nto be a constant nightmare.\n\nIn Madeira, as everywhere, we were given freely of such things as we\nrequired. We left in the early morning of June 26, after Pennell had done\nsome hours' magnetic work with the Lloyd Creak and Barrow Dip Circle.\n\nOn June 29 (noon position lat. 27° 10´ N., long. 20° 21´ W.) it was\npossible to write: \"A fortnight out to-day, and from the general\nappearance of the wardroom we might have been out a year.\"\n\nWe were to a great extent strangers to one another when we left England,\nbut officers and crew settled down to their jobs quickly, and when men\nlive as close as we did they settle down or quarrel before very long. Let\nus walk into the cabins which surround the small wardroom aft. The first\non the left is that of Scott and Lieutenant Evans, but Scott is not on\nboard, and Wilson has taken his place. In the next cabin to them is\nDrake, the secretary. On the starboard side of the screw are Oates,\nAtkinson and Levick, the two latter being doctors, and on the port side\nCampbell and Pennell, who is navigator. Then Rennick and Bowers, the\nlatter just home from the Persian Gulf--both of these are watchkeepers.\nIn the next cabin are Simpson, meteorologist, back from Simla, with\nNelson and Lillie, marine biologists. In the last cabin, the Nursery, are\nthe youngest, and necessarily the best behaved, of this community,\nWright, the physicist and chemist, Gran the Norwegian ski-expert, and\nmyself, Wilson's helper and assistant zoologist. It is difficult to put a\nman down as performing any special job where each did so many, but that\nis roughly what we were.\n\nCertain men already began to stand out. Wilson, with an apparently\ninexhaustible stock of knowledge on little things and big; always ready\nto give help, and always ready with sympathy and insight, a tremendous\nworker, and as unselfish as possible; a universal adviser. Pennell, as\nhappy as the day was long, working out sights, taking his watch on the\nbridge, or if not on watch full of energy aloft, trimming coal, or any\nother job that came along; withal spending hours a day on magnetic work,\nwhich he did as a hobby, and not in any way as his job. Bowers was\nproving himself the best seaman on board, with an exact knowledge of the\nwhereabouts and contents of every case, box and bale, and with a supreme\ncontempt for heat or cold. Simpson was obviously a first-class scientist,\ndevoted to his work, in which Wright gave him very great and unselfish\nhelp, while at the same time doing much of the ship's work. Oates and\nAtkinson generally worked together in a solid, dependable and somewhat\nhumorous way.\n\nEvans, who will always be called Lieutenant Evans in this book to\ndistinguish him from Seaman Evans, was in charge of the ship, and did\nmuch to cement together the rough material into a nucleus which was\ncapable of standing without any friction the strains of nearly three\nyears of crowded, isolated and difficult life, ably seconded by Victor\nCampbell, first officer, commonly called The Mate, in whose hands the\nroutine and discipline of the ship was most efficiently maintained. I was\nvery frightened of Campbell.\n\nScott himself was unable to travel all the way out to New Zealand in the\nTerra Nova owing to the business affairs of the expedition, but he\njoined the ship from Simon's Bay to Melbourne.\n\nThe voyage itself on the sailing track from Madeira to the Cape was at\nfirst uneventful. We soon got into hot weather, and at night every\navailable bit of deck space was used on which to sleep. The more\nparticular slung hammocks, but generally men used such deck space as they\ncould find, such as the top of the icehouse, where they were free from\nthe running tackle, and rolled themselves into their blankets. So long as\nwe had a wind we ran under sail alone, and on those days men would bathe\nover the side in the morning, but when the engines were going we could\nget the hose in the morning, which was preferred, especially after a\nshark was seen making for Bowers' red breast as he swam.\n\nThe scene on deck in the early morning was always interesting. All hands\nwere roused before six and turned on to the pumps, for the ship was\nleaking considerably. Normally, the well showed about ten inches of water\nwhen the ship was dry. Before pumping, the sinker would show anything\nover two feet. The ship was generally dry after an hour to an hour and a\nhalf's pumping, and by that time we had had quite enough of it. As soon\nas the officer of the watch had given the order, \"Vast pumping,\" the\nfirst thing to do was to strip, and the deck was dotted with men trying\nto get the maximum amount of water from the sea in a small bucket let\ndown on a line from the moving ship. First efforts in this direction\nwould have been amusing had it not been for the caustic eye of the 'Mate'\non the bridge. If the reader ever gets the chance to try the experiment,\nespecially in a swell, he will soon find himself with neither bucket nor\nwater. The poor Mate was annoyed by the loss of his buckets.\n\nEverybody was working very hard during these days; shifting coal, reefing\nand furling sail aloft, hauling on the ropes on deck, together with\nmagnetic and meteorological observations, tow-netting, collecting and\nmaking skins and so forth. During the first weeks there was more cargo\nstowing and paintwork than at other times, otherwise the work ran in\nvery much the same lines all the way out--a period of nearly five months.\nOn July 1 we were overhauled by the only ship we ever saw, so far as I\ncan remember, during all that time, the Inverclyde, a barque out from\nGlasgow to Buenos Ayres. It was an oily, calm day with a sea like glass,\nand she looked, as Wilson quoted, \"like a painted ship upon a painted\nocean,\" as she lay with all sail set.\n\nWe picked up the N.E. Trade two days later, being then north of the Cape\nVerde Islands (lat. 22° 28´ N., long. 23° 5´ W. at noon). It was a\nSunday, and there was a general 'make and mend' throughout the ship, the\nfirst since we sailed. During the day we ran from deep clear blue water\ninto a darkish and thick green sea. This remarkable change of colour,\nwhich was observed by the Discovery Expedition in much the same place,\nwas supposed to be due to a large mass of pelagic fauna called plankton.\nThe plankton, which drifts upon the surface of the sea, is distinct from\nthe nekton, which swims submerged. The Terra Nova was fitted with tow\nnets with very fine meshes for collecting these inhabitants of the open\nsea, together with the algae, or minute plant organisms, which afford\nthem an abundant food supply.\n\nThe plankton nets can be lowered when the ship is running at full speed,\nand a great many such hauls were made during the expedition.\n\nJuly 5 had an unpleasant surprise in store. At 10.30 A.M. the ship's bell\nrang and there was a sudden cry of \"Fire quarters.\" Two Minimax fire\nextinguishers finished the fire, which was in the lazarette, and was\ncaused by a lighted lamp which was upset by the roll of the ship. The\nresult was a good deal of smoke, a certain amount of water below, and\nsome singed paper, but we realized that a fire on such an old wooden ship\nwould be a very serious matter, and greater care was taken after this.\n\nSuch a voyage shows Nature in her most attractive form, and always there\nwas a man close by whose special knowledge was in the whales, porpoises,\ndolphins, fish, birds, parasites, plankton, radium and other things which\nwe watched through microscopes or field-glasses. Nelson caught a\nPortuguese man-of-war (Arethusa) as it sailed past us close under the\ncounter. These animals are common, but few can realize how beautiful they\nare until they see them, fresh-coloured from the deep sea, floating and\nsailing in a big glass bowl. It vainly tried to sail out, and vigorously\ntried to sting all who touched it. Wilson painted it.\n\nFrom first to last the study of life of all kinds was of absorbing\ninterest to all on board, and, when we landed in the Antarctic, as well\nas on the ship, everybody worked and was genuinely interested in all that\nlived and had its being on the fringe of that great sterile continent.\nNot only did officers who had no direct interest in anything but their\nown particular work or scientific subject spend a large part of their\ntime in helping, making notes and keeping observations, but the seamen\nalso had a large share in the specimens and data of all descriptions\nwhich have been brought back. Several of them became good pupils for\nskinning birds.\n\nMeanwhile, perhaps the constant cries of \"Whale, whale!\" or \"New bird!\"\nor \"Dolphins!\" sometimes found the biologist concerned less eager to\nleave his meal than the observers were to call him forth. Good\nopportunities of studying the life of sea birds, whales, dolphins and\nother forms of life in the sea, even those comparatively few forms which\nare visible from the surface, are not too common. A modern liner moves so\nquickly that it does not attract life to it in the same way as a\nslow-moving ship like the Terra Nova, and when specimens are seen they\nare gone almost as soon as they are observed. Those who wish to study sea\nlife--and there is much to be done in this field--should travel by tramp\nsteamers, or, better still, sailing vessels.\n\nDolphins were constantly playing under the bows of the ship, giving a\nvery good chance for identification, and whales were also frequently\nsighted, and would sometimes follow the ship, as did also hundreds of sea\nbirds, petrels, shearwaters and albatross. It says much for the interest\nand keenness of the officers on board that a complete hourly log was\nkept from beginning to end of the numbers and species which were seen,\ngenerally with the most complete notes as to any peculiarity or habit\nwhich was noticed. It is to be hoped that full use will be made, by those\nin charge of the working out of these results, of these logs which were\nkept so thoroughly and sometimes under such difficult circumstances and\nconditions of weather and sea. Though many helped, this log was largely\nthe work of Pennell, who was an untiring and exact observer.\n\nWe lost the N.E. Trade about July 7, and ran into the Doldrums. On the\nwhole we could not complain of the weather. We never had a gale or big\nsea until after leaving South Trinidad, and though an old ship with no\nmodern ventilation is bound to be stuffy in the tropics, we lived and\nslept on deck so long as it was not raining. If it rained at night, as it\nfrequently does in this part of the world, a number of rolled-up forms\ncould be heard discussing as to whether it was best to stick it above or\nface the heat below; and if the rain persisted, sleepy and somewhat\nsnappy individuals were to be seen trying to force themselves and a\nmaximum amount of damp bedding down the wardroom gangway. At the same\ntime a thick wooden ship will keep fairly cool in the not severe heat\nthrough which we passed.\n\nOne want which was unavoidable was the lack of fresh water. There was\nnone to wash in, though a glass of water was allowed for shaving! With an\nunlimited amount of sea water this may not seem much of a hardship; nor\nis it unless you have very dirty work to do. But inasmuch as some of the\nofficers were coaling almost daily, they found that any amount of cold\nsea water, even with a euphemistically named 'sea-water soap,' had no\nvery great effect in removing the coal dust. The alternative was to make\nfriends with the engine-room authorities and draw some water from the\nboilers.\n\nPerhaps therefore it was not with purely disinterested motives that some\nof us undertook to do the stoking during the morning watch, and also\nlater in the day during our passage through the tropics, since the\nengine-room staff was reduced by sickness. A very short time will\nconvince anybody that the ease with which men accustomed to this work get\nthrough their watch is mainly due to custom and method. The ship had no\nforced draught nor modern ventilating apparatus. Four hours in the\nboiling fiery furnace which the Terra Nova's stokehold formed in the\ntropics, unless there was a good wind to blow down the one canvas shaft,\nwas a real test of staying power, and the actual shovelling of the coal\ninto the furnaces, one after the other, was as child's play to handling\nthe 'devil,' as the weighty instrument used for breaking up the clinker\nand shaping the fire was called. The boilers were cylindrical marine or\nreturn tube boilers, the furnaces being six feet long by three feet wide,\nslightly lower at the back than at the front. The fire on the bars was\nkept wedge-shape, that is, some nine inches high at the back, tapering to\nabout six inches in front against the furnace doors. The furnaces were\ncorrugated for strength. We were supposed to keep the pressure on the\ngauge between 70 and 80, but it wanted some doing. For the most part it\nwas done.\n\nWe did, however, get uncomfortable days with the rain sluicing down and a\nhigh temperature--everything wet on deck and below. But it had its\nadvantages in the fresh water it produced. Every bucket was on duty, and\nthe ship's company stripped naked and ran about the decks or sat in the\nstream between the laboratories and wardroom skylight and washed their\nvery dirty clothes. The stream came through into our bunks, and no amount\nof caulking ever stopped it. To sleep with a constant drip of water\nfalling upon you is a real trial. These hot, wet days were more trying to\nthe nerves than the months of wet, rough but cooler weather to come, and\nit says much for the good spirit which prevailed that there was no\nfriction, though we were crowded together like sardines in a tin.\n\nJuly 12 was a typical day (lat. 4° 57´ N., long. 22° 4´ W.). A very hot,\nrainy night, followed by a squall which struck us while we were having\nbreakfast, so we went up and set all sail, which took until about 9.30\nA.M. We then sat in the water on the deck and washed clothes until just\nbefore mid-day, when the wind dropped, though the rain continued. So we\nwent up and furled all sail, a tedious business when the sails are wet\nand heavy. Then work on cargo or coal till 7 P.M., supper, and glad to\nget to sleep.\n\nOn July 15 (lat. 0° 40´ N., long. 21° 56´ W.) we crossed the Line with\nall pomp and ceremony. At 1.15 P.M. Neptune in the person of Seaman Evans\nhailed and stopped the ship. He came on board with his motley company,\nwho solemnly paced aft to the break of the poop, where he was met by\nLieutenant Evans. His wife (Browning), a doctor (Paton), barber\n(Cheetham), two policemen and four bears, of whom Atkinson and Oates were\ntwo, grouped themselves round him while the barrister (Abbott) read an\naddress to the captain, and then the procession moved round to the bath,\na sail full of water slung in the break of the poop on the starboard\nside.\n\nNelson was the first victim. He was examined, then overhauled by the\ndoctor, given a pill and a dose, and handed over to the barber, who\nlathered him with a black mixture consisting of soot, flour and water,\nwas shaved by Cheetham with a great wooden razor, and then the policemen\ntipped him backwards into the bath where the bears were waiting. As he\nwas being pushed in he seized the barber and took him with him.\n\nWright, Lillie, Simpson and Levick followed, with about six of the crew.\nFinally Gran, the Norwegian, was caught as an extra--never having been\nacross the Line in a British ship. But he threw the pill-distributing\ndoctor over his head into the bath, after which he was lathered very\ngingerly, and Cheetham having been in once, refused to shave him at all,\nso they tipped him in and wished they had never caught him.\n\nThe procession re-formed, and Neptune presented certificates to those who\nhad been initiated. The proceedings closed with a sing-song in the\nevening.\n\nThese sing-songs were of very frequent occurrence. The expedition was\nvery fond of singing, though there was hardly anybody in it who could\nsing. The usual custom at this time was that every one had to contribute\na song in turn all round the table after supper. If he could not sing he\nhad to compose a limerick. If he could not compose a limerick he had to\ncontribute a fine towards the wine fund, which was to make some\nmuch-discussed purchases when we reached Cape Town. At other times we\nplayed the most childish games--there was one called 'The Priest of the\nParish has lost his Cap,' over which we laughed till we cried, and much\nmoney was added to the wine fund.\n\nAs always happens, certain songs became conspicuous for a time. One of\nthese I am sure that Campbell, who was always at work and upon whom the\nroutine of the ship depended, will never forget. I do not know who it was\nthat started singing\n\n \"Everybody works but Father,\n That poor old man,\"\n\nbut Campbell, who was the only father on board and whose hair was\npopularly supposed to be getting thin on the top of his head, may\nremember.\n\nWe began to make preparations for a run ashore--a real adventure on an\nuninhabited and unknown island. The sailing track of ships from England\nround the Cape of Good Hope lies out towards the coast of Brazil, and not\nfar from the mysterious island of South Trinidad, 680 miles east of\nBrazil, in 20° 30´ S. and 29° 30´ W.\n\nThis island is difficult of access, owing to its steep rocky coast and\nthe big Atlantic swell which seldom ceases. It has therefore been little\nvisited, and as it is infested with land crabs the stay of the few\nparties which have been there has been short. But scientifically it is of\ninterest, not only for the number of new species which may be obtained\nthere, but also for the extraordinary attitude of wild sea birds towards\nhuman beings whom they have never learnt to fear. Before we left England\nit had been decided to attempt a landing and spend a day there if we\nshould pass sufficiently near to it.\n\nThose who have visited it in the past include the astronomer Halley, who\noccupied it, in 1700. Sir James Ross, outward bound for the Antarctic in\n1839, spent a day there, landing \"in a small cove a short distance to\nthe northward of the Nine Pin Rock of Halley, the surf on all other parts\nbeing too great to admit of it without hazarding the destruction of our\nboats.\" Ross also writes that \"Horsburgh mentions ... 'that the island\nabounds with wild pig and goats; one of the latter was seen. With the\nview to add somewhat to the stock of useful creatures, a cock and two\nhens were put on shore; they seemed to enjoy the change, and, I have no\ndoubt, in so unfrequented a situation, and so delightful a climate, will\nquickly increase in numbers.' I am afraid we did not find any of their\ndescendants, nor those of the pig and goats.\"[34] I doubt whether fowls\nwould survive the land crabs very long. There are many wild birds on the\nisland, however, which may feed the shipwrecked, and also a depôt left by\nthe Government for that purpose. Another visitor was Knight, who wrote a\nbook called The Cruise of the Falcon, concerning his efforts to discover\nthe treasure which is said to have been left there. Scott also visited it\nin the Discovery in 1901, when a new petrel was found which was\nafterwards called 'Oestrelata wilsoni,' after the same 'Uncle Bill' who\nwas zoologist of both Scott's Expeditions.\n\nAnd so it came about that on the evening of July 25 we furled sail and\nlay five miles from South Trinidad with all our preparations made for a\nvery thorough search of this island of treasure. Everything was to be\ncaptured, alive or dead, animal, vegetable or mineral.\n\nAt half-past five the next morning we were steaming slowly towards what\nlooked like a quite impregnable face of rock, with bare cliffs standing\nstraight out of the water, which, luckily for us, was comparatively\nsmooth. As we coasted to try and find a landing-place the sun was rising\nbehind the island, which reaches to a height of two thousand feet, and\nthe jagged cliffs stood up finely against the rosy sky.\n\n[Illustration: SOUTH TRINIDAD--E. A. Wilson, del.]\n\nWe dropped our anchor to the south of the island and a boat's crew left\nto prospect for a landing-place, whilst Wilson seized the opportunity to\nshoot some birds as specimens, including two species of frigate bird,\nand the seamen caught some of the multitudinous fish. We also fired shots\nat the sharks which soon thronged round the ship, and about which we were\nto think more before the day was done.\n\nThe boat came back with the news that a possible landing-place had been\nfound, and the landing parties got off about 8.30. The landing was very\nbad--a ledge of rock weathered out of the cliff to our right formed, as\nit were, a staging along which it was possible to pass on to a steeply\nshelving talus slope in front of us. The sea being comparatively smooth,\neverybody was landed dry, with their guns and collecting gear.\n\nThe best account of South Trinidad is contained in a letter written by\nBowers to his mother, which is printed here. But some brief notes which I\njotted down at the time may also be of interest, since they give an\naccount of a different part of the island:\n\n\"Having made a small depôt of cartridges, together with a little fluffy\ntern and a tern's egg, which Wilson found on the rocks, we climbed\nwestward, round and up, to a point from which we could see into the East\nBay. This was our first stand, and we shot several white-breasted petrel\n(Oestrelata trinitatis), and also black-breasted petrel (Oestrelata\narminjoniana). Later on we got over the brow of a cliff where the petrel\nwere nesting. We took two nests, on each of which a white-breasted and a\nblack-breasted petrel were paired. Wilson caught one in his hands and I\ncaught another on its nest; it really did not know whether it ought to\nfly away or not. This gives rise to an interesting problem, since these\ntwo birds have been classified as different species, and it now looks as\nthough they are the same.\n\n\"The gannets and terns were quite extraordinary, like all the living\nthings there. If you stay still enough the terns perch on your head. In\nany case they will not fly off the rocks till you are two or three feet\naway. Several gannets were caught in the men's hands. All the fish which\nthe biologist collected to-day can travel quite fast on land. When the\nDiscovery was here Wilson saw a fish come out of the sea, seize a land\ncrab about eighteen inches away and take it back into the water.\n\n\"The land crabs were all over the place in thousands; it seems probable\nthat their chief enemies are themselves. They are regular cannibals.\n\n\"Then we did a real long climb northwards, over rocks and tufty grass\ntill 1.30 P.M. From the point we had reached we could see both sides of\nthe island, and the little Martin Vas islands in the distance.\n\n\"We found lots of little tern and terns' eggs, lying out on the bare rock\nwith no nest at all. Hooper also brought us two little gannets--all\nfluffy, but even at this age larger than a rook. As we got further up we\nbegan to come across the fossilized trees for which the island is well\nknown.\n\n\"Four or five Captain biscuits made an excellent lunch, and afterwards we\nstarted to the real top of the island, a hill rising to the west of us.\nIt was covered with a high scrubby bush and rocks, and was quite thick;\nin fact there was more vegetation here than on all the rest we had seen,\nand in making our way through it we had to keep calling in order to keep\ntouch with one another.\n\n\"The tree ferns were numerous, but stunted. The gannets were sleeping on\nthe tops of the bushes, and some of the crabs had climbed up the bushes\nand were sunning themselves on the top. These crabs were round us in\nthousands--I counted seven watching me out of one crack between two\nrocks.\n\n\"We sat down under the lee of the summit, and thought it would not be bad\nto be thrown away on a desert island, little thinking how near we were to\nbeing stranded, for a time at any rate.\n\n\"The crabs gathered round us in a circle, with their eyes turning towards\nus--as if they were waiting for us to die to come and eat us. One big\nfellow left his place in the circle and waddled up to my feet and\nexamined my boots. First with one claw and then with the other he took a\ntaste of my boot. He went away obviously disgusted: one could almost see\nhim shake his head.\n\n\"We collected, as well as our birds and eggs, some spiders, very large\ngrasshoppers, wood-lice, cockchafers, with big and small centipedes. In\nfact, the place teemed with insect life. I should add that their names\nare given rather from the general appearance of the animals than from\ntheir true scientific classes.\n\n\"We had a big and fast scramble down, and about half way, when we could\nwatch the sea breaking on the rocks far below, we saw that there was a\nbigger swell running. It was getting late, and we made our way down as\nfast as we could--denting our guns as we slipped on the rocks.\n\n\"The lower we got the bigger the sea which had risen in our absence\nappeared to be. No doubt it was the swell of a big disturbance far away,\nand when we reached the débris slope where we had landed, flanked by big\ncliffs, we found everybody gathered there and the boats lying off--it\nbeing quite impossible for them to get near the shore.\n\n\"They had just got a life-line ashore on a buoy. Bowers went out on to\nthe rocks and secured it. We put our guns and specimens into a pile, out\nof reach, as we thought, of any possible sea. But just afterwards two\nvery large waves took us--we were hauling in the rope, and must have been\na good thirty feet above the base of the wave. It hit us hard and knocked\nus all over the place, and wetted the guns and specimens above us through\nand through.\n\n\"We then stowed all gear and specimens well out of the reach of the seas,\nand then went out through the surf one by one, passing ourselves out on\nthe line. It was ticklish work, but Hooper was the only one who really\nhad a bad time. He did not get far enough out among the rocks which\nfringed the steep slope from which he started as a wave began to roll\nback. The next wave caught him and crashed him back, and he let go of the\nline. He was under quite a long time, and as the waves washed back all\nthat we could do was to try and get the line to him. Luckily he succeeded\nin finding the slack of the line and got out.\n\n\"When we first got down to the shore and things were looking nasty,\nWilson sat down on the top of a rock and ate a biscuit in the coolest\npossible manner. It was an example to avoid all panicking, for he did\nnot want the biscuit.\n\n\"He remarked afterwards to me, apropos to Hooper, that it was a curious\nthing that a number of men, knowing that there was nothing they could do,\ncould quietly watch a man fighting for his life, and he did not think\nthat any but the British temperament could do so. I also found out later\nthat he and I had both had a touch of cramp while waiting for our turn to\nswim out through the surf.\"\n\nThe following is Bowers' letter:\n\n \"_Sunday, 31st July._\n\n \"The past week has been so crowded with incident, really, that I\n don't know where to start. Getting to land made me long for the\n mails from you, which are such a feature of getting to port.\n However, the strange uninhabited island which we visited will\n have to make up for my disappointment till we get to Capetown--or\n rather Simon's Town. Campbell and I sighted S. Trinidad from the\n fore yardarm on 25th, and on 26th, at first thing in the morning,\n we crept up to an anchorage in a sea of glass. The S.E. Trades,\n making a considerable sea, were beating on the eastern sides,\n while the western was like a mill-pond. The great rocks and hills\n to over 2000 feet towered above us as we went in very close in\n order to get our anchor down, as the water is very deep to quite\n a short distance from the shore. West Bay was our selection, and\n so clear was the water that we could see the anchor at the bottom\n in 15 fathoms. A number of sharks and other fish appeared at once\n and several birds. Evans wanted to explore, so Oates, Rennick,\n Atkinson and myself went away with him--pulling the boat. We\n examined the various landings and found them all rocky and\n dangerous. There was a slight surf although the sea looked like a\n mill-pond. We finally decided on a previously unused place, which\n was a little inlet among the rocks.\n\n \"There was nothing but rock, but there was a little nook where we\n decided to try and land. We returned to breakfast and found that\n Wilson and Cherry-Garrard had shot several Frigate and other\n birds from the ship, the little Norwegian boat--called a\n Pram--being used to pick them up. By way of explanation I may say\n that Wilson is a specialist in birds and is making a collection\n for the British Museum.\n\n \"We all landed as soon as possible. Wilson and Garrard with their\n guns for birds: Oates with the dogs, and Atkinson with a small\n rifle: Lillie after plants and geological specimens: Nelson and\n Simpson along the shore after sea beasts, etc.: and last but not\n least came the entomological party, under yours truly, with\n Wright and, later, Evans, as assistants. Pennell joined up with\n Wilson, so altogether we were ready to 'do' the island. I have\n taken over the collection of insects for the expedition, as the\n other scientists all have so much to do that they were only too\n glad to shove the small beasts on me. Atkinson is a specialist in\n parasites: it is called 'Helminthology.' I never heard that name\n before. He turns out the interior of every beast that is killed,\n and being also a surgeon, I suppose the subject must be\n interesting. White terns abounded on the island. They were\n ghost-like and so tame that they would sit on one's hat. They\n laid their eggs on pinnacles of rock without a vestige of nest,\n and singly. They looked just like stones. I suppose this was a\n protection from the land-crabs, about which you will have heard.\n The land-crabs of Trinidad are a byword and they certainly\n deserve the name, as they abound from sea-level to the top of the\n island. The higher up the bigger they were. The surface of the\n hills and valleys was covered with loose boulders, and the whole\n island being of volcanic origin, coarse grass is everywhere, and\n at about 1500 feet is an area of tree ferns and subtropical\n vegetation, extending up to nearly the highest parts. The\n withered trees of a former forest are everywhere and their\n existence unexplained, though Lillie had many ingenious theories.\n The island has been in our hands, the Germans', and is now\n Brazilian. Nobody has been able to settle there permanently,\n owing to the land-crabs. These also exclude mammal life. Captain\n Kidd made a treasure depôt there, and some five years ago a chap\n named Knight lived on the island for six months with a party of\n Newcastle miners--trying to get at it. He had the place all\n right, but a huge landslide has covered up three-quarters of a\n million of the pirate's gold. The land-crabs are little short of\n a nightmare. They peep out at you from every nook and boulder.\n Their dead staring eyes follow your every step as if to say, 'If\n only you will drop down we will do the rest.' To lie down and\n sleep on any part of the island would be suicidal. Of course,\n Knight had a specially cleared place with all sorts of\n precautions, otherwise he would never have survived these beasts,\n which even tried to nibble your boots as you stood--staring hard\n at you the whole time. One feature that would soon send a lonely\n man off his chump is that no matter how many are in sight they\n are all looking at you, and they follow step by step with a\n sickly deliberation. They are all yellow and pink, and next to\n spiders seem the most loathsome creatures on God's earth. Talking\n about spiders [Bowers always had the greatest horror of\n spiders]--I have to collect them as well as insects. Needless to\n say I caught them with a butterfly net, and never touched one.\n Only five species were known before, and I found fifteen or\n more--at any rate I have fifteen for certain. Others helped me to\n catch them, of course. Another interesting item to science is the\n fact that I caught a moth hitherto unknown to exist on the\n island, also various flies, ants, etc. Altogether it was a most\n successful day. Wilson got dozens of birds, and Lillie plants,\n etc. On our return to the landing-place we found to our horror\n that a southerly swell was rolling in, and great breakers were\n bursting on the beach. About five P.M. we all collected and\n looked at the whaler and pram on one side of the rollers and\n ourselves on the other. First it was impossible to take off the\n guns and specimens, so we made them all up to leave for the\n morrow. Second, a sick man had come ashore for exercise, and he\n could not be got off: finally, Atkinson stayed ashore with him.\n The breakers made the most awe-inspiring cauldron in our little\n nook, and it meant a tough swim for all of us. Three of us swam\n out first and took a line to the pram, and finally we got a good\n rope from the whaler, which had anchored well out, to the shore.\n I then manoeuvred the pram, and everybody plunged into the surf\n and hauled himself out with the rope. All well, but minus our\n belongings, and got back to the ship; very wet and ravenous was a\n mild way to put it. During my 12 to 4 watch that night the surf\n roared like thunder, and the ship herself was rolling like\n anything, and looked horribly close to the shore. Of course she\n was quite safe really. It transpired that Atkinson and the seaman\n had a horrible night with salt water soaked food, and the crabs\n and white terns which sat and watched them all night, squawking\n in chorus whenever they moved. It must have been horrible, though\n I would like to have stayed, and had I known anybody was staying\n would have volunteered. This with the noise of the surf and the\n cold made it pretty rotten for them. In the morning, Evans,\n Rennick, Oates and I, with two seamen and Gran, took the whaler\n and pram in to rescue the maroons. At first we thought we would\n do it by a rocket line to the end of the sheer cliff. The\n impossibility of such an idea was at once evident, so Gran and I\n went in close in the pram, and hove them lines to get off the\n gear first. I found the spoon-shaped pram a wonderful boat to\n handle. You could go in to the very edge of the breaking surf,\n lifted like a cork on top of the waves, and as long as you kept\n head to sea and kept your own head, you need never have got on\n the rocks, as the tremendous back-swish took you out like a shot\n every time. It was quite exciting, however, as we would slip in\n close in a lull, and the chaps in the whaler would yell, 'Look\n out!' if a big wave passed them, in which case you would pull out\n for dear life. Our first lines carried away, and then, with\n others, Rennick and I this time took the pram while Atkinson got\n as near the edge as safe to throw us the gear. I was pulling, and\n by watching our chances we rescued the cameras and glasses, once\n being carried over 12 feet above the rocks and only escaping by\n the back-swish. Then the luckiest incident of the day occurred,\n when in a lull we got our sick man down, and I jumped out, and he\n in, as I steadied the boat's stern. The next minute the boat\n flew out on the back-wash with the seaman absolutely dry, and I\n was of course enveloped in foam and blackness two seconds later\n by a following wave. Twice the day before this had happened, but\n this time for a moment I thought, 'Where will my head strike?' as\n I was like a feather in a breeze in that swirl. When I banked it\n was about 15 feet above, and, very scratched and winded, I clung\n on with my nails and scrambled up higher. The next wave, a bigger\n one, nearly had me, but I was just too high to be sucked back.\n Atkinson and I then started getting the gear down, Evans having\n taken my place in the pram. By running down between waves we hove\n some items into the boat, including the guns and rifles, which I\n went right down to throw. These were caught and put into the\n boat, but Evans was too keen to save a bunch of boots that\n Atkinson threw down, and the next minute the pram passed over my\n head and landed high and dry, like a bridge, over the rocks\n between which I was wedged. I then scrambled out as the next wave\n washed her still higher, right over and over, with Evans and\n Rennick just out in time. The next wave--a huge one--picked her\n up, and out she bumped over the rocks and out to sea she went,\n water-logged, with the guns, fortunately, jammed under the\n thwarts. She was rescued by the whaler, baled out, and then Gran\n and one of the seamen manned her battered remains again, and we,\n unable to save the gear otherwise, lashed it to life-buoys, threw\n it into the sea and let it drift out with the back-wash to be\n picked up by the pram.\n\n \"Clothes, watches and ancient guns, rifles, ammunition, birds\n (dead) and all specimens were, with the basket of crockery and\n food, soaked with salt water. However, the choice was between\n that or leaving them altogether, as anybody would have said had\n they seen the huge rollers breaking among the rocks and washing\n 30 to 40 feet up with the spray; in fact, we were often knocked\n over and submerged for a time, clinging hard to some rock or one\n of the ropes for dear life. Evans swam off first. Then I was\n about half an hour trying to rescue a hawser and some lines\n entangled among the rocks. It was an amusing job. I would wait\n for a lull, run down and haul away, staying under for smaller\n waves and running up the rocks like a hare when the warning came\n from the boat that a series of big ones were coming in. I finally\n rescued most of it--had to cut off some and got it to the place\n opposite the boat, and with Rennick secured it and sent it out to\n sea to be picked up. My pair of brown tennis shoes (old ones) had\n been washed off my feet in one of the scrambles, so I was wearing\n a pair of sea-boots--Nelson's, I found--which, fortunately for\n him, was one of the few pairs saved. The pram came in, and\n waiting for a back-wash Rennick swam off. I ran down after the\n following wave, and securing my green hat, which by the bye is a\n most useful asset, struck out through the boiling, and grabbed\n the pram safely as we were lifted on the crest of an immense\n roller. However, we were just beyond its breaking-point, so all\n was well, and we arrived aboard after eight hours' wash and\n wetness, and none the worse, except for a few scratches, and\n yours truly in high spirits. We stayed there that night, and the\n following, Thursday, morning left. Winds are not too favourable\n so far, as we dropped the S.E. Trades almost immediately, and\n these are the variables between the Trades and the Westerlies.\n Still 2500 miles off our destination. Evans has therefore decided\n to steer straight for Simon's Town and miss out the other\n islands. It is a pity, but as it is winter down here, and the\n worst month of the year for storms at Tristan Da Cunha, it is\n perhaps just as well. I am longing to get to the Cape to have\n your letters and hear all about you. Except for the absence of\n news, life aboard is much to be desired. I simply love it, and\n enjoy every day of my existence here. Time flies like anything,\n and though it must have been long to you, to us it goes like the\n wind--so different to that fortnight on the passage home from\n India.\"[35]\n\nAfter the return of the boat's crew we left South Trinidad, and the\nzoologists had a busy time trying to save as many as possible of the bird\nskins which had been procured. They skinned on all through the following\nnight, and, considering that the birds had been lying out in the tropics\nfor twenty-four hours soaked with sea-water and had been finally capsized\nin the overturned boat, the result was not so disappointing as was\nexpected. But the eggs and many other articles were lost. Since the\nblack-breasted and white-breasted petrels were seen flying and nesting\npaired together, it is reasonable to suppose that their former\nclassification as two separate species will have to be revised.\n\nSoon after leaving South Trinidad we picked up our first big long swell,\nlogged at 8, and began to learn that the Terra Nova can roll as few ships\ncan. This was followed by a stiff gale on our port beam, and we took over\nour first green seas. Bowers wrote home as follows:\n\n _August 7th, Sunday._\n\n\"All chances of going to Tristan are over, and we are at last booming\nalong with strong Westerlies with the enormous Southern rollers lifting\nus like a cork on their crests. We have had a stiff gale and a very high\nsea, which is now over, though it is still blowing a moderate gale, and\nthe usual crowd of Albatross, Mollymawks, Cape Hens, Cape Pigeons, etc.,\nare following us. These will be our companions down to the South.\nWilson's idea is that, as the prevailing winds round the forties are\nWesterlies, these birds simply fly round and round the world--via Cape\nHorn, New Zealand and the Cape of Good Hope. We have had a really good\nopportunity now of testing the ship's behaviour, having been becalmed\nwith a huge beam swell rolling 35° each way, and having stood out a heavy\ngale with a high sea. In both she has turned up trumps, and really I\nthink a better little sea boat never floated. Compared to the Loch\nTorridon--which was always awash in bad weather--we are as dry as a cork,\nand never once shipped a really heavy sea. Of course a wooden ship has\nsome buoyancy of herself, and we are no exception. We are certainly an\nexception for general seaworthiness--if not for speed--and a safer,\nsounder ship there could not be. The weather is now cool too--cold, some\npeople call it. I am still comfortable in cotton shirts and whites, while\nsome are wearing Shetland gear. Nearly everybody is provided with\nShetland things. I am glad you have marked mine, as they are all so much\nalike. I am certainly as well provided with private gear as anybody, and\nfar better than most, so, being as well a generator of heat in myself, I\nshould be O.K. in any temperature. By the bye Evans and Wilson are very\nkeen on my being in the Western Party, while Campbell wants me with him\nin the Eastern Party. I have not asked to go ashore, but am keen on\nanything and am ready to do anything. In fact there is so much going on\nthat I feel I should like to be in all three places at once--East, West\nand Ship.\"\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n [34] Ross, _Voyage to the Southern Seas_, vol. i. pp. 22-24.\n\n [35] Bowers' letter.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nMAKING OUR EASTING DOWN\n\n\n\"Ten minutes to four, sir!\"\n\nIt is an oilskinned and dripping seaman, and the officer of the watch, or\nhis so-called snotty, as the case may be, wakes sufficiently to ask:\n\n\"What's it like?\"\n\n\"Two hoops, sir!\" answers the seaman, and makes his way out.\n\nThe sleepy man who has been wakened wedges himself more securely into his\nsix foot by two--which is all his private room on the ship--and collects\nhis thoughts, amid the general hubbub of engines, screw and the roll of\narticles which have worked loose, to consider how he will best prevent\nbeing hurled out of his bunk in climbing down, and just where he left his\noilskins and sea-boots.\n\nIf, as is possible, he sleeps in the Nursery, his task may not be so\nsimple as it may seem, for this cabin, which proclaims on one of the\nbeams that it is designed to accommodate four seamen, will house six\nscientists or pseudo-scientists, in addition to a pianola. Since these\nscientists are the youngest in the expedition their cabin is named the\nNursery.\n\nIncidentally it forms also the gangway from the wardroom to the\nengine-room, from which it is divided only by a wooden door, which has a\nbad habit of swinging open and shutting with the roll of the ship and the\nweight of the oilskins hung upon it, and as it does so, wave upon wave,\nthe clatter of the engines advances and recedes.\n\nIf, however, it is the officer of the watch he will be in a smaller\ncabin farther aft which he shares with one other man only, and his\ntroubles are simplified.\n\nOwing to the fact that the seams in the deck above have travelled many\nvoyages, and have been strained in addition by the boat davits and\ndeck-houses built on the poop, a good deal of water from this part of the\ndeck, which is always awash in bad weather, finds its way below, that is\ninto the upper bunks of our cabins. In order that only a minimum of this\nmay find its way into our blankets a series of shoots, invented and\ncarefully tended by the occupants of these bunks, are arranged to catch\nthis water as it falls and carry it over our heads on to the deck of the\ncabin.\n\nThus it is that when this sleepy officer or scientist clambers down on to\nthe deck he will, if he is lucky, find the water there, instead of\nleaving it in his bunk. He searches round for his sea-boots, gets into\nhis oilskins, curses if the strings of his sou'wester break as he tries\nto tie them extra firmly round his neck, and pushes along to the open\ndoor into the wardroom. It is still quite dark, for the sun does not rise\nfor another hour and a half, but the diminished light from the swinging\noil-lamp which hangs there shows him a desolate early morning scene which\nhe comes to hate--especially if he is inclined to be sick.\n\nAs likely as not more than one sea has partially found its way down\nduring the night, and a small stream runs over the floor each time the\nship rolls. The white oilcloth has slipped off the table, and various\noddments, dirty cocoa cups, ash-trays, and other litter from the night\nare rolling about too. The tin cups and plates and crockery in the pantry\nforrard of the wardroom come together with a sickening crash.\n\nThe screw keeps up a ceaseless chonk-chonk-chonk (pause),\nchonk-chonk-chonk (pause), chonk-chonk-chonk.\n\nWatching his opportunity he slides down across the wet linoleum to the\nstarboard side, whence the gangway runs up to the chart-house and so out\non to the deck. Having glanced at the barograph slung up in the\nchart-room, and using all his strength to force the door out enough to\nsqueeze through, he scrambles out into blackness.\n\nThe wind is howling through the rigging, the decks are awash. It is hard\nto say whether it is raining, for the spray cut off by the wind makes\nrain a somewhat insignificant event. As he makes his way up on to the\nbridge, not a very lofty climb, he looks to see what sail is set, and\njudges so far as he can the force of the wind.\n\nCampbell, for he is the officer of the morning watch (4 A.M.-8 A.M.) has\na talk with the officer he is relieving, Bowers. He is given the course,\nthe last hour's reading on the Cherub patent log trailing out over the\nstern, and the experiences of the middle watch of the wind, whether\nrising or falling or squalling, and its effect on the sails and the ship.\n\"If you keep her on her present course, she's all right, but if you try\nand bring her up any more she begins to shake. And, by the way, Penelope\nwants to be called at 4.30.\" Bowers' 'snotty,' who is Oates, probably\nmakes some ribald remarks, such as no midshipman should to a full\nlieutenant, and they both disappear below. Campbell's snotty, myself,\nappears about five minutes afterwards trying to look as though some\nimportant duty and not bed had kept him from making an earlier\nappearance. Meanwhile the leading hand musters the watch on deck and\nreports them all present.\n\n\"How about that cocoa?\" says Campbell. Cocoa is a useful thing in the\nmorning watch, and Gran, who used to be Campbell's snotty, and whose\nEnglish was not then perfect, said he was glad of a change because he\n\"did not like being turned into a drumstick\" (he meant a domestic).\n\nSo cocoa is the word and the snotty starts on an adventurous voyage over\nthe deck to the galley which is forrard; if he is unlucky he gets a sea\nover him on the way. Here he finds the hands of the watch, smoking and\nkeeping warm, and he forages round for some hot water, which he gets\nsafely back to the pantry down in the wardroom. Here he mixes the cocoa\nand collects sufficient clean mugs (if he can find them), spoons, sugar\nand biscuits to go round. These he carefully \"chocks off\" while he goes\nand calls Wilson and gives him his share--for Wilson gets up at 4.30\nevery morning to sketch the sunrise, work at his scientific paintings\nand watch the sea-birds flying round the ship. Then back to the bridge,\nand woe betide him if he falls on the way, for then it all has to be done\nover again.\n\nPennell, who sleeps under the chart table on the bridge, is also fed and\ninquires anxiously whether there are any stars showing. If there are he\nis up immediately to get an observation, and then retires below to work\nit out and to tabulate the endless masses of figures which go to make up\nthe results of his magnetic observations--dip, horizontal force and total\nforce of the magnetic needle.\n\nA squall strikes the ship. Two blasts of the whistle fetches the watch\nout, and \"Stand by topsail halyards,\" \"In inner jib,\" sends one hand to\none halyard, the midshipman of the watch to the other, and the rest on to\nfoc'stle and to the jib downhaul. Down comes the jib and the man standing\nby the fore topsail halyard, which is on the weather side of the galley,\nis drenched by the crests of two big seas which come over the rail.\n\nBut he has little time to worry about things like this, for the wind is\nincreasing and \"Let go topsail halyards\" comes through the megaphone from\nthe bridge, and he wants all his wits to let go the halyard from the\nbelaying-pins and jump clear of the rope tearing through the block as the\ntopsail yard comes sliding down the mast.\n\n\"Clew up\" is the next order, and then \"All hands furl fore and main upper\ntopsails,\" and up we go out on to the yard. Luckily the dawn is just\nturning the sea grey and the ratlines begin to show up in relief. It is\nfar harder for the first and middle watches, who have to go aloft in\ncomplete darkness. Once on the yard you are flattened against it by the\nwind. The order to take in sail always fetches Pennell out of his\nchart-house to come and take a hand.\n\nThe two sodden sails safely furled--luckily they are small ones--the men\nreach the deck to find that the wind has shifted a little farther aft and\nthey are to brace round. This finished, it is broad daylight, and the men\nset to work to coil up preparatory to washing decks--not that this would\nseem very necessary. Certainly there is no hose wanted this morning, and\na general kind of tidying up and coiling down ropes is more what is done.\n\nThe two stewards, Hooper, who is to land with the Main Party, and Neale,\nwho will remain with the Ship's Party, turn out at six and rouse the\nafterguard for the pumps, a daily evolution, and soon an unholy din may\nbe heard coming up from the wardroom. \"Rouse and shine, rouse and shine:\nshow a leg, show a leg\" (a relic of the old days when seamen took their\nwives to sea). \"Come on, Mr. Nelson, it's seven o'clock. All hands on the\npumps!\"\n\nFrom first to last these pumps were a source of much exercise and hearty\ncurses. A wooden ship always leaks a little, but the amount of water\ntaken in by the Terra Nova even in calm weather was extraordinary, and\ncould not be traced until the ship was dry-docked in Lyttelton, New\nZealand, and the forepart was flooded.\n\nIn the meantime the ship had to be kept as dry as possible, a process\nwhich was not facilitated by forty gallons of oil which got loose during\nthe rough weather after leaving South Trinidad, and found its way into\nthe bilges. As we found later, some never-to-be-sufficiently-cursed\nstevedore had left one of the bottom boards only half-fitted into its\nneighbours. In consequence the coal dust and small pieces of coal, which\nwas stowed in this hold, found their way into the bilges. Forty gallons\nof oil completed the havoc and the pumps would gradually get more and\nmore blocked until it was necessary to send for Davies, the carpenter, to\ntake parts of them to pieces and clear out the oily coal balls which had\nstopped them. This pumping would sometimes take till nearly eight, and\nthen would always have to be repeated again in the evening, and sometimes\nevery watch had to take a turn. At any rate it was good for our muscles.\n\nThe pumps were placed amidships, just abaft the main mast, and ran down a\nshaft adjoining the after hatch, which led into the holds which were\ngenerally used for coal and patent fuel. The spout of the pump opened\nabout a foot above the deck, and the plungers were worked by means of\ntwo horizontal handles, much as a bucket is wound up on the drum of a\ncottage well. Unfortunately, this part of the main deck, which is just\nforward of the break of the poop, is more subject to seas breaking\ninboard than any other part of the ship, so when the ship was labouring\nthe task of those on the pump was not an enviable one. During the big\ngale going South the water was up to the men's waists as they tried to\nturn the handles, and the pumps themselves were feet under water.\n\nFrom England to Cape Town these small handles were a great inconvenience.\nThere was very much pumping to be done and there were plenty of men to do\nit, but the handles were not long enough to allow more than four men to\neach handle. Also they gave no secure purchase when the ship was rolling\nheavily, and when a big roll came there was nothing to do but practically\nstop pumping and hold on, or you found yourself in the scuppers.\n\nAt Cape Town a great improvement was made by extending the crank handles\nright across the decks, the outside end turning in a socket under the\nrail. Fourteen men could then get a good purchase on the handles and\npumping became a more pleasant exercise and less of a nuisance.\n\nPeriodically the well was sounded by an iron rod being lowered on the end\nof a rope, by which the part that came up wet showed the depth of water\nleft in the bilge. When this had been reduced to about a foot in the\nwell, the ship was practically dry, and the afterguard free to bathe and\ngo to breakfast.\n\nMeanwhile the hands of the watch had been employed on ropes and sails as\nthe wind made necessary, and, when running under steam as well as sail,\nhoisting ashes up the two shoots from the ash-pits of the furnaces to the\ndeck, whence they went into the ditch.\n\nIt is eight bells (8 o'clock) and the two stewards are hurrying along the\ndecks, hoping to get the breakfast safely from galley to wardroom. A few\nnaked officers are pouring sea-water over their heads on deck, for we are\nunder sail alone and there is no steam to work the hose. The watch\nkeepers and their snotties of the night before are tumbling out of their\nbunks, and a great noise of conversation is coming from the wardroom,\namong which some such remarks as: \"Give the jam a wind, Marie\"; \"After\nyou with the coffee\"; \"Push along the butter\" are frequent. There are few\ncobwebs that have not been blown away by breakfast-time.\n\nRennick is busy breakfasting preparatory to relieving Campbell on the\nbridge. Meanwhile, the hourly and four-hourly ship's log is being made\nup--force of the wind, state of the sea, height of the barometer, and all\nthe details which a log has to carry--including a reading of the distance\nrun as shown by the patent log line--(many is the time I have forgotten\nto take it just at the hour and have put down what I thought it ought to\nbe, and not what it was).\n\nThe morning watch is finished.\n\nSuddenly there is a yell from somewhere amidships--\"STEADY\"--a stranger\nmight have thought there was something wrong, but it is a familiar sound,\nanswered by a \"STEADY IT IS, Sir,\" from the man at the wheel, and an\nanything but respectful, \"One--two--three--STEADY,\" from everybody having\nbreakfast. It is Pennell who has caused this uproar. And the origin is as\nfollows:\n\nPennell is the navigator, and the standard compass, owing to its\nremoteness from iron in this position, is placed on the top of the\nice-house. The steersman, however, steers by a binnacle compass placed\naft in front of his wheel. But these two compasses for various reasons do\nnot read alike at a given moment, while the standard is the truer of the\ntwo.\n\nAt intervals, then, Pennell or the officer of the watch orders the\nsteersman to \"Stand by for a steady,\" and goes up to the standard\ncompass, and watches the needle. Suppose the course laid down is S. 40 E.\nA liner would steer almost true to this course unless there was a big\nwind or sea. But not so the old Terra Nova. Even with a good steersman\nthe needle swings a good many degrees either side of the S. 40 E. But as\nit steadies momentarily on the exact course Pennell shouts his \"Steady,\"\nthe steersman reads just where the needle is pointing on the compass\ncard before him, say S. 47 E., and knows that this is the course which is\nto be steered by the binnacle compass.\n\nPennell's yells were so frequent and ear-piercing that he became famous\nfor them, and many times in working on the ropes in rough seas and big\nwinds, we have been cheered by this unmusical noise over our heads.\n\nWe left Simon's Bay on Friday, September 2, 'to make our Easting down'\nfrom the Cape of Good Hope to New Zealand, that famous passage in the\nRoaring Forties which can give so much discomfort or worse to sailing\nships on their way.\n\nSouth Africa had been hospitable. The Admiral Commanding the Station, the\nNaval Dockyard, and H.M.S. Mutine and H.M.S. Pandora, had been more than\nkind. They had done many repairs and fittings for us and had sent fatigue\nparties to do it, thus releasing men for a certain amount of freedom on\nshore, which was appreciated after some nine weeks at sea. I can remember\nmy first long bath now.\n\nScott, who was up country when we arrived, joined the ship here, and\nWilson travelled ahead of us to Melbourne to carry out some expedition\nwork, chiefly dealing with the Australian members who were to join us in\nNew Zealand.\n\nOne or two of us went out to Wynberg, which Oates knew well, having been\ninvalided there in the South African War with a broken leg, the result of\na fight against big odds when, his whole party wounded, he refused to\nsurrender. He told me later how he had thought he would bleed to death,\nand the man who lay next to him was convinced he had a bullet in the\nmiddle of his brain--he could feel it wobbling about there! Just now his\nrecollections only went so far as to tell of a badly wounded Boer who lay\nin the next bed to him when he was convalescent, and how the Boer\ninsisted on getting up to open the door for him every time he left the\nward, much to his own discomfort.\n\nOtherwise the recollections which survive of South Africa are an\nexcellent speech made on the expedition by John Xavier Merriman, and the\nremark of a seaman who came out to dinner concerning one John, the\nwaiter, that \"he moved about as quick as a piece of sticking-plaster!\"\n\nLeaving Simon's Town at daybreak we did magnetic work all day, sailing\nout from False Bay with a biggish swell in the evening. We ran southerly\nin good weather until Sunday morning, when the swell was logged at 8 and\nthe glass was falling fast. By the middle watch it was blowing a full\ngale and for some thirty hours we ran under reefed foresail, lower\ntopsails and occasionally reefed upper topsails, and many of us were\nsick.\n\nThen after two days of comparative calm we had a most extraordinary gale\nfrom the east, a thing almost unheard of in these latitudes (38° S. to\n39° S.). All that we could do was to put the engines at dead slow and\nsail northerly as close to the wind as possible. Friday night, September\n9, it blew force 10 in the night, and the morning watch was very lively\nwith the lee rail under water.\n\nDirectly after breakfast on Saturday, September 10, we wore ship, and\ndirectly afterwards the gale broke and it was raining, with little wind,\nduring the day.\n\nThe morning watch had a merry time on Tuesday, September 13, when a fresh\ngale struck them while they were squaring yards. So unexpected was it\nthat the main yards were squared and the fore were still round, but it\ndid not last long and was followed by two splendid days--fine weather\nwith sun, a good fair wind and the swell astern.\n\n[Illustration: THE ROARING FORTIES--E. A. Wilson, del.]\n\nThe big swell which so often prevails in these latitudes is a most\ninspiring sight, and must be seen from a comparatively small ship like\nthe Terra Nova for its magnitude to be truly appreciated. As the ship\nrose on the crest of one great hill of water the next big ridge was\nnearly a mile away, with a sloping valley between. At times these seas\nare rounded in giant slopes as smooth as glass; at others they curl over,\nleaving a milk-white foam, and their slopes are marbled with a beautiful\nspumy tracery. Very wonderful are these mottled waves: with a following\nsea, at one moment it seems impossible that the great mountain which is\novertaking the ship will not overwhelm her, at another it appears\ninevitable that the ship will fall into the space over which she seems to\nbe suspended and crash into the gulf which lies below.\n\nBut the seas are so long that they are neither dangerous nor\nuncomfortable--though the Terra Nova rolled to an extraordinary extent,\nquite constantly over 50° each way, and sometimes 55°.\n\nThe cooks, however, had a bad time trying to cook for some fifty hands in\nthe little galley on the open deck. Poor Archer's efforts to make bread\nsometimes ended in the scuppers, and the occasional jangle of the ship's\nbell gave rise to the saying that \"a moderate roll rings the bell, and a\nbig roll brings out the cook.\"\n\nNoon on Sunday, September 18, found us in latitude 39° 20´ S. and\nlongitude 66° 9´ E., after a very good run, for the Terra Nova, of 200\nmiles in the last twenty-four hours. This made us about two days' run\nfrom St. Paul, an uninhabited island formed by the remains of an old\nvolcano, the crater of which, surrounded as it were by a horse-shoe of\nland, forms an almost landlocked harbour. It was hoped to make a landing\nhere for scientific work, but it is a difficult harbour to make. We ran\nanother two hundred miles on Monday, and on Tuesday all preparations were\nmade for the landing, with suitable equipment, and we were not a little\nexcited at the opportunity.\n\nAt 4.30 A.M. the next morning all hands were turned out to take in sail\npreparatory to rounding St. Paul which was just visible. The weather was\nsqually, but not bad. By 5 A.M., however, it was blowing a moderate gale,\nand by the time we had taken in all sail we had to give up hopes of a\nlanding. We were thoroughly sick of sails by the time we finally reefed\nthe foresail and ran before the wind under this and lower topsails.\n\nWe passed quite close to the island and could see into the crater, and\nthe cliffs beyond which rose from it, covered with greenish grass. There\nwere no trees, and of birds we only saw those which frequent these seas.\nWe had hoped to find penguins and albatross nesting on the island at this\ntime of the year, and this failure to land was most disappointing. The\nisland is 860 feet high, and, for its size, precipitous. It extends some\ntwo miles in length and one mile in breadth.\n\nThe following day all the afterguard were turned on to shift coal. It\nshould be explained that up to this time the bunkers, which lay one on\nthe port and the other on the starboard side of the furnaces, had been\nentirely filled as required by two or more officers who volunteered from\nday to day.\n\nWe took on board 450 tons of Crown Patent Fuel at Cardiff in June 1910.\nThis coal is in the form of bricks, and is most handy since it can be\nthrown by hand from the holds through the bunker doors in the boiler-room\nbulkhead which after a time was left higher than the sinking level of the\ncoal. The coal to be landed was this patent fuel, and it was now decided\nto shift farther aft all the patent fuel which was left, and stack it\nagainst the boiler-room bulkhead, the coal which was originally there\nhaving been fed to the furnaces. Thus the dust which was finding its way\nthrough the floorboards, and choking the pumps, could be swept up, and a\ngood stow could be made preparatory to the final fit-out in New Zealand,\nwhile the coal which was to be taken on board at Lyttelton could be\nloaded through the main hatch.\n\nIn the meantime the gale which had sprung up six days before and\nprevented us landing had died down. After leaving St. Paul we had let the\nfires out and run under sail alone, and the following two days we ran 119\nand 141 miles respectively, being practically becalmed at times on the\nfollowing day, and only running 66 miles.\n\nBy Tuesday night, September 27, we had finished the coaling, and we\ncelebrated the occasion by a champagne dinner. At the same time we raised\nsteam. Scott was anxious to push on, and so indeed was everybody else.\nBut the wind was not disposed to help us, and headed us a good deal\nduring the next few days, and it was not until October 2 that we were\nable to set all plain sail in the morning watch.\n\nThis absence of westerly winds in a region in which they are usually too\nstrong for comfort was explained by Pennell by a theory that we were\ntravelling in an anticyclone, which itself was travelling in front of a\ncyclone behind us. We were probably moving under steam about the same\npace as the disturbance, which would average some 150 miles a day.\n\nFrom this may be explained many of the reports of continual bad weather\nmet by sailing ships and steamers in these latitudes. If we had been a\nsailing ship without auxiliary steam the cyclone would have caught us up,\nand we should have been travelling with it, and consequently in continual\nbad weather. On the other hand, a steamer pure and simple would have\nsteamed through good and bad alike. But we, with our auxiliary steam,\nonly made much the same headway as the disturbance travelling in our\nwake, and so remained in the anticyclone.\n\nPhysical observations were made on the outward voyage by Simpson and\nWright[36] into the atmospheric electricity over the ocean, one set of\nwhich consisted of an inquiry into the potential gradient, and\nobservations were undertaken at Melbourne for the determination of the\nabsolute value of the potential gradient over the sea.[37] Numerous\nobservations were also made on the radium content of the atmosphere over\nthe ocean, to be compared afterwards with observations in the Antarctic\nair. The variations in radium content were not large. Results were also\nobtained on the voyage of the Terra Nova to New Zealand upon the subject\nof natural ionization in closed vessels.\n\nIn addition to the work of the ship and the physical work above\nmentioned, work in vertebrate zoology, marine biology and magnetism,\ntogether with four-hourly observations of the salinity and temperature of\nthe sea, was carried out during the whole voyage.\n\nIn vertebrate zoology Wilson kept an accurate record of birds, and he and\nLillie another record of whales and dolphins. All the birds which could\nbe caught, both at sea and on South Trinidad Island, were skinned and\nmade up into museum specimens. They were also examined for external and\ninternal parasites by Wilson, Atkinson and myself, as were also such fish\nand other animals as could be caught, including flying fish, a shark, and\nlast but not least, whales in New Zealand.\n\nThe method of catching these birds may be worth describing. A bent nail\nwas tied to a line, the other end of which was made fast to the halyards\nover the stern. Sufficient length of line was allowed either to cause the\nnail to just trail in the sea in the wake of the ship or for the line to\njust clear the sea. Thus when the halyard was hoisted to some thirty or\nforty feet above the deck, the line would be covering a considerable\ndistance of sea.\n\nThe birds flying round the ship congregate for the main part in the wake,\nfor here they find the scraps thrown overboard on which they feed. I have\nseen six albatross all together trying to eat up an empty treacle tin.\n\nAs they fly to and fro their wings are liable to touch the line which is\nspread out over the sea. Sometimes they will hit the line with the tips\nof their wings, and then there is no resulting capture, but sooner or\nlater a bird will touch the line with the part of the wing above the\nelbow-joint (humerus). It seems that on feeling the contact the bird\nsuddenly wheels in the air, thereby causing a loop in the line which\ntightens round the bone. At any rate the next thing that happens is that\nthe bird is struggling on the line and may be hauled on board.\n\nThe difficulty is to get a line which is light enough to fly in the air,\nbut yet strong enough to hold the large birds, such as albatross, without\nbreaking. We tried fishing line with no success, but eventually managed\nto buy some 5-ply extra strong cobbler's thread, which is excellent for\nthe purpose. But we wanted not only specimens, but also observations of\nthe species, the numbers which appeared, and their habits, for little is\nknown as yet of these sea birds. And so we enlisted the help of all who\nwere interested, and it may be said that all the officers and many of the\nseamen had a hand in producing the log of sea birds, to which additions\nwere made almost hourly throughout the daylight hours. Most officers and\nmen knew the more common sea birds in the open ocean, and certainly of\nthose in the pack and fringes of the Antarctic continent, which, with\nrare exceptions, is the southern limit of bird life.\n\nA number of observations of whales, illustrated by Wilson, were made, but\nthe results so far as the seas from England to the Cape and New Zealand\nare concerned, are not of great importance, partly because close views\nwere seldom obtained, and partly because the whales inhabiting these seas\nare fairly well known. On October 3, 1910, in latitude 42° 17´ S. and\nlongitude 111° 18´ E., two adults of Balaenoptera borealis (Northern\nRorqual) were following the ship close under the counter, length 50 feet,\nwith a light-coloured calf some 18-20 feet long swimming with them. It\nwas established by this and by a later observation in New Zealand, when\nLillie helped to cut up a similar whale at the Norwegian Whaling Station\nat the Bay of Islands, that this Rorqual which frequents the\nsub-Antarctic seas is identical with our Northern Rorqual;[38] but this\nwas the only close observation of any whales obtained before we left New\nZealand.\n\nGeneral information with regard to such animals is useful, however, as\nshowing the relative abundance of plankton on which the whales feed in\nthe ocean. There are, for instance, more whales in the Antarctic than in\nwarmer seas; and some whales at any rate (e.g. Humpback whales) probably\ncome north into warmer waters in the winter rather for breeding purposes\nthan to get food.[39]\n\nWith regard to dolphins four species were observed beyond question. The\nrarest dolphin seen was Tersio peronii, the peculiarity of which is that\nit has no dorsal fin. This was seen on October 20, 1910, in latitude 42°\n51´ S. and longitude 153° 56´ E.\n\nReports of whales and dolphins which are not based upon carcases and\nskeletons must be accepted with caution. It is most difficult to place\nspecies with scientific accuracy which can only be observed swimming in\nthe water, and of which more often than not only blows and the dorsal\nfins can be observed. The nomenclature of dolphins especially leaves much\nto be desired, and it is to be hoped that some expedition in the future\nwill carry a Norwegian harpooner, who could do other work as well since\nthey are very good sailors. Wilson was strongly of this opinion and tried\nhard to get a harpooner, but they are expensive people so long as the\npresent boom in whaling lasts, and perhaps it was on the score of expense\nthat the idea was regretfully abandoned. We carried whaling gear formerly\ntaken on the Discovery Expedition, and kindly lent for this expedition by\nthe Royal Geographical Society of London. A few shots were tried, but an\nunskilled harpooner stands very little chance. If you go whaling you must\nhave had experience.\n\nThe ship was not slowed down to enable marine biological observations to\nbe taken on this part of the expedition, but something like forty samples\nof plankton were taken with a full-speed net. We were unable to trawl on\nthe bottom until we reached Melbourne, when a trawl was made in Port\nPhillip Harbour to try the gear and accustom men to its use. It was not a\npurpose of the expedition to spend time in deep-sea work until it reached\nAntarctic seas.\n\nFor four days the wind, such as there was of it, was dead ahead; it is\nnot very often in the Forties that a ship cannot make progress for want\nof wind. But having set all plain sail on October 2 with a falling glass\nwe got a certain amount of wind on the port beam, and did 158 miles in\nthe next twenty-four hours. Sunday being quiet Scott read service while\nthe officers and men grouped round the wheel. We seldom had service on\ndeck; for Sundays became proverbial days for a blow on the way out, and\nservice, if held at all, was generally in the ward-room. On one famous\noccasion we tried to play the pianola to accompany the hymns, but, since\nthe rolls were scored rather for musical effect than for church services,\nthe pianola was suddenly found to be playing something quite different\nfrom what was being sung. All through the expedition the want of some one\nwho could play the piano was felt, and such a man is certainly a great\nasset in a life so far removed from all the pleasures of civilization.\nAs Scott wrote in The Voyage of the Discovery, where one of the officers\nused to play each evening: \"This hour of music has become an institution\nwhich none of us would willingly forgo. I don't know what thoughts it\nbrings to others, though I can readily guess; but of such things one does\nnot care to write. I can well believe, however, that our music smooths\nover many a ruffle and brings us to dinner each night in that excellent\nhumour, where all seem good-tempered, though 'cleared for action' and\nready for fresh argument.\"\n\nThe wind freshened to our joy; Scott was impatient; there was much to be\ndone and the time for doing it was not too long, for it had been decided\nto leave New Zealand at an earlier date than had been attempted by any\nprevious expedition, in order to penetrate the pack sooner and make an\nearly start on the depôt journey. The faintest glow of the Aurora\nAustralis which was to become so familiar to us was seen at this time,\nbut what aroused still more interest was the capture of several albatross\non the lines flowing out over the stern.\n\nThe first was a 'sooty' (cornicoides). We put him down on the deck, where\nhe strutted about in the proudest way, his feet going flop--flop--flop as\nhe walked. He was a most beautiful bird, sooty black body, a great black\nhead with a line of white over each eye and a gorgeous violet line\nrunning along his black beak. He treated us with the greatest contempt,\nwhich, from such a beautiful creature, we had every appearance of\ndeserving. Another day a little later we caught a wandering albatross, a\nblack-browed albatross, and a sooty albatross all together, and set them\non the deck tethered to the ventilators while their photographs were\ntaken. They were such beautiful birds that we were loath to kill them,\nbut their value as scientific specimens outweighed the wish to set them\nfree, and we gave them ether so that they did not suffer.\n\nThe Southern Ocean is the home of these and many species of birds, but\namong them the albatross is pre-eminent. It has been mentioned that\nWilson believed that the albatross, at any rate, fly round and round the\nworld over these stormy seas before the westerly winds, landing but once\na year on such islands as Kerguelen, St. Paul, the Auckland Islands and\nothers to breed. If so, the rest that they can obtain upon the big\nbreaking rollers which prevail in these latitudes must be unsatisfactory\njudged by the standard of more civilized birds. I have watched sea birds\nelsewhere of which the same individuals appeared to follow the ship day\nafter day for many thousands of miles, but on this voyage I came to the\nconclusion that a different set of birds appeared each morning, and that\nthey were hungry when they arrived. Certainly they flew astern and nearer\nto the ship in the morning, feeding on the scraps thrown overboard. As\nthe day went on and the birds' hunger was satisfied, they scattered, and\nsuch of them as continued to fly astern of the ship were a long way off.\nHence we caught the birds in the early morning, and only one bird was\ncaught after mid-day.\n\nThe wind continued favourable and was soon blowing quite hard. On Friday,\nOctober 7, we were doing 7.8 knots under sail alone, which was very good\nfor the old Terra Push, as she was familiarly called: and we were then\njust 1000 miles from Melbourne. By Saturday night we were standing by\ntopgallant halyards. Campbell took over the watch at 4 A.M. on Sunday\nmorning. It was blowing hard and squally, but the ship still carried\ntopgallants. There was a big following sea.\n\nAt 6.30 A.M. there occurred one of those incidents of sea life which are\ninteresting though not important. Quite suddenly the first really big\nsquall we had experienced on the voyage struck us. Topgallant halyards\nwere let go, and the fore topgallant yard came down, but the main\ntopgallant yard jammed when only half down. It transpired afterwards that\na gasket which had been blown over the yard had fouled the block of the\nsheet of the main upper topsail. The topgallant yard was all tilted to\nstarboard and swaying from side to side, the sail seemed as though it\nmight blow out at any moment, and was making a noise like big guns, and\nthe mast was shaking badly.\n\nIt was expected that the topgallant mast would go, but nothing could be\ndone while the full fury of the wind lasted. Campbell paced quietly up\nand down the bridge with a smile on his face. The watch was grouped round\nthe ratlines ready to go aloft, and Crean volunteered to go up alone and\ntry and free the yard, but permission was refused. It was touch and go\nwith the mast and there was nothing to be done.\n\nThe squall passed, the sail was freed and furled, and the next big squall\nfound us ready to lower upper topsails and all was well. Finally the\ndamage was a split sail and a strained mast.\n\nThe next morning a new topgallant sail was bent, but quite the biggest\nhailstorm I have ever seen came on in the middle of the operation. Much\nof the hail must have been inches in circumference, and hurt even through\nthick clothes and oilskins. At the same time there were several\nwaterspouts formed. The men on the topgallant yard had a beastly time.\nBelow on deck men made hail-balls and pretended they were snow.\n\nFrom now onwards we ran on our course before a gale. By the early morning\nof October 12 Cape Otway light was in sight. Working double tides in the\nengine-room, and with every stitch of sail set, we just failed to reach\nPort Phillip Heads by mid-day, when the tide turned, and it was\nimpossible to get through. We went up Melbourne Harbour that evening,\nvery dark and blowing hard.\n\nA telegram was waiting for Scott:\n\n \"Madeira. Am going South. AMUNDSEN.\"\n\nThis telegram was dramatically important, as will appear when we come to\nthe last act of the tragedy. Captain Roald Amundsen was one of the most\nnotable of living explorers, and was in the prime of life--forty-one, two\nyears younger than Scott. He had been in the Antarctic before Scott, with\nthe Belgica Expedition in 1897-99, and therefore did not consider the\nSouth Pole in any sense our property. Since then he had realized the\ndream of centuries of exploration by passing through the North-West\nPassage, and actually doing so in a 60-ton schooner in 1905. The last we\nhad heard of him was that he had equipped Nansen's old ship, the Fram,\nfor further exploration in the Arctic. This was only a feint. Once at\nsea, he had told his men that he was going south instead of north; and\nwhen he reached Madeira he sent this brief telegram, which meant, \"I\nshall be at the South Pole before you.\" It also meant, though we did not\nappreciate it at the time, that we were up against a very big man.\n\nThe Admiral Commanding the Australian Station came on board. The event of\nthe inspection was Nigger, the black ship's cat, distinguished by a white\nwhisker on the port side of his face, who made one adventurous voyage to\nthe Antarctic and came to an untimely end during the second. The seamen\nmade a hammock for him with blanket and pillow, and slung it forward\namong their own bedding. Nigger had turned in, not feeling very well,\nowing to the number of moths he had eaten, the ship being full of them.\nWhen awakened by the Admiral, Nigger had no idea of the importance of the\noccasion, but stretched himself, yawned in the most natural manner,\nturned over and went to sleep again.\n\nThis cat became a well-known and much photographed member of the crew of\nthe Terra Nova. He is said to have imitated the Romans of old, being a\ngreedy beast, by having eaten as much seal blubber as he could hold, made\nhimself sick, and gone back and resumed his meal. He had most beautiful\nfur. When the ship was returning from the Antarctic in 1911 Nigger was\nfrightened by something on deck and jumped into the sea, which was\nrunning fairly rough. However, the ship was hove to, a boat lowered, and\nNigger was rescued. He spent another happy year on board, but disappeared\none dark night when the ship was returning from her second journey to the\nSouth in 1912, during a big gale. He often went aloft with the men, of\nhis own accord. This night he was seen on the main lower topsail yard,\nhigher than which he never would go. He disappeared in a big squall,\nprobably because the yard was covered with ice.\n\nWilson rejoined the ship at Melbourne; and Scott left her, to arrange\nfurther business matters, and to rejoin in New Zealand. When he landed I\nthink he had seen enough of the personnel of the expedition to be able to\npass a fair judgment upon them. I cannot but think that he was pleased.\nSuch enthusiasm and comradeship as prevailed on board could bear only\ngood fruit. It would certainly have been possible to find a body of men\nwho could work a sailing ship with greater skill, but not men who were\nmore willing, and that in the midst of considerable discomfort, to work\nhard at distasteful jobs and be always cheerful. And it must have been\nclear that with all the energy which was being freely expended, the\nexpedition came first, and the individual nowhere. It is to the honour of\nall concerned that from the time it left London to the time it returned\nto New Zealand after three years, this spirit always prevailed.\n\nAmong the executive officers Scott was putting more and more trust in\nCampbell, who was to lead the Northern Party. He was showing those\ncharacteristics which enabled him to bring his small party safely through\none of the hardest winters that men have ever survived. Bowers also had\nshown seamanlike qualities which are an excellent test by which to judge\nthe Antarctic traveller; a good seaman in sail will probably make a\nuseful sledger: but at this time Scott can hardly have foreseen that\nBowers was to prove \"the hardest traveller that ever undertook a Polar\njourney, as well as one of the most undaunted.\" But he had already proved\nhimself a first-rate sailor. Among the junior scientific staff too,\nseveral were showing qualities as seamen which were a good sign for the\nfuture. Altogether I think it must have been with a cheerful mind that\nScott landed in Australia.\n\nWhen we left Melbourne for New Zealand we were all a bit stale, which was\nnot altogether surprising, and a run ashore was to do us a world of good\nafter five months of solid grind, crowded up in a ship which thought\nnothing of rolling 50° each way. Also, though everything had been done\nthat could be done to provide them, the want of fresh meat and\nvegetables was being felt, and it was an excellent thing that a body of\nmen, for whom every precaution against scurvy that modern science could\nsuggest was being taken, should have a good course of antiscorbutic food\nand an equally beneficial change of life before leaving civilization.\n\nAnd so it was with some anticipation that on Monday morning, October 24,\nwe could smell the land--New Zealand, that home of so many Antarctic\nexpeditions, where we knew that we should be welcomed. Scott's Discovery,\nShackleton's Nimrod, and now again Scott's Terra Nova have all in turn\nbeen berthed at the same quay in Lyttelton, for aught I know at the same\nNo. 5 Shed, into which they have spilled out their holds, and from which\nthey have been restowed with the addition of all that New Zealand,\nscorning payment, could give. And from there they have sailed, and\nthither their relief ships have returned year after year. Scott's words\nof the Discovery apply just as much to the Terra Nova. Not only did New\nZealand do all in her power to help the expedition in an official\ncapacity, but the New Zealanders welcomed both officers and men with open\narms, and \"gave them to understand that although already separated by\nmany thousands of miles from their native land, here in this new land\nthey would find a second home, and those who would equally think of them\nin their absence, and welcome them on their return.\"\n\nBut we had to sail round the southern coast of New Zealand and northwards\nup the eastern coast before we could arrive at our last port of call. The\nwind went ahead, and it was not until the morning of October 28 that we\nsailed through Lyttelton Heads. The word had gone forth that we should\nsail away on November 27, and there was much to be done in the brief\nmonth that lay ahead.\n\nThere followed four weeks of strenuous work into which was sandwiched a\nconsiderable amount of play. The ship was unloaded, when, as usual, men\nand officers acted alike as stevedores, and she was docked, that an\nexamination for the source of the leak might be made by Mr. H. J. Miller\nof Lyttelton, who has performed a like service for more than one\nAntarctic ship. But the different layers of sheathing protecting a ship\nwhich is destined to fight against ice are so complicated that it is a\nvery difficult matter to find the origin of a leak. All that can be said\nwith any certainty is that the point where the water appears inside the\nskin of the ship is almost certainly not the locality in which it has\npenetrated the outside sheathing. \"Our good friend Miller,\" wrote Scott,\n\"attacked the leak and traced it to the stern. We found the false stern\nsplit, and in one case a hole bored for a long-stern through-bolt which\nwas much too large for the bolt.... The ship still leaks but the water\ncan now be kept under with the hand pump by two daily efforts of a\nquarter of an hour to twenty minutes.\" This in Lyttelton; but in a not\nfar distant future every pump was choked, and we were baling with three\nbuckets, literally for our lives.\n\nBowers' feat of sorting and restowing not only the stores we had but the\ncheese, butter, tinned foods, bacon, hams and numerous other products\nwhich are grown in New Zealand, and which any expedition leaving that\ncountry should always buy there in preference to carrying them through\nthe tropics, was a masterstroke of clear-headedness and organization.\nThese stores were all relisted before stowing and the green-banded or\nNorthern Party and red-banded or Main Party stores were not only easily\ndistinguishable, but also stowed in such a way that they were forthcoming\nwithout difficulty at the right time and in their due order.\n\nThe two huts which were to form the homes of our two parties down South\nhad been brought out in the ship and were now erected on a piece of waste\nground near, by the same men who would be given the work to do in the\nSouth.\n\nThe gear peculiar to the various kinds of scientific work which it was\nthe object of the expedition to carry out was also stowed with great\ncare. The more bulky objects included a petrol engine and small dynamo, a\nvery delicate instrument for making pendulum observations to test the\ngravity of the earth, meteorological screens, and a Dines anemometer.\nThere was also a special hut for magnetic observations, of which only the\nframework was finally taken, with the necessary but bulky magnetic\ninstruments. The biological and photographic gear was also of\nconsiderable size.\n\nFor the interior of the huts there were beds with spring mattresses--a\nreal luxury but one well worth the space and money,--tables, chairs,\ncooking ranges and piping, and a complete acetylene gas plant for both\nparties. There were also extensive ventilators which were not a great\nsuccess. The problem of ventilation in polar regions still remains to be\nsolved.\n\nFood can be packed into a comparatively small space, but not so fuel, and\nthis is one of the greatest difficulties which confront the polar\ntraveller. It must be conceded that in this respect Norway, with her\nwonderful petrol-driven Fram, is far ahead of us. The Terra Nova depended\non coal, and the length of the ship's stay in the South, and the amount\nof exploration she could do after landing the shore parties, depended\nalmost entirely upon how much coal she could be persuaded to hold after\nall the necessaries of modern scientific exploration had been wedged\ntightly into her.\n\nThe Terra Nova sailed from New Zealand with 425 tons of coal in her holds\nand bunkers, and 30 tons on deck in sacks. We were to hear more of those\nsacks.\n\nMeanwhile stalls were being built under the forecastle for fifteen\nponies, and, since room could not be found below for the remaining four,\nstalls were built on the port side of the fore hatch; the decks were\ncaulked, and deck houses and other fittings which might carry away in the\nstormy seas of the South were further secured.\n\nAs the time of departure drew near, and each day of civilization appeared\nto be more and more desirable, the scene in Lyttelton became animated and\ncongested. Here is a scientist trying to force just one more case into\nhis small laboratory, or decanting a mass of clothing, just issued, into\nthe bottom of his bunk, to be slept on since there was no room for it on\nthe deck of his cabin. On the main deck Bowers is trying to get one more\nfrozen sheep into the ice-house, in the rigging working parties are\noverhauling the running gear. The engine-room staff are busy on the\nengine, and though the ship is crowded there is order everywhere, and it\nis clean.\n\nBut the scene on the morning of Saturday, November 26, baffles\ndescription. There is no deck visible: in addition to 30 tons of coal in\nsacks on deck there are 2½ tons of petrol, stowed in drums which in turn\nare cased in wood. On the top of sacks and cases, and on the roof of the\nice-house are thirty-three dogs, chained far enough apart to keep them\nfrom following their first instinct--to fight the nearest animal they can\nsee: the ship is a hubbub of howls. In the forecastle and in the four\nstalls on deck are the nineteen ponies, wedged tightly in their wooden\nstalls, and dwarfing everything are the three motor sledges in their huge\ncrates, 16´ x 5´ x 4´, two of them on either side of the main hatch, the\nthird across the break of the poop. They are covered with tarpaulins and\nsecured in every possible way, but it is clear that in a big sea their\nweight will throw a great strain upon the deck. It is not altogether a\ncheerful sight. But all that care and skill can do has been done to\nensure that the deck cargo will not shift, and that the animals may be as\nsheltered as possible from wind and seas. And it's no good worrying about\nwhat can't be helped.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n [36] Vide _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. ii. pp. 454-456.\n\n [37] \"Atmospheric Electricity over Ocean,\" by G. C. Simpson and\n C. S. Wright, _Pro. Roy. Soc._ A, vol. 85, 1911.\n\n [38] _See_ B.A.E., 1910, Nat. Hist. Report, vol. i. No. 3, p. 117.\n\n [39] Ibid. p. 111.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nSOUTHWARD\n\n\n Open the bones, and you shall nothing find\n In the best face but filth; when, Lord, in Thee\n The beauty lies in the discovery.\n GEORGE HERBERT.\n\n\nTelegrams from all parts of the world, special trains, all ships dressed,\ncrowds and waving hands, steamers out to the Heads and a general\nhullabaloo--these were the incidents of Saturday, November 26, 1910, when\nwe slipped from the wharf at Lyttelton at 3 P.M. We were to call at\nDunedin before leaving civilization, and arrived there on Sunday night.\nHere we took on the remainder of our coal. On Monday night we danced, in\nfantastic clothing for we had left our grand clothes behind, and sailed\nfinally for the South the following afternoon amidst the greatest\nenthusiasm. The wives remained with us until we reached the open sea.\n\nAmongst those who only left us at the last minute was Mr. Kinsey of\nChristchurch. He acted for Scott in New Zealand during the Discovery\ndays, and for Shackleton in 1907. We all owe him a deep debt of gratitude\nfor his help. \"His interest in the expedition is wonderful, and such\ninterest on the part of a thoroughly shrewd business man is an asset of\nwhich I have taken full advantage. Kinsey will act as my agent in\nChristchurch during my absence; I have given him an ordinary power of\nattorney, and I think have left him in possession of all the facts. His\nkindness to us was beyond words.\"[40]\n\n\"Evening.--Loom of land and Cape Saunders Light blinking.\"[41]\n\nThe ponies and dogs were the first consideration. Even in quite ordinary\nweather the dogs had a wretched time. \"The seas continually break on the\nweather bulwarks and scatter clouds of heavy spray over the backs of all\nwho must venture into the waist of the ship. The dogs sit with their\ntails to this invading water, their coats wet and dripping. It is a\npathetic attitude deeply significant of cold and misery; occasionally\nsome poor beast emits a long pathetic whine. The group forms a picture of\nwretched dejection; such a life is truly hard for these poor\ncreatures.\"[42]\n\nThe ponies were better off. Four of them were on deck amidships and they\nwere well boarded round. It is significant that these ponies had a much\neasier time in rough weather than those in the bows of the ship. \"Under\nthe forecastle fifteen ponies close side by side, seven one side, eight\nthe other, heads together, and groom between--swaying, swaying\ncontinually to the plunging, irregular motion.\"\n\n\"One takes a look through a hole in the bulkhead and sees a row of heads\nwith sad, patient eyes come swinging up together from the starboard side,\nwhilst those on the port swing back; then up come the port heads, while\nthe starboard recede. It seems a terrible ordeal for these poor beasts to\nstand this day after day for weeks together, and indeed though they\ncontinue to feed well the strain quickly drags down their weight and\ncondition; but nevertheless the trial cannot be gauged from human\nstandards.\"[43]\n\nThe seas through which we had to pass to reach the pack-ice must be the\nmost stormy in the world. Dante tells us that those who have committed\ncarnal sin are tossed about ceaselessly by the most furious winds in the\nsecond circle of Hell. The corresponding hell on earth is found in the\nsouthern oceans, which encircle the world without break, tempest-tossed\nby the gales which follow one another round and round the world from West\nto East. You will find albatross there--great Wanderers, and Sooties,\nand Mollymawks--sailing as lightly before these furious winds as ever do\nPaolo and Francesca. Round the world they go. I doubt whether they land\nmore than once a year, and then they come to the islands of these seas to\nbreed.\n\nThere are many other beautiful sea-birds, but most beautiful of all are\nthe Snowy petrels, which approach nearer to the fairies than anything\nelse on earth. They are quite white, and seemingly transparent. They are\nthe familiar spirits of the pack, which, except to nest, they seldom if\never leave, flying \"here and there independently in a mazy fashion,\nglittering against the blue sky like so many white moths, or shining\nsnowflakes.\"[44] And then there are the Giant petrels, whose coloration\nis a puzzle. Some are nearly white, others brown, and they exhibit every\nvariation between the one and the other. And, on the whole, the white\nforms become more general the farther south you go. But the usual theory\nof protective coloration will not fit in, for there are no enemies\nagainst which this bird must protect itself. Is it something to do with\nradiation of heat from the body?\n\nA ship which sets out upon this journey generally has a bad time, and for\nthis reason the overladen state of the Terra Nova was a cause of anxiety.\nThe Australasian meteorologists had done their best to forecast the\nweather we must expect. Everything which was not absolutely necessary had\nbeen ruthlessly scrapped. Yet there was not a square inch of the hold and\nbetween-decks which was not crammed almost to bursting, and there was as\nmuch on the deck as could be expected to stay there. Officers and men\ncould hardly move in their living quarters when standing up, and\ncertainly they could not all sit down. To say that we were heavy laden is\na very moderate statement of the facts.\n\nThursday, December 1, we ran into a gale. We shortened sail in the\nafternoon to lower topsails, jib and stay-sail. Both wind and sea rose\nwith great rapidity, and before the night came our deck cargo had begun\nto work loose. \"You know how carefully everything had been lashed, but no\nlashings could have withstood the onslaught of these coal sacks for\nlong. There was nothing for it but to grapple with the evil, and nearly\nall hands were labouring for hours in the waist of the ship, heaving coal\nsacks overboard and re-lashing the petrol cases, etc., in the best manner\npossible under such difficult and dangerous circumstances. The seas were\ncontinually breaking over these people and now and again they would be\ncompletely submerged. At such times they had to cling for dear life to\nsome fixture to prevent themselves being washed overboard, and with coal\nbags and loose cases washing about, there was every risk of such hold\nbeing torn away.\n\n\"No sooner was some semblance of order restored than some exceptionally\nheavy wave would tear away the lashing, and the work had to be done all\nover again.\"[45]\n\nThe conditions became much worse during the night and things were\ncomplicated for some of us by sea-sickness. I have lively recollections\nof being aloft for two hours in the morning watch on Friday and being\nsick at intervals all the time. For sheer downright misery give me a\nhurricane, not too warm, the yard of a sailing ship, a wet sail and a\nbout of sea-sickness.\n\nIt must have been about this time that orders were given to clew up the\njib and then to furl it. Bowers and four others went out on the bowsprit,\nbeing buried deep in the enormous seas every time the ship plunged her\nnose into them with great force. It was an education to see him lead\nthose men out into that roaring inferno. He has left his own vivid\nimpression of this gale in a letter home. His tendency was always to\nunderestimate difficulties, whether the force of wind in a blizzard, or\nthe troubles of a polar traveller. This should be remembered when reading\nthe vivid accounts which his mother has so kindly given me permission to\nuse:\n\n\"We got through the forties with splendid speed and were just over the\nfifties when one of those tremendous gales got us. Our Lat. was about 52°\nS., a part of the world absolutely unfrequented by shipping of any sort,\nand as we had already been blown off Campbell Island we had nothing but\na clear sweep to Cape Horn to leeward. One realized then how in the\nNimrod--in spite of the weather--they always had the security of a big\nsteamer to look to if things came to the worst. We were indeed alone, by\nmany hundreds of miles, and never having felt anxious about a ship\nbefore, the old whaler was to give me a new experience.\n\n\"In the afternoon of the beginning of the gale I helped make fast the\nT.G. sails, upper topsails and foresail, and was horrified on arrival on\ndeck to find that the heavy water we continued to ship, was starting the\ncoal bags floating in places. These, acting as battering-rams, tore\nadrift some of my carefully stowed petrol cases and endangered the lot. I\nhad started to make sail fast at 3 P.M. and it was 9.30 P.M. when I had\nfinished putting on additional lashings to everything I could. So rapidly\ndid the sea get up that one was continually afloat and swimming about. I\nturned in for 2 hours and lay awake hearing the crash of the seas and\nthinking how long those cases would stand it, till my watch came at\nmidnight as a relief. We were under 2 lower topsails and hove to, the\nengines going dead slow to assist keeping head to wind. At another time I\nshould have been easy in my mind; now the water that came aboard was\nsimply fearful, and the wrenching on the old ship was enough to worry any\nsailor called upon to fill his decks with garbage fore and aft. Still\n'Risk nothing and do nothing,' if funds could not supply another ship, we\nsimply had to overload the one we had, or suffer worse things down south.\nThe watch was eventful as the shaking up got the fine coal into the\nbilges, and this mixing with the oil from the engines formed balls of\ncoal and grease which, ordinarily, went up the pumps easily; now however\nwith the great strains, and hundreds of tons on deck, as she continually\nfilled, the water started to come in too fast for the half-clogged pumps\nto cope with. An alternative was offered to me in going faster so as to\nshake up the big pump on the main engines, and this I did--in spite of\nmyself--and in defiance of the first principles of seamanship. Of course,\nwe shipped water more and more, and only to save a clean breach of the\ndecks did I slow down again and let the water gain. My next card was to\nget the watch on the hand-pumps as well, and these were choked, too, or\nnearly so.\n\n\"Anyhow with every pump,--hand and steam,--going, the water continued to\nrise in the stokehold. At 4 A.M. all hands took in the fore lower\ntopsail, leaving us under a minimum of sail. The gale increased to storm\nforce (force 11 out of 12) and such a sea got up as only the Southern\nFifties can produce. All the afterguard turned out and the pumps were\nvigorously shaken up,--sickening work as only a dribble came out. We had\nto throw some coal overboard to clear the after deck round the pumps, and\nI set to work to rescue cases of petrol which were smashed adrift. I\nbroke away a plank or two of the lee bulwarks to give the seas some\noutlet as they were right over the level of the rail, and one was\nconstantly on the verge of floating clean over the side with the cataract\nforce of the backwash. I had all the swimming I wanted that day. Every\ncase I rescued was put on the weather side of the poop to help get us on\na more even keel. She sagged horribly and the unfortunate ponies,--though\nunder cover,--were so jerked about that the weather ones could not keep\ntheir feet in their stalls, so great was the slope and strain on their\nforelegs. Oates and Atkinson worked among them like Trojans, but morning\nsaw the death of one, and the loss of one dog overboard. The dogs, made\nfast on deck, were washed to and fro, chained by the neck, and often\nsubmerged for a considerable time. Though we did everything in our power\nto get them up as high as possible, the sea went everywhere. The wardroom\nwas a swamp and so were our bunks with all our nice clothing, books, etc.\nHowever, of this we cared little, when the water had crept up to the\nfurnaces and put the fires out, and we realized for the first time that\nthe ship had met her match and was slowly filling. Without a pump to suck\nwe started the forlorn hope of buckets and began to bale her out. Had we\nbeen able to open a hatch we could have cleared the main pump well at\nonce, but with those appalling seas literally covering her, it would\nhave meant less than 10 minutes to float, had we uncovered a hatch.\n\n\"The Chief Engineer (Williams) and carpenter (Davies), after we had all\nput our heads together, started cutting a hole in the engine room\nbulkhead, to enable us to get into the pump-well from the engine room; it\nwas iron and, therefore, at least a 12 hours job. Captain Scott was\nsimply splendid, he might have been at Cowes, and to do him and Teddy\nEvans credit, at our worst strait none of our landsmen who were working\nso hard knew how serious things were. Capt. Scott said to me quietly--'I\nam afraid it's a bad business for us--What do you think?' I said we were\nby no means dead yet, though at that moment, Oates, at peril of his life,\ngot aft to report another horse dead; and more down. And then an awful\nsea swept away our lee bulwarks clean, between the fore and main\nriggings,--only our chain lashings saved the lee motor sledge then, and I\nwas soon diving after petrol cases. Captain Scott calmly told me that\nthey 'did not matter'--This was our great project for getting to the\nPole--the much advertised motors that 'did not matter'; our dogs looked\nfinished, and horses were finishing, and I went to bale with a strenuous\nprayer in my heart, and 'Yip-i-addy' on my lips, and so we pulled through\nthat day. We sang and re-sang every silly song we ever knew, and then\neverybody in the ship later on was put on 2-hour reliefs to bale, as it\nwas impossible for flesh to keep heart with no food or rest. Even the\nfresh-water pump had gone wrong so we drank neat lime juice, or anything\nthat came along, and sat in our saturated state awaiting our next spell.\nMy dressing gown was my great comfort as it was not very wet, and it is a\nlovely warm thing.\n\n\"To make a long yarn short, we found later in the day that the storm was\neasing a bit and that though there was a terrible lot of water in the\nship, which, try as we could, we could not reduce, it certainly had\nceased to rise to any great extent. We had reason to hope then that we\nmight keep her afloat till the pump wells could be cleared. Had the storm\nlasted another day, God knows what our state would have been, if we had\nbeen above water at all. You cannot imagine how utterly helpless we felt\nin such a sea with a tiny ship,--the great expedition with all its hopes\nthrown aside for its life. God had shown us the weakness of man's hand\nand it was enough for the best of us,--the people who had been made such\na lot of lately--the whole scene was one of pathos really. However, at 11\nP.M. Evans and I with the carpenter were able to crawl through a tiny\nhole in the bulkhead, burrow over the coal to the pump-well cofferdam,\nwhere, another hole having been easily made in the wood, we got down\nbelow with Davy lamps and set to work. The water was so deep that you had\nto continually dive to get your hand on to the suction. After 2 hours or\nso it was cleared for the time being and the pumps worked merrily. I went\nin again at 4.30 A.M. and had another lap at clearing it. Not till the\nafternoon of the following day, though, did we see the last of the water\nand the last of the great gale. During the time the pumps were working,\nwe continued the baling till the water got below the furnaces. As soon as\nwe could light up, we did, and got the other pumps under weigh, and, once\nthe ship was empty, clearing away the suction was a simple matter. I was\npleased to find that after all I had only lost about 100 gallons of the\npetrol and bad as things had been they might have been worse....\n\n\"You will ask where all the water came from seeing our forward leak had\nbeen stopped. Thank God we did not have that to cope with as well. The\nwater came chiefly through the deck where the tremendous strain,--not\nonly of the deck load, but of the smashing seas,--was beyond conception.\nShe was caught at a tremendous disadvantage and we were dependent for our\nlives on each plank standing its own strain. Had one gone we would all\nhave gone, and the great anxiety was not so much the existing water as\nwhat was going to open up if the storm continued. We might have dumped\nthe deck cargo, a difficult job at best, but were too busy baling to do\nanything else....\n\n\"That Captain Scott's account will be moderate you may be sure. Still,\ntake my word for it, he is one of the best, and behaved up to our best\ntraditions at a time when his own outlook must have been the blackness of\ndarkness....\"\n\nCharacteristically Bowers ends his account:\n\n\"Under its worst conditions this earth is a good place to live in.\"\n\nPriestley wrote in his diary:\n\n\"If Dante had seen our ship as she was at her worst, I fancy he would\nhave got a good idea for another Circle of Hell, though he would have\nbeen at a loss to account for such a cheerful and ribald lot of Souls.\"\n\nThe situation narrowed down to a fight between the incoming water and the\nmen who were trying to keep it in check by baling her out. The Terra Nova\nwill never be more full of water, nearly up to the furnaces, than she was\nthat Friday morning, when we were told to go and do our damndest with\nthree iron buckets. The constructors had not allowed for baling, only for\nthe passage of one man at a time up and down the two iron ladders which\nconnected the engine-room floor plates with the deck. If we used more\nthan three buckets the business of passing them rapidly up, emptying them\nout of the hatchway, and returning them empty, became unprofitable. We\nwere divided into two gangs, and all Friday and Friday night we worked\ntwo hours on and two hours off, like fiends.\n\nWilson's Journal describes the scene:\n\n\"It was a weird night's work with the howling gale and the darkness and\nthe immense seas running over the ship every few minutes and no engines\nand no sail, and we all in the engine-room oil and bilge water, singing\nchanties as we passed up slopping buckets full of bilge, each man above\nslopping a little over the heads of all below him; wet through to the\nskin, so much so that some of the party worked altogether naked like\nChinese coolies; and the rush of the wave backwards and forwards at the\nbottom grew hourly less in the dim light of a couple of engine-room oil\nlamps whose light just made the darkness visible, the ship all the time\nrolling like a sodden lifeless log, her lee gunwale under water every\ntime.\"\n\n\"There was one thrilling moment in the midst of the worst hour on Friday\nwhen we were realizing that the fires must be drawn, and when every pump\nhad failed to act, and when the bulwarks began to go to pieces and the\npetrol cases were all afloat and going overboard, and the word was\nsuddenly passed in a shout from the hands at work in the waist of the\nship trying to save petrol cases that smoke was coming up through the\nseams in the afterhold. As this was full of coal and patent fuel and was\nnext the engine-room, and as it had not been opened for the airing it\nrequired to get rid of gas, on account of the flood of water on deck\nmaking it impossible to open the hatchway, the possibility of a fire\nthere was patent to every one, and it could not possibly have been dealt\nwith in any way short of opening the hatches and flooding the ship, when\nshe must have foundered. It was therefore a thrilling moment or two until\nit was discovered that the smoke was really steam, arising from the bilge\nat the bottom having risen to the heated coal.\"[46]\n\nMeanwhile men were working for all our lives to cut through two bulkheads\nwhich cut off all communication with the suction of the hand-pumps. One\nbulkhead was iron, the other wood.\n\nScott wrote at this time:\n\n\"We are not out of the wood, but hope dawns, as indeed it should for me,\nwhen I find myself so wonderfully served. Officers and men are singing\nchanties over their arduous work. Williams is working in sweltering heat\nbehind the boiler to get the door made in the bulkhead. Not a single one\nhas lost his good spirits. A dog was drowned last night, one pony is dead\nand two others in a bad condition--probably they too will go.\nOccasionally a heavy sea would bear one of them away, and he was only\nsaved by his chain. Meares with some helpers had constantly to be\nrescuing these wretched creatures from hanging, and trying to find them\nbetter shelter, an almost hopeless task. One poor beast was found hanging\nwhen dead; one was washed away with such force that his chain broke and\nhe disappeared overboard; the next wave miraculously washed him on board\nagain and he is fit and well. [I believe the dog was Osman.] The gale has\nexacted heavy toll, but I feel all will be well if we can only cope with\nthe water. Another dog has just been washed overboard--alas! Thank God\nthe gale is abating. The sea is still mountainously high but the ship is\nnot labouring so heavily as she was.\"[47]\n\nThe highest waves of which I can find any record were 36 feet high. These\nwere observed by Sir James C. Ross in the North Atlantic.[48]\n\nOn December 2 the waves were logged, probably by Pennell, who was\nextremely careful in his measurements, as being 'thirty-five feet high\n(estimated).' At one time I saw Scott, standing on the weather rail of\nthe poop, buried to his waist in green sea. The reader can then imagine\nthe condition of things in the waist of the ship, \"over and over again\nthe rail, from the fore-rigging to the main, was covered by a solid sheet\nof curling water which swept aft and high on the poop.\"[49] At another\ntime Bowers and Campbell were standing upon the bridge, and the ship\nrolled sluggishly over until the lee combings of the main hatch were\nunder the sea. They watched anxiously, and slowly she righted herself,\nbut \"she won't do that often,\" said Bowers. As a rule if a ship gets that\nfar over she goes down.\n\n * * * * *\n\nOur journey was uneventful for a time, but of course it was not by any\nmeans smooth. \"I was much disturbed last night by the motion; the ship\nwas pitching and twisting with short sharp movements on a confused sea,\nand with every plunge my thoughts flew to our poor ponies. This afternoon\nthey are fairly well, but one knows that they must be getting weaker as\ntime goes on, and one longs to give them a good sound rest with a ship on\nan even keel. Poor patient beasts! One wonders how far the memory of\nsuch fearful discomfort will remain with them--animals so often remember\nplaces and conditions where they have encountered difficulties or hurt.\nDo they only recollect circumstances which are deeply impressed by some\nshock of fear or sudden pain, and does the remembrance of prolonged\nstrain pass away? Who can tell? But it would seem strangely merciful if\nnature should blot out these weeks of slow but inevitable torture.\"[50]\n\nOn December 7, noon position 61° 22´ S., 179° 56´ W., one berg was\nsighted far away to the west, as it gleamed every now and then in the\nsun. Two more were seen the next day, and at 6.22 A.M. on December 9,\nnoon position 65° 8´ S., 177° 41´ W., the pack was sighted ahead by\nRennick. All that day we passed bergs and streams of ice. The air became\ndry and bracing, the sea was calm, and the sun shining on the islands of\nice was more than beautiful. And then Bump! We had just charged the first\nbig floe, and we were in the pack.\n\n\"The sky has been wonderful, with every form of cloud in every condition\nof light and shade; the sun has continually appeared through breaks in\nthe cloudy heavens from time to time, brilliantly illuminating some field\nof pack, some steep-walled berg, or some patch of bluest sea. So sunlight\nand shadow have chased each other across our scene. To-night there is\nlittle or no swell--the ship is on an even keel, steady, save for the\noccasional shocks on striking ice.\n\n\"It is difficult to express the sense of relief this steadiness gives\nafter our storm-tossed passage. One can only imagine the relief and\ncomfort afforded to the ponies, but the dogs are visibly cheered and the\nhuman element is full of gaiety. The voyage seems full of promise in\nspite of the imminence of delay.\"[51]\n\nWe had met the pack farther north than any other ship.\n\nWhat is pack? Speaking very generally indeed, in this region it is the\nsea-ice which forms over the Ross Sea area during the winter, and is\nblown northwards by the southerly blizzards. But as we shall see, the\nice which forms over this area is of infinite variety. As a rule great\nsheets spread over the seas which fringe the Antarctic continent in the\nautumn, grow thicker and thicker during the winter and spring, and break\nup when the temperatures of sea and air rise in summer. Such is the ice\nwhich forms in normal seasons round the shores of McMurdo Sound, and up\nthe coast of the western mountains of Victoria Land. In sheltered bays\nthis ice will sometimes remain in for two years or even more, growing all\nthe time, until some phenomenal break-up releases it. We found an example\nof this in the sea-ice which formed between Hut Point and the Barrier.\nBut there are great waters which can never freeze for very long. Cape\nCrozier, for instance, where the Emperor penguins nest in winter, is one\nof the windiest places in the world. In July it was completely frozen\nover as far as we could see in the darkness from a height of 900 feet.\nWithin a few days a hurricane had blown it all away, and the sea was\nblack.\n\nI believe, and we had experiences to prove me right, that there is a\ncritical period early in the winter, and that if sea-ice has not frozen\nthick enough to remain fast by that time, it is probable that the sea\nwill remain open for the rest of the year. But this does not mean that no\nice will form. So great is the wish of the sea to freeze, and so cold is\nthe air, that the wind has only to lull for one instant and the surface\nis covered with a thin film of ice, as though by magic. But the next\nblizzard tears it out by force or a spring tide coaxes it out by stealth,\nwhether it be a foot thick or only a fraction of an inch. Such an example\nwe had at our very doors during our last winter, and the untamed winds\nwhich blew as a result were atrocious.\n\nThus it is that floes from a few inches to twenty feet thick go voyaging\nout to join the belt of ice which is known as the pack. Scott seems to\nhave thought that the whole Ross Sea freezes over.[52] I myself think\nthis doubtful, and I am, I believe, the only person living who has seen\nthe Ross Sea open in mid-winter. This was on the Winter Journey\nundertaken by Wilson, Bowers and myself in pursuit of Emperor penguin\neggs--but of that later.\n\nIt is clear that winds and currents are, broadly speaking, the governing\nfactors of the density of pack-ice. By experience we know that clear\nwater may be found in the autumn where great tracts of ice barred the way\nin summer. The tendency of the pack is northwards, where the ice melts\ninto the warmer waters. But the bergs remain when all traces of the pack\nhave disappeared, and, drifting northwards still, form the menace to\nshipping so well known to sailors rounding the Horn. It is not hard to\nimagine that one monster ice island of twenty miles in length, such as do\nhaunt these seas, drifting into navigated waters and calving into\nhundreds of great bergs as it goes, will in itself produce what seamen\ncall a bad year for ice. And the last stages of these, when the bergs\nhave degenerated into 'growlers,' are even worse, for then the sharpest\neye can hardly distinguish them as they float nearly submerged though\nthey have lost but little of their powers of evil.\n\nThere are two main types of Antarctic berg. The first and most common is\nthe tabular form. Bergs of this shape cruise about in thousands and\nthousands. A less common form is known as the pinnacled berg, and in\nalmost every case this is a tabular berg which has been weathered or has\ncapsized. The number of bergs which calve direct from a mountain glacier\ninto the sea is probably not very great. Whence then do they come?\n\nThe origin of the tabular bergs was debated until a few years ago. They\nhave been recorded up to forty and even fifty miles in length, and they\nhave been called floe bergs, because it was supposed that they froze\nfirst as ordinary sea-ice and increased by subsequent additions from\nbelow. But now we know that these bergs calve off from the Antarctic\nBarriers, the largest of which is known as the Great Ice Barrier, which\nforms the southern boundary of the Ross Sea. We were to become very\nfamiliar with this vast field of ice. We know that its northern face is\nafloat, we guess that it may all be afloat. At any rate the open sea now\nwashes against its face at least forty miles south of where it ran in\nthe days of Ross. Though this Barrier may be the largest in the world, it\nis one of many. The most modern review of this mystery, Scott's article\non The Great Ice Barrier, must serve until the next first-hand\nexamination by some future explorer.\n\nA berg shows only about one-eighth of its total mass above water, and a\nberg two hundred feet high will therefore reach approximately fourteen\nhundred feet below the surface of the sea. Winds and currents have far\nmore influence upon them than they have upon the pack, through which\nthese bergs plough their way with a total disregard for such flimsy\nobstacles, and cause much chaos as they go. For the rest woe betide the\nship which is so fixed into the pack that she cannot move if one of these\nmonsters bears down upon her.\n\nWords cannot tell the beauty of the scenes through which we were to pass\nduring the next three weeks. I suppose the pack in winter must be a\nterrible place enough: a place of darkness and desolation hardly to be\nfound elsewhere. But forms which under different conditions can only\nbetoken horror now conveyed to us impressions of the utmost peace and\nbeauty, for the sun had kissed them all.\n\n\"We have had a marvellous day. The morning watch was cloudy, but it\ngradually cleared until the sky was a brilliant blue, fading on the\nhorizon into green and pink. The floes were pink, floating in a deep blue\nsea, and all the shadows were mauve. We passed right under a monster\nberg, and all day have been threading lake after lake and lead after\nlead. 'There is Regent Street,' said somebody, and for some time we drove\nthrough great streets of perpendicular walls of ice. Many a time they\nwere so straight that one imagined they had been cut off with a ruler\nsome hundreds of yards in length.\"[53]\n\n\n[Illustration: MIDNIGHT--E. A. Wilson, del.]\n\nOn another occasion:\n\n\"Stayed on deck till midnight. The sun just dipped below the southern\nhorizon. The scene was incomparable. The northern sky was gloriously rosy\nand reflected in the calm sea between the ice, which varied from\nburnished copper to salmon pink; bergs and pack to the north had a\npale greenish hue with deep purple shadows, the sky shaded to saffron and\npale green. We gazed long at these beautiful effects.\"[54]\n\nBut this was not always so. There was one day with rain, there were days\nof snow and hail and cold wet slush, and fog. \"The position to-night is\nvery cheerless. All hope that this easterly wind will open the pack seems\nto have vanished. We are surrounded with compacted floes of immense area.\nOpenings appear between these floes and we slide crab-like from one to\nanother with long delays between. It is difficult to keep hope alive.\nThere are streaks of water sky over open leads to the north, but\neverywhere to the south we have the uniform white sky. The day has been\novercast and the wind force 3 to 5 from the E.N.E.--snow has fallen from\ntime to time. There could scarcely be a more dreary prospect for the eye\nto rest upon.\"[55]\n\nWith the open water we left behind the albatross and the Cape pigeon\nwhich had accompanied us lately for many months. In their place we found\nthe Antarctic petrel, \"a richly piebald bird that appeared to be almost\nblack and white against the ice floes,\"[56] and the Snowy petrel, of\nwhich I have already spoken.\n\nNo one of us whose privilege it was to be there will forget our first\nsight of the penguins, our first meal of seal meat, or that first big\nberg along which we coasted close in order that London might see it on\nthe film. Hardly had we reached the thick pack, which prevailed after the\nsuburbs had been passed, when we saw the little Adélie penguins hurrying\nto meet us. Great Scott, they seemed to say, what's this, and soon we\ncould hear the cry which we shall never forget. \"Aark, aark,\" they said,\nand full of wonder and curiosity, and perhaps a little out of breath,\nthey stopped every now and then to express their feelings, \"and to gaze\nand cry in wonder to their companions; now walking along the edge of a\nfloe in search of a narrow spot to jump and so avoid the water, and with\nhead down and much hesitation judging the width of the narrow gap, to\ngive a little standing jump across as would a child, and running on the\nfaster to make up for its delay. Again, coming to a wider lead of water\nnecessitating a plunge, our inquisitive visitor would be lost for a\nmoment, to reappear like a jack-in-the-box on a nearer floe, where\nwagging his tail, he immediately resumed his race towards the ship. Being\nnow but a hundred yards or so from us he pokes his head constantly\nforward on this side and on that, to try and make out something of the\nnew strange sight, crying aloud to his friends in his amazement, and\nexhibiting the most amusing indecision between his desire for further\ninvestigation and doubt as to the wisdom and propriety of closer contact\nwith so huge a beast.\"[57]\n\nThey are extraordinarily like children, these little people of the\nAntarctic world, either like children, or like old men, full of their own\nimportance and late for dinner, in their black tail-coats and white\nshirt-fronts--and rather portly withal. We used to sing to them, as they\nto us, and you might often see \"a group of explorers on the poop, singing\n'She has rings on her fingers and bells on her toes, and she shall have\nmusic wherever she goes,' and so on at the top of their voices to an\nadmiring group of Adélie penguins.\"[58]\n\nMeares used to sing to them what he called 'God save,' and declared that\nit would always send them headlong into the water. He sang flat: perhaps\nthat was why.\n\nTwo or more penguins will combine to push a third in front of them\nagainst a skua gull, which is one of their enemies, for he eats their\neggs or their young if he gets the chance. They will refuse to dive off\nan ice-foot until they have persuaded one of their companions to take the\nfirst jump, for fear of the sea-leopard which may be waiting in the water\nbelow, ready to seize them and play with them much as a cat will play\nwith a mouse. As Levick describes in his book about the penguins at Cape\nAdare: \"At the place where they most often went in, a long terrace of ice\nabout six feet in height ran for some hundreds of yards along the edge\nof the water, and here, just as on the sea-ice, crowds would stand near\nthe brink. When they had succeeded in pushing one of their number over,\nall would crane their necks over the edge, and when they saw the pioneer\nsafe in the water, the rest followed.\"[59]\n\nIt is clear then that the Adélie penguin will show a certain spirit of\nselfishness in tackling his hereditary enemies. But when it comes to the\ndanger of which he is ignorant his courage betrays want of caution.\nMeares and Dimitri exercised the dog-teams out upon the larger floes when\nwe were held up for any length of time. One day a team was tethered by\nthe side of the ship, and a penguin sighted them and hurried from afar\noff. The dogs became frantic with excitement as he neared them: he\nsupposed it was a greeting, and the louder they barked and the more they\nstrained at their ropes, the faster he bustled to meet them. He was\nextremely angry with a man who went and saved him from a very sudden end,\nclinging to his trousers with his beak, and furiously beating his shins\nwith his flippers. It was not an uncommon sight to see a little Adélie\npenguin standing within a few inches of the nose of a dog which was\nalmost frantic with desire and passion.\n\nThe pack-ice is the home of the immature penguins, both Emperor and\nAdélie. But we did not see any large numbers of immature Emperors during\nthis voyage.\n\nWe soon became acquainted with the sea-leopard, which waits under the\nice-foot for the little penguins; he is a brute, but sinuous and graceful\nas the seal world goes. He preys especially upon the Adélie penguin, and\nLevick found no less than eighteen penguins, together with the remains of\nmany others, in the stomach of one sea-leopard. In the water the leopard\nseems \"a trifle faster than the Adélies, as one of them occasionally\nwould catch up with one of the fugitives, who then, realizing that speed\nalone would not avail him, started dodging from side to side, and\nsometimes swam rapidly round and round in a circle of about twelve feet\ndiameter for a full minute or more, doubtless knowing that he was\nquicker in turning than his great heavy pursuer, but exhaustion would\novertake him in the end, and we could see the head and jaws of the great\nsea-leopard rise to the surface as he grabbed his victim. The sight of a\npanic-stricken little Adélie tearing round and round in this manner was\nsadly common late in the season.\"[60]\n\nFish and small seal have also been found in its stomach. With long\npowerful head and neck and a sinuous body, it is equipped with most\nformidable teeth with which it tears strips out of the still living\nbirds, and flippers which are adapted entirely for speed in the water. It\nis a solitary animal with a large range of distribution. It has been\nsupposed to bring forth its young in the pack, but nothing definite is\nknown on this subject. One day we saw a big sea-leopard swimming along\nwith the ship. He dived under the floes and reappeared from floe to floe\nas we went, and for a time we thought he was interested in us. But soon\nwe sighted another lying away on a floe, and our friend in the water\nbegan to rear his head up perpendicularly, and seemed to be trying to\nwind his mate, as we supposed. He was down wind from her, and appeared to\nfind her at a distance of 150 to 200 yards, and the last we saw of him he\nwas heading up the side of the floe where she lay.\n\nThere are four kinds of seal in the Antarctic; of one of these, the\nsea-leopard, I have already spoken. Another is called the Ross seal, for\nSir James Ross discovered it in 1840. It seems to be a solitary beast,\nliving in the pack, and is peculiar for its \"pug-like expression of\ncountenance.\"[61] It has always been rare, and no single specimen was\nseen on this expedition, though the Terra Nova must have passed through\nmore pack than most whalers see in a life-time. It looks as if the Ross\nseal is more rare than was supposed.\n\n[Illustration: A SEA LEOPARD]\n\n[Illustration: A WEDDELL SEAL]\n\nThe very common seal of the Antarctic is the Weddell, which seldom lives\nin the pack but spends its life catching fish close to the shores of the\ncontinent, and digesting them, when caught, lying sluggishly upon the\nice-foot. We came to know them later in their hundreds in McMurdo Sound,\nfor the Weddell is a land-loving seal and is only found in large numbers\nnear the coast. Just at this time it was the crab-eating seal which we\nsaw very fairly often, generally several of them together, but never in\nlarge numbers.\n\nWilson has pointed out in his article upon seals in the Discovery\nReport[62] that the Weddell and the crab-eater seal, which are the two\ncommoner of the Antarctic seals, have agreed to differ both in habit and\nin diet, and therefore they share the field successfully. He shows that\n\"the two penguins which share the same area have differentiated in a\nsomewhat similar manner.\" The Weddell seal and the Emperor penguin \"have\nthe following points in common, namely, a littoral distribution, a fish\ndiet and residential non-migratory habit, remaining as far south the\nwhole year round as open water will allow; whereas the other two (the\ncrab-eating seal and the Adélie penguin) have in common a more pelagic\nhabit, a crustacean diet, and a distribution definitely migratory in the\ncase of the penguin, and although not so definitely migratory in the case\nof the seal, yet checked from coming so far south as Weddell's seal in\nwinter by a strong tendency to keep in touch with pelagic ice.\"[63]\nWilson considers that the advantage lies in each case with the\n\"non-migratory and more southern species,\" i.e. the Weddell seal and\nthe Emperor penguin. I doubt whether he would confirm this now. The\nEmperor penguin, weighing six stones and more, seems to me to have a very\nmuch harder fight for life than the little Adélie.\n\nBefore the Discovery started from England in 1901 an 'Antarctic Manual'\nwas produced by the Royal Geographical Society, giving a summary of the\ninformation which existed up to that date about this part of the world.\nIt is interesting reading, and to the Antarctic student it proves how\nlittle was known in some branches of science at that date, and what\nstrides were made during the next few years. To read what was known of\nthe birds and beasts of the Antarctic and then to read Wilson's\nZoological Report of the Discovery Expedition is an education in what one\nman can still do in an out-of-the-way part of the world to elucidate the\nproblems which await him.\n\nThe teeth of a crab-eating seal \"are surmounted by perhaps the most\ncomplicated arrangement of cusps found in any living mammal.\"[64] The\nmouth is so arranged that the teeth of the upper jaw fit into those of\nthe lower, and \"the cusps form a perfect sieve ... a hitherto\nunparalleled function for the teeth of a mammal.\"[65] The food of this\nseal consists mainly of Euphausiae, animals much like shrimps, which it\ndoubtless keeps in its mouth while it expels the water through its teeth,\nlike those whales which sift their food through their baleen plates.\"\nThis development of cusps in the teeth of the [crab-eating seal] is\nprobably a more perfect adaptation to this purpose than in any other\nmammal, and has been produced at the cost of all usefulness in the teeth\nas grinders. The grit, however, which forms a fairly constant part of the\ncontents of the stomach and intestines, serves, no doubt, to grind up the\nshells of the crustaceans, and in this way the necessity for grinders is\ncompletely obviated.\"[66]\n\nThe sea-leopard has a very formidable set of teeth suitable for his\ncarnivorous diet. The Weddell, living on fish, has a more simple group,\nbut these are liable to become very worn in old age, due to his habit of\ngnawing out holes in the ice for himself, so graphically displayed on\nPonting's cinematograph. When he feels death approaching, the crab-eating\nseal, never inclined to live in the company of more than a few of his\nkind, becomes still more solitary. The Weddell seal will travel far up\nthe glaciers of South Victoria Land, and there we have found them lying\ndead. But the crab-eating seal will wander even farther. He leaves the\npack. \"Thirty miles from the sea-shore and 3000 feet above sea-level,\ntheir carcases were found on quite a number of occasions, and it is hard\nto account for such vagaries on other grounds than that a sick animal\nwill go any distance to get away from its companions\"[67] (and perhaps it\nshould be added from its enemies).\n\nOften the under sides of the floes were coloured a peculiar yellow. This\ncoloration is caused by minute unicellular plants called diatoms. The\nfloating life of the Antarctic is most dense. \"Diatoms were so abundant\nin parts of the Ross Sea, that a large plankton net (18 meshes to an\ninch) became choked in a few minutes with them and other members of the\nPhytoplankton. It is extremely probable that in such localities whales\nfeed upon the plants as well as the animals of the plankton.\"[68] I do\nnot know to what extent these open waters are frequented by whales during\nthe winter, but in the summer months they are full of them, right down to\nthe fringe of the continent. Most common of all is the kind of sea-wolf\nknown as the Killer Whale, who measures 30 feet long. He hunts in packs\nup to at least a hundred strong, and as we now know, he does not confine\nhis attacks to seal and other whales, but will also hunt man, though\nperhaps he mistakes him for a seal. This whale is a toothed beast and a\nflesh-eater, and is more properly a dolphin. But it seems that there are\nat least five or six other kinds of whales, some of which do not\npenetrate south of the pack, while others cruise in large numbers right\nup to the edge of the fast ice. They feed upon the minute surface life of\nthese seas, and large numbers of them were seen not only by the Terra\nNova on her various cruises, but also by the shore parties in the waters\nof McMurdo Sound. In both Wilson and Lillie we had skilled whale\nobservers, and their work has gone far to elucidate the still obscure\nquestions of whale distribution in the South.\n\nThe pack-ice offers excellent opportunities for the identification of\nwhales, because their movements are more restricted than in the open\nocean. In order to identify, the observer generally has only the blow,\nand then the shape of the back and fin as the whale goes down, to guide\nhim. In the pack he sometimes gets more, as in the case of Balaenoptera\nacutorostrata (Piked whale) on March 3, 1911. The ship \"was ploughing her\nway through thick pack-ice, in which the water was freezing between the\nfloes, so that the only open spaces for miles around were those made by\nthe slow movement of the ship. We saw several of these whales during the\nday, making use of the holes in the ice near the ship for the purpose of\nblowing. There was scarcely room between the floes for the whales to come\nup to blow in their usual manner, which consists in rising almost\nhorizontally, and breaking the surface of the water with their backs. On\nthis occasion they pushed their snouts obliquely out of the water, nearly\nas far as the eye, and after blowing, withdrew them below the water\nagain. Commander Pennell noted that several times one rested its head on\na floe not twenty feet from the ship, with its nostrils just on the\nwater-line; raising itself a few inches, it would blow and then subside\nagain for a few minutes to its original position with its snout resting\non the floe. They took no notice of pieces of coal which were thrown at\nthem by the men on board the ship.\"[69]\n\nBut no whale which we saw in the pack, and we often saw it elsewhere\nalso, was so imposing as the great Blue whale, some of which were\npossibly more than 100 feet long. \"We used to watch this huge whale come\nto the surface again and again to blow, at intervals of thirty to forty\nseconds, and from the fact that at each of four or five appearances no\nvestige of a dorsal fin was visible, we began to wonder whether we had\nnot found the Right whale that was once reported to be so abundant in\nRoss Sea. Again and again the spout went up into the cold air, a white\ntwelve-foot column of condensed moisture, followed by a smooth broad\nback, and yet no fin. For some time we remained uncertain as to its\nidentity, till at last in sounding for a longer disappearance and a\ngreater depth than usual, the hinder third of the enormous beast appeared\nabove the surface for the first time with its little angular dorsal fin,\nat once dispelling any doubts we might have had.\"[70]\n\nIt is supposed to be the largest mammal that has ever existed.[71] As it\ncomes up to blow, \"one sees first a small dark hump appear and then\nimmediately a jet of grey fog squirted upwards fifteen to eighteen feet,\ngradually spreading as it rises vertically into the frosty air. I have\nbeen nearly in these blows once or twice and had the moisture in my face\nwith a sickening smell of shrimpy oil. Then the hump elongates and up\nrolls an immense blue-grey or blackish-grey round back with a faint ridge\nalong the top, on which presently appears a small hook-like dorsal fin,\nand then the whole sinks and disappears.\"[72]\n\nTo the biologist the pack is of absorbing interest. If you want to see\nlife, naked and unashamed, study the struggles of this ice-world, from\nthe diatom in the ice-floe to the big killer whale; each stage essential\nto the life of the stage above, and living on the stage below:\n\n THE PROTOPLASMIC CYCLE\n\n Big floes have little floes all around about 'em,\n And all the yellow diatoms[73] couldn't do without 'em.\n Forty million shrimplets feed upon the latter,\n And _they_ make the penguin and the seals and whales\n Much fatter.\n\n Along comes the Orca[74] and kills these down below,\n While up above the Afterguard[75] attack them on the floe:\n And if a sailor tumbles in and stoves the mushy pack in,\n He's crumpled up between the floes, and so they get\n _Their_ whack in.\n\n Then there's no doubt he soon becomes a Patent Fertilizer,\n Invigorating diatoms, although they're none the wiser,\n So the protoplasm passes on its never-ceasing round,\n Like a huge recurring decimal ... to which no\n End is found.[76]\n\nWe were early on the scene compared with previous expeditions, but I do\nnot suppose this alone can explain the extremely heavy ice conditions we\nmet. Possibly we were too far east. Our progress was very slow, and often\nwe were hung up for days at a time, motionless and immovable, the pack\nall close about us. Patience and always more patience! \"From the masthead\none can see a few patches of open water in different directions, but the\nmain outlook is the same scene of desolate hummocky pack.\"[77] And again:\n\"We have scarcely moved all day, but bergs which have become quite old\nfriends are on the move, and one has approached and almost circled\nus.\"[78]\n\nAnd then without warning and reason, as far as we could see, it would\nopen out again, and broad black leads and lakes would appear where there\nhad been only white snow and ice before, and we would make just a few\nmore miles, and sometimes we would raise steam only to suffer further\ndisappointment. Generally speaking, a dark black sky means open water,\nand this is known as an open-water sky; high lights in the sky mean ice,\nand this is known as ice-blink.\n\nThe changes were as sudden as they were unexpected. Thus early in the\nmorning of Christmas Eve, about a fortnight after we had entered the\npack, \"we have come into a region of where the open water exceeds the\nice; the former lies in great irregular pools three or four miles or more\nacross and connecting with many leads. The latter--and the fact is\npuzzling--still contain floes of enormous dimensions; we have just passed\none which is at least two miles in diameter....\" And then, \"Alas! alas!\nat 7 A.M. this morning we were brought up with a solid sheet of pack\nextending in all directions, save that from which we had come.\"[79]\n\nDelay was always irksome to Scott. As time went on this waiting in the\npack became almost intolerable. He began to think we might have to winter\nin the pack. And all the time our scanty supply of coal was being eaten\nup, until it was said that Campbell's party would never be taken to King\nEdward VII.'s Land. Scott found decisions to bank fires, to raise steam\nor to let fires out, most difficult at this time. \"If one lets fires out\nit means a dead loss of over two tons, when the boiler has to be heated\nagain. But this two tons would only cover a day under banked fires, so\nthat for anything longer than twenty-four hours it is economy to put the\nfires out. At each stoppage one is called upon to decide whether it is to\nbe for more or less than twenty-four hours.\"[80] Certainly England should\nhave an oil-driven ship for polar work.\n\nThe Terra Nova proved a wonderfully fine ice ship. Bowers' middle watch\nespecially became famous for the way in which he put the ship at the ice,\nand more than once Scott was alarmed by the great shock and collisions\nwhich were the result: I have seen him hurry up from his cabin to put a\nstop to it! But Bowers never hurt the ship, and she gallantly responded\nto the calls made upon her. Sometimes it was a matter of forcing two\nfloes apart, at others of charging and breaking one. Often we went again\nand again at some stubborn bit, backing and charging alternately, as well\nas the space behind us would allow. If sufficient momentum was gained the\nship rode upon the thicker floes, rising up upon it and pressing it down\nbeneath her, until suddenly, perhaps when its nearest edge was almost\namidships, the weight became too great and the ice split beneath us. At\nother times a tiny crack, no larger than a vein, would run shivering from\nour bows, which widened and widened until the whole ship passed through\nwithout difficulty. Always when below one heard the grumbling of the ice\nas it passed along the side. But it was slow work, and hard on the\nengines. There were days when we never moved at all.\n\n\"I can imagine few things more trying to the patience than the long\nwasted days of waiting. Exasperating as it is to see the tons of coal\nmelting away with the smallest mileage to our credit, one has at least\nthe satisfaction of active fighting and the hope of better fortune. To\nwait idly is the worst of conditions. You can imagine how often and how\nrestlessly we climbed to the crow's nest and studied the outlook. And\nstrangely enough there was generally some change to note. A water lead\nwould mysteriously open up a few miles away, or the place where it had\nbeen would as mysteriously close. Huge icebergs crept silently towards or\npast us, and continually we were observing these formidable objects with\nrange finder and compass to determine the relative movement, sometimes\nwith misgivings as to our ability to clear them. Under steam the change\nof conditions was even more marked. Sometimes we would enter a lead of\nopen water and proceed for a mile or two without hindrance; sometimes we\nwould come to big sheets of thin ice which broke easily as our iron-shod\nprow struck them, and sometimes even a thin sheet would resist all our\nattempts to break it; sometimes we would push big floes with comparative\nease and sometimes a small floe would bar our passage with such obstinacy\nthat one would almost believe it possessed of an evil spirit; sometimes\nwe passed through acres of sludgy sodden ice which hissed as it swept\nalong the side, and sometimes the hissing ceased seemingly without rhyme\nor reason, and we found our screw churning the sea without any effect.\n\n\"Thus the steaming days passed away in an ever-changing environment and\nare remembered as an unceasing struggle.\n\n\"The ship behaved splendidly--no other ship, not even the Discovery,\nwould have come through so well. Certainly the Nimrod would never have\nreached the south water had she been caught in such pack. As a result I\nhave grown strangely attached to the Terra Nova. As she bumped the floes\nwith mighty shocks, crushing and grinding a way through some, twisting\nand turning to avoid others, she seemed like a living thing fighting a\ngreat fight. If only she had more economical engines she would be\nsuitable in all respects.\n\n[Illustration: TERRA NOVA]\n\n\"Once or twice we got among floes which stood 7 or 8 feet above water,\nwith hummocks and pinnacles as high as 25 feet. The ship could have stood\nno chance had such floes pressed against her, and at first we were a\nlittle alarmed in such situations. But familiarity breeds contempt;\nthere never was any pressure in the heavy ice, and I'm inclined to think\nthere never would be.\n\n\"The weather changed frequently during our journey through the pack. The\nwind blew strong from the west and from the east; the sky was often\ndarkly overcast; we had snowstorms, flaky snow, and even light rain. In\nall such circumstances we were better placed in the pack than outside of\nit. The foulest weather could do us little harm. During quite a large\npercentage of days, however, we had bright sunshine, which, even with the\ntemperature well below freezing, made everything look bright and\ncheerful. The sun also brought us wonderful cloud effects, marvellously\ndelicate tints of sky, cloud and ice, such effects as one might travel\nfar to see. In spite of our impatience we would not willingly have missed\nmany of the beautiful scenes which our sojourn in the pack afforded us.\nPonting and Wilson have been busy catching these effects, but no art can\nreproduce such colours as the deep blue of the icebergs.\"[81]\n\nAs a rule the officer of the watch conned from the crow's nest, shouting\nhis orders to the steersman direct, and to the engine-room through the\nmidshipman of the watch, who stood upon the bridge. It is thrilling work\nto the officer in charge, who not only has to face the immediate problem\nof what floes he dare and what he dare not charge, but also to puzzle out\nthe best course for the future,--but I expect he soon gets sick of it.\n\nAbout this time Bowers made a fancy sketch of the Terra Nova hitting an\nenormous piece of ice. The masts are all whipped forward, and from the\ncrow's nest is shot first the officer of the watch, followed by cigarette\nends and empty cocoa mugs, and lastly the hay with which the floor was\ncovered. Upon the forecastle stands Farmer Hayseed (Oates) chewing a\nstraw with the greatest composure, and waiting until the hay shall fall\nat his feet, at which time he will feed it to his ponies. This crow's\nnest, which was a barrel lashed to the top of the mainmast, to which\nentrance was gained by a hinged trap-door, shielded the occupant from\nmost of the wind. I am not sure that the steersman did not have the most\nuninviting job, but hot cocoa is a most comforting drink and there was\nalways plenty to be had.\n\nRennick was busy sounding. The depths varied from 1804 to at least 3890\nfathoms, and the bottom generally showed volcanic deposits. Our line of\nsoundings showed the transition from the ocean depths to the continental\nshelf. A series of temperatures was gained by Nelson by means of\nreversible thermometers down to 3891 metres.\n\nThe winch upon which the sounding line was wound was worked by hand on\nthis cruise. It was worked mechanically afterwards, and of course this\nought always to be done if possible. Just now it was a wearisome\nbusiness, especially when we lowered a water-sample bottle one day to\n1800 metres, spent hours in winding it up and found it still open when it\narrived at the surface! Water samples were also obtained at the various\ndepths. Lillie and Nelson were both busy tow-netting for plankton with\nfull-speed, Apstein, Nansen, 24-and 180-mesh nets.\n\nI don't think many at home had a more pleasant Christmas Day than we. It\nwas beautifully calm with the pack all round. At 10 we had church with\nlots of Christmas hymns, and then decorated the ward-room with all our\nsledging flags. These flags are carried by officers on Arctic\nexpeditions, and are formed of the St. George's Cross with a continuation\nending in a swallow-tail in the heraldic colours to which the individual\nis entitled, and upon this is embroidered his crest. The men forrard had\ntheir Christmas dinner of fresh mutton at mid-day; there was plenty of\npenguin for them, but curiously enough they did not think it good enough\nfor a Christmas dinner. The ward-room ate penguin in the evening, and\nafter the toast of 'absent friends' we began to sing, and twice round the\ntable everybody had to contribute a song. Ponting's banjo songs were a\ngreat success, also Oates's 'The Vly on the tu-urmuts.' Meares sang \"a\nlittle song about our Expedition, and many of the members that Southward\nwould go,\" of his own composition. The general result was that the\nwatches were all over the place that night. At 4 A.M. Day whispered in\nmy ear that there was nothing to do, and Pennell promised to call me if\nthere was--so I remembered no more until past six.\n\nAnd Crean's rabbit gave birth to seventeen little ones, and it was said\nthat Crean had already given away twenty-two.\n\nWe had stopped and banked fires against an immense composite floe on the\nevening of Christmas Eve. How we watched the little changes in the ice\nand the wind, and scanned the horizon for those black patches which meant\nopen water ahead. But always there was that same white sky to the south\nof us. And then one day there came the shadow of movement on the sea, the\nfaintest crush on the brash ice, the whisper of great disturbances afar\noff. It settled again: our hopes were dashed to the ground. Then came the\nwind. It was so thick that we could not see far; but even in our\nrestricted field changes were in progress.\n\n\"We commence to move between two floes, make 200 or 300 yards, and are\nthen brought up bows on to a large lump. This may mean a wait of anything\nfrom ten minutes to half-an-hour, whilst the ship swings round, falls\naway, and drifts to leeward. When clear she forges ahead again and the\noperation is repeated. Occasionally when she can get a little way on she\ncracks the obstacle and slowly passes through it. There is a distinct\nswell--very long, very low. I counted the period as about nine seconds.\nEvery one says the ice is breaking up.\"[82]\n\nOn December 28 the gale abated. The sky cleared, and showed signs of open\nwater ahead. It was cold in the wind but the sun was wonderful, and we\nlay out on deck and basked in its warmth, a cheerful, careless crowd.\nAfter breakfast there was a consultation between Scott and Wilson in the\ncrow's nest. It was decided to raise steam.\n\nMeanwhile we sounded, and found a volcanic muddy bottom at 2035 fathoms.\nThe last sounding showed 1400 fathoms; we had passed over a bank.\n\nSteam came at 8 P.M. and we began to push forward. At first it was hard\ngoing, but slowly we elbowed our way until the spaces of open water\nbecame more frequent. Soon we found one or two large pools, several miles\nin extent; then the floes became smaller. Later we could see no really\nbig floes at all; \"the sheets of thin ice are broken into comparatively\nregular figures, none more than thirty yards across,\" and \"we are\nsteaming amongst floes of small area evidently broken by swell, and with\nedges abraded by contact.\"[83]\n\nWe could not be far from the southern edge of the pack. Twenty-four hours\nafter raising steam we were still making good progress, checking\nsometimes to carve our way through some obstacle. At last we were getting\na return for the precious coal expended. The sky was overcast, the\noutlook from the masthead flat and dreary, but hour by hour it became\nmore obvious that we neared the threshold of the open sea. At 1 A.M. on\nFriday, December 30 (lat. about 71½° S., noon observation 72° 17´ S.,\n177° 9´ E.) Bowers steered through the last ice stream. Behind was some\n400 miles of ice. Cape Crozier was 334 miles (geog.) ahead.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n [40] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 6.\n\n [41] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 7.\n\n [42] Ibid. p. 9.\n\n [43] Ibid. p. 8.\n\n [44] Wilson in the _Discovery Natural History Reports._\n\n [45] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. pp. 11-12.\n\n [46] Wilson's Journal.\n\n [47] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. pp. 14-15.\n\n [48] Raper, _Practice of Navigation_, article 547.\n\n [49] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 13.\n\n [50] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. pp. 21-22.\n\n [51] Ibid. pp. 24-25.\n\n [52] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 2.\n\n [53] My own diary.\n\n [54] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 25.\n\n [55] Ibid. p. 60.\n\n [56] Wilson.\n\n [57] Wilson, _Discovery Natural History Report_, vol. ii. part ii.\n p. 38.\n\n [58] Wilson's Journal.\n\n [59] Levick, _Antarctic Penguins_, p. 83.\n\n [60] Levick, _Antarctic Penguins_, p. 85.\n\n [61] Wilson in the _Discovery Natural History Report, Zoology_,\n vol. ii. part i. p. 44.\n\n [62] _Discovery Natural History Report, Zoology_, vol. ii. part i.\n Wilson, pp. 32, 33.\n\n [63] Ibid. p. 33.\n\n [64] _Antarctic Manual: Seals_, by Barrett-Hamilton, p. 216.\n\n [65] Ibid. p. 217.\n\n [66] _Discovery Natural History Report, Zoology_, vol. ii. part i.\n by E. A. Wilson, p. 36.\n\n [67] _Discovery Natural History Report, Zoology_, vol. ii. part i.\n by E. A. Wilson.\n\n [68] _Terra Nova Natural History Report, Cetacea_, vol. i. No. 3,\n p. 111, by Lillie.\n\n [69] _Terra Nova Natural History Report, Zoology_, vol. i. No. 3,\n _Cetacea_, by D. G. Lillie, p. 114.\n\n [70] _Discovery Natural History Report, Zoology_, vol. ii. part i.\n pp. 3-4, by E. A. Wilson.\n\n [71] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 22.\n\n [72] Wilson's Journal, _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 613.\n\n [73] Minute plants.\n\n [74] Killer whale.\n\n [75] Officers' mess on the Terra Nova.\n\n [76] Griffith Taylor in _South Polar Times_.\n\n [77] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 35.\n\n [78] Ibid. p. 39.\n\n [79] Ibid. pp. 54, 55.\n\n [80] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 56.\n\n [81] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. pp. 73-75.\n\n [82] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 62.\n\n [83] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. pp. 68, 69.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nLAND\n\n Beyond this flood a frozen continent\n Lies dark and wilde, beat with perpetual storms\n Of whirlwind and dire hail, which on firm land\n Thaws not, but gathers heap, and ruin seems\n Of ancient pile; all else deep snow and ice....\n MILTON, _Paradise Lost_, II.\n\n\n\"They say it's going to blow like hell. Go and look at the glass.\" Thus\nTitus Oates quietly to me a few hours before we left the pack.\n\nI went and looked at the barograph and it made me feel sea-sick. Within a\nfew hours I was sick, _very_ sick; but we newcomers to the Antarctic had\nyet to learn that we knew nothing about its barometer. Nothing very\nterrible happened after all. When I got up to the bridge for the morning\nwatch we were in open water and it was blowing fresh. It freshened all\nday, and by the evening it was blowing a southerly with a short choppy\nNorth Sea swell, and very warm. By 4 A.M. the next morning there was a\nbig sea running and the dogs and ponies were having a bad time. Rennick\nhad the morning watch these days, and I was his humble midshipman.\n\nAt 5.45 we sighted what we thought was a berg on the port bow. About\nthree minutes later Rennick said, \"There's a bit of pack,\" and I went\nbelow and reported to Evans. It was very thick with driving snow and also\nfoggy, and before Evans got up to the bridge we were quite near the pack,\nand amongst bits which had floated from it, one of which must have been\nour berg. We took in the headsails as quickly as possible, these being\nthe only sails set, and nosed along dead slow to leeward under steam\nalone. Gradually we could see either pack or the blink of it all along\nour port and starboard beam, while gradually we felt our way down a big\npatch of open water.\n\nThere was quite a meeting on the bridge, and it was decided to get well\nin, and lie in open water under lee of the pack till the gale blew itself\nout. \"Under ordinary circumstances the safe course would have been to go\nabout and stand to the east. But in our case we must risk trouble to get\nsmoother water for the ponies. We passed a stream of ice over which the\nsea was breaking heavily, and one realized the danger of being amongst\nloose floes in such a sea. But soon we came to a compacter body of floes,\nand running behind this we were agreeably surprised to find comparatively\nsmooth water. We ran on for a bit, then stopped and lay to.\"[84]\n\nAll that day we lay behind that pack, steaming slowly to leeward every\nnow and then, as the ice drifted down upon us. Towards night it began to\nclear. It was New Year's Eve.\n\nI turned in, thinking to wake in 1911. But I had not been long asleep\nwhen I found Atkinson at my side. \"Have you seen the land?\" he said.\n\"Wrap your blankets round you, and go and see.\" And when I got up on deck\nI could see nothing for a while. Then he said: \"All the high lights are\nsnow lit up by the sun.\" And there they were: the most glorious peaks\nappearing, as it were like satin, above the clouds, the only white in a\ndark horizon. The first glimpse of Antarctic land, Sabine and the great\nmountains of the Admiralty Range. They were 110 miles away. But\n\n Icy mountains high on mountains pil'd\n Seem to the shivering sailor from afar\n Shapeless and white, an atmosphere of cloud;[85]\n\nand, truth to tell, I went back to my warm bunk. At midnight a rowdy mob,\nringing the New Year in with the dinner-bell, burst into our Nursery. I\nexpected to be hauled out, but got off with a dig in the ribs from\nBirdie Bowers.\n\nIn brilliant sunshine we coasted down Victoria Land. \"To-night it is\nabsolutely calm, with glorious bright sunshine. Several people were\nsunning themselves at 11 o'clock! Sitting on deck and reading.\"[86]\n\nAt 8.30 on Monday night, January 2, we sighted Erebus, 115 miles away.\nThe next morning most of us were on the yards furling sail. We were\nheading for Cape Crozier, the northern face of Ross Island was open to\nour fascinated gaze, and away to the east stretched the Barrier face\nuntil it disappeared below the horizon. Adélie penguins and Killer whales\nwere abundant in the water through which we steamed.\n\nI have seen Fuji, the most dainty and graceful of all mountains; and also\nKinchinjunga: only Michael Angelo among men could have conceived such\ngrandeur. But give me Erebus for my friend. Whoever made Erebus knew all\nthe charm of horizontal lines, and the lines of Erebus are for the most\npart nearer the horizontal than the vertical. And so he is the most\nrestful mountain in the world, and I was glad when I knew that our hut\nwould lie at his feet. And always there floated from his crater the lazy\nbanner of his cloud of steam.\n\nNow we had reached the Barrier face some five miles east of the point at\nwhich it joins the basalt cliffs of Cape Crozier. We could see the great\npressure waves which had proved such an obstacle to travellers from the\nDiscovery to the Emperor penguin rookery. The Knoll was clear, but the\nsummit of Mount Terror was in the clouds. As for the Barrier we seemed to\nhave known it all our lives, it was so exactly like what we had imagined\nit to be, and seen in the pictures and photographs.\n\nScott had a whaler launched, and we pulled in under the cliffs. There was\na considerable swell.\n\n\"We were to examine the possibilities of landing, but the swell was so\nheavy in its break among the floating blocks of ice along the actual\nbeach and ice foot that a landing was out of the question. We should\nhave broken up the boat and have all been in the water together. But I\nassure you it was tantalizing to me, for there about six feet above us on\na small dirty piece of the old bay ice about ten feet square one living\nEmperor penguin chick was standing disconsolately stranded, and close by\nstood one faithful old Emperor parent asleep. This young Emperor was\nstill in the down, a most interesting fact in the bird's life history at\nwhich we had rightly guessed, but which no one had actually observed\nbefore. It was in a stage never yet seen or collected, for the wings were\nalready quite clean of down and feathered as in the adult, also a line\ndown the breast was shed of down and part of the head. This bird would\nhave been a treasure to me, but we could not risk life for it, so it had\nto remain where it was. It was a curious fact that with as much clean ice\nto live on as they could have wished for, these destitute derelicts of a\nflourishing colony, now gone north to sea on floating bay ice, should\nhave preferred to remain standing on the only piece of bay ice left, a\npiece about ten feet square and now pressed up six feet above water\nlevel, evidently wondering why it was so long in starting north with the\ngeneral exodus which must have taken place just a month ago. The whole\nincident was most interesting and full of suggestion as to the slow\nworking of the brain of these queer people. Another point was most weird\nto see, that on the _under_ side of this very dirty piece of sea-ice,\nwhich was about two feet thick and which hung over the water as a sort of\ncave, we could see the legs and lower halves of dead Emperor chicks\nhanging through, and even in one place a dead adult. I hope to make a\npicture of the whole quaint incident, for it was a corner crammed full of\nImperial history in the light of what we already knew, and it would\notherwise have been about as unintelligible as any group of animate or\ninanimate nature could possibly have been. As it is, it throws more light\non the life history of this strangely primitive bird....\n\n\"We were joking in the boat as we rowed under these cliffs and saying it\nwould be a short-lived amusement to see the overhanging cliff part\ncompany and fall on us. So we were glad to find that we were rowing back\nto the ship and already 200 or 300 yards away from the place and in open\nwater when there was a noise like crackling thunder and a huge plunge\ninto the sea and a smother of rock dust like the smoke of an explosion,\nand we realized that the very thing had happened which we had just been\ntalking about. Altogether it was a very exciting row, for before we got\non board we had the pleasure of seeing the ship shoved in so close to\nthese cliffs by a belt of heavy pack ice that to us it appeared a toss-up\nwhether she got out again or got forced in against the rocks. She had no\ntime or room to turn, and got clear by backing out through the belt of\npack stern first, getting heavy bumps under the counter and on the rudder\nas she did so, for the ice was heavy and the swell considerable.\"[87]\n\nWestward of Cape Crozier the sides of Mount Terror slope down to the sea,\nforming a possible landing-place in calm weather. Here there is a large\nAdélie penguin rookery in summer, and it was here that the Discovery left\na record of her movements tied to a post to guide the relieving ship the\nfollowing year. It was the return of a sledge party which tried to reach\nthis record from the Barrier that led to Vince's terrible death.[88] As\nwe coasted along we could see this post quite plainly, looking as new as\nthe day it was erected, and we know now that there is communication with\nthe Barrier behind, while this rookery itself is free from the blizzards\nwhich sweep out to sea by Cape Crozier. It was therefore an excellent\nplace to winter and it was a considerable disappointment to find that it\nwas impossible to land.\n\nThis was the first sight we had of a rookery of the little Adélie\npenguin. Hundreds of thousands of birds dotted the shore, and there were\nmany thousands in the sea round the ship. As we came to know these\nrookeries better we came to look upon these quaint creatures more as\nfamiliar friends than as casual acquaintances. Whatever a penguin does\nhas individuality, and he lays bare his whole life for all to see. He\ncannot fly away. And because he is quaint in all that he does, but still\nmore because he is fighting against bigger odds than any other bird, and\nfighting always with the most gallant pluck, he comes to be considered as\nsomething apart from the ordinary bird--sometimes solemn, sometimes\nhumorous, enterprising, chivalrous, cheeky--and always (unless you are\ndriving a dog-team) a welcome and, in some ways, an almost human friend.\n\nThe alternative landing-place to Cape Crozier was somewhere in McMurdo\nSound, the essential thing being that we should have access to and from\nthe Barrier, such communication having to be by sea-ice, since the land\nis for the most part impassable. As we steamed from Cape Crozier to Cape\nBird, the N.W. extremity of Ross Island, we carried out a detailed\nrunning survey.\n\nWhen we neared Cape Bird and Beaufort Island we could see that there was\nmuch pack in the mouth of the Strait. By keeping close in to the land we\navoided the worst of the trouble, and \"as we rounded Cape Bird we came in\nsight of the old well-remembered landmarks--Mount Discovery and the\nWestern Mountains--seen dimly through a hazy atmosphere. It was good to\nsee them again, and perhaps after all we are better this side of the\nIsland. It gives one a homely feeling to see such a familiar scene.\"[89]\n\nRight round from Cape Crozier to Cape Royds the coast is cold and\nforbidding, and for the most part heavily crevassed. West of Cape Bird\nare some small penguin rookeries, and high up on the ice slopes could be\nseen some grey granite boulders. These are erratics, brought by ice from\nthe Western Mountains, and are evidence of a warmer past when the Barrier\nrose some two thousand feet higher than it does now, and stretched many\nhundreds of miles farther out to sea. But now the Antarctic is becoming\ncolder, the deposition of snow is therefore farther north, and the\nformation of ice correspondingly less.\n\n[Illustration: SOUNDING--E. A. Wilson, del.]\n\n[Illustration: KRISRAVITZA]\n\nMany watched all night, as this new world unfolded itself, cape by cape\nand mountain by mountain. We pushed through some heavy floes and \"at 6\nA.M. (on January 4) we came through the last of the Strait pack some\nthree miles north of Cape Royds. We steered for the Cape, fully expecting\nto find the edge of the pack-ice ranging westward from it. To our\nastonishment we ran on past the Cape with clear water or thin sludge ice\non all sides of us. Past Cape Royds, past Cape Barne, past the glacier on\nits south side, and finally round and past Inaccessible Island, a good\ntwo miles south of Cape Royds. The Cape itself was cut off from the\nsouth. We could have gone farther, but the last sludge ice seemed to be\nincreasing in thickness, and there was no wintering spot to aim for but\nCape Armitage.[90] I have never seen the ice of the Sound in such a\ncondition or the land so free from snow. Taking these facts in\nconjunction with the exceptional warmth of the air, I came to the\nconclusion that it had been an exceptionally warm summer. At this point\nit was evident that we had a considerable choice of wintering spots. We\ncould have gone to either of the small islands, to the mainland, the\nGlacier Tongue, or pretty well anywhere except Hut Point. My main wish\nwas to choose a place that would not be easily cut off from the Barrier,\nand my eye fell on a cape which we used to call the Skuary, a little\nbehind us. It was separated from the old Discovery quarters by two deep\nbays on either side of the Glacier Tongue, and I thought that these bays\nwould remain frozen until late in the season, and that when they froze\nover again the ice would soon become firm. I called a council and put\nthese propositions. To push on to the Glacier Tongue and winter there; to\npush west to the 'tombstone' ice and to make our way to an inviting spot\nto the northward of the cape we used to call 'the Skuary.' I favoured the\nlatter course, and on discussion we found it obviously the best, so we\nturned back close around Inaccessible Island and steered for the fast ice\noff the Cape at full speed. After piercing a small fringe of thin ice at\nthe edge of the fast floe the ship's stem struck heavily on hard bay ice\nabout a mile and a half from the shore. Here was a road to the Cape and a\nsolid wharf on which to land our stores. We made fast with\nice-anchors.\"[91]\n\nScott, Wilson and Evans walked away over the sea-ice, but were soon back.\nThey reported an excellent site for a hut on a shelving beach on the\nnorthern side of the Cape before us, which was henceforward called Cape\nEvans, after our second in command. Landing was to begin forthwith.\n\nFirst came the two big motor sledges which took up so much of our deck\nspace. In spite of the hundreds of tons of sea-water which had washed\nover and about them they came out of their big crates looking \"as fresh\nand clean as if they had been packed on the previous day.\"[92] They were\nrunning that same afternoon.\n\nWe had a horse-box for the ponies, which came next, but it wanted all\nOates' skill and persuasion to get them into it. All seventeen of them\nwere soon on the floe, rolling and kicking with joy, and thence they were\nled across to the beach where they were carefully picketed to a rope run\nover a snow slope where they could not eat sand. Shackleton lost four out\nof eight ponies within a month of his arrival. His ponies were picketed\non rubbly ground at Cape Royds, and ate the sand for the salt flavour it\npossessed. The fourth pony died from eating shavings in which chemicals\nhad been packed. This does not mean that they were hungry, merely that\nthese Manchurian ponies eat the first thing that comes in their way,\nwhether it be a bit of sugar or a bit of Erebus.\n\nMeanwhile the dog-teams were running light loads between the ship and the\nshore. \"The great trouble with them has been due to the fatuous conduct\nof the penguins. Groups of these have been constantly leaping on to our\nfloe. From the moment of landing on their feet their whole attitude\nexpressed devouring curiosity and a pig-headed disregard for their own\nsafety. They waddle forward, poking their heads to and fro in their\nusually absurd way, in spite of a string of howling dogs straining to get\nat them. 'Hulloa!' they seem to say, 'here's a game--what do all you\nridiculous things want?' And they come a few steps nearer. The dogs make\na rush as far as their harness or leashes allow. The penguins are not\ndaunted in the least, but their ruffs go up and they squawk with\nsemblance of anger, for all the world as though they were rebutting a\nrude stranger--their attitude might be imagined to convey, 'Oh, that's\nthe sort of animal you are; well, you've come to the wrong place--we\naren't going to be bluffed and bounced by you,' and then the final fatal\nsteps forward are taken and they come within reach. There is a spring, a\nsquawk, a horrid red patch on the snow, and the incident is closed.\"[93]\n\nEverything had to be sledged nearly a mile and a half across the sea-ice,\nbut at midnight, after seventeen hours' continuous work, the position was\nmost satisfactory. The large amount of timber which went to make the hut\nwas mostly landed. The ponies and dogs were sleeping in the sun on shore.\nA large green tent housed the hut builders, and the site for the hut was\nlevelled.\n\n\"Such weather in such a place comes nearer to satisfying my ideal of\nperfection than any condition I have ever experienced. The warm glow of\nthe sun with the keen invigorating cold of the air forms a combination\nwhich is inexpressibly health-giving and satisfying to me, whilst the\ngolden light on this wonderful scene of mountain and ice satisfies every\nclaim of scenic magnificence. No words of mine can convey the\nimpressiveness of the wonderful panorama displayed to our eyes.... It's\nsplendid to see at last the effect of all the months of preparation and\norganisation. There is much snoring about me as I write (2 A.M.) from men\ntired after a hard day's work and preparing for such another to-morrow. I\nalso must sleep, for I have had none for 48 hours--but it should be to\ndream happily.\"[94]\n\nGetting to bed about midnight and turning out at 5 A.M. we kept it up day\nafter day. Petrol, paraffin, pony food, dog food, sledges and sledging\ngear, hut furniture, provisions of all kinds both for life at the hut and\nfor sledging, coal, scientific instruments and gear, carbide, medical\nstores, clothing--I do not know how many times we sledged over that\nsea-ice, but I do know that we were landed as regards all essentials in\nsix days. \"Nothing like it has been done before; nothing so expeditious\nand complete.\"[95] ... and \"Words cannot express the splendid way in\nwhich every one works.\"[96]\n\nThe two motors, the two dog-teams, man-hauling parties, and, as they were\npassed for work by Oates, the ponies; all took part in this transport. As\nusual Bowers knew just where everything was, and where it was to go, and\nhe was most ably seconded on the ship by Rennick and Bruce. Both\nman-hauling parties and pony-leaders commonly did ten journeys a day, a\ndistance of over thirty miles. The ponies themselves did one to three or\nfour journeys as they were considered fit.\n\nGenerally speaking the transport seemed satisfactory, but it soon became\nclear that sea-ice was very hard on the motor sledge runners. \"The motor\nsledges are working well, but not very well; the small difficulties will\nbe got over, but I rather fear they will never draw the loads we expect\nof them. Still they promise to be a help, and they are a lively and\nattractive feature of our present scene as they drone along over the\nfloe. At a little distance, without silencers, they sound exactly like\nthreshing machines.\"[97]\n\nThe ponies were the real problem. It was to be expected that they would\nbe helpless and exhausted after their long and trying voyage. Not a bit\nof it! They were soon rolling about, biting one another, kicking one\nanother, and any one else, with the best will in the world. After two\ndays' rest on shore, twelve of them were thought fit to do one journey,\non which they pulled loads varying from 700 to 1000 lbs. with ease on the\nhard sea-ice surface. But it was soon clear that these ponies were an\nuneven lot. There were the steady workers like Punch and Nobby; there\nwere one or two definitely weak ponies like Blossom, Blücher and Jehu;\nand there were one or two strong but rather impossible beasts. One of\nthese was soon known as Weary Willie. His outward appearance belied him,\nfor he looked like a pony. A brief acquaintance soon convinced me that\nhe was without doubt a cross between a pig and a mule. He was obviously a\nstrong beast and, since he always went as slowly as possible and stopped\nas often as possible it was most difficult to form any opinion as to what\nload he was really able to draw. Consequently I am afraid there is little\ndoubt that he was generally overloaded until that grim day on the Barrier\nwhen he was set upon by a dog-team. It was his final collapse at the end\nof the Depôt journey which caused Scott to stay behind when we went out\non the sea-ice. But of that I shall speak again.\n\nTwice only have I ever seen Weary Willie trot. We were leading the ponies\nnow as always with halters and without bits. Consequently our control was\nlimited, especially on ice, but doubtless the ponies' comfort was\nincreased, especially in cold weather when a metal bit would have been\ndifficult if not impossible. On this occasion he and I had just arrived\nat the ship after a trudge in which I seemed to be pulling both Weary and\nthe sledge. Just then a motor back-fired, and we started back across that\nfloe at a pace which surprised Weary even more than myself, for he fell\nover the sledge, himself and me, and for days I felt like a big black\nbruise. The second occasion on which he got a move on was during the\nDepôt journey when Gran on ski tried to lead him.\n\nChristopher and Hackenschmidt were impossible ponies. Christopher, as we\nshall see, died on the Barrier a year after this, fighting almost to the\nlast. Hackenschmidt, so called \"from his vicious habit of using both fore\nand hind legs in attacking those who came near him,\"[98] led an even more\nlurid life but had a more peaceful end. Whether Oates could have tamed\nhim I do not know: he would have done it if it were possible, for his\nmanagement of horses was wonderful. But in any case Hackenschmidt\nsickened at the hut while we were absent on the Depôt journey, for no\ncause which could be ascertained, gradually became too weak to stand, and\nwas finally put out of his misery.\n\nThere was a breathless minute when Hackenschmidt, with a sledge attached\nto him, went galloping over the hills and boulders. Below him, all\nunconscious of his impending fate, was Ponting, adjusting a large camera\nwith his usual accuracy. Both survived. There were runaways innumerable,\nand all kinds of falls. But these ponies could tumble about unharmed in a\nway which would cause an English horse to lie up for a week. \"There is no\ndoubt that the bumping of the sledges close at the heels of the animals\nis the root of the evil.\"[99]\n\nThere were two adventures during this first week of landing stores which\nmight well have had a more disastrous conclusion. The first of these was\nthe adventure of Ponting and the Killer whales.\n\n\"I was a little late on the scene this morning, and thereby witnessed a\nmost extraordinary scene. Some six or seven killer whales, old and young,\nwere skirting the fast floe edge ahead of the ship; they seemed excited\nand dived rapidly, almost touching the floe. As we watched, they suddenly\nappeared astern, raising their snouts out of water. I had heard weird\nstories of these beasts, but had never associated serious danger with\nthem. Close to the water's edge lay the wire stern rope of the ship, and\nour two Esquimaux dogs were tethered to this. I did not think of\nconnecting the movement of the whales with this fact, and seeing them so\nclose I shouted to Ponting, who was standing abreast of the ship. He\nseized his camera and ran towards the floe edge to get a close picture of\nthe beasts, which had momentarily disappeared. The next moment the whole\nfloe under him and the dogs heaved up and split into fragments. One could\nhear the booming noise as the whales rose under the ice and struck it\nwith their backs. Whale after whale rose under the ice, setting it\nrocking fiercely; luckily Ponting kept his feet and was able to fly to\nsecurity. By an extraordinary chance also, the splits had been made\naround and between the dogs, so that neither of them fell into the water.\nThen it was clear that the whales shared our astonishment, for one after\nanother their huge hideous heads shot vertically into the air through\nthe cracks which they had made. As they reared them to a height of six\nor eight feet it was possible to see their tawny head markings, their\nsmall glistening eyes, and their terrible array of teeth--by far the\nlargest and most terrifying in the world. There cannot be a doubt that\nthey looked up to see what had happened to Ponting and the dogs.\n\n\"The latter were horribly frightened and strained to their chains,\nwhining; the head of one killer must certainly have been within five feet\nof one of the dogs.\n\n\"After this, whether they thought the game insignificant, or whether they\nmissed Ponting is uncertain, but the terrifying creatures passed on to\nother hunting grounds, and we were able to rescue the dogs, and what was\neven more important, our petrol--five or six tons of which was waiting on\na piece of ice which was not split away from the main mass.\n\n\"Of course, we have known well that killer whales continually skirt the\nedge of the floes and that they would undoubtedly snap up any one who was\nunfortunate enough to fall into the water; but the facts that they could\ndisplay such deliberate cunning, that they were able to break ice of such\nthickness (at least 2½ feet), and that they could act in unison, were a\nrevelation to us. It is clear that they are endowed with singular\nintelligence, and in future we shall treat that intelligence with every\nrespect.\"[100]\n\nWe were to be hunted by these Killer whales again.\n\nThe second adventure was the loss of the third motor sledge. It was\nSunday morning, January 8, and Scott had given orders that this motor was\nto be hoisted out of the ship. \"This was done first thing and the motor\nplaced on firm ice. Later Campbell told me one of the men had dropped a\nleg through crossing a sludgy patch some 200 yards from the ship. I\ndidn't consider it very serious, as I imagined the man had only gone\nthrough the surface crust. About 7 A.M. I started for the shore with a\nsingle man load, leaving Campbell looking about for the best crossing for\nthe motor.\"[101]\n\nI find a note in my own diary as to what happened after that: \"Last night\nthe ice was getting very soft in places, and I was a little doubtful\nabout leading ponies over a spot on the route to the hut which is about a\nquarter of a mile from the ship. It has been thawing very fast the last\nfew days, and has been very hot as Antarctic weather goes. This morning\nwas the same, and Bailey went in up to his neck.\n\n\"Some half-hour after the motor was put on to the floe, we were told to\ntow it on to firm ice as that near the ship was breaking up. All hands\nstarted on a long tow line. We got on to the rotten piece, and somebody\nbehind shouted 'You must run.' From that moment everything happened very\nquickly. Williamson fell right in through the ice; immediately afterwards\nwe were all brought up with a jerk. Then the line began to pull us\nbackwards; the stern of the motor had sunk through the ice, and the whole\ncar began to sink. It slowly went right through and disappeared and then\nthe tow line followed it. Everything possible was done to hang on to the\nrope, but in the end we had to let it go, each man keeping his hold until\nhe was dragged to the lip of the hole. Then we made for the fast ice,\nleaving the rotten bit between us and the ship.\n\n\"Pennell and Priestley sounded their way back to the ship, and Day asked\nPriestley to bring his goggles when he returned. They came back with a\nlife-line, Pennell leading. Suddenly the ice gave way under Priestley,\nwho disappeared entirely and came up, so we learned afterwards, under the\nice, there being a big current. In a moment Pennell was lying flat upon\nthe floe on his chest, got his hand under Priestley's arm, and so pulled\nhim out. All Priestley said was, 'Day, here are your goggles.' We all got\nback to the ship, but communication between the ship and the shore was\ninterrupted for the rest of the day, when a solid road was found right up\nto the ship in another place.\"[102]\n\nMeanwhile the hut was rising very quickly, and Davies, who was Chippy\nChap, the carpenter, deserves much credit. He was a leading shipwright\nin the navy, always willing and bright, and with a very thorough\nknowledge of his job. I have seen him called up hour after hour, day and\nnight, on the ship, when the pumps were choked by the coal balls which\nformed in the bilges, and he always arrived with a smile on his face.\nAltogether he was one of our most useful men. In this job of hut-building\nhe was helped by two of our seamen, Keohane and Abbott, and others.\nLatterly I believe there were more people working than there were\nhammers!\n\nA plan of this hut is given here. It was 50 feet long, by 25 feet wide,\nand 9 feet to the eaves. The insulation, which was very satisfactory, was\nseaweed, sewn up in the form of a quilt.\n\n\"The sides have double [match-] boarding inside and outside the frames,\nwith a layer of our excellent quilted seaweed insulation between each\npair of boardings. The roof has a single match-boarding inside, but on\nthe outside is a match-boarding, then a layer of 2-ply ruberoid, then a\nlayer of quilted seaweed, then a second match-boarding, and finally a\ncover of 3-ply ruberoid.\"[103]\n\nThe floor consisted of a wooden boarding next the frame, then a quilt of\nseaweed, then a layer of felt upon which was a second boarding and\nfinally linoleum.\n\nWe thought we should be warm, and we were. In fact, during the winter,\nwith twenty-five men living there, and the cooking range going, and\nperhaps also the stove at the other end, the hut not infrequently became\nfuggy, big though it was.\n\nThe entrance was through a door in a porch before you got to the main\ndoor. In the porch were the generators of the acetylene gas, which was\nfitted throughout by Day, who was also responsible for the fittings of\nthe ventilator, cooking range, and stove, the chimney pipes from these\nrunning along through the middle of the hut before entering a common\nvent. Little heat was lost. The pipes were fitted with dampers, and air\ninlets which could be opened or shut at will to control the ventilation.\nBesides a big ventilator in the top of the hut there was an adjustable\nair inlet also at the base of the chamber which formed the junction of\nthe two chimneys. The purpose of this was also ventilation, but it was\nnot successful.\n\nThe bulkhead which separated the men's quarters, or mess deck, from the\nrest of the hut, was formed of such cases as contained goods in glass,\nincluding wine, which would have frozen and broken outside. The bulkhead\ndid not go as high as the top of the hut. When the contents of a case\nwere wanted, a side of the box was taken out, and the empty case then\nformed a shelf.\n\nWe started to live in the hut on January 18, beautifully warm, the\ngramophone going, and everybody happy. But for a long time before this\nmost of the landing party had been living in tents on shore. It was very\ncomfortable, far more so than might be supposed, judging only by the\npopular idea of a polar life. We were now almost landed, there were just\na few things more to come over from the ship. \"It was blowing a mild\nblizzard from the south, and I took a sledge over to the ship, which was\nquite blotted out in blinding snow at times. It was as hard to get an\nempty sledge over, as generally it is to drag a full one. Tea on the\nship, which was very full of welcome, but also very full of the\nsuperiority of their own comforts over those of the land. Their own\ncomforts were not so very obvious, since they had tried to get the stove\nin the wardroom going for the first time. They were all coughing in the\nsmoke, and everything inside was covered with smuts.\"[104]\n\nThe hut itself was some twelve feet above the sea, and situated upon what\nwas now an almost sandy beach of black lava. It was thought that this was\nhigh enough to be protected from any swell likely to arrive in such a\nsheltered place, but, as we shall see, Scott was very anxious as to the\nfate of the hut, when, on the Depôt journey, a swell removed not only\nmiles of sea-ice and a good deal of Barrier, but also the end of Glacier\nTongue. We never saw this beach again, for the autumn gales covered it\nwith thick drifts of snow, and the thaw was never enough to remove this\nfor the two other summers we spent here. There is no doubt this was an\nexceptional year for thaw. We never again saw a little waterfall such as\nwas now tumbling down the rocks from Skua Lake into the sea.\n\nThe little hill of 66 feet high behind us was soon named Wind Vane Hill,\nand there were other meteorological instruments there besides. A\nsnow-drift or ice-drift always forms to leeward of any such projection,\nand that beneath this hill was large enough for us to drive into it two\nice caves. The first of these was to contain our larder, notably the\nfrozen mutton carcasses brought down by us from New Zealand in the\nice-house on deck. These, however, showed signs of mildew, and we never\nate very freely of them. Seal and penguin were our stock meat foods, and\nmutton was considered to be a luxury.\n\nThe second cave, 13 feet long by 5 feet wide, hollowed out by Simpson and\nWright, was for the magnetic instruments. The temperature of these caves\nwas found to be fairly constant. Unfortunately, this was the only drift\ninto which we could tunnel, and we had no such mass of snow and ice as is\nafforded by the Barrier, which can be burrowed, and was burrowed\nextensively by Amundsen and his men.\n\nThe cases containing the bulk of our stores were placed in stacks\narranged by Bowers up on the sloping ground to the west of the hut,\nbeginning close to the entrance door. The sledges lay on the hill side\nabove them. This arrangement was very satisfactory during the first\nwinter, but the excessive blizzards of the second winter and the immense\namount of snow which was gathering about the camp caused us to move\neverything up to the top of the ridge behind the hut where the wind kept\nthem more clear. Amundsen found it advisable to put his cases in two long\nlines.[105]\n\nThe dogs were tethered to a long chain or rope. The ponies' stable was\nbuilt against the northern side of the hut, and was thus sheltered from\nthe blizzards which always blow here from the south. Against the south\nside of the hut Bowers built himself a store-room. \"Every day he\nconceives or carries out some plan to benefit the camp.\"[106]\n\n\"Scott seems very cheery about things,\" I find in my diary about this\ntime. And well he might be. A man could hardly be better served. We\nslaved until we were nearly dead-beat, and then we found something else\nto do until we were quite dead-beat. Ship's company and landing parties\nalike, not only now but all through this job, did their very utmost, and\ntheir utmost was very good. The way men worked was fierce.\n\n\"If you can picture our house nestling below this small hill on a long\nstretch of black sand, with many tons of provision cases ranged in neat\nblocks in front of it and the sea lapping the ice-foot below, you will\nhave some idea of our immediate vicinity. As for our wider surroundings\nit would be difficult to describe their beauty in sufficiently glowing\nterms. Cape Evans is one of the many spurs of Erebus and the one that\nstands closest under the mountain, so that always towering above us we\nhave the grand snowy peak with its smoking summit. North and south of us\nare deep bays, beyond which great glaciers come rippling over the lower\nslopes to thrust high blue-walled snouts into the sea. The sea is blue\nbefore us, dotted with shining bergs or ice floes, whilst far over the\nSound, yet so bold and magnificent as to appear near, stand the beautiful\nWestern Mountains with their numerous lofty peaks, their deep glacial\nvalley and clear cut scarps, a vision of mountain scenery that can have\nfew rivals.\"[107]\n\n[Illustration: MT. EREBUS, THE RAMP AND THE HUT]\n\n\"Before I left England people were always telling me the Antarctic must\nbe dull without much life. Now we are in ourselves a perfect farmyard.\nThere are nineteen ponies fifty yards off and thirty dogs just behind,\nand they howl like the wolves they are at intervals, led by Dyk. The\nskuas are nesting all round and fighting over the remains of the seals\nwhich we have killed, and the penguins which the dogs have killed,\nwhenever they have got the chance. The collie bitch which we have\nbrought down for breeding purposes wanders about the camp. A penguin is\nstanding outside my tent, presumably because he thinks he is going to\nmoult here. A seal has just walked up into the horse lines--there are\nplenty of Weddell and penguins and whales. On board we have Nigger and a\nblue Persian kitten, with rabbits and squirrels. The whole place teems\nwith life.\n\n\"Franky Drake is employed all day wandering round for ice for watering\nthe ship. Yesterday he had made a pile out on the floe, and the men\nwanted to have a flag put on it, and have it photographed, and called\n'Mr. Drake's Furthest South.'\"[108]\n\nJanuary 25 was fixed as the day upon which twelve of us, with eight\nponies and the two dog-teams, were to start south to lay a depôt upon the\nBarrier for the Polar Journey. Scott was of opinion that the bays between\nus and the Hut Point Peninsula would freeze over in March, probably early\nin March, and that we should most of us get back to Cape Evans then. At\nthe same time the ponies could not come down over the cliffs of this\ntongue of land, and preparations had to be made for a lengthy stay at Hut\nPoint for them and their keepers. For this purpose Scott meant to use the\nold Discovery hut at Hut Point.[109]\n\nOn January 15 he took Meares and one dog-team, and started for Hut Point,\nwhich was fifteen statute miles to the south of us. They crossed Glacier\nTongue, finding upon it a depôt of compressed fodder and maize which had\nbeen left by Shackleton. The open water to the west nearly reached the\nTongue.\n\nOn arrival at the hut Scott was shocked to find it full of snow and ice.\nThis was serious, and, as we found afterwards the drifted snow had thawed\ndown into ice: the whole of the inside of this hut was a big ice block.\nIn the middle of this ice was a pile of cases left by the Discovery as a\ndepôt. They were, we knew, full of biscuit.\n\n\"There was something too depressing in finding the old hut in such a\ndesolate condition. I had had so much interest in seeing all the old\nlandmarks and the huts apparently intact. To camp outside and feel that\nall the old comforts and cheer had departed was dreadfully\nheartrending.\"[110]\n\nThat night \"we slept badly till the morning and, therefore, late. After\nbreakfast we went up the hills; there was a keen S.E. breeze, but the sun\nshone and my spirits revived. There was very much less snow everywhere\nthan I had ever seen. The ski run was completely cut through in two\nplaces, the Gap and Observation Hill almost bare, a great bare slope on\nthe side of Arrival Heights, and on top of Crater Heights an immense bare\ntable-land. How delighted we should have been to see it like this in the\nold days! The pond was thawed and the confervae green in fresh water. The\nhole which we had dug in the mound in the pond was still there, as Meares\ndiscovered by falling into it up to his waist, and getting very wet.\n\n\"On the south side we could see the pressure ridges beyond Pram Point as\nof old--Horseshoe Bay calm and unpressed--the sea-ice pressed on Pram\nPoint and along the Gap ice front, and a new ridge running around C.\nArmitage about 2 miles off. We saw Ferrar's old thermometer tubes\nstanding out of the snow slope as though they'd been placed yesterday.\nVince's cross might have been placed yesterday--the paint was so fresh\nand the inscription so legible.\"[111]\n\nWe had two officers who had been with Shackleton in his 1908\nExpedition--Priestley, who was in our Northern Party, and Day, who was in\ncharge of our motors. Priestley with two others sledged over to Cape\nRoyds and has left an account of the old hut there:\n\n\"After pitching tent Levick and I went over to the hut to forage. On the\nway I visited Derrick Point and took a large seven-pound tin of butter\nwhile Levick opened up the hut. It was very dark inside but I pulled the\nboarding down from the windows so that we could see all right. It was\nvery funny to see everything lying about just as we had left it, in that\nlast rush to get off in the lull of the blizzard. On Marston's bunk was a\nsixpenny copy of the Story of Bessie Costrell, which some one had\nevidently read and left open. Perhaps what brought the old times back\nagain more than anything else was the fact that as I came out of the\nlarder the sleeve of my wind clothes caught the tap of the copper and\nturned it on. When I heard the drip of the water I turned instinctively\nand turned the tap off, almost expecting to hear Bobs' raucous voice\ncursing me for my clumsiness. Perhaps what strikes one more forcibly than\nanything else is the fact that nothing has been disturbed. On the table\nwas the remains of a batch of bread that Bobs had cooked for us and that\nwas only partially consumed before the Nimrod called for us. Some of the\nrolls showed the impression of bites given to them in 1909. All round the\nbread were the sauces, pickles, pepper and salt of our usual standing\nlunch, and a half-opened tin of gingerbreads was a witness to the dryness\nof the climate for they were still crisp as the day they were opened.\n\n\"In the cubicle near the larder were the loose tins that poor Armytage\nand myself had collected from all round the hut before we left.\n\n\"On the shelves of my cubicle are still stacked the magazines and paper\nbrought down by the relief ship. Nothing is changed at all except the\ncompany. It is almost dismal. I expect to see people come in through the\ndoor after a walk over the surrounding hills.\n\n\"We had not much time to look round us; for Campbell was cooking in the\ntent, so we slung a few tins of jam, a plum-pudding, some tea, and\ngingerbreads into a sack, and returned to camp. By this time it was\nsnowing heavily and continued to do so after dinner so that we turned in\nimmediately (1.30 P.M.) and went off to sleep. One thing worth mentioning\nis that on several of the drifts are well-defined hoof marks, some of\nthem looking so new that we could have sworn that they had been made this\nyear.\n\n\"The Old Sport [Levick] gave us a start by suddenly announcing that he\ncould see a ship quite close, and for some time we were on tenterhooks,\nbut his ship proved to be the Terra Nova ice-anchored off the Skuary.\n\n\"The whole place is very eerie, there is such a feeling of life about it.\nNot only do I feel it but the others do also. Last night after I turned\nin I could have sworn that I heard people shouting to each other.\n\n\"I thought that I had only got an attack of nerves but Campbell asked me\nif I had heard any shouting, for he had certainly done so. It must have\nbeen the seals calling to each other, but it certainly did sound most\nhuman. We are getting so worked up that we should not be a bit surprised\nto see a settlement of Japanese or some other such people some day when\nwe stroll round towards Blacksand Beach. The Old Sport created some\namusement this evening by opening a tin of Nestlé's milk at both ends\ninstead of making the two holes at one end. He informed us that he had\ngot so used to using two whole tins of milk for cocoa for fourteen people\nat night that he always opened them that way.\n\n\"As a consequence we have to spend most of our spare time making bungs to\nkeep the milk in the tin.\"[112]\n\nMeanwhile, as was to be expected, the action of the, I suspect, abnormal\nsummer sea temperature was showing its effect upon the sea-ice. Sea-ice\nthaws from below when the temperature of the water rises. The northern\nice goes out first here, being next to the open water, but big thaw pools\nform at the same time wherever a current of water flows over shallows, as\nat the end of Cape Evans, Hut Point and Cape Armitage.\n\nOn January 17 the ice was breaking away between the point of Cape Evans\nand the ship, although a road still remained fast between the ship and\nthe shore. The ship began to get up steam, but the fast ice broke away\nquickly that night. I believe they got steam in three hours, twelve hours\nbeing the time generally allowed: only just in time, however, for she\nbroke adrift as it was reported. The next morning she made fast to the\nice only 200 yards from the ice-foot of the Cape.\n\n\"For the present the position is extraordinarily comfortable. With a\nsoutherly blow she would simply bind on to the ice, receiving great\nshelter from the end of the Cape. With a northerly blow she might turn\nrather close to the shore, where the soundings run to three fathoms, but\nbehind such a stretch of ice she could scarcely get a sea or swell\nwithout warning. It looks a wonderfully comfortable little nook, but of\ncourse one can be certain of nothing in this place; one knows from\nexperience how deceptive the appearance of security may be.\"[113]\n\nThe ship's difficulties were largely due to the shortage of coal. Again\non the night of January 20-21 we had an anxious time.\n\n\"Fearing a little trouble I went out of the hut in the middle of the\nnight and saw at once that she was having a bad time--the ice was\nbreaking with a northerly swell and the wind increasing, with the ship on\ndead lee shore; luckily the ice anchors had been put well in on the floe\nand some still held. Pennell was getting up steam and his men struggling\nto replace the anchors.\n\n\"We got out the men and gave some help. At 6 steam was up, and I was\nright glad to see the ship back out to windward, leaving us to recover\nanchors and hawsers.\"[114]\n\nA big berg drove in just after the ship had got away, and grounded where\nshe had been lying. The ship returned in the afternoon, and it seems that\nshe was searching round for an anchorage, and trying to look behind this\nberg. There was a strongish northerly wind blowing. The currents and\nsoundings round Cape Evans were then unknown. The current was setting\nstrongly from the north through the strip of sea which divides\nInaccessible Island from Cape Evans, a distance of some two-thirds of a\nmile. The engines were going astern, but the current and wind were too\nmuch for her, and the ship ran aground, being fast for some considerable\ndistance aft--some said as far as the mainmast.\n\n\"Visions of the ship failing to return to New Zealand and of sixty people\nwaiting here arose in my mind with sickening pertinacity, and the only\nconsolation I could draw from such imaginations was the determination\nthat the southern work should go on as before--meanwhile the least ill\npossible seemed to be an extensive lightening of the ship with boats as\nthe tide was evidently high when she struck--a terribly depressing\nprospect.\n\n\"Some three or four of us watched it gloomily from the shore whilst all\nwas bustle on board, the men shifting cargo aft. Pennell tells me they\nshifted 10 tons in a very short time.\n\n\"The first ray of hope came when by careful watching one could see that\nthe ship was turning very slowly, then one saw the men running from side\nto side and knew that an attempt was being made to roll her off. The\nrolling produced a more rapid turning movement at first, and then she\nseemed to hang again. But only for a short time; the engines had been\ngoing astern all the time and presently a slight movement became\napparent. But we only knew she was getting clear when we heard cheers on\nboard, and more cheers from the whaler.\n\n\"Then she gathered stern way and was clear. The relief was\nenormous.\"[115]\n\nAll this took some time, and Scott himself came back into the hut with us\nand went on bagging provisions for the Depôt journey. At such times of\nreal disaster he was a very philosophical man. We were not yet ready to\ngo sledging, but on January 23 the ice in North Bay all went out, and\nthat in South Bay began to follow it. Because this was our road to the\nBarrier, it was suddenly decided that we must start on the Depôt journey\nthe following day or perhaps not at all. Already it was impossible to get\nsledges south off the Cape: but there was a way to walk the ponies along\nthe land until they could be scrambled down a steep rubbly slope on to\nsea-ice which still remained. Would it float away before we got there? It\nwas touch and go. \"One breathes a prayer that the Road holds for the few\nremaining hours. It goes in one place between a berg in open water and a\nlarge pool of the Glacier face--it may be weak in that part, and at any\nmoment the narrow isthmus may break away. We are doing it on a very\nnarrow margin.\"[116]\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n [84] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 77.\n\n [85] Thomson.\n\n [86] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 80.\n\n [87] Wilson's Journal, _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. pp. 613,\n 614.\n\n [88] See Introduction, p. xxxv.\n\n [89] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 87.\n\n [90] The extreme south point of the island, a dozen miles farther,\n on one of whose minor headlands, Hut Point, stood the\n Discovery hut.\n\n [91] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. pp. 88-90.\n\n [92] Ibid. p. 91.\n\n [93] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. pp. 52-93.\n\n [94] Ibid. pp. 92-94.\n\n [95] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 111.\n\n [96] Ibid. p. 94.\n\n [97] Ibid. p. 100.\n\n [98] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 230.\n\n [99] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. pp. 113-114.\n\n [100] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. pp. 94-96.\n\n [101] Ibid. p. 106.\n\n [102] My own diary.\n\n [103] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 111.\n\n [104] My own diary.\n\n [105] _The South Pole_, vol. i. p. 278.\n\n [106] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 128.\n\n [107] Ibid. p. 129.\n\n [108] My own diary.\n\n [109] See Introduction, p. xxxiv.\n\n [110] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 122.\n\n [111] Ibid. pp. 122-123.\n\n [112] Priestley's diary.\n\n [113] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 127.\n\n [114] Ibid. p. 134.\n\n [115] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 136.\n\n [116] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 138.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nTHE DEPÔT JOURNEY\n\n The dropping of the daylight in the west.\n ROBERT BROWNING.\n\n\n January to March 1911\n\n SCOTT MEARES CREAN\n WILSON ATKINSON FORDE\n LIEUT. EVANS CHERRY-GARRARD DIMITRI\n BOWERS GRAN\n OATES KEOHANE\n\nImaginative friends of the thirteen men who started from Cape Evans on\nJanuary 24, 1911, may have thought of them as athletes, trained for some\nweeks or months to endure the strains which they were to face, sleeping a\ngood nine hours a night, eating carefully regulated meals and doing an\nallotted task each day under scientific control.\n\nThey would be far from the mark. For weeks we had turned in at midnight\ntoo tired to take off our clothes, and had been lucky if we were allowed\nto sleep until 5 A.M. We had eaten our meals when we could, and we had\nworked in the meantime just as hard as it was physically possible to do.\nIf we sat down on a packing-case we went to sleep.\n\nAnd we finally left the camp in a state of hurry bordering upon panic.\nSince the ice to the south of us, the road to the Barrier, was being\nnibbled away by thaw, winds and tides, it was impossible to lead the\nponies down from the Cape on to the sea-ice. The open sea was before us\nand on our right front. It was necessary to lead them up among the lava\nblocks which lay on the escarpment of Erebus, south-eastwards towards\nLand's End, and thence to slide them down a steep but rubbly slope to the\nice which still remained. As a matter of fact that ice went out the very\nnext day.\n\nDuring the last two days provisions had been bagged with the utmost\ndespatch; sledges packed; letters scribbled; clothing sorted and rough\nalterations to it made. Scott was busy, with Bowers' help, making such\narrangements as could be suggested for a further year's stay, for which\nthe ship was to order the necessaries. Oates was busy weighing out the\npony food for the journey, sorting harness, and generally managing a most\nunruly mob of ponies. Many were the arguments as to the relative value of\na pair of socks or their equivalent weight in tobacco, for we were\nallowed 12 lbs. of private gear apiece, to consist of everything which we\ndid not habitually wear on our bodies. This included such things as:\n\n Sleeping-boots.\n Sleeping-socks.\n Extra pair of day socks.\n A shirt.\n Tobacco and pipe.\n Notebook for diary and pencil.\n Extra balaclava helmet.\n Extra woollen mitts.\n Housewife containing buttons, needles, darning needles,\n thread and wool.\n Extra pair of finnesko.\n Big safety-pins with which to hang up our socks.\n And perhaps one small book.\n\nMy most vivid recollection of the day we started is the sight of Bowers,\nout of breath, very hot, and in great pain from a bad knock which he had\ngiven his knee against a rock, being led forward by his big pony Uncle\nBill, over whom temporarily he had but little control. He had been left\nbehind in the camp, giving last instructions about the storage of cases\nand management of provisions, and had practically lost himself in trying\nto follow us over what was then unknown ground. He was wearing all the\nclothing which was not included in his personal gear, for he did not\nthink it fair to give the pony the extra weight. He had bruised his leg\nin an ugly way, and for many days he came to me to bandage it. He was\nafraid that if he let the doctors see it they would forbid him to go\nforward. He had had no sleep for seventy-two hours.\n\nThat first night (January 24) we pitched our inexperienced camp not far\nfrom Hut Point. But our first taste of sledging was not without incident.\nStarting with the ponies only we walked them to Glacier Tongue, where the\nice and open water joined, and as we went we watched the ship pass us out\nin the Strait and moor up to the end of the Tongue. Getting the ponies\nacross the Tongue with its shallow but numerous crevasses and holes was\nticklish work, but we tethered them safely off the Terra Nova, which\nmeanwhile was landing dogs, sledges and gear. Then we got some lunch on\nboard. A large lead in the sea-ice to the south of the Tongue\nnecessitated some hours' work in man-hauling all sledges along the back\nof the Tongue until a way could be found down on to safe ice. We then\nfollowed with the ponies. \"If a pony falls into one of these holes I\nshall sit down and cry,\" said Oates. Within three minutes my pony was\nwallowing, with only his head and forelegs visible, in a mess of brash\nand snow, which had concealed a crack in the sea-ice which was obviously\nnot going to remain much longer in its present position. We got lashings\nround him and hauled him out. Poor Guts! He was fated to drown: but in an\nhour he appeared to have forgotten all about his mishap, and was pulling\nhis first load towards Hut Point as gallantly as always.\n\nThe next day we took further stores from the ship to the camp which had\nformed. Some of these loads were to be left on the edge of the Barrier\nwhen we got there, but for the present we had to relay, that is, take one\nload forward and come back for another.\n\nOn the 26th we sledged back to the ship for our last load, and said\ngood-bye on the sea-ice to those men with whom we had already worked so\nlong, to Campbell and his five companions who were to suffer so much, to\ncheery Pennell and his ship's company.\n\nBefore we left, Scott thanked Pennell and his men \"for their splendid\nwork. They have behaved like bricks, and a finer lot of men never sailed\nin a ship.... It was a little sad to say farewell to all these good\nfellows and Campbell and his men. I do most heartily trust that all will\nbe successful in their ventures, for indeed their unselfishness and their\ngenerous high spirit deserve reward. God bless them.\"\n\nFour of that Depôt party were never to see these men again, and Pennell,\nCommander of the Queen Mary, went down with his ship in the battle of\nJutland.\n\nTwo days later, January 28, we sledged our first loads on to the Barrier.\nBy that day we had done nearly ninety miles of relay work, first from the\nship at Glacier Tongue to our camp off Hut Point, and then onwards. Those\nfirst days of sledging were wonderful! What memories they must have\nbrought to Scott and Wilson when to us, who had never seen them before,\nthese much-discussed landmarks were almost like old friends. As we made\nour way over the frozen sea every seal-hole was of interest, and every\ntype of wind-swept snow a novelty. The peak of Terror opened out behind\nthe crater of Erebus, and we walked under Castle Rock and Danger Slope\nuntil, rounding the promontory, we saw the little jagged Hut Point, and\non it the cross placed there to Vince's memory, all unchanged. There was\nthe old Discovery hut and the Bay in which the Discovery lay, and from\nwhich she was almost miraculously freed at the last moment, only to be\nflung upon the shoal which runs out from the Point, where some tins of\nthe old Discovery days lie on the bottom still and glint in the evening\nsun. And round about the Bay were the Heights of which we had read,\nObservation Hill, and Crater Hill separated from it by The Gap--through\nwhich the wind was streaming; of course it was, for this must be the\nfamous Hut Point wind.\n\nA few hundred more blizzards had swept over it since those days, but it\nwas all just the same, even to Ferrar's little stakes placed across the\nglacierets to mark their movement, more, even to the footsteps still\nplainly visible on the slopes.\n\nThe ponies were dragging up to 900 lbs. each these days, and though they\ndid not seem to be unduly distressed, two of them soon showed signs of\nlameness. This caused some anxiety, but the trouble was mended by rest.\nOn the whole, though the surface was hard, I think we were giving them\ntoo much weight.\n\nThe sea-ice off Hut Point and Observation Hill was already very\ndangerous, and had we then had the experience and knowledge of sea-ice\nwith which we can now look back, it is probable that we should not have\nslept so easily upon its surface. Parties travelling to Hut Point and\nbeyond in summer must keep well out from the Point and Cape Armitage. But\nall haste was being made to transport the necessary stores on to the\nBarrier surface, where a big home depôt could be made, so far as we could\njudge, in safety. The pressure ridges in the sea-ice between Cape\nArmitage and Pram Point, which are formed by the movement of the Barrier,\nwere large, and in some of the hollows countless seals were playing in\nthe water. Judging by the size of these ridges and by the thickness of\nthis ice when it broke up, the ice south of Hut Point was at least two\nyears old.\n\nI well remember the day we took the first of our loads on to the Barrier.\nI expect we were all a little excited, for to walk upon the Barrier for\nthe first time was indeed an adventure: what kind of surface was it, and\nhow about these beastly crevasses of which we had read so much? Scott was\nahead, and so far as we could see there was nothing but the same level of\nice all round--when suddenly he was above us, walking up the sloping and\nquite invisible drift. A minute after and our ponies and sledges were up\nand over the tide crack, and beneath us soft and yielding snow, very\ndifferent from the hard wind-swept surface of the frozen sea, which we\nhad just left. Really it was rather prosaic and a tame entrance. But the\nBarrier is a tricky place, and it takes years to get to know her.\n\nOn our outward journey this day Oates did his best to kill a seal. My own\ntent was promised some kidneys if we were good, and our mouths watered\nwith the prospect of the hoosh before us. The seal had been left for\ndead, and when on our homeward way we neared the place of his demise\nTitus went off to carve our dinner from him. The next thing we saw was\nthe seal lolloping straight for his hole, while Oates did his best to\nstab him. The quarry made off safely not much hurt, for, as we discovered\nlater, a clasp-knife is quite useless to kill a seal. Oates returned with\na bad cut, as his hand had slipped down the knife; and it was a long time\nbefore he was allowed to forget it.\n\nThis Barrier, which we were to know so well, was soft, too soft for the\nponies, and apparently flat. Only to our left, some hundreds of yards\ndistant, there were two little snowy mounds. We got out the telescope\nwhich we carried, but could make nothing of them. While we held our\nponies Scott walked towards them, and soon we saw him brushing away snow\nand uncovering something dark beneath. They were tents, obviously left by\nShackleton or his men when the Nimrod was embarking his Southern party\nfrom the Barrier. They were snowed up outside, and iced up inside almost\nto the caps. Afterwards we dug them out, a good evening's work. The\nfabric was absolutely rotten, we just tore it down with our hands, but\nthe bamboos and caps were as sound as ever. When we had dug down to the\nfloor-cloth we found everything intact as when it was left. The cooker\nwas there and a primus--Scott lighted it and cooked a meal; we often used\nit afterwards. And there were Rowntree's cocoa, Bovril, Brand's extract\nof beef, sheep's tongues, cheese and biscuits--all open to the snow and\nall quite good. We ate them for several days. There is something\nimpressive in these first meals off food which has been exposed for\nyears.\n\nIt was on a Saturday, January 28, that we took our first load a short\nhalf-mile on to the Barrier and left it at a place afterwards known as\nthe Fodder Depôt. Two days later we moved our camp 1 mile 1200 yards\nfarther on to the Barrier and here was erected the main depôt, known as\nSafety Camp. 'Safety' because it was supposed that even if a phenomenal\nbreak-up of sea-ice should occur, and take with it part of the Barrier,\nthis place would remain. Subsequent events proved the supposition well\nfounded. This short bit of Barrier sledging gave all of us food for\nthought, for the surface was appallingly soft, and the poor ponies were\nsinking deep. It was obvious that no animals could last long under such\nconditions. But somehow Shackleton had got his four a long way.\n\nThere was now no hurry, for there was plenty of food. It was only when we\nwent on from here that we must economize food and travel fast. It was\ndetermined to give the ponies a rest while we made the depôt and\nrearranged sledges, which we did on the following day. We had with us one\npair of pony snow-shoes, a circle of wire as a foundation, hooped round\nwith bamboo, and with beckets of the same material. The surface suggested\ntheir trial, which was completely successful. The question of snow-shoes\nhad been long and anxiously considered, and shoes for all the ponies were\nat Cape Evans; but as we had so lately landed from the ship the ponies\nhad not been trained in their use, and they had not been brought.\n\nScott immediately sent Wilson and Meares with a dog-team to see whether\nthe sea-ice would allow them to reach Cape Evans and bring back shoes for\nthe other ponies. Meanwhile the next morning saw us trying to accustom\nthe animals to wearing snow-shoes by exercising them in the one pair we\npossessed. But it seemed no use continuing to do this after the dog party\ncame in. They had found the sea-ice gone between Glacier Tongue and\nWinter Quarters and so were empty-handed. They reported that a crevasse\nat the edge of the Tongue had opened under the sledge, which had tilted\nback into the crevasse but had run over it. These Glacier Tongue\ncrevasses are shallow things; Gran fell into one later and walked out of\nthe side of the Tongue on to the sea-ice beyond!\n\nIt was determined to start on the following day with five weeks'\nprovisions for men and animals; to go forward for about fourteen days,\ndepôt two weeks' provisions and return. Most unfortunately Atkinson would\nhave to be left behind with Crean to look after him. He had chafed his\nfoot, and the chafe had suppurated. To his great disappointment there was\nno alternative but to lie up. Luckily we had another tent, and there was\nthe cooker and primus we had dug out of Shackleton's tent. Poor Crean was\nto spend his spare time in bringing up loads from the Fodder Depôt to\nSafety Camp and, worse still from his point of view, dig a hole downwards\ninto the Barrier for scientific observations!\n\nWe left the following morning, February 2, and marched on a patchy\nsurface for five miles (Camp 4). The temperature was above zero and Scott\ndecided to see whether the surface was not better at night. On the whole,\nit is problematical whether this is the case--we came to the conclusion\nlater that the ideal surface for pulling a sledge on ski was found at a\ntemperature of about +16°. But there is no doubt whatever that ponies\nshould do their work at night, when the temperature is colder, and rest\nand sleep when the sun has its greatest altitude and power. And so we\ncamped and turned in to our sleeping-bags at 4 P.M. and marched again\nsoon after midnight, doing five miles before and five miles after lunch:\nlunch, if you please, being about 1 A.M., and a very good time, for just\nthen the daylight seemed to be thin and bleak and one always felt the\ncold.\n\nOur road lay eastwards through the Strait, some twenty-five miles in\nwidth, which runs between the low, rather uninteresting scarp of White\nIsland to the south, and the beautiful slopes of Erebus and Terror to the\nnorth. This part of the Barrier is stagnant, but the main stream in front\nof us, unchecked by land, flows uninterruptedly northwards towards the\nRoss Sea. Only where the stream presses against the Bluff, White Island\nand, most important of all, Cape Crozier, and rubs itself against the\nnearly stationary ice upon which we were travelling, pressures and\nrendings take place, forming some nasty crevasses. It was intended to\nsteer nearly east until this line was crossed some distance north of\nWhite Island, and then steer due south.\n\nIt is most difficult on a large snow surface to say whether it is flat.\nCertainly there are plenty of big crevasses for several miles in this\nneighbourhood, though they are generally well covered, and we found only\nvery small ones on this outward journey. I am inclined to think there are\nalso some considerable pressure waves. As we came up to Camp 5 we\nfloundered into a pocket of soft snow in which one pony after another\nplunged deeper and deeper until they were buried up to their bellies and\ncould move no more. I suppose it was an old crevasse filled with soft\nsnow, or perhaps one of the pressure-ridge hollows which had been\nrecently drifted up. My own pony somehow got through with his sledge to\nthe other side, and every moment I expected the ground to fall below us\nand a chasm to swallow us up. The others had to be unharnessed and led\nout. The only set of snow-shoes was then put on to Bowers' big pony and\nhe went back and drew the stranded sledges out. Beyond we pitched our\ncamp.\n\nOn February 3-4 we marched for ten miles to Camp 6. In the last five\nmiles we crossed several crevasses, our first; and I heard Oates ask some\none what they looked like. \"Black as hell,\" he said, but we saw no more\njust now, for this march carried us beyond the line of pressure which\nruns between White Island and Cape Crozier. This halt was called Corner\nCamp, as we turned here and marched due south. Corner Camp will be heard\nof again and again in this story: it is thirty miles from Hut Point.\n\nBy 4 P.M. it was blowing our first Barrier blizzard. We were to find out\nafterwards that a Corner Camp blizzard blows nearly as often as a Hut\nPoint wind. The Bluff seems to be the breeding-place for these\ndisturbances, which pour out towards the sea by way of Cape Crozier.\nCorner Camp is in the direct line between the two.\n\nOne summer blizzard is much like another. The temperature, never very\nlow, rises, and you are not cold in the tent. Sometimes a blizzard is a\nvery welcome rest: after weeks of hard pulling, dragging yourself awake\neach morning, feeling as though you had only just gone to sleep, with\nthe mental strain perhaps which work among crevasses entails, it is most\npleasant to be put to bed for two or three days. You may sleep\ndreamlessly nearly all the time, rousing out for meals, or waking\noccasionally to hear from the soft warmth of your reindeer bag the deep\nboom of the tent flapping in the wind, or drowsily you may visit other\nparts of the world, while the drifting snow purrs against the green tent\nat your head.\n\nBut outside there is raging chaos. It is blowing a full gale: the air is\nfull of falling snow, and the wind drives this along and adds to it the\nloose snow which is lying on the surface of the Barrier. Fight your way a\nfew steps away from the tent, and it will be gone. Lose your sense of\ndirection and there is nothing to guide you back. Expose your face and\nhands to the wind, and they will very soon be frost-bitten. And this at\nmidsummer. Imagine the added cold of spring and autumn: the cold and\ndarkness of winter.\n\nThe animals suffer most, and during this first blizzard all our ponies\nwere weakened, and two of them became practically useless. It must be\nremembered that they had stood for five weeks upon a heaving deck; they\nhad been through one very bad gale: the time during which we were\nunloading the ship was limited, and since that time they had dragged\nheavy loads the greater part of 200 miles. Nothing was left undone for\nthem which we could manage, but necessarily the Antarctic is a grim place\nfor ponies. I think Scott felt the sufferings of the ponies more than the\nanimals themselves. It was different for the dogs. These fairly warm\nblizzards were only a rest for them. Snugly curled up in a hole in the\nsnow they allowed themselves to be drifted over. Bieleglas and Vaida, two\nhalf brothers who pulled side by side, always insisted upon sharing one\nhole, and for greater warmth one would lie on the top of the other. At\nintervals of two hours or so they fraternally changed places.\n\nThis blizzard lasted three days.\n\nWe now marched nearly due south, the open Barrier in front, Mount Terror\nand the sea behind, for five days, covering fifty-four miles, when, being\nnow level with the southern extremity of the Bluff, we laid the Bluff\nDepôt. The bearings of Bluff Depôt, as well as those of Corner Camp, are\ngiven in Scott's Last Expedition.\n\nThe characteristics of these days were the collapse of two of the ponies,\nBlücher and Blossom, and the partial collapse of a third, Jimmy Pigg,\nalthough the surface hardened, becoming a marbled series of wind-swept\nridges and domes in this region. For the rest the new hands were finding\nout how to keep warm on the Barrier, how to pitch a tent and cook a meal\nin twenty minutes, and the thousand and one little tips which only\nexperience can teach. But all the care in the world could do little for\nthe poor ponies.\n\nIt must be confessed at once that some of these ponies were very poor\nmaterial, and it must be conceded that Oates who was in charge of them\nstarted with a very great handicap. From first to last it was Oates'\nconsummate management, seconded by the care and kindness of the ponies'\nleaders, which obtained results which often exceeded the most sanguine\nhopes.\n\nOne evening we watched Scott digging crumbly blocks of snow out of the\nBarrier and building a rough wall, something like a grouse butt, to the\nsouth of his pony. In our inmost hearts I fear we viewed these\nproceedings with distrust, and saw in it but little usefulness,--one\nlittle bit of leaky wall in a great plain of snow. But a very little wind\n(which you must understand comes almost invariably from the south)\nconvinced us from personal experience what a boon these walls could be.\nHenceforward every night on camping each pony leader built a wall behind\nhis pony while his pemmican was cooking, and came out after supper to\nfinish this wall before he turned in to his sleeping-bag--no small thing\nwhen you consider that the warmth of your hours of rest depends largely\nupon getting into your bag immediately you have eaten your hoosh and\ncocoa. And not seldom you might hear a voice in your dreams: \"Bill!\nNobby's kicked his wall down\"; and out Bill would go to build it up\nagain.\n\n[Illustration: DOGSKIN 'MITTS']\n\n[Illustration: SLEDGING SPOON, CUP AND PANNIKIN]\n\nOates wished to take certain of the ponies as far south as possible on\nthe Depôt journey, and then to kill them and leave the meat there as a\ndepôt of dog food for the Polar Journey. Scott was against this plan.\nHere at Bluff Depôt he decided to send back the three weakest ponies\n(Blossom, Blücher and Jimmy Pigg, with their leaders, Lieutenant Evans,\nForde and Keohane). They started back the next morning (February 13)\nwhile the remainder of the party went forward over a surface which\ngradually became softer as we left behind the windy region of the Bluff.\nWe now had with us the two teams of dogs, driven by Meares and Wilson,\nand five ponies.\n\n Scott with 'Nobby.'\n Oates with 'Punch.'\n Bowers with 'Uncle Bill.'\n Gran with 'Weary Willie.'\n Cherry-Garrard with 'Guts.'\n\nScott, Wilson, Meares and myself inhabited one tent, Bowers, Oates and\nGran the other. Scott was evolving in his mind means by which ponies\nshould follow one another in a string, the second pony with his leading\nrein fastened to the back of the sledge of the first and so on, the\ncavalcade to be managed by two or three men only, instead of one man to\nlead each pony.\n\nSunday night (February 12) we started from Bluff Depôt and did seven\nmiles before lunch against a considerable drift and wind. It was pretty\ncold, and ten minutes after we left our lunch camp with the ponies it was\nblowing a full blizzard. The dog party had not started, so we camped and\nslept five in the four-man tent, and it was by no means uncomfortable.\nProbably this was the time when Scott first thought of taking a five-man\nparty to the Pole. By Monday evening the blizzard was over, the dogs came\nup, and we did 6½ miles of very heavy going. Gran's pony, Weary Willie, a\nsluggish and obstinate animal, was far behind, as usual, when we halted\nour ponies at the camping place. Farther off the dog-teams were coming\nup. What happened never became clear. Poor Weary, it seems, was in\ndifficulties in a snow-drift: the dogs of one team being very hungry\ntook charge of their sledge and in a moment were on the horse, to all\npurposes a pack of ravenous wolves. Gran and Weary made a good fight and\nthe dogs were driven off, but Weary came into camp without his sledge,\ncovered with blood and looking very sick.\n\nWe halted after doing only ¾ mile more after lunch; for the pony was\ndone, and little wonder. The following day we did 7½ miles with\ndifficulty, both Uncle Bill and Weary Willie going very slowly and\nstopping frequently. The going was very deep. The ponies were fast giving\nout, and it was evident that we had much to learn as to their use on the\nBarrier; they were thin and very hungry; their rations were\nunsatisfactory; and the autumn temperatures and winds were beyond their\nstrength. We went on one more day in a minus twenty temperature and light\nairs, and then in latitude 79° 29´ S. it was determined to lay the depôt,\nwhich was afterwards known as One Ton, and return. In view of subsequent\nevents it should be realized that this depôt was just a cairn of snow in\nwhich were buried food and oil, and over which a flag waved on a bamboo.\nThere is no land visible from One Ton except on a very clear day and it\nis 130 geographical miles from Hut Point.\n\nWe spent a day making up the mound which contained about a ton of\nprovisions, oil, compressed fodder, oats and other necessaries for the\nforthcoming Polar Journey. Scott was satisfied with the result, and\nindeed this depôt ensured that we could start southwards for the Pole\nfully laden from this point.\n\nHere the party was again split into two for the return. Scott was anxious\nto get such news about the landing of Campbell's party on King Edward\nVII.'s Land as the ship should have left at Hut Point on her return\njourney. He decided to take the two dog-teams, the first with himself and\nMeares, the second with Wilson and myself, and make a quick return,\nleaving Bowers with Oates and Gran to help him to bring back the five\nponies, driving them one behind the other.\n\n * * * * *\n\nTHE RETURN OF THE PONY PARTY FROM ONE TON DEPÔT\n\n(_From a Letter written by Bowers_)\n\nAs our loads were so light Titus thought it would be better for the\nponies to do their full march in one stretch and so have a longer rest.\nWe, therefore, decided to forgo lunch and have a good meal on camping.\nThe recent trails were fresh enough to follow and so saved us steering by\ncompass, which is very difficult as the needle will only come to rest\nafter you have been standing still for about a minute. That march was\nextraordinary, the snowy mist hid all distant objects and made all close\nones look gigantic. Although we were walking on a flat undulating plain,\none could not get away from the impression that the ground was\nhilly--quite steep in places with deep hollows by the wayside. Suddenly a\nherd of apparent cattle would appear in the distance, then you would\nthink, 'No, it's a team of dogs broken loose and rushing towards you.' In\nanother moment one would be walking over the black dots of some old horse\ndroppings which had been the cause of the hallucinations. Since then I\nhave often been completely taken in by appearances under certain\nconditions of light, and the novelty has worn off. Sastrugi are the hard\nwaves formed by wind on a snow surface; these are seldom more than a foot\nor so in height, and often so obscured as to be imperceptible\nirregularities. On this occasion they often appeared like immense ridges\nuntil you walked over them. After going about 10 miles we spotted a tiny\nblack triangle in the dead white void ahead, it was over a mile away and\nwas the lunch camp of the dogs. We were fairly close before they broke\ncamp and hurriedly packed up. I thought they looked rather sheepish at\nhaving been caught up, like the hare and the tortoise again. Still we had\nbeen marching very quickly and Scott was delighted to see Weary Willie\ngoing so well. They then dashed off, and after completing just over 12\nmiles we reached Pagoda Cairn where a bale of fodder had been left.\n\nHere we camped and threw up our walls as quickly as possible to shelter\nthe beasts from the cold wind. Weary was the most annoying, he would\ndeliberately back into his wall and knock the whole structure down. In\nthe case of my own pony, I had to put the wall out of his reach as his\naim in life was to eat it, generally beginning at the bottom. He would\ndiligently dislodge a block, and bring down the whole fabric. One cannot\nbe angry with the silly beggars--Titus says a horse has practically no\nreasoning power, the thing to do is simply to throw up another wall and\nkeep on at it.\n\nThe weather cleared during the night, and the next day, February 19, we\nstarted off under ideal conditions, the sun was already dipping pretty\nlow, marks easy to pick up, and on this occasion we could plainly see a\ncairn over seven miles away, raised by the mirage; the only trouble about\nseeing things so far off is that they take such an awful time to reach.\nMirage is a great feature down here and one of the most common of optical\nphenomena on the Barrier; it is often difficult to persuade oneself that\nopen water does not lie ahead. We passed the scene of Weary Willie's\nfight with the dogs during the march and also had an amusing argument as\nto a dark object on the snow ahead. At first we thought it was the dog\ncamp again, but it turned out to be an empty biscuit tin, such is the\ndeceptive nature of the light. Later we sighted our old blizzard camp and\ndecided to utilize the walls again. Weary Willie was decidedly worse and\nhad to be literally jumped along by the pony to which he was attached.\nWithin half a mile of the walls Weary refused to go farther, and after\nwasting some time in vain efforts to urge him on we had to camp where we\nwere, having only done 10½ miles. This was very sad, but I took hope from\nthe fact that Titus, who is usually pretty pessimistic, had not yet given\nup hopes of getting him back alive. He had an extra whack of oats at the\nexpense of the other ponies, and my big beast made up for his shortage by\nhauling the sledge towards him with his tethered leg, and forcing his\nnose into our precious biscuit tank, out of which he helped himself\nliberally at our expense. The sledges were now too light to anchor the\nanimals, so we had to peg them down with anything we could and bank them\nup with snow.\n\nWeary was better the next day (February 20) but we decided at the outset\nto go no farther than the Bluff Camp where we had left some fodder. This\nwas barely 10 miles off, yet my old animal showed signs of lassitude\nbefore the end; there was nothing alarming, however, and we saw the depôt\nover five miles off which interested the beasts, who see these things and\nsomehow connect them, in the backs of their silly old heads, with food\nand rest. Weary Willie made a decided improvement, so we camped in high\nspirits. Captain Scott had asked me if possible to take some theodolite\nobservations for the determination of the position of Bluff Camp. Ours is\nmuch farther off and farther beyond the Bluff than the old Discovery\nDepôt A, which was practically the same position Shackleton used. In both\ncases, Scott and Shackleton were keeping nearer the coast; now, however,\nthat the Beardmore has been discovered we can aim straight for that,\nwhich takes one farther east by at least 15 miles off the Bluff. This is\nrather an advantage, I think, as close in to this remarkable headland the\nonward movement of the Barrier arrested by the immovable hills causes a\nterrific chaos of crevasses off the cliffs at the end. These extend many\nmiles and include some chasms big enough to take the Terra Nova all\nstanding. Needless to remark, one is well clear of this sort of scenery\nwith ponies--hence our course. I was unable to get any observations,\nunfortunately, as it clouded over almost at once and later in the day\nstarted to snow without wind. This often happens before a bliz, and as we\nwere anxious about the ponies to say nothing of our own shortage of\nbiscuit we felt a trifle apprehensive. It was very gloomy when we left\ncamp at midnight, as the midnight sun was already cartwheeling the\nsouthern horizon, the first sign of autumn, also the season had\nundoubtedly broken up, and the sky was covered with low stratus clouds as\nthick as a hedge. We lost sight of the cairn almost at once and followed\nthe remains of old tracks for a little while till the snowy gloom made it\nimpossible to see them. You will remember that it was at the Bluff Camp\nthat Teddy Evans returned with the three weak ponies, so there were\nplenty of traces of our march now. Just on four miles from the start I\nsaw a small mound some distance to the west, and struck over there: it\nwas a small cairn without the signs of a camp and rather puzzled me at\nthe time. As I shall mention it later I will call it X for convenience.\nWe then pushed on and I found steering most difficult. In the fuzzy\nnothingness ahead one could see no point on which to fix the eye, and the\ncompass required standing still to look at it every time. Our sledging\ncompasses are spirit ones, and as steady as a small hand compass could\npossibly be. You will understand, however, that owing to the proximity of\nthe Magnetic Pole the pull on the needle is chiefly downwards. It is\nforced into a horizontal position by a balancing weight on the N. side,\nso it is obvious that its direction power is greatly reduced. On the\nship, owing to the vibration of the engines and the motors, we were\nabsolutely unable to steer by the compass at all when off the region of\nthe Magnetic Pole.\n\nOn this occasion (February 21) we zig-zagged all over the place--first I\nwent ahead, and Oates said I zig-zagged, then he went ahead, and I\nunderstood at once, as it was impossible to walk straight for two\nconsecutive minutes. However, we plodded along with frequent stoppages\ntill the wind came away, and then having determined the direction of\nthat, steered by keeping the snow on our backs. The wind was not strong\nenough to be unpleasant, and all was well. We legged it into the void for\nnearly seven miles beyond X Cairn when I suddenly found myself only a few\nyards away from another cairn. This shows that somehow, without the use\nof tracks or landmarks, we had marched seven miles without being able to\nsee thirty yards, and had yet hit off the direct track to a T; of course,\nit was only coincidence, though some people might credit themselves with\nsuperlative navigating powers on such evidence. The wind increased, and\nwith the knowledge I now have of blizzards I would camp at once. Then I\nthought it better to shove on, as the ponies were marching splendidly.\nThe danger lay in the fact that though it is easy enough for you to\nmarch with the wind behind, you can't march for ever and you will\nprobably get tired before the wind does. Camping in a stiff breeze is\nalways difficult, to say nothing of a gale; and for three men with five\nponies to manage would be wellnigh impossible. Fortunately for us this\nwas not really a blizzard, though it was quite near enough to one. The\nsky broke later and showed the Bluff and White Island, and then the\nscurrying clouds of drift would encircle us to break again and come on\nagain.\n\nAfter having done seventeen miles we got a lull and stopped to camp right\naway. We were pretty quick about it, and fortunately got the ponies\npicketed, and tent pitched, before the wind came down on us again. We\nwere pretty hungry by the time the walls were erected. Still we were\nquite happy, ate everything we could get, except the three lumps of sugar\nI always kept for old Uncle Bill out of my whack. The little blow blew\nitself out towards evening and in perfect calm and sunshine I got a\nsplendid set of observations. Erebus and Terror were showing up as clear\nas a bell and I got a large number of angles for Evans' survey. We\nstarted out as usual, and had the most pleasant, as well as the longest,\nof our return marches on the last day of summer, February 22. We did\neighteen miles right off the reel, the sun was brilliant from midnight\nonwards. He now half immersed himself below the horizon for a short\ninterval once in 24 hours. All old cairns were visible a tremendous\ndistance, six or seven miles at least for big ones. Mount Terror lay\nstraight ahead and looked so clear that it seemed impossible to imagine\nit 70 miles away. At the end of our march we saw a small cairn beyond our\n8th outward camp mound. Nobody would have rigged up another cairn so\nclose without an object, so the thought of a dead horse flashed through\nmy mind at once. Titus was so sure that Blücher would never get back,\nthat he had bet Gran a biscuit on it. I saw the cairn had a fodder bale\non the top, and later saw a note made fast to the wire. It was in Teddy\nEvans' handwriting and to our surprise recorded Blossom's death. Titus\nwas so sure that Blossom would survive Blücher that we started to think\nback and thus the mystery of X Cairn was clear to me. I was quite certain\nnow that both the ancient ponies had died and that Jimmy Pigg had\nreturned alone. The following day (February 23) was a good marching day\nalso, but a bit cloudy latterly. We did fourteen miles as this evidence\nof pony failure made us all the more anxious about ours, though really\nthey were going very well. About eight miles on we came to one of Evans'\ncamps and the solitary pony wall told its own tale of the death of the\nother two. He must have had a miserable return. At eleven miles there\nwere two bales of fodder depôted, we were only 50 miles odd from our\ndestination off Cape Armitage, and had one meal over three days' food.\nIf, therefore, we could average 15 miles a day that would suffice. It was\na silly risk in view of blizzards and other possibilities, chiefly our\nown inexperience. As it was I took it and left the fodder there for next\nyear.\n\nFebruary 24 was another march into impenetrable gloom. Fortunately Corner\nCamp, though dark enough, was not shaded in mist. I examined it for notes\nand evidence and found some. The sun set properly now, and had we been\nfarther from home I should have changed to day marching. I have seldom\nseen such a scene of utter desolation as Corner Camp presented on that\ngloomy day. The fog then settled down and like people of the mist, we\nstruck off blindly to the N.W. At 3.15 A.M. a light S. breeze came away;\nI dreaded a blizzard with so little pony food, and already regretted my\nfolly in leaving the fodder. After doing twelve miles we had to camp, as\nit was impossible even to march straight in the white haze. We made five\ncolossal walls and turned in, hoping for the best. Fortune favours the\nreckless, as well as the brave, at times, and it did this time, as the\nblizzard still held off. The signs of one impending were unmistakable\nnotwithstanding. Weary Willie did less well on February 25, and as the\nsurface became heavier, we had to camp after only doing eleven miles.\n\nI thought best in view of the threatening appearance of the weather to\nhave a six hours' rest, and march into Safety Camp the same day, a\ndistance of eight miles. We found to our horror that Gran had dropped\nthe top cap of our primus at the last camp. Cold food stared us in face!\n\nHowever, we did manage to melt some snow for a cheering drink by cutting\na piece of tin as near the shape of the cap as possible. Our biscuit was\nfinished owing to the ravages of my pony. Before turning in I saw some\nspecks to the N. and skipping my theodolite on its tripod, looked through\nthe telescope and saw two tents and a number of ski stuck up. [This was\nScott's man-hauling party together with Jimmy Pigg, going out to Corner\nCamp.] This we concluded was either a man-hauling, or man and beast party\nbound for Corner Camp. We overslept and so did not get away till the\nafternoon. It was still very cloudy and threatening. I found that I had\nsteered considerably to the southward of the right direction in the fog,\nand it is lucky we met with no crevasses off White Island. Safety Camp at\nlast appeared, and the last four miles seemed interminable. We had given\nthe animals their last feed before starting, not a particle remained, but\nthey stuck it. The surface was very heavy. Once, however, that they had\nseen the camp they never stopped. I suppose they knew they were nearly\nhome. We marched in about 9.30 P.M. I said 'Thank God' when I looked at\nthe weather, and the empty sledges. The dogs were in camp, also the dome\ntent [we had some tents shaped like a dome in addition to those we used\nfor sledging], out of which Uncle Bill (the real 'Uncle Bill Wilson') and\nMeares emerged. We soon had the ponies behind walls and well fed,\nborrowed their primus for ourselves, and had a square meal of pemmican\nand biscuit with fids of seal liver in it.\n\n(End of Bowers' Account.)\n\n\nTHE RETURN OF THE DOG PARTY\n\nThe history of the dog-teams was eventful. We travelled fast, doing\nnearly 78 miles in the first three days, by which time we were\napproaching Corner Camp. The dogs were thin and hungry and we were\npushing them each day just so long as they could pull, running ourselves\nfor the most part. Scott determined to cut the corner, that is to miss\nCorner Camp and cut diagonally across our outward track. It was not\nexpected that this would bring us across any badly crevassed area.\n\nWe started on the evening of February 20 in a very bad light. It was\ncoldish, with no wind. After going about three miles I saw a drop in the\nlevel of the Barrier which the sledge was just going to run over. I\nshouted to Wilson to look out, but he had already jumped on to the sledge\n(for he was running) having seen Stareek put his paws through. It was a\nnasty crevasse, about twenty feet across with blue holes on both sides.\nThe sledge ran over and immediately on the opposite side was brought up\nby a large 'haystack' of pressure which we had not seen owing to the\nlight. Meares' team, on our left, never saw any sign of pressure. The\nlight was so bad that we never saw this cairn of ice until we ran into\nit.\n\nWe ran level for another two miles, Meares and Scott on our left. We were\nevidently crossing many crevasses. Quite suddenly we saw the dogs of\ntheir team disappearing, following one another, just like dogs going down\na hole after some animal.\n\n\"In a moment,\" wrote Scott, \"the whole team were sinking--two by two we\nlost sight of them, each pair struggling for foothold. Osman the leader\nexerted all his strength and kept a foothold--it was wonderful to see\nhim. The sledge stopped and we leapt aside. The situation was clear in\nanother moment. We had been actually travelling along the bridge [or snow\ncovering] of a crevasse, the sledge had stopped on it, whilst the dogs\nhung in their harness in the abyss, suspended between the sledge and the\nleading dog. Why the sledge and ourselves didn't follow the dogs we shall\nnever know.\"\n\nWe of the other sledge stopped hurriedly, tethered our team and went to\ntheir assistance with the Alpine rope. Osman, the big leader, was in\ngreat difficulties. He crouched resisting with all his enormous strength\nthe pull of the rope upon which the team hung in their harness in mid\nair. It was clear that if Osman gave way the sledge and dogs would\nprobably all be lost down the crevasse.\n\nFirst we pulled the sledge off the crevasse, and drove the tethering peg\nand driving stick through the cross pieces to hold it firm. Scott and\nMeares then tried to pull up the rope from Osman's end, while we hung on\nto the sledge to prevent it slipping down the crevasse. They could not\nmove it an inch. We then put the strain as much as possible on to a peg.\nMeanwhile two dogs had fallen out of their harness into the crevasse and\ncould be seen lying on a snow-ledge some 65 feet down. Later they curled\nup and went to sleep. Another dog as he hung managed to get some purchase\nfor his feet on the side of the crevasse, and a free fight took place\namong several more of them, as they dangled, those that hung highest\nusing the backs of those under them to get a purchase.\n\n\"It takes one a little time,\" wrote Scott, \"to make plans under such\nsudden circumstances, and for some minutes our efforts were rather\nfutile. We could not get an inch on the main trace of the sledge or on\nthe leading rope, which was binding Osman to the snow with a throttling\npressure. Then thought became clearer. We unloaded our sledge, putting in\nsafety our sleeping-bags with the tent and cooker. Choking sounds from\nOsman made it clear that the pressure on him must soon be relieved. I\nseized the lashing off Meares' sleeping-bag, passed the tent poles across\nthe crevasse, and with Meares managed to get a few inches on the leading\nline; this freed Osman, whose harness was immediately cut.\n\n\"Then securing the Alpine rope to the main trace we tried to haul up\ntogether. One dog came up and was unlashed, but by this time the rope had\ncut so far back at the edge that it was useless to attempt to get more of\nit. But we could now unbend the sledge, and do that for which we should\nhave aimed from the first, namely, run the sledge across the gap and work\nfrom it. We managed to do this, our fingers constantly numbed. Wilson\nheld on to the anchored trace whilst the rest of us laboured at the\nleader end. The leading rope was very small and I was fearful of its\nbreaking, so Meares was lowered down a foot or two to secure the Alpine\nrope to the leading end of the trace; this done, the work of rescue\nproceeded in better order. Two by two we hauled the animals up to the\nsledge and one by one cut them out of their harness. Strangely the last\ndogs were the most difficult, as they were close under the lip of the\ngap, bound in by the snow-covered rope. Finally, with a gasp we got the\nlast poor creature on to firm snow. We had recovered eleven of the\nthirteen.\"[117]\n\nThe dogs had been dangling for over an hour, and some of them showed\nsigns of internal injuries. Meanwhile the two remaining dogs were lying\ndown the crevasse on a snow-ledge. Scott proposed going down on the\nAlpine rope to get them; all his instincts of kindness were aroused, as\nwell as the thought of the loss of two of the team. Wilson thought it was\na mad idea and very dangerous, and said so, asking however whether he\nmight not go down instead of Scott if anybody had to go. Scott insisted,\nand we paid down the 90-foot Alpine rope to test the distance. The ledge\nwas about 65 feet below. We lowered Scott, who stood on the ledge while\nwe hauled up the two dogs in turn. They were glad to see him, and little\nwonder!\n\nBut the rescued dogs which were necessarily running about loose on the\nBarrier, in their mangled harnesses, chose this moment to start a free\nfight with the other team. With a hurried shout down the crevasse we had\nto rush off to separate them. Nougis I. had been considerably mauled\nbefore this was done--also, incidentally, my heel! But at last we\nseparated them, and hauled Scott to the surface. It was all three of us\ncould do and our fingers were frost-bitten towards the end.\n\nScott's interest in the incident, apart from the recovery of the dogs,\nwas scientific. Since we were running across the line of cleavage when\nthe dogs went down, it was to be expected that we should be crossing the\ncrevasses at right angles, and not be travelling, as actually happened,\nparallel to, or along them. While we were getting him up the sixty odd\nfeet to which we had lowered him he kept muttering: \"I wonder why this is\nrunning the way it is--you expect to find them at right angles,\" and\nwhen down the crevasse he wanted to go off exploring, but we managed to\npersuade him that the snow-ledge upon which he was standing was utterly\nunsafe, and indeed we could see the nothingness below through the blue\nholes in the shelf. Another regret was that we had no thermometer: the\ntemperature of the inside of the Barrier is of great interest and a\nfairly reliable record of the average temperature throughout the year\nmight have been obtained when so far down into it. Altogether we could\ncongratulate ourselves on a fortunate ending to a nasty business. We\nexpected several more miles of crevasses, and the wind was getting up,\ndriving the surface drift like smoke over the ground, with a very black\nsky to the south. We pitched the tent, had a good meal and mended the dog\nharness which had been ruthlessly cut in clearing the dogs. Luckily we\nfound no more crevasses for it was now blowing hard, and rescue work\nwould have been difficult, and we pushed on as far as possible that\nnight, doing eleven miles after lunch, and sixteen for the day. It had\nbeen strenuous, for we had been working in or over the crevasse for 2½\nhours, and dogs and men were tired out. It cleared and became quite warm\nas we camped. There was a pleasant air of friendship in the tent that\nnight, rather more than usual. That is generally the result of this kind\nof business.\n\nWe reached Safety Camp next day (February 22) anxious for news of the\nship's doings, the landing of Campbell's party, and of the ponies which\nhad been sent back from the Bluff Depôt. Lieutenant Evans, Forde and\nKeohane, the pony leaders, were there, but only one pony. The other two\nhad died of exhaustion soon after they left us and we had passed the\ncairns which marked their graves without knowledge. Their story was grim,\nand they had had a mournful journey back. First Blossom, and then Blücher\ncollapsed, their ends being hastened by the blizzard of February 1.\n\nThis crevasse incident, followed by the news of the loss of the ponies,\nwas a blow to Scott, and his mind was also uneasy about Atkinson and\nCrean, whom we had left here, and who had disappeared leaving no record.\nNor was the report from the Terra Nova here, so we judged that the\nmissing men and the report must be at Hut Point. After three or four\nhours' sleep, and a cup of tea and a biscuit, we started man-hauling with\ncooker and sleeping-bags: the former because we were to have our good\nmeal at the hut, the latter in case we were hung up. Travelling over the\nsea-ice as far as the Gap, from which we saw that the open sea reached to\nHut Point, we made our way into the hut, and there was a mystery. The\naccumulations of ice which we found in it were dug away: there was a\nnotice outside dated February 8 saying, \"mail for Captain Scott is in bag\ninside south door.\" We hunted everywhere, but there was no Atkinson nor\nCrean, nor mail, nor the things which the ship was to have brought. All\nkinds of wild theories were advanced. By the presence of a fresh onion\nand some bread it was clear that the ship's party had been there, but the\nrest was utterly vague. It was then suggested that we were expected back\nabout this time, and that the missing men had been sledging to Safety\nCamp round Cape Armitage on the very shaky sea-ice while we passed them\nas we came through the Gap. Sledge tracks were found leading on to the\nsea-ice: we started back in doubt. Scott was terribly anxious, we were\nall tired, and the depôt never seemed to come nearer. It was not until we\nwere some two hundred yards from it that we saw the extra tent. \"Thank\nGod!\" I heard Scott mutter under his breath, and \"I believe you were even\nmore anxious than I was, Bill.\"\n\nAtkinson had the ship's mail, signed by Campbell. \"Every incident of the\nday,\" Scott wrote, \"pales before the startling contents of the mail-bag\nwhich Atkinson gave me--a letter from Campbell setting out his doings and\nthe finding of Amundsen established in the Bay of Whales.\"\n\n[Illustration: HUT POINT--E. A. Wilson, del.]\n\nStrongly as Scott tries to word this, it quite fails to convey how he\nfelt, and how we all felt more or less, in spite of the warning conveyed\nin the telegram from Madeira to Melbourne. For an hour or so we were\nfuriously angry, and were possessed with an insane sense that we must go\nstraight to the Bay of Whales and have it out with Amundsen and his\nmen in some undefined fashion or other there and then. Such a mood could\nnot and did not bear a moment's reflection; but it was natural enough. We\nhad just paid the first instalment of the heart-breaking labour of making\na path to the Pole; and we felt, however unreasonably, that we had earned\nthe first right of way. Our sense of co-operation and solidarity had been\nwrought up to an extraordinary pitch; and we had so completely forgotten\nthe spirit of competition that its sudden intrusion jarred frightfully. I\ndo not defend our burst of rage--for such it was--I simply record it as\nan integral human part of my narrative. It passed harmlessly; and Scott's\naccount proceeds as follows:\n\n\"One thing only fixes itself definitely in my mind. The proper, as well\nas the wiser, course for us is to proceed exactly as though this had not\nhappened. To go forward and do our best for the honour of the country\nwithout fear or panic. There is no doubt that Amundsen's plan is a very\nserious menace to ours. He has a shorter distance to the Pole by 60\nmiles--I never thought he could have got so many dogs safely to the ice.\nHis plan of running them seems excellent. But, above and beyond all, he\ncan start his journey early in the season--an impossible condition with\nponies.\"[118]\n\nWe read that on leaving McMurdo Sound the Terra Nova coasted eastward\nalong the Barrier face, with Campbell and his men who were to be landed\non King Edward VII.'s Land if possible. She surveyed the face of the\nBarrier as she went from Cape Crozier to longitude 170° W., whence she\nshaped a course direct for Cape Colbeck, which Priestley states in his\ndiary \"is only 200 feet high according to our measurement and looks\nuncommonly like common or garden Barrier.\"\n\nHere they met heavy pack, and were forced to return without finding any\nplace where the cliff was low enough to allow Campbell and his five men\nto land. They coasted back, making for an inlet known as Balloon Bight.\nPriestley tells the story:\n\n\"February 1, 1911. Our trip has not been without outcome after all, and\nall our doubts about wintering here or in South Victoria Land have been\nsettled in a startling fashion. About ten o'clock we steamed into a deep\nbay in the Barrier which proved to be Shackleton's Bay of Whales, and our\nobservations in the last expedition [Shackleton's] have been wonderfully\nupheld. Our present sights and angles Pennell tells me are almost a\nduplicate of those that we got. Every one has always been doubtful about\nthe Bay of Whales we reported, but now the matter has been set at rest\nfinally. There is no doubt now that Balloon Bight and the neighbouring\nbay marked on the Discovery's chart have become merged into one, and\nfurther, that since that period the resulting bight has broken back\nconsiderably more: indeed it seems to have altered a good deal on its\nwestern border since our visit to it in 1908. Otherwise it is the same,\nthe same deceptive caves and shadows having from a distance the\nappearance of rock exposures, the same pressure-ridged cliffs, the same\nundulations behind, the same expanse of sea-ice and even the same crowds\nof whales. I hope that before we leave we shall find it possible to\nsurvey the bight, but that depends on the weather. It was satisfactory to\nfind all our observations coming right and everybody backing up\nShackleton, and I turned in last night feeling quite cheerful and\nbelieving that there would be a really good chance of the Eastern Party\nfinding a home on the Barrier here--our last chance of surveying King\nEdward's Land.\n\n\"However, man proposes but God disposes, and I was waked up by Lillie at\none o'clock this morning by the astounding news that there was a ship in\nthe bay at anchor to the sea-ice. All was confusion on board for a few\nminutes, everybody rushing up on deck with cameras and clothes.\n\n\"It was no false alarm, there she was within a few yards of us, and what\nis more, those of us who had read Nansen's books recognized the Fram.\n\n\"She is rigged with fore and aft sails and as she has petrol engines she\nhas no funnel. Soon afterwards the men forward declared that they sighted\na hut on the Barrier, and the more excited declared that there was a\nparty coming out to meet us. Campbell, Levick, and myself were therefore\nlowered over the side of the ship while she was being made fast, and set\noff on ski towards the dark spot we could see. This proved to be only an\nabandoned depôt and we returned to the ship, where Campbell, who in his\nanxiety to be the first to meet them had left us beginners far behind,\nhad opened up conversation with the night watchman.\n\n\"He informed us that there were only three men on board and that the\nremainder of them were settling Amundsen in winter quarters about as far\nfrom the depôt as the depôt was from the ship. Amundsen is coming to\nvisit the Fram to-morrow, and we are staying long enough to allow Pennell\nand Campbell to interview him. They reached the pack about January 6 and\nwere through it by the 12th, so they did not have as bad a time as we\ndid. They inform us that Amundsen does not intend to make his descent on\nthe Pole until next year. This is encouraging as it means a fair race for\nthe next summer, though the news we are bringing to them will keep the\nWestern [Main] Party on tenterhooks of excitement all the winter.\n\n\"Our plans have of course been decided for us. We cannot according to\netiquette trench on their winter quarters, but must return to McMurdo\nSound and then go off towards Robertson Bay and settle ourselves as best\nwe can. While we are waiting events we have not been by any means idle.\nRennick got a sounding, 180 fathoms, and the crew have killed three\nseals, including one beautiful silver crab-eater, Lillie has secured\nwater samples at 50, 100, 150, and 170 fathoms and has had a haul with\nthe plankton net, and Williams is endeavouring to fit up the trawl for a\nhaul to-morrow if we get time and appropriate weather. I got a roll of\nfilms and gave the roll to Drake to take home and get developed in\nChristchurch. There are photographs of the Fram, of the Fram and Terra\nNova together, of their depôt, and of the ice-cliffs and the sea-ice\nwhich is decidedly overcut, the thick snow having been removed in places\nby the swell until a ledge several yards wide is lying just submerged.\n\n\"It has been calm all the night with the snow falling at intervals.\n\n\"February 4, 1911. I was waked at seven o'clock this morning by Levick\ndemanding the loan of my camera. It appears that Amundsen, Johansen and\nsix men had arrived at the Fram this morning at about 6.30 A.M., and had\ncome over to interview Campbell and Pennell. Campbell, Pennell and Levick\nthen went back to breakfast with them and stayed until nearly noon when\nthey returned telling us to expect Amundsen, Nilsen, the first lieutenant\nof the Fram who is taking her back after landing the party, and a young\nlieutenant whose name none of us caught, to lunch. After lunch a party of\nofficers and men went to see the rest of the Norwegians, see over the\nship, and say good-bye. I did not go and was able to show Lieut. Jensen\nover the ship in the meantime. About three o'clock we let go the ice\nanchor and parted from the Fram, steaming along the ice very slowly in\norder to dredge from 190 to 300 fathoms. The haul was successful, about\ntwo bucketsful of the muddy bottom being secured, and a still more\nvaluable catch from the biological point of view were two long crinoids,\nabout a couple of feet in length and in fairly perfect condition, which\nhad become attached to the outside of the net.\n\n\"We are now standing along the Barrier continuing our survey to the bight\nwe first struck, after which we sail to Cape Evans, stay a day there and\nthen make up North to try and effect a lodgment on the coast beyond Cape\nAdare.\n\n\"During the morning Browning and I examined the ice-face forming the\neastern face of the bight. We found it to be made of clear ice of grain\nfrom a quarter to three-eighths of an inch in size and full of bubbles.\n\n\"On the way there I took a couple of photographs of some of Amundsen's\ndogs, and when we were there I got a few of crevasses and caves in the\nBarrier face.\n\n\"Well! we have left the Norwegians and our thoughts are full, too full,\nof them at present. The impression they have left with me is that of a\nset of men of distinctive personality, hard, and evidently inured to\nhardship, good goers and pleasant and good-humoured. All these qualities\ncombine to make them very dangerous rivals, but even did one want not to,\none cannot help liking them individually in spite of the rivalry.\n\n\"One thing I have particularly noticed is the way in which they are\nrefraining from getting information from us which might be useful to\nthem. We have news which will make the Western Party as uneasy as\nourselves and the world will watch with interest a race for the Pole next\nyear, a race which may go any way, and may be decided by luck or by\ndogged energy and perseverance on either side.\n\n\"The Norwegians are in dangerous winter quarters, for the ice is breaking\nout rapidly from the Bay of Whales which they believe to be\nBorchgrevink's Bight, and they are camped directly in front of a distinct\nline of weakness. On the other hand if they get through the winter safely\n(and they are aware of their danger), they have unlimited dogs, the\nenergy of a nation as northern as ourselves, and experience with\nsnow-travelling that could be beaten by no collection of men in the\nworld.\n\n\"There remains the Beardmore Glacier. Can their dogs face it, and if so,\nwho will get there first. One thing I feel and that is that our Southern\nParty will go far before they permit themselves to be beaten by any one,\nand I think that two parties are very likely to reach the Pole next year,\nbut God only knows which will get there first.\n\n\"A few of the things we learnt about the Norwegians are as follows:\n\n\"The engines of the Fram occupy only half the size of our wardroom, the\npetrol tanks have not needed replenishment since they left Norway, and\ntheir propeller can be lifted by three men. They kept fresh potatoes from\nNorway to the Barrier. (Some of them must surely be renegade Irishmen.)\nThey have each a separate cabin 'tween-decks in the Fram, and are very\ncomfortable. They are using for transporting their stores to the hut,\neight teams of five dogs each, working every alternate day.\n\n\"They intend to use for the Polar Journey teams of ten dogs, each team\nworking one day out of two. Their dogs stop at a whistle, and if they\nmake a break they can be stopped by overturning the sledge, empty or full\nas the case may be. They are nine in the shore party and ten in the ship.\nTheir ship is going back to Buenos Ayres with Nilsen in charge and during\nthe winter is to encircle the world, sounding all the way.\n\n\"They are not starting on the dash South this year and do not yet know\nwhether they will lay depôts this year. They have 116 dogs and ten of\nthese are bitches, so that they can rear pups, and have done so very\nsuccessfully on the way out. The Fram acts like a cork in the sea; she\nrolls tremendously but does not ship water, and during the voyage they\nhave had the dogs running loose about the decks. There is a lot more\nmiscellaneous information, but I may remember it more coherently a little\nlater when the main impressions of the rencontre are a little more\nfaint.\"[119]\n\nIt will be seen that Priestley missed three points. First, he was left\nwith a conventional but very erroneous impression of Amundsen as a blunt\nNorwegian sailor, not in the least an intellectual. Second, he thought\nAmundsen had camped on the ice and not on terra firma. Third, he thought\nAmundsen was going to the Pole by the old route over the Beardmore. The\ntruth was that Amundsen was an explorer of the markedly intellectual\ntype, rather Jewish than Scandinavian, who had proved his sagacity by\ndiscovering solid footing for the winter by pure judgment. For the\nmoment, let it be confessed, we all underrated Amundsen, and could not\nshake off the feeling that he had stolen a march on us.\n\nBack to McMurdo Sound, and the news left at Hut Point. Then the two\nponies which had been allotted to Campbell were swum ashore at Cape\nEvans, since he thought that now they would be of more use to Scott than\nto himself. Subsequent events proved the extreme usefulness of this\nunselfish act. The Terra Nova would steam north and try and land\nCampbell's party on the extreme northern shores of Queen Victoria Land.\nAt the same time there was so little coal left that it might be necessary\nto go straight back to New Zealand. Campbell regretted not being able to\nsee Scott, supposing that the altered circumstances caused Scott to wish\nto rearrange his parties, and also because Amundsen had asked Campbell to\nland his party at the Bay of Whales, giving him the area to the east to\nexplore, and Campbell did not wish to accept before getting Scott's\npermission.\n\nAs we know now coal ran so short that it came to an alternative of\ndumping Campbell, his men and gear hastily on the beach at Cape Adare, or\ntaking them back to New Zealand. As one member of the crew said:\n\"Exploring is all very well in its way, but it is a thing which can be\nvery easily overdone.\" The ship was as ready to get rid of them as they\nwere to get rid of the ship. They were landed, working to their waists in\nthe surf, and the ship got safely back to New Zealand.\n\nScott decided that the period of waiting until the pony party arrived\nfrom One Ton should be employed in sledging stores out to Corner Camp.\nBut the dog-teams were done, \"the dogs are thin as rakes; they are\nravenous and very tired. I feel this should not be, and that it is\nevident that they are underfed. The ration must be increased next year\nand we must have some properly-thought-out diet. The biscuit alone is not\ngood enough.\"[120] In addition, several dogs were feeling the effects of\ninjuries due to the crevasse incident. There remained the men and the one\npony which had survived out of the three sent back from Bluff Depôt,\nnamely Jimmy Pigg.\n\nThe party started on Friday, February 24, marching by day. It consisted\nof Scott, Crean and myself with one sledge and tent, Lieutenant Evans,\nAtkinson and Forde with a second sledge and tent, and Keohane leading\nJames Pigg. On the second night out we saw the pony party pass us in the\ndistance on their way to Safety Camp.[121] At Corner Camp Scott decided\nto leave Lieutenant Evans' party to come in with the pony more slowly,\nand himself to push on with Crean and myself at top speed for Safety\nCamp. We made a forced march well into the night, doing twenty-six miles\nfor the day, and camped some ten miles from Safety Camp, where the pony\nparty must by this time have arrived.\n\nThe events which followed were disastrous, and the steps which led to a\ncatastrophe which entailed the loss of much of our best transport, and\nonly by a miracle did not lead to the loss of several lives, were\ncomplicated. At this moment, the night of February 26, there were three\nparties on the Barrier. Behind Scott was Lieutenant Evans' party and the\npony, James Pigg. Scott himself was camped within easy marching distance\nof Safety Camp with Crean and myself. At Safety Camp were the two\ndog-teams with Wilson and Meares, while the pony party from One Ton Depôt\nhad just arrived with five ponies which were for the most part thin,\nhungry and worn. Between Safety Camp and Hut Point lay the frozen sea,\nwhich might or might not break up this year, but we knew from our\nobservations a few days before that the ice was in a shaky condition. At\nthat time the ice sheet extended some seven miles to the north of Hut\nPoint. The season was fast closing in: temperatures of fifty or sixty\ndegrees of frost had been common for the last fortnight, and this was bad\nfor the ponies. We had been unfortunate in having several severe\nblizzards, and it was already clear that it was these autumn blizzards\nmore than cold temperatures and soft surfaces which the ponies could not\nendure. Scott was most anxious to get the animals into such shelter as we\ncould make for them at Hut Point.\n\nThe next morning, February 27, we woke to a regular cold autumn\nblizzard--very thick, wind force 9 and temperature about minus twenty.\nThis was disheartening, and indeed with our six worn ponies still on the\nBarrier the outlook for them was discouraging. The blizzard came to an\nend the next morning. Scott must take up the first part of that day's\nstory:\n\n\"Packed up at 6 A.M. and marched into Safety Camp. Found every one very\ncold and depressed. Wilson and Meares had had continuous bad weather\nsince we left, Bowers and Oates since their arrival. The blizzard had\nraged for two days. The animals looked in a sorry condition, but all were\nalive. The wind blew keen and cold from the east. There could be no\nadvantage in waiting here, and soon all arrangements were made for a\ngeneral shift to Hut Point. Packing took a long time. The snowfall had\nbeen prodigious, and parts of the sledges were 3 or 4 feet under drift.\nAbout 4 o'clock the two dog-teams got safely away. Then the pony party\nprepared to go. As the cloths were stript from the ponies the ravages of\nthe blizzard became evident. The animals, without exception, were\nterribly emaciated, and Weary Willie was in a pitiable condition.\n\n\"The plan was for the ponies to follow the dog tracks, our small party to\nstart last and get in front of the ponies on the sea-ice. I was very\nanxious about the sea-ice passage owing to the spread of the water\nholes.\"[122]\n\nThe two dog-teams left with Meares and Wilson some time before the\nponies, and for the moment they go out of this story.\n\nBowers' pony, Uncle Bill, was ready first, and he started with him. We\ngot three more ponies harnessed, Punch, Nobby and Guts, and tried to\nharness Weary Willie, but when we attempted to lead him forward he\nimmediately fell down.\n\nScott rapidly reorganized. He sent Crean and me forward with the three\nbetter ponies to join Bowers, now waiting a mile ahead. Oates and Gran he\nkept with himself, to try and help the sick pony. His diary tells how \"we\nmade desperate efforts to save the poor creature, got him once more on\nhis legs, gave him a hot oat mash. Then, after a wait of an hour, Oates\nled him off, and we packed the sledge and followed on ski; 500 yards from\nthe camp the poor creature fell again and I felt it was the last effort.\nWe camped, built a snow wall round him, and did all we possibly could to\nget him on his feet. Every effort was fruitless, though the poor thing\nmade pitiful struggles. Towards midnight we propped him up as\ncomfortably as we could and went to bed.\n\n\"Wednesday, March 1. A.M. Our pony died in the night. It is hard to have\ngot him back so far only for this. It is clear that these blizzards are\nterrible for the poor animals. Their coats are not good, but even with\nthe best of coats it is certain they would lose condition badly if caught\nin one, and we cannot afford to lose condition at the beginning of a\njourney. It makes a late start necessary for next year.\n\n\"Well, we have done our best and bought our experience at a heavy cost.\nNow every effort must be bent on saving the remaining animals.\"[123]\n\nA letter from Bowers home, which certainly does not overstate the\nadventures of himself and the two men sent forward to join him, is\nprobably the best description of the incidents which followed. It will be\nremembered that Crean and I with three ponies were sent from Safety Camp\nto join him: he was already leading one pony. Night was beginning to\nfall, and the light was bad, but from the edge of the Barrier the two\ndog-teams could still be seen as black dots in the distance towards Cape\nArmitage.\n\n\"On the night of February 28 I led off with my pony and was surprised at\nthe delay in the others leaving--knowing nothing of Weary's collapse.\nOver the edge of the Barrier I went, and at the bottom of the snow\nincline awaited the others. To my surprise Cherry and Crean appeared with\nPunch, Nobby and Guts in a string, and then I heard the reason for Oates\nand Scott not having come on. My orders were to push on to Hut Point over\nthe sea-ice without delay, and to follow the dogs; previously I had been\ntold to camp on the sea-ice only in case of the beasts being unable to go\non. We had four pretty heavy sledges, as we were taking six weeks' man\nfood and oil to the hut, as well as a lot of gear from the depôt, and\npony food, etc. Unfortunately the dogs misunderstood their orders and,\ninstead of piloting us, dashed off on their own. We saw them like specks\nin the distance in the direction of the old seal crack. Having crossed\nthis they wheeled to the right in the direction of Cape Armitage and\ndisappeared into a black indefinite mist, which seemed to pervade\neverything in that direction. We heard afterwards that in a mile or two\nthey came to some alarming signs and, turning, made for the Gap where\nthey got up on to the land about midnight.\n\n\"I plugged on in their tracks, till we came to the seal crack which was\nan old pressure-ridge running many miles S.W. from Pram Point. We\nconsidered the ice behind this crack--over which we had just come--fast\nice; it was older ice than that beyond, as it had undoubtedly frozen over\nfirst. Having crossed the crack we streaked on for Cape Armitage. The\nanimals were going badly, owing to the effects of the blizzard, and\nfrequent stoppages were necessary. On coming to some shaky ice we headed\nfarther west as there were always some bad places off the cape, and I\nthought it better to make a good circuit. Crean, who had been over the\nice recently, told me it was all right farther round. However, about a\nmile farther on I began to have misgivings; the cracks became too\nfrequent to be pleasant, and although the ice was from five to ten feet\nthick, one does not like to see water squelching between them, as we did\nlater. It spells motion, and motion on sea-ice means breakage. I shoved\non in the hope of getting on better ice round the cape, but at last came\na moving crack, and that decided me to turn back. We could see nothing\nowing to the black mist, everything looked solid as ever, but I knew\nenough to mistrust moving ice, however solid it seemed. It was a beastly\nmarch back: dark, gloomy and depressing. The beasts got more and more\ndown in their spirits and stopped so frequently that I thought we would\nnever reach the seal crack. I said to Cherry, however, that I would take\nno risks, and camp well over the other side on the old sound ice if we\ncould get there. This we managed to do eventually. Here there was soft\nsnow, whereas on the sea side of the crack it was hard: that is the\nreason we lost the dogs' tracks at once on crossing. Even over this crack\nI thought it best to march as far in as possible. We got well into the\nbay, as far as our exhausted ponies would drag, before I camped and\nthrew up the walls, fed the beasts, and retired to feed ourselves. We had\nonly the primus with the missing cap and it took over 1½ hours to heat up\nthe water; however, we had a cup of pemmican. It was very dark, and I\nmistook a small bag of curry powder for the cocoa bag, and made cocoa\nwith that, mixed with sugar; Crean drank his right down before\ndiscovering anything was wrong. It was 2 P.M. before we were ready to\nturn in. I went out and saw everything quiet: the mist still hung to the\nwest, but you could see a good mile and all was still. The sky was very\ndark over the Strait though, the unmistakable sign of open water. I\nturned in. Two and a half hours later I awoke, hearing a noise. Both my\ncompanions were snoring, I thought it was that and was on the point of\nturning in again having seen that it was only 4.30, when I heard the\nnoise again. I thought--'my pony is at the oats!' and went out.\n\n\"I cannot describe either the scene or my feelings. I must leave those to\nyour imagination. We were in the middle of a floating pack of broken-up\nice. The tops of the hills were visible, but all below was thin mist and\nas far as the eye could see there was nothing solid; it was all broken\nup, and heaving up and down with the swell. Long black tongues of water\nwere everywhere. The floe on which we were had split right under our\npicketing line, and cut poor Guts' wall in half. Guts himself had gone,\nand a dark streak of water alone showed the place where the ice had\nopened under him. The two sledges securing the other end of the line were\non the next floe and had been pulled right to the edge. Our camp was on a\nfloe not more than 30 yards across. I shouted to Cherry and Crean, and\nrushed out in my socks to save the two sledges; the two floes were\ntouching farther on and I dragged them to this place and got them on to\nour floe. At that moment our own floe split in two, but we were all\ntogether on one piece. I then got my finnesko on, remarking that we had\nbeen in a few tight places, but this was about the limit. I have been\ntold since that I was quixotic not to leave everything and make for\nsafety. You will understand, however, that I never for one moment\nconsidered the abandonment of anything.\n\n\"We packed up camp and harnessed up our ponies in remarkably quick time.\nWhen ready to move I had to decide which way to go. Obviously towards\nCape Armitage was impossible, and to the eastward also, as the wind was\nfrom that direction, and we were already floating west towards the open\nsound. Our only hope lay to the south, and thither I went. We found the\nponies would jump the intervals well. At least Punch would and the other\ntwo would follow him. My idea was never to separate, but to get\neverything on to one floe at a time; and then wait till it touched or\nnearly touched another in the right direction, and then jump the ponies\nover and drag the four sledges across ourselves. In this way we made\nslow, but sure progress. While one was acting all was well, the waiting\nfor a lead to close was the worst trial. Sometimes it would take 10\nminutes or more, but there was so much motion in the ice that sooner or\nlater bump you would go against another piece, and then it was up and\nover. Sometimes they split, sometimes they bounced back so quickly that\nonly one horse could get over, and then we had to wait again. We had to\nmake frequent detours and were moving west all the time with the pack,\nstill we were getting south, too.\n\n\"Very little was said. Crean like most bluejackets behaved as if he had\ndone this sort of thing often before. Cherry, the practical, after an\nhour or two dug out some chocolate and biscuit, during one of our\nenforced waits, and distributed it. I felt at that time that food was the\nlast thing on earth I wanted, and put it in my pocket; in less than half\nan hour, though, I had eaten the lot. The ponies behaved as well as my\ncompanions, and jumped the floes in great style. After getting them on a\nnew floe we simply left them, and there they stood chewing at each\nothers' head ropes or harness till we were over with the sledges and\nready to take them on again. Their implicit trust in us was touching to\nbehold. A 12-feet sledge makes an excellent bridge if an opening is too\nwide to jump. After some hours we saw fast ice ahead, and thanked God for\nit. Meanwhile a further unpleasantness occurred in the arrival of a host\nof the terrible 'killer' whales. These were reaping a harvest of seal in\nthe broken-up ice, and cruised among the floes with their immense black\nfins sticking up, and blowing with a terrific roar. The Killer is\nscientifically known as the Orca, and, though far smaller than the sperm\nand other large whales, is a much more dangerous animal. He is armed with\na huge iron jaw and great blunt socket teeth. Killers act in concert,\ntoo, and, as you may remember, nearly got Ponting when we were unloading\nthe ship, by pressing up the thin ice from beneath and splitting it in\nall directions.\n\n\"It took us over six hours to get close to the fast ice, which proved to\nbe the Barrier, some immense chunks of which we actually saw break off\nand join the pack. Close in, the motion was less owing to the jambing up\nof the ice somewhere farther west. We had only just cleared the Strait in\ntime though, as all the ice in the centre, released beyond Cape Armitage,\nheaded off into the middle of the Strait, and thence to the Ross Sea. Our\nspirits rose as we neared the Barrier edge, and I made for a big sloping\nfloe which I expected would be touching; at any rate I anticipated no\ndifficulty. We rushed up the slope towards safety, and were little\nprepared for the scene that met our eyes at the top. All along the\nBarrier face a broad lane of water from thirty to forty feet wide\nextended. This was filled with smashed-up brash ice, which was heaving up\nand down to the swell like the contents of a cauldron. Killers were\ncruising there with fiendish activity, and the Barrier edge was a sheer\ncliff of ice on the other side fifteen to twenty feet high. It was a case\nof so near and yet so far. Suddenly our great sloping floe calved in two,\nso we beat a hasty retreat. I selected a sound-looking floe just clear of\nthis turmoil, that was at least ten feet thick, and fairly rounded, with\na flat surface. Here we collected everything and having done all that man\ncould do, we fed the beasts and took counsel.\n\n\"Cherry and Crean both volunteered to do anything, in the spirit they had\nshown right through. It appeared of first necessity to communicate with\nCaptain Scott. I guessed his anxiety on our behalf, and, as we could do\nnothing more, we wanted help of some sort. It occurred to me that a man\nworking up to windward along the Barrier face might happen upon a floe\ntouching [the Barrier]. It was obviously impossible to take ponies up\nthere anywhere, but an active man might wait his opportunity. Going to\nwindward, too, he could always retreat on to our floe, as the ice was\nbeing pushed together in our direction. The next consideration was, whom\nto send. To go myself was out of the question. The problem was whether to\nsend one, or both, my companions. As my object was to save the animals\nand gear, it appeared to me that one man remaining would be helpless in\nthe event of the floe splitting up, as he would be busy saving himself. I\ntherefore decided to send one only. This would have to be Crean, as\nCherry, who wears glasses, could not see so well. Both volunteered, but\nas I say, I thought out all the pros and cons and sent Crean, knowing\nthat, at the worst, he could get back to us at any time. I sent a note to\nCaptain Scott, and, stuffing Crean's pockets with food, we saw him\ndepart.\n\n\"Practical Cherry suggested pitching the tent as a mark of our\nwhereabouts, and having done this I mounted the theodolite to watch Crean\nthrough the telescope. The rise and fall of the floe made this difficult,\nespecially as a number of Emperor penguins came up and looked just like\nmen in the distance. Fortunately the sunlight cleared the frost smoke,\nand as it fell calm our westerly motion began to decrease. The swell\nstarted to go down. Outside us in the centre of the Strait all the ice\nhad gone out, and open water remained. We were one of a line of loose\nfloes floating near the Barrier edge. Crean was hours moving to and fro\nbefore I had the satisfaction of seeing him up on the Barrier. I said:\n'Thank God one of us is out of the wood, anyhow.'\n\n\"It was not a pleasant day that Cherry and I spent all alone there,\nknowing as we did that it only wanted a zephyr from the south to send us\nirretrievably out to sea; still there is satisfaction in knowing that one\nhas done one's utmost, and I felt that having been delivered so\nwonderfully so far, the same Hand would not forsake us at the last.\n\n\"We gave the ponies all they could eat that day. The Killers were too\ninterested in us to be pleasant. They had a habit of bobbing up and down\nperpendicularly, so as to see over the edge of a floe, in looking for\nseals. The huge black and yellow heads with sickening pig eyes only a few\nyards from us at times, and always around us, are among the most\ndisconcerting recollections I have of that day. The immense fins were bad\nenough, but when they started a perpendicular dodge they were positively\nbeastly. As the day wore on skua gulls, looking upon us as certain\ncarrion, settled down comfortably near us to await developments. The\nswell, however, was getting less and less and it resolved itself into a\nquestion of speed, as to whether the wind or Captain Scott would reach us\nfirst.\n\n\"Crean had got up into the Barrier at great risks to himself as I\ngathered afterwards from his very modest account. He had reached Captain\nScott some time after his [Scott's] meeting with Wilson.[124] I heard\nthat at the time Captain Scott was very angry with me for not abandoning\neverything and getting away safely myself. For my own part I must say\nthat the abandoning of the ponies was the one thing that had never\nentered my head. It was a long way round, but at 7 P.M. he arrived at the\nedge of the Barrier opposite us with Oates and Crean. Everything was\nstill, and Cherry and I could have got on safe ice at any time during the\nlast half hour by using the sledge as a ladder. A big overturned fragment\nhad jambed in the lane, between a high floe and the Barrier edge, and,\nthere being no wind, it remained there. However, there was the\nconsideration of the ponies, so we waited.\n\n\"Scott, instead of blowing me up, was too relieved at our safety to be\nanything but pleased. I said: 'What about the ponies and the sledges?' He\nsaid: 'I don't care a damn about the ponies and sledges. It's you I want,\nand I am going to see you safe here up on the Barrier before I do\nanything else.' Cherry and I had got everything ready, so, dragging up\ntwo sledges, we dumped the gear off them, and using them as ladders, one\ndown from the berg on to the buffer piece of ice, and the other up to the\ntop of the Barrier, we got up without difficulty. Captain Scott was so\npleased, that I realized the feeling he must have had all day. He had\nbeen blaming himself for our deaths, and here we were very much alive. He\nsaid: 'My dear chaps, you can't think how glad I am to see you\nsafe--Cherry likewise.'\n\n\"I was all for saving the beasts and sledges, however, so he let us go\nback and haul the sledges on to the nearest floe. We did this one by one\nand brought the ponies along, while Titus dug down a slope from the\nBarrier edge in the hope of getting the ponies up it. Scott knew more\nabout ice than any of us, and realizing the danger we didn't, still\nwanted to abandon things. I fought for my point tooth and nail, and got\nhim to concede one article and then another, and still the ice did not\nmove till we had thrown and hauled up every article on to the Barrier\nexcept the two ladders and the ponies.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\"To my intense disappointment at this juncture the ice started to move\nagain. Titus had been digging down a road in the Barrier edge, and I\nhoped to dig down a similar slope from the floe, the snow thus shovelled\ndown would go over the blue ice chunk, cover up the slippery ice and\nlevel it up. It would have taken hours, but was the only chance of\ngetting the animals up. We dug like fury until Captain Scott peremptorily\nordered us up. I ran up on the floe and took the nosebags off the ponies\nbefore we got on to the Barrier, and hauled the sledges up. It was only\njust in time. There was the faintest south-easterly air, but, like a\nblack snake, the lane of water stretched between the ponies and\nourselves. It widened almost imperceptibly, 2 feet, 6 feet, 10 feet, 20\nfeet, and, sick as we were about the ponies, we were glad to be on the\nsafe side of that.\n\n\"We dragged the sledges in a little way, and, leaving them, pitched the\ntwo tents half a mile farther in, for bits of the Barrier were\ncontinually calving. While supper (it was about 3 A.M.) was being cooked,\nScott and I walked down again. The wind had gone to the east, and all the\nice was under weigh. A lane 70 feet wide extended along the Barrier edge,\nand Killers were chasing up and down it like racehorses. Our three\nunfortunate beasts were some way out, sailing parallel to the Barrier. We\nreturned, and if ever one could feel miserable I did then. My feelings\nwere nothing to what poor Captain Scott had had to endure that day. I at\nonce broached the hopeful side of the subject, remarking that, with the\ntwo Campbell had left, we had ten ponies at Winter quarters. He said,\nhowever, that he had no confidence whatever in the motors after the way\ntheir rollers had become messed up unloading the ship. He had had his\nconfidence in the dogs much shaken on the return journey, and now he had\nlost the most solid asset--the best of his pony transport. He said: 'Of\ncourse we shall have a run for our money next season, but as far as the\nPole is concerned I have but very little hope.' We had a mournful meal,\nbut after the others turned in I went down again, and by striking across\ndiagonally came abreast of the ponies' floe, over a mile away. They were\nmoving west fast, but they saw me, and remained huddled together not the\nleast disturbed, or doubting that we would bring them their breakfast\nnosebags as usual in the morning. Poor trustful creatures! If I could\nhave done it then, I would gladly have killed them rather than picture\nthem starving on that floe out on the Ross Sea, or eaten by the exultant\nKillers that cruised around.\n\n\"After breakfast Captain Scott sent me to bring up the sledges. It was\ndead calm again. Hope always springs, so I took his pair of glasses and\nlooked west from the Barrier edge. Nearly all the ice had gone, but a\nmedley of floes had been hurled up against a long point of Barrier much\nfarther west. To my delight I saw three green specks on one of these--the\npony rugs--and all four of us legged it back to the tent to tell Captain\nScott. We were soon off over the Barrier. It was a long way, but we had a\ntent and some food. Crean had a bad day of snow-blindness, and could see\nabsolutely nothing. So, on arrival at the place, we pitched the tent and\nleft him there. The ponies were in a much worse place than the day\nbefore, but the ice was still there, and some floes actually touched the\nBarrier.\n\n\"After our recent experience Captain Scott would only let us go on\ncondition that as soon as he gave the order we were to drop everything\nand run for the Barrier. I was in a feverish hurry, and with Titus and\nCherry selected a possible route over about six floes, and some low brash\nice. The hardest jump was the first one, but it was nothing to what they\nhad done the day before, so we put Punch at it. Why he hung fire I cannot\nthink,[125] but he did, at the very edge, and the next moment was in the\nwater. I will draw a veil over our struggle to get the plucky little pony\nout. We could not manage it, and Titus had at last to put an end to his\nstruggles with a pick.\n\n\"There was now my pony and Nobby. We abandoned that route, while Captain\nScott looked out another and longer one by going right out on the\nsea-floes. This we decided on, if we could get the animals off their\npresent floe, which necessitated a good jump on any side. Captain Scott\nsaid he would have no repetition of Punch's misfortune if he could help\nit. He would rather kill them on the floe. Anyhow, we rushed old Nobby at\nthe jump, but he refused. It seemed no good, but I rushed him at it again\nand again. Scott was for killing them [it should be remembered that this\nice, with the men on it, might drift away from the Barrier at any moment,\nand then there might be no further chance of saving the men] but I was\nnot, and, pretending not to hear him, I rushed the old beast again. He\ncleared it beautifully, and Titus, seizing the opportunity, ran my pony\nat it with similar success. We then returned to the Barrier and worked\nalong westward till a suitable place for getting up was found. There\nScott and Cherry started digging a road, while Titus and I went out via\nthe sea-ice to get the ponies. We had an empty sledge as a bridge or\nladder, in case of emergency, and had to negotiate about forty floes to\nreach the animals. It was pretty easy going, though, and we brought them\nalong with great success as far as the two nearest floes. At this place\nthe ice was jambed.\n\n\"Nobby cleared the last jump splendidly, when suddenly in the open water\npond on one side a school of over a dozen of the terrible whales arose.\nThis must have flurried my horse just as he was jumping, as instead of\ngoing straight he jumped [sideways] and just missed the floe with his\nhind legs. It was another horrible situation, but Scott rushed Nobby up\non the Barrier, while Titus, Cherry and I struggled with poor old Uncle\nBill. Why the whales did not come under the ice and attack him I cannot\nsay--perhaps they were full of seal, perhaps they were so engaged in\nlooking at us on the top of the floe that they forgot to look below;\nanyhow, we got him safely as far as [the bottom of the Barrier cliff],\npulling him through the thin ice towards a low patch of brash.\n\n\"Captain Scott was afraid of something happening to us with those\ndevilish whales so close, and was for abandoning the horse right away. I\nhad no eyes or ears for anything but the horse just then, and getting on\nto the thin brash ice got the Alpine rope fast to each of the pony's\nforefeet. Crean was too blind to do anything but hold the rescued horse\non the Barrier, but the other four of us pulled might and main till we\ngot the old horse out and lying on his side. The brash ice was so thin\nthat, had a 'Killer' come up then he would have scattered it, and the lot\nof us into the water like chaff. I was sick with disappointment when I\nfound that my horse could not rise. Titus said: 'He's done; we shall\nnever get him up alive.' The cold water and shock on top of all his\nrecent troubles, had been too much for the undefeated old sportsman. In\nvain I tried to get him to his feet; three times he tried and then fell\nover backwards into the water again. At that moment a new danger arose.\nThe whole piece of Barrier itself started to subside.\n\n\"It had evidently been broken before, and the tide was doing the rest. We\nwere ordered up and it certainly was all too necessary; still Titus and I\nhung over the old Uncle Bill's head. I said: 'I can't leave him to be\neaten alive by those whales.' There was a pick lying up on the floe.\nTitus said: 'I shall be sick if I have to kill another horse like I did\nthe last.' I had no intention that anybody should kill my own horse but\nmyself, and getting the pick I struck where Titus told me. I made sure of\nmy job before we ran up and jumped the opening in the Barrier, carrying a\nblood-stained pick-axe instead of leading the pony I had almost\nconsidered safe.\n\n\"We returned to our old camp that night (March 2) with Nobby, the only\none saved of the five that left One Ton Depôt. I was fearfully cut up\nabout my pony and Punch, but it was better than last night; we knew they\nwould not have to starve and that all their troubles were now at an end.\nBefore supper I went for a walk along the Barrier with Scott, and the\nnext day we started back. We left one tent, two sledges and a lot of gear\nas Nobby could only pull two light sledges, and we could not pull an\nexcessive weight on that bad surface. As it was we had over 800 lbs. on\nthe sledge when we left. It was a glaring day with the surface soft and\nsandy, a combination of unpleasant circumstances. It took five hours to\ndrag as far as the place we had originally gone down on to the sea-ice\nfrom the Barrier.\n\n\"Evans and his party should now have arrived from Corner Camp, and as\nCaptain Scott wanted to see if they had left a note at Safety Camp, I\nwalked up there while the tea was being brewed. It was about 1¼ miles\naway, and I found traces of the party in the snow, but no note. It fed me\nup to see the walls so recently occupied by our ponies, and I was glad to\nleave. The afternoon march was interminable; it seemed as if we would\nnever reach the coast. At last we came to the Pram Point Pressure Ridges\nwhere the Barrier joins the peninsula to eastward of Cape Armitage. They\nare waves of ice up to 20 feet in height running along parallel to each\nother with a valley in between each, and are only crevassed badly at the\nouter end as far as we have seen, though there are smaller crevasses\nright along. We camped in one of these valleys about 9.30 P.M.; I was\nthoroughly tired, so I think was everybody else. We were about a mile\nfrom the ice edge; and the problem was where to get Nobby up the\nprecipitous slopes. This was solved by the arrival of Evans, Atkinson,\nForde and Keohane about midnight. They had seen us coming in from the\nheights, and had come down for news. Teddy Evans had arrived the day\nbefore, and, being warned off the Barrier edge by a note left by Captain\nScott, had made for the land with his party, and one horse Jimmy Pigg. He\nhad found a good way up a mile or so farther east, almost under Castle\nRock. He had walked to Hut Point with Atkinson the next day and heard of\nthe loss of Cherry, myself and the animals from Bill Wilson and Meares\nwho had been left there to look after their teams. I hadn't seen Atkinson\nfor quite a while when we met this time.\n\n\"The next day we relayed the sledges up the slope which was about 700\nfeet high rising from a small bay. It was so steep that the pony could\nonly be led up and we had to put on crampons to grip the ice. These are\nmerely a sole of leather with light metal plates for foot and heel\ncontaining spikes. [These were altered afterwards.] They have leather\nbeckets and a lanyard rove off for making them fast over the finnesko. It\ntook us all the morning to get everything up to the top and then it\nstarted to blow. The camp was wonderfully sheltered. Jimmy Pigg and Nobby\nwere reunited after many weeks, and to show their friendliness the former\nbit the latter in the back of the neck as a first introduction. Atkinson\nhad gone to Hut Point to reassure Uncle Bill as to our safety and arrived\nagain with Gran just as we got the last load up. There was no sugar at\nthe hut except what the dogs had brought in, so Gran, who was quite\nfresh, volunteered to get a couple of bags from the depôt at Safety Camp,\nwhich could plainly be seen out on the Barrier. We all went to the edge\nof the slope to see him go down it on ski. He did it splendidly and must\nhave been going with the speed of an express train down the incline, as\nhe was on the Barrier in an incredibly short time compared to the hours\nwe had dragged up the same slope with the loads. Teddy, Titus and Keohane\nwere left at the camp to be joined by Gran later. Scott started off for\nHut Point with Crean and Cherry on his sledge, while I followed with\nForde and Atkinson. The others helped us up several hundred feet of slope\nand left us under Castle Rock.\n\n\"It was here that they mistook their way in the blizzard and lost a man\nfrom the Discovery. Though it was fine below it was blowing like anything\non the heights. I was too busily occupied to see much of the hills and\nsnow-slopes which I got to know so well later. It was about three miles\ndirect to the hut, but very up and down hill. At the last, however, you\nsee the Bay in panorama with Cape Armitage on one side, and Hut Point on\nthe other, where the Discovery lay two whole years. It is a magnificent\nview from the heights and for wild desolate grandeur would take some\nbeating; the Western Mountains and the great dome of Mount Discovery\nacross the black strait of water, covered with dark frost smoke, and here\nand there an iceberg driving fast towards the sea. About half a mile\nbelow us was the little hut and, on the left, the 800-feet pyramid of\nObservation Hill. It is a perfect chaos of hills and extinct craters just\nhere.\n\n\"It was blowing like fun. We left one sledge on the top of ski-slope and\njust took what was necessary on the other, such as our bags, etc. It was\nmy first experience of steep downhill sledging. Instead of anybody\npulling forward we all had to hang back and guide the sledge down the\nslippery incline without letting it take charge or getting upset. It is\ngreat fun. On reaching the head of the Bay, however, we had quite a\ndangerous little bit to cross. Here it was swept of snow and there was\nnothing but glassy ice and the incline ended in a low ice-cliff with the\nwater below it. Attached as we were to the sledge we should have been at\na disadvantage had it come to swimming, which a slip might easily have\nbrought about. We scratched carefully across this and then headed down on\nthe snow, arriving at the hut all well. The old hut had changed\ntremendously since I last saw it, having been dug out and cleared of snow\nand ice. Two unrecognizable sweeps greeted us heartily, they were Bill\nand Meares; the dogs howled a chorus for our benefit; it was quite like\ncoming home. Inside the hut, the cause of the blackness was apparent,\nthey had a blubber fire going, an open one, with no chimney or uptake for\nthe smoke. After such a long open-air life it fairly choked me, and for\nonce I could not eat a square meal. We all slept in a row against the\nwest wall of the hut with our feet inboard.\n\n\"The next morning Captain Scott, Bill, Cherry and I set out to walk to\nCastle Rock and meet the other party. It was fairly fizzing from the sea,\nbut clear. Once up on the Heights, however, we seemed to get less wind. A\ncouple of hours later we were at the great rock, Castle Rock, which is\none of the best landmarks about here. The party in the Saddle Camp had\nrelayed two of the sledges up the slope; these we hauled on to the top\nwhile the two ponies were harnessed and brought up. There were three\nsledges left to take on altogether, so the ponies took one each and we\nthe other. Meanwhile Captain Scott walked over the shoulder under Castle\nRock to see down the Strait and came back with the intelligence that he\ncould hardly believe his eyes, but half the Glacier Tongue had broken off\nand disappeared. This great Tongue of ice had stood there on arrival of\nthe Discovery, ten years before, and had remained ever since; it had a\ndepôt of Shackleton's on it, and Campbell had depôted his fodder on it\nfor us. On the eventful night of the break-up of the ice at least three\nmiles of the Tongue which had been considered practically terra firma had\ngone, after having been there probably for centuries. We headed for the\nhut: Bill had looked out a route for the ponies, to avoid slippery\nplaces. It started to bliz, but was not too thick for us to see our\nbearings. At the top of Ski Slope the ponies were taken out of the\nsledges and led down a circuitous route over the rocks. The rest of us\nput everything we wanted on one sledge and leaving the others up there\nwent down the slope as before. The two ponies arrived before us and were\nstabled in the verandah.\n\n\"That night for the first time since the establishment of Safety Camp the\ndepôt party were all together again, minus six ponies. In concluding my\nreport to Captain Scott on the 'floe' incident, which he asked me to set\ndown long afterwards, I said, 'In reconsidering the foregoing I have come\nto the conclusion that I underestimated the danger signs on the sea-ice\non February 28, and on the following day might have attached more\nimportance to the safety of my companions. As it was, however, all\ncircumstances seemed to conspire together to make the situation\nunavoidable.' I did not forget to mention the splendid behaviour of\nCherry and Crean, and, for my own part, I have no regrets. I took the\nblame for my lack of experience, but knew that having done everything I\ncould do, it did not concern me if anybody liked to criticize my action.\nMy own opinion is that it just had to be, the circumstances leading to it\nwere too devious for mere coincidence. Six hours earlier we could have\nwalked to the hut on sound sea-ice. A few hours later we should have seen\nopen water on arrival at the Barrier edge. The blizzard that knocked out\nthe beasts, the death of Weary, the misunderstanding of the dogs,\neverything, fitted in to place us on the sea-ice during the only two\nhours of the whole year that we could possibly have been in such a\nposition. Let those who believe in coincidence carry on believing. Nobody\nwill ever convince me that there was not something more. Perhaps in the\nlight of next year we shall see what was meant by such an apparent blow\nto our hopes. Certainly we shall start for the Pole with less of that\nfoolish spirit of blatant boast and ridiculous blind self-assurance, that\ncharacterized some of us on leaving Cardiff.\n\n\"Poor Captain Scott had now a new anxiety thrust upon him. The Winter\nStation with ponies, stores and motors was all situated on a low beach\nnot twenty yards from the water's edge, and now that the ice had gone out\n(and the hut was not six feet above sea-level at the floor) how had they\nfared in the storm? This was a problem we could not solve without going\nto see. Cape Evans, though dimly in sight, was as far off as New Zealand\ntill the sea froze over. The idea of attempting the shoulder of Erebus\ndid occur to Captain Scott, but it was so heavily crevassed as to make a\njourney from our side almost impossible. On the other side Professor\nDavid's party got up to the Summit without finding a crevasse. Captain\nScott took his reverses like a brick. I often went out for a walk with\nhim and sometimes he discussed his plans for next season. He took his\nlosses very philosophically and never blamed any of us.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nThis is the end of that part of Bowers' letter which deals with the\nincident. Crean told me afterwards how he got on to the Barrier. He first\nmade for the Gap, following the best path of the ice, but then had to\nretrace his steps and make for White Island jumping from floe to floe.\nBut then \"I was pretty lively,\" said he: and \"there were lots of penguins\nand seals and killers knocking round that day.\"\n\nCrean had one of the ski sticks and that \"was a great help to me for\ngetting over the floes. It was a sloping piece like what you were on and\nit was very near touching the Barrier, in one corner of it only. Well, I\ndug a hole with the ski stick in the side of the Barrier for a step for\none foot, and when I finished the hole I straddled my legs and got one on\nthe floe and one in the side of the Barrier. Then I got the stick and dug\nit in on top and I gave myself a bit of a spring and got my outside leg\nup top. It was a terrible place but I thought it was the only chance.\n\n\"I made straight for Safety Camp and they must have spotted me: for I\nthink it was Gran that met me on skis. Then Scott and Wilson and Oates\nmet me a long way out: I explained how it happened. He was\nworried-looking a bit, but he never said anything out of the way. He told\nOates to go inside and light the primus and give me a meal.\"\n\nA more detailed account of the behaviour of the hundreds of whales which\ninfested the lanes of open water between the broken floes and calved\nbergs is of interest. Most of them at any rate were Killer whales (Orca\ngladiator), and they were cruising about in great numbers, snorting and\nblowing, while occasionally they would in some extraordinary way raise\nthemselves and look about over the ice, resting the fore part of their\nenormous yellow and black bodies on the edge of the floes. They were\nundisguisedly interested in us and the ponies, and we felt that if we\nonce got into the water our ends would be swift and bloody.\n\nBut I have a very distinct recollection that the whales were not all\nKillers, and that some, at any rate, were Bottle-nosed whales. This was\nimpressed upon me by one of the most dramatic moments of that night and\nday.\n\nWe made our way very slowly, sometimes waiting twenty minutes for the\nfloe on which we were to touch the next one in the direction we were\ntrying to go, but before us in the distance was a region of sea-ice which\nappeared to slope gradually up on to the fast Barrier beyond. As we got\nnearer we saw a dark line appear at intervals between the two. This we\nconsidered was a crevasse at the edge of the Barrier which was opening\nand shutting with the very big swell which was running, and on which all\nthe floes were bobbing up and down. We told one another that we could\nrush the ponies over this as it closed.\n\nWe approached the Barrier and began to rise up on the sloping floes which\nhad edged the Barrier and so on to small bergs which had calved from the\nBarrier itself. Leaving Crean with the ponies, Bowers and I went forward\nto prospect, and rose on to a berg from which we hoped to reach the\nBarrier.\n\nI can never forget the scene that met us. Between us and the Barrier was\na lane of some fifty yards wide, a seething cauldron. Bergs were calving\noff as we watched: and capsizing: and hitting other bergs, splitting into\ntwo and falling apart. The Killers filled the whole place. Looking\ndownwards into a hole between our berg and the next, a hole not bigger\nthan a small room, we saw at least six whales. They were so crowded that\nthey could only lie so as to get their snouts out of the water, and my\nmemory is that their snouts were bottle-nosed. At this moment our berg\nsplit into two parts and we hastily retreated to the lower and safer\nfloes.\n\nNow in the Zoological Report of the Discovery Expedition Wilson states\nthat the true identity of the Bottle-nosed whale (Hyperoodon rostrata) in\nAntarctic Seas has not been conclusively established. But that inasmuch\nas it certainly frequents seas so far as 48° S. latitude it is probable\nthat certain whales which he and other members of that expedition saw\nfrequenting the edge of the ice were, as they appeared to be,\nBottle-nosed whales. For my part, without great knowledge of whales, I am\nconvinced that these whales which lay but twenty feet below us were\nwhales of this species.\n\nAfter our rescue by Scott we pitched our tents, as has been described, at\nleast half a mile from the fast edge of the Barrier. All night long, or\nas it really was, early morning, the Killers were snorting and blowing\nunder the Barrier, and sometimes, it seemed, under our tents. Time and\nagain some member of the party went out of the tent to see if the Barrier\nhad not broken farther back, but there was no visible change, and it must\nhave been that the apparently solid ice on which we were, was split up by\ncrevasses by the big swell which had been running, and that round us,\nhidden by snow bridges, were leads of water in which whales were cruising\nin search of seal.\n\nThe next day most of the ice had gone out to sea, and I do not think the\nwhales were so numerous. The most noticeable thing about them that day\nwas the organization shown by the band of whales which appeared after\nBowers' pony, Uncle Bill, had fallen between two floes, and we were\ntrying to get him towards the Barrier. \"Good God, look at the whales,\"\nsaid some one, and there, in a pool of water behind the floe on which we\nwere working, lay twelve great whales in perfect line, facing the floe.\nAnd out in front of them, like the captain of a company of soldiers, was\nanother. As we turned they dived as one whale, led by the big fellow in\nfront, and we certainly expected that they would attack the floe on which\nwe stood. Whether they never did so, or whether they tried and failed,\nfor the floes here were fifteen or sixteen feet thick, I do not know; we\nnever saw them again.\n\nOne other incident of those days is worth recalling. \"Cherry, Crean,\nwe're floating out to sea,\" was the startling awakening from Bowers,\nstanding in his socks outside the tent at 4.30 A.M. that Wednesday\nmorning. And indeed at first sight on getting outside the tent it looked\na quite hopeless situation. I thought it was madness to try and save the\nponies and gear when, it seemed, the only chance at all of saving the men\nwas an immediate rush for the Barrier, and I said so. \"Well, I'm going to\ntry,\" was Bowers' answer, and, quixotic or no, he largely succeeded. I\nnever knew a man who treated difficulties with such scorn.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere must be some of my companions who look back upon Hut Point with a\npeculiar fondness, such as men get for places where they have experienced\ngreat joys and great trials. And Hut Point has an atmosphere of its own.\nI do not know what it is. Partly aesthetic, for the sea and great\nmountains, and the glorious colour effects which prevail in spring and\nautumn, would fascinate the least imaginative; partly mysterious, with\nthe Great Barrier knocking at your door, and the smoke of Erebus by day\nand the curtain of Aurora by night; partly the associations of the\nplace--the old hut, the old landmarks, so familiar to those who know the\nhistory of the Discovery Expedition, the stakes in the snow, the holes\nfor which ice was dug to water the ship, Vince's Cross on the Point. Now\nthere is another Cross, on Observation Hill.\n\nAnd yet when we first arrived the hut was comfortless enough. Wilson and\nMeares and Gran had been there some days; they had found some old bricks\nand a grid, and there was an open blubber fire in the middle of the\nfloor. There was no outlet for the smoke and smuts and it was impossible\nto see your neighbour, to speak without coughing, or to open your eyes\nlong before they began to smart. Atkinson and Crean had cleared the floor\nof ice in our absence, but the space between the lower and upper roofs\nwas solid with blue ice, and the lower roof sagged down in places in a\ndangerous way. The wind howled continuously and to say that the hut was\ncold is a very mild expression of the reality.\n\nThis hut was built by the Discovery Expedition, who themselves lived in\nthe ship which lay off the shore frozen into the sea-ice, as a workroom\nand as a refuge in case of shipwreck. It was useful to them in some ways,\nbut was too large to heat with the amount of coal available, and was\nrather a white elephant. Scott wrote of it that \"on the whole our large\nhut has been and will be of use to us, but its uses are never likely to\nbe of such importance as to render it indispensable, nor cause it to be\nsaid that circumstances have justified the outlay made on it, or the\nexpenditure of space and trouble in bringing it to its final home. It is\nhere now, however, and here it will stand for many a long year with such\nsupplies as will afford the necessaries of life to any less fortunate\nparty who may follow in our footsteps and be forced to search for food\nand shelter.\"[126]\n\nWell! It was to be more useful to Scott in 1910 to 1913 than he imagined\nin 1902. We found the place with its verandah complete, the remains of\nthe two magnetic huts and a rubbish heap. It was wonderful what that\nrubbish heap yielded up. Bricks to build a blubber stove, a sheet of iron\nto put over the top of it, a length of stove piping to form a chimney.\nSomehow somebody made cement, and built the bricks together, and one of\nthe magnetic huts gave up its asbestos sheeting to insulate the chimney\nfrom the woodwork of the roofs. An old door made a cook's table, old\ncases turned upside down made seats. The provisions left by the Discovery\nwere biscuits contained in some forty large packing cases. These we piled\nup across the middle of our house as a bulkhead and the old Discovery\nwinter awning was dug out of the snow outside and fixed against the wall\nthus made to keep the warmth in. At night we cleared the floor space and\nspread our bags.\n\n[Illustration: HUT POINT FROM OBSERVATION HILL]\n\nThe two precious survivors of the eight ponies with which we started on\nour journey were housed in the verandah, which was made wind-proof and\nsnow-proof. The more truculent dogs lay tethered outside, the more docile\nwere allowed their freedom, but even so the dog fights were not\ninfrequent. We had one poor little dog, Makaka by name. When unloading\nthe ship this dog had been overrun by the sledge which he was helping to\npull; he suffered again when the team of dogs fell down the crevasse, and\nwas now partially paralysed. He was a wretched object, for the hair\nrefused to grow on his hind quarters, but he was a real sportsman and had\nno idea of giving in. Meares and I went out one night when it was blowing\nhard, attracted by the cries of a dog. It was Makaka who had ventured to\nclimb a steep slope and was now afraid to return. When the dogs finally\nreturned to Cape Evans, Makaka was allowed to run by the side of the\nteam; but when Cape Evans was reached he was gone. Search failed to find\nhim and, after some weeks, hope of him was abandoned. But a month\nafterwards Gran and Debenham went over to Hut Point, and here at the\nentrance of the hut they found Makaka, pitifully weak but able to bark to\nthem. He must have lived on seal, but how he did so in that condition is\na mystery.\n\nThe reader may ask how it was that being so near our Winter Quarters at\nCape Evans we were unable to reach them immediately. Cape Evans is\nfifteen miles across the sea from Hut Point, and though both huts are on\nthe same island--Hut Point being at the end of a peninsula and Cape Evans\non the remains of a flow of lava which juts out into the sea--the land\nwhich joins the two has never yet been crossed by a sledge party owing to\nthe great ice falls which cover the slopes of Erebus. A glance at the map\nwill show that although Hut Point is surrounded with sea, or sea-ice, on\nevery side except that of Arrival Heights, the Barrier abuts upon the Hut\nPoint Peninsula to the south beyond Pram Point. Thus there is always\ncommunication with the Barrier by a devious route by which indeed we had\njust arrived, but farther progress north is cut off until the cold\ntemperature of the autumn and winter causes the open sea to freeze. We\narrived at Hut Point on March 5 and Scott expected to be able to cross on\nthe newly-frozen ice by about March 21. However, it was nearly a month\nafter that when the first party could pass to Cape Evans, and then only\nthe Bays were frozen and the Sound was still open water, owing to the\nwinds which swept the ice out to sea almost as soon as it was formed.\n\nOn the top of all the anxieties which had oppressed him lately Scott had\na great fear that a swell so phenomenal as to break up Glacier Tongue, a\nlandmark which had probably been there for centuries, might have swept\naway our hut at Cape Evans. He was so alarmed about it that he told\nWilson and myself to prepare to form a sledging party with him to\npenetrate the Erebus icefalls and reach Cape Evans. \"Went yesterday to\nCastle Rock with Wilson to see what chance there might be of getting to\nCape Evans. The day was bright and it was quite warm walking in the sun.\nThere is no doubt the route to Cape Evans lies over the worst corner of\nErebus. From this distance (some 7 or 8 miles at least) the whole\nmountain side looks a mass of crevasses, but a route might be found at a\nlevel of 3000 or 4000 feet.\"[127] After some days the project was\nabandoned as being hopeless.\n\nOn March 8 Bowers led a party to bring in the gear and provisions which\nhad been left at Disaster Camp, the material, that is, which had been\nrescued from the sea-ice. They were away three days and found the pulling\nvery hard. \"At the corner of the bay the Barrier was buckled into round\nridges which took a couple of hours to cross. We marched for some time\nalongside an enormous crevasse, which lay like a street near us. I\nexamined it at one point which must have been 15 feet wide, and though it\nwas impossible to see the bottom for snow cornices it was undoubtedly\nopen as I could hear a seal blowing below.\"[128]\n\nBowers' letter describes them dragging their heavy load up the slope to\nCastle Rock: \"It took us all the morning to reach Saddle Camp with the\nloads in two journeys. I found a steady plod up a steep hill without\nspells is better and less exhausting than a rush and a number of rests.\nThis theory I put into practice with great success. I don't know whether\neverybody saw eye to eye with me over the idea of getting to the top\nwithout a spell. After the second sledge was up Atkinson said: 'I don't\nmind you as a rule, but there are times when I positively hate you.'\"\n\nDefoe could have written another Robinson Crusoe with Hut Point instead\nof San Juan Fernandez. Our sledging supplies were mostly exhausted and we\ndepended upon the seals we could kill for food, fuel and light. We were\nsmutty as sweeps from the blubber we burned; and a more\nblackguard-looking crew would have been hard to find. We spent our fine\ndays killing, cutting up and carrying in seal when we could find them, or\nclimbing the various interesting hills and craters which abound here, and\nour evenings in long discussions which seldom settled anything. Some\nlooked after dogs, and others after ponies; some made geological\ncollections; others sketched the wonderful sunsets; but before and above\nall we ate and slept. We must have spent a good twelve hours asleep in\nour bags every day after our six weeks' sledging. And we rested. Perhaps\nthis is not everybody's notion of a very good time, but it was good\nenough for us.\n\nThe Weddell seal which frequents the seas which fringe the Antarctic\ncontinent was a standby for most of our wants; for he can at a pinch\nprovide not only meat to eat, fuel for your fire and oil for your lamp,\nbut also leather for your finnesko and an antidote to scurvy. As he lies\nout on the sea-ice, a great ungainly shape, nothing short of an actual\nprod will persuade him to take much notice of an Antarctic explorer. Even\nthen he is as likely as not to yawn in your face and go to sleep again.\nHis instincts are all to avoid the water when alarmed, for he knows his\nenemies the killer whales live there: but if you drive him into the water\nhe is transformed in the twinkling of an eye into a thing of beauty and\ngrace, which can travel and turn with extreme celerity and which can\nsuccessfully chase the fish on which he feeds.\n\nWe were lucky now in that a small bay of sea-ice, about an acre in\nextent, still remained within two miles of us at a corner where Barrier,\nsea, and land meet, called Pram Point by Scott in the Discovery days.\n\nNow Pram Point during the summer months is one of the most populous seal\nnurseries in McMurdo Sound. In this neighbourhood the Barrier, moving\nslowly towards the Peninsula, buckles the sea-ice into pressure ridges.\nAs the trough of each ridge is forced downwards, so in summer pools of\nsea water are formed in which the seal make their holes and among these\nridges they lie and bask in the sun: the males fight their battles, the\nfemales bring forth their young: the children play and chase their tails\njust like kittens. Now that the sea-ice had broken up, many seal were to\nbe found in this sheltered corner under the green and blue ice-cliffs of\nCrater Hill.\n\nIf you go seal killing you want a big stick, a bayonet, a flensing knife\nand a steel. Any big stick will do, so long as it will hit the seal a\nheavy blow on the nose: this stuns him and afterwards mercifully he feels\nno more. The bayonet knife (which should be fitted into a handle with a\ncross-piece to prevent the slipping of the hand down on to the blade)\nshould be at least 14 inches long without the handle; this is used to\nreach the seal's heart. Our flensing knives were one foot long including\nthe handle, the blades were seven inches long by 1¼ inches broad: some\nwere pointed and others round and I do not know which was best. The\nhandles should be of wood as being warmer to hold.\n\nKilling and cutting up seals is a gruesome but very necessary business,\nand the provision of suitable implements is humane as well as economic in\ntime and labour. The skin is first cut off with the blubber attached: the\nmeat is then cut from the skeleton, the entrails cleaned out, the liver\ncarefully excised. The whole is then left to freeze in pieces on the\nsnow, which are afterwards collected as rock-like lumps. The carcass can\nbe cut up with an axe when needed and fed to the dogs. Nothing except\nentrails was wasted.\n\n[Illustration: SEALS]\n\n[Illustration: SEALS]\n\n[Illustration: FROM THE SEA--E. A. Wilson, del.]\n\n[Illustration: FROM THE SEA--E. A. Wilson, del.]\n\nLighting was literally a burning question. I do not know that any lamp\nwas better than a tin matchbox fed with blubber, with strands of lamp\nwick sticking up in it, but all kinds of patterns big and small were made\nby proud inventors; they generally gave some light, though not a\nbrilliant one. There were more ambitious attempts than blubber. The worst\nof these perhaps was produced by Oates. Somebody found some carbide and\nOates immediately schemed to light the hut with acetylene. I think he was\nthe only person who did not view the preparation with ill-concealed\nnervousness. However, Wilson took the situation into his tactful hands.\nFor several days Oates and Wilson were deep in the acetylene plant scheme\nand then, apparently without reason, it was found that it could not be\ndone. It was a successful piece of strategy which no woman could have\nbettered.\n\nBowers, Wilson, Atkinson and I were on Crater Hill one morning when we\nespied a sledge party approaching from the direction of Castle Rock. As\nwe expected, this was the Geological party, consisting of Griffith\nTaylor, Wright, Debenham and Seaman Evans, home from the Western\nMountains. They entirely failed to recognize in our black faces the men\nwhom they had last seen from the ship at Glacier Tongue. I hope their\nstory will be told by Debenham. For days their doings were the topic of\nconversation. Both numerically and intellectually they were an addition\nto our party, which now numbered sixteen. Taylor especially is seldom at\na loss for conversation and his remarks are generally original, if\nsometimes crude. Most of us were glad to listen when the discussions in\nwhich he was a leading figure raged round the blubber stove. Scott and\nWilson were always in the thick of it, and the others chimed in as their\ninterest, knowledge and experience led. Rash statements on questions of\nfact were always dangerous, for our small community contained so many\nspecialists that errors were soon exposed. At the same time there were\nfew parts of the world that one or other of us had not visited at least\nonce. Later, when we came to our own limited quarters, books of reference\nwere constantly in demand to settle disputes. Such books as the Times\nAtlas, a good encyclopaedia and even a Latin Dictionary are invaluable to\nsuch expeditions for this purpose. To them I would add Who's Who.\n\nFrom odd corners we unearthed some Contemporary Reviews, the Girls' Own\nPaper and the Family Herald, all of ten years ago! We also found encased\nin ice an incomplete copy of Stanley Weyman's My Lady Rotha; it was\ncarefully thawed out and read by everybody, and the excitement was\nincreased by the fact that the end of the book was missing.\n\n\"Who's going to cook?\" was one of the last queries each night, and two\nmen would volunteer. It is not great fun lighting an ordinary coal fire\non a cold winter's morning, but lighting the blubber fire at Hut Point\nwhen the metal frosted your fingers and the frozen blubber had to be\ninduced to drip was a far more arduous task. The water was converted from\nits icy state and, by that time, the stove was getting hot, in inverse\nproportion to your temper. Seal liver fry and cocoa with unlimited\nDiscovery Cabin biscuits were the standard dish for breakfast, and when\nit was ready a sustained cry of 'hoosh' brought the sleepers from their\nbags, wiping reindeer hairs from their eyes. I think I was responsible\nfor the greatest breakfast failure when I fried some biscuits and\nsardines (we only had one tin). Leaving the biscuits in the frying pan,\nthe lid of a cooker, after taking it from the fire, they went on cooking\nand became as charcoal. This meal was known as 'the burnt-offering.' On\nApril 1 Bowers prepared to make a fool of two of us by putting chaff in\nour pannikins and covering the top only with seal meat. The plan turned\nback upon the maker, for he had not enough left to make up the\ndeficiency, and, as I found out many weeks afterwards, surreptitiously\ngave up his own hoosh to the April fools and went without himself. Of\nsuch are the small incidents which afforded real amusement and even live\nin the memory as outstanding features of our existence.\n\nBreakfast done, there was a general clean-up. One seized the apology for\na broom which existed: day foot-gear, finnesko, hair socks, ordinary\nsocks and puttees, took the place of fleecy sleeping-socks and fur-lined\nsleeping-boots: lunch cooks began to make their preparations: ice was\nfetched for water: a frozen chunk of red seal meat or liver was levered\nand chopped with an ice axe from the general store of seal meat: fids of\nsealskin, with the blubber attached, a good three inches of it perhaps,\nwere brought in and placed by the stove, much as we bring in a scuttle of\ncoal. Gradually the community scattered as duty or inclination led,\nleaving some members to dig away the snow-drifts which had accumulated\nround the door and windows during the night.\n\nBy lunch time every one had some new item of interest. Wright had found a\nnew form of ice crystal: Scott had tested the ice off the Point and found\nit five inches thick: Wilson had found new seal holes off Cape Armitage,\nand we had hopes of finding our food and fuel nearer home: Atkinson had\nkilled an Emperor penguin which weighed over ninety pounds, a record: and\nthe assistant zoologist felt he would have to skin it, and did not want\nto do so: Meares had found an excellent place to roll stones down Arrival\nHeights into the sea: Debenham had a new theory to account for the Great\nBoulder, as a mammoth block different in structure from the surrounding\ngeological features was called: Bowers had a scheme for returning from\nthe Pole by the Plateau instead of the Barrier: Oates might be heard\nsaying that he thought he could do with another chupattie. A favourite\npastime was the making of knots. Could you make a clove hitch with one\nhand?\n\nThe afternoon was like the morning, save that the sun was now sinking\nbehind the Western Mountains. These autumn effects were among the most\nbeautiful sights of the world, and it was now that Wilson made the\nsketches for many of the water-colours which he afterwards painted at\nWinter Quarters. The majority were taken from the summit of Observation\nHill, crouching under the lee of the rocks into which, nearly two years\nafter, we built the Cross which now stands to commemorate his death and\nthat of his companions. He sketched quickly with bare fingers and\nmittened hands, jotting down the outlines of hills and clouds, and\npencilling in the colours by name. After a minute, more or less, the\nfingers become too cold for such work, and they must be put back into the\nwool and fur mitts until they are again warm enough to continue. Pencil\nand sketch book, a Winsor and Newton, were carried in a little\nblubber-stained wallet on his belt. Scott carried his sledge diaries in\nsimilar books in a similar wallet made of green Willesden canvas and\nfastened with a lanyard.\n\nThere was a good fug in the hut by dinner time: this was a mixed\nblessing. It was good for our gear: sleeping-bags, finnesko, mitts, socks\nwere all hung up and dried, most necessary after sledging, and most\nimportant for the preservation of the skins; but it also started the most\ninfernal drip-drip from the roof. I have spoken of the double roof of the\nold Discovery hut. This was still full of solid ice; indeed some time\nafterwards a large portion of it fell, but luckily the inhabitants were\noutside. The immediate problem was to prevent the leaks falling on\nourselves, our food or our clothing and bags. And so every tin was\nbrought into use and hung from leaky spots, while water chutes came into\ntheir own. As the stove cooled so did the drip cease, and in no\nprehistoric cavern did more stalactites and stalagmites grow apace.\n\nOn March 16 the last sledge party to the Barrier that season started for\nCorner Camp with provisions to increase the existing depôt there. The\nparty was in charge of Lieutenant Evans, and consisted of Bowers, Oates,\nAtkinson, Wright, and myself, with two seamen, Crean and Forde. The\njourney out and back took eight days and was uneventful as sledge\njourneys go. Thick weather prevailed for several days, and after running\ndown our distance to Corner Camp we waited for it to clear. We found\nourselves six miles from the depôt and among crevasses, which goes to\nshow how easy it is to steer off the course under such conditions, and\nhow creditable the navigation is when a course is kept correctly,\nsometimes more by instinct than by skill.\n\nBut we got our first experience of cold weather sledging which was\nuseful. The minus thirties and forties are not very cold as we were to\nunderstand cold afterwards, but quite cold enough to start with; cold\nenough to teach you how to look after your footgear, handle metal and\nnot to waste time. However, the sun was still well up during the day, and\nthis makes all the difference, since any sun does more drying of clothes\nand gear than none at all. At the same time we began to realize the\ndifficulties which attend upon spring journeys, though we could only\nimagine what might be the trials on a journey in mid-winter, such as we\nintended to essay.\n\nIt is easy to be wise after the event, but, in looking back upon the\nexpedition as a whole, and the tragedy which was to come, mainly from the\nunforeseen cold of the autumn on the Barrier (such as minus forties in\nFebruary) it seems that we might have grasped that these temperatures\nwere lower than might have been expected in the middle of March quite\nnear the open sea. Even if this had occurred to any one, and I do not\nthink that it did, I doubt whether the next step of reasoning would have\nfollowed, namely, the possibility that the interior of the Barrier would,\nas actually happened, prove to be much colder than was expected at this\ndate. On the contrary I several times heard Scott mention the possibility\nof the Polar Party not returning until April. At the same time it must be\nrealized that pony transport to the foot of the Beardmore Glacier made a\nlate start inevitable, for the blizzards our ponies had already suffered\nproved that spring weather on the Barrier would be intolerable to them.\nAs a matter of fact, Scott says in his Message to the Public, \"no one in\nthe world would have expected the temperature and surfaces which we\nencountered at this time of the year.\"\n\nWe returned to find everything at Hut Point, including the hut, covered\nwith frozen spray. This was the result of a blizzard of which we only\nfelt the tail end on the Barrier. Scott wrote: \"The sea was breaking\nconstantly and heavily on the ice foot. The spray carried right over the\nPoint--covering all things and raining on the roof of the hut. Poor\nVince's cross, some 30 feet above the water, was enveloped in it. Of\ncourse the dogs had a very poor time, and we went and released two or\nthree, getting covered in spray during the operation--our wind clothes\nvery wet. This is the third gale from the South since our arrival here\n(i.e. in 2½ weeks). Any one of these would have rendered the Bay\nimpossible for a ship, and, therefore, it is extraordinary that we should\nhave entirely escaped such a blow when the Discovery was in it in\n1902.\"[129]\n\n * * * * *\n\nIt is difficult to see long distances across open water at this time of\nyear because the comparatively warm water throws up into the air a fog,\nknown as frost-smoke. If there is a wind this smoke is carried over the\nsurface of the sea, but if calm the smoke rises and forms a dense\ncurtain. Standing on Arrival Heights, which form the nail of the\nfinger-like Peninsula on which we now lived, we could see the four\nislands which lie near Cape Evans, and a black smudge in the face of the\nglaciers which descend from Erebus, which we knew to be the face of the\nsteep slope above Cape Evans, afterwards named The Ramp. But, for the\npresent, our comfortable hut might have been thousands of miles away for\nall the good it was to us. As soon as the wind fell calm the sea was\ncovered by a thin layer of ice, in twenty-four hours it might be four or\nfive inches thick, but as yet it never proved strong enough to resist the\nnext blizzard. In March the ice to the south was safe; there was\nappearance of ice in the two bays at the foot of Erebus' slopes in the\nbeginning of April.\n\nWe treated newly formed ice with far too little respect. It was on April\n7 that Scott asked whether any of us would like to walk northwards over\nthe newly formed ice towards Castle Rock. We had walked about two miles,\nthe ice heaving up and down as we went, dodging the open pools and leads\nto the best of our ability, when Taylor went right in. Luckily he could\nlever himself out without help, and returned to the hut with all speed.\nWe prepared to cross this ice to Cape Evans the next day, but the whole\nof it went out in the night. On another occasion we were prepared to set\nout the following morning, but the ice on which we were to cross went\nout on the turn of the tide some five hours before we timed ourselves to\nstart.\n\nScott was of opinion that the ice in the two Bays under Erebus was firm,\nand prepared to essay this route. The first of these bays is formed by\nthe junction of the Hut Point Peninsula with Erebus to the south, and by\nGlacier Tongue to the north. Crossing Glacier Tongue a party can descend\non to the second bay beyond, the northern boundary of which is Cape\nEvans. The Dellbridge Islands, of which Great Razorback is in direct line\nbetween Glacier Tongue and Cape Evans, help to hold in any ice which\nforms here. The route had never been attempted before, but it was hoped\nthat a way down from the Peninsula on to the frozen sea might be found at\nthe Hutton Cliffs, an outcrop of lava rock in the irregular ice face.\n\n\"A party consisting of Scott, Bowers, Taylor, and Seaman Evans with one\ntent, and Lieutenant Evans, Wright, Debenham, Gran and Crean with\nanother, started for Hut Point. It was dark to the south and snowing by\nthe time they reached the top of Ski Slope. We helped them past Third\nCrater. The ice from Hut Point to Glacier Tongue was impossible, and so\nthey went on past Castle Rock and were to try and get down somewhere by\nthe Hutton Cliffs on to some fast sea-ice which seemed to have held there\nsome time, and so across Glacier Tongue on to sea-ice which also seemed\nto be fast as far as Cape Evans.\n\n\"After lunch Wilson and I started about 4 P.M. in half a blizzard. It was\nmuch better on the Heights and fairly clear towards Erebus, but we could\nnot see any traces of the party on the ice.\n\n\"April 12. This morning as it was beginning to get light a blizzard\nstarted, and it is blowing very hard now. The large amount of snow which\nhas fallen will make it very thick. We are all anxious about the\nreturning party, for Scott talked of camping on the sea-ice. The ice in\nArrival Bay (just north of Hut Point) has gone out. They have\nsleeping-bags, food for two meals, and a full primus for each tent.\n\n\"April 13. We were very anxious about the returning party, especially\nwhen all the ice north of Hut Point went out. The blizzard blew itself\nout this morning, and it was a great change to see White Island and The\nBluff once more. Atkinson came in before lunch and told me that, looking\nfrom the Heights, the ice from Glacier Tongue to Cape Evans appeared to\nhave gone out. This sobered our lunch. We all made our way to Second\nCrater afterwards, and found the ice from the Hutton Cliffs to Glacier\nTongue and thence to Cape Evans was still in.\n\n\"Before leaving, Scott arranged to give Véry Lights at 10 P.M. from Cape\nEvans on the first clear night of the next three. To-night is the third,\nand the first clear night. We were out punctually, and then as we watched\na flare blazed up, followed by quite a firework display. We all went wild\nwith excitement--knowing that all was well. Meares ran in and soaked some\nawning with paraffin, and we lifted it as an answering flare and threw it\ninto the air again and again, until it was burning in little bits all\nover the snow. The relief was great.\"[130]\n\n * * * * *\n\nBowers must tell the story of the returning party:\n\n\"We topped the ridges and headed for Erebus beyond Castle Rock. It looked\na little threatening at first, but cleared a bit as we got on. It was\nquite interesting to be breaking new ground. Scott is a fine stepper in a\nsledge, and he set a fast and easy swing all the time. It was snowing and\nmisty when we got beyond the Hutton Cliffs, but we pitched the tents for\nlunch before going down the slope. There was no doubt that a blizzard was\ncoming up. It cleared during lunch, which we finished about 3.30 P.M., as\nit had been a long morning march.\n\n\"It was just as well for us that the mist cleared, for the slope was not\nonly crevassed in one direction, but it ended in a high ice-cliff. By\nworking along we found a lowish place about thirty feet down from top to\nbottom. Over this we lowered men and sledges. It had started to blow and\nthe drift was flying off the cliff in clouds. We put in a couple of\nstrong male bamboos to lower the last man away, leaving the Alpine rope\nthere to facilitate ascent (i.e. for any party returning to Hut Point\nwith food). We then repacked the sledges and headed across the bay\ntowards the Glacier Tongue, where we arrived after dark about 6 P.M. The\nyoung sea-ice was covered in a salt deposit which made it like pulling a\nsledge over treacle instead of ice, and it was very heavy going after the\nsnow uplands. The Tongue was mostly hard blue ice, which is slipperiness\nitself, and crevassed every few yards. Most of these were bridged, but\nyou were continually pushing a foot, or sometimes two, into nothingness,\nin the semi-darkness. None of us, however, went down to the extent of our\nharness.\n\n\"Arrived on the other side we struck a sheltered dip, where we decided to\ncamp for something to eat. It was after 8 P.M. and I was for camping\nthere for the night, as it seemed to me folly to venture upon a piece of\nuntried newly frozen sea-ice in inky darkness, with a blizzard coming up\nbehind us. Against this of course we were only five miles from Cape\nEvans, and though we had hardly any grub with us, not having anticipated\nthe cliff or the saltness of the sea-ice, and having to set out to do the\njourney in one day, I thought hunger in a sleeping-bag better than lying\nout in a blizzard on less than one foot of young ice.\n\n\"After a meal we started off at 9.30 P.M. in a snowy mist in which we\ncould literally see nothing. It had fallen calm though, and at last we\ncould see the outline of the nearest of the Dellbridge Islands called the\nGreat Razorback; our course lay for a smaller island ahead called the\nLittle Razorback. As we neared the Little Razorback Island the snow hid\neverything; in fact we could hardly see the island itself when we were\nright under it. It was impossible to go wandering on, so we had after all\nto camp on the sea-ice. There was scarcely any snow to put on the\nvalances of the tents, and the wet salt soaked the bags, and you knew\nthat there was only about six or ten inches of precarious ice between you\nand the black waters beneath. Altogether I decided that I for one would\nlie awake in such an insecure camp.\n\n\"As expected the blizzard overtook us shortly after midnight, and the\nshrieking of the wind among the rocks above might have been pretty\nunpleasant had it not assured me that we were still close to the island\nand not moving seaward. Needless to say, I said that I was sure the camp\nwas as safe as a church. At daylight Taylor dived out and in until the\nwind from the door blew out the ice valance and the next moment the tent\nclosed on us like an umbrella. We would never have spread it again had\nnot some of the drift settled round us, and so we were able to secure it\nafter an hour or two. The air was full of thick drift, and to work off\nsome of Taylor's energy I said we might climb the island and look for\nCape Evans.\n\n\"The island rose up straight from the sea at a sharp angle all round, and\nwe climbed it with difficulty. On the top we saw the reason of its name,\nas it was absolutely so sharp right along that you could bestride the top\nas though sitting in a saddle. It was too windy sitting up there to be\npleasant, so we descended, having seen nothing but clouds of flying snow,\nand the peak of Inaccessible Island. At the bottom of the weather side we\nfound a small ledge perfectly flat and just big enough to take two tents\npitched close together. At this place the island made a wind buffer and\nit was practically calm though the blizzard yelled all round. I urged\nCaptain Scott to camp on this ledge and Taylor fizzled for making for\nCape Evans, so Scott decided to ensure Taylor's safety, as he put it, and\nwe made for the ledge. Once there we had an ideal camp on good hard\nground and no wind, and had we had food the blizzard might have lasted a\nweek for aught I cared.\n\n[Illustration: THE HUT, EREBUS AND WHALE-BACK CLOUDS]\n\n\"We were two nights there and on the morning of the 13th it took off\nenough for us to head for home. We saw Sunny Jim's [Simpson's]\nObservatory on the Hill, but still did not know how the hut had fared\ntill we got round the cape into North Bay. There was the Winter Station\nall intact, however, and though North Bay had only just frozen in, it was\nstrong enough to bear us safely. Somebody saw us and in another moment\nthe hut poured out her little party, consisting of Sunny Jim, Ponting,\nNelson, Day, Lashly, Hooper, Clissold, Dimitri and Anton. Ponting's face\nwas a study as he ran up; he failed to recognize any of us and stopped\ndead with a blank look--as he admitted afterwards, he thought it was the\nNorwegian expedition for the space of a moment; and then we were all\nbeing greeted as heartily as if we had really done something to be proud\nof.\n\n\"The motors had had to be shifted, and a lot of gear placed higher up the\nbeach, but the water had never reached near the hut, so all was well.\nInside it looked tremendous, and we looked at our grimy selves in a glass\nfor the first time for three months; no wonder Ponting did not recognize\nthe ruffians. He photographed a group of us, which will amuse you some\nday, when it is permissible to send photos. We ate heartily and had hot\nbaths and generally civilized ourselves. I have since concluded that the\nhut is the finest place in the southern hemisphere, but then I could not\nshake down to it at once. I hankered for a sleeping-bag out on the snow,\nor for the blubbery atmosphere of Hut Point. I expect the truth of the\nmatter was that all my special pals, Bill, Cherry, Titus, and Atch, had\nbeen left behind.\n\n\"We found eight ponies at Winter Quarters in the stable, Hackenschmidt\nhaving died. These with our two at Hut Point left us with ten to start\nthe winter with. I at once looked out the other big Siberian horse that\nhad been a pair with my late lamented (they were the only Siberian\nponies, all the rest being Manchurians) and singled him out for myself,\nshould 'the powers that be' be willing.\n\n\"A party had to return to Hut Point with some provision in a day or two,\nso I asked to go. Captain Scott had decided to go himself, but said he\nwould be very pleased if I would go too; so it being a fine day we left\nthe following Monday. The two teams consisted of Captain Scott, Lashly,\nDay and Dimitri with one tent and sledge, and Crean, Hooper, Nelson and\nmyself with the other. We had it fine as far as the Glacier Tongue; and\nthen along came the cheery old south wind in our faces; we crossed the\nTongue and struggled against this till we could camp under the Hutton\nCliffs where we got some shelter. All of us had our faces frost-bitten,\nthe washing and shaving having made mine quite tender. It was a bit of a\njob getting up the cliff: we had to stand on top of a pile of fallen ice\nand hoist a 10-feet sledge on to our shoulders, at least on to the\nshoulders of the tall ones; this just touched the overhanging cornice. A\ncornice of snow is caused by continual drift over a sharp edge: it takes\nall sorts of fantastic shapes, but usually hangs over like this. Looking\nedgeways it looks as if it must fall down, but as a matter of fact is\nusually very tough indeed. In this case steps were cut in it with an ice\naxe from our extemporary ladder, and Captain Scott and I got up first.\nWith the aid of a rope and the ladder we got the light ones up first, and\nhauled up the gear last of all; hanging the sledge from the top with one\nrope enabled the last two to struggle up it assisted by a rope round them\nfrom above. It was a cold job and more frost-bites occurred in two of our\nnovices, one on a foot and the other on a finger.\n\n\"We faced the blast again, but got it partially behind us on reaching the\nHeights. We camped for the night under Castle Rock on an inclined slope.\nIt calmed down to a glorious night with a low temperature. Crean and I\nlay head down hill to make Nelson and Hooper--who had never sledged\nbefore--more comfortable. As a result Crean slipped half out of the tent\nand let in a cold stream of air under the valance, for which I was at a\nloss to account until the morning disclosed him thus, fast asleep of\ncourse. It takes a lot to worry Captain Scott's coxswain.\n\n\"We arrived at Hut Point and had a great reception there, chiefly on\naccount of the food we brought, particularly the sugar. We had been\nliving on some paraffin sugar when I left before, and even this was\nfinished. The next day we stayed there to kill seals. Cherry and I\nskinned one and then went for a walk round Cape Armitage. It was blowing\nbig guns off the cape, fairly fizzing in fact. We went as far as Pram\nPoint and then turned, coming in with it behind us. I only had a thin\nbalaclava and my ears were nearly nipped.\"[131]\n\n * * * * *\n\nMeanwhile those of us who had been left at Hut Point with the ponies and\ndogs journeyed out one afternoon to Safety Camp to get some more bales of\ncompressed fodder. Easter Sunday we spent in a howling blizzard, which\ncleared in the afternoon sufficiently to see a golden sun sinking into a\nsea of purple frost-smoke and drift.\n\nI have it on record that we had tinned haddock this day for breakfast,\nmade by Oates with great care, a biscuit and cheese hoosh for lunch, and\na pemmican fry this evening, followed by cocoa with a tin of sweetened\nNestlé's milk in it, truly a great luxury. For the rest we mended our\nfinnesko, and read Bleak House. Meares told us how the Chinese who were\ngoing to war with the Lolos (who are one of the Eighteen tribes on the\nborders of Thibet and China) tied the Lolo hostage to a bench, and,\nhaving cut his throat, caught the blood which dripped from it. Into this\nthey dipped their flag, and then cut out the heart and liver, which the\nofficers ate, while the men ate the rest!\n\nThe relief party arrived on April 18: \"We had spent such a happy week,\njust the seven of us, at the Discovery hut that I think, glad as we were\nto see the men, we would most of us have rather been left undisturbed,\nand I expected that it would mean that we should have to move homewards,\nas it turned out.\n\n\"Meares is to be left in charge of the party which remains, namely Forde\nand Keohane of the old stagers, and Nelson, Day, Lashly and Dimitri of\nthe new-comers. He is very amusing with the stores and is evidently\nafraid that the food which has just been brought in (sugar, self-raising\nflour, chocolate, etc.) will all be eaten up by those who have brought\nit. So we have dampers without butter, and a minimum of chocolate.\n\n\"Tuesday and Tuesday night was one of our few still, cold days, nearly\nminus thirty. The sea northwards from Hut Point, whence the ice had\npreviously all gone out, froze nearly five inches by Wednesday mid-day,\nwhen we got three more seal. Scott was evidently thinking that on\nThursday, when we were to start, we might go by the sea-ice all the\nway--when suddenly with no warning it silently floated out to sea.\"[132]\n\n[Illustration: A CORNICE OF SNOW]\n\nThe following two teams travelled to Cape Evans via the Hutton Cliffs on\nApril 21: 1st team Scott, Wilson, Atkinson, Crean; 2nd team Bowers,\nOates, Cherry-Garrard, Hooper. It was blowing hard, as usual, at the\nHutton Cliffs, and we got rather frost-bitten when lowering the sledges\non to the sea-ice. The sun was leaving us for the next four months, but\nluckily the light just lasted for this operation, though not for the\nsubsequent meal which we hastily ate under the cliffs, nor for the\ncrossing of Glacier Tongue. Bowers wrote home:\n\n\"I had the lighter team and, knowing what a flier Captain Scott is I took\ncare to have the new sledge myself. Our weights were nothing and the\ndifference was only in the sledge runners, but it made all the difference\nto us that day. Scott fairly legged it, as I expected, and we came along\ngaily behind him. He could not understand it when the pace began to tell\nmore on his heavy team than on us. After lowering down the sledges over\nthe cliffs we recovered the rope we had left in the first place, and then\nstruck out over the sea-ice. Then our good runners told so much that I\nowned up to mine being the better sledge, and offered to give them one of\nmy team. This was declined, but after we crossed the Tongue Captain Scott\nsaid he would like to change sledges at the Little Razorback. At any time\nover this stretch we could have run away from his team, and once they got\nour sledge they started that game on us. We expected it, and never had I\nstepped out so hard before. We had been marching hard for nearly 12 hours\nand now we had two miles' spurt to do, and we should have stuck it, bad\nrunners and all, had we had smooth ice. As it was we struck a belt of\nrough ice, and in the dark we all stumbled and I went down a whack, that\nnearly knocked me out. This was not noticed fortunately, and still we\nhung on to the end of their sledge while I turned hot and cold and\nsick and went through the various symptoms before I got my equilibrium\nback, which I fortunately did while legging it at full speed. They\nstarted to go ahead soon after that though, and we could not hold our\nown, although we were close to the cape. I had the same thing happen\nagain after another fall but we stuck it round the cape and arrived only\nabout 50 yards behind. I have never felt so done, and so was my team. Of\ncourse we need not have raced, but we did, and I would do the same thing\nevery time. Titus produced a mug of brandy he had sharked from the ship\nand we all lapped it up with avidity. The other team were just about laid\nout, too, so I don't think there was much to be said either way.\"[133]\n\nTwo days later the sun appeared for the last time for four months.\n\nLooking back I realized two things. That sledging, at any rate in summer\nand autumn, was a much less terrible ordeal than my imagination had\npainted it, and that those Hut Point days would prove some of the\nhappiest in my life. Just enough to eat and keep us warm, no more--no\nfrills nor trimmings: there is many a worse and more elaborate life. The\nnecessaries of civilization were luxuries to us: and as Priestley found\nunder circumstances compared to which our life at Hut Point was a Sunday\nSchool treat, the luxuries of civilization satisfy only those wants which\nthey themselves create.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n [117] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. pp. 180-81.\n\n [118] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. pp. 187-188. Scott\n started for the Pole on November 1, 1911. Amundsen started\n on September 8, 1911, but had to turn back owing to low\n temperatures; he started again on October 19.\n\n [119] Priestley's diary.\n\n [120] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 185.\n\n [121] See p. 123.\n\n [122] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. pp. 190-191.\n\n [123] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. pp. 191-192.\n\n [124] Wilson camped with the two dog-teams on the land, and in the\n morning saw us floating on the ice-floes through his\n field-glasses. He made his way along the peninsula until he\n could descend on to the Barrier, where he joined Scott.\n\n [125] I think he was stiff after standing so many hours.--A. C.-G.\n\n [126] Scott, _The Voyage of the Discovery_, vol. i. p. 350.\n\n [127] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 201.\n\n [128] Bowers.\n\n [129] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 207.\n\n [130] My own diary.\n\n [131] Bowers.\n\n [132] My own diary.\n\n [133] Bowers' letter.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nTHE FIRST WINTER\n\n The highest object that human beings can set before themselves is\n not the pursuit of any such chimera as the annihilation of the\n unknown; it is simply the unwearied endeavour to remove its\n boundaries a little further from our little sphere of\n action.--HUXLEY.\n\n\nAnd so we came back to our comfortable hut. Whatever merit there may be\nin going to the Antarctic, once there you must not credit yourself for\nbeing there. To spend a year in the hut at Cape Evans because you explore\nis no more laudable than to spend a month at Davos because you have\nconsumption, or to spend an English winter at the Berkeley Hotel. It is\njust the most comfortable thing and the easiest thing to do under the\ncircumstances.\n\nIn our case the best thing was not at all bad, for the hut, as Arctic\nhuts go, was as palatial as is the Ritz, as hotels go. Whatever the\nconditions of darkness, cold and wind, might be outside, there was\ncomfort and warmth and good cheer within.\n\nAnd there was a mass of work to be done, as well as at least two journeys\nof the first magnitude ahead.\n\nWhen Scott first sat down at his little table at Winter Quarters to start\nworking out a most complicated scheme of weights and averages for the\nSouthern Journey, his thoughts were gloomy, I know. \"This is the end of\nthe Pole,\" he said to me, when he pulled us off the bergs after the\nsea-ice had broken up; the loss of six ponies out of the eight with which\nwe started the Depôt Journey, the increasing emaciation and weakness of\nthe pony transport as we travelled farther on the Barrier, the arrival\nof the dogs after their rapid journey home, starved rakes which looked as\nthough they were absolutely done--these were not cheerful recollections\nwith which to start to plan a journey of eighteen hundred miles.\n\nOn the other hand, we had ten ponies left, though two or three of them\nwere of more than doubtful quality; and it was obvious that considerable\nimprovement could and must be made in the feeding of both ponies and\ndogs. With regard to the dogs the remedy was plain; their ration was too\nsmall. With regard to the ponies the question was not so simple. One of\nthe main foods for the ponies which we had brought was compressed fodder\nin the shape of bales. Theoretically this fodder was excellent food\nvalue, and was made of wheat which was cut green and pressed. Whether it\nwas really wheat or not I do not know, but there could be no two opinions\nabout its nourishing qualities for our ponies. When fed upon it they lost\nweight until they were just skin and bone. Poor beasts! It was pitiful to\nsee them.\n\nIn Oates we had a man who had forgotten as much as most men know about\nhorses. It was no fault of his that this fodder was inadequate, nor that\nwe had lost so many of the best ponies which we had. Oates had always\nbeen for taking the worst ponies out on the Depôt Journey: travelling as\nfar on to the Barrier as they could go, and there killing them and\ndepôting their flesh. Now Oates took the ten remaining ponies into his\ncapable hands. Some of them were scarecrows, especially poor Jehu, who\nwas never expected to start at all, and ended by gallantly pulling his\nsomewhat diminished load eight marches beyond One Ton Camp, a distance of\n238 miles. Another, Christopher, was a man-killer if ever a horse was; he\nhad to be thrown in order to attach him to the sledge; to the end he\nwould lay out any man who was rash enough to give him the chance; once\nstarted, and it took four men to achieve this, it was impossible to halt\nhim during the day's march, and so Oates and his three tent mates and\ntheir ponies had to go without any lunch meal for 130 miles of the\nSouthern Journey.\n\nOates trained them and fed them as though they were to run in the Derby.\nThey were exercised whenever possible throughout the winter and spring by\nthose who were to lead them on the actual journey. Fresh and good food\nwas found in the shape of oilcake and oats, a limited quantity of each of\nwhich had been brought and was saved for the actual Polar Journey, and\neverything which care and foresight could devise was done to save them\ndiscomfort. It is a grim life for animals, but in the end we were to know\nthat up to the time of that bad blizzard almost at the Glacier Gateway,\nwhich was the finishing post of these plucky animals, they had fed all\nthey needed, slept as well and lived as well as any, and better than most\nhorses in ordinary life at home. \"I congratulate you, Titus,\" said\nWilson, as we stood under the shadow of Mount Hope, with the ponies' task\naccomplished, and \"I thank you,\" said Scott.\n\nTitus grunted and was pleased.\n\nTransport difficulties for the Polar Journey were considerable, but in\nevery other direction the outlook was bright. The men who were to do the\nsledging had been away from Winter Quarters for three months. They had\nhad plenty of sledging experience, some of it none too soft. The sledges,\nclothing, man-food, and outfit generally were excellent, although some\nchanges were suggested and could be put into effect. There was no obvious\nmeans, however, of effecting the improvement most desired, a satisfactory\nsnow-shoe for the ponies.\n\nThe work already accomplished was enormous. On the Polar Journey the\nponies and dogs could now travel light for the first hundred and thirty\ngeographical miles, when, at One Ton Camp, they would for the first time\ntake their full loads: the advantage of being able to start again with\nfull loads when so far on your way is obvious when it is considered that\nthe distance travelled depends upon the weight of food that can be\ncarried. During the geological journey on the western side of the Sound,\nTaylor and his party had carried out much useful geological work in Dry\nValley and on the Ferrar and Koettlitz Glaciers, which had been\naccurately plotted for the charts, and had been examined for the first\ntime by an expert physiographer and ice specialist. The ordinary routine\nof scientific and meteorological observations usual with all Scott's\nsledging parties was observed.\n\nFurther, at Cape Evans there had been running for more than three months\na scientific station, which rivalled in thoroughness and exactitude any\nother such station in the world. I hope that later a more detailed\naccount may be given of this continuous series of observations, some of\nthem demanding the most complex mechanism, and all of them watched over\nby enthusiastic experts. It must here suffice to say that we who on our\nreturn saw for the first time the hut and its annexes completely equipped\nwere amazed; though perhaps the gadget which appealed most to us at first\nwas the electric apparatus by which the cook, whose invention it was,\ncontrolled the rising of his excellent bread.\n\nGlad as we were to find it all and to enjoy the food, bath and comfort\nwhich it offered, we had no illusions about Cape Evans itself. It is\nuninteresting, as only a low-lying spit of black lava covered for the\nmost part with snow, and swept constantly by high winds and drift, can be\nuninteresting. The kenyte lava of which it is formed is a remarkable\nrock, and is found in few parts of the world: but when you have seen one\nbit of kenyte you have seen all. Unlike the spacious and lofty Hut Point\nPeninsula, thirteen miles to the south, it has no outstanding hills and\ncraters; no landmarks such as Castle Rock. Unlike the broad folds of Cape\nRoyds, six miles to the north, it has none of the rambling walks and\nvaried lakes, in which is found most of the limited plant life which\nexists in these latitudes, and though a few McCormick skuas meet here,\nthere is no nursery of penguins such as that which makes Cape Royds so\nattractive in summer. Nor has the Great Ice Sheet, which reached up\nErebus and spread over the Ross Sea in the past, spilled over Cape Evans\nin its retreat a wealth of foreign granites, dolerites, porphyrys and\nsandstone such as cover the otherwise dull surface round Shackleton's old\nWinter Quarters.\n\nCape Evans is a low lava flow jutting out some three thousand feet from\nthe face of the glaciers which clothe the slopes of Erebus. It is roughly\nan equilateral triangle in shape, at its base some three thousand feet\n(9/16th mile) across. This base-line, which divides the cape from the\nslopes of Erebus and the crevassed glaciers and giant ice-falls which\nclothe them, consists of a ramp with a slope of thirty degrees, and a\nvarying height of some 100 to 150 feet. From our hut, four hundred yards\naway, it looks like a great embankment behind which rises the majestic\nvolcano Erebus, with its plume of steam and smoke.\n\nThe cape itself does not rise on the average more than thirty feet, and\nsomewhat resembles the back of a hog with several backbones. The hollows\nbetween the ridges are for the most part filled with snow and ice, while\nin one or two places where the accumulation of snow is great enough there\nare little glacierets which do not travel far before they ignominiously\npeter out. There are two small lakes, called Skua Lake and Island Lake\nrespectively. There is only one hill which is almost behind the hut, and\nis called Wind Vane Hill, for on it were placed one of our wind vanes and\ncertain other meteorological instruments. Into the glacieret which flowed\ndown in the lee of this hill we drove two caves, which gave both an even\nlow temperature and excellent insulation. One of them was therefore used\nfor our magnetic observations, and the other as an ice-house for the\nmutton we had brought from New Zealand.\n\nThe north side, upon which we had built our hut, slopes down by way of a\nrubbly beach to the sea in North Bay. We knew there was a beach for we\nlanded upon it, but we never saw it again even in the height of summer,\nfor the winter blizzards formed an ice foot several feet thick. The other\nside of the cape ends abruptly in black bastions and baby cliffs some\nthirty feet high. The apex of the triangle which forms as it were the\ncape proper is a similar kenyte bluff. The whole makes a tricky place on\nwhich to walk in the dark, for the surface is strewn with boulders of all\nsizes and furrowed and channelled by drifts of hard and icy snow, and\nquite suddenly you may find yourself prostrate upon a surface of slippery\nblue ice. It may be easily imagined that it is no seemly place to\nexercise skittish ponies or mules in a cold wind, but there is no other\nplace when the sea-ice is unsafe.\n\nCome and stand outside the hut door. All round you, except where the cape\njoins the mountain, is the sea. You are facing north with your back to\nthe Great Ice Barrier and the Pole, with your eyes looking out of the\nmouth of McMurdo Sound over the Ross Sea towards New Zealand, two\nthousand miles of open water, pack and bergs. Look over the sea to your\nleft. It is mid-day, and though the sun will not appear above the horizon\nhe is still near enough to throw a soft yellow light over the Western\nMountains. These form the coast-line thirty miles across the Sound, and\nas they disappear northwards are miraged up into the air and float, black\nislands in a lemon sky. Straight ahead of you there is nothing to be seen\nbut black open sea, with a high light over the horizon, which you know\nbetokens pack; this is ice blink. But as you watch there appears and\ndisappears a little dark smudge. This puzzles you for some time, and then\nyou realize that this is the mirage of some far mountain or of Beaufort\nIsland, which guards the mouth of McMurdo Sound against such traffic as\never comes that way, by piling up the ice floes across the entrance.\n\nAs you still look north, in the middle distance, jutting out into the\nsea, is a low black line of land, with one excrescence. This is Cape\nRoyds, with Shackleton's old hut upon it; the excrescence is High Peak,\nand this line marks the first land upon the eastern side of McMurdo Sound\nwhich you can see, and indeed is actually the most eastern point of Ross\nIsland. It disappears abruptly behind a high wall, and if you let your\neyes travel round towards your right front you see that the wall is a\nperpendicular cliff two hundred feet high of pure green and blue ice,\nwhich falls sheer into the sea, and forms, with Cape Evans, on which we\nstand, the bay which lies in front of our hut, and which we called North\nBay. This great ice-cliff with its crevasses, towers, bastions and\ncornices, was a never-ending source of delight to us; it forms the snout\nof one of the many glaciers which slide down the slopes of Erebus: in\nsmooth slopes and contours where the mountain underneath is of regular\nshape: in impassable icefalls where the underlying surface is steep or\nbroken. This particular ice stream is called the Barne Glacier, and is\nabout two miles across. The whole background from our right front to our\nright rear, that is from N.E. to S.E., is occupied by our massive and\nvolcanic neighbour, Erebus. He stands 13,500 feet high. We live beneath\nhis shadow and have both admiration and friendship for him, sometimes\nperhaps tinged with respect. However, there are no signs of dangerous\neruptive disturbances in modern times, and we feel pretty safe, despite\nthe fact that the smoke which issues from his crater sometimes rises in\ndense clouds for many thousands of feet, and at others the trail of his\nplume can be measured for at least a hundred miles.\n\nIf you are not too cold standing about (it does not pay to stand about at\nCape Evans) let us make our way behind the hut and up Wind Vane Hill.\nThis is only some sixty-five feet high, yet it dominates the rest of the\ncape and is steep enough to require a scramble, even now when the wind is\ncalm. Look out that you do not step on the electric wires which connect\nthe wind-vane cups on the hill with the recording dial in the hut. These\ncups revolve in the wind, the revolutions being registered electrically:\nevery four miles a signal was sent to the hut, and a pen working upon a\nchronograph registered one more step. There is also a meteorological\nscreen on the summit, which has to be visited at eight o'clock each\nmorning in all weathers.\n\n[Illustration: A SUMMER VIEW OVER CAPE EVANS AND MCMURDO SOUND FROM THE\nRAMP--Emery Walker Limited, Collotypers.]\n\nArrived on the top you will now be facing south, that is in the opposite\ndirection to which you were facing before. The first thing that will\nstrike you is that the sea, now frozen in the bays though still unfrozen\nin the open sound, flows in nearly to your feet. The second, that though\nthe sea stretches back for nearly twenty miles, yet the horizon shows\nland or ice in every direction. For a ship this is a cul-de-sac, as Ross\nfound seventy years ago. But as soon as you have grasped these two\nfacts your whole attention will be riveted to the amazing sight on your\nleft. Here are the southern slopes of Erebus; but how different from\nthose which you have lately seen. Northwards they fell in broad calm\nlines to a beautiful stately cliff which edged the sea. But here--all the\nepithets and all the adjectives which denote chaotic immensity could not\nadequately tell of them. Visualize a torrent ten miles long and twenty\nmiles broad; imagine it falling over mountainous rocks and tumbling over\nitself in giant waves; imagine it arrested in the twinkling of an eye,\nfrozen and white. Countless blizzards have swept their drifts over it,\nbut have failed to hide it. And it continues to move. As you stand in the\nstill cold air you may sometimes hear the silence broken by the sharp\nreports as the cold contracts it or its own weight splits it. Nature is\ntearing up that ice as human beings tear paper.\n\nThe sea-cliff is not so high here, and is more broken up by crevasses and\ncaves, and more covered with snow. Some five miles along the coast the\nwhite line is broken by a bluff and black outcrop of rock; this is Turk's\nHead, and beyond it is the low white line of Glacier Tongue, jutting out\nfor miles into the sea. We know, for we have already crossed it, that\nthere is a small frozen bay of sea-ice beyond, but all we can see from\nCape Evans is the base of the Hut Point Peninsula, with a rock outcrop\njust showing where the Hutton Cliffs lie. The Peninsula prevents us from\nseeing the Barrier, though the Barrier wind is constantly flowing over\nit, as the clouds of drift now smoking over the Cliffs bear witness.\nFarther to the right still, the land is clear: Castle Rock stands up like\na sentinel, and beyond are Arrival Heights and the old craters we have\ngot to know so well during our stay at Hut Point. The Discovery hut,\nwhich would, in any case, be invisible at fifteen miles, is round that\nsteep rocky corner which ends the Peninsula, due south from where we\nstand.\n\nThere remains undescribed the quadrant which stretches to our right front\nfrom south to west. Just as we have previously seen the line of the\nWestern Mountains disappearing to the north miraged up in the light of\nthe mid-day sun, so now we see the same line of mountains running south,\nwith many miles of sea or Barrier between us and them. On the far\nsouthern horizon, almost in transit with Hut Point, stands Minna Bluff,\nsome ninety miles away, beyond which we have laid the One Ton Depôt, and\nfrom this point, as our eyes move round to the right, we see peak after\npeak of these great mountain ranges--Discovery, Morning, Lister, Hooker,\nand the glaciers which divide them one from another. They rise almost\nwithout a break to a height of thirteen thousand feet. Between us and\nthem is the Barrier to the south, and the sea to the north. Unless a\nblizzard is impending or blowing, they are clearly visible, a gigantic\nwall of snow and ice and rock, which bounds our view to the west,\nconstantly varied by the ever-changing colour of the Antarctic. Beyond is\nthe plateau.\n\nWe have not yet mentioned four islands which lie within a radius of about\nthree miles from where we stand. The most important is a mile from the\nend of Cape Evans and is called Inaccessible Island, owing to the\ninhospitality of its steep lava side, even when the sea is frozen; we\nfound a way up, but it is not a very interesting place. Tent Island lies\nfarther out and to the south-west. The remaining two, which are more\nislets than islands, rise in front of us in South Bay. They are called\nGreat and Little Razorback, being ribs of rock with a sharp divide in the\ncentre. The latter of these is the refuge upon which Scott's party\nreturning to Cape Evans pitched their camp when overtaken by a blizzard\nsome weeks ago. All these islands are of volcanic origin and black in\ngeneral colour, but I believe there is evidence to show that the lava\nstream which created them flowed from McMurdo Sound rather than from the\nmore obvious craters of Erebus. Their importance in this story is the\nindirect help they gave in holding in sea-ice against southerly\nblizzards, and in forming landmarks which proved useful more than once to\nmen who had lost their bearings in darkness and thick weather. In this\nrespect also several icebergs which sailed in from the Ross Sea and\ngrounded on the shallows which run between Inaccessible Island and the\ncape, as well as in South Bay, were most useful as well as being\ninteresting and beautiful. For two years we watched the weathering of\nthese great towers and bastions of ice by sea and sun and wind, and left\nthem still lying in the same positions, but mere tumbled ruins of their\nformer selves.\n\nMany places in the panorama we have examined show black rock, and the\ncape on which we stand exposes at times more black than white. This fact\nalways puzzles those who naturally conclude that all the Antarctic is\ncovered with ice and snow. The explanation is simple, that winds of the\ngreat velocity which prevails in this region will not only prevent snow\nresting to windward of out-cropping rocks and cliffs, but will even wear\naway the rocks themselves. The fact that these winds always blow from the\nsouth, or southerly, causes a tendency for this aspect of any projecting\nrock to be blown free from snow, while the north or lee side is drifted\nup by a marbled and extremely hard tongue of snow, which disappears into\na point at a distance which depends upon the size of the rock.\n\nOf course for the most part the land is covered to such a depth by\nglaciers and snow that no wind will do more than pack the snow or expose\nthe ice beneath. At the same time, to visualize the Antarctic as a white\nland is a mistake, for, not only is there much rock projecting wherever\nmountains or rocky capes and islands rise, but the snow seldom looks\nwhite, and if carefully looked at will be found to be shaded with many\ncolours, but chiefly with cobalt blue or rose-madder, and all the\ngradations of lilac and mauve which the mixture of these colours will\nproduce. A White Day is so rare that I have recollections of going out\nfrom the hut or the tent and being impressed by the fact that the snow\nreally looked white. When to the beautiful tints in the sky and the\ndelicate shading on the snow are added perhaps the deep colours of the\nopen sea, with reflections from the ice foot and ice-cliffs in it, all\nbrilliant blues and emerald greens, then indeed a man may realize how\nbeautiful this world can be, and how clean.\n\nThough I may struggle with inadequate expression to show the reader that\nthis pure Land of the South has many gifts to squander upon those who\nwoo her, chiefest of these gifts is that of her beauty. Next, perhaps, is\nthat of grandeur and immensity, of giant mountains and limitless spaces,\nwhich must awe the most casual, and may well terrify the least\nimaginative of mortals. And there is one other gift which she gives with\nboth hands, more prosaic, but almost more desirable. That is the gift of\nsleep. Perhaps it is true of others as is certainly the case with me,\nthat the more horrible the conditions in which we sleep, the more\nsoothing and wonderful are the dreams which visit us. Some of us have\nslept in a hurricane of wind and a hell of drifting snow and darkness,\nwith no roof above our heads, with no tent to help us home, with no\nconceivable chance that we should ever see our friends again, with no\nfood that we could eat, and only the snow which drifted into our\nsleeping-bags which we could drink day after day and night after night.\nWe slept not only soundly the greater part of these days and nights, but\nwith a certain numbed pleasure. We wanted something sweet to eat: for\npreference tinned peaches in syrup! Well! That is the kind of sleep the\nAntarctic offers you at her worst, or nearly at her worst. And if the\nworst, or best, happens, and Death comes for you in the snow, he comes\ndisguised as Sleep, and you greet him rather as a welcome friend than as\na gruesome foe. She treats you thus when you are in the extremity of\nperil and hardship; perhaps then you can imagine what draughts of deep\nand healthy slumber she will give a tired sledger at the end of a long\nday's march in summer, when after a nice hot supper he tucks his soft dry\nwarm furry bag round him with the light beating in through the green silk\ntent, the homely smell of tobacco in the air, and the only noise that of\nthe ponies tethered outside, munching their supper in the sun.\n\nAnd so it came about that during our sojourn at Cape Evans, in our\ncomfortable warm roomy home, we took our full allotted span of sleep.\nMost were in their bunks by 10 P.M., sometimes with a candle and a book,\nnot rarely with a piece of chocolate. The acetylene was turned off at\n10.30, for we had a limited quantity of carbide, and soon the room was\nin complete darkness, save for the glow of the galley stove and where a\nsplash of light showed the night watchman preparing his supper. Some\nsnored loudly, but none so loud as Bowers; others talked in their sleep,\nthe more so when some nasty experience had lately set their nerves on\nedge. There was always the ticking of many instruments, and sometimes the\nring of a little bell: to this day I do not know what most of them meant.\nOn a calm night no sound penetrated except, perhaps, the whine of a dog,\nor the occasional kick of a pony in the stable outside. Any disturbance\nwas the night watchman's job. But on a bad blizzard night the wind, as it\ntore seawards over the hut, roared and howled in the ventilator let into\nthe roof: in the more furious gusts the whole hut shook, and the pebbles\npicked up by the hurricane scattered themselves noisily against the\nwoodwork of the southern wall. We did not get many nights like these the\nfirst winter; during the second we seemed to get nothing else. One\nghastly blizzard blew for six weeks.\n\nThe night watchman took his last hourly observation at 7 A.M., and was\nfree to turn in after waking the cook and making up the fire. Frequently,\nhowever, he had so much work to do that he preferred to forgo his sleep\nand remain up. For instance, if the weather looked threatening, he would\ntake his pony out for exercise as soon as possible in the morning, or\nthose lists of stores were not finished, or that fish trap had to be\nlooked after: all kinds of things.\n\nA sizzling on the fire and a smell of porridge and fried seal liver\nheralded breakfast, which was at 8 A.M. in theory and a good deal later\nin practice. A sleepy eye might see the meteorologist stumping out\n(Simpson always stumped) to change the records in his magnetic cave and\nvisit his instruments on the Hill. Twenty minutes later he would be back,\nas often as not covered with drift and his wind helmet all iced up.\nMeanwhile, the more hardy ones were washing: that is, they rubbed\nthemselves, all shivering, with snow, of a minus temperature, and\npretended they liked it. Perhaps they were right, but we told them it was\nswank. I'm not sure that it wasn't! It should be explained that water\nwas seldom possible in a land where ice is more abundant than coal.\n\nOne great danger threatened all our meals in this hut, namely that of a\nCag. A Cag is an argument, sometimes well informed and always heated,\nupon any subject under the sun, or temporarily in our case, the moon.\nThey ranged from the Pole to the Equator, from the Barrier to Portsmouth\nHard and Plymouth Hoe. They began on the smallest of excuses, they\ncontinued through the widest field, they never ended; they were left in\nmid air, perhaps to be caught up again and twisted and tortured months\nafter. What caused the cones on the Ramp; the formation of ice crystals;\nthe names and order of the public-houses if you left the Main Gate of\nPortsmouth Dockyard and walked to the Unicorn Gate (if you ever reached\nso far); the best kinds of crampons in the Antarctic, and the best place\nin London for oysters; the ideal pony rug; would the wine steward at the\nRitz look surprised if you asked him for a pint of bitter? Though the\nTimes Atlas does not rise to public-houses nor Chambers's Encyclopaedia\nsink to behaviour at our more expensive hotels, yet they settled more of\nthese disputes than anything else.\n\nOn the day we are discussing, though mutterings can still be heard from\nNelson's cubicle, the long table has been cleared and every one is busy\nby 9.30. From now until supper at 7 work is done by all in some form or\nother, except for a short luncheon interval. I do not mean for a minute\nthat we all sit down, as a man may do in an office at home, and solidly\ngrind away for upwards of nine hours or more. Not a bit of it. We have\nmuch work out of doors, and exercise is a consideration of the utmost\nimportance. But when we go out, each individual quite naturally takes the\nopportunity to carry out such work as concerns him, whether it deals with\nice or rocks, dogs or horses, meteorology or biology, tide-gauges or\nballoons.\n\nWhen blizzards allowed, the ponies were exercised by their respective\nleaders between breakfast and mid-day, when they were fed. This\nexercising of animals might be a pleasant business, on the other hand it\ncould be the deuce and all: it depended on the pony and the weather. A\nblubber fire was kept burning in the snug stable, which was built against\nthe lee wall of the hut: the ponies were, therefore, quite warm, and\nfound it chilly directly they were led outside, even if there was no\nwind.\n\nThe difficulties of exercising them in the dark were so great that with\nthe best intentions in the world it was difficult to give them sufficient\nwork for the good feeding they received. Add to this the fact that one at\nany rate of these variable animals was really savage, and that most of\nthem were keen to break away if possible, and the hour of exercise was\nnot without its thrills even on the calmest and most moonlight days. The\nworst days were those when it was difficult to say whether the ponies\nshould be taken out on the sea-ice or not. It was thick weather that was\nto be feared, for then, if the leader once lost his bearings, it was most\ndifficult for him to return. An overcast sky, light falling snow, perhaps\na light northerly wind generally meant a blizzard, but the blizzard might\nnot break for twenty-four hours, it might be upon you in four seconds. It\nwas difficult to say whether the pony should miss his exercise, whether\nthe fish trap should be raised, whether to put off your intended trip to\nCape Royds. Generally the risks were taken, for, on the whole, it is\nbetter to be a little over-bold than a little over-cautious, while always\nthere was a something inside urging you to do it just because there was a\ncertain risk, and you hardly liked not to do it. It is so easy to be\nafraid of being afraid!\n\nLet me give one instance: it must be typical of many. It was thick as it\ncould be, no moon, no stars, light falling snow, and not even a light\nbreeze to keep in your face to give direction. Bowers and I decided to\ntake our ponies out, and once over the tide crack, where the working\nsea-ice joins the fast land-ice, we kept close under the tall cliffs of\nthe Barne Glacier. So far all was well, and also when we struck along a\nsmall crack into the middle of the bay, where there was a thermometer\nscreen. This we read with some difficulty by the light of a match and\nstarted back towards the hut. In about a quarter of an hour we knew we\nwere quite lost until an iceberg which we recognized showed us that we\nhad been walking at right angles to our course, and got us safe home.\n\nOn a clear crisp day, with the full moon to show you the ridges and\ncracks and sastrugi, it was most pleasant to put on your ski and wander\nforth with no object but that of healthy pleasure. Perhaps you would make\nyour way round the bluff end of the cape and strike southwards. Here you\nmay visit Nelson working with his thermometers and current meters and\nother instruments over a circular hole in the ice, which he keeps open\nfrom day to day by breaking out the 'biscuit' of newly formed ice. He has\nconnected himself with the hut by telephone, and built round himself an\nigloo of drifted snow and the aforesaid 'biscuits,' which effectually\nshelter him from the wind. Or you may meet Meares and Dimitri returning\nwith the dog-teams from a visit to Hut Point. A little farther on the\nsilence is complete. But now your ear catches the metallic scratch of ski\nsticks on hard ice; there is some one else ski-ing over there, it may be\nmany miles away, for sound travels in an amazing way. Every now and then\nthere comes a sharp crack like a pistol shot; it is the ice contracting\nin the glaciers of Erebus, and you know that it is getting colder. Your\nbreath smokes, forming white rime over your face, and ice in your beard;\nif it is very cold you may actually hear it crackle as it freezes in mid\nair!\n\nThese were the days which remain visibly in the mind as the most\nenjoyable during this first winter season. It was all so novel, these\nmuch-dreaded, and amongst us much-derided, terrors of the Long Winter\nNight. The atmosphere is very clear when it is not filled with snow or\nice crystals, and the moonlight lay upon the land so that we could see\nthe main outlines of the Hut Point Peninsula, and even Minna Bluff out on\nthe Barrier ninety miles away. The ice-cliffs of Erebus showed as great\ndark walls, but above them the blue ice of the glaciers gleamed silvery,\nand the steam flowed lazily from the crater carried away in a long line,\nshowing us that the northerly breezes prevailed up there, and were\nstoring up trouble in the south. Sometimes a shooting star would seem to\nfall right into the mountain, and for the most part the Aurora flitted\nuneasily about in the sky.\n\nThe importance of plenty of out-door exercise was generally recognized,\nand our experience showed us that the happiest and healthiest members of\nour party during this first year were those who spent the longest period\nin the fresh air. As a rule we walked and worked and ski-ed alone, not I\nfeel sure because of any individual distaste for the company of our\nfellows but rather because of a general inclination to spend a short\nperiod of the day without company. At least this is certainly true of the\nofficers: I am not so sure about the men. Under the circumstances, the\nonly time in the year that a man could be alone was in his walks abroad\nfrom Winter Quarters, for the hut, of course, was always occupied, and\nwhen sledging this sardine-like existence was continuous night and day.\n\nThere was one regular exception to this rule. Every possible evening,\nthat is to say if it was not blowing a full blizzard, Wilson and Bowers\nwent up the Ramp together 'to read Bertram.' Now this phrase will convey\nlittle meaning without some explanation. I have already spoken of the\nRamp as the steep rubbly slope partly covered by snow and partly by ice\nwhich divided the cape on which we lived from the glaciated slopes of\nErebus. After a breathless scramble up this embankment one came upon a\nbelt of rough boulder-strewn ground from which arose at intervals conical\nmounds, the origin of which puzzled us for many months. At length, by the\nobvious means of cutting a section through one of them, it was proved\nthat there was a solid kenyte lava block in the centre of this cone,\nproving that the whole was formed by the weathering of a single rock.\nThreading your way for some hundreds of yards through this terrain, a\nscramble attended by many slips and falls on a dark night, you reached\nthe first signs of glaciation. A little farther, isolated in the ice\nstream, is another group of debris cones, and on the largest of these we\nplaced meteorological Screen \"B,\" commonly called Bertram. This screen,\ntogether with \"A\" (Algernon) and \"C\" (Clarence), which were in North and\nSouth Bays respectively, were erected by Bowers, who thought, rightly,\nthat they would form an object to which men could guide their walks, and\nthat at the same time the observations of maximum, minimum and present\ntemperatures would be a useful check to the meteorologist when he came to\ncompare them with those taken at the hut. As a matter of fact the book in\nwhich we used to enter these observations shows that the air temperatures\nout on the sea-ice vary considerably from those on the cape, and that the\ntemperatures several hundred feet up on the slopes of Erebus are often\nseveral degrees higher than those taken at sea-level. I believe that much\nof the weather in this part of the world is an intensely local affair,\nand these screens produced useful data.\n\nWilson and Bowers would go up the Ramp when it was blowing and drifting\nfairly hard, so that although the rocks and landmarks immediately round\nthem were visible, all beyond was blotted out. It is quite possible to\nwalk thus among landmarks which you know at a time when it is most unwise\nto go out on to the sea-ice where there are no fixed points to act as a\nguide.\n\nIt was Wilson's pleasant conceit to keep his balaclava rolled up, so that\nhis face was bare, on such occasions, being somewhat proud of the fact\nthat he had not, as yet, been frost-bitten. Imagine our joy when he\nentered the hut one cold windy evening with two white spots on his cheeks\nwhich he vainly tried to hide behind his dogskin mitts.\n\n[Illustration: MCMURDO SOUND--Apsley Cherry-Garrard, del.--Emery Walker\nLtd., Collotypers.]\n\nThe ponies' lunch came at mid-day, when they were given snow to drink and\ncompressed fodder with oats or oil-cake on alternate days to eat, the\nproportion of which was arranged according to the work they were able to\ndo in the present, or expected to do in the future. Our own lunch was\nsoon after one, and a few minutes before that time Hooper's voice would\nbe heard: \"Table please, Mr. Debenham,\" and all writing materials,\ncharts, instruments and books would have to be removed. On Sunday, this\ntable displayed a dark blue cloth, but for meals and at all other times\nit was covered with white oilcloth.\n\nLunch itself was a pleasant meatless meal, consisting of limited bread\nand butter with plenty of jam or cheese, tea or cocoa, the latter being\nundoubtedly a most useful drink in a cold country. Many controversies\nraged over the rival merits of tea and cocoa. Some of us made for\nourselves buttered toast at the galley fire; I must myself confess to a\nweakness for Welsh Rarebit, and others followed my example on cheese days\nin making messes of which we were not a little proud. Scott sat at the\nhead of the table, that is at the east end, but otherwise we all took our\nplaces haphazard from meal to meal as our conversation, or want of it,\nmerited, or as our arrival found a vacant chair. Thus if you felt\ntalkative you might always find a listener in Debenham; if inclined to\nlisten yourself it was only necessary to sit near Taylor or Nelson; if,\non the other hand, you just wanted to be quiet, Atkinson or Oates would,\nprobably, give you a congenial atmosphere.\n\nThere was never any want of conversation, largely due to the fact that no\nconversation was expected: we most of us know the horrible blankness\nwhich comes over our minds when we realize that because we are eating we\nare also supposed to talk, whether we have anything to say or not. It was\nalso due to the more primitive reason that in a company of specialists,\nwhose travels extended over most parts of the earth, and whose subjects\noverlapped and interlocked at so many points, topics of conversation were\nnot only numerous but full of possibilities of expansion. Add to this\nthat from the nature of our work we were probably people of an\ninquisitive turn of mind and wanted to get to the bottom of the subjects\nwhich presented themselves, and you may expect to find, as was in fact\nthe case, an atmosphere of pleasant and quite interesting conversation\nwhich sometimes degenerated into heated and noisy argument.\n\nThe business of eating over, pipes were lit without further formality. I\nmention pipes only because while we had a most bountiful supply of\ntobacco, the kindly present of Mr. Wills, our supply of cigarettes from\nthe same source was purposely limited and only a small quantity were\nlanded, allowing of a ration to such members who wished. Consequently\ncigarettes were an article of some value, and in a land where the\nordinary forms of currency are valueless they became a frequent stake to\nventure when making bets. Indeed, \"I bet you ten cigarettes,\" or \"I bet\nyou a dinner when we get back to London,\" became the most frequent bids\nof the argumentative gambler, occasionally varied when the bettor was\nmore than usually certain of the issue by the offer of a pair of socks.\n\nBy two o'clock we were dispersed once more to our various works and\nduties. If it was bearable outside, the hut would soon be empty save for\nthe cook and a couple of seamen washing up the plates; otherwise every\none went out to make the most of any glimmering of daylight which still\ncame to us from the sun below the northern horizon. And here it may be\nexplained that whereas in England the sun rises more or less in the east,\nis due south at mid-day, and sets in the west, this is not the case in\nthe Antarctic regions. In the latitude in which we now lived the sun is\nat his highest at mid-day in the north, at his lowest at midnight in the\nsouth. As is generally known he remains entirely above the horizon for\nfour months of the summer (October-February) and entirely below the\nhorizon for four months in the winter (April 21-August 21). About\nFebruary 27, the end of summer, he begins to set and rise due south at\nmidnight; the next day he sets a little earlier and dips a little deeper.\nDuring March and April he is going deeper and deeper every day, until, by\nthe middle of April, he is set all the time except for just a peep over\nthe northern horizon at mid-day, which is his last farewell before he\ngoes away.\n\nThe reverse process takes place from August 21 onwards. On this date the\nsun just peeped above the sea to the north of our hut. The next day he\nrose a little higher and longer, and in a few weeks he was rising well in\nthe east and sinking behind the Western Mountains. But he did not stop\nthere. Soon he was rising in the S.E. until in the latter days of\nSeptember he never rose, for he never set; but circled round us by day\nand night. On Midsummer Day (December 21) at the South Pole the sun\ncircles round for twenty-four hours without changing his altitude for one\nminute of a degree, but elsewhere he is always rising in the sky until\nmid-day in the north and falling from that time until midnight in the\nsouth.\n\nOften, far too often, it was blizzing, and it was impossible to go out\nexcept into the camp to take the observations, to care for the dogs, to\nget ice for water or to bring in stores. Even a short excursion of a few\nyards had to be made with great care under such circumstances, and\ncertainly no one went outside more than was necessary, if only because\none was obliged to dig the accumulated drift from the door before it was\npossible to proceed. Blizzard or no blizzard, most men were back in the\nhut soon after four, and from then until 6.30 worked steadily at their\njobs. As supper time approached some kindly-disposed person would sit\ndown and play on the Broadwood pianola which was one of our blessings,\nand so it was that we came to supper with good tempers as well as keen\nappetites.\n\nSoup, in which the flavour of tomatoes occurred all too frequently,\nfollowed by seal or penguin, and twice a week by New Zealand mutton, with\ntinned vegetables, formed the basis of our meal, and this was followed by\na pudding. We drank lime juice and water which sometimes included a\nsuspicious penguin flavour derived from the ice slopes from which our\nwater was quarried.\n\nDuring our passage out to New Zealand in the ship (or as Meares always\ninsisted on calling her, the steamer) it was our pleasant custom to have\na glass of port or a liqueur after dinner. Alas, we had this no longer:\nafter leaving New Zealand space allowed of little wine being carried in\nthe Terra Nova, even if the general medical opinion of the expedition had\nnot considered its presence undesirable. We had, however, a few cases for\nspecial festivals, as well as some excellent liqueur brandy which was\ncarried as medical comforts on our sledge journeys. Any officer who\nallowed the distribution of this luxury on nearing the end of a journey\nbecame extremely popular.\n\nLack of wine probably led to the suspension of a custom which had\nprevailed on the Terra Nova, namely, the drinking of the old toast of\nSaturday night, \"Sweethearts and wives; may our sweethearts become our\nwives, and our wives remain our sweethearts,\" and that more appropriate\n(in our case) toast of Sunday, namely, \"absent friends.\" We had but few\nmarried officers, though I must say most survivors of the expedition\nhurried to remedy this single state of affairs when they returned to\ncivilization. Only two of them are unmarried now. Most of them will\nprobably make a success of it, for the good Arctic explorer has most of\nthe defects and qualities of a good husband.\n\nOn the top of the pianola, close to the head of the table, lived the\ngramophone; and under the one looking-glass we possessed, which hung on\nthe bulkhead of Scott's cubicle, was a home-made box with shelves on\nwhich lay our records. It was usual to start the gramophone after dinner,\nand its value may be imagined. It is necessary to be cut off from\ncivilization and all that it means to enable you to realize fully the\npower music has to recall the past, or the depths of meaning in it to\nsoothe the present and give hope for the future. We had also records of\ngood classical music, and the kindly-disposed individual who played them\nhad his reward in the pleasant atmosphere of homeliness which made itself\nfelt. After dinner had been cleared away, some men sat on at the table\noccupied with books and games. Others dispersed to various jobs. In the\nmatter of games it was noticeable that one would have its vogue and yield\nplace to another without any apparent reason. For a few weeks it might be\nchess, which would then yield its place to draughts and backgammon, and\nagain come into favour. It is a remarkable fact that, though we had\nplaying cards with us none of our company appeared desirous to use them.\nIn fact I cannot remember seeing a game of cards played except in the\nship on the voyage from England.\n\n[Illustration: THE SEA'S FRINGE OF ICE]\n\nWith regard to books we were moderately well provided with good modern\nfiction, and very well provided with such authors as Thackeray, Charlotte\nBrontë, Bulwer-Lytton and Dickens. With all respect to the kind givers\nof these books, I would suggest that the literature most acceptable to\nus in the circumstances under which we did most of our reading, that is\nin Winter Quarters, was the best of the more recent novels, such as\nBarrie, Kipling, Merriman and Maurice Hewlett. We certainly should have\ntaken with us as much of Shaw, Barker, Ibsen and Wells as we could lay\nour hands on, for the train of ideas started by these works and the\ndiscussions to which they would have given rise would have been a godsend\nto us in our isolated circumstances. The one type of book in which we\nwere rich was Arctic and Antarctic travel. We had a library of these\ngiven to us by Sir Lewis Beaumont and Sir Albert Markham which was very\ncomplete. They were extremely popular, though it is probably true that\nthese are books which you want rather to read on your return than when\nyou are actually experiencing a similar life. They were used extensively\nin discussions or lectures on such polar subjects as clothing, food\nrations, and the building of igloos, while we were constantly referring\nto them on specific points and getting useful hints, such as the use of\nan inner lining to our tents, and the mechanism of a blubber stove.\n\nI have already spoken of the importance of maps and books of reference,\nand these should include a good encyclopaedia and dictionaries, English,\nLatin and Greek. Oates was generally deep in Napier's History of the\nPeninsular War, and some of us found Herbert Paul's History of Modern\nEngland a great stand-by. Most of us managed to find room in our personal\ngear when sledging for some book which did not weigh much and yet would\nlast. Scott took some Browning on the Polar Journey, though I only saw\nhim reading it once; Wilson took Maud and In Memoriam; Bowers always had\nso many weights to tally and observations to record on reaching camp that\nI feel sure he took no reading matter. Bleak House was the most\nsuccessful book I ever took away sledging, though a volume of poetry was\nuseful, because it gave one something to learn by heart and repeat during\nthe blank hours of the daily march, when the idle mind is all too apt to\nthink of food in times of hunger, or possibly of purely imaginary\ngrievances, which may become distorted into real foundations of discord\nunder the abnormal strain of living for months in the unrelieved company\nof three other men. If your companions have much the same tastes as\nyourself it is best to pool your allowance of weights and take one book\nwhich will offer a wide field of thought and discussion. I have heard\nScott and Wilson bless the thought which led them to take Darwin's Origin\nof Species on their first Southern Journey. Such is the object of your\nsledging book, but you often want the book which you read for half an\nhour before you go to sleep at Winter Quarters to take you into the\nfrivolous fripperies of modern social life which you may not know and may\nnever wish to know, but which it is often pleasant to read about, and\nnever so much so as when its charms are so remote as to be entirely\ntantalizing.\n\nScott, who always amazed me by the amount of work he got through without\nany apparent effort, was essentially the driving force of the expedition:\nin the hut quietly organizing, working out masses of figures, taking the\ngreatest interest in the scientific work of the station, and perhaps\nturning out, quite by the way, an elaborate paper on an abstruse problem\nin the neighbourhood; fond of his pipe and a good book, Browning, Hardy\n(Tess was one of his favourites), Galsworthy. Barrie was one of his\ngreatest friends.\n\nHe was eager to accept suggestions if they were workable, and always keen\nto sift even the most unlikely theories if by any means they could be\nshaped to the desired end: a quick and modern brain which he applied with\nthoroughness to any question of practice or theory. Essentially an\nattractive personality, with strong likes and dislikes, he excelled in\nmaking his followers his friends by a few words of sympathy or praise: I\nhave never known anybody, man or woman, who could be so attractive when\nhe chose.\n\nSledging he went harder than any man of whom I have ever heard. Men never\nrealized Scott until they had gone sledging with him. On our way up the\nBeardmore Glacier we were going at top pressure some seventeen hours out\nof the twenty-four, and when we turned out in the morning we felt as\nthough we had only just turned in. By lunch time we felt that it was\nimpossible to get through in the afternoon a similar amount of work to\nthat which we had done in the morning. A cup of tea and two biscuits\nworked wonders, and the first two hours of the afternoon's march went\npretty well, indeed they were the best hours' marching of the day; but by\nthe time we had been going some 4½ or 5 hours we were watching Scott for\nthat glance to right and left which betokened the search for a good\ncamping site. \"Spell oh!\" Scott would cry, and then \"How's the enemy,\nTitus?\" to Oates, who would hopefully reply that it was, say, seven\no'clock. \"Oh, well, I think we'll go on a little bit more,\" Scott would\nsay. \"Come along!\" It might be an hour or more before we halted and made\nour camp: sometimes a blizzard had its silver lining. Scott could not\nwait. However welcome a blizzard could be to tired bodies (I speak only\nof summer sledging), to Scott himself any delay was intolerable. And it\nis hard to realize how difficult waiting may be to one in a responsible\nposition. It was our simple job to follow, to get up when we were roused,\nto pull our hardest, to do our special work as thoroughly and quickly as\npossible; it was Scott who had to organize distances and weights and\nfood, as well as do the same physical work as ourselves. In sledging\nresponsibility and physical work are combined to an extent seldom if ever\nfound elsewhere.\n\nHis was a subtle character, full of lights and shades.\n\nEngland knows Scott as a hero; she has little idea of him as a man. He\nwas certainly the most dominating character in our not uninteresting\ncommunity: indeed, there is no doubt that he would carry weight in any\ngathering of human beings. But few who knew him realized how shy and\nreserved the man was, and it was partly for this reason that he so often\nlaid himself open to misunderstanding.\n\nAdd to this that he was sensitive, femininely sensitive, to a degree\nwhich might be considered a fault, and it will be clear that leadership\nto such a man may be almost a martyrdom, and that the confidence so\nnecessary between leader and followers, which must of necessity be based\nupon mutual knowledge and trust, becomes in itself more difficult. It\nwanted an understanding man to appreciate Scott quickly; to others\nknowledge came with experience.\n\nHe was not a _very_ strong man physically, and was in his youth a weakly\nchild, at one time not expected to live. But he was well proportioned,\nwith broad shoulders and a good chest, a stronger man than Wilson, weaker\nthan Bowers or Seaman Evans. He suffered from indigestion, and told me at\nthe top of the Beardmore that he never expected to go on during the first\nstage of the ascent.\n\nTemperamentally he was a weak man, and might very easily have been an\nirritable autocrat. As it was he had moods and depressions which might\nlast for weeks, and of these there is ample evidence in his diary. The\nman with the nerves gets things done, but sometimes he has a terrible\ntime in doing them. He cried more easily than any man I have ever known.\n\nWhat pulled Scott through was character, sheer good grain, which ran over\nand under and through his weaker self and clamped it together. It would\nbe stupid to say he had all the virtues: he had, for instance, little\nsense of humour, and he was a bad judge of men. But you have only to read\none page of what he wrote towards the end to see something of his sense\nof justice. For him justice was God. Indeed I think you must read all\nthose pages; and if you have read them once, you will probably read them\nagain. You will not need much imagination to see what manner of man he\nwas.\n\nAnd notwithstanding the immense fits of depression which attacked him,\nScott was the strongest combination of a strong mind in a strong body\nthat I have ever known. And this because he was so weak! Naturally so\npeevish, highly strung, irritable, depressed and moody. Practically such\na conquest of himself, such vitality, such push and determination, and\nwithal in himself such personal and magnetic charm. He was naturally an\nidle man, he has told us so;[134] he had been a poor man, and he had a\nhorror of leaving those dependent upon him in difficulties. You may read\nit over and over again in his last letters and messages.[135]\n\nHe will go down to history as the Englishman who conquered the South Pole\nand who died as fine a death as any man has had the honour to die. His\ntriumphs are many--but the Pole was not by any means the greatest of\nthem. Surely the greatest was that by which he conquered his weaker self,\nand became the strong leader whom we went to follow and came to love.\n\n * * * * *\n\nScott had under him this first year in his Main Party a total of 15\nofficers and 9 men. These officers may be divided into three executive\nofficers and twelve scientific staff, but the distinction is very rough,\ninasmuch as a scientist such as Wilson was every bit as executive as\nanybody else, and the executive officers also did much scientific work. I\nwill try here briefly to give the reader some idea of the personality and\nactivities of these men as they work any ordinary day in the hut. It\nshould be noticed that not all the men we had with us were brought to do\nsledging work. Some were chosen rather for their scientific knowledge\nthan for their physical or other fitness for sledging. The regular\nsledgers in this party of officers were Scott, Wilson, Evans, Bowers,\nOates (ponies), Meares (dogs), Atkinson (surgeon), Wright (physicist),\nTaylor (physiographer), Debenham (geologist), Gran and myself, while Day\nwas to drive his motors as far as they would go on the Polar Journey.\nThis leaves Simpson, who was the meteorologist and whose observations had\nof necessity to be continuous; Nelson, whose observations into marine\nbiology, temperatures of sea, salinity, currents and tides came under the\nsame heading; and Ponting, whose job was photography, and whose success\nin this art everybody recognizes.\n\nHowever much of good I may write of Wilson, his many friends in England,\nthose who served with him on the ship or in the hut, and most of all\nthose who had the good fortune to sledge with him (for it is sledging\nwhich is far the greatest test) will all be dissatisfied, for I know that\nI cannot do justice to his value. If you knew him you could not like him:\nyou simply had to love him. Bill was of the salt of the earth. If I were\nasked what quality it was before others that made him so useful, and so\nlovable, I think I should answer that it was because he never for one\nmoment thought of himself. In this respect also Bowers, of whom I will\nspeak in a moment, was most extraordinary, and in passing may I be\nallowed to say that this is a most necessary characteristic of a good\nAntarctic traveller? We had many such, officers and seamen, and the\nsuccess of the expedition was in no small measure due to the general and\nunselfish way in which personal likes and dislikes, wishes or tastes were\nungrudgingly subordinated to the common weal. Wilson and Pennell set an\nexample of expedition first and the rest nowhere which others followed\nungrudgingly: it pulled us through more than one difficulty which might\nhave led to friction.\n\nWilson was a man of many parts. He was Scott's right-hand man, he was the\nexpedition's Chief of the Scientific Staff: he was a doctor of St.\nGeorge's Hospital, and a zoologist specializing in vertebrates. His\npublished work on whales, penguins and seals contained in the Scientific\nReport of the Discovery Expedition is still the best available, and makes\nexcellent reading even to the non-scientist. On the outward journey of\nthe Terra Nova he was still writing up his work for the Royal Commission\non Grouse Disease, the published report of which he never lived to see.\nBut those who knew him best will probably remember Wilson by his\nwater-colour paintings rather than by any other form of his many-sided\nwork.\n\nAs a boy his father sent him away on rambling holidays, the only\ncondition being that he should return with a certain number of drawings.\nI have spoken of the drawings which he made when sledging or when\notherwise engaged away from painting facilities, as at Hut Point. He\nbrought back to Winter Quarters a note-book filled with such sketches of\noutlines and colours: of sunsets behind the Western Mountains: of lights\nreflected in the freezing sea or in the glass houses of the ice foot: of\nthe steam clouds on Erebus by day and of the Aurora Australis by night.\nNext door to Scott he rigged up for himself a table, consisting of two\nvenesta cases on end supporting a large drawing-board some four feet\nsquare. On this he set to work systematically to paint the effects which\nhe had seen and noted. He painted with his paper wet, and necessarily\ntherefore, he worked quickly. An admirer of Ruskin, he wished to paint\nwhat he saw as truly as possible. If he failed to catch the effect he\nwished, he tore up the picture however beautiful the result he had\nobtained. There is no doubt as to the faithfulness of his colouring: the\npictures recalled then and will still recall now in intimate detail the\neffects which we saw together. As to the accuracy of his drawing it is\nsufficient to say that in the Discovery Expedition Scott wrote on his\nSouthern Journey:\n\n\"Wilson is the most indefatigable person. When it is fine and clear, at\nthe end of our fatiguing days he will spend two or three hours seated in\nthe door of the tent, sketching each detail of the splendid mountainous\ncoast-scene to the west. His sketches are most astonishingly accurate; I\nhave tested his proportions by actual angular measurement and found them\ncorrect.\"[136]\n\nIn addition to the drawings of land, pack, icebergs and Barrier, the\nprimary object of which was scientific and geographical, Wilson has left\na number of paintings of atmospheric phenomena which are not only\nscientifically accurate but are also exceedingly beautiful. Of such are\nthe records of auroral displays, parhelions, paraselene, lunar halos, fog\nbows, irridescent clouds, refracted images of mountains and mirage\ngenerally. If you look at a picture of a parhelion by Wilson not only can\nyou be sure that the mock suns, circles and shafts appeared in the sky as\nthey are shown on paper, but you can also rest assured that the number of\ndegrees between, say, the sun and the outer ring of light were in fact\nsuch as he has represented them. You can also be certain in looking at\nhis pictures that if cirrus cloud is shown, then cirrus and not stratus\ncloud was in the sky: if it is not shown, then the sky was clear. It is\naccuracy such as this which gives an exceptional value to work viewed\nfrom a scientific standpoint. Mention should also be made of the\npaintings and drawings made constantly by Wilson for the various\nspecialists on the expedition whenever they wished for colour records of\ntheir specimens; in this connection the paintings of fish and various\nparasites are especially valuable.\n\nI am not specially qualified to judge Wilson from the artistic point of\nview. But if you want accuracy of drawing, truth of colour, and a\nreproduction of the soft and delicate atmospheric effects which obtain in\nthis part of the world, then you have them here. Whatever may be said of\nthe painting as such, it is undeniable that an artist of this type is of\ninestimable value to an expedition which is doing scientific and\ngeographical work in a little-known part of the earth.\n\nWilson himself set a low value on his artistic capacity. We used to\ndiscuss what Turner would have produced in a land which offered colour\neffects of such beauty. If we urged him to try and paint some peculiar\neffect and he felt that to do so was beyond his powers he made no scruple\nof saying so. His colour is clear, his brush-work clean: and he handled\nsledging subjects with the vigour of a professional who knew all there\nwas to be known about a sledging life.\n\n[Illustration: LEADING PONIES ON THE BARRIER--E. A. Wilson, del.]\n\nScott and Wilson worked hand in hand to further the scientific objects of\nthe expedition. For Scott, though no specialist in any one branch, had a\nmost genuine love of science. \"Science--the rock foundation of all\neffort,\" he wrote; and whether discussing ice problems with Wright,\nmeteorology with Simpson, or geology with Taylor, he showed not only a\nmind which was receptive and keen to learn, but a knowledge which was\nquick to offer valuable suggestions. I remember Pennell condemning\nanything but scientific learning in dealing with the problems round us;\n'no guesswork' was his argument. But he emphatically made an exception of\nScott, who had an uncanny knack of hitting upon a solution. Over and\nover again in his diary we can read of the interest he took in pure and\napplied science, and it is doubtful whether this side of an expedition in\nhigh northern or southern latitudes has ever been more fortunate in their\nleader.\n\nWilson's own share in the scientific results is more obvious because he\nwas the director of the work. But no published reports will give an\nadequate idea of the ability he showed in co-ordinating the various\ninterests of a varied community, nor of the tact he displayed in dealing\nwith the difficulties which arose. Above all his judgment was excellent,\nand Scott as well as the rest of us relied upon him to a very great\nextent. The value of judgment in a land where a wrong decision may mean\ndisaster as well as loss of life is beyond all price; weather in which\nchanges are most sudden is a case in point, also the state of sea-ice,\nthe direction to be followed in difficult country when sledging, the best\nway of taking crevassed areas when they must be crossed, and all the ways\nby which the maximum of result may be combined with the minimum of danger\nin a land where Nature is sometimes almost too big an enemy to fight: all\nthis wants judgment, and if possible experience. Wilson could supply\nboth, for his experience was as wide as that of Scott, and I have\nconstantly known Scott change his mind after a talk with Bill. For the\nrest I give quotations from Scott's diary:\n\n\"He has had a hand in almost every lecture given, and has been consulted\nin almost every effort which has been made towards the solution of the\npractical or theoretical problems of our Polar world.\"[137]\n\nAgain:\n\n\"Words must always fail me when I talk of Bill Wilson. I believe he\nreally is the finest character I ever met--the closer one gets to him the\nmore there is to admire. Every quality is so solid and dependable; cannot\nyou imagine how that counts down here? Whatever the matter, one knows\nBill will be sound, shrewdly practical, intensely loyal and quite\nunselfish. Add to this a wider knowledge of persons and things than is\nat first guessable, a quiet vein of humour and really consummate tact,\nand you have some idea of his values. I think he is the most popular\nmember of the party, and that is saying much.\"[138]\n\nAnd at the end, when Scott himself lay dying, he wrote to Mrs. Wilson:\n\n\"I can do no more to comfort you, than to tell you that he died as he\nlived, a brave, true man--the best of comrades and staunchest of\nfriends.\"[139]\n\nPhysically Scott had been a delicate boy but developed into a strong man,\n5 feet 9 inches in height, 11 stone 6 lbs. in weight, with a chest\nmeasurement of 39¼ inches. Wilson was not a particularly strong man. On\nleaving with the Discovery he was but lately cured of consumption, yet he\nwent with Scott to his farthest South, and helped to get Shackleton back\nalive. Shackleton owed his life to those two. Wilson was of a slimmer,\nmore athletic build, a great walker, 5 feet 10½ inches in height, 11\nstones in weight, with a chest measurement of 36 inches. He was an ideal\nexample of my contention, which I believe can be proved many times over\nto be a fact, that it is not strength of body but rather strength of will\nwhich carries a man farthest where mind and body are taxed at the same\ntime to their utmost limit. Scott was 43 years of age at his death, and\nWilson 39.\n\nBowers was of a very different build. Aged 28, he was only 5 feet 4\ninches in height while his chest measurement (which I give more as a\ngeneral guide to his physique than for any other reason) was 40 inches,\nand his weight 12 stones. He was recommended to Scott by Sir Clements\nMarkham, who was dining one day with Captain Wilson-Barker on the\nWorcester, on which ship Bowers was trained. Bowers was then home from\nIndia, and the talk turned to the Antarctic. Wilson-Barker turned to Sir\nClements in the course of conversation and alluding to Bowers said: \"Here\nis a man who will be leading one of those expeditions some day.\"\n\nHe lived a rough life after passing from the Worcester into the merchant\nservice, sailing five times round the world in the Loch Torridon. Thence\nhe passed into the service of the Royal Indian Marine, commanded a river\ngunboat on the Irrawaddy, and afterwards served on H.M.S. Fox, where he\nhad considerable experience, often in open boats, preventing the\ngun-running which was carried on by the Afghans in the Persian Gulf.\n\nThence he came to us.\n\nIt is at any rate a curious fact, and it may be a significant one, that\nBowers, who enjoyed a greater resistance to cold than any man on this\nexpedition, joined it direct from one of the hottest places on the globe.\nMy knowledge is insufficient to say whether it is possible that any trace\ncan be found here of cause and effect, especially since the opposite\nseems to be the more common experience, in that such people as return\nfrom India to England generally find the English winter trying. I give\nthe fact for what it may be worth, remarking only that the cold of an\nEnglish winter is generally damp, while that of the Antarctic is dry, so\nfar at any rate as the atmosphere is concerned. Bowers himself always\nprofessed the greatest indifference not only to cold, but also to heat,\nand his indifference was not that of a 'poseur,' as many experiences will\nshow.\n\nAt the same time he was temperamentally one who refused to admit\ndifficulties. Indeed, if he did not actually welcome them he greeted them\nwith scorn, and in scorning went far to master them. Scott believed that\ndifficulties were made to be overcome: Bowers certainly believed that he\nwas the man to overcome them. This self-confidence was based on a very\ndeep and broad religious feeling, and carried conviction with it. The men\nswore by him both on the ship and ashore. \"He's all right,\" was their\njudgment of his seamanship, which was admirable. \"I like being with\nBirdie, because I always know where I am,\" was the remark made to me by\nan officer one evening as we pitched the tent. We had just been spending\nsome time in picking up a depôt which a less able man might well have\nmissed.\n\nAs he was one of the two or three greatest friends of my life I find it\nhard to give the reader a mental picture of Birdie Bowers which will not\nappear extravagant. There were times when his optimism appeared forced\nand formal though I believe it was not really so: there were times when I\nhave almost hated him for his infernal cheerfulness. To those accustomed\nto judge men by the standards of their fashionable and corseted\ndrawing-rooms Bowers appeared crude. \"You couldn't kill that man if you\ntook a pole-axe to him,\" was the comment of a New Zealander at a dance at\nChristchurch. Such men may be at a discount in conventional life; but\ngive me a snowy ice-floe waving about on the top of a black swell, a ship\nthrown aback, a sledge-party almost shattered, or one that has just upset\ntheir supper on to the floorcloth of the tent (which is much the same\nthing), and I will lie down and cry for Bowers to come and lead me to\nfood and safety.\n\nThose whom the gods love die young. The gods loved him, if indeed it be\nbenevolent to show your favourites a clear, straight, shining path of\nlife, with plenty of discomfort and not a little pain, but with few\ndoubts and no fears. Browning might well have had Bowers in mind when he\nwrote of\n\n One who never turned his back, but marched breast forward;\n Never doubted clouds would break;\n Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph;\n Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better,\n Sleep to wake.\n\nThere was nothing subtle about him. He was transparently simple,\nstraightforward and unselfish. His capacity for work was prodigious, and\nwhen his own work happened to take less than his full time he\ncharacteristically found activity in serving a scientist or exercising an\nanimal. So he used to help to send up balloons with self-recording\ninstruments attached to them, and track the threads which led to them\nwhen detached. He was responsible for putting up the three outlying\nmeteorological screens and read them more often than anybody else. At\ntimes he looked after some of the dogs because at the moment there was\nnobody else whose proper job it happened to be, and he took a particular\nfancy to one of our strongest huskies called Krisravitza, which is the\nRussian (so I'm told) for 'most beautiful.' This fancy originated in the\nfact that to Kris, as the most truculent of our untamed devils, fell a\nlarge share of well-deserved punishment. A living thing in trouble be it\ndog or man was something to be helped. Being the smallest man in the\nparty he schemed to have allotted to him the largest pony available both\nfor the Depôt and Polar Journeys. Their exercise, when he succeeded, was\na matter for experiment, for his knowledge of horses was as limited as\nhis love of animals was intense. He started to exercise his second pony\n(for the first was lost on the floe) by riding him. \"I'll soon get used\nto him,\" he said one day when Victor had just deposited him in the\ntide-crack, \"to say nothing of his getting used to me,\" he added in a\nmore subdued voice.\n\nThis was open-air work, and as such more congenial than that which had to\nbe done inside the hut. But his most important work was indoors, and he\nbrought to it just the same restless enthusiasm which allowed no leisure\nfor reading or relaxation.\n\nHe joined as one of the ship's officers in London. Given charge of the\nstores, the way in which he stowed the ship aroused the admiration of\neven the stevedores, especially when he fell down the main hatch one\nmorning on to the pig-iron below, recovered consciousness in about half a\nminute, and continued work for the rest of the day as though nothing had\nhappened.\n\nAs the voyage out proceeded it became obvious that his knowledge of the\nstores and undefeatable personality would be of great value to the shore\nparty, and it was decided that he should land, to his great delight. He\nwas personally responsible for all food supplies, whether for home\nconsumption or for sledging, for all sledging stores and the distribution\nof weights, the loading of sledges, the consumption of coal, the issue of\nclothing, bosun's stores, and carpenter's stores. Incidentally the keeper\nof stores wanted a very exact knowledge of the cases which contained\nthem, for the drifts of snow soon buried them as they lay in the camp\noutside.\n\nAs time proved his capacity Scott left one thing after another in\nBowers' hands. Scott was a leader of men, and it is a good quality in\nsuch to delegate work from themselves on to those who prove their power\nto shoulder the burden. Undoubtedly Bowers saved Scott a great deal of\nwork, and gave him time which he might not otherwise have been able to\nspare to interest himself in the scientific work of the station, greatly\nto its benefit, and do a good deal of useful writing. The two ways in\nwhich Bowers helped Scott most this winter were in the preparation of the\nplans and the working out of the weights of the Southern Journey, which\nshall be discussed later, and in the routine work of the station, for\nwhich he was largely responsible, and which ran so smoothly that I am\nunable to tell the reader how the stores were issued, or the dinner\nsettled, by what rule the working parties for fetching ice for water and\nother kindred jobs about the camp were ordered. They just happened, and I\ndon't know how. I only know that Bowers had the bunk above mine in the\nhut, and that when I was going to sleep he was generally standing on a\nchair and using his own bunk as a desk, and I conclude from the numerous\nlists of stores and weights which are now in my hands that these were\nbeing produced. Anyway the job was done, and the fact that we knew\nnothing about it goes far to prove how efficiently it was carried\nthrough.\n\nFor him difficulties simply did not exist. I have never known a more\nbuoyant, virile nature. Scott's writings abound in references to the\nextraordinary value he placed upon his help, and after the share which he\ntook in the Depôt and Winter Journeys it was clear that he would probably\nbe taken in the Polar Party, as indeed proved to be the case. No man of\nthat party better deserved his place. \"I believe he is the hardest\ntraveller that ever undertook a Polar Journey, as well as one of the most\nundaunted.\"[140]\n\nThe standard is high.\n\n[Illustration: FROZEN SEA AND CLIFFS OF ICE]\n\nBowers gave us two of our best lectures, the first on the Evolution of\nSledge Foods, at the end of which he discussed our own rations on the\nDepôt Journey, and made suggestions which he had worked out\nscientifically for those of the Polar Journey. His arguments were sound\nenough to disarm the hostility if not to convert to his opinions at least\none scientist who had come to hear him strongly of opinion that an\nuntrained man should not discuss so complex a subject. The second\nlecture, on the Evolution of Polar Clothing, was also the fruit of much\nwork. The general conclusion come to (and this was after the Winter\nJourney) was that our own clothing and equipment could not be bettered in\nany important respect, though it must be always understood that the\nexpedition wore wind-proof clothing and not furs, except for hands and\nfeet. When man-hauling, wind-proof, I am convinced, cannot be improved\nupon, but for dog-driving in cold weather I suspect that furs may be\nbetter.\n\nThe table was cleared after supper and we sat round it for these lectures\nthree times a week. There was no compulsion about them, and the seamen\nonly turned up for those which especially interested them, such as\nMeares' vivid account of his journeyings on the Eastern or Chinese\nborderland of Thibet. This land is inhabited by the 'Eighteen Tribes,'\nthe original inhabitants of Thibet who were driven out by the present\ninhabitants, and Meares told us chiefly of the Lolos who killed his\ncompanion Brook after having persuaded him that they were friendly and\nanxious to help him. \"He had no pictures and very makeshift maps, yet he\nheld us really entranced for nearly two hours by the sheer interest of\nhis adventures. The spirit of the wanderer is in Meares' blood: he has no\nhappiness but in the wild places of the earth. I have never met so\nextreme a type. Even now he is looking forward to getting away by himself\nto Hut Point, tired already of our scant measure of civilization.\"[141]\n\nThree lectures a week were too many in the opinion of the majority. The\nsecond winter with our very reduced company we had two a week, and I feel\nsure that this was an improvement. No officer nor seaman, however, could\nhave had too many of Ponting's lectures, which gave us glimpses into\nmany lands illustrated by his own inimitable slides. Thus we lived every\nnow and then for a short hour in Burmah, India or Japan, in scenes of\ntrees and flowers and feminine charm which were the very antithesis of\nour present situation, and we were all the better for it. Ponting also\nillustrated the subjects of other lectures with home-made slides of\nphotographs taken during the autumn or from printed books. But for the\nmost part the lecturers were perforce content with designs and plans,\ndrawn on paper and pinned one on the top of the other upon a large\ndrawing-board propped up on the table and torn off sheet by sheet.\n\nFrom the practical point of view the most interesting evening to us was\nthat on which Scott produced the Plan of the Southern Journey. The reader\nmay ask why this was not really prepared until the winter previous to the\njourney itself, and the answer clearly is that it was impossible to\narrange more than a rough idea until the autumn sledging had taught its\nlesson in food, equipment, relative reliability of dogs, ponies and men,\nand until the changes and chances of our life showed exactly what\ntransport would be available for the following sledging season. Thus it\nwas with lively anticipation that we sat down on May 8, an advisory\ncommittee as it were, to hear and give our suggestions on the scheme\nwhich Scott had evolved in the early weeks of the winter after the\nadventures of the Depôt Journey and the loss of six ponies.\n\nIt was on just such a winter night, too, that Scott read his interesting\npaper on the Ice Barrier and Inland Ice which will probably form the\nbasis for all future work on these subjects. The Barrier, he maintained,\nis probably afloat, and covers at least five times the extent of the\nNorth Sea with an average thickness of some 400 feet, though it has only\nbeen possible to get the very roughest of levels. According to the\nmovement of a depôt laid in the Discovery days the Barrier moved 608\nyards towards the open Ross Sea in 13½ months. It must be admitted that\nthe inclination of the ice-sheet is not sufficient to cause this, and the\nold idea that the glacier streams flowing down from Inland Plateau\nprovide the necessary impetus is imperfect. It was Simpson's suggestion\nthat \"the deposition of snow on the Barrier leads to an expansion due to\nthe increase of weight.\" Some admittedly vague ideas as to the extent and\ncharacter of the inland ice-sheet ended a clever and convincing paper\nwhich contained a lot of good reasoning.\n\nSimpson proved an excellent lecturer, and in meteorology and in the\nexplanation of the many instruments with which his corner of the hut was\nfull he possessed subjects which interested and concerned everybody.\nNelson on Biological Problems and Taylor on Physiography were always\ninteresting. \"Taylor, I dreamt of your lecture last night. How could I\nlive so long in the world and not know something of so fascinating a\nsubject!\" Thus Scott on the morning following one of these lectures.[142]\nWright on Ice Problems, Radium, and the Origin of Matter had highly\ntechnical subjects which left many of us somewhat befogged. But Atkinson\non Scurvy had an audience each member of which felt that he had a\npersonal interest in the subject under discussion. Indeed one of his\nhearers was to suffer the advanced stage of this dread disease within six\nmonths. Atkinson inclined to Almroth Wright's theory that scurvy is due\nto an acid intoxication of the blood caused by bacteria. He described the\nlitmus-paper test which was practised on us monthly, and before and after\nsledge journeys. In this the blood of each individual is drawn and\nvarious strengths of dilute sulphuric acid are added to it until it is\nneutralized, the healthy man showing normal 30 to 50, while the man with\nscorbutic signs will be normal 50 to 90 according to the stage to which\nhe has reached. The only thing which is certain to stop scurvy is fresh\nvegetables: fresh meat when life is otherwise under extreme conditions\nwill not do so, an instance being the Siege of Paris when they had plenty\nof horse meat. In 1795 voyages were being ruined by scurvy and Anson lost\n300 out of 500 men, but in that year the first discoveries were made and\nlime-juice was introduced by Blaine. From this time scurvy practically\ndisappeared from the Navy, and there was little scurvy in Nelson's days;\nbut the reason is not clear, since, according to modern research,\nlime-juice only helps to prevent it. It continued in the Merchant\nService, and in a decade from about 1865 some 400 cases were admitted\ninto the Dreadnought Hospital, whereas in the decade 1887 to 1896 there\nwere only 38 cases. We had, at Cape Evans, a salt of sodium to be used to\nalkalize the blood as an experiment, if necessity arose. Darkness, cold,\nand hard work are in Atkinson's opinion important causes of scurvy.\n\nNansen was an advocate of variety of diet as being anti-scorbutic, and\nScott recalled a story told him by Nansen which he had never understood.\nIt appeared that some men had eaten tins of tainted food. Some of it was\nslightly tainted, some of it was really bad. They rejected the really bad\nones, and ate those only which were slightly tainted. \"And of course,\"\nsaid Nansen, \"they should have eaten the worst.\"\n\nI have since asked Nansen about this story. He tells me that he must have\nbeen referring to the crew of the Windward, the ship of the\nJackson-Harmsworth Expedition to Franz Josef Land in 1894-97. The crew of\nthis ship, which was travelling to and from civilization, got scurvy,\nthough the land party kept healthy. Of this Jackson writes: \"In the case\nof the crew of the Windward I fear that there was considerable\ncarelessness in the use of tinned meats that were not free from taint,\nalthough tins quite gone were rejected.... We [on shore] largely used\nfresh bear's meat, and the crew of the Windward were also allowed as much\nas they could be induced to eat. They, however, preferred tinned meat\nseveral days a week to a diet of bear's meat alone; and some of the crew\nhad such a prejudice against bear's meat as to refuse to eat it at\nall.\"[143]\n\nOf course tainted food should not have been eaten at all, but if it had\nto be eaten, then, according to Nansen, the ptomaines which cause scurvy\nin the earlier stages of decomposition are destroyed by the ferment which\nforms in the later stages. They should therefore have taken the worst\ntins, if any at all.\n\nWilson was strongly of opinion that fresh meat alone would stop scurvy:\non the Discovery seal meat cured it. As to scurvy on Scott's Discovery\nSouthern Journey, he made light of it: however, during the Winter Journey\nI remember Wilson stating that Shackleton several times fell in a faint\nas he got outside the tent, and he seems to have been seriously ill:\nWilson knew that he himself had scurvy some time before the others knew\nit, because the discoloration of his gums did not show in front for some\ntime. He did not think their dogs on that journey had scurvy, but\nptomaine poisoning from fish which had travelled through the tropics. He\nwas of opinion that on returning from sledge journeys on the Discovery\nthey had wrongly attributed to scurvy such symptoms as rash on the body,\nswollen legs and ankles, which were rather the result of excessive\nfatigue. I may add that we had these signs on our return from the Winter\nJourney.\n\nThen there were lectures on Geology by Debenham, on birds and beasts and\nalso on Sketching by Wilson, on Surveying by Evans: but perhaps no\nlecture remains more vividly in my memory than that given by Oates on\nwhat _we_ called 'The Mismanagement of Horses.' Of course to all of us\nwho were relying upon the ponies for the first stage of the Southern\nJourney the subject was of interest as well as utility, but the greater\nshare of interest centred upon the lecturer, for it was certainly\nsupposed that taciturn Titus could not have concealed about his person\nthe gift of the gab, and it was as certain as it could be that the whole\nbusiness was most distasteful to him. Imagine our delight when he proved\nto have an elaborate discourse with full notes of which no one had seen\nthe preparation. \"I have been fortunate in securing another night,\" he\nmentioned amidst mirth, and proceeded to give us the most interesting and\nable account of the minds and bodies of horses in general and ours in\nparticular. He ended with a story of a dinner-party at which he was a\nguest, probably against his will. A young lady was so late that the party\nsat down to dinner without waiting longer. Soon she arrived covered with\nblushes and confusion. \"I'm so sorry,\" she said, \"but that horse was the\nlimit, he ...\" \"Perhaps it was a jibber,\" suggested her hostess to help\nher out. \"No, he was a ----. I heard the cabby tell him so several\ntimes.\"\n\nTitus Oates was the most cheerful and lovable old pessimist that you\ncould imagine. Often, after tethering and feeding our ponies at a night\ncamp on the Barrier, we would watch the dog-teams coming up into camp.\n\"I'll give these dogs ten days more,\" he would murmur in a voice such as\nsome people used when they heard of a British victory. I am acquainted\nwith so few dragoons that I do not know their general characteristics.\nFew of them, I imagine, would have gone about with the slouch which\ncharacterized his method of locomotion, nor would many of them have dined\nin a hat so shabby that it was picked off the peg and passed round as a\ncuriosity.\n\nHe came to look after the horses, and as an officer in the Inniskillings\nhe, no doubt, had excellent training. But his skill went far deeper than\nthat. There was little he didn't know about horses, and the pity is that\nhe did not choose our ponies for us in Siberia: we should have had a very\ndifferent lot. In addition to his general charge of them all, Oates took\nas his own pony the aforesaid devil Christopher for the Southern Journey\nand for previous training. We shall hear much more of Christopher, who\nappeared to have come down to the Antarctic to initiate the well-behaved\ninhabitants into all the vices of civilization, but from beginning to end\nOates' management of this animal might have proved a model to any\ngovernor of a lunatic asylum. His tact, patience and courage, for\nChristopher was a very dangerous beast, remain some of the most vivid\nrecollections of a very gallant gentleman.\n\nIn this connection let me add that no animals could have had more\nconsiderate and often self-sacrificing treatment than these ponies of\nours. Granted that they must be used at all (and I do not mean to enter\ninto that question) they were fed, trained, and even clothed as friends\nand companions rather than as beasts of burden. They were never hit, a\ncondition to which they were clearly unaccustomed. They lived far better\nthan they had before, and all this was done for them in spite of the\nconditions under which we ourselves lived. We became very fond of our\nbeasts but we could not be blind to their faults. The mind of a horse is\na very limited concern, relying almost entirely upon memory. He rivals\nour politicians in that he has little real intellect. Consequently, when\nthe pony was faced with conditions different from those to which he was\naccustomed, he showed but little adaptability; and when you add to this\nfrozen harness and rugs, with all their straps and buckles and lashings,\nan incredible facility for eating anything within reach including his own\ntethering ropes and the headstalls, fringes and whatnots of his\ncompanions, together with our own scanty provisions and a general wish to\ndo anything except the job of the moment, it must be admitted that the\npony leader's lot was full of occasions for bad temper. Nevertheless\nleaders and ponies were on the best of terms (excepting always\nChristopher), which is really not surprising when you come to think that\nmost of the leaders were sailors whose love of animals is profound.\n\nA lean-to roof was built against the northern side of the hut, and the\nends and open side were boarded up. This building when buttressed by the\nbricks of coal which formed our fuel, and drifted up with snow by the\nblizzards, formed an extremely sheltered and even warm stable. The ponies\nstood in stalls with their heads towards the hut and divided from it by a\ncorridor; the bars which kept them in carried also their food boxes. They\nlay down very little, the ground was too cold, and Oates was of opinion\nthat litter would not have benefited them if we had had space in the ship\nto bring it. The floor of their stall was formed of the gravel on which\nthe hut was built. On any future occasion it might be worth consideration\nwhether a flooring of wood might add to their comfort. As you walked down\nthis narrow passage you passed a line of heads, many of which would have\na nip at you in the semi-darkness, and at the far end Oates had rigged up\nfor himself a blubber stove, more elaborate than the one we had made\nwith the odds and ends at Hut Point, but in principle the same, in that\nthe fids of sealskin with the blubber attached to them were placed on a\ngrid, and the heat generated caused them to drop their oil on to ashes\nbelow which formed the fire. This fire not only warmed the stable, but\nmelted the snow to water the ponies and heated their bran mashes. I do\nnot wonder that this warm companionable home appealed to their minds when\nthey were exercising in the cold, dark, windy sea-ice: they were always\ntrying to get rid of their leader, and if successful generally went\nstraight back to the hut. Here they would dodge their pursuers until such\ntime as they were sick of the game, when they quietly walked into the\nstable of their own accord to be welcomed with triumphant squeals and\nkickings by their companions.\n\nI have already spoken of their exercise. Their ration during the winter\nwas as follows:\n\n 8 A.M. Chaff.\n\n 12 NOON. Snow. Chaff and oats or oil-cake alternate days.\n\n 5 P.M. Snow. Hot bran mash with oil-cake, or boiled oats and chaff;\n finally a small quantity of hay.\n\nIn the spring they were got into condition on hard food all cold, and by\na carefully increased scale of exercise during the latter part of which\nthey drew sledges with very light loads.\n\nUnfortunately I have no record as to what changes of feeding stuffs Oates\nwould have made if it had been possible. Certainly we should not have\nbrought the bales of compressed fodder, which as I have already\nexplained,[144] was theoretically green wheat cut young, but practically\nno manner of use as a food, though of some use perhaps as bulk. Probably\nhe would have used hay for this purpose at Winter Quarters had our stock\nof it not been very limited, for hay takes up too much room on a ship\nwhen every square inch of stowage space is of value. The original weights\nof fodder with which we left New Zealand were: compressed chaff, 30\ntons; hay, 5 tons; oil-cake, 5-6 tons; bran, 4-5 tons; and two kinds of\noats, of which the white was better than the black. We wanted more bran\nthan we had.[145] This does not exhaust our list of feeding stuffs, for\none of our ponies called Snippets would eat blubber, and so far as I know\nit agreed with him.\n\nWe left New Zealand with nineteen ponies, seventeen of which were\ndestined for the Main Party and two for the help of Campbell in the\nexploration of King Edward VII.'s Land. Two of these died in the big gale\nat sea, and we landed fifteen ponies at Cape Evans in January. Of these\nwe lost six on the Depôt Journey, while Hackenschmidt, who was a vicious\nbeast, sickened and wasted away in our absence, for no particular reason\nthat we could discover, until there was nothing to do but shoot him. Thus\neight only out of the original seventeen Main Party ponies which started\nfrom New Zealand were left by the beginning of the winter.\n\nI have told[146] how, during our absence on the Depôt Journey, the ship\nhad tried to land Campbell with his two ponies on King Edward VII.'s\nLand, but had been prevented from reaching it by pack ice. Coasting back\nin search of a landing place they found Amundsen in the Bay of Whales.\nUnder the circumstances Campbell decided not to land his party there but\nto try and land on the north coast of South Victoria Land, in which he\nwas finally successful. In the interval the ship returned to Cape Evans\nwith the news, and since he was of opinion that his animals would be\nuseless to him in that region he took the opportunity to swim the two\nponies ashore, a distance of half a mile, for the ship could get no\nnearer and the sea-ice had gone. Thus we started the winter with\nCampbell's two ponies (Jehu and Chinaman), two ponies which had survived\nthe Depôt Journey (Nobby and James Pigg), and six ponies which had been\nleft at Cape Evans (Snatcher, Snippets, Bones, Victor, Michael and\nChristopher) a total of ten.\n\nOf these ten Christopher was the only real devil with vice, but he was a\nstrong pony, and it was clear that he would be useful if he could be\nmanaged. Bones, Snatcher, Victor and Snippets were all useful ponies.\nMichael was a highly-strung nice beast, but his value was doubtful;\nChinaman was more doubtful still, and it was questionable sometimes\nwhether Jehu would be able to pull anything at all. This leaves Nobby and\nJimmy Pigg, both of which were with us on the Depôt Journey. Nobby was\nthe best of the two; he was the only survivor from the sea-ice disaster,\nand I am not sure that his rescue did not save the situation with regard\nto the Pole. Jimmy Pigg was wending his way slowly back from Corner Camp\nat this time and so was also saved. He was a weak pony but did extremely\nwell on the Polar Journey. It may be coincidence that these two ponies,\nthe only ponies which had gained previous sledging experience, did better\naccording to their strength than any of the others, but I am inclined to\nbelieve that their familiarity with the conditions on the Barrier was of\ngreat value to them, doing away with much useless worry and exhaustion.\n\nAnd so it will be understood with what feelings of anxiety any cases of\ninjury or illness to our ponies were regarded. The cases of injury were\nfew and of small importance, thanks to the care with which they were\nexercised in the dark on ice which was by no means free from\ninequalities. Let me explain in passing that this ice is almost always\ncovered by at least a thin layer of drifted snow and for the most part is\nnot slippery. Every now and then there would be a great banging and\ncrashing heard through the walls of the hut in the middle of the night.\nThe watchman would run out, Oates put on his boots, Scott be audibly\nuneasy. It was generally Bones or Chinaman kicking their stalls, perhaps\nto keep themselves warm, but by the time the watchman had reached the\nstable he would be met by a line of sleepy faces blinking at him in the\nlight of the electric torch, each saying plainly that he could not\npossibly have been responsible for a breach of the peace!\n\nBut antics might easily lead to accidents, and more than once a pony was\nfound twisted up in some way in his stall, or even to have fallen to the\nground. Their heads were tied on either side to the stanchions of the\nstall, and so if they tried to lie down complications might arise. More\nalarming was the one serious case of illness, preceded by a slighter case\nof a similar nature in another pony. Jimmy Pigg had a slight attack of\ncolic in the middle of June, but he was feeding all right again during\nthe evening of the same day. It was at noon, July 14, that Bones went off\nhis feed. This was followed by spasms of acute pain. \"Every now and again\nhe attempted to lie down, and Oates eventually thought it was wiser to\nallow him to do so. Once down, his head gradually drooped until he lay at\nlength, every now and then twitching very horribly with the pain, and\nfrom time to time raising his head and even scrambling to his legs when\nit grew intense. I don't think I ever realized before how pathetic a\nhorse could be under such conditions; no sound escapes him, his misery\ncan only be indicated by those distressing spasms and by dumb movement of\nthe head with a patient expression always suggestive of appeal.\"[147]\nTowards midnight it seemed that we were to lose him, and, apart from\nother considerations, we knew that unless we could keep all the surviving\nanimals alive the risks of failure in the coming journey were much\nincreased.\n\n\"It was shortly after midnight when I [Scott] was told that the animal\nseemed a little easier. At 2.30 I was again in the stable and found the\nimprovement had been maintained; the horse still lay on its side with\noutstretched head, but the spasms had ceased, its eye looked less\ndistressed, and its ears pricked to occasional noises. As I stood looking\nit suddenly raised its head and rose without effort to its legs; then in\na moment, as though some bad dream had passed, it began to nose at some\nhay and at its neighbour. Within three minutes it had drunk a bucket of\nwater and had started to feed.\"[148]\n\nThe immediate cause of the trouble was indicated by \"a small ball of\nsemi-fermented hay covered with mucus and containing tape-worms; so far\nnot very serious, but unfortunately attached to this mass was a strip of\nthe lining of the intestine.\"[149]\n\nThe recovery of Bones was uninterrupted. Two day later another pony went\noff his feed and lay down, but was soon well again.\n\nConsiderable speculation as to the original cause of this illness never\nfound a satisfactory answer. Some traced it to a want of ventilation, and\nit is necessary to say that both the ponies who were ill stood next to\nthe blubber stove; at any rate a big ventilator was fitted and more fresh\nair let in. Others traced it to the want of water, supposing that the\nanimals would not eat as much snow as they would have drunk water; the\neasy remedy for this was to give them water instead of snow. We also gave\nthem more salt than they had had before. Whatever the cause may have been\nwe had no more of this colic, and the improvement in their condition\nuntil we started sledging was uninterrupted.\n\nAll the ponies were treated for worms; it was also found that they had\nlice, which were eradicated after some time and difficulty by a wash of\ntobacco and water. I know that Oates wished that he had clipped the\nponies at the beginning of the winter, believing that they would have\ngrown far better coats if this had been done. He also would have wished\nfor a loose box for each pony.\n\nNo account of the ponies would be complete without mention of our Russian\npony boy, Anton. He was small in height, but he was exceedingly strong\nand had a chest measurement of 40 inches.\n\n[Illustration: EREBUS AND LANDS END]\n\n[Illustration: EREBUS BEHIND GREAT RAZORBACK]\n\nI believe both Anton and Dimitri, the Russian dog driver, were brought\noriginally to look after the ponies and dogs on their way from Siberia to\nNew Zealand. But they proved such good fellows and so useful that we were\nvery glad to take them on the strength of the landing party. I fear that\nAnton, at any rate, did not realize what he was in for. When we arrived\nat Cape Crozier in the ship on our voyage south, and he saw the two great\npeaks of Ross Island in front and the Barrier Cliff disappearing in an\nunbroken wall below the eastern horizon, he imagined that he reached\nthe South Pole, and was suitably elated. When the darkness of the winter\nclosed down upon us, this apparently unnatural order of things so preyed\nupon his superstitious mind that he became seriously alarmed. Where the\nsea-ice joined the land in front of the hut was of course a working\ncrack, caused by the rise and fall of the tide. Sometimes the sea-water\nfound its way up, and Anton was convinced that the weird phosphorescent\nlights which danced up out of the sea were devils. In propitiation we\nfound that he had sacrificed to them his most cherished luxury, his\nscanty allowance of cigarettes, which he had literally cast upon the\nwaters in the darkness. It was natural that his thoughts should turn to\nthe comforts of his Siberian home, and the one-legged wife whom he was\ngoing to marry there, and when it became clear that a another year would\nbe spent in the South his mind was troubled. And so he went to Oates and\nasked him, \"If I go away at the end of this year, will Captain Scott\ndisinherit me?\" In order to try and express his idea, for he knew little\nEnglish, he had some days before been asking \"what we called it when a\nfather died and left his son nothing.\" Poor Anton!\n\nHe looked long and anxiously for the ship, and with his kit-bag on his\nshoulder was amongst the first to trek across the ice to meet her. Having\nasked for and obtained a job of work there was no happier man on board:\nhe never left her until she reached New Zealand. Nevertheless he was\nalways cheerful, always working, and a most useful addition to our small\ncommunity.\n\nIt is still usual to talk of people living in complete married happiness\nwhen we really mean, so Mr. Bernard Shaw tells me, that they confine\ntheir quarrels to Thursday nights. If then I say that we lived this life\nfor nearly three years, from the day when we left England until the day\nwe returned to New Zealand, without any friction of any kind, I shall be\nsupposed to be making a formal statement of somewhat limited truth. May I\nsay that there is really no formality about it, and nothing but the\ntruth. To be absolutely accurate I must admit to having seen a man in a\nvery 'prickly' state on one occasion. That was all. It didn't last and\nmay have been well justified for aught I know: I have forgotten what it\nwas all about. Why we should have been more fortunate than polar\ntravellers in general it is hard to say, but undoubtedly a very powerful\nreason was that we had no idle hours: there was no time to quarrel.\n\nBefore we went South people were always saying, \"You will get fed up with\none another. What will you do all the dark winter?\" As a matter of fact\nthe difficulty was to get through with the work. Often after working all\nthrough a long night-watch officers carried on as a matter of course\nthrough the following day in order to clear off arrears. There was little\nreading or general relaxation during the day: certainly not before\nsupper, if at all. And while no fixed hours for work were laid down, the\ncustom was general that all hours between breakfast and supper should be\nso used.\n\nOur small company was desperately keen to obtain results. The youngest\nand most cynical pessimist must have had cause for wonder to see a body\nof healthy and not unintellectual men striving thus single-mindedly to\nadd their small quota of scientific and geographical knowledge to the sum\ntotal of the world--with no immediate prospect of its practical utility.\nLaymen and scientists alike were determined to attain the objects to gain\nwhich they had set forth.\n\nAnd I believe that in a vague intangible way there was an ideal in front\nof and behind this work. It is really not desirable for men who do not\nbelieve that knowledge is of value for its own sake to take up this kind\nof life. The question constantly put to us in civilization was and still\nis: \"What is the use? Is there gold? or Is there coal?\" The commercial\nspirit of the present day can see no good in pure science: the English\nmanufacturer is not interested in research which will not give him a\nfinancial return within one year: the city man sees in it only so much\nenergy wasted on unproductive work: truly they are bound to the wheel of\nconventional life.\n\nNow unless a man believes that such a view is wrong he has no business to\nbe 'down South.' Our magnetic and meteorological work may, I suppose,\nhave a fairly immediate bearing upon commerce and shipping: otherwise I\ncannot imagine any branch of our labours which will do more at present\nthan swell the central pool of unapplied knowledge. The members of this\nexpedition believed that it was worth while to discover new land and new\nlife, to reach the Southern Pole of the earth, to make elaborate\nmeteorological and magnetic observations and extended geological surveys\nwith all the other branches of research for which we were equipped. They\nwere prepared to suffer great hardship; and some of them died for their\nbeliefs. Without such ideals the spirit which certainly existed in our\nsmall community would have been impossible.\n\nBut if the reasons for this happy state of our domestic life were due\nlargely to the adaptability and keenness of the members of our small\ncommunity, I doubt whether the frictions which have caused other\nexpeditions to be less comfortable than they might have been, would have\nbeen avoided in our case, had it not been for the qualities in some of\nour men which set a fashion of hard work without any thought of personal\ngain.\n\nWith all its troubles it is a good life. We came back from the Barrier,\ntelling one another we loathed the place and nothing on earth should make\nus return. But now the Barrier comes back to us, with its clean, open\nlife, and the smell of the cooker, and its soft sound sleep. So much of\nthe trouble of this world is caused by memories, for we only remember\nhalf.\n\nWe have forgotten--or nearly forgotten--how the loss of a biscuit crumb\nleft a sense of injury which lasted for a week; how the greatest friends\nwere so much on one another's nerves that they did not speak for days for\nfear of quarrelling; how angry we felt when the cook ran short on the\nweekly bag; how sick we were after the first meals when we could eat as\nmuch as we liked; how anxious we were when a man fell ill many hundreds\nof miles from home, and we had a fortnight of thick weather and had to\nfind our depôts or starve. We remember the cry of _Camp Ho!_ which\npreceded the cup of tea which gave us five more miles that evening; the\ngood fellowship which completed our supper after safely crossing a bad\npatch of crevasses; the square inch of plum pudding which celebrated our\nChristmas Day; the chanties we sang all over the Barrier as we marched\nour ponies along.\n\nWe travelled for Science. Those three small embryos from Cape Crozier,\nthat weight of fossils from Buckley Island, and that mass of material,\nless spectacular, but gathered just as carefully hour by hour in wind and\ndrift, darkness and cold, were striven for in order that the world may\nhave a little more knowledge, that it may build on what it knows instead\nof on what it thinks.\n\nSome of our men were ambitious: some wanted money, others a name; some a\nhelp up the scientific ladder, others an F.R.S. Why not? But we had men\nwho did not care a rap for money or fame. I do not believe it mattered to\nWilson when he found that Amundsen had reached the Pole a few days before\nhim--not much. Pennell would have been very bored if you had given him a\nknighthood. Lillie, Bowers, Priestley, Debenham, Atkinson and many others\nwere much the same.\n\nBut there is no love lost between the class of men who go out and do such\nwork and the authorities at home who deal with their collections. I\nremember a conversation in the hut during the last bad winter. Men were\narguing fiercely that professionally they lost a lot by being down South,\nthat they fell behindhand in current work, got out of the running and so\nforth. There is a lot in that. And then the talk went on to the\npublication of results, and the way in which they would wish them done. A\nsaid he wasn't going to hand over his work to be mucked up by such and\nsuch a body at home; B said he wasn't going to have his buried in museum\nbook-shelves never to be seen again; C said he would jolly well publish\nhis own results in the scientific journals. And the ears of the armchair\nscientists who might deal with our hard-won specimens and observations\nshould have been warm that night.\n\nAt the time I felt a little indignant. It seemed to me that these men\nought to think themselves lucky to be down South at all: there were\nthousands who would have like to take their place. But now I understand\nquite a lot more than I did then. Science is a big thing if you can\ntravel a Winter Journey in her cause and not regret it. I am not sure she\nis not bigger still if you can have dealings with scientists and continue\nto follow in her path.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n [134] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 604.\n\n [135] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. pp. 599, 602, 607.\n\n [136] Scott, _Voyage of the Discovery_, vol. ii. p. 53.\n\n [137] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 295.\n\n [138] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. pp. 432-433.\n\n [139] Ibid. p. 597.\n\n [140] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 362.\n\n [141] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 396.\n\n [142] _With Scott: The Silver Lining_, Taylor, p. 240.\n\n [143] F. G. Jackson, _A Thousand Days in the Arctic_, vol. ii. pp.\n 380-381.\n\n [144] See p. 179.\n\n [145] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 4.\n\n [146] See pp. 130-134.\n\n [147] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 352.\n\n [148] Ibid. p. 353.\n\n [149] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 353.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nTHE WINTER JOURNEY\n\n Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp,\n Or what's a Heaven for?\n R. BROWNING, _Andrea del Sarto._\n\n To me, and to every one who has remained here the result of this\n effort is the appeal it makes to our imagination, as one of the\n most gallant stories in Polar History. That men should wander\n forth in the depth of a Polar night to face the most dismal cold\n and the fiercest gales in darkness is something new; that they\n should have persisted in this effort in spite of every adversity\n for five full weeks is heroic. It makes a tale for our generation\n which I hope may not be lost in the telling.\n\n Scott's Diary, at Cape Evans.\n\n\nThe following list of the Winter Journey sledge weights (for three men)\nis taken from the reckoning made by Bowers before we started:\n\n_Expendible Stores_-- lbs. lbs.\n'Antarctic' biscuit 135\n3 Cases for same 12\nPemmican 110\nButter 21\nSalt 3\nTea 4\nOil 60\nSpare parts for primus, and matches 2\nToilet paper 2\nCandles 8\nPacking 5\nSpirit 8 370\n\n_Permanent Weights, etc._\n2 9-ft. Sledges, 41 lbs. each 82\n1 Cooker complete 13\n2 Primus filled with oil 8\n1 Double tent complete 35\n1 Sledging shovel 3.5\n3 Reindeer sleeping-bags, 12 lbs. each 36\n3 Eider-down sleeping-bag linings, 4 lbs. each 12\n1 Alpine rope 5\n1 Bosun's bag, containing repairing materials, and\n1 Bonsa outfit, containing repairing tools 5\n3 Personal bags, each containing 15 lbs. spare clothing, etc. 45\nLamp box with knives, steel, etc., for seal and penguin 21\nMedical and scientific box 40\n2 Ice axes, 3 lbs. each 6\n3 Man-harnesses 3\n3 Portaging harnesses 3\nCloth for making roof and door for stone igloo 24\nInstrument box 7\n3 Pairs ski and sticks (discarded afterwards) 33\n1 Pickaxe 11\n3 Crampons, 2 lbs. 3 oz. each 6.5\n2 Bamboos for measuring tide if possible, 14 feet each 4\n2 Male bamboos 4\n1 Plank to form top of door of igloo 2\n1 Bag sennegrass 1\n6 Small female bamboo ends and\n1 Knife for cutting snow block to make igloo 4\nPacking 8 420\n ----\n 790\n ====\n\nThe 'Lamp box' mentioned above contained the following:\n\n 1 Lamp for burning blubber.\n 1 Lamp for burning spirit.\n 1 Tent candle lamp.\n 1 Blubber cooker.\n 1 Blowpipe.\n\nThe party of three men set out with a total weight of 757 lbs. to draw,\nthe ski and sticks in the above list being left behind at the last\nmoment.\n\nIt was impossible to load the total bulk upon one 12-ft. sledge, and so\ntwo 9-ft. sledges were taken, one toggled on behind the other. While this\nmade the packing and handling of the gear much easier, it nearly doubled\nthe friction surface against which the party had to pull.\n\n * * * * *\n\n _June 22. Midwinter Night._\n\nA hard night: clear, with a blue sky so deep that it looks black: the\nstars are steel points: the glaciers burnished silver. The snow rings and\nthuds to your footfall. The ice is cracking to the falling temperature\nand the tide crack groans as the water rises. And over all, wave upon\nwave, fold upon fold, there hangs the curtain of the aurora. As you\nwatch, it fades away, and then quite suddenly a great beam flashes up and\nrushes to the zenith, an arch of palest green and orange, a tail of\nflaming gold. Again it falls, fading away into great searchlight beams\nwhich rise behind the smoking crater of Mount Erebus. And again the\nspiritual veil is drawn--\n\n Here at the roaring loom of Time I ply\n And weave for God the garment thou seest him by.\n\nInside the hut are orgies. We are very merry--and indeed why not? The sun\nturns to come back to us to-night, and such a day comes only once a year.\n\nAfter dinner we had to make speeches, but instead of making a speech\nBowers brought in a wonderful Christmas tree, made of split bamboos and a\nski stick, with feathers tied to the end of each branch; candles, sweets,\npreserved fruits, and the most absurd toys of which Bill was the owner.\nTitus got three things which pleased him immensely, a sponge, a whistle,\nand a pop-gun which went off when he pressed in the butt. For the rest of\nthe evening he went round asking whether you were sweating. \"No.\" \"Yes,\nyou are,\" he said, and wiped your face with the sponge. \"If you want to\nplease me very much you will fall down when I shoot you,\" he said to me,\nand then he went round shooting everybody. At intervals he blew the\nwhistle.\n\nHe danced the Lancers with Anton, and Anton, whose dancing puts that of\nthe Russian Ballet into the shade, continually apologized for not being\nable to do it well enough. Ponting gave a great lecture with slides which\nhe had made since we arrived, many of which Meares had coloured. When one\nof these came up one of us would shout, \"Who coloured that,\" and another\nwould cry, \"Meares,\"--then uproar. It was impossible for Ponting to\nspeak. We had a milk punch, when Scott proposed the Eastern Party, and\nClissold, the cook, proposed Good Old True Milk. Titus blew away the\nball of his gun. \"I blew it into the cerulean--how doth Homer have\nit?--cerulean azure--hence Erebus.\" As we turned in he said, \"Cherry, are\nyou responsible for your actions?\" and when I said Yes, he blew loudly on\nhis whistle, and the last thing I remembered was that he woke up Meares\nto ask him whether he was fancy free.\n\nIt was a magnificent bust.\n\n * * * * *\n\nFive days later and three men, one of whom at any rate is feeling a\nlittle frightened, stand panting and sweating out in McMurdo Sound. They\nhave two sledges, one tied behind the other, and these sledges are piled\nhigh with sleeping-bags and camping equipment, six weeks' provisions, and\na venesta case full of scientific gear for pickling and preserving. In\naddition there is a pickaxe, ice-axes, an Alpine rope, a large piece of\ngreen Willesden canvas and a bit of board. Scott's amazed remark when he\nsaw our sledges two hours ago, \"Bill, why are you taking all this oil?\"\npointing to the six cans lashed to the tray on the second sledge, had a\nbite in it. Our weights for such travelling are enormous--253 lbs. a man.\n\nIt is mid-day but it is pitchy dark, and it is not warm.\n\nAs we rested my mind went back to a dusty, dingy office in Victoria\nStreet some fifteen months ago. \"I want you to come,\" said Wilson to me,\nand then, \"I want to go to Cape Crozier in the winter and work out the\nembryology of the Emperor penguins, but I'm not saying much about it--it\nmight never come off.\" Well! this was better than Victoria Street, where\nthe doctors had nearly refused to let me go because I could only see the\npeople across the road as vague blobs walking. Then Bill went and had a\ntalk with Scott about it, and they said I might come if I was prepared to\ntake the additional risk. At that time I would have taken anything.\n\nAfter the Depôt Journey, at Hut Point, walking over that beastly,\nslippery, sloping ice-foot which I always imagined would leave me some\nday in the sea, Bill asked me whether I would go with him--and who else\nfor a third? There can have been little doubt whom we both wanted, and\nthat evening Bowers had been asked. Of course he was mad to come. And\nhere we were. \"This winter travel is a new and bold venture,\" wrote Scott\nin the hut that night, \"but the right men have gone to attempt it.\"\n\nI don't know. There never could have been any doubt about Bill and\nBirdie. Probably Lashly would have made the best third, but Bill had a\nprejudice against seamen for a journey like this--\"They don't take enough\ncare of themselves, and they _will_ not look after their clothes.\" But\nLashly was wonderful--if Scott had only taken a four-man party and Lashly\nto the Pole!\n\nWhat is this venture? Why is the embryo of the Emperor penguin so\nimportant to Science? And why should three sane and common-sense\nexplorers be sledging away on a winter's night to a Cape which has only\nbeen visited before in daylight, and then with very great difficulty?\n\nI have explained more fully in the Introduction to this book[150] the\nknowledge the world possessed at this time of the Emperor penguin, mainly\ndue to Wilson. But it is because the Emperor is probably the most\nprimitive bird in existence that the working out of his embryology is so\nimportant. The embryo shows remains of the development of an animal in\nformer ages and former states; it recapitulates its former lives. The\nembryo of an Emperor may prove the missing link between birds and the\nreptiles from which birds have sprung.\n\nOnly one rookery of Emperor penguins had been found at this date, and\nthis was on the sea-ice inside a little bay of the Barrier edge at Cape\nCrozier, which was guarded by miles of some of the biggest pressure in\nthe Antarctic. Chicks had been found in September, and Wilson reckoned\nthat the eggs must be laid in the beginning of July. And so we started\njust after midwinter on the weirdest bird's-nesting expedition that has\never been or ever will be.\n\n[Illustration: EMPERORS]\n\nBut the sweat was freezing in our clothing and we moved on. All we could\nsee was a black patch away to our left which was Turk's Head: when this\ndisappeared we knew that we had passed Glacier Tongue which, unseen by\nus, eclipsed the rocks behind. And then we camped for lunch.\n\nThat first camp only lives in my memory because it began our education of\ncamp work in the dark. Had we now struck the blighting temperature which\nwe were to meet....\n\nThere was just enough wind to make us want to hurry: down harness, each\nman to a strap on the sledge--quick with the floor-cloth--the bags to\nhold it down--now a good spread with the bamboos and the tent inner\nlining--hold them, Cherry, and over with the outer covering--snow on to\nthe skirting and inside with the cook with his candle and a box of\nmatches....\n\nThat is how we tied it: that is the way we were accustomed to do it, day\nafter day and night after night when the sun was still high or at any\nrate only setting, sledging on the Barrier in spring and summer and\nautumn; pulling our hands from our mitts when necessary--plenty of time\nto warm up afterwards; in the days when we took pride in getting our tea\nboiling within twenty minutes of throwing off our harness: when the man\nwho wanted to work in his fur mitts was thought a bit too slow.\n\nBut now it _didn't_ work. \"We shall have to go a bit slower,\" said Bill,\nand \"we shall get more used to working in the dark.\" At this time, I\nremember, I was still trying to wear spectacles.\n\nWe spent that night on the sea-ice, finding that we were too far in\ntowards Castle Rock; and it was not until the following afternoon that we\nreached and lunched at Hut Point. I speak of day and night, though they\nwere much the same, and later on when we found that we could not get the\nwork into a twenty-four-hour day, we decided to carry on as though such a\nconvention did not exist; as in actual fact it did not. We had already\nrealized that cooking under these conditions would be a bad job, and that\nthe usual arrangement by which one man was cook for the week would be\nintolerable. We settled to be cook alternately day by day. For food we\nbrought only pemmican and biscuit and butter; for drink we had tea, and\nwe drank hot water to turn in on.\n\nPulling out from Hut Point that evening we brought along our heavy loads\non the two nine-foot sledges with comparative ease; it was the first, and\nthough we did not know it then, the only bit of good pulling we were to\nhave. Good pulling to the sledge traveller means easy pulling. Away we\nwent round Cape Armitage and eastwards. We knew that the Barrier edge was\nin front of us and also that the break-up of the sea-ice had left the\nface of it as a low perpendicular cliff. We had therefore to find a place\nwhere the snow had formed a drift. This we came right up against and met\nquite suddenly a very keen wind flowing, as it always does, from the cold\nBarrier down to the comparatively warm sea-ice. The temperature was -47°\nF., and I was a fool to take my hands out of my mitts to haul on the\nropes to bring the sledges up. I started away from the Barrier edge with\nall ten fingers frost-bitten. They did not really come back until we were\nin the tent for our night meal, and within a few hours there were two or\nthree large blisters, up to an inch long, on all of them. For many days\nthose blisters hurt frightfully.\n\nWe were camped that night about half a mile in from the Barrier edge. The\ntemperature was -56°. We had a baddish time, being very glad to get out\nof our shivering bags next morning (June 29). We began to suspect, as we\nknew only too well later, that the only good time of the twenty-four\nhours was breakfast, for then with reasonable luck we need not get into\nour sleeping-bags again for another seventeen hours.\n\n[Illustration: A PANORAMIC VIEW OF ROSS ISLAND FROM CRATER HILL]\n\nThe horror of the nineteen days it took us to travel from Cape Evans to\nCape Crozier would have to be re-experienced to be appreciated; and any\none would be a fool who went again: it is not possible to describe it.\nThe weeks which followed them were comparative bliss, not because later\nour conditions were better--they were far worse--because we were\ncallous. I for one had come to that point of suffering at which I did not\nreally care if only I could die without much pain. They talk of the\nheroism of the dying--they little know--it would be so easy to die, a\ndose of morphia, a friendly crevasse, and blissful sleep. The trouble is\nto go on....\n\nIt was the darkness that did it. I don't believe minus seventy\ntemperatures would be bad in daylight, not comparatively bad, when you\ncould see where you were going, where you were stepping, where the sledge\nstraps were, the cooker, the primus, the food; could see your footsteps\nlately trodden deep into the soft snow that you might find your way back\nto the rest of your load; could see the lashings of the food bags; could\nread a compass without striking three or four different boxes to find one\ndry match; could read your watch to see if the blissful moment of getting\nout of your bag was come without groping in the snow all about; when it\nwould not take you five minutes to lash up the door of the tent, and five\nhours to get started in the morning....\n\nBut in these days we were never less than four hours from the moment when\nBill cried \"Time to get up\" to the time when we got into our harness. It\ntook two men to get one man into his harness, and was all they could do,\nfor the canvas was frozen and our clothes were frozen until sometimes not\neven two men could bend them into the required shape.\n\nThe trouble is sweat and breath. I never knew before how much of the\nbody's waste comes out through the pores of the skin. On the most bitter\ndays, when we had to camp before we had done a four-hour march in order\nto nurse back our frozen feet, it seemed that we must be sweating. And\nall this sweat, instead of passing away through the porous wool of our\nclothing and gradually drying off us, froze and accumulated. It passed\njust away from our flesh and then became ice: we shook plenty of snow and\nice down from inside our trousers every time we changed our foot-gear,\nand we could have shaken it from our vests and from between our vests and\nshirts, but of course we could not strip to this extent. But when we got\ninto our sleeping-bags, if we were fortunate, we became warm enough\nduring the night to thaw this ice: part remained in our clothes, part\npassed into the skins of our sleeping-bags, and soon both were sheets of\narmour-plate.\n\nAs for our breath--in the daytime it did nothing worse than cover the\nlower parts of our faces with ice and solder our balaclavas tightly to\nour heads. It was no good trying to get your balaclava off until you had\nhad the primus going quite a long time, and then you could throw your\nbreath about if you wished. The trouble really began in your\nsleeping-bag, for it was far too cold to keep a hole open through which\nto breathe. So all night long our breath froze into the skins, and our\nrespiration became quicker and quicker as the air in our bags got fouler\nand fouler: it was never possible to make a match strike or burn inside\nour bags!\n\nOf course we were not iced up all at once: it took several days of this\nkind of thing before we really got into big difficulties on this score.\nIt was not until I got out of the tent one morning fully ready to pack\nthe sledge that I realized the possibilities ahead. We had had our\nbreakfast, struggled into our foot-gear, and squared up inside the tent,\nwhich was comparatively warm. Once outside, I raised my head to look\nround and found I could not move it back. My clothing had frozen hard as\nI stood--perhaps fifteen seconds. For four hours I had to pull with my\nhead stuck up, and from that time we all took care to bend down into a\npulling position before being frozen in.\n\nBy now we had realized that we must reverse the usual sledging routine\nand do everything slowly, wearing when possible the fur mitts which\nfitted over our woollen mitts, and always stopping whatever we were\ndoing, directly we felt that any part of us was getting frozen, until the\ncirculation was restored. Henceforward it was common for one or other of\nus to leave the other two to continue the camp work while he stamped\nabout in the snow, beat his arms, or nursed some exposed part. But we\ncould not restore the circulation of our feet like this--the only way\nthen was to camp and get some hot water into ourselves before we took our\nfoot-gear off. The difficulty was to know whether our feet were frozen or\nnot, for the only thing we knew for certain was that we had lost all\nfeeling in them. Wilson's knowledge as a doctor came in here: many a time\nhe had to decide from our descriptions of our feet whether to camp or to\ngo on for another hour. A wrong decision meant disaster, for if one of us\nhad been crippled the whole party would have been placed in great\ndifficulties. Probably we should all have died.\n\nOn June 29 the temperature was -50° all day and there was sometimes a\nlight breeze which was inclined to frost-bite our faces and hands. Owing\nto the weight of our two sledges and the bad surface our pace was not\nmore than a slow and very heavy plod: at our lunch camp Wilson had the\nheel and sole of one foot frost-bitten, and I had two big toes. Bowers\nwas never worried by frost-bitten feet.\n\nThat night was very cold, the temperature falling to -66°, and it was\n-55° at breakfast on June 30. We had not shipped the eider-down linings\nto our sleeping-bags, in order to keep them dry as long as possible. My\nown fur bag was too big for me, and throughout this journey was more\ndifficult to thaw out than the other two: on the other hand, it never\nsplit, as did Bill's.\n\nWe were now getting into that cold bay which lies between the Hut Point\nPeninsula and Terror Point. It was known from old Discovery days that the\nBarrier winds are deflected from this area, pouring out into McMurdo\nSound behind us, and into the Ross Sea at Cape Crozier in front. In\nconsequence of the lack of high winds the surface of the snow is never\nswept and hardened and polished as elsewhere: it was now a mass of the\nhardest and smallest snow crystals, to pull through which in cold\ntemperatures was just like pulling through sand. I have spoken elsewhere\nof Barrier surfaces, and how, when the cold is very great, sledge runners\ncannot melt the crystal points but only advance by rolling them over and\nover upon one another. That was the surface we met on this journey, and\nin soft snow the effect is accentuated. Our feet were sinking deep at\nevery step.\n\nAnd so when we tried to start on June 30 we found we could not move both\nsledges together. There was nothing for it but to take one on at a time\nand come back for the other. This has often been done in daylight when\nthe only risks run are those of blizzards which may spring up suddenly\nand obliterate tracks. Now in darkness it was more complicated. From 11\nA.M. to 3 P.M. there was enough light to see the big holes made by our\nfeet, and we took on one sledge, trudged back in our tracks, and brought\non the second. Bowers used to toggle and untoggle our harnesses when we\nchanged sledges. Of course in this relay work we covered three miles in\ndistance for every one mile forward, and even the single sledges were\nvery hard pulling. When we lunched the temperature was -61°. After lunch\nthe little light had gone, and we carried a naked lighted candle back\nwith us when we went to find our second sledge. It was the weirdest kind\nof procession, three frozen men and a little pool of light. Generally we\nsteered by Jupiter, and I never see him now without recalling his\nfriendship in those days.\n\nWe were very silent, it was not very easy to talk: but sledging is always\na silent business. I remember a long discussion which began just now\nabout cold snaps--was this the normal condition of the Barrier, or was it\na cold snap?--what constituted a cold snap? The discussion lasted about a\nweek. Do things slowly, always slowly, that was the burden of Wilson's\nleadership: and every now and then the question, Shall we go on? and the\nanswer Yes. \"I think we are all right as long as our appetites are good,\"\nsaid Bill. Always patient, self-possessed, unruffled, he was the only man\non earth, as I believe, who could have led this journey.\n\nThat day we made 3¼ miles, and travelled 10 miles to do it. The\ntemperature was -66° when we camped, and we were already pretty badly\niced up. That was the last night I lay (I had written slept) in my big\nreindeer bag without the lining of eider-down which we each carried. For\nme it was a very bad night: a succession of shivering fits which I was\nquite unable to stop, and which took possession of my body for many\nminutes at a time until I thought my back would break, such was the\nstrain placed upon it. They talk of chattering teeth: but when your body\nchatters you may call yourself cold. I can only compare the strain to\nthat which I have been unfortunate enough to see in a case of lock-jaw.\nOne of my big toes was frost-bitten, but I do not know for how long.\nWilson was fairly comfortable in his smaller bag, and Bowers was snoring\nloudly. The minimum temperature that night as taken under the sledge was\n-69°; and as taken on the sledge was -75°. That is a hundred and seven\ndegrees of frost.\n\nWe did the same relay work on July 1, but found the pulling still harder;\nand it was all that we could do to move the one sledge forward. From now\nonwards Wilson and I, but not to the same extent Bowers, experienced a\ncurious optical delusion when returning in our tracks for the second\nsledge. I have said that we found our way back by the light of a candle,\nand we found it necessary to go back in our same footprints. These holes\nbecame to our tired brains not depressions but elevations: hummocks over\nwhich we stepped, raising our feet painfully and draggingly. And then we\nremembered, and said what fools we were, and for a while we compelled\nourselves to walk through these phantom hills. But it was no lasting\ngood, and as the days passed we realized that we must suffer this\nabsurdity, for we could not do anything else. But of course it took it\nout of us.\n\nDuring these days the blisters on my fingers were very painful. Long\nbefore my hands were frost-bitten, or indeed anything but cold, which was\nof course a normal thing, the matter inside these big blisters, which\nrose all down my fingers with only a skin between them, was frozen into\nice. To handle the cooking gear or the food bags was agony; to start the\nprimus was worse; and when, one day, I was able to prick six or seven of\nthe blisters after supper and let the liquid matter out, the relief was\nvery great. Every night after that I treated such others as were ready in\nthe same way until they gradually disappeared. Sometimes it was difficult\nnot to howl.\n\nI _did_ want to howl many times every hour of these days and nights, but\nI invented a formula instead, which I repeated to myself continually.\nEspecially, I remember, it came in useful when at the end of the march\nwith my feet frost-bitten, my heart beating slowly, my vitality at its\nlowest ebb, my body solid with cold, I used to seize the shovel and go on\ndigging snow on to the tent skirting while the cook inside was trying to\nlight the primus. \"You've got it in the neck--stick it--stick it--you've\ngot it in the neck,\" was the refrain, and I wanted every little bit of\nencouragement it would give me: then I would find myself repeating \"Stick\nit--stick it--stick it--stick it,\" and then \"You've got it in the neck.\"\nOne of the joys of summer sledging is that you can let your mind wander\nthousands of miles away for weeks and weeks. Oates used to provision his\nlittle yacht (there was a pickled herring he was going to have): I\ninvented the compactest little revolving bookcase which was going to hold\nnot books, but pemmican and chocolate and biscuit and cocoa and sugar,\nand have a cooker on the top, and was going to stand always ready to\nquench my hunger when I got home: and we visited restaurants and theatres\nand grouse moors, and we thought of a pretty girl, or girls, and.... But\nnow that was all impossible. Our conditions forced themselves upon us\nwithout pause: it was not possible to think of anything else. We got no\nrespite. I found it best to refuse to let myself think of the past or the\nfuture--to live only for the job of the moment, and to compel myself to\nthink only how to do it most efficiently. Once you let yourself\nimagine....\n\nThis day also (July 1) we were harassed by a nasty little wind which blew\nin our faces. The temperature was -66°, and in such temperatures the\neffect of even the lightest airs is blighting, and immediately freezes\nany exposed part. But we all fitted the bits of wind-proof lined with\nfur which we had made in the hut, across our balaclavas in front of our\nnoses, and these were of the greatest comfort. They formed other places\nupon which our breath could freeze, and the lower parts of our faces were\nsoon covered with solid sheets of ice, which was in itself an additional\nprotection. This was a normal and not uncomfortable condition during the\njourney: the hair on our faces kept the ice away from the skin, and for\nmyself I would rather have the ice than be without it, until I want to\nget my balaclava off to drink my hoosh. We only made 2¼ miles, and it\ntook 8 hours.\n\nIt blew force 3 that night with a temperature of -65.2°, and there was\nsome drift. This was pretty bad, but luckily the wind dropped to a light\nbreeze by the time we were ready to start the next morning (July 2). The\ntemperature was then -60°, and continued so all day, falling lower in the\nevening. At 4 P.M. we watched a bank of fog form over the peninsula to\nour left and noticed at the same time that our frozen mitts thawed out on\nour hands, and the outlines of the land as shown by the stars became\nobscured. We made 2½ miles with the usual relaying, and camped at 8 P.M.\nwith the temperature -65°. It really was a terrible march, and parts of\nboth my feet were frozen at lunch. After supper I pricked six or seven of\nthe worst blisters, and the relief was considerable.\n\nI have met with amusement people who say, \"Oh, we had minus fifty\ntemperatures in Canada; they didn't worry _me_,\" or \"I've been down to\nminus sixty something in Siberia.\" And then you find that they had nice\ndry clothing, a nice night's sleep in a nice aired bed, and had just\nwalked out after lunch for a few minutes from a nice warm hut or an\noverheated train. And they look back upon it as an experience to be\nremembered. Well! of course as an experience of cold this can only be\ncompared to eating a vanilla ice with hot chocolate cream after an\nexcellent dinner at Claridge's. But in our present state we began to look\nupon minus fifties as a luxury which we did not often get.\n\nThat evening, for the first time, we discarded our naked candle in\nfavour of the rising moon. We had started before the moon on purpose, but\nas we shall see she gave us little light. However, we owed our escape\nfrom a very sticky death to her on one occasion.\n\nIt was a little later on when we were among crevasses, with Terror above\nus, but invisible, somewhere on our left, and the Barrier pressure on our\nright. We were quite lost in the darkness, and only knew that we were\nrunning downhill, the sledge almost catching our heels. There had been no\nlight all day, clouds obscured the moon, we had not seen her since\nyesterday. And quite suddenly a little patch of clear sky drifted, as it\nwere, over her face, and she showed us three paces ahead a great crevasse\nwith just a shining icy lid not much thicker than glass. We should all\nhave walked into it, and the sledge would certainly have followed us\ndown. After that I felt we had a chance of pulling through: God could not\nbe so cruel as to have saved us just to prolong our agony.\n\nBut at present we need not worry about crevasses; for we had not reached\nthe long stretch where the moving Barrier, with the weight of many\nhundred miles of ice behind it, comes butting up against the slopes of\nMount Terror, itself some eleven thousand feet high. Now we were still\nplunging ankle-deep in the mass of soft sandy snow which lies in the\nwindless area. It seemed to have no bottom at all, and since the snow was\nmuch the same temperature as the air, our feet, as well as our bodies,\ngot colder and colder the longer we marched: in ordinary sledging you\nbegin to warm up after a quarter of an hour's pulling, here it was just\nthe reverse. Even now I find myself unconsciously kicking the toes of my\nright foot against the heel of my left: a habit I picked up on this\njourney by doing it every time we halted. Well no. Not always. For there\nwas one halt when we just lay on our backs and gazed up into the sky,\nwhere, so the others said, there was blazing the most wonderful aurora\nthey had ever seen. I did not see it, being so near-sighted and unable to\nwear spectacles owing to the cold. The aurora was always before us as we\ntravelled east, more beautiful than any seen by previous expeditions\nwintering in McMurdo Sound, where Erebus must have hidden the most\nbrilliant displays. Now most of the sky was covered with swinging,\nswaying curtains which met in a great whirl overhead: lemon yellow, green\nand orange.\n\nThe minimum this night was -65°, and during July 3 it ranged between -52°\nand -58°. We got forward only 2½ miles, and by this time I had silently\nmade up my mind that we had not the ghost of a chance of reaching the\npenguins. I am sure that Bill was having a very bad time these nights,\nthough it was an impression rather than anything else, for he never said\nso. We knew we did sleep, for we heard one another snore, and also we\nused to have dreams and nightmares; but we had little consciousness of\nit, and we were now beginning to drop off when we halted on the march.\n\nOur sleeping-bags were getting really bad by now, and already it took a\nlong time to thaw a way down into them at night. Bill spread his in the\nmiddle, Bowers was on his right, and I was on his left. Always he\ninsisted that I should start getting my legs into mine before _he_\nstarted: we were rapidly cooling down after our hot supper, and this was\nvery unselfish of him. Then came seven shivering hours and first thing on\ngetting out of our sleeping-bags in the morning we stuffed our personal\ngear into the mouth of the bag before it could freeze: this made a plug\nwhich when removed formed a frozen hole for us to push into as a start in\nthe evening.\n\nWe got into some strange knots when trying to persuade our limbs into our\nbags, and suffered terribly from cramp in consequence. We would wait and\nrub, but directly we tried to move again down it would come and grip our\nlegs in a vice. We also, especially Bowers, suffered agony from cramp in\nthe stomach. We let the primus burn on after supper now for a time--it\nwas the only thing which kept us going--and when one who was holding the\nprimus was seized with cramp we hastily took the lamp from him until the\nspasm was over. It was horrible to see Birdie's stomach cramp sometimes:\nhe certainly got it much worse than Bill or I. I suffered a lot from\nheartburn especially in my bag at nights: we were eating a great\nproportion of fat and this was probably the cause. Stupidly I said\nnothing about it for a long time. Later when Bill found out, he soon made\nit better with the medical case.\n\nBirdie always lit the candle in the morning--so called and this was an\nheroic business. Moisture collected on our matches if you looked at them.\nPartly I suppose it was bringing them from outside into a comparatively\nwarm tent; partly from putting boxes into pockets in our clothing.\nSometimes it was necessary to try four or five boxes before a match\nstruck. The temperature of the boxes and matches was about a hundred\ndegrees of frost, and the smallest touch of the metal on naked flesh\ncaused a frost-bite. If you wore mitts you could scarcely feel\nanything--especially since the tips of our fingers were already very\ncallous. To get the first light going in the morning was a beastly cold\nbusiness, made worse by having to make sure that it was at last time to\nget up. Bill insisted that we must lie in our bags seven hours every\nnight.\n\nIn civilization men are taken at their own valuation because there are so\nmany ways of concealment, and there is so little time, perhaps even so\nlittle understanding. Not so down South. These two men went through the\nWinter Journey and lived: later they went through the Polar Journey and\ndied. They were gold, pure, shining, unalloyed. Words cannot express how\ngood their companionship was.\n\nThrough all these days, and those which were to follow, the worst I\nsuppose in their dark severity that men have ever come through alive, no\nsingle hasty or angry word passed their lips. When, later, we were sure,\nso far as we can be sure of anything, that we must die, they were\ncheerful, and so far as I can judge their songs and cheery words were\nquite unforced. Nor were they ever flurried, though always as quick as\nthe conditions would allow in moments of emergency. It is hard that often\nsuch men must go first when others far less worthy remain.\n\n[Illustration: CAMPING AFTER DARK--E. A. Wilson, del.]\n\nThere are those who write of Polar Expeditions as though the whole\nthing was as easy as possible. They are trusting, I suspect, in a public\nwho will say, \"What a fine fellow this is! we know what horrors he has\nendured, yet see, how little he makes of all his difficulties and\nhardships.\" Others have gone to the opposite extreme. I do not know that\nthere is any use in trying to make a -18° temperature appear formidable\nto an uninitiated reader by calling it fifty degrees of frost. I want to\ndo neither of these things. I am not going to pretend that this was\nanything but a ghastly journey, made bearable and even pleasant to look\nback upon by the qualities of my two companions who have gone. At the\nsame time I have no wish to make it appear more horrible than it actually\nwas: the reader need not fear that I am trying to exaggerate.\n\nDuring the night of July 3 the temperature dropped to -65°, but in the\nmorning we wakened (we really did wake that morning) to great relief. The\ntemperature was only -27° with the wind blowing some 15 miles an hour\nwith steadily falling snow. It only lasted a few hours, and we knew it\nmust be blowing a howling blizzard outside the windless area in which we\nlay, but it gave us time to sleep and rest, and get thoroughly thawed,\nand wet, and warm, inside our sleeping-bags. To me at any rate this\nmodified blizzard was a great relief, though we all knew that our gear\nwould be worse than ever when the cold came back. It was quite impossible\nto march. During the course of the day the temperature dropped to -44°:\nduring the following night to -54°.\n\nThe soft new snow which had fallen made the surface the next day (July 5)\nalmost impossible. We relayed as usual, and managed to do eight hours'\npulling, but we got forward only 1½ miles. The temperature ranged between\n-55° and -61°, and there was at one time a considerable breeze, the\neffect of which was paralysing. There was the great circle of a halo\nround the moon with a vertical shaft, and mock moons. We hoped that we\nwere rising on to the long snow cape which marks the beginning of Mount\nTerror. That night the temperature was -75°; at breakfast -70°; at noon\nnearly -77°. The day lives in my memory as that on which I found out\nthat records are not worth making. The thermometer as swung by Bowers\nafter lunch at 5.51 P.M. registered -77.5°, which is 109½ degrees of\nfrost, and is I suppose as cold as any one will want to endure in\ndarkness and iced-up gear and clothes. The lowest temperature recorded by\na Discovery Spring Journey party was -67.7°,[151] and in those days\nfourteen days was a long time for a Spring Party to be away sledging and\nthey were in daylight. This was our tenth day out and we hoped to be away\nfor six weeks.\n\nLuckily we were spared wind. Our naked candle burnt steadily as we\ntrudged back in our tracks to fetch our other sledge, but if we touched\nmetal for a fraction of a second with naked fingers we were frost-bitten.\nTo fasten the strap buckles over the loaded sledge was difficult: to\nhandle the cooker, or mugs, or spoons, the primus or oil can was worse.\nHow Bowers managed with the meteorological instruments I do not know, but\nthe meteorological log is perfectly kept. Yet as soon as you breathed\nnear the paper it was covered with a film of ice through which the pencil\nwould not bite. To handle rope was always cold and in these very low\ntemperatures dreadfully cold work. The toggling up of our harnesses to\nthe sledge we were about to pull, the untoggling at the end of the stage,\nthe lashing up of our sleeping-bags in the morning, the fastening of the\ncooker to the top of the instrument box, were bad, but not nearly so bad\nas the smaller lashings which were now strings of ice. One of the worst\nwas round the weekly food bag, and those round the pemmican, tea and\nbutter bags inside were thinner still. But the real devil was the lashing\nof the tent door: it was like wire, and yet had to be tied tight. If you\nhad to get out of the tent during the seven hours spent in our\nsleeping-bags you must tie a string as stiff as a poker, and re-thaw your\nway into a bag already as hard as a board. Our paraffin was supplied at a\nflash point suitable to low temperatures and was only a little milky: it\nwas very difficult to splinter bits off the butter.\n\nThe temperature that night was -75.8°, and I will not pretend that it did\nnot convince me that Dante was right when he placed the circles of ice\nbelow the circles of fire. Still we slept sometimes, and always we lay\nfor seven hours. Again and again Bill asked us how about going back, and\nalways we said no. Yet there was nothing I should have liked better: I\nwas quite sure that to dream of Cape Crozier was the wildest lunacy. That\nday we had advanced 1½ miles by the utmost labour, and the usual relay\nwork. This was quite a good march--and Cape Crozier is 67 miles from Cape\nEvans!\n\nMore than once in my short life I have been struck by the value of the\nman who is blind to what appears to be a common-sense certainty: he\nachieves the impossible. We never spoke our thoughts: we discussed the\nAge of Stone which was to come, when we built our cosy warm rock hut on\nthe slopes of Mount Terror, and ran our stove with penguin blubber, and\npickled little Emperors in warmth and dryness. We were quite intelligent\npeople, and we must all have known that we were not going to see the\npenguins and that it was folly to go forward. And yet with quiet\nperseverance, in perfect friendship, almost with gentleness those two men\nled on. I just did what I was told.\n\nIt is desirable that the body should work, feed and sleep at regular\nhours, and this is too often forgotten when sledging. But just now we\nfound we were unable to fit 8 hours marching and 7 hours in our\nsleeping-bags into a 24-hour day: the routine camp work took more than 9\nhours, such were the conditions. We therefore ceased to observe the quite\nimaginary difference between night and day, and it was noon on Friday\n(July 7) before we got away. The temperature was -68° and there was a\nthick white fog: generally we had but the vaguest idea where we were, and\nwe camped at 10 P.M. after managing 1¾ miles for the day. But what a\nrelief. Instead of labouring away, our hearts were beating more\nnaturally: it was easier to camp, we had some feeling in our hands, and\nour feet had not gone to sleep. Birdie swung the thermometer and found\nit only -55°. \"Now if we tell people that to get only 87 degrees of frost\ncan be an enormous relief they simply won't believe us,\" I remember\nsaying. Perhaps you won't but it was, all the same: and I wrote that\nnight: \"There is something after all rather good in doing something never\ndone before.\" Things were looking up, you see.\n\nOur hearts were doing very gallant work. Towards the end of the march\nthey were getting beaten and were finding it difficult to pump the blood\nout to our extremities There were few days that Wilson and I did not get\nsome part of our feet frost-bitten. As we camped, I suspect our hearts\nwere beating comparatively slowly and weakly. Nothing could be done until\na hot drink was ready--tea for lunch, hot water for supper. Directly we\nstarted to drink then the effect was wonderful: it was, said Wilson, like\nputting a hot-water bottle against your heart. The beats became very\nrapid and strong and you felt the warmth travelling outwards and\ndownwards. Then you got your foot-gear off--puttees (cut in half and\nwound round the bottom of the trousers), finnesko, saennegrass, hair\nsocks, and two pairs of woollen socks. Then you nursed back your feet and\ntried to believe you were glad--a frost-bite does not hurt until it\nbegins to thaw. Later came the blisters, and then the chunks of dead\nskin.\n\nBill was anxious. It seems that Scott had twice gone for a walk with him\nduring the Winter, and tried to persuade him not to go, and only finally\nconsented on condition that Bill brought us all back unharmed: we were\nSouthern Journey men. Bill had a tremendous respect for Scott, and later\nwhen we were about to make an effort to get back home over the Barrier,\nand our case was very desperate, he was most anxious to leave no gear\nbehind at Cape Crozier, even the scientific gear which could be of no use\nto us and of which we had plenty more at the hut. \"Scott will never\nforgive me if I leave gear behind,\" he said. It is a good sledging\nprinciple, and the party which does not follow it, or which leaves some\nof its load to be fetched in later is seldom a good one: but it is a\nprinciple which can be carried to excess.\n\nAnd now Bill was feeling terribly responsible for both of us. He kept on\nsaying that he was sorry, but he had never dreamed it was going to be as\nbad as this. He felt that having asked us to come he was in some way\nchargeable with our troubles. When leaders have this kind of feeling\nabout their men they get much better results, if the men are good: if men\nare bad or even moderate they will try and take advantage of what they\nconsider to be softness.\n\nThe temperature on the night of July 7 was -59°.\n\nOn July 8 we found the first sign that we might be coming to an end of\nthis soft, powdered, arrowrooty snow. It was frightfully hard pulling;\nbut every now and then our finnesko pierced a thin crust before they sank\nright in. This meant a little wind, and every now and then our feet came\ndown on a hard slippery patch under the soft snow. We were surrounded by\nfog which walked along with us, and far above us the moon was shining on\nits roof. Steering was as difficult as the pulling, and four hours of the\nhardest work only produced 1¼ miles in the morning, and three more hours\n1 mile in the afternoon--and the temperature was -57° with a\nbreeze--horrible!\n\nIn the early morning of the next day snow began to fall and the fog was\ndense: when we got up we could see nothing at all anywhere. After the\nusual four hours to get going in the morning we settled that it was\nimpossible to relay, for we should never be able to track ourselves back\nto the second sledge. It was with very great relief that we found we\ncould move both sledges together, and I think this was mainly due to the\ntemperature which had risen to -36°.\n\nThis was our fourth day of fog in addition to the normal darkness, and we\nknew we must be approaching the land. It would be Terror Point, and the\nfog is probably caused by the moist warm air coming up from the sea\nthrough the pressure cracks and crevasses; for it is supposed that the\nBarrier here is afloat.\n\nI wish I could take you on to the great Ice Barrier some calm evening\nwhen the sun is just dipping in the middle of the night and show you the\nautumn tints on Ross Island. A last look round before turning in, a good\nday's march behind, enough fine fat pemmican inside you to make you\nhappy, the homely smell of tobacco from the tent, a pleasant sense of\nsoft fur and the deep sleep to come. And all the softest colours God has\nmade are in the snow; on Erebus to the west, where the wind can scarcely\nmove his cloud of smoke; and on Terror to the east, not so high, and more\nregular in form. How peaceful and dignified it all is.\n\nThat was what you might have seen four months ago had you been out on the\nBarrier plain. Low down on the extreme right or east of the land there\nwas a black smudge of rock peeping out from great snow-drifts: that was\nthe Knoll, and close under it were the cliffs of Cape Crozier, the Knoll\nlooking quite low and the cliffs invisible, although they are eight\nhundred feet high, a sheer precipice falling to the sea.\n\nIt is at Cape Crozier that the Barrier edge, which runs for four hundred\nmiles as an ice-cliff up to 200 feet high, meets the land. The Barrier is\nmoving against this land at a rate which is sometimes not much less than\na mile in a year. Perhaps you can imagine the chaos which it piles up:\nthere are pressure ridges compared to which the waves of the sea are like\na ploughed field. These are worst at Cape Crozier itself, but they extend\nall along the southern slopes of Mount Terror, running parallel with the\nland, and the disturbance which Cape Crozier makes is apparent at Corner\nCamp some forty miles back on the Barrier in the crevasses we used to\nfind and the occasional ridges we had to cross.\n\nIn the Discovery days the pressure just where it hit Cape Crozier formed\na small bay, and on the sea-ice frozen in this bay the men of the\nDiscovery found the only Emperor penguin rookery which had ever been\nseen. The ice here was not blown out by the blizzards which cleared the\nRoss Sea, and open water or open leads were never far away. This gave the\nEmperors a place to lay their eggs and an opportunity to find their food.\nWe had therefore to find our way along the pressure to the Knoll, and\nthence penetrate _through_ the pressure to the Emperors' Bay. And we had\nto do it in the dark.\n\nTerror Point, which we were approaching in the fog, is a short twenty\nmiles from the Knoll, and ends in a long snow-tongue running out into the\nBarrier. The way had been travelled a good many times in Discovery days\nand in daylight, and Wilson knew there was a narrow path, free from\ncrevasses, which skirted along between the mountain and the pressure\nridges running parallel to it. But it is one thing to walk along a\ncorridor by day, and quite another to try to do so at night, especially\nwhen there are no walls by which you can correct your course--only\ncrevasses. Anyway, Terror Point must be somewhere close to us now, and\nvaguely in front of us was that strip of snow, neither Barrier nor\nmountain, which was our only way forward.\n\nWe began to realize, now that our eyes were more or less out of action,\nhow much we could do with our feet and ears. The effect of walking in\nfinnesko is much the same as walking in gloves, and you get a sense of\ntouch which nothing else except bare feet could give you. Thus we could\nfeel every small variation in surface, every crust through which our feet\nbroke, every hardened patch below the soft snow. And soon we began to\nrely more and more upon the sound of our footsteps to tell us whether we\nwere on crevasses or solid ground. From now onwards we were working among\ncrevasses fairly constantly. I loathe them in full daylight when much can\nbe done to avoid them, and when if you fall into them you can at any rate\nsee where the sides are, which way they run and how best to scramble out;\nwhen your companions can see how to stop the sledge to which you are all\nattached by your harness; how most safely to hold the sledge when\nstopped; how, if you are dangling fifteen feet down in a chasm, to work\nabove you to get you up to the surface again. And then our clothes were\ngenerally something like clothes. Even under the ideal conditions of good\nlight, warmth and no wind, crevasses are beastly, whether you are pulling\nover a level and uniform snow surface, never knowing what moment will\nfind you dropping into some bottomless pit, or whether you are rushing\nfor the Alpine rope and the sledge, to help some companion who has\ndisappeared. I dream sometimes now of bad days we had on the Beardmore\nand elsewhere, when men were dropping through to be caught up and hang at\nthe full length of the harnesses and toggles many times in an hour. On\nthe same sledge as myself on the Beardmore one man went down once head\nfirst, and another eight times to the length of his harness in 25\nminutes. And always you wondered whether your harness was going to hold\nwhen the jerk came. But those days were a Sunday School treat compared to\nour days of blind-man's buff with the Emperor penguins among the\ncrevasses of Cape Crozier.\n\nOur troubles were greatly increased by the state of our clothes. If we\nhad been dressed in lead we should have been able to move our arms and\nnecks and heads more easily than we could now. If the same amount of\nicing had extended to our legs I believe we should still be there,\nstanding unable to move: but happily the forks of our trousers still\nremained movable. To get into our canvas harnesses was the most absurd\nbusiness. Quite in the early days of our journey we met with this\ndifficulty, and somewhat foolishly decided not to take off our harness\nfor lunch. The harnesses thawed in the tent, and froze back as hard as\nboards. Likewise our clothing was hard as boards and stuck out from our\nbodies in every imaginable fold and angle. To fit one board over the\nother required the united efforts of the would-be wearer and his two\ncompanions, and the process had to be repeated for each one of us twice a\nday. Goodness knows how long it took; but it cannot have been less than\nfive minutes' thumping at each man.\n\nAs we approached Terror Point in the fog we sensed that we had risen and\nfallen over several rises. Every now and then we felt hard slippery snow\nunder our feet. Every now and then our feet went through crusts in the\nsurface. And then quite suddenly, vague, indefinable, monstrous, there\nloomed a something ahead. I remember having a feeling as of ghosts about\nas we untoggled our harnesses from the sledge, tied them together, and\nthus roped walked upwards on that ice. The moon was showing a ghastly\nragged mountainous edge above us in the fog, and as we rose we found that\nwe were on a pressure ridge. We stopped, looked at one another, and then\n_bang_--right under our feet. More bangs, and creaks and groans; for that\nice was moving and splitting like glass. The cracks went off all round\nus, and some of them ran along for hundreds of yards. Afterwards we got\nused to it, but at first the effect was very jumpy. From first to last\nduring this journey we had plenty of variety and none of that monotony\nwhich is inevitable in sledging over long distances of Barrier in summer.\nOnly the long shivering fits following close one after the other all the\ntime we lay in our dreadful sleeping-bags, hour after hour and night\nafter night in those temperatures--they were as monotonous as could be.\nLater we got frost-bitten even as we lay in our sleeping-bags. Things are\ngetting pretty bad when you get frost-bitten in your bag.\n\nThere was only a glow where the moon was; we stood in a moonlit fog, and\nthis was sufficient to show the edge of another ridge ahead, and yet\nanother on our left. We were utterly bewildered. The deep booming of the\nice continued, and it may be that the tide has something to do with this,\nthough we were many miles from the ordinary coastal ice. We went back,\ntoggled up to our sledges again and pulled in what we thought was the\nright direction, always with that feeling that the earth may open\nunderneath your feet which you have in crevassed areas. But all we found\nwere more mounds and banks of snow and ice, into which we almost ran\nbefore we saw them. We were clearly lost. It was near midnight, and I\nwrote, \"it may be the pressure ridges or it may be Terror, it is\nimpossible to say,--and I should think it is impossible to move till it\nclears. We were steering N.E. when we got here and returned S.W. till we\nseemed to be in a hollow and camped.\"\n\nThe temperature had been rising from -36° at 11 A.M. and it was now -27°;\nsnow was falling and nothing whatever could be seen. From under the tent\ncame noises as though some giant was banging a big empty tank. All the\nsigns were for a blizzard, and indeed we had not long finished our supper\nand were thawing our way little by little into our bags when the wind\ncame away from the south. Before it started we got a glimpse of black\nrock and knew we must be in the pressure ridges where they nearly join\nMount Terror.\n\nIt is with great surprise that in looking up the records I find that\nblizzard lasted three days, the temperature and wind both rising till it\nwas +9° and blowing force 9 on the morning of the second day (July 11).\nOn the morning of the third day (July 12) it was blowing storm force\n(10). The temperature had thus risen over eighty degrees.\n\nIt was not an uncomfortable time. Wet and warm, the risen temperature\nallowed all our ice to turn to water, and we lay steaming and beautifully\nliquid, and wondered sometimes what we should be like when our gear froze\nup once more. But we did not do much wondering, I suspect: we slept. From\nthat point of view these blizzards were a perfect Godsend.\n\nWe also revised our food rations. From the moment we started to prepare\nfor this journey we were asked by Scott to try certain experiments in\nview of the Plateau stage of the Polar Journey the following summer. It\nwas supposed that the Plateau stage would be the really tough part of the\nPolar Journey, and no one then dreamed that harder conditions could be\nfound in the middle of the Barrier in March than on the Plateau, ten\nthousand feet higher, in February. In view of the extreme conditions we\nknew we must meet on this winter journey, far harder of course in point\nof weather than anything experienced on the Polar Journey, we had\ndetermined to simplify our food to the last degree. We only brought\npemmican, biscuit, butter and tea: and tea is not a food, only a pleasant\nstimulant, and hot: the pemmican was excellent and came from Beauvais,\nCopenhagen.\n\n[Illustration: CAMP WORK IN A BLIZZARD, PASSING IN THE COOKER--E. A.\nWilson, del.]\n\nThe immediate advantage of this was that we had few food bags to handle\nfor each meal. If the air temperature is 100 degrees of frost, then\neverything in the air is about 100 degrees of frost too. You have only to\nuntie the lashings of one bag in a -70° temperature, with your feet\nfrozen and your fingers just nursed back after getting a match to strike\nfor the candle (you will have tried several boxes--metal), to realize\nthis as an advantage.\n\nThe immediate and increasingly pressing disadvantage is that you have no\nsugar. Have you ever had a craving for sugar which never leaves you, even\nwhen asleep? It is unpleasant. As a matter of fact the craving for sweet\nthings never seriously worried us on this journey, and there must have\nbeen some sugar in our biscuits which gave a pleasant sweetness to our\nmid-day tea or nightly hot water when broken up and soaked in it. These\nbiscuits were specially made for us by Huntley and Palmer: their\ncomposition was worked out by Wilson and that firm's chemist, and is a\nsecret. But they are probably the most satisfying biscuit ever made, and\nI doubt whether they can be improved upon. There were two kinds, called\nEmergency and Antarctic, but there was I think little difference between\nthem except in the baking. A well-baked biscuit was good to eat when\nsledging if your supply of food was good: but if you were very hungry an\nunderbaked one was much preferred. By taking individually different\nquantities of biscuit, pemmican and butter we were able roughly to test\nthe proportions of proteids, fats and carbo-hydrates wanted by the human\nbody under such extreme circumstances. Bill was all for fat, starting\nwith 8 oz. butter, 12 oz. pemmican and only 12 oz. biscuit a day. Bowers\ntold me he was going for proteids, 16 oz. pemmican and 16 oz. biscuit,\nand suggested I should go the whole hog on carbo-hydrates. I did not like\nthis, since I knew I should want more fat, but the rations were to be\naltered as necessary during the journey, so there was no harm in trying.\nSo I started with 20 oz. of biscuit and 12 oz. of pemmican a day.\n\nBowers was all right (this was usual with him), but he did not eat all\nhis extra pemmican. Bill could not eat all his extra butter, but was\nsatisfied. I got hungry, certainly got more frost-bitten than the\nothers, and wanted more fat. I also got heartburn. However, before taking\nmore fat I increased my biscuits to 24 oz., but this did not satisfy me;\nI wanted fat. Bill and I now took the same diet, he giving me 4 oz. of\nbutter which he could not eat, and I giving him 4 oz. of biscuit which\ndid not satisfy my wants. We both therefore had 12 oz. pemmican, 16 oz\nbiscuit and 4 oz. butter a day, but we did not always finish our butter.\nThis is an extremely good ration, and we had enough to eat during most of\nthis journey. We certainly could not have faced the conditions without.\n\nI will not say that I was entirely easy in my mind as we lay out that\nblizzard somewhere off Terror Point; I don't know how the others were\nfeeling. The unearthly banging going on underneath us may have had\nsomething to do with it. But we were quite lost in the pressure and it\nmight be the deuce and all to get out in the dark. The wind eddied and\nswirled quite out of its usual straightforward way, and the tent got\nbadly snowed up: our sledge had disappeared long ago. The position was\nnot altogether a comfortable one.\n\nTuesday night and Wednesday it blew up to force 10, temperature from -7°\nto +2°. And then it began to modify and get squally. By 3 A.M. on\nThursday (July 13) the wind had nearly ceased, the temperature was\nfalling and the stars were shining through detached clouds. We were soon\ngetting our breakfast, which always consisted of tea, followed by\npemmican. We soaked our biscuits in both. Then we set to work to dig out\nthe sledges and tent, a big job taking several hours. At last we got\nstarted. In that jerky way in which I was still managing to jot a few\nsentences down each night as a record, I wrote:\n\n\"Did 7½ miles during day--seems a marvellous run--rose and fell over\nseveral ridges of Terror--in afternoon suddenly came on huge crevasse on\none of these--we were quite high on Terror--moon saved us walking in--it\nmight have taken sledge and all.\"\n\nTo do seven miles in a day, a distance which had taken us nearly a week\nin the past, was very heartening. The temperature was between -20° and\n-30° all day, and that was good too. When crossing the undulations which\nran down out of the mountain into the true pressure ridges on our right\nwe found that the wind which came down off the mountain struck along the\ntop of the undulation, and flowing each way, caused a N.E. breeze on one\nside and a N.W. breeze on the other. There seemed to be wind in the sky,\nand the blizzard had not cleared as far away as we should have wished.\n\nDuring the time through which we had come it was by burning more oil than\nis usually allowed for cooking that we kept going at all. After each meal\nwas cooked we allowed the primus to burn on for a while and thus warmed\nup the tent. Then we could nurse back our frozen feet and do any\nnecessary little odd jobs. More often we just sat and nodded for a few\nminutes, keeping one another from going too deeply to sleep. But it was\nrunning away with the oil. We started with 6 one-gallon tins (those tins\nScott had criticized), and we had now used four of them. At first we said\nwe must have at least two one-gallon tins with which to go back; but by\nnow our estimate had come down to one full gallon tin, and two full\nprimus lamps. Our sleeping-bags were awful. It took me, even as early in\nthe journey as this, an hour of pushing and thumping and cramp every\nnight to thaw out enough of mine to get into it at all. Even that was not\nso bad as lying in them when we got there.\n\nOnly -35° but \"a very bad night\" according to my diary. We got away in\ngood time, but it was a ghastly day and my nerves were quivering at the\nend, for we could not find that straight and narrow way which led between\nthe crevasses on either hand. Time after time we found we were out of our\ncourse by the sudden fall of the ground beneath our feet--in we went and\nthen--\"are we too far right?\"--nobody knows--\"well let's try nearer in to\nthe mountain,\" and so forth! \"By hard slogging 2¾ miles this\nmorning--then on in thick gloom which suddenly lifted and we found\nourselves under a huge great mountain of pressure ridge looking black in\nshadow. We went on, bending to the left, when Bill fell and put his arm\ninto a crevasse. We went over this and another, and some time after got\nsomewhere up to the left, and both Bill and I put a foot into a crevasse.\nWe sounded all about and everywhere was hollow, and so we ran the sledge\ndown over it and all was well.\"[152] Once we got right into the pressure\nand took a longish time to get out again. Bill lengthened his trace out\nwith the Alpine rope now and often afterwards so he found the crevasses\nwell ahead of us and the sledge: nice for us but not so nice for Bill.\nCrevasses in the dark _do_ put your nerves on edge.\n\nWhen we started next morning (July 15) we could see on our left front and\nmore or less on top of us the Knoll, which is a big hill whose\nprecipitous cliffs to seaward form Cape Crozier. The sides of it sloped\ndown towards us, and pressing against its ice-cliffs on ahead were miles\nand miles of great pressure ridges, along which we had travelled, and\nwhich hemmed us in. Mount Terror rose ten thousand feet high on our left,\nand was connected with the Knoll by a great cup-like drift of\nwind-polished snow. The slope of this in one place runs gently out on to\nthe corridor along which we had sledged, and here we turned and started\nto pull our sledges up. There were no crevasses, only the great drift of\nsnow, so hard that we used our crampons just as though we had been on\nice, and as polished as the china sides of a giant cup which it\nresembled. For three miles we slogged up, until we were only 150 yards\nfrom the moraine shelf where we were going to build our hut of rocks and\nsnow. This moraine was above us on our left, the twin peaks of the Knoll\nwere across the cup on our right; and here, 800 feet up the mountain\nside, we pitched our last camp.\n\nWe had arrived.\n\nWhat should we call our hut? How soon could we get our clothes and bags\ndry? How would the blubber stove work? Would the penguins be there? \"It\nseems too good to be true, 19 days out. Surely seldom has any one been so\nwet; our bags hardly possible to get into, our wind-clothes just frozen\nboxes. Birdie's patent balaclava is like iron--it is wonderful how our\ncares have vanished.\"[153]\n\nIt was evening, but we were so keen to begin that we went straight up to\nthe ridge above our camp, where the rock cropped out from the snow. We\nfound that most of it was _in situ_ but that there were plenty of\nboulders, some gravel, and of course any amount of the icy snow which\nfell away below us down to our tent, and the great pressure about a mile\nbeyond. Between us and that pressure, as we were to find out afterwards,\nwas a great ice-cliff. The pressure ridges, and the Great Ice Barrier\nbeyond, were at our feet; the Ross Sea edge but some four miles away. The\nEmperors must be somewhere round that shoulder of the Knoll which hides\nCape Crozier itself from our view.\n\nOur scheme was to build an igloo with rock walls, banked up with snow,\nusing a nine-foot sledge as a ridge beam, and a large sheet of green\nWillesden canvas as a roof. We had also brought a board to form a lintel\nover the door. Here with the stove, which was to be fed with blubber from\nthe penguins, we were to have a comfortable warm home whence we would\nmake excursions to the rookery perhaps four miles away. Perhaps we would\nmanage to get our tent down to the rookery itself and do our scientific\nwork there on the spot, leaving our nice hut for a night or more. That is\nhow we planned it.\n\nThat same night \"we started to dig in under a great boulder on the top of\nthe hill, hoping to make this a large part of one of the walls of the\nhut, but the rock came close underneath and stopped us. We then chose a\nmoderately level piece of moraine about twelve feet away, and just under\nthe level of the top of the hill, hoping that here in the lee of the\nridge we might escape a good deal of the tremendous winds which we knew\nwere common. Birdie gathered rocks from over the hill, nothing was too\nbig for him; Bill did the banking up outside while I built the wall with\nthe boulders. The rocks were good, the snow, however, was blown so hard\nas to be practically ice; a pick made little impression upon it, and the\nonly way was to chip out big blocks gradually with the small shovel. The\ngravel was scanty, but good when there was any. Altogether things looked\nvery hopeful when we turned in to the tent some 150 yards down the slope,\nhaving done about half one of the long walls.\"[154]\n\nThe view from eight hundred feet up the mountain was magnificent and I\ngot my spectacles out and cleared the ice away time after time to look.\nTo the east a great field of pressure ridges below, looking in the\nmoonlight as if giants had been ploughing with ploughs which made furrows\nfifty or sixty feet deep: these ran right up to the Barrier edge, and\nbeyond was the frozen Ross Sea, lying flat, white and peaceful as though\nsuch things as blizzards were unknown. To the north and north-east the\nKnoll. Behind us Mount Terror on which we stood, and over all the grey\nlimitless Barrier seemed to cast a spell of cold immensity, vague,\nponderous, a breeding-place of wind and drift and darkness. God! What a\nplace!\n\n\"There was now little moonlight or daylight, but for the next forty-eight\nhours we used both to their utmost, being up at all times by day and\nnight, and often working on when there was great difficulty in seeing\nanything; digging by the light of the hurricane lamp. By the end of two\ndays we had the walls built, and banked up to one or two feet from the\ntop; we were to fit the roof cloth close before banking up the rest. The\ngreat difficulty in banking was the hardness of the snow, it being\nimpossible to fill in the cracks between the blocks which were more like\npaving-stones than anything else. The door was in, being a triangular\ntent doorway, with flaps which we built close in to the walls, cementing\nit with snow and rocks. The top folded over a plank and the bottom was\ndug into the ground.\"[155]\n\nBirdie was very disappointed that we could not finish the whole thing\nthat day: he was nearly angry about it, but there was a lot to do yet and\nwe were tired out. We turned out early the next morning (Tuesday 18th) to\ntry and finish the igloo, but it was blowing too hard. When we got to\nthe top we did some digging but it was quite impossible to get the roof\non, and we had to leave it. We realized that day that it blew much harder\nat the top of the slope than where our tent was. It was bitterly cold up\nthere that morning with a wind force 4-5 and a minus thirty temperature.\n\nThe oil question was worrying us quite a lot. We were now well in to the\nfifth of our six tins, and economizing as much as possible, often having\nonly two hot meals a day. We had to get down to the Emperor penguins\nsomehow and get some blubber to run the stove which had been made for us\nin the hut. The 19th being a calm fine day we started at 9.30, with an\nempty sledge, two ice-axes, Alpine rope, harnesses and skinning tools.\n\nWilson had made this journey through the Cape Crozier pressure ridges\nseveral times in the Discovery days. But then they had daylight, and they\nhad found a practicable way close under the cliffs which at the present\nmoment were between us and the ridges.\n\nAs we neared the bottom of the mountain slope, farther to the north than\nwe had previously gone, we had to be careful about crevasses, but we soon\nhit off the edge of the cliff and skirted along it until it petered out\non the same level as the Barrier. Turning left handed we headed towards\nthe sea-ice, knowing that there were some two miles of pressure between\nus and Cape Crozier itself. For about half a mile it was fair going,\nrounding big knobs of pressure but always managing to keep more or less\non the flat and near the ice-cliff which soon rose to a very great height\non our left. Bill's idea was to try and keep close under this cliff,\nalong that same Discovery way which I have mentioned above. They never\narrived there early enough for the eggs in those days; the chicks were\nhatched. Whether we should now find any Emperors, and if so whether they\nwould have any eggs, was by no means certain.\n\nHowever, we soon began to get into trouble, meeting several crevasses\nevery few yards, and I have no doubt crossing scores of others of which\nwe had no knowledge. Though we hugged the cliffs as close as possible we\nfound ourselves on the top of the first pressure ridge, separated by a\ndeep gulf from the ice-slope which we wished to reach. Then we were in a\ngreat valley between the first and second ridges: we got into huge heaps\nof ice pressed up in every shape on every side, crevassed in every\ndirection: we slithered over snow-slopes and crawled along drift ridges,\ntrying to get in towards the cliffs. And always we came up against\nimpossible places and had to crawl back. Bill led on a length of Alpine\nrope fastened to the toggle of the sledge; Birdie was in his harness also\nfastened to the toggle, and I was in my harness fastened to the rear of\nthe sledge, which was of great use to us both as a bridge and a ladder.\n\nTwo or three times we tried to get down the ice-slopes to the\ncomparatively level road under the cliff, but it was always too great a\ndrop. In that dim light every proportion was distorted; some of the\nplaces we actually did manage to negotiate with ice-axes and Alpine rope\nlooked absolute precipices, and there were always crevasses at the bottom\nif you slipped. On the way back I did slip into one of these and was\nhauled out by the other two standing on the wall above me.\n\nWe then worked our way down into the hollow between the first and second\nlarge pressure ridges, and I believe on to the top of the second. The\ncrests here rose fifty or sixty feet. After this I don't know where we\nwent. Our best landmarks were patches of crevasses, sometimes three or\nfour in a few footsteps. The temperatures were lowish (-37°), it was\nimpossible for me to wear spectacles, and this was a tremendous\ndifficulty to me and handicap to the party: Bill would find a crevasse\nand point it out; Birdie would cross; and then time after time, in trying\nto step over or climb over on the sledge, I put my feet right into the\nmiddle of the cracks. This day I went well in at least six times; once,\nwhen we were close to the sea, rolling into and out of one and then down\na steep slope until brought up by Birdie and Bill on the rope.\n\n[Illustration: A PROCESSION OF EMPERORS]\n\n[Illustration: THE KNOLL BEHIND THE CLIFFS OF CAPE CROZIER]\n\nWe blundered along until we got into a great cul-de-sac which probably\nformed the end of the two ridges, where they butted on to the sea-ice. On\nall sides rose great walls of battered ice with steep snow-slopes in\nthe middle, where we slithered about and blundered into crevasses. To the\nleft rose the huge cliff of Cape Crozier, but we could not tell whether\nthere were not two or three pressure ridges between us and it, and though\nwe tried at least four ways, there was no possibility of getting forward.\n\nAnd then we heard the Emperors calling.\n\nTheir cries came to us from the sea-ice we could not see, but which must\nhave been a chaotic quarter of a mile away. They came echoing back from\nthe cliffs, as we stood helpless and tantalized. We listened and realized\nthat there was nothing for it but to return, for the little light which\nnow came in the middle of the day was going fast, and to be caught in\nabsolute darkness there was a horrible idea. We started back on our\ntracks and almost immediately I lost my footing and rolled down a slope\ninto a crevasse. Birdie and Bill kept their balance and I clambered back\nto them. The tracks were very faint and we soon began to lose them.\nBirdie was the best man at following tracks that I have ever known, and\nhe found them time after time. But at last even he lost them altogether\nand we settled we must just go ahead. As a matter of fact, we picked them\nup again, and by then were out of the worst: but we were glad to see the\ntent.\n\nThe next morning (Thursday, June 20) we started work on the igloo at 3\nA.M. and managed to get the canvas roof on in spite of a wind which\nharried us all that day. Little did we think what that roof had in store\nfor us as we packed it in with snow blocks, stretching it over our second\nsledge, which we put athwartships across the middle of the longer walls.\nThe windward (south) end came right down to the ground and we tied it\nsecurely to rocks before packing it in. On the other three sides we had a\ngood two feet or more of slack all round, and in every case we tied it to\nrocks by lanyards at intervals of two feet. The door was the difficulty,\nand for the present we left the cloth arching over the stones, forming a\nkind of portico. The whole was well packed in and over with slabs of hard\nsnow, but there was no soft snow with which to fill up the gaps between\nthe blocks. However, we felt already that nothing could drag that roof\nout of its packing, and subsequent events proved that we were right.\n\nIt was a bleak job for three o'clock in the morning before breakfast, and\nwe were glad to get back to the tent and a meal, for we meant to have\nanother go at the Emperors that day. With the first glimpse of light we\nwere off for the rookery again.\n\nBut we now knew one or two things about that pressure which we had not\nknown twenty-four hours ago; for instance, that there was a lot of\nalteration since the Discovery days and that probably the pressure was\nbigger. As a matter of fact it has been since proved by photographs that\nthe ridges now ran out three-quarters of a mile farther into the sea than\nthey did ten years before. We knew also that if we entered the pressure\nat the only place where the ice-cliffs came down to the level of the\nBarrier, as we did yesterday, we could neither penetrate to the rookery\nnor get in under the cliffs where formerly a possible way had been found.\nThere was only one other thing to do--to go over the cliff. And this was\nwhat we proposed to try and do.\n\nNow these ice-cliffs are some two hundred feet high, and I felt\nuncomfortable, especially in the dark. But as we came back the day before\nwe had noticed at one place a break in the cliffs from which there hung a\nsnow-drift. It _might_ be possible to get down that drift.\n\nAnd so, all harnessed to the sledge, with Bill on a long lead out in\nfront and Birdie and myself checking the sledge behind, we started down\nthe slope which ended in the cliff, which of course we could not see. We\ncrossed a number of small crevasses, and soon we knew we must be nearly\nthere. Twice we crept up to the edge of the cliff with no success, and\nthen we found the slope: more, we got down it without great difficulty\nand it brought us out just where we wanted to be, between the land cliffs\nand the pressure.\n\n[Illustration: THE BARRIER PRESSURE AT CAPE CROZIER]\n\nThen began the most exciting climb among the pressure that you can\nimagine. At first very much as it was the day before--pulling\nourselves and one another up ridges, slithering down slopes, tumbling\ninto and out of crevasses and holes of all sorts, we made our way along\nunder the cliffs which rose higher and higher above us as we neared the\nblack lava precipices which form Cape Crozier itself. We straddled along\nthe top of a snow ridge with a razor-backed edge, balancing the sledge\nbetween us as we wriggled: on our right was a drop of great depth with\ncrevasses at the bottom, on our left was a smaller drop also crevassed.\nWe crawled along, and I can tell you it was exciting work in the more\nthan half darkness. At the end was a series of slopes full of crevasses,\nand finally we got right in under the rock on to moraine, and here we had\nto leave the sledge.\n\nWe roped up, and started to worry along under the cliffs, which had now\nchanged from ice to rock, and rose 800 feet above us. The tumult of\npressure which climbed against them showed no order here. Four hundred\nmiles of moving ice behind it had just tossed and twisted those giant\nridges until Job himself would have lacked words to reproach their Maker.\nWe scrambled over and under, hanging on with our axes, and cutting steps\nwhere we could not find a foothold with our crampons. And always we got\ntowards the Emperor penguins, and it really began to look as if we were\ngoing to do it this time, when we came up against a wall of ice which a\nsingle glance told us we could never cross. One of the largest pressure\nridges had been thrown, end on, against the cliff. We seemed to be\nstopped, when Bill found a black hole, something like a fox's earth,\ndisappearing into the bowels of the ice. We looked at it: \"Well, here\ngoes!\" he said, and put his head in, and disappeared. Bowers likewise. It\nwas a longish way, but quite possible to wriggle along, and presently I\nfound myself looking out of the other side with a deep gully below me,\nthe rock face on one hand and the ice on the other. \"Put your back\nagainst the ice and your feet against the rock and lever yourself along,\"\nsaid Bill, who was already standing on firm ice at the far end in a snow\npit. We cut some fifteen steps to get out of that hole. Excited by now,\nand thoroughly enjoying ourselves, we found the way ahead easier, until\nthe penguins' call reached us again and we stood, three crystallized\nragamuffins, above the Emperors' home. They were there all right, and we\nwere going to reach them, but where were all the thousands of which we\nhad heard?\n\nWe stood on an ice-foot which was really a dwarf cliff some twelve feet\nhigh, and the sea-ice, with a good many ice-blocks strewn upon it, lay\nbelow. The cliff dropped straight, with a bit of an overhang and no\nsnow-drift. This may have been because the sea had only frozen recently;\nwhatever the reason may have been it meant that we should have a lot of\ndifficulty in getting up again without help. It was decided that some one\nmust stop on the top with the Alpine rope, and clearly that one should be\nI, for with short sight and fogged spectacles which I could not wear I\nwas much the least useful of the party for the job immediately ahead. Had\nwe had the sledge we could have used it as a ladder, but of course we had\nleft this at the beginning of the moraine miles back.\n\nWe saw the Emperors standing all together huddled under the Barrier cliff\nsome hundreds of yards away. The little light was going fast: we were\nmuch more excited about the approach of complete darkness and the look of\nwind in the south than we were about our triumph. After indescribable\neffort and hardship we were witnessing a marvel of the natural world, and\nwe were the first and only men who had ever done so; we had within our\ngrasp material which might prove of the utmost importance to science; we\nwere turning theories into facts with every observation we made,--and we\nhad but a moment to give.\n\n[Illustration: EMPERORS BARRIER AND SEA ICE--E. A. Wilson, del.]\n\nThe disturbed Emperors made a tremendous row, trumpeting with their\ncurious metallic voices. There was no doubt they had eggs, for they tried\nto shuffle along the ground without losing them off their feet. But when\nthey were hustled a good many eggs were dropped and left lying on the\nice, and some of these were quickly picked up by eggless Emperors who had\nprobably been waiting a long time for the opportunity. In these poor\nbirds the maternal side seems to have necessarily swamped the other\nfunctions of life. Such is the struggle for existence that they can only\nlive by a glut of maternity, and it would be interesting to know whether\nsuch a life leads to happiness or satisfaction.\n\nI have told[156] how the men of the Discovery found this rookery where we\nnow stood. How they made journeys in the early spring but never arrived\nearly enough to get eggs and only found parents and chicks. They\nconcluded that the Emperor was an impossible kind of bird who, for some\nreason or other, nests in the middle of the Antarctic winter with the\ntemperature anywhere below seventy degrees of frost, and the blizzards\nblowing, always blowing, against his devoted back. And they found him\nholding his precious chick balanced upon his big feet, and pressing it\nmaternally, or paternally (for both sexes squabble for the privilege)\nagainst a bald patch in his breast. And when at last he simply must go\nand eat something in the open leads near by, he just puts the child down\non the ice, and twenty chickless Emperors rush to pick it up. And they\nfight over it, and so tear it that sometimes it will die. And, if it can,\nit will crawl into any ice-crack to escape from so much kindness, and\nthere it will freeze. Likewise many broken and addled eggs were found,\nand it is clear that the mortality is very great. But some survive, and\nsummer comes; and when a big blizzard is going to blow (they know all\nabout the weather), the parents take the children out for miles across\nthe sea-ice, until they reach the threshold of the open sea. And there\nthey sit until the wind comes, and the swell rises, and breaks that\nice-floe off; and away they go in the blinding drift to join the main\npack-ice, with a private yacht all to themselves.\n\nYou must agree that a bird like this is an interesting beast, and when,\nseven months ago, we rowed a boat under those great black cliffs,[157]\nand found a disconsolate Emperor chick still in the down, we knew\ndefinitely why the Emperor has to nest in mid-winter. For if a June egg\nwas still without feathers in the beginning of January, the same egg\nlaid in the summer would leave its produce without practical covering for\nthe following winter. Thus the Emperor penguin is compelled to undertake\nall kinds of hardships because his children insist on developing so\nslowly, very much as we are tied in our human relationships for the same\nreason. It is of interest that such a primitive bird should have so long\na childhood.\n\nBut interesting as the life history of these birds must be, we had not\ntravelled for three weeks to see them sitting on their eggs. We wanted\nthe embryos, and we wanted them as young as possible, and fresh and\nunfrozen that specialists at home might cut them into microscopic\nsections and learn from them the previous history of birds throughout the\nevolutionary ages. And so Bill and Birdie rapidly collected five eggs,\nwhich we hoped to carry safely in our fur mitts to our igloo upon Mount\nTerror, where we could pickle them in the alcohol we had brought for the\npurpose. We also wanted oil for our blubber stove, and they killed and\nskinned three birds--an Emperor weighs up to 6½ stones.\n\nThe Ross Sea was frozen over, and there were no seal in sight. There were\nonly 100 Emperors as compared with 2000 in 1902 and 1903. Bill reckoned\nthat every fourth or fifth bird had an egg, but this was only a rough\nestimate, for we did not want to disturb them unnecessarily. It is a\nmystery why there should have been so few birds, but it certainly looked\nas though the ice had not formed very long. Were these the first\narrivals? Had a previous rookery been blown out to sea and was this the\nbeginning of a second attempt? Is this bay of sea-ice becoming unsafe?\n\nThose who previously discovered the Emperors with their chicks saw the\npenguins nursing dead and frozen chicks if they were unable to obtain a\nlive one. They also found decomposed eggs which they must have incubated\nafter they had been frozen. Now we found that these birds were so anxious\nto sit on something that some of those which had no eggs were sitting on\nice! Several times Bill and Birdie picked up eggs to find them lumps of\nice, rounded and about the right size, dirty and hard. Once a bird\ndropped an ice nest egg as they watched, and again a bird returned and\ntucked another into itself, immediately forsaking it for a real one,\nhowever, when one was offered.\n\nMeanwhile a whole procession of Emperors came round under the cliff on\nwhich I stood. The light was already very bad and it was well that my\ncompanions were quick in returning: we had to do everything in a great\nhurry. I hauled up the eggs in their mitts (which we fastened together\nround our necks with lampwick lanyards) and then the skins, but failed to\nhelp Bill at all. \"Pull,\" he cried, from the bottom: \"I am pulling,\" I\nsaid. \"But the line's quite slack down here,\" he shouted. And when he had\nreached the top by climbing up on Bowers' shoulders, and we were both\npulling all we knew Birdie's end of the rope was still slack in his\nhands. Directly we put on a strain the rope cut into the ice edge and\njammed--a very common difficulty when working among crevasses. We tried\nto run the rope over an ice-axe without success, and things began to look\nserious when Birdie, who had been running about prospecting and had\nmeanwhile put one leg through a crack into the sea, found a place where\nthe cliff did not overhang. He cut steps for himself, we hauled, and at\nlast we were all together on the top--his foot being by now surrounded by\na solid mass of ice.\n\nWe legged it back as hard as we could go: five eggs in our fur mitts,\nBirdie with two skins tied to him and trailing behind, and myself with\none. We were roped up, and climbing the ridges and getting through the\nholes was very difficult. In one place where there was a steep rubble and\nsnow slope down I left the ice-axe half way up; in another it was too\ndark to see our former ice-axe footsteps, and I could see nothing, and so\njust let myself go and trusted to luck. With infinite patience Bill said:\n\"Cherry, you _must_ learn how to use an ice-axe.\" For the rest of the\ntrip my wind-clothes were in rags.\n\nWe found the sledge, and none too soon, and now had three eggs left,\nmore or less whole. Both mine had burst in my mitts: the first I emptied\nout, the second I left in my mitt to put into the cooker; it never got\nthere, but on the return journey I had my mitts far more easily thawed\nout than Birdie's (Bill had none) and I believe the grease in the egg did\nthem good. When we got into the hollows under the ridge where we had to\ncross, it was too dark to do anything but feel our way. We did so over\nmany crevasses, found the ridge and crept over it. Higher up we could see\nmore, but to follow our tracks soon became impossible, and we plugged\nstraight ahead and luckily found the slope down which we had come. All\nday it had been blowing a nasty cold wind with a temperature between -20°\nand 30°, which we felt a good deal. Now it began to get worse. The\nweather was getting thick and things did not look very nice when we\nstarted up to find our tent. Soon it was blowing force 4, and soon we\nmissed our way entirely. We got right up above the patch of rocks which\nmarked our igloo and only found it after a good deal of search.\n\nI have heard tell of an English officer at the Dardanelles who was left,\nblinded, in No Man's Land between the English and Turkish trenches.\nMoving only at night, and having no sense to tell him which were his own\ntrenches, he was fired at by Turk and English alike as he groped his\nghastly way to and from them. Thus he spent days and nights until, one\nnight, he crawled towards the English trenches, to be fired at as usual.\n\"Oh God! what can I do!\" some one heard him say, and he was brought in.\n\nSuch extremity of suffering cannot be measured: madness or death may give\nrelief. But this I know: we on this journey were already beginning to\nthink of death as a friend. As we groped our way back that night,\nsleepless, icy, and dog-tired in the dark and the wind and the drift, a\ncrevasse seemed almost a friendly gift.\n\n\"Things must improve,\" said Bill next day, \"I think we reached bed-rock\nlast night.\" We hadn't, by a long way.\n\nIt was like this.\n\nWe moved into the igloo for the first time, for we had to save oil by\nusing our blubber stove if we were to have any left to travel home with,\nand we did not wish to cover our tent with the oily black filth which the\nuse of blubber necessitates. The blizzard blew all night, and we were\ncovered with drift which came in through hundreds of leaks: in this\nwind-swept place we had found no soft snow with which we could pack our\nhard snow blocks. As we flensed some blubber from one of our penguin\nskins the powdery drift covered everything we had.\n\nThough uncomfortable this was nothing to worry about overmuch. Some of\nthe drift which the blizzard was bringing would collect to leeward of our\nhut and the rocks below which it was built, and they could be used to\nmake our hut more weather-proof. Then with great difficulty we got the\nblubber stove to start, and it spouted a blob of boiling oil into Bill's\neye. For the rest of the night he lay, quite unable to stifle his groans,\nobviously in very great pain: he told us afterwards that he thought his\neye was gone. We managed to cook a meal somehow, and Birdie got the stove\ngoing afterwards, but it was quite useless to try and warm the place. I\ngot out and cut the green canvas outside the door, so as to get the roof\ncloth in under the stones, and then packed it down as well as I could\nwith snow, and so blocked most of the drift coming in.\n\nIt is extraordinary how often angels and fools do the same thing in this\nlife, and I have never been able to settle which we were on this journey.\nI never heard an angry word: once only (when this same day I could not\npull Bill up the cliff out of the penguin rookery) I heard an impatient\none: and these groans were the nearest approach to complaint. Most men\nwould have howled. \"I think we reached bed-rock last night,\" was strong\nlanguage for Bill. \"I was incapacitated for a short time,\" he says in his\nreport to Scott.[158] Endurance was tested on this journey under unique\ncircumstances, and always these two men with all the burden of\nresponsibility which did not fall upon myself, displayed that quality\nwhich is perhaps the only one which may be said with certainty to make\nfor success, self-control.\n\nWe spent the next day--it was July 21--in collecting every scrap of soft\nsnow we could find and packing it into the crevasses between our hard\nsnow blocks. It was a pitifully small amount but we could see no cracks\nwhen we had finished. To counteract the lifting tendency the wind had on\nour roof we cut some great flat hard snow blocks and laid them on the\ncanvas top to steady it against the sledge which formed the ridge\nsupport. We also pitched our tent outside the igloo door. Both tent and\nigloo were therefore eight or nine hundred feet up Terror: both were\nbelow an outcrop of rocks from which the mountain fell steeply to the\nBarrier behind us, and from this direction came the blizzards. In front\nof us the slope fell for a mile or more down to the ice-cliffs, so\nwind-swept that we had to wear crampons to walk upon it. Most of the tent\nwas in the lee of the igloo, but the cap of it came over the igloo roof,\nwhile a segment of the tent itself jutted out beyond the igloo wall.\n\nThat night we took much of our gear into the tent and lighted the blubber\nstove. I always mistrusted that stove, and every moment I expected it to\nflare up and burn the tent. But the heat it gave, as it burned furiously,\nwith the double lining of the tent to contain it, was considerable.\n\nIt did not matter, except for a routine which we never managed to keep,\nwhether we started to thaw our way into our frozen sleeping-bags at 4 in\nthe morning or 4 in the afternoon. I think we must have turned in during\nthe afternoon of that Friday, leaving the cooker, our finnesko, a deal of\nour foot-gear, Bowers' bag of personal gear, and many other things in the\ntent. I expect we left the blubber stove there too, for it was quite\nuseless at present to try and warm the igloo. The tent floor-cloth was\nunder our sleeping-bags in the igloo.\n\n\"Things must improve,\" said Bill. After all there was much for which to\nbe thankful. I don't think anybody could have made a better igloo with\nthe hard snow blocks and rocks which were all we had: we would get it\nair-tight by degrees. The blubber stove was working, and we had fuel for\nit: we had also found a way down to the penguins and had three complete,\nthough frozen eggs: the two which had been in my mitts smashed when I\nfell about because I could not wear spectacles. Also the twilight given\nby the sun below the horizon at noon was getting longer.\n\nBut already we had been out twice as long in winter as the longest\nprevious journeys in spring. The men who made those journeys had daylight\nwhere we had darkness, they had never had such low temperatures,\ngenerally nothing approaching them, and they had seldom worked in such\ndifficult country. The nearest approach to healthy sleep we had had for\nnearly a month was when during blizzards the temperature allowed the\nwarmth of our bodies to thaw some of the ice in our clothing and\nsleeping-bags into water. The wear and tear on our minds was very great.\nWe were certainly weaker. We had a little more than a tin of oil to get\nback on, and we knew the conditions we had to face on that journey across\nthe Barrier: even with fresh men and fresh gear it had been almost\nunendurable.\n\nAnd so we spent half an hour or more getting into our bags. Cirrus cloud\nwas moving across the face of the stars from the north, it looked rather\nhazy and thick to the south, but it is always difficult to judge weather\nin the dark. There was little wind and the temperature was in the minus\ntwenties. We felt no particular uneasiness. Our tent was well dug in, and\nwas also held down by rocks and the heavy tank off the sledge which were\nplaced on the skirting as additional security. We felt that no power on\nearth could move the thick walls of our igloo, nor drag the canvas roof\nfrom the middle of the embankment into which it was packed and lashed.\n\n\"Things must improve,\" said Bill.\n\nI do not know what time it was when I woke up. It was calm, with that\nabsolute silence which can be so soothing or so terrible as circumstances\ndictate. Then there came a sob of wind, and all was still again. Ten\nminutes and it was blowing as though the world was having a fit of\nhysterics. The earth was torn in pieces: the indescribable fury and roar\nof it all cannot be imagined.\n\n\"Bill, Bill, the tent has gone,\" was the next I remember--from Bowers\nshouting at us again and again through the door. It is always these early\nmorning shocks which hit one hardest: our slow minds suggested that this\nmight mean a peculiarly lingering form of death. Journey after journey\nBirdie and I fought our way across the few yards which had separated the\ntent from the igloo door. I have never understood why so much of our gear\nwhich was in the tent remained, even in the lee of the igloo. The place\nwhere the tent had been was littered with gear, and when we came to\nreckon up afterwards we had everything except the bottom piece of the\ncooker, and the top of the outer cooker. We never saw these again. The\nmost wonderful thing of all was that our finnesko were lying where they\nwere left, which happened to be on the ground in the part of the tent\nwhich was under the lee of the igloo. Also Birdie's bag of personal gear\nwas there, and a tin of sweets.\n\nBirdie brought two tins of sweets away with him. One we had to celebrate\nour arrival at the Knoll: this was the second, of which we knew nothing,\nand which was for Bill's birthday, the next day. We started eating them\non Saturday, however, and the tin came in useful to Bill afterwards.\n\nTo get that gear in we fought against solid walls of black snow which\nflowed past us and tried to hurl us down the slope. Once started nothing\ncould have stopped us. I saw Birdie knocked over once, but he clawed his\nway back just in time. Having passed everything we could find in to Bill,\nwe got back into the igloo, and started to collect things together,\nincluding our very dishevelled minds.\n\nThere was no doubt that we were in the devil of a mess, and it was not\naltogether our fault. We had had to put our igloo more or less where we\ncould get rocks with which to build it. Very naturally we had given both\nour tent and igloo all the shelter we could from the full force of the\nwind, and now it seemed we were in danger not because they were in the\nwind, but because they were not sufficiently in it. The main force of the\nhurricane, deflected by the ridge behind, fled over our heads and\nappeared to form by suction a vacuum below. Our tent had either been\nsucked upwards into this, or had been blown away because some of it was\nin the wind while some of it was not. The roof of our igloo was being\nwrenched upwards and then dropped back with great crashes: the drift was\nspouting in, not it seemed because it was blown in from outside, but\nbecause it was sucked in from within: the lee, not the weather, wall was\nthe worst. Already everything was six or eight inches under snow.\n\nVery soon we began to be alarmed about the igloo. For some time the heavy\nsnow blocks we had heaved up on to the canvas roof kept it weighted down.\nBut it seemed that they were being gradually moved off by the hurricane.\nThe tension became well-nigh unendurable: the waiting in all that welter\nof noise was maddening. Minute after minute, hour after hour--those snow\nblocks were off now anyway, and the roof was smashed up and down--no\ncanvas ever made could stand it indefinitely.\n\nWe got a meal that Saturday morning, our last for a very long time as it\nhappened. Oil being of such importance to us we tried to use the blubber\nstove, but after several preliminary spasms it came to pieces in our\nhands, some solder having melted; and a very good thing too, I thought,\nfor it was more dangerous than useful. We finished cooking our meal on\nthe primus. Two bits of the cooker having been blown away we had to\nbalance it on the primus as best we could. We then settled that in view\nof the shortage of oil we would not have another meal for as long as\npossible. As a matter of fact God settled that for us.\n\nWe did all we could to stop up the places where the drift was coming in,\nplugging the holes with our socks, mitts and other clothing. But it was\nno real good. Our igloo was a vacuum which was filling itself up as soon\nas possible: and when snow was not coming in a fine black moraine dust\ntook its place, covering us and everything. For twenty-four hours we\nwaited for the roof to go: things were so bad now that we dare not unlash\nthe door.\n\nMany hours ago Bill had told us that if the roof went he considered that\nour best chance would be to roll over in our sleeping-bags until we were\nlying on the openings, and get frozen and drifted in.\n\nGradually the situation got more desperate. The distance between the\ntaut-sucked canvas and the sledge on which it should have been resting\nbecame greater, and this must have been due to the stretching of the\ncanvas itself and the loss of the snow blocks on the top: it was not\ndrawing out of the walls. The crashes as it dropped and banged out again\nwere louder. There was more snow coming through the walls, though all our\nloose mitts, socks and smaller clothing were stuffed into the worst\nplaces: our pyjama jackets were stuffed between the roof and the rocks\nover the door. The rocks were lifting and shaking here till we thought\nthey would fall.\n\nWe talked by shouting, and long before this one of us proposed to try and\nget the Alpine rope lashed down over the roof from outside. But Bowers\nsaid it was an absolute impossibility in that wind. \"You could never ask\nmen at sea to try such a thing,\" he said. He was up and out of his bag\ncontinually, stopping up holes, pressing against bits of roof to try and\nprevent the flapping and so forth. He was magnificent.\n\nAnd then it went.\n\nBirdie was over by the door, where the canvas which was bent over the\nlintel board was working worse than anywhere else. Bill was practically\nout of his bag pressing against some part with a long stick of some kind.\nI don't know what I was doing but I was half out of and half in my bag.\n\nThe top of the door opened in little slits and that green Willesden\ncanvas flapped into hundreds of little fragments in fewer seconds than it\ntakes to read this. The uproar of it all was indescribable. Even above\nthe savage thunder of that great wind on the mountain came the lash of\nthe canvas as it was whipped to little tiny strips. The highest rocks\nwhich we had built into our walls fell upon us, and a sheet of drift came\nin.\n\nBirdie dived for his sleeping-bag and eventually got in, together with a\nterrible lot of drift. Bill also--but he was better off: I was already\nhalf into mine and all right, so I turned to help Bill. \"Get into your\nown,\" he shouted, and when I continued to try and help him, he leaned\nover until his mouth was against my ear. \"_Please_, Cherry,\" he said, and\nhis voice was terribly anxious. I know he felt responsible: feared it was\nhe who had brought us to this ghastly end.\n\nThe next I knew was Bowers' head across Bill's body. \"We're all right,\"\nhe yelled, and we answered in the affirmative. Despite the fact that we\nknew we only said so because we knew we were all wrong, this statement\nwas helpful. Then we turned our bags over as far as possible, so that the\nbottom of the bag was uppermost and the flaps were more or less beneath\nus. And we lay and thought, and sometimes we sang.\n\nI suppose, wrote Wilson, we were all revolving plans to get back without\na tent: and the one thing we had left was the floor-cloth upon which we\nwere actually lying. Of course we could not speak at present, but later\nafter the blizzard had stopped we discussed the possibility of digging a\nhole in the snow each night and covering it over with the floor-cloth. I\ndo not think we had any idea that we could really get back in those\ntemperatures in our present state of ice by such means, but no one ever\nhinted at such a thing. Birdie and Bill sang quite a lot of songs and\nhymns, snatches of which reached me every now and then, and I chimed in,\nsomewhat feebly I suspect. Of course we were getting pretty badly drifted\nup. \"I was resolved to keep warm,\" wrote Bowers, \"and beneath my debris\ncovering I paddled my feet and sang all the songs and hymns I knew to\npass the time. I could occasionally thump Bill, and as he still moved I\nknew he was alive all right--what a birthday for him!\" Birdie was more\ndrifted up than we, but at times we all had to hummock ourselves up to\nheave the snow off our bags. By opening the flaps of our bags we could\nget small pinches of soft drift which we pressed together and put into\nour mouths to melt. When our hands warmed up again we got some more; so\nwe did not get very thirsty. A few ribbons of canvas still remained in\nthe wall over our heads, and these produced volleys of cracks like pistol\nshots hour after hour The canvas never drew out from the walls, not an\ninch The wind made just the same noise as an express train running fast\nthrough a tunnel if you have both the windows down.\n\nI can well believe that neither of my companions gave up hope for an\ninstant. They must have been frightened but they were never disturbed. As\nfor me I never had any hope at all; and when the roof went I felt that\nthis was the end. What else could I think? We had spent days in reaching\nthis place through the darkness in cold such as had never been\nexperienced by human beings. We had been out for four weeks under\nconditions in which no man had existed previously for more than a few\ndays, if that. During this time we had seldom slept except from sheer\nphysical exhaustion, as men sleep on the rack; and every minute of it we\nhad been fighting for the bed-rock necessaries of bare existence, and\nalways in the dark. We had kept ourselves going by enormous care of our\nfeet and hands and bodies, by burning oil, and by having plenty of hot\nfatty food. Now we had no tent, one tin of oil left out of six, and only\npart of our cooker. When we were lucky and not too cold we could almost\nwring water from our clothes, and directly we got out of our\nsleeping-bags we were frozen into solid sheets of armoured ice. In cold\ntemperatures with all the advantages of a tent over our heads we were\nalready taking more than an hour of fierce struggling and cramp to get\ninto our sleeping-bags--so frozen were they and so long did it take us to\nthaw our way in. No! Without the tent we were dead men.\n\n[Illustration: MT. EREBUS]\n\n[Illustration: ICE PRESSURE AT A]\n\nAnd there seemed not one chance in a million that we should ever see our\ntent again. We were 900 feet up on the mountain side, and the wind blew\nabout as hard as a wind can blow straight out to sea. First there was a\nsteep slope, so hard that a pick made little impression upon it, so\nslippery that if you started down in finnesko you never could stop: this\nended in a great ice-cliff some hundreds of feet high, and then came\nmiles of pressure ridges, crevassed and tumbled, in which you might as\nwell look for a daisy as a tent: and after that the open sea. The\nchances, however, were that the tent had just been taken up into the air\nand dropped somewhere in this sea well on the way to New Zealand.\nObviously the tent was gone.\n\nFace to face with real death one does not think of the things that\ntorment the bad people in the tracts, and fill the good people with\nbliss. I might have speculated on my chances of going to Heaven; but\ncandidly I did not care. I could not have wept if I had tried. I had no\nwish to review the evils of my past. But the past did seem to have been a\nbit wasted. The road to Hell may be paved with good intentions: the road\nto Heaven is paved with lost opportunities.\n\nI wanted those years over again. What fun I would have with them: what\nglorious fun! It was a pity. Well has the Persian said that when we come\nto die we, remembering that God is merciful, will gnaw our elbows with\nremorse for thinking of the things we have not done for fear of the Day\nof Judgment.\n\nAnd I wanted peaches and syrup--badly. We had them at the hut, sweeter\nand more luscious than you can imagine. And we had been without sugar for\na month. Yes--especially the syrup.\n\nThus impiously I set out to die, making up my mind that I was not going\nto try and keep warm, that it might not take too long, and thinking I\nwould try and get some morphia from the medical case if it got very bad.\nNot a bit heroic, and entirely true! Yes! comfortable, warm reader. Men\ndo not fear death, they fear the pain of dying.\n\nAnd then quite naturally and no doubt disappointingly to those who would\nlike to read of my last agonies (for who would not give pleasure by his\ndeath?) I fell asleep. I expect the temperature was pretty high during\nthis great blizzard, and anything near zero was very high to us. That\nand the snow which drifted over us made a pleasant wet kind of snipe\nmarsh inside our sleeping-bags, and I am sure we all dozed a good bit.\nThere was so much to worry about that there was not the least use in\nworrying; and we were so _very_ tired. We were hungry, for the last meal\nwe had had was in the morning of the day before, but hunger was not very\npressing.\n\nAnd so we lay, wet and quite fairly warm, hour after hour while the wind\nroared round us, blowing storm force continually and rising in the gusts\nto something indescribable. Storm force is force 11, and force 12 is the\nbiggest wind which can be logged: Bowers logged it force 11, but he was\nalways so afraid of overestimating that he was inclined to underrate. I\nthink it was blowing a full hurricane. Sometimes awake, sometimes dozing,\nwe had not a very uncomfortable time so far as I can remember. I knew\nthat parties which had come to Cape Crozier in the spring had experienced\nblizzards which lasted eight or ten days. But this did not worry us as\nmuch as I think it did Bill: I was numb. I vaguely called to mind that\nPeary had survived a blizzard in the open: but wasn't that in the summer?\n\nIt was in the early morning of Saturday (July 22) that we discovered the\nloss of the tent. Some time during that morning we had had our last meal.\nThe roof went about noon on Sunday and we had had no meal in the interval\nbecause our supply of oil was so low; nor could we move out of our bags\nexcept as a last necessity. By Sunday night we had been without a meal\nfor some thirty-six hours.\n\nThe rocks which fell upon us when the roof went did no damage, and though\nwe could not get out of our bags to move them, we could fit ourselves\ninto them without difficulty. More serious was the drift which began to\npile up all round and over us. It helped to keep us warm of course, but\nat the same time in these comparatively high temperatures it saturated\nour bags even worse than they were before. If we did not find the tent\n(and its recovery would be a miracle) these bags and the floor-cloth of\nthe tent on which we were lying were all we had in that fight back\nacross the Barrier which could, I suppose, have only had one end.\n\nMeanwhile we had to wait. It was nearly 70 miles home and it had taken us\nthe best part of three weeks to come. In our less miserable moments we\ntried to think out ways of getting back, but I do not remember very much\nabout that time. Sunday morning faded into Sunday afternoon,--into Sunday\nnight,--into Monday morning. Till then the blizzard had raged with\nmonstrous fury; the winds of the world were there, and they had all gone\nmad. We had bad winds at Cape Evans this year, and we had far worse the\nnext winter when the open water was at our doors. But I have never heard\nor felt or seen a wind like this. I wondered why it did not carry away\nthe earth.\n\nIn the early hours of Monday there was an occasional hint of a lull.\nOrdinarily in a big winter blizzard, when you have lived for several days\nand nights with that turmoil in your ears, the lulls are more trying than\nthe noise: \"the feel of not to feel it.\"[159] I do not remember noticing\nthat now. Seven or eight more hours passed, and though it was still\nblowing we could make ourselves heard to one another without great\ndifficulty. It was two days and two nights since we had had a meal.\n\nWe decided to get out of our bags and make a search for the tent. We did\nso, bitterly cold and utterly miserable, though I do not think any of us\nshowed it. In the darkness we could see very little, and no trace\nwhatever of the tent. We returned against the wind, nursing our faces and\nhands, and settled that we must try and cook a meal somehow. We managed\nabout the weirdest meal eaten north or south. We got the floor-cloth\nwedged under our bags, then got into our bags and drew the floor-cloth\nover our heads. Between us we got the primus alight somehow, and by hand\nwe balanced the cooker on top of it, minus the two members which had been\nblown away. The flame flickered in the draughts. Very slowly the snow in\nthe cooker melted, we threw in a plentiful supply of pemmican, and the\nsmell of it was better than anything on earth. In time we got both tea\nand pemmican, which was full of hairs from our bags, penguin feathers,\ndirt and debris, but delicious. The blubber left in the cooker got burnt\nand gave the tea a burnt taste. None of us ever forgot that meal: I\nenjoyed it as much as such a meal could be enjoyed, and that burnt taste\nwill always bring back the memory.\n\nIt was still dark and we lay down in our bags again, but soon a little\nglow of light began to come up, and we turned out to have a further\nsearch for the tent. Birdie went off before Bill and me. Clumsily I\ndragged my eider-down out of my bag on my feet, all sopping wet: it was\nimpossible to get it back and I let it freeze: it was soon just like a\nrock. The sky to the south was as black and sinister as it could possibly\nbe. It looked as though the blizzard would be on us again at any moment.\n\nI followed Bill down the slope. We could find nothing. But, as we\nsearched, we heard a shout somewhere below and to the right. We got on a\nslope, slipped, and went sliding down quite unable to stop ourselves, and\ncame upon Birdie with the tent, the outer lining still on the bamboos.\nOur lives had been taken away and given back to us.\n\nWe were so thankful we said nothing.\n\nThe tent must have been gripped up into the air, shutting as it rose. The\nbamboos, with the inner lining lashed to them, had entangled the outer\ncover, and the whole went up together like a shut umbrella. This was our\nsalvation. If it had opened in the air nothing could have prevented its\ndestruction. As it was, with all the accumulated ice upon it, it must\nhave weighed the best part of 100 lbs. It had been dropped about half a\nmile away, at the bottom of a steep slope: and it fell in a hollow, still\nshut up. The main force of the wind had passed over it, and there it was,\nwith the bamboos and fastenings wrenched and strained, and the ends of\ntwo of the poles broken, but the silk untorn.\n\nIf that tent went again we were going with it. We made our way back up\nthe slope with it, carrying it solemnly and reverently, precious as\nthough it were something not quite of the earth. And we dug it in as\ntent was never dug in before; not by the igloo, but in the old place\nfarther down where we had first arrived. And while Bill was doing this\nBirdie and I went back to the igloo and dug and scratched and shook away\nthe drift inside until we had found nearly all our gear. It is wonderful\nhow little we lost when the roof went. Most of our gear was hung on the\nsledge, which was part of the roof, or was packed into the holes of the\nhut to try and make it drift-proof, and the things must have been blown\ninwards into the bottom of the hut by the wind from the south and the\nback draught from the north. Then they were all drifted up. Of course a\ncertain number of mitts and socks were blown away and lost, but the only\nimportant things were Bill's fur mitts, which were stuffed into a hole in\nthe rocks of the hut. We loaded up the sledge and pushed it down the\nslope. I don't know how Birdie was feeling, but I felt so weak that it\nwas the greatest labour. The blizzard looked right on top of us.\n\nWe had another meal, and we wanted it: and as the good hoosh ran down\ninto our feet and hands, and up into our cheeks and ears and brains, we\ndiscussed what we would do next. Birdie was all for another go at the\nEmperor penguins. Dear Birdie, he never would admit that he was beaten--I\ndon't know that he ever really was! \"I think he (Wilson) thought he had\nlanded us in a bad corner and was determined to go straight home, though\nI was for one other tap at the Rookery. However, I had placed myself\nunder his orders for this trip voluntarily, and so we started the next\nday for home.\"[160] There could really be no common-sense doubt: we had\nto go back, and we were already very doubtful whether we should ever\nmanage to get into our sleeping-bags in very low temperature, so ghastly\nhad they become.\n\nI don't know when it was, but I remember walking down that slope--I don't\nknow why, perhaps to try and find the bottom of the cooker--and thinking\nthat there was nothing on earth that a man under such circumstances\nwould not give for a good warm sleep. He would give everything he\npossessed: he would give--how many--years of his life. One or two at any\nrate--perhaps five? Yes--I would give five. I remember the sastrugi, the\nview of the Knoll, the dim hazy black smudge of the sea far away below:\nthe tiny bits of green canvas that twittered in the wind on the surface\nof the snow: the cold misery of it all, and the weakness which was biting\ninto my heart.\n\nFor days Birdie had been urging me to use his eider-down lining--his\nbeautiful dry bag of the finest down--which he had never slipped into his\nown fur bag. I had refused: I felt that I should be a beast to take it.\n\nWe packed the tank ready for a start back in the morning and turned in,\nutterly worn out. It was only -12° that night, but my left big toe was\nfrost-bitten in my bag which I was trying to use without an eider-down\nlining, and my bag was always too big for me. It must have taken several\nhours to get it back, by beating one foot against the other. When we got\nup, as soon as we could, as we did every night, for our bags were nearly\nimpossible, it was blowing fairly hard and looked like blizzing. We had a\nlot to do, two or three hours' work, packing sledges and making a depôt\nof what we did not want, in a corner of the igloo. We left the second\nsledge, and a note tied to the handle of the pickaxe.\n\n\"We started down the slope in a wind which was rising all the time and\n-15°. My job was to balance the sledge behind: I was so utterly done I\ndon't believe I could have pulled effectively. Birdie was much the\nstrongest of us. The strain and want of sleep was getting me in the neck,\nand Bill looked very bad. At the bottom we turned our faces to the\nBarrier, our backs to the penguins, but after doing about a mile it\nlooked so threatening in the south that we camped in a big wind, our\nhands going one after the other. We had nothing but the hardest\nwind-swept sastrugi, and it was a long business: there was only the\nsmallest amount of drift, and we were afraid the icy snow blocks would\nchafe the tent. Birdie lashed the full biscuit tin to the door to\nprevent its flapping, and also got what he called the tent downhaul round\nthe cap and then tied it about himself outside his bag: if the tent went\nhe was going too.\n\n\"I was feeling as if I should crack, and accepted Birdie's eider-down. It\nwas wonderfully self-sacrificing of him: more than I can write. I felt a\nbrute to take it, but I was getting useless unless I got some sleep which\nmy big bag would not allow. Bill and Birdie kept on telling me to do\nless: that I was doing more than my share of the work: but I think that I\nwas getting more and more weak. Birdie kept wonderfully strong: he slept\nmost of the night: the difficulty for him was to get into his bag without\ngoing to sleep. He kept the meteorological log untiringly, but some of\nthese nights he had to give it up for the time because he could not keep\nawake. He used to fall asleep with his pannikin in his hand and let it\nfall: and sometimes he had the primus.\n\n\"Bill's bag was getting hopeless: it was really too small for an\neider-down and was splitting all over the place: great long holes. He\nnever consciously slept for nights: he did sleep a bit, for we heard him.\nExcept for this night, and the next when Birdie's eider-down was still\nfairly dry, I never consciously slept; except that I used to wake for\nfive or six nights running with the same nightmare--that we were drifted\nup, and that Bill and Birdie were passing the gear into my bag, cutting\nit open to do so, or some other variation,--I did not know that I had\nbeen asleep at all.\"[161]\n\n\"We had hardly reached the pit,\" wrote Bowers, \"when a furious wind came\non again and we had to camp. All that night the tent flapped like the\nnoise of musketry, owing to two poles having been broken at the ends and\nthe fit spoilt. I thought it would end matters by going altogether and\nlashed it down as much as I could, attaching the apex to a line round my\nown bag. The wind abated after 1½ days and we set out, doing five or six\nmiles before we found ourselves among crevasses.\"[162]\n\nWe had plugged ahead all that day (July 26) in a terrible light,\nblundering in among pressure and up on to the slopes of Terror. The\ntemperature dropped from -21° to -45°. \"Several times [we] stepped into\nrotten-lidded crevasses in smooth wind-swept ice. We continued, however,\nfeeling our way along by keeping always off hard ice-slopes and on the\ncrustier deeper snow which characterizes the hollows of the pressure\nridges, which I believed we had once more fouled in the dark. We had no\nlight, and no landmarks to guide us, except vague and indistinct\nsilhouetted slopes ahead, which were always altering and whose distance\nand character it was impossible to judge. We never knew whether we were\napproaching a steep slope at close quarters or a long slope of Terror,\nmiles away, and eventually we travelled on by the ear, and by the feel of\nthe snow under our feet, for both the sound and the touch told one much\nof the chances of crevasses or of safe going. We continued thus in the\ndark in the hope that we were at any rate in the right direction.\"[163]\nAnd then we camped after getting into a bunch of crevasses, completely\nlost. Bill said, \"At any rate I think we are well clear of the pressure.\"\nBut there were pressure pops all night, as though some one was whacking\nan empty tub.\n\nIt was Birdie's picture hat which made the trouble next day. \"What do you\nthink of _that_ for a hat, sir?\" I heard him say to Scott a few days\nbefore we started, holding it out much as Lucille displays her latest\nParis model. Scott looked at it quietly for a time: \"I'll tell you when\nyou come back, Birdie,\" he said. It was a complicated affair with all\nkinds of nose-guards and buttons and lanyards: he thought he was going to\nset it to suit the wind much as he would set the sails of a ship. We\nspent a long time with our housewifes before this and other trips, for\neverybody has their own ideas as to how to alter their clothing for the\nbest. When finished some looked neat, like Bill: others baggy, like Scott\nor Seaman Evans: others rough and ready, like Oates and Bowers: a few\nperhaps more rough than ready, and I will not mention names. Anyway\nBirdie's hat became improper immediately it was well iced up.\n\n\"When we got a little light in the morning we found we were a little\nnorth of the two patches of moraine on Terror. Though we did not know it,\nwe were on the point where the pressure runs up against Terror, and we\ncould dimly see that we were right up against something. We started to\ntry and clear it, but soon had an enormous ridge, blotting out the\nmoraine and half Terror, rising like a great hill on our right. Bill said\nthe only thing was to go right on and hope it would lower; all the time,\nhowever, there was a bad feeling that we might be putting any number of\nridges between us and the mountain. After a while we tried to cross this\none, but had to turn back for crevasses, both Bill and I putting a leg\ndown. We went on for about twenty minutes and found a lower place, and\nturned to rise up it diagonally, and reached the top. Just over the top\nBirdie went right down a crevasse, which was about wide enough to take\nhim. He was out of sight and out of reach from the surface, hanging in\nhis harness. Bill went for his harness, I went for the bow of the sledge:\nBill told me to get the Alpine rope and Birdie directed from below what\nwe could do. We could not possibly haul him up as he was, for the sides\nof the crevasse were soft and he could not help himself.\"[164]\n\n\"My helmet was so frozen up,\" wrote Bowers, \"that my head was encased in\na solid block of ice, and I could not look down without inclining my\nwhole body. As a result Bill stumbled one foot into a crevasse and I\nlanded in it with both mine [even as I shouted a warning[165] ], the\nbridge gave way and down I went. Fortunately our sledge harness is made\nwith a view to resisting this sort of thing, and there I hung with the\nbottomless pit below and the ice-crusted sides alongside, so narrow that\nto step over it would have been quite easy had I been able to see it.\nBill said, 'What do you want?' I asked for an Alpine rope with a bowline\nfor my foot: and taking up first the bowline and then my harness they got\nme out.\"[166] Meanwhile on the surface I lay over the crevasse and gave\nBirdie the bowline: he put it on his foot: then he raised his foot,\ngiving me some slack: I held the rope while he raised himself on his\nfoot, thus giving Bill some slack on the harness: Bill then held the\nharness, allowing Birdie to raise his foot and give me some slack again.\nWe got him up inch by inch, our fingers getting bitten, for the\ntemperature was -46°. Afterwards we often used this way of getting people\nout of crevasses, and it was a wonderful piece of presence of mind that\nit was invented, so far as I know, on the spur of the moment by a frozen\nman hanging in one himself.\n\n\"In front of us we could see another ridge, and we did not know how many\nlay beyond that. Things looked pretty bad. Bill took a long lead on the\nAlpine rope and we got down our present difficulty all right. This method\nof the leader being on a long trace in front we all agreed to be very\nuseful. From this moment our luck changed and everything went for us to\nthe end. When we went out on the sea-ice the whole experience was over in\na few days, Hut Point was always in sight, and there was daylight. I\nalways had the feeling that the whole series of events had been brought\nabout by an extraordinary run of accidents, and that after a certain\nstage it was quite beyond our power to guide the course of them. When on\nthe way to Cape Crozier the moon suddenly came out of the cloud to show\nus a great crevasse which would have taken us all with our sledge without\nany difficulty, I felt that we were not to go under this trip after such\na deliverance. When we had lost our tent, and there was a very great\nbalance of probability that we should never find it again, and we were\nlying out the blizzard in our bags, I saw that we were face to face with\na long fight against cold which we could not have survived. I cannot\nwrite how helpless I believed we were to help ourselves, and how we were\nbrought out of a very terrible series of experiences. When we started\nback I had a feeling that things were going to change for the better, and\nthis day I had a distinct idea that we were to have one more bad\nexperience and that after that we could hope for better things.\n\n[Illustration: DOWN A CREVASSE]\n\n\"By running along the hollow we cleared the pressure ridges, and\ncontinued all day up and down, but met no crevasses. Indeed, we met no\nmore crevasses and no more pressure. I think it was upon this day that a\nwonderful glow stretched over the Barrier edge from Cape Crozier: at the\nbase it was the most vivid crimson it is possible to imagine, shading\nupwards through every shade of red to light green, and so into a deep\nblue sky. It is the most vivid red I have ever seen in the sky.\"[167]\n\nIt was -49° in the night and we were away early in -47°. By mid-day we\nwere rising Terror Point, opening Erebus rapidly, and got the first\nreally light day, though the sun would not appear over the horizon for\nanother month. I cannot describe what a relief the light was to us. We\ncrossed the point outside our former track, and saw inside us the ridges\nwhere we had been blizzed for three days on our outward journey.\n\nThe minimum was -66° the next night and we were now back in the windless\nbight of Barrier with its soft snow, low temperatures, fogs and mists,\nand lingering settlements of the inside crusts. Saturday and Sunday, the\n29th and 30th, we plugged on across this waste, iced up as usual but\nalways with Castle Rock getting bigger. Sometimes it looked like fog or\nwind, but it always cleared away. We were getting weak, how weak we can\nonly realize now, but we got in good marches, though slow--days when we\ndid 4½, 7¼ 6¾, 6½, 7½ miles. On our outward journey we had been relaying\nand getting forward about 4½ miles a day at this point. The surface which\nwe had dreaded so much was not so sandy or soft as when we had come out,\nand the settlements were more marked. These are caused by a crust falling\nunder your feet. Generally the area involved is some twenty yards or so\nround you, and the surface falls through an air space for two or three\ninches with a soft 'crush' which may at first make you think there are\ncrevasses about. In the region where we now travelled they were much more\npronounced than elsewhere, and one day, when Bill was inside the tent\nlighting the primus, I put my foot into a hole that I had dug. This\nstarted a big settlement; sledge, tent and all of us dropped about a\nfoot, and the noise of it ran away for miles and miles: we listened to it\nuntil we began to get too cold. It must have lasted a full three minutes.\n\nIn the pauses of our marching we halted in our harnesses the ropes of\nwhich lay slack in the powdery snow. We stood panting with our backs\nagainst the mountainous mass of frozen gear which was our load. There was\nno wind, at any rate no more than light airs: our breath crackled as it\nfroze. There was no unnecessary conversation: I don't know why our\ntongues never got frozen, but all my teeth, the nerves of which had been\nkilled, split to pieces. We had been going perhaps three hours since\nlunch.\n\n\"How are your feet, Cherry?\" from Bill.\n\n\"Very cold.\"\n\n\"That's all right; so are mine.\" We didn't worry to ask Birdie: he never\nhad a frost-bitten foot from start to finish.\n\nHalf an hour later, as we marched, Bill would ask the same question. I\ntell him that all feeling has gone: Bill still has some feeling in one of\nhis but the other is lost. He settled we had better camp: another ghastly\nnight ahead. We started to get out of our harnesses, while Bill, before\ndoing anything else, would take the fur mitts from his hands, carefully\nshape any soft parts as they froze (generally, however, our mitts did not\nthaw on our hands), and lay them on the snow in front of him--two dark\ndots. His proper fur mitts were lost when the igloo roof went: these were\nthe delicate dog-skin linings we had in addition, beautiful things to\nlook at and to feel when new, excellent when dry to turn the screws of a\ntheodolite, but too dainty for straps and lanyards. Just now I don't know\nwhat he could have done without them.\n\nWorking with our woollen half-mitts and mitts on our hands all the time,\nand our fur mitts over them when possible, we gradually got the buckles\nundone, and spread the green canvas floor-cloth on the snow. This was\nalso fitted to be used as a sail, but we never could have rigged a sail\non this journey. The shovel and the bamboos, with a lining, itself lined\nwith ice, lashed to them, were packed on the top of the load and were now\nput on the snow until wanted. Our next job was to lift our three\nsleeping-bags one by one on to the floor-cloth: they covered it, bulging\nover the sides--those obstinate coffins which were all our life to us....\nOne of us is off by now to nurse his fingers back. The cooker was\nunlashed from the top of the instrument box; some parts of it were put on\nthe bags with the primus, methylated spirit can, matches and so forth;\nothers left to be filled with snow later. Taking a pole in each hand we\nthree spread the bamboos over the whole. \"All right? Down!\" from Bill;\nand we lowered them gently on to the soft snow, that they might not sink\ntoo far. The ice on the inner lining of the tent was formed mostly from\nthe steam of the cooker. This we had been unable to beat or chip off in\nthe past, and we were now, truth to tell, past worrying about it. The\nlittle ventilator in the top, made to let out this steam, had been tied\nup in order to keep in all possible heat. Then over with the outer cover,\nand for one of us the third worst job of the day was to begin. The worst\njob was to get into our bags: the second or equal worst was to lie in\nthem for six hours (we had brought it down to six): this third worst was,\nto get the primus lighted and a meal on the way.\n\nAs cook of the day you took the broken metal framework, all that remained\nof our candlestick, and got yourself with difficulty into the funnel\nwhich formed the door. The enclosed space of the tent seemed much colder\nthan the outside air: you tried three or four match-boxes and no match\nwould strike: almost desperate, you asked for a new box to be given you\nfrom the sledge and got a light from this because it had not yet been in\nthe warmth, so called, of the tent. The candle hung by a wire from the\ncap of the tent. It would be tedious to tell of the times we had getting\nthe primus alight, and the lanyards of the weekly food bag unlashed.\nProbably by now the other two men have dug in the tent; squared up\noutside; filled and passed in the cooker; set the thermometer under the\nsledge and so forth. There were always one or two odd jobs which wanted\ndoing as well: but you may be sure they came in as soon as possible when\nthey heard the primus hissing, and saw the glow of light inside. Birdie\nmade a bottom for the cooker out of an empty biscuit tin to take the\nplace of the part which was blown away. On the whole this was a success,\nbut we had to hold it steady--on Bill's sleeping-bag, for the flat frozen\nbags spread all over the floor space. Cooking was a longer business now.\nSome one whacked out the biscuit, and the cook put the ration of pemmican\ninto the inner cooker which was by now half full of water. As opportunity\noffered we got out of our day, and into our night foot-gear--fleecy\ncamel-hair stockings and fur boots. In the dim light we examined our feet\nfor frost-bite.\n\nI do not think it took us less than an hour to get a hot meal to our\nlips: pemmican followed by hot water in which we soaked our biscuits. For\nlunch we had tea and biscuits: for breakfast, pemmican, biscuits and tea.\nWe could not have managed more food bags--three were bad enough, and the\nlashings of everything were like wire. The lashing of the tent door,\nhowever, was the worst, and it _had_ to be tied tightly, especially if it\nwas blowing. In the early days we took great pains to brush rime from the\ntent before packing it up, but we were long past that now.\n\nThe hoosh got down into our feet: we nursed back frost-bites: and we were\nall the warmer for having got our dry foot-gear on before supper. Then we\nstarted to get into our bags.\n\n[Illustration: PANORAMA AND MAP OF THE WINTER JOURNEY--Copied at Hut\nPoint by Apsley Cherry-Garrard from a drawing by E. A. Wilson]\n\nBirdie's bag fitted him beautifully, though perhaps it would have been a\nlittle small with an eider-down inside. He must have had a greater heat\nsupply than other men; for he never had serious trouble with his feet,\nwhile ours were constantly frost-bitten: he slept, I should be afraid to\nsay how much, longer than we did, even in these last days: it was a\npleasure, lying awake practically all night, to hear his snores. He\nturned his bag inside out from fur to skin, and skin to fur, many times\nduring the journey, and thus got rid of a lot of moisture which came\nout as snow or actual knobs of ice. When we did turn our bags the only\nway was to do so directly we turned out, and even then you had to be\nquick before the bag froze. Getting out of the tent at night it was quite\na race to get back to your bag before it hardened. Of course this was in\nthe lowest temperatures.\n\nWe could not burn our bags and we tried putting the lighted primus into\nthem to thaw them out, but this was not very successful. Before this\ntime, when it was very cold, we lighted the primus in the morning while\nwe were still in our bags: and in the evening we kept it going until we\nwere just getting or had got the mouths of our bags levered open. But\nreturning we had no oil for such luxuries, until the last day or two.\n\nI do not believe that any man, however sick he is, has a much worse time\nthan we had in those bags, shaking with cold until our backs would almost\nbreak. One of the added troubles which came to us on our return was the\nsodden condition of our hands in our bags at night. We had to wear our\nmitts and half-mitts, and they were as wet as they could be: when we got\nup in the morning we had washer-women's hands--white, crinkled, sodden.\nThat was an unhealthy way to start the day's work. We really wanted some\nbags of saennegrass for hands as well as feet; one of the blessings of\nthat kind of bag being that you can shake the moisture from it: but we\nonly had enough for our wretched feet.\n\nThe horrors of that return journey are blurred to my memory and I know\nthey were blurred to my body at the time. I think this applies to all of\nus, for we were much weakened and callous. The day we got down to the\npenguins I had not cared whether I fell into a crevasse or not. We had\nbeen through a great deal since then. I know that we slept on the march;\nfor I woke up when I bumped against Birdie, and Birdie woke when he\nbumped against me. I think Bill steering out in front managed to keep\nawake. I know we fell asleep if we waited in the comparatively warm tent\nwhen the primus was alight--with our pannikins or the primus in our\nhands. I know that our sleeping-bags were so full of ice that we did not\nworry if we spilt water or hoosh over them as they lay on the\nfloor-cloth, when we cooked on them with our maimed cooker. They were so\nbad that we never rolled them up in the usual way when we got out of them\nin the morning: we opened their mouths as much as possible before they\nfroze, and hoisted them more or less flat on to the sledge. All three of\nus helped to raise each bag, which looked rather like a squashed coffin\nand was probably a good deal harder. I know that if it was only -40° when\nwe camped for the night we considered quite seriously that we were going\nto have a warm one, and that when we got up in the morning if the\ntemperature was in the minus sixties we did not enquire what it was. The\nday's march was bliss compared to the night's rest, and both were awful.\nWe were about as bad as men can be and do good travelling: but I never\nheard a word of complaint, nor, I believe, an oath, and I saw\nself-sacrifice standing every test.\n\nAlways we were getting nearer home: and we were doing good marches. We\nwere going to pull through; it was only a matter of sticking this for a\nfew more days; six, five, four ... three perhaps now, if we were not\nblizzed. Our main hut was behind that ridge where the mist was always\nforming and blowing away, and there was Castle Rock: we might even see\nObservation Hill to-morrow, and the Discovery Hut furnished and trim was\nbehind it, and they would have sent some dry sleeping-bags from Cape\nEvans to greet us there. We reckoned our troubles over at the Barrier\nedge, and assuredly it was not far away. \"You've got it in the neck,\nstick it, you've got it in the neck\"--it was always running in my head.\n\nAnd we _did_ stick it. How good the memories of those days are. With\njokes about Birdie's picture hat: with songs we remembered off the\ngramophone: with ready words of sympathy for frost-bitten feet: with\ngenerous smiles for poor jests: with suggestions of happy beds to come.\nWe did not forget the Please and Thank you, which mean much in such\ncircumstances, and all the little links with decent civilization which\nwe could still keep going. I'll swear there was still a grace about us\nwhen we staggered in. And we kept our tempers--even with God.\n\nWe _might_ reach Hut Point to-night: we were burning more oil now, that\none-gallon tin had lasted us well: and burning more candle too; at one\ntime we feared they would give out. A hell of a morning we had: -57° in\nour present state. But it was calm, and the Barrier edge could not be\nmuch farther now. The surface was getting harder: there were a few\nwind-blown furrows, the crust was coming up to us. The sledge was\ndragging easier: we always suspected the Barrier sloped downwards\nhereabouts. Now the hard snow was on the surface, peeping out like great\ninverted basins on which we slipped, and our feet became warmer for not\nsinking into soft snow. Suddenly we saw a gleam of light in a line of\ndarkness running across our course. It was the Barrier edge: we were all\nright now.\n\nWe ran the sledge off a snow-drift on to the sea-ice, with the same cold\nstream of air flowing down it which wrecked my hands five weeks ago:\npushed out of this, camped and had a meal: the temperature had already\nrisen to -43°. We could almost feel it getting warmer as we went round\nCape Armitage on the last three miles. We managed to haul our sledge up\nthe ice foot, and dug the drift away from the door. The old hut struck us\nas fairly warm.\n\nBill was convinced that we ought not to go into the warm hut at Cape\nEvans when we arrived there--to-morrow night! We ought to get back to\nwarmth gradually, live in a tent outside, or in the annexe for a day or\ntwo. But I'm sure we never meant to do it. Just now Hut Point did not\nprejudice us in favour of such abstinence. It was just as we had left it:\nthere was nothing sent down for us there--no sleeping-bags, nor sugar:\nbut there was plenty of oil. Inside the hut we pitched a dry tent left\nthere since Depôt Journey days, set two primuses going in it; sat dozing\non our bags; and drank cocoa without sugar so thick that next morning we\nwere gorged with it. We were very happy, falling asleep between each\nmouthful, and after several hours discussed schemes of not getting into\nour bags at all. But some one would have to keep the primus going to\nprevent frost-bite, and we could not trust ourselves to keep awake. Bill\nand I tried to sing a part-song. Finally we sopped our way into our bags.\nWe only stuck _them_ three hours, and thankfully turned out at 3 A.M.,\nand were ready to pack up when we heard the wind come away. It was no\ngood, so we sat in our tent and dozed again. The wind dropped at 9.30: we\nwere off at 11. We walked out into what seemed to us a blaze of light. It\nwas not until the following year that I understood that a great part of\nsuch twilight as there is in the latter part of the winter was cut off\nfrom us by the mountains under which we travelled. Now, with nothing\nbetween us and the northern horizon below which lay the sun, we saw as we\nhad not seen for months, and the iridescent clouds that day were\nbeautiful.\n\nWe just pulled for all we were worth and did nearly two miles an hour:\nfor two miles a baddish salt surface, then big undulating hard sastrugi\nand good going. We slept as we walked. We had done eight miles by 4 P.M.\nand were past Glacier Tongue. We lunched there.\n\nAs we began to gather our gear together to pack up for the last time,\nBill said quietly, \"I want to thank you two for what you have done. I\ncouldn't have found two better companions--and what is more I never\nshall.\"\n\nI am proud of that.\n\nAntarctic exploration is seldom as bad as you imagine, seldom as bad as\nit sounds. But this journey had beggared our language: no words could\nexpress its horror.\n\nWe trudged on for several more hours and it grew very dark. There was a\ndiscussion as to where Cape Evans lay. We rounded it at last: it must\nhave been ten or eleven o'clock, and it was possible that some one might\nsee us as we pulled towards the hut. \"Spread out well,\" said Bill, \"and\nthey will be able to see that there are three men.\" But we pulled along\nthe cape, over the tide-crack, up the bank to the very door of the hut\nwithout a sound. No noise from the stable, nor the bark of a dog from the\nsnowdrifts above us. We halted and stood there trying to get ourselves\nand one another out of our frozen harnesses--the usual long job. The door\nopened--\"Good God! here is the Crozier Party,\" said a voice, and\ndisappeared.\n\nThus ended the worst journey in the world.\n\nAnd now the reader will ask what became of the three penguins' eggs for\nwhich three human lives had been risked three hundred times a day, and\nthree human frames strained to the utmost extremity of human endurance.\n\nLet us leave the Antarctic for a moment and conceive ourselves in the\nyear 1913 in the Natural History Museum in South Kensington. I had\nwritten to say that I would bring the eggs at this time. Present, myself,\nC.-G., the sole survivor of the three, with First or Doorstep Custodian\nof the Sacred Eggs. I did not take a verbatim report of his welcome; but\nthe spirit of it may be dramatized as follows:\n\nFIRST CUSTODIAN. Who are you? What do you want? This ain't an egg-shop.\nWhat call have you to come meddling with our eggs? Do you want me to put\nthe police on to you? Is it the crocodile's egg you're after? I don't\nknow nothing about 'no eggs. You'd best speak to Mr. Brown: it's him that\nvarnishes the eggs.\n\nI resort to Mr. Brown, who ushers me into the presence of the Chief\nCustodian, a man of scientific aspect, with two manners: one, affably\ncourteous, for a Person of Importance (I guess a Naturalist Rothschild at\nleast) with whom he is conversing, and the other, extraordinarily\noffensive even for an official man of science, for myself.\n\nI announce myself with becoming modesty as the bearer of the penguins'\neggs, and proffer them. The Chief Custodian takes them into custody\nwithout a word of thanks, and turns to the Person of Importance to\ndiscuss them. I wait. The temperature of my blood rises. The conversation\nproceeds for what seems to me a considerable period. Suddenly the Chief\nCustodian notices my presence and seems to resent it.\n\nCHIEF CUSTODIAN. You needn't wait.\n\nHEROIC EXPLORER. I should like to have a receipt for the eggs, if you\nplease.\n\nCHIEF CUSTODIAN. It is not necessary: it is all right. You needn't wait.\n\nHEROIC EXPLORER. I should like to have a receipt.\n\nBut by this time the Chief Custodian's attention is again devoted wholly\nto the Person of Importance. Feeling that to persist in overhearing their\nconversation would be an indelicacy, the Heroic Explorer politely leaves\nthe room, and establishes himself on a chair in a gloomy passage outside,\nwhere he wiles away the time by rehearsing in his imagination how he will\ntell off the Chief Custodian when the Person of Importance retires. But\nthis the Person of Importance shows no sign of doing, and the Explorer's\nthoughts and intentions become darker and darker. As the day wears on,\nminor officials, passing to and from the Presence, look at him doubtfully\nand ask his business. The reply is always the same, \"I am waiting for a\nreceipt for some penguins' eggs.\" At last it becomes clear from the\nExplorer's expression that what he is really waiting for is not to take a\nreceipt but to commit murder. Presumably this is reported to the destined\nvictim: at all events the receipt finally comes; and the Explorer goes\nhis way with it, feeling that he has behaved like a perfect gentleman,\nbut so very dissatisfied with that vapid consolation that for hours he\ncontinues his imaginary rehearsals of what he would have liked to have\ndone to that Custodian (mostly with his boots) by way of teaching him\nmanners.\n\nSome time after this I visited the Natural History Museum with Captain\nScott's sister. After a slight preliminary skirmish in which we convinced\na minor custodian that the specimens brought by the expedition from the\nAntarctic did not include the moths we found preying on some of them,\nMiss Scott expressed a wish to see the penguins' eggs. Thereupon the\nminor custodians flatly denied that any such eggs were in existence or in\ntheir possession. Now Miss Scott was her brother's sister; and she showed\nso little disposition to take this lying down that I was glad to get her\naway with no worse consequences than a profanely emphasized threat on my\npart that if we did not receive ample satisfaction in writing within\ntwenty-four hours as to the safety of the eggs England would reverberate\nwith the tale.\n\nThe ultimatum was effectual; and due satisfaction was forthcoming in\ntime; but I was relieved when I learnt later on that they had been\nentrusted to Professor Assheton for the necessary microscopic\nexamination. But he died before he could approach the task; and the eggs\npassed into the hands of Professor Cossar Ewart of Edinburgh University.\n\nHis report is as follows:\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n [150] See pp. xxxix-xlv.\n\n [151] A thermometer which registered -77° at the Winter Quarters\n of H.M.S. Alert on March 4, 1876, is preserved by the Royal\n Geographical Society. I do not know whether it was screened.\n\n [152] My own diary.\n\n [153] My own diary.\n\n [154] My own diary.\n\n [155] Ibid.\n\n [156] See Introduction, pp. xxxix-xlv.\n\n [157] See p. 82.\n\n [158] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. ii. p. 42.\n\n [159] Keats.\n\n [160] Bowers.\n\n [161] My own diary.\n\n [162] Bowers.\n\n [163] Wilson in _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. ii. p. 58.\n\n [164] My own diary.\n\n [165] Wilson.\n\n [166] Bowers.\n\n [167] My own diary.\n\n\n\n\nAPPENDIX\n\nPROFESSOR COSSAR EWART'S REPORT\n\n\n\"It was a great disappointment to Dr. Wilson that no Emperor Penguin\nembryos were obtained during the cruise of the Discovery. But though\nembryos were conspicuous by their absence in the Emperor eggs brought\nhome by the National Antarctic Expedition, it is well to bear in mind\nthat the naturalists on board the Discovery learned much about the\nbreeding habits of the largest living member of the ancient penguin\nfamily. Amongst other things it was ascertained (1) that in the case of\nthe Emperor, as in the King Penguin, the egg during the period of\nincubation rests on the upper surface of the feet protected and kept in\nposition by a fold of skin from the lower breast; and (2) that in the\ncase of the Emperor the whole process of incubation is carried out on sea\nice during the coldest and darkest months of the antarctic winter.\n\n\"After devoting much time to the study of penguins Dr. Wilson came to the\nconclusion that Emperor embryos would throw new light on the origin and\nhistory of birds, and decided that if he again found his way to the\nAntarctic he would make a supreme effort to visit an Emperor rookery\nduring the breeding season. When, and under what conditions, the Cape\nCrozier rookery was eventually visited and Emperor eggs secured is\ngraphically told in The Winter Journey. The question now arises, Has 'the\nweirdest bird's-nesting expedition that has ever been made' added\nappreciably to our knowledge of birds?\n\n\"It is admitted that birds are descended from bipedal reptiles which\nflourished some millions of years ago--reptiles in build not unlike the\nkangaroo. From Archaeopteryx of Jurassic times we know primeval birds had\nteeth, three fingers with claws on each hand, and a long lizard-like tail\nprovided with nearly twenty pairs of well-formed true feathers. But\nunfortunately neither this lizard-tailed bird, nor yet the fossil birds\nfound in America, throw any light on the origin of feathers.\nOrnithologists and others who have devoted much time to the study of\nbirds have as a rule assumed that feathers were made out of scales, that\nthe scales along the margin of the hand and forearm and along each side\nof the tail were elongated, frayed and otherwise modified to form the\nwing and tail quills, and that later other scales were altered to provide\na coat capable of preventing loss of heat. But as it happens, a study of\nthe development of feathers affords no evidence that they were made out\nof scales. There are neither rudiments of scales nor feathers in very\nyoung bird embryos. In the youngest of the three Emperor embryos there\nare, however, feather rudiments in the tail region,--the embryo was\nprobably seven or eight days old--but in the two older embryos there are\na countless number of feather rudiments, i.e. of minute pimples known\nas papillae.\n\n\"In penguins as in many other birds there are two distinct crops of\nfeather papillae, viz.: a crop of relatively large papillae which develop\ninto prepennae, the forerunners of true feathers (pennae), and a crop of\nsmall papillae which develop into preplumulae, the forerunners of true\ndown feathers (plumulae).\n\n\"In considering the origin of feathers we are not concerned with the true\nfeathers (pennae), but with the nestling feathers (prepennae), and more\nespecially with the papillae from which the prepennae are developed. What\nwe want to know is, Do the papillae which in birds develop into the\nfirst generation of feathers correspond to the papillae which in lizards\ndevelop into scales?\n\n\"The late Professor Assheton, who undertook the examination of some of\nthe material brought home by the Terra Nova, made a special study of the\nfeather papillae of the Emperor Penguin embryos from Cape Crozier.\nDrawings were made to indicate the number, size and time of appearance of\nthe feather papillae, but unfortunately in the notes left by the\ndistinguished embryologist there is no indication whether the feather\npapillae were regarded as modified scale papillae or new creations\nresulting from the appearance of special feather-forming factors in the\ngerm-plasm.\n\n\"When eventually the three Emperor Penguin embryos reached me that their\nfeather rudiments might be compared with the feather rudiments of other\nbirds, I noticed that in Emperor embryos the feather papillae appeared\nbefore the scale papillae. Evidence of this was especially afforded by\nthe largest embryo, which had reached about the same stage in its\ndevelopment as a 16-days goose embryo.\n\n\"In the largest Emperor embryo feather papillae occur all over the\nhind-quarters and on the legs to within a short distance of the tarsal\njoint. Beyond the tarsal joint even in the largest embryo no attempt had\nbeen made to produce the papillae which in older penguin embryos\nrepresent, and ultimately develop into, the scaly covering of the foot.\nThe absence of papillae on the foot implied either that the scale\npapillae were fundamentally different from feather papillae or that for\nsome reason or other the development of the papillae destined to give\nrise to the foot scales had been retarded. There is no evidence as far as\nI can ascertain that in modern lizards the scale papillae above the\ntarsal joint appear before the scale papillae beyond this joint.\n\n\"The absence of papillae below the tarsal joint in Emperor embryos,\ntogether with the fact that in many birds each large feather papilla is\naccompanied by two or more very small feather papillae, led me to study\nthe papillae of the limbs of other birds. The most striking results were\nobtained from the embryos of Chinese geese in which the legs are\nrelatively longer than in penguins. In a 13-days goose embryo the whole\nof the skin below and for some distance above the tarsal joint is quite\nsmooth, whereas the skin of the rest of the leg is studded with feather\npapillae. On the other hand, in an 18-days goose embryo in which the\nfeather papillae of the legs have developed into filaments, each\ncontaining a fairly well-formed feather, scale papillae occur not only on\nthe foot below and for some distance above the tarsal joint but also\nbetween the roots of the feather filaments between the tarsal and the\nknee joints. More important still, in a 20-days goose embryo a number of\nthe papillae situated between the feather filaments of the leg were\nactually developing into scales each of which overlapped the root\n(calamus) of a feather just as scales overlap the foot feathers in grouse\nand other feather-footed birds.\n\n\"As in bird embryos there is no evidence that feather papillae ever\ndevelop into scales or that scale papillae ever develop into feathers it\nmay be assumed that feather papillae are fundamentally different from\nscale papillae, the difference presumably being due to the presence of\nspecial factors in the germ-plasm. Just as in armadillos hairs are found\nemerging from under the scales, in ancient birds as in the feet of some\nmodern birds the coat probably consisted of both feathers and scales. But\nin course of time, owing perhaps to the growth of the scales being\narrested, the coat of the birds, instead of consisting throughout of\nwell-developed scales and small inconspicuous feathers, was almost\nentirely made up of a countless number of downy feathers, well-developed\nscales only persisting below the tarsal joint.\n\n\"If the conclusions arrived at with the help of the Emperor Penguin\nembryos about the origin of feathers are justified, the worst journey in\nthe world in the interest of science was not made in vain.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nEND OF VOLUME ONE\n\n_Printed in Great Britain by_ R. & R. CLARK, LIMITED, _Edinburgh._\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: A HALO ROUND THE MOON--E. A. Wilson, del.]\n\n\n\n\nTHE WORST JOURNEY\n\nIN THE WORLD\n\nANTARCTIC\n\n1910-1913\n\nBY\n\nAPSLEY CHERRY-GARRARD\n\nWITH PANORAMAS, MAPS, AND ILLUSTRATIONS BY THE LATE\n\nDOCTOR EDWARD A. WILSON AND OTHER MEMBERS OF THE EXPEDITION\n\nIN TWO VOLUMES\n\n\nVOLUME TWO\n\nCONSTABLE AND COMPANY LIMITED\n\nLONDON BOMBAY SYDNEY\n\n_First published 1922_\n\nPRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n PAGE\nCHAPTER VIII SPRING 301\nCHAPTER IX THE POLAR JOURNEY. I. THE BARRIER STAGE 317\nCHAPTER X THE POLAR JOURNEY. II. THE BEARDMORE GLACIER 350\nCHAPTER XI THE POLAR JOURNEY. III. THE PLATEAU TO 87° 32´ S 368\nCHAPTER XII THE POLAR JOURNEY. IV. RETURNING PARTIES 380\nCHAPTER XIII SUSPENSE 408\nCHAPTER XIV THE LAST WINTER 436\nCHAPTER XV ANOTHER SPRING 459\nCHAPTER XVI THE SEARCH JOURNEY 472\nCHAPTER XVII THE POLAR JOURNEY. V. THE POLE AND AFTER 496\nCHAPTER XVIII THE POLAR JOURNEY. VI. FARTHEST SOUTH 527\nCHAPTER XIX NEVER AGAIN 543\nGLOSSARY 579\nINDEX 581\n\n\n\n\nILLUSTRATIONS\n\nA Halo round the Moon, showing vertical and horizontal shafts\n and mock Moons. _Frontispiece_\n _From a water-colour drawing by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._\n\n FACING PAGE\n\nCamp on the Barrier. November 22, 1911. A rough sketch\n for future use. 322\n _From a sketch by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._\n\nParhelia. For description, see text. November 14, 1911. A\n rough sketch for future use. 332\n _From a sketch by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._\n\nPLATE III. The Mountains which lie between the Barrier and\n the Plateau as seen on December 1, 1911. 338\n _From sketches by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._\n\nA Pony Camp on the Barrier. 346\n\nThe Dog Teams leaving the Beardmore Glacier. Mount Hope\n and the Gateway before them. 346\n _From photographs by C. S. Wright._\n\nPLATE IV. Transit sketch for the Lower Glacier Depôt.\n December 11, 1911. Showing the Pillar Rock, mainland\n mountains, the Gateway or Gap, and the beginning of the\n main Beardmore Glacier outlet on to the Barrier. 352\n _From sketches by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._\n\nPLATE V. Mount F. L. Smith and the land to the North-West.\n December 12, 1911. 354\n _From sketches by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._\n\nPLATE VI. Mount Elizabeth, Mount Anne and Socks Glacier.\n December 13, 1911. 356\n _From sketches by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._\n\nMount Patrick. December 16, 1911. 358\n _From a sketch by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._\n\nPLATE VII. From Mount Deakin to Mount Kinsey, showing\n the outlet of the Keltie Glacier, and Mount Usher in the\n distance. December 19, 1911. 362\n _From sketches by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._\n\nOur night Camp at the foot of the Buckley Island ice-falls.\n December 20, 1911. Buckley Island in the background.\n Note ablation pits in the snow. 364\n _From a photograph by C. S. Wright._\n\nThe Adams Mountains. 382\n\nThe First Return Party on the Beardmore Glacier. 382\n _From photographs by C. S. Wright._\n\nCamp below the Cloudmaker. Note pressure ridges in the\n middle distance. 390\n _From a photograph by C. S. Wright._\n\nPLATE VIII. From Mount Kyffin to Mount Patrick. December\n 14, 1911. 392\n _From sketches by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._\n\nView from Arrival Heights northwards to Cape Evans and the\n Dellbridge Islands. 428\n\nCape Royds from Cape Barne, with the frozen McMurdo Sound. 428\n _From photographs by F. Debenham._\n\nCape Evans in Winter. This view is drawn when looking\n northwards from under the Ramp. 440\n _From a water-colour drawing by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._\n\nNorth Bay and the snout of the Barne Glacier from Cape Evans. 448\n _From a photograph by F. Debenham._\n\nThe Mule Party leaves Cape Evans. October 29, 1912. 472\n _From a photograph by F. Debenham._\n\nThe Dog Party leaves Hut Point. November 1, 1912. 478\n _From a photograph by F. Debenham._\n\n\"Atch\": E. L. Atkinson, commanding the Main Landing\n Party after the death of Scott. 492\n\n\"Titus\" Oates. 492\n _From photographs by C. S. Wright._\n\nThe Tent left by Amundsen at the South Pole (Polheim). 506\n _From a sketch by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._\n\nBuckley Island, where the fossils were found. 518\n _From a photograph by C. S. Wright._\n\nPLATE IX. Buckley Island, sketched during the evening of\n December 21, 1911. 522\n _From sketches by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._\n\nMount Kyffin, sketched on December 13, 1911. 524\n _From a sketch by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._\n\nWhere Evans died, showing the Pillar Rock near which the\n Lower Glacier Depôt was made. Sketched on December 11, 1911. 526\n _From a sketch by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._\n\nSledging in a high wind: the floor-cloth of the tent is the sail. 530\n _From a sketch by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._\n\nPLATE X. Mount Longstaff, sketched on December 1, 1911.\n See also PLATE III., p. 338 532\n _From sketches by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._\n\nA Blizzard Camp: the half-buried sledge is in the foreground. 536\n _From a sketch by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._\n\n\nMAP\n\nThe Polar Journey 542\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nSPRING\n\n\nInside was pandemonium. Most men had gone to bed, and I have a blurred\nmemory of men in pyjamas and dressing-gowns getting hold of me and trying\nto get the chunks of armour which were my clothes to leave my body.\nFinally they cut them off and threw them into an angular heap at the foot\nof my bunk. Next morning they were a sodden mass weighing 24 lbs. Bread\nand jam, and cocoa; showers of questions; \"You know this is the hardest\njourney ever made,\" from Scott; a broken record of George Robey on the\ngramophone which started us laughing until in our weak state we found it\ndifficult to stop. I have no doubt that I had not stood the journey as\nwell as Wilson: my jaw had dropped when I came in, so they tell me. Then\ninto my warm blanket bag, and I managed to keep awake just long enough to\nthink that Paradise must feel something like this.\n\nWe slept ten thousand thousand years, were wakened to find everybody at\nbreakfast, and passed a wonderful day, lazying about, half asleep and\nwholly happy, listening to the news and answering questions. \"We are\nlooked upon as beings who have come from another world. This afternoon I\nhad a shave after soaking my face in a hot sponge, and then a bath.\nLashly had already cut my hair. Bill looks very thin and we are all very\nblear-eyed from want of sleep. I have not much appetite, my mouth is very\ndry and throat sore with a troublesome hacking cough which I have had all\nthe journey. My taste is gone. We are getting badly spoiled, but our\nbeds are the height of all our pleasures.\"[168]\n\nBut this did not last long:\n\n\"Another very happy day doing nothing. After falling asleep two or three\ntimes I went to bed, read Kim, and slept. About two hours after each meal\nwe all want another, and after a tremendous supper last night we had\nanother meal before turning in. I have my taste back but all our fingers\nare impossible, they might be so many pieces of lead except for the pins\nand needles feeling in them which we have also got in our feet. My toes\nare very bulbous and some toe-nails are coming off. My left heel is one\nbig burst blister. Going straight out of a warm bed into a strong wind\noutside nearly bowled me over. I felt quite faint, and pulled myself\ntogether thinking it was all nerves: but it began to come on again and I\nhad to make for the hut as quickly as possible. Birdie is now full of\nschemes for doing the trip again next year. Bill says it is too great a\nrisk in the darkness, and he will not consider it, though he thinks that\nto go in August might be possible.\"[169]\n\nAnd again a day or two later:\n\n\"I came in covered with a red rash which is rather ticklish. My ankles\nand knees are a bit puffy, but my feet are not so painful as Bill's and\nBirdie's. Hands itch a bit. We must be very weak and worn out, though I\nthink Birdie is the strongest of us. He seems to be picking up very\nquickly. Bill is still very worn and rather haggard. The kindness of\neverybody would spoil an angel.\"[170]\n\nI have put these personal experiences down from my diary because they are\nthe only contemporary record I possess. Scott's own diary at this time\ncontains the statement: \"The Crozier party returned last night after\nenduring for five weeks the hardest conditions on record. They looked\nmore weather-worn than any one I have yet seen. Their faces were scarred\nand wrinkled, their eyes dull, their hands whitened and creased with the\nconstant exposure to damp and cold, yet the scars of frost-bite were\nvery few ... to-day after a night's rest our travellers are very\ndifferent in appearance and mental capacity.\"[171]\n\n\"Atch has been lost in a blizzard,\" was the news which we got as soon as\nwe could grasp anything. Since then he has spent a year of war in the\nNorth Sea, seen the Dardanelles campaign, and much fighting in France,\nand has been blown up in a monitor. I doubt whether he does not reckon\nthat night the worst of the lot. He ought to have been blown into\nhundreds of little bits, but always like some hardy indiarubber ball he\nturns up again, a little dented, but with the same tough elasticity which\nrefuses to be hurt. And with the same quiet voice he volunteers for the\nnext, and tells you how splendid everybody was except himself.\n\nIt was the blizzard of July 4, when we were lying in the windless bight\non our way to Cape Crozier, and we knew it must be blowing all round us.\nAt any rate it was blowing at Cape Evans, though it eased up in the\nafternoon, and Atkinson and Taylor went up the Ramp to read the\nthermometers there. They returned without great difficulty, and some\ndiscussion seems to have arisen as to whether it was possible to read the\ntwo screens on the sea-ice. Atkinson said he would go and read that in\nNorth Bay: Gran said he was going to South Bay. They started\nindependently at 5.30 P.M. Gran returned an hour and a quarter\nafterwards. He had gone about two hundred yards.\n\nAtkinson had not gone much farther when he decided that he had better\ngive it up, so he turned and faced the wind, steering by keeping it on\nhis cheek. We discovered afterwards that the wind does not blow quite in\nthe same direction at the end of the Cape as it does just where the hut\nlies. Perhaps it was this, perhaps his left leg carried him a little\nfarther than his right, perhaps it was that the numbing effect of a\nblizzard on a man's brain was already having its effect, certainly\nAtkinson does not know himself, but instead of striking the Cape which\nran across his true front, he found himself by an old fish trap which he\nknew was 200 yards out on the sea-ice. He made a great effort to steady\nhimself and make for the Cape, but any one who has stood in a blizzard\nwill understand how difficult that is. The snow was a blanket raging all\nround him, and it was quite dark. He walked on, and found nothing.\n\nEverything else is vague. Hour after hour he staggered about: he got his\nhand badly frost-bitten: he found pressure: he fell over it: he was\ncrawling in it, on his hands and knees. Stumbling, tumbling, tripping,\nbuffeted by the endless lash of the wind, sprawling through miles of\npunishing snow, he still seems to have kept his brain working. He found\nan island, thought it was Inaccessible, spent ages in coasting along it,\nlost it, found more pressure, and crawled along it. He found another\nisland, and the same horrible, almost senseless, search went on. Under\nthe lee of some rocks he waited for a time. His clothing was thin though\nhe had his wind-clothes, and, a horrible thought if this was to go on, he\nhad boots on his feet instead of warm finnesko. Here also he kicked out a\nhole in a drift where he might have more chance if he were forced to lie\ndown. For sleep is the end of men who get lost in blizzards. Though he\ndid not know it he must now have been out more than four hours.\n\nThere was little chance for him if the blizzard continued, but hope\nrevived when the moon showed in a partial lull. It is wonderful that he\nwas sufficiently active to grasp the significance of this, and groping\nback in his brain he found he could remember the bearing of the moon from\nCape Evans when he went to bed the night before. The hut must be\nsomewhere over there: this must be Inaccessible Island! He left the\nisland and made in that direction, but the blizzard came down again with\nadded force and the moon was blotted out. He tried to return to the\nisland and failed: then he stumbled on another island, perhaps the same\none, and waited. Again the lull came, and again he set off, and walked\nand walked, until he recognized Inaccessible Island on his left. Clearly\nhe must have been under Great Razorback Island and this is some four\nmiles from Cape Evans. The moon still showed, and on he walked and then\nat last he saw a flame.\n\nAtkinson's continued absence was not noticed at the hut until dinner was\nnearly over at 7.15; that is, until he had been absent about two hours.\nThe wind at Cape Evans had dropped though it was thick all round, and no\ngreat anxiety was felt: some went out and shouted, others went north with\na lantern, and Day arranged to light a paraffin flare on Wind Vane Hill.\nAtkinson never experienced this lull, and having seen the way blizzards\nwill sweep down the Strait though the coastline is comparatively clear\nand calm, I can understand how he was in the thick of it all the time. I\nfeel convinced that most of these blizzards are local affairs. The party\nwhich had gone north returned at 9.30 without news, and Scott became\nseriously alarmed. Between 9.30 and 10 six search parties started out.\nBut time was passing and Atkinson had been away more than six hours.\n\nThe light which Atkinson had seen was a flare of tow soaked in petrol lit\nby Day at Cape Evans. He corrected his course and before long was under\nthe rock upon which Day could be seen working like some lanky devil in\none of Dante's hells. Atkinson shouted again and again but could not\nattract his attention, and finally walked almost into the hut before he\nwas found by two men searching the Cape. \"It was all my own damned\nfault,\" he said, \"but Scott never slanged me at all.\" I really think we\nshould all have been as merciful! Wouldn't _you_?\n\nAnd that was that: but he had a beastly hand.\n\nTheoretically the sun returned to us on August 23. Practically there was\nnothing to be seen except blinding drift. But we saw his upper limb two\ndays later. In Scott's words the daylight came \"rushing\" at us. Two\nspring journeys were contemplated; and with preparations for the Polar\nJourney, and the ordinary routine work of the station, everybody had as\nmuch on his hands as he could get through.\n\nLieutenant Evans, Gran and Forde volunteered to go out to Corner Camp and\ndig out this depôt as well as that of Safety Camp. They started on\nSeptember 9 and camped on the sea-ice beyond Cape Armitage that night,\nthe minimum temperature being -45°. They dug out Safety Camp next\nmorning, and marched on towards Corner Camp. The minimum that night was\n-62.3°. The next evening they made their night camp as a blizzard was\ncoming up, the temperature at the same time being -34.5° and minimum for\nthe night -40°. This is an extremely low temperature for a blizzard. They\nmade a start in a very cold wind the next afternoon (September 12) and\ncamped at 8.30 P.M. That night was bitterly cold and they found that the\nminimum showed -73.3° for that night. Evans reports adversely on the use\nof the eider-down bag and inner tent, but here none of our Winter Journey\nmen would agree with him.[172] Most of September 13th was spent in\ndigging out Corner Camp which they left at 5 P.M., intending to travel\nback to Hut Point without stopping except for meals. They marched all\nthrough that night with two halts for meals and arrived at Hut Point at 3\nP.M. on September 14, having covered a distance of 34.6 statute miles.\nThey reached Cape Evans the following day after an absence of 6½\ndays.[173]\n\nDuring this journey Forde got his hand badly frost-bitten which\nnecessitated his return in the Terra Nova in March 1912. He owed a good\ndeal to the skilful treatment Atkinson gave it.\n\nWilson was still looking grey and drawn some days, and I was not too fit,\nbut Bowers was indefatigable. Soon after we got in from Cape Crozier he\nheard that Scott was going over to the Western Mountains: somehow or\nother he persuaded Scott to take him, and they started with Seaman Evans\nand Simpson on September 15 on what Scott calls \"a remarkably pleasant\nand instructive little spring journey,\"[174] and what Bowers called a\njolly picnic.\n\nThis picnic started from the hut in a -40° temperature, dragging 180 lbs.\nper man, mainly composed of stores for the geological party of the\nsummer. They penetrated as far north as Dunlop Island and turned back\nfrom there on September 24, reaching Cape Evans on September 29, marching\ntwenty-one miles (statute) into a blizzard wind with occasional storms of\ndrift and a temperature of -16°: and they marched a little too long; for\na storm of drift came against them and they had to camp. It is never very\neasy pitching a tent on sea-ice because there is not very much snow on\nthe ice: on this occasion it was only after they had detached the inner\ntent, which was fastened to the bamboos, that they could hold the\nbamboos, and then it was only inch by inch that they got the outer cover\non. At 9 P.M. the drift took off though the wind was as strong as ever,\nand they decided to make for Cape Evans. They arrived at 1.15 A.M. after\none of the most strenuous days which Scott could remember: and that meant\na good deal. Simpson's face was a sight! During his absence Griffith\nTaylor became meteorologist-in-chief. He was a greedy scientist, and he\nalso wielded a fluent pen. Consequently his output during the year and a\nhalf which he spent with us was large, and ranged from the results of the\ntwo excellent scientific journeys which he led in the Western Mountains,\nto this work during the latter half of September. He was a most valued\ncontributor to The South Polar Times, and his prose and poetry both had a\nbite which was never equalled by any other of our amateur journalists.\nWhen his pen was still, his tongue wagged, and the arguments he led were\nlegion. The hut was a merrier place for his presence. When the weather\nwas good he might be seen striding over the rocks with a complete\ndisregard of the effect on his clothes: he wore through a pair of boots\nquicker than anybody I have ever known, and his socks had to be mended\nwith string. Ice movement and erosion were also of interest to him, and\nalmost every day he spent some time in studying the slopes and huge\nice-cliffs of the Barne Glacier, and other points of interest. With equal\nferocity he would throw himself into his curtained bunk because he was\nbored, or emerge from it to take part in some argument which was\ntroubling the table. His diary must have been almost as long as the\nreports he wrote for Scott of his geological explorations. He was a\ndemon note-taker, and he had a passion for being equipped so that he\ncould cope with any observation which might turn up. Thus Old Griff on a\nsledge journey might have notebooks protruding from every pocket, and\nhung about his person, a sundial, a prismatic compass, a sheath knife, a\npair of binoculars, a geological hammer, chronometer, pedometer, camera,\naneroid and other items of surveying gear, as well as his goggles and\nmitts. And in his hand might be an ice-axe which he used as he went along\nto the possible advancement of science, but the certain disorganization\nof his companions.\n\nHis gaunt, untamed appearance was atoned for by a halo of good-fellowship\nwhich hovered about his head. I am sure he must have been an untidy\nperson to have in your tent: I feel equally sure that his tent-mates\nwould have been sorry to lose him. His gear took up more room than was\nstrictly his share, and his mind also filled up a considerable amount of\nspace. He always bulked large, and when he returned to the Australian\nGovernment, which had lent him for the first two sledging seasons, he\nleft a noticeable gap in our company.\n\nFrom the time we returned from Cape Crozier until now Scott had been full\nof buck. Our return had taken a weight off his mind: the return of the\ndaylight was stimulating to everybody: and to a man of his impatient and\nimpetuous temperament the end of the long period of waiting was a relief.\nAlso everything was going well. On September 10 he writes with a sigh of\nrelief that the detailed plans for the Southern Journey are finished at\nlast. \"Every figure has been checked by Bowers, who has been an enormous\nhelp to me. If the motors are successful, we shall have no difficulty in\ngetting to the Glacier, and if they fail, we shall still get there with\nany ordinary degree of good fortune. To work three units of four men from\nthat point onwards requires no small provision, but with the proper\nprovision it should take a good deal to stop the attainment of our\nobject. I have tried to take every reasonable possibility of misfortune\ninto consideration, and to so organize the parties as to be prepared to\nmeet them. I fear to be too sanguine, yet taking everything into\nconsideration I feel that our chances ought to be good.\"[175]\n\nAnd again he writes: \"Of hopeful signs for the future none are more\nremarkable than the health and spirit of our people. It would be\nimpossible to imagine a more vigorous community, and there does not seem\nto be a single weak spot in the twelve good men and true who are chosen\nfor the Southern advance. All are now experienced sledge travellers, knit\ntogether with a bond of friendship that has never been equalled under\nsuch circumstances. Thanks to these people, and more especially to Bowers\nand Petty Officer Evans, there is not a single detail of our equipment\nwhich is not arranged with the utmost care and in accordance with the\ntests of experience.\"[176]\n\nIndeed Bowers had been of the very greatest use to Scott in the working\nout of these plans. Not only had he all the details of stores at his\nfinger-tips, but he had studied polar clothing and polar food, was full\nof plans and alternative plans, and, best of all, refused to be beaten by\nany problem which presented itself. The actual distribution of weights\nbetween dogs, motors and ponies, and between the different ponies, was\nlargely left in his hands. We had only to lead our ponies out on the day\nof the start and we were sure to find our sledges ready, each with the\nright load and weight. To the leader of an expedition such a man was\nworth his weight in gold.\n\nBut now Scott became worried and unhappy. We were running things on a\nfine margin of transport, and during the month before we were due to\nstart mishap followed mishap in the most disgusting way. Three men were\nmore or less incapacitated: Forde with his frozen hand, Clissold who\nconcussed himself by a fall from a berg, and Debenham who hurt his knee\nseriously when playing foot-ball. One of the ponies, Jehu, was such a\ncrock that at one time it was decided not to take him out at all: and\nvery bad opinions were also held of Chinaman. Another dog died of a\nmysterious disease. \"It is trying,\" writes Scott, \"but I am past\ndespondency. Things must take their course.\"[177] And \"if this waiting\nwere to continue it looks as though we should become a regular party of\n'crocks.'\"[178]\n\nThen on the top of all this came a bad accident to one of the motor axles\non the eve of departure. \"To-night the motors were to be taken on to the\nfloe. The drifts made the road very uneven, and the first and best motor\noverrode its chain; the chain was replaced and the machine proceeded, but\njust short of the floe was thrust to a steep inclination by a ridge, and\nthe chain again overrode the sprockets; this time by ill fortune Day\nslipped at the critical moment and without intention jammed the throttle\nfull on. The engine brought up, but there was an ominous trickle of oil\nunder the back axle, and investigation showed that the axle casing\n(aluminium) had split. The casing had been stripped and brought into the\nhut: we may be able to do something to it, but time presses. It all goes\nto show that we want more experience and workshops. I am secretly\nconvinced that we shall not get much help from the motors, yet nothing\nhas ever happened to them that was unavoidable. A little more care and\nforesight would make them splendid allies. The trouble is that if they\nfail, no one will ever believe this.\"[179]\n\nIn the meantime Meares and Dimitri ran out to Corner Camp from Hut Point\ntwice with the two dog-teams. The first time they journeyed out and back\nin two days and a night, returning on October 15; and another very\nsimilar run was made before the end of the month.\n\nThe motor party was to start first, but was delayed until October 24.\nThey were to wait for us in latitude 80° 30´, man-hauling certain loads\non if the motors broke down. The two engineers were Day and Lashly, and\ntheir two helpers, who steered by pulling on a rope in front, were\nLieutenant Evans and Hooper. Scott was \"immensely eager that these\ntractors should succeed, even though they may not be of great help to our\nSouthern advance. A small measure of success will be enough to show their\npossibilities, their ability to revolutionize polar transport.\"[180]\n\nLashly, as the reader may know by now, was a chief stoker in the Navy,\nand accompanied Scott on his Plateau Journey in the Discovery days. The\nfollowing account of the motors' chequered career is from his diary, and\nfor permission to include here both it and the story of the adventures of\nthe Second Return Party, an extraordinarily vivid and simple narrative, I\ncannot be too grateful.\n\nAfter the motors had been two days on the sea-ice on their way to Hut\nPoint Lashly writes on 26th October 1911:\n\n\"Kicked off at 9.30; engine going well, surface much better, dropped one\ncan of petrol each and lubricating oil, lunched about two miles from Hut\nPoint. Captain Scott and supporting party came from Cape Evans to help us\nover blue ice, but they were not required. Got away again after lunch but\nwas delayed by the other sledge not being able to get along, it is\nbeginning to dawn on me the sledges are not powerful enough for the work\nas it is one continual drag over this sea-ice, perhaps it will improve on\nthe barrier, it seems we are going to be troubled with engine\noverheating; after we have run about three-quarters to a mile it is\nnecessary to stop at least half an hour to cool the engine down, then we\nhave to close up for a few minutes to allow the carbrutta to warm up or\nwe can't get the petrol to vaporize; we are getting new experiences every\nday. We arrived at Hut Point and proceeded to Cape Armitage it having\ncome on to snow pretty thickly, so we pitched our tent and waited for the\nother car to come up, she has been delayed all the afternoon and not made\nmuch headway. At 6.30 Mr. Bowers and Mr. Garrard came out to us and told\nus to come back to Hut Point for the night, where we all enjoyed\nourselves with a good hoosh and a nice night with all hands.\n\n\n \"_27th October 1911._\n\n\"This morning being fine made our way out to the cars and got them going\nafter a bit of trouble, the temperature being a bit low. I got away in\ngood style, the surface seems to be improving, it is better for running\non but very rough and the overheating is not overcome nor likely to be as\nfar as I can see. Just before arriving at the Barrier my car began to\ndevelop some strange knocking in the engine, but with the help of the\nparty with us I managed to get on the Barrier, the other car got up the\nslope in fine style and waited for me to come up; as my engine is giving\ntrouble we decided to camp, have lunch and see what is the matter. On\nopening the crank chamber we found the crank brasses broke into little\npieces, so there is nothing left to do but replace them with the spare\nones; of course this meant a cold job for Mr. Day and myself, as handling\nmetal on the Barrier is not a thing one looks forward to with pleasure.\nAnyhow we set about it after Lieutenant Evans and Hooper had rigged up a\nscreen to shelter us a bit, and by 10 P.M. we were finished and ready to\nproceed, but owing to a very low temperature we found it difficult to get\nthe engines to go, so we decided to camp for the night.\n\n\n \"_28th October 1911._\n\n\"Turned out and had another go at starting which took some little time\nowing again to the low temperature. We got away but again the trouble is\nalways staring us in the face, overheating, and the surface is so bad and\nthe pull so heavy and constant that it looks we are in for a rough time.\nWe are continually waiting for one another to come up, and every time we\nstop something has to be done, my fan got jammed and delayed us some\ntime, but have got it right again. Mr. Evans had to go back for his spare\ngear owing to some one [not] bringing it out in mistake; he had a good\ntramp as we were about 15 miles out from Hut Point.\n\n\n \"_29th October 1911._\n\n\"Again we got away, but did not get far before the other car began to\ngive trouble. I went back to see what was the matter, it seems the petrol\nis dirty due perhaps to putting in a new drum, anyhow got her up and\ncamped for lunch. After lunch made a move, and all seemed to be going\nwell when Mr. Day's car gave out at the crank brasses the same as mine,\nso we shall have to see what is the next best thing to do.\n\n\n \"_30th October 1911._\n\n\"This morning before getting the car on the way had to reconstruct our\nloads as Mr. Day's car is finished and no more use for further service.\nWe have got all four of us with one car now, things seems to be going\nfairly well, but we are still troubled with the overheating which means\nto say half our time is wasted. We can see dawning on us the harness\nbefore long. We covered seven miles and camped for the night. We are now\nabout six miles from Corner Camp.\n\n\n \"_31st October 1911._\n\n\"Got away with difficulty, and nearly reached Corner Camp, but the\nweather was unkind and forced us to camp early. One thing we have been\nable to bring along a good supply of pony food and most of the man food,\nbut so far the motor sledges have proved a failure.\n\n\n \"_1st November 1911._\n\n\"Started away with the usual amount of agony, and soon arrived at Corner\nCamp where we left a note to Captain Scott explaining the cause of our\nbreakdown. I told Mr. Evans to say this sledge won't go much farther.\nAfter getting about a mile past Corner Camp my engine gave out finally,\nso here is an end to the motor sledges. I can't say I am sorry because I\nam not, and the others are, I think, of the same opinion as myself. We\nhave had a heavy task pulling the heavy sledges up every time we stopped,\nwhich was pretty frequent, even now we have to start man-hauling we shall\nnot be much more tired than we have already been at night when we had\nfinished. Now comes the man-hauling part of the show, after reorganizing\nour sledge and taking aboard all the man food we can pull, we started\nwith 190 lbs. per man, a strong head wind made it a bit uncomfortable for\ngetting along, anyhow we made good about three miles and camped for the\nnight. The surface not being very good made the travelling a bit heavy.\n\n\"After three days' man-hauling.\n\n\n \"_5th November 1911._\n\n\"Made good about 14½ miles, if the surface would only remain as it is\nnow we could get along pretty well. We are now thinking of the ponies\nbeing on their way, hope they will get better luck than we had with the\nmotor sledges, but by what I can see they will have a tough time of it.\n\n\n \"_6th November 1911._\n\n\"To-day we have worked hard and covered a good distance 12 miles, surface\nrough but slippery, all seems to be going pretty well, but we have\ngenerally had enough by the time comes for us to camp.\n\n\n \"_7th November 1911._\n\n\"We have again made good progress, but the light was very trying,\nsometimes we could not see at all where we were going. I tried to find\nsome of the Cairns that were built by the Depôt Party last year, came\nupon one this afternoon which is about 20 miles from One Ton Depôt, so at\nthe rate we have been travelling we ought to reach there some time\nto-morrow night. Temperature to-day was pretty low, but we are beginning\nto get hardened into it now.\n\n\n \"_8th November 1911._\n\n\"Made a good start, but the surface is getting softer every day and makes\nour legs ache; we arrived at One Ton Depôt and camped. Then proceeded to\ndig out some of the provisions, we have to take on all the man food we\ncan, this is a wild-looking place no doubt, have not seen anything of the\nponies.\n\n\n \"_9th November 1911._\n\n\"To-day we have started on the second stage of our journey. Our orders\nare to proceed one degree south of One Ton Depôt and wait for the ponies\nand dogs to come up with us; as we have been making good distances each\nday, the party will hardly overtake us, but we have found to-day the load\nis much heavier to drag. We have just over 200 lbs. per man, and we have\nbeen brought up on several occasions, and to start again required a\npretty good strain on the rope, anyhow we done 10½ miles, a pretty good\nshow considering all things.\n\n\n \"_10th November 1911._\n\n\"Again we started off with plenty of vim, but it was jolly tough work,\nand it begins to tell on all of us; the surface to-day is covered with\nsoft crystals which don't improve things. To-night Hooper is pretty well\ndone up, but he have stuck it well and I hope he will, although he could\nnot tackle the food in the best of spirits, we know he wanted it. Mr.\nEvans, Mr. Day and myself could eat more, as we are just beginning to\nfeel the tightening of the belt. Made good 11¼ miles and we are now\nbuilding cairns all the way, one about three miles: then again at lunch\nand one in the afternoon and one at night. This will keep us employed.\n\n\n \"_11th November 1911._\n\n\"To-day it has been very heavy work. The surface is very bad and we are\npretty well full up, but not with food; man-hauling is no doubt the\nhardest work one can do, no wonder the motor sledges could not stand it.\nI have been thinking of the trials I witnessed of the motor engines in\nWolseley's works in Birmingham, they were pretty stiff but nothing\ncompared to the drag of a heavy load on the Barrier surface.\n\n\n \"_12th November 1911._\n\n\"To-day have been similar to the two previous days, but the light have\nbeen bad and snow have been falling which do not improve the surface; we\nhave been doing 10 miles a day Geographical and quite enough too as we\nhave all had enough by time it goes Camp.\n\n\n \"_13th November 1911._\n\n\"The weather seems to be on the change. Should not be surprised if we\ndon't get a blizzard before long, but of course we don't want that.\nHooper seems a bit fagged but he sticks it pretty well. Mr. Day keeps on\nplodding, his only complaint is should like a little more to eat.\n\n\n \"_14th November 1911._\n\n\"When we started this morning Mr. Evans said we had about 15 miles to go\nto reach the required distance. The hauling have been about the same,\nbut the weather is somewhat finer and the blizzard gone off. We did 10\nmiles and camped; have not seen anything of the main party yet but shall\nnot be surprised to see them at any time.\n\n\n \"_15th November 1911._\n\n\"We are camped after doing five miles where we are supposed to be [lat.\n80° 32´]; now we have to wait the others coming up. Mr. Evans is quite\nproud to think we have arrived before the others caught us, but we don't\nexpect they will be long although we have nothing to be ashamed of as our\ndaily distance have been good. We have built a large cairn this afternoon\nbefore turning in. The weather is cold but excellent.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nThey waited there six days before the pony party arrived, when the Upper\nBarrier Depôt (Mount Hooper) was left in the cairn.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n [168] My own diary.\n\n [169] Ibid.\n\n [170] Ibid.\n\n [171] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 361.\n\n [172] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. ii. p. 293.\n\n [173] Ibid. pp. 291-297; written by Lieutenant Evans.\n\n [174] Ibid. vol. i. p. 409.\n\n [175] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 403.\n\n [176] Ibid. p. 404.\n\n [177] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 425.\n\n [178] Ibid. p. 437.\n\n [179] Ibid. p. 429.\n\n [180] Ibid. p. 438.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nTHE POLAR JOURNEY\n\n Come, my friends,\n 'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.\n Push off, and sitting well in order smite\n The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds\n To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths\n Of all the western stars, until I die.\n It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:\n It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,\n And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.\n Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'\n We are not now that strength which in old days\n Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;\n One equal temper of heroic hearts,\n Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will\n To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.\n TENNYSON, _Ulysses._\n\n Take it all in all it is wonderful that the South Pole was\n reached so soon after the North Pole had been conquered. From\n Cape Columbia to the North Pole, straight going, is 413\n geographical miles, and Peary who took on his expedition 246\n dogs, covered this distance in 37 days. From Hut Point to the\n South Pole and back is 1532 geographical or 1766 statute miles,\n the distance to the top of the Beardmore Glacier alone being more\n than 100 miles farther than Peary had to cover to the North Pole.\n Scott travelled from Hut Point to the South Pole in 75 days, and\n to the Pole and back to his last camp in 147 days, a period of\n five months. A. C.-G.\n\n(All miles are geographical unless otherwise stated.)\n\n\nI. THE BARRIER STAGE\n\nThe departure from Cape Evans at 11 P.M. on November 1 is described by\nGriffith Taylor, who started a few days later on the second Geological\nJourney with his own party:\n\n\"On the 31st October the pony parties started. Two weak ponies led by\nAtkinson and Keohane were sent off first at 4.30, and I accompanied them\nfor about a mile. Keohane's pony rejoiced in the name of Jimmy Pigg, and\nhe stepped out much better than his fleeter-named mate Jehu. We heard\nthrough the telephone of their safe arrival at Hut Point.\n\n\"Next morning the Southern Party finished their mail, posting it in the\npacking case on Atkinson's bunk, and then at 11 A.M. the last party were\nready for the Pole. They had packed the sledges overnight, and they took\n20 lbs. personal baggage. The Owner had asked me what book he should\ntake. He wanted something fairly filling. I recommended Tyndall's\nGlaciers--if he wouldn't find it 'coolish.' He didn't fancy this! So then\nI said, 'Why not take Browning, as I'm doing?' And I believe that he did\nso.\n\n\"Wright's pony was the first harnessed to its sledge. Chinaman is Jehu's\nrival for last place, and as some compensation is easy to harness. Seaman\nEvans led Snatcher, who used to rush ahead and take the lead as soon as\nhe was harnessed. Cherry had Michael, a steady goer, and Wilson led\nNobby--the pony rescued from the killer whales in March. Scott led out\nSnippets to the sledges, and harnessed him to the foremost, with little\nAnton's help--only it turned out to be Bowers' sledge! However he\ntransferred in a few minutes and marched off rapidly to the south.\nChristopher, as usual, behaved like a demon. First they had to trice his\nfront leg up tight under his shoulder, then it took five minutes to throw\nhim. The sledge was brought up and he was harnessed in while his head was\nheld down on the floe. Finally he rose up, still on three legs, and\nstarted off galloping as well as he was able. After several violent kicks\nhis foreleg was released, and after more watch-spring flicks with his\nhind legs he set off fairly steadily. Titus can't stop him when once he\nhas started, and will have to do the fifteen miles in one lap probably!\n\n\"Dear old Titus--that was my last memory of him. Imperturbable as ever;\nnever hasty, never angry, but soothing that vicious animal, and\ndetermined to get the best out of most unpromising material in his\nendeavour to do his simple duty.\n\n\"Bowers was last to leave. His pony, Victor, nervous but not vicious, was\nsoon in the traces. I ran to the end of the Cape and watched the little\ncavalcade--already strung out into remote units--rapidly fade into the\nlonely white waste to southward.\n\n\"That evening I had a chat with Wilson over the telephone from the\nDiscovery Hut--my last communication with those five gallant\nspirits.\"[181]\n\nAll the ponies arrived at Hut Point by 4 P.M., just in time to escape a\nstiff blow. Three of them were housed with ourselves inside the hut, the\nrest being put into the verandah. The march showed that with their loads\nthe speed of the different ponies varied to such an extent that\nindividuals were soon separated by miles. \"It reminded me of a regatta or\na somewhat disorganized fleet with ships of very unequal speed.\"[182]\n\nIt was decided to change to night marching, and the following evening we\nproceeded in the following order, which was the way of our going for the\npresent. The three slowest ponies started first, namely, Jehu with\nAtkinson, Chinaman with Wright, James Pigg with Keohane. This party was\nknown as the Baltic Fleet.\n\nTwo hours later Scott's party followed; Scott with Snippets, Wilson with\nNobby, and myself with Michael.\n\nBoth these parties camped for lunch in the middle of the night's march.\nAfter another hour the remaining four men set to work to get Christopher\ninto his sledge; when he was started they harnessed in their own ponies\nas quickly as possible and followed, making a non-stop run right through\nthe night's march. It was bad for men and ponies, but it was impossible\nto camp in the middle of the march owing to Christopher. The composition\nof this party was, Oates with Christopher, Bowers with Victor, Seaman\nEvans with Snatcher, Crean with Bones.\n\nEach of these three parties was self-contained with tent, cooker and\nweekly bag, and the times of starting were so planned that the three\nparties arrived at the end of the march about the same time.\n\nThere was a strong head wind and low drift as we rounded Cape Armitage on\nour way to the Barrier and the future. Probably there were few of us who\ndid not wonder when we should see the old familiar place again.\n\nScott's party camped at Safety Camp as the Baltic fleet were getting\nunder weigh again. Soon afterwards Ponting appeared with a dog sledge and\na cinematograph,--how anomalous it seemed--which \"was up in time to catch\nthe flying rearguard which came along in fine form, Snatcher leading and\nbeing stopped every now and again--a wonderful little beast. Christopher\nhad given the usual trouble when harnessed, but was evidently subdued by\nthe Barrier Surface. However, it was not thought advisable to halt him,\nand so the party fled through in the wake of the advance guard.\"[183]\n\nImmediately afterwards Scott's party packed up. \"Good-bye and good luck,\"\nfrom Ponting, a wave of the hand not holding in a frisky pony and we had\nleft the last link with the hut. \"The future is in the lap of the gods; I\ncan think of nothing left undone to deserve success.\"[184]\n\nThe general scheme was to average 10 miles (11.5 statute) a day from Hut\nPoint to One Ton Depôt with the ponies lightly laden. From One Ton to the\nGateway a daily average of 13 miles (15 statute) was necessary to carry\ntwenty-four weekly units of food for four men each to the bottom of the\nglacier. This was the Barrier Stage of the journey, a distance of 369\nmiles (425 statute) as actually run on our sledge-meter. The twenty-four\nweekly units of food were to carry the Polar Party and two supporting\nparties forward to their farthest point, and back again to the bottom of\nthe Beardmore, where three more units were to be left in a depôt.[185]\n\nAll went well this first day on the Barrier, and encouraging messages\nleft on empty petrol drums told us that the motors were going well when\nthey passed. But the next day we passed five petrol drums which had been\ndumped. This meant that there was trouble, and some 14 miles from Hut\nPoint we learned that the big end of the No. 2 cylinder of Day's motor\nhad broken, and half a mile beyond we found the motor itself, drifted up\nwith snow, and looking a mournful wreck. The next day's march (Sunday,\nNovember 5, A.M.) brought us to Corner Camp. There were a few legs down\ncrevasses during the day but nothing to worry about.\n\nFrom here we could see to the South an ominous mark in the snow which we\nhoped might not prove to be the second motor. It was: \"the big end of No.\n1 cylinder had cracked, the machine otherwise in good order. Evidently\nthe engines are not fitted to working in this climate, a fact that should\nbe certainly capable of correction. One thing is proved; the system of\npropulsion is altogether satisfactory.\"[186] And again: \"It is a\ndisappointment. I had hoped better of the machines once they got away on\nthe Barrier Surface.\"[187]\n\nScott had set his heart upon the success of the motors. He had run them\nin Norway and Switzerland; and everything was done that care and\nforethought could suggest. At the back of his mind, I feel sure, was the\nwish to abolish the cruelty which the use of ponies and dogs necessarily\nentails. \"A small measure of success will be enough to show their\npossibilities, their ability to revolutionize polar transport. Seeing the\nmachines at work to-day [leaving Cape Evans] and remembering that every\ndefect so far shown is purely mechanical, it is impossible not to be\nconvinced of their value. But the trifling mechanical defects and lack of\nexperience show the risk of cutting out trials. A season of experiment\nwith a small workshop at hand may be all that stands between success and\nfailure.\"[188] I do not believe that Scott built high hopes on these\nmotors: but it was a chance to help those who followed him. Scott was\nalways trying to do that.\n\nDid they succeed or fail? They certainly did not help us much, the motor\nwhich travelled farthest drawing a heavy load to just beyond Corner Camp.\nBut even so fifty statute miles is fifty miles, and that they did it at\nall was an enormous advance. The distance travelled included hard and\nsoft surfaces, and we found later when the snow bridges fell in during\nthe summer that this car had crossed safely some broad crevasses. Also\nthey worked in temperatures down to -30° Fahr. All this was to the good,\nfor no motor-driven machine had travelled on the Barrier before. The\ngeneral design seemed to be right, all that was now wanted was\nexperience. As an experiment they were successful in the South, but Scott\nnever knew their true possibilities; for they were the direct ancestors\nof the 'tanks' in France.\n\nNight-marching had its advantages and disadvantages. The ponies were\npulling in the colder part of the day and resting in the warm, which was\ngood. Their coats dried well in the sun, and after a few days to get\naccustomed to the new conditions, they slept and fed in comparative\ncomfort. On the other hand the pulling surface was undoubtedly better\nwhen the sun was high and the temperature warmer. Taking one thing with\nanother there was no doubt that night-marching was better for ponies, but\nwe seldom if ever tried it man-hauling.\n\n[Illustration: CAMP ON THE BARRIER--E. A. Wilson, del.]\n\nJust now there was an amazing difference between day and night\nconditions. At midnight one was making short work of everything, nursing\nfingers after doing up harness with minus temperatures and nasty cold\nwinds: by supper time the next morning we were sitting on our sledges\nwriting up our diaries or meteorological logs, and even dabbling our bare\ntoes in the snow, but not for long! Shades of darkness! How different all\nthis was from what we had been through. My personal impression of this\nearly summer sledging on the Barrier was one of constant wonder at its\ncomfort. One had forgotten that a tent could be warm and a sleeping-bag\ndry: so deep were the contrary impressions that only actual experience\nwas convincing. \"It is a sweltering day, the air breathless, the glare\nintense--one loses sight of the fact that the temperature is low [-22°],\none's mind seeks comparison in hot sunlit streets and scorching\npavements, yet six hours ago my thumb was frost-bitten. All the\ninconveniences of frozen footwear and damp clothes and sleeping-bags have\nvanished entirely.\"[189]\n\nWe could not expect to get through this windy area of Corner Camp without\nsome bad weather. The wind-blown surface improved, the ponies took their\nheavier loads with ease, but as we came to our next camp it was banking\nup to the S.E. and the breeze freshened almost immediately. We built pony\nwalls hurriedly and by the time we had finished supper it was blowing\nforce 5 (A.M. November 6, Camp 4). There was a moderate gale with some\ndrift all day which increased to force 8 with more drift at night. It was\nimpossible to march. The drift took off a bit the next morning, and\nMeares and Dimitri with the two dog-teams appeared and camped astern of\nus. This was according to previous plan by which the dog-teams were to\nstart after us and catch us up, since they travelled faster than the\nponies. \"The snow and drift necessitated digging out ponies again and\nagain to keep them well sheltered from the wind. The walls made a\nsplendid lee, but some sledges at the extremities were buried altogether,\nand our tent being rather close to windward of our wall got the back eddy\nand was continually being snowed up above the door. After noon the snow\nceased except for surface drift. Snatcher knocked his section of the wall\nover, and Jehu did so more than ever. All ponies looked pretty miserable,\nas in spite of the shelter they were bunged up, eyes and all, in drift\nwhich had become ice and could not be removed without considerable\ndifficulty.\"[190]\n\nTowards evening it ceased drifting altogether, but a wind, force 4, kept\nup with disconcerting regularity. Eventually Atkinson's party got away at\nmidnight. \"Castle Rock is still visible, but will be closed by the north\nend of White Island in the next march--then good-bye to the old landmarks\nfor many a long day.\"[191]\n\nThe next day (November 8-9) \"started at midnight and had a very pleasant\nmarch. Truly sledging in such weather is great. Mounts Discovery and\nMorning, which we gradually closed, looked fine in the general panorama\nof mountains. We are now nearly abreast the north end of the Bluff. We\nall came up to camp together this morning: it looked like a meet of the\nhounds, and Jehu ran away!!!\"[192]\n\nThe next march was just the opposite. Wind force 5 to 6 and falling snow.\n\"The surface was very slippery in parts and on the hard sastrugi it was a\ncase of falling or stumbling continually. The light got so bad that one\nmight have been walking in the clouds for all that could be discerned,\nand yet it was only snowing slightly. The Bluff became completely\nobscured, and the usual signs of a blizzard were accentuated.\n\n\"At lunch camp Scott packed up and followed us. We overhauled Atkinson\nabout 1½ hours later, he having camped, and we were not sorry, as in\naddition to marching against a fresh southerly breeze the light brought a\ntremendous strain on the eyes in following tracks.\"[193] A little more\nthan eight miles for the day's total.\n\nWe carried these depressing conditions for three more marches, that is\ntill the morning of November 13. The surface was wretched, the weather\nhorrid, the snow persistent, covering everything with soft downy flakes,\ninch upon inch, and mile upon mile. There are glimpses of despondency in\nthe diaries. \"If this should come as an exception, our luck will be truly\nawful. The camp is very silent and cheerless, signs that things are going\nawry.\"[194] \"The weather was horrid, overcast, gloomy, snowy. One's\nspirits became very low.\"[195] \"I expected these marches to be a little\ndifficult, but not near so bad as to-day.\"[196] Indefinite conditions\nalways tried Scott most: positive disasters put him into more cheerful\nspirits than most. In the big gale coming South when the ship nearly\nsank, and when we lost one of the cherished motors through the sea-ice,\nhis was one of the few cheerful faces I saw. Even when the ship ran\naground off Cape Evans he was not despondent. But this kind of thing\nirked him. Bowers wrote: \"The unpleasant weather and bad surface, and\nChinaman's indisposition, combined to make the outlook unpleasant, and on\narrival [in camp] I was not surprised to find that Scott had a grievance.\nHe felt that in arranging the consumption of forage his own unit had not\nbeen favoured with the same reduction as ours, in fact accused me of\nputting upon his three horses to save my own. We went through the weights\nin detail after our meal, and, after a certain amount of argument,\ndecided to carry on as we were going. I can quite understand his\nfeelings, and after our experience of last year a bad day like this makes\nhim fear our beasts are going to fail us. The Talent [i.e. the doctors]\nexamined Chinaman, who begins to show signs of wear. Poor ancient little\nbeggar, he ought to be a pensioner instead of finishing his days on a job\nof this sort. Jehu looks pretty rocky too, but seeing that we did not\nexpect him to reach the Glacier Tongue, and that he has now done more\nthan 100 miles from Cape Evans, one really does not know what to expect\nof these creatures. Certainly Titus thinks, as he has always said, that\nthey are the most unsuitable scrap-heap crowd of unfit creatures that\ncould possibly be got together.\"[197]\n\n\"The weather was about as poisonous as one could wish; a fresh breeze and\ndriving snow from the E. with an awful surface. The recently fallen snow\nthickly covered the ground with powdery stuff that the unfortunate ponies\nfairly wallowed in. If it was only ourselves to consider I should not\nmind a bit, but to see our best ponies being hit like this at the start\nis most distressing. A single march like that of last night must shorten\ntheir usefulness by days, and here we are a fortnight out, and barely\none-third of the distance to the glacier covered, with every pony showing\nsigns of wear. Victor looks a lean and lanky beast compared with his\ncondition two weeks ago.\"[198]\n\nBut the ponies began to go better; and it was about this time that Jehu\nwas styled the Barrier Wonder, and Chinaman the Thunderbolt. \"Our four\nponies have suffered most,\" writes Bowers. \"I don't agree with Titus that\nit is best to march them right through without a lunch camp. They were\nundoubtedly pretty tired, and worst of all did not go their feeds\nproperly. It was a fine warm morning for them (Nov. 13); +15°, our\nwarmest temperature hitherto. In the afternoon it came on to snow in\nlarge flakes like one would get at home. I have never seen such snow down\nhere before; it makes the surface very bad for the sledges. The ponies'\nmanes and rugs were covered in little knots of ice.\"\n\nThe next march (November 13-14) was rather better, though the going was\nvery deep and heavy, and all the ponies were showing signs of wear and\ntear. This was followed by a delightfully warm day, and all the animals\nwere standing drowsily in the sunshine. We could see the land far away\nbehind us, the first sight of land we had had for many days. On November\n15 we reached One Ton Depôt, having travelled a hundred and thirty miles\nfrom Hut Point.\n\nThe two sledges left standing were still upright, and the tattered\nremains of a flag flapped over the main cairn. In a salt tin lashed to\nthe bamboo flag-pole was a note from Lieutenant Evans to say that he had\ngone on with the motor party five days before, and would continue\nman-hauling to 80° 30´ S. and await us there. \"He has done something over\n30 miles in 2½ days--exceedingly good going.\"[199] We dug out the cairn,\nwhich we found just as we had left it except that there was a big tongue\nof drift, level with the top of the cairn to leeward, and running about\n150 yards to N.E., showing that the prevailing wind here is S.W. Nine\nmonths before we had sprinkled some oats on the surface of the snow\nhoping to get a measurement of the accretion of snow during the winter.\nUnfortunately we were unable to find the oats again, but other evidence\nwent to show that the snow deposit was very small. A minimum thermometer\nwhich was lashed with great care to a framework registered -73°. After\nthe temperatures already experienced by us on the Barrier during the\nwinter and spring this was surprisingly high, especially as our minimum\ntemperatures were taken under the sledge, which means that the\nthermometer is shaded from radiation, while this thermometer at One Ton\nwas left open to the sky. On the Winter Journey we found that a shaded\nthermometer registered -69° when an unshaded one registered -75°, a\ndifference of 6°. All the provisions left here were found to be in\nexcellent condition.\n\nWe then had a prolonged council of war. This meant that Scott called\nBowers, and perhaps Oates, into our tent after supper was finished in the\nmorning. Somehow these conferences were always rather serio-comic. On\nthis occasion, as was usually the case, the question was ponies. It was\ndecided to wait here one day and rest them, as there was ample food. The\nmain discussion centred round the amount of forage to be taken on from\nhere, while the state of the ponies, the amount they could pull and the\ndistance they could go had to be taken into consideration.\n\n\"Oates thinks the ponies will get through, but that they have lost\ncondition quicker than he expected. Considering his usually pessimistic\nattitude this must be thought a hopeful view. Personally I am much more\nhopeful. I think that a good many of the beasts are actually in better\nform than when they started, and that there is no need to be alarmed\nabout the remainder, always excepting the weak ones which we have always\nregarded with doubt. Well, we must wait and see how things go.\"[200]\n\nThe decision made was to take just enough food to get the ponies to the\nglacier, allowing for the killing of some of them before that date. It\nwas obvious that Jehu and Chinaman could not go very much farther, and\nit was also necessary that ponies should be killed in order to feed the\ndogs. The two dog-teams were carrying about a week's pony food, but they\nwere unable to advance more than a fortnight from One Ton without killing\nponies.\n\nThis decision practically meant that Scott abandoned the idea of taking\nponies up the glacier. This was a great relief, for the crevassed state\nof the lower reaches of the glacier as described by Shackleton led us to\nbelieve that the attempt was suicidal. All the winter our brains were\nexercised to try and devise some method by which the ponies could be\ndriven from behind, and by which the connection between pony and sledge\ncould be loosed if the pony fell into a crevasse, but I confess that\nthere seemed little chance of this happening. From all we saw of the\nglacier I am convinced that there is no reasonable chance of getting\nponies up it, and that dogs could only be driven down it if the way up\nwas most carefully surveyed and kept on the return. I am sure that in\nthis kind of uncertainty the mental strain on the leader of a party is\nless than that on his men. The leader knows quite well what he thinks\nworth while risking or not: in this case Scott probably was always of the\nopinion that it would not be worth while taking ponies on to the glacier.\nThe pony leaders, however, only knew that the possibility was ahead of\nthem. I can remember now the relief with which we heard that it was not\nintended that Wilson should take Nobby, the fittest of our ponies,\nfarther than the Gateway.\n\nUp to now Christopher had lived up to his reputation, as the following\nextracts from Bowers' diary will show: \"Three times we downed him, and he\ngot up and threw us about, with all four of us hanging on like grim\ndeath. He nearly had me under him once; he seems fearfully strong, but it\nis a pity he wastes so much good energy.... Christopher, as usual, was\nstrapped on three legs and then got down on his knees. He gets more\ncunning each time, and if he does not succeed in biting or kicking one of\nus before long it won't be his fault. He finds the soft snow does not\nhurt his knees like the sea-ice, and so plunges about on them _ad lib_.\nOne's finnesko are so slippery that it is difficult to exert full\nstrength on him, and to-day he bowled Oates over and got away altogether.\nFortunately the lashing on his fourth leg held fast, and we were able to\nsecure him when he rejoined the other animals. Finally he lay down, and\nthought he had defeated us, but we had the sledge connected up by that\ntime, and as he got up we rushed him forward before he had time to kick\nover the traces.... Dimitri came and gave us a hand with Chris. Three of\nus hung on to him while the other two connected up the sledge. We had a\nstruggle for over twenty minutes, and he managed to tread on me, but no\ndamage done.... Got Chris in by a dodge. Titus did away with his back\nstrap, and nearly had him away unaided before he realized that the hated\nsledge was fast to him. Unfortunately he started off just too soon, and\nbolted with only one trace fast. This pivoted him to starboard, and he\ncharged the line. I expected a mix-up, but he stopped at the wall between\nBones and Snatcher, and we cast off and cleared sledge before trying\nagain. By laying the traces down the side of the sledge instead of ahead\nwe got him off his guard again, and he was away before he knew what had\noccurred.... We had a bad time with Chris again. He remembered having\nbeen bluffed before, and could not be got near the sledge at all. Three\ntimes he broke away, but fortunately he always ran back among the other\nponies, and not out on to the Barrier. Finally we had to down him, and he\nwas so tired with his recent struggles that after one abortive attempt we\ngot him fast and away.\"\n\nMeanwhile it was not so much the difficulties of sledging as the\ndepressing blank conditions in which our march was so often made, that\ngave us such troubles as we had. The routine of a tent makes a lot of\ndifference. Scott's tent was a comfortable one to live in, and I was\nalways glad when I was told to join it, and sorry to leave. He was\nhimself extraordinarily quick, and no time was ever lost by his party in\ncamping or breaking camp. He was most careful, some said over-careful\nbut I do not think so, that everything should be neat and shipshape, and\nthere was a recognized place for everything. On the Depôt Journey we were\nbidden to see that every particle of snow was beaten off our clothing and\nfinnesko before entering the tent: if it was drifting we had to do this\nafter entering and the snow was carefully cleared off the floor-cloth.\nAfterwards each tent was supplied with a small brush with which to\nperform this office. In addition to other obvious advantages this\nmaterially helped to keep clothing, finnesko, and sleeping-bags dry, and\nthus prolong the life of furs. \"After all is said and done,\" said Wilson\none day after supper, \"the best sledger is the man who sees what has to\nbe done, and does it--and says nothing about it.\" Scott agreed. And if\nyou were \"sledging with the Owner\" you had to keep your eyes wide open\nfor the little things which cropped up, and do them quickly, and say\nnothing about them. There is nothing so irritating as the man who is\nalways coming in and informing all and sundry that he has repaired his\nsledge, or built a wall, or filled the cooker, or mended his socks.\n\nI moved into Scott's tent for the first time in the middle of the Depôt\nJourney, and was enormously impressed by the comfort which a careful\nroutine of this nature evoked. There was a homelike air about the tent at\nsupper time, and, though a lunch camp in the middle of the night is\nalways rather bleak, there was never anything slovenly. Another thing\nwhich struck me even more forcibly was the cooking. We were of course on\njust the same ration as the tent from which I had come. I was hungry and\nsaid so. \"Bad cooking,\" said Wilson shortly; and so it was. For in two or\nthree days the sharpest edge was off my hunger. Wilson and Scott had\nlearned many a cooking tip in the past, and, instead of the same old meal\nday by day, the weekly ration was so manoeuvred by a clever cook that\nit was seldom quite the same meal. Sometimes pemmican plain, or thicker\npemmican with some arrowroot mixed with it: at others we surrendered a\nbiscuit and a half apiece and had a dry hoosh, i.e. biscuit fried in\npemmican with a little water added, and a good big cup of cocoa to\nfollow. Dry hooshes also saved oil. There were cocoa and tea upon which\nto ring the changes, or better still 'teaco' which combined the\nstimulating qualities of tea with the food value of cocoa. Then much\ncould be done with the dessert-spoonful of raisins which was our daily\nwhack. They were good soaked in the tea, but best perhaps in with the\nbiscuits and pemmican as a dry hoosh. \"You are going far to earn my\nundying gratitude, Cherry,\" was a satisfied remark of Scott one evening\nwhen, having saved, unbeknownst to my companions, some of their daily\nration of cocoa, arrowroot, sugar and raisins, I made a \"chocolate\nhoosh.\" But I am afraid he had indigestion next morning. There were meals\nwhen we had interesting little talks, as when I find in my diary that:\n\"we had a jolly lunch meal, discussing authors. Barrie, Galsworthy and\nothers are personal friends of Scott. Some one told Max Beerbohm that he\nwas like Captain Scott, and immediately, so Scott assured us, he grew a\nbeard.\"\n\nBut about three weeks out the topics of conversation became threadbare.\nFrom then onwards it was often that whole days passed without\nconversation beyond the routine Camp ho! All ready? Pack up. Spell ho.\nThe latter after some two hours' pulling. When man-hauling we used to\nstart pulling immediately we had the tent down, the sledge packed and our\nharness over our bodies and ski on our feet. After about a quarter of an\nhour the effects of the marching would be felt in the warming of hands\nand feet and the consequent thawing of our mitts and finnesko. We then\nhalted long enough for everybody to adjust their ski and clothing: then\non, perhaps for two hours or more, before we halted again.\n\nSince it had been decided to lighten the ponies' weights, we left at\nleast 100 lbs. of pony forage behind when we started from One Ton on the\nnight of November 16-17 on our first 13-mile march. This was a distinct\nsaving, and instead of 695 lbs. each with which the six stronger ponies\nleft Corner Camp, they now pulled only 625 lbs. Jehu had only 455 lbs.\nand Chinaman 448 lbs. The dog-teams had 860 lbs. of pony food between\nthem, and according to plan the two teams were to carry 1570 lbs. from\nOne Ton between them. These weights included the sledges, with straps and\nfittings, which weighed about 45 lbs.\n\nSummer seemed long in coming for we marched into a considerable breeze\nand the temperature was -18°. Oates and Seaman Evans had quite a crop of\nfrost-bites. I pointed out to Meares that his nose was gone; but he left\nit, saying that he had got tired of it, and it would thaw out by and by.\nThe ponies were going better for their rest. The next day's march was\nover crusty snow with a layer of loose powdery snow at the top, and a\ntemperature of -21° was chilly. Towards the end of it Scott got\nfrightened that the ponies were not going as well as they should. Another\ncouncil of war was held, and it was decided that an average of thirteen\nmiles a day must be done at all costs, and that another sack of forage\nshould be dumped here, putting the ponies on short rations later, if\nnecessary. Oates agreed, but said the ponies were going better than he\nexpected: that Jehu and Chinaman might go a week, and almost certainly\nwould go three days. Bowers was always against this dumping. Meanwhile\nScott wrote: \"It's touch and go whether we scrape up to the glacier;\nmeanwhile we get along somehow.\"[201]\n\n[Illustration: PARHELIA--E. A. Wilson, del.]\n\nAs a result of one of Christopher's tantrums Bowers records that his\nsledge-meter was carried away this morning: \"I took my sledge-meter into\nthe tent after breakfast and rigged up a fancy lashing with raw hide\nthongs so as to give it the necessary play with security. A splendid\nparhelia exhibition was caused by the ice-crystals. Round the sun was a\n22° halo [that is a halo 22° from the sun's image], with four mock suns\nin rainbow colours, and outside this another halo in complete rainbow\ncolours. Above the sun were the arcs of two other circles touching these\nhalos, and the arcs of the great all-round circle could be seen faintly\non either side. Below was a dome-shaped glare of white which contained an\nexaggerated mock sun, which was as dazzling as the sun himself.\nAltogether a fine example of a pretty common phenomenon down here.\"\nAnd the next day: \"We saw the party ahead in inverted mirage some\ndistance above their heads.\"\n\nIn the next three marches we covered our daily 13 miles, for the most\npart without very great difficulty. But poor Jehu was in a bad way,\nstopping every few hundred yards. It was a funereal business for the\nleaders of these crock ponies; and at this stage of the journey Atkinson,\nWright and Keohane had many more difficulties than most of us, and the\nsuccess of their ponies was largely due to their patience and care.\nIncidentally big icicles formed upon the ponies' noses during the march\nand Chinaman used Wright's windproof blouse as a handkerchief. During the\nlast of these marches, that is on the morning of November 21, we saw a\nmassive cairn ahead, and found there the motor party, consisting of\nLieutenant Evans, Day, Lashly and Hooper. The cairn was in 80° 32´, and\nunder the name Mount Hooper formed our Upper Barrier Depôt. We left there\nthree S (summit) rations, two cases of emergency biscuits and two cases\nof oil, which constituted three weekly food units for the three parties\nwhich were to advance from the bottom of the Beardmore Glacier. This food\nwas to take them back from 80° 32´ to One Ton Camp. We all camped for the\nnight 3 miles farther on: sixteen men, five tents, ten ponies,\ntwenty-three dogs and thirteen sledges.\n\nThe man-hauling party had been waiting for six days; and, having expected\nus before, were getting anxious about us. They declared that they were\nvery hungry, and Day, who was always long and thin, looked quite gaunt.\nSome spare biscuits which we gave them from our tent were carried off\nwith gratitude. The rest of us who were driving dogs or leading ponies\nstill found our Barrier ration satisfying.\n\nWe had now been out three weeks and had travelled 192 miles, and formed a\nvery good idea as to what the ponies could do. The crocks had done\nwonderfully:--\"We hope Jehu will last three days; he will then be\nfinished in any case and fed to the dogs. It is amusing to see Meares\nlooking eagerly for the chance of a feed for his animals; he has been\nexpecting it daily. On the other hand, Atkinson and Oates are eager to\nget the poor animal beyond the point at which Shackleton killed his first\nbeast. Reports on Chinaman are very favourable, and it really looks as\nthough the ponies are going to do what is hoped of them.\"[202] From first\nto last Nobby, who was rescued from the floe, was the strongest pony we\nhad, and was now drawing a heavier load than any other pony by 50 lbs. He\nwas a well-shaped, contented kind of animal, misnamed a pony. Indeed\nseveral of our beasts were too large to fit this description.\nChristopher, of course, was wearing himself out quicker than most, but\nall of them had lost a lot of weight in spite of the fact that they had\nall the oats and oil-cake they could eat. Bowers writes of his pony:\n\n\"Victor, my pony, has taken to leading the line, like his opposite number\nlast season. He is a steady goer, and as gentle as a dear old sheep. I\ncan hardly realize the strenuous times I had with him only a month ago,\nwhen it took about four of us to get him harnessed to a sledge, and two\nof us every time with all our strength to keep him from bolting when in\nit. Even at the start of the journey he was as nearly unmanageable as any\nbeast could be, and always liable to bolt from sheer excess of spirits.\nHe is more sober now after three weeks of featureless Barrier, but I\nthink I am more fond of him than ever. He has lost his rotundity, like\nall the other horses, and is a long-legged, angular beast, very ugly as\nhorses go, but still I would not change him for any other.\"\n\nThe ponies were fed by their leaders at the lunch and supper halts, and\nby Oates and Bowers during the sleep halt about four hours before we\nmarched. Several of them developed a troublesome habit of swinging their\nnosebags off, some as soon as they were put on, others in their anxiety\nto reach the corn still left uneaten in the bottom of the bag. We had to\nlash their bags on to their headstalls. \"Victor got hold of his head rope\nyesterday, and devoured it: not because he is hungry, as he won't eat all\nhis allowance even now.\"[203]\n\nThe original intention was that Day and Hooper should return from 80°\n30´, but it was now decided that their unit of four should remain intact\nfor a few days, and constitute a light man-hauling advance party to make\nthe track.\n\nThe weather was much more pleasant and we saw the sun most days, while I\nnote only one temperature below -20° since leaving One Ton. The ponies\nsank in a cruel distance some days, but we were certainly not overworking\nthem and they had as much food as they could eat. We knew the grim part\nwas to come, but we never realized how grim it was to be. From this\nNorthern Barrier Depôt the ponies were mostly drawing less than 500 lbs.\nand we had hopes of getting through to the glacier without much\ndifficulty. All depended on the weather, and just now it was glorious,\nand the ponies were going steadily together. Jehu, the crockiest of the\ncrocks, was led back along the track and shot on the evening of November\n24, having reached a point at least 15 miles beyond that where Shackleton\nshot his first pony. When it is considered that it was doubtful whether\nhe could start at all this must be conceded to have been a triumph of\nhorse-management in which both Oates and Atkinson shared, though neither\nso much as Jehu himself, for he must have had a good spirit to have\ndragged his poor body so far. \"A year's care and good feeding, three\nweeks' work with good treatment, a reasonable load and a good ration, and\nthen a painless end. If anybody can call that cruel I cannot either\nunderstand it or agree with them.\" Thus Bowers, who continues: \"The\nmidnight sun reflected from the snow has started to burn my face and\nlips. I smear them with hazeline before turning in, and find it a good\nthing. Wearing goggles has absolutely prevented any recurrence of\nsnow-blindness. Captain Scott says they make me see everything through\nrose-coloured spectacles.\"\n\nWe said good-bye to Day and Hooper next morning, and they set their faces\nnorthwards and homewards.[204] Two-men parties on the Barrier are not\nmuch fun. Day had certainly done his best about the motors and they had\nhelped us over a bad bit of initial surface. That night Scott wrote:\n\"Only a few more marches to feel safe in getting to our goal.\"[205] At\nthe lunch halt on November 26, in lat. 81° 35´, we left our Middle\nBarrier Depôt, containing one week's provisions for each returning unit\nas at Mount Hooper, a reduction of 200 lbs. in our weights. The march\nthat day was very trying. \"It is always rather dismal work walking over\nthe great snow plain when sky and surface merge in one pall of dead\nwhiteness, but it is cheering to be in such good company with everything\ngoing on steadily and well.\"[206]\n\nThere was no doubt that the animals were tiring, and \"a tired animal\nmakes a tired man, I find.\"[207] The next day (November 28) was no\nbetter: \"the most dismal start imaginable. Thick as a hedge, snow falling\nand drifting with keen southerly wind.\"[208]\n\nBowers notes: \"We have now run down a whole degree of latitude without a\nfine day, or anything but clouds, mist, and driving snow from the south.\"\nWe certainly did have some difficult marches, one of the worst effects of\nwhich was that we knew we must be making a winding course and we had to\npick up our depôts on the return somehow. Here is a typical bad morning\nfrom Bowers' diary:\n\n\"The first four miles of the march were utter misery for me, as Victor,\neither through lassitude or because he did not like having to plug into\nthe wind, went as slow as a funeral horse. The light was so bad that\nwearing goggles was most necessary, and the driving snow filled them up\nas fast as you cleared them. I dropped a long way astern of the\ncavalcade, could hardly see them at times through the snow, but the fear\nthat Victor, of all the beasts, should give out was like a nightmare. I\nhave always been used to starting later than the others by a quarter of a\nmile, and catching them up. At the four-mile cairn I was about fed up to\nthe neck with it, but I said very little as everybody was so disgusted\nwith the weather and things in general that I saw that I was not the only\none in tribulation. Victor turned up trumps after that. He stepped out\nand led the line in his old place, and at a good swinging pace\nconsidering the surface, my temper and spirits improving at every step.\nIn the afternoon he went splendidly again, and finished up by rolling in\nthe snow when I had taken his harness off, a thing he has not done for\nten or twelve days. It certainly does not look like exhaustion!\"\n\nIndeed these days we were fighting for our marches, and Chinaman who was\nkilled this night seemed well out of it. He reached a point less than 90\nmiles from the glacier, though this was small comfort to him.\n\nStumbling and groping our way along as we had been during the last\nblizzard we were totally unprepared for the sight which met us during our\nnext march on November 29. The great ramp of mountains which ran to the\nwest of us, and would soon bar our way to the South, partly cleared: and\nright on top of us it seemed were the triple peaks of Mount Markham.\nAfter some 300 miles of bleak, monotonous Barrier it was a wonderful\nsight indeed. We camped at night in latitude 82° 21´ S., four miles\nbeyond Scott's previous Farthest South in 1902. Then they had the best of\nluck in clear fine weather, which Shackleton has also recorded at this\nstage of his southern journey.\n\nIt is curious to see how depressed all our diaries become when this bad\nweather obtained, and how quickly we must have cheered up whenever the\nsun came out. There is no doubt that a similar effect was produced upon\nthe ponies. Truth to tell, the mental strain upon those responsible was\nvery great in these early days, and there is little of outside interest\nto relieve the mind. The crystal surface which was an invisible carpet\nyesterday becomes a shining glorious sheet of many colours to-day: the\nirregularities which caused you so many falls are now quite clear and you\nstep on or over them without a thought: and when there is added some of\nthe most wonderful scenery in the world it is hard to recall in the\nenjoyment of the present how irritable and weary you felt only twenty\nhours ago. The whisper of the sledge, the hiss of the primus, the smell\nof the hoosh and the soft folds of your sleeping-bag: how jolly they can\nall be, and generally were.\n\n I would that I could once again\n Around the cooker sit\n And hearken to its soft refrain\n And feel so jolly fit.\n\n Instead of home-life's silken chains,\n The uneventful round,\n I long to be mid snow-swept plains,\n In harness, outward bound.\n\n With the pad, pad, pad, of fin'skoed feet,\n With two hundred pounds per man,\n Not enough hoosh or biscuit to eat,\n Well done, lads! Up tent! Outspan.\n (NELSON in _The South Polar Times._)\n\nCertainly as we skirted these mountains, range upon range, during the\nnext two marches (November 30 and December 1), we felt we could have\nlittle cause for complaint. They brought us to lat. 82° 47´ S., and here\nwe left our last depôt on the Barrier, called the Southern Barrier Depôt,\nwith a week's ration for each returning party as usual. \"The man food is\nenough for one week for each returning unit of four men, the next depôt\nbeyond being the Middle Barrier Depôt, 73 miles north. As we ought easily\nto do over 100 miles a week on the return journey, there is little\nlikelihood of our having to go on short commons if all goes well.\"[209]\nAnd this was what we all felt--until we found the Polar Party. This was\nour twenty-seventh camp, and we had been out a month.\n\n[Illustration: THE MOUNTAINS WHICH LIE BETWEEN THE BARRIER AND THE\nPLATEAU AS SEEN ON DECEMBER 1, 1911--From the drawings by Dr. E. A.\nWilson, Emery Walker Limited, Collotypers.]\n\nIt was important that we should have fine clear weather during the next\nfew days when we should be approaching the land. On his previous southern\njourney Scott had been prevented from reaching the range of mountains\nwhich ran along to our right by a huge chasm. This phenomenon is known to\ngeologists as a shear crack and is formed by the movement of a glacier\naway from the land which bounds it. In this case a mass of many hundred\nmiles of Barrier has moved away from the mountains, and the disturbance\nis correspondingly great. Shackleton has described how he approached the\nGateway, as he named the passage between Mount Hope and the mainland, by\nmeans of which he passed through on to the Beardmore Glacier. As he and\nhis companions were exploring the way they came upon an enormous chasm,\n80 feet wide and 300 feet deep, which barred their path. Moving along to\nthe right they found a place where the chasm was filled with snow, and\nhere they crossed to the land some miles ahead. At our Southern Barrier\nDepôt we reckoned we were some forty-four miles from this Gateway and in\nthree more marches we hoped to be camped under this land.\n\nChristopher was shot at the depôt. He was the only pony who did not die\ninstantaneously. Perhaps Oates was not so calm as usual, for Chris was\nhis own horse though such a brute. Just as Oates fired he moved, and\ncharged into the camp with the bullet in his head. He was caught with\ndifficulty, nearly giving Keohane a bad bite, led back and finished. We\nwere well rid of him: while he was strong he fought, and once the Barrier\nhad tamed him, as we were not able to do, he never pulled a fair load. He\ncould have gone several more days, but there was not enough pony food to\ntake all the animals forward. We began to wonder if we had done right to\nleave so much behind. Each pony provided at least four days' food for the\ndog-teams, some of them more, and there was quite a lot of fat on\nthem--even on Jehu. This was comforting, as going to prove that their\nhardships were not too great. Also we put the undercut into our own\nhoosh, and it was very good, though we had little oil to cook it.\n\nWe had been starting later each night, in order that the transition from\nnight to day marching might be gradual. For we intended to march by day\nwhen we started pulling up the glacier, and there were no ponies to rest\nwhen the sun was high. It may be said therefore that our next march was\non December 2.\n\nBefore we started Scott walked over to Bowers. \"I have come to a decision\nwhich will shock you.\" Victor was to go at the end of the march, because\npony food was running so short. Birdie wrote at the end of the day:--He\n\"did a splendid march and kept ahead all day, and as usual marched into\ncamp first, pulling over 450 lbs. easily. It seemed an awful pity to have\nto shoot a great strong animal, and it seemed like the irony of fate to\nme, as I had been downed for over-provisioning the ponies with needless\nexcess of food, and the drastic reductions had been made against my\nstrenuous opposition up to the last. It is poor satisfaction to me to\nknow that I was right now that my horse is dead. Good old Victor! He has\nalways had a biscuit out of my ration, and he ate his last before the\nbullet sent him to his rest. Here ends my second horse in 83° S., not\nquite so tragically as my first when the sea-ice broke up, but none the\nless I feel sorry for a beast that has been my constant companion and\ncare for so long. He has done his share in our undertaking anyhow, and\nmay I do my share as well when I get into harness myself.\n\n\"The snow has started to fall over his bleak resting-place, and it looks\nlike a blizzard. The outlook is dark, stormy and threatening.\"\n\nIndeed it had been a dismal march into a blank white wall, and the ponies\nwere sinking badly in the snow, leaving holes a full foot deep. The\ntemperature was +17° and the flakes of snow melted when they lay on the\ndark colours of the tents and our furs. After building the pony walls\nwater was running down our windproofs.\n\nI note \"we are doing well on pony meat and go to bed very content.\"\nNotwithstanding the fact that we could not do more than heat the meat by\nthrowing it into the pemmican we found it sweet and good, though tough.\nThe man-hauling party consisted of Lieut. Evans and Lashly who had lost\ntheir motors, and Atkinson and Wright who had lost their ponies. They\nwere really quite hungry by now, and most of us pretty well looked\nforward to our meals and kept a biscuit to eat in our bags if we could.\nThe pony meat therefore came as a relief. I think we ought to have\ndepôted more of it on the cairns. As it was, what we did not eat was\ngiven to the dogs. With some tins of extra oil and a depôted pony the\nPolar Party would probably have got home in safety.\n\nOn December 3 we roused out at 2.30 A.M. It was thick and snowy. As we\nbreakfasted the blizzard started from the south-east, and was soon\nblowing force 9, a full gale, with heavy drift. \"The strongest wind I\nhave known here in summer.\"[210] It was impossible to start, but we\nturned out and made up the pony walls in heavy drift, one of them being\nblown down three times. By 1.30 P.M. the sun was shining, and the land\nwas clear. We started at 2, with what we thought was Mount Hope showing\nup ahead, but soon great snow-clouds were banking up and in two hours we\nwere walking in a deep gloom which made it difficult to find the track\nmade by the man-hauling party ahead. By the time we reached the cairn,\nwhich was always built at the end of the first four miles, it was blowing\nhard from the N.N.W. of all the unlikely quarters of the compass. Bowers\nand Scott were on ski.\n\n\"I put on my windproof blouse and nosed out the track for two miles, when\nwe suddenly came upon the tent of the leading party. They had camped\nowing to the difficulty of steering a course in such thick weather. The\nponies, however, with the wind abaft the beam were going along\nsplendidly, and Scott thought it worth while to shove on. We therefore\ncarried on another four miles, making ten in all, a good half march,\nbefore we camped. On ski it was simply ripping, except for the inability\nto see anything at all. With the wind behind, and the good sliding\nsurface made by the wind-hardened snow, one fairly slithered along.\nCamping was less pleasant as it was blowing a gale by that time. We are\nall in our bags again now, with a good hot meal inside one, and blow high\nor blow low one might be in a worse place than a reindeer bag.\"[211]\n\nIt was all right for the people on ski (and this in itself gave us a\ncertain sense of grievance), but things had not been so easy with the\nponies, who were sinking very deeply in places, while we ourselves were\nsinking well over our ankles. This day we began to cross the great\nundulations in the Barrier, with the crests some mile apart, which here\nmark the approach to the land. We had built the walls to the north of the\nponies on camping, because the wind was from that direction, but by\nbreakfast on December 4 it was blowing a thick blizzard from the\nsouth-east. We began to feel bewildered by these extraordinary weather\nchanges, and not a little exasperated too. Again we could not march, and\nagain we had to dig out the sledges and ponies, and to move them all\nround to the other side of the walls which we had partly to rebuild. \"Oh\nfor the simple man-hauling life!\" was our thought, and \"poor helpless\nbeasts--this is no country for live stock.\" By this time we could not see\nthe neighbouring tents for the drift. The situation was not improved by\nthe fact that our tent doors, the tents having been pitched for the\nstrong north wind then blowing, were now facing the blizzard, and sheets\nof snow entered with each individual. The man-hauling party came up just\nbefore the worst of the blizzard started. The dogs alone were\ncomfortable, buried deep beneath the drifted snow. The sailors began to\ndebate who was the Jonah. They said he was the cameras. The great\nblizzard was brewing all about us.\n\nBut at mid-day as though a curtain was rolled back, the thick snow fog\ncleared off, while at the same time the wind fell calm, and a great\nmountain appeared almost on the top of us. Far away to the south-east we\ncould distinguish, by looking very carefully, a break in the level\nBarrier horizon--a new mountain which we reckoned must be at least in\nlatitude 86° and very high. Towards it the ranges stretched away, peak\nupon peak, range upon range, as far as the eye could see. \"The mountains\nsurpassed anything I have ever seen: beside the least of these giants Ben\nNevis would be a mere mound, and yet they are so immense as to dwarf each\nother. They are intersected at every turn with mighty glaciers and\nice-falls and eternally ice-filled valleys that defy description. So\nclear was everything that every rock seemed to stand out, and the effect\nof the sun as he came round (between us and the mountains) was to make\nthe scene still more beautiful.\"[212]\n\nAltogether we marched eleven miles this day, and camped right in front of\nthe Gateway, which we reckoned to be some thirteen miles away. We saw no\ncrevasses but crossed ten or twelve very large undulations, and estimated\nthat the dips between them were twelve to fifteen feet. Mount Hope was\nbigger than we expected, and beyond it, stretching out into the Barrier\nas far as we could see, was a great white line of jagged edges, the chaos\nof pressure which this vast glacier makes as it flows into the\ncomparatively stationary ice of the Barrier.\n\nMy own pony Michael was shot after we came into camp. He was as\nattractive a little beast as we had. His light weight helped him on soft\nsurfaces, but his small hoofs let him in farther than most and I notice\nin Scott's diary that on November 19 the ponies were sinking half-way to\nthe hock, and Michael once or twice almost to the hock itself. A highly\nstrung, spirited animal, his off days took the form of fidgets, during\nwhich he would be constantly trying to stop and eat snow, and then rush\nforward to catch up the other ponies. Life was a constant source of\nwonder to him, and no movement in the camp escaped his notice. Before we\nhad been long on the Barrier he developed mischievous habits and became a\nrope eater and gnawer of other ponies' fringes, as we called the coloured\ntassels we hung over their eyes to ward off snow-blindness. However, he\nwas by no means the only culprit, and he lost his own fringe to Nobby\nquite early in the proceedings. It was not that he was hungry, for he\nnever quite finished his own feed. At any rate he enjoyed the few weeks\nbefore he died, pricking up his ears and getting quite excited when\nanything happened, and the arrival of the dog-teams each morning after he\nhad been tethered sent him to bed with much to dream of. And I must say\nhis master dreamed pretty regularly too. Michael was killed right in\nfront of the Gateway on December 4, just before the big blizzard, which,\nthough we did not know it, was on the point of breaking upon us, and he\nwas untying his cloth and chewing up everything he could reach to the\nlast. \"It was decided after we camped, and he had his feed already on:\nMeares reported that he had no more food for the dogs. He walked away,\nand rolled in the snow on the way down, not having done so when we got\nin. He was just like a naughty child all the way, and pulled all out. He\nhas been a good friend, and has a good record, 82° 23´ S. He was a bit\ndone to-day: the blizzard had knocked him. Gallant little Michael!\"[213]\n\nAs we got into our bags the mountain tops were fuzzy with drift. We\nwanted one clear day to get across the chasm: one short march and the\nponies' task was done. Their food was nearly finished. Scott wrote that\nnight: \"We are practically through with the first stage of our\njourney.\"[214]\n\n\"Tuesday, December 5. Camp 30. Noon. We awoke this morning to a raging\nhowling blizzard. The blows we have had hitherto have lacked the very\nfine powdering snow, that especial feature of the blizzard. To-day we\nhave it fully developed. After a minute or two in the open one is covered\nfrom head to foot. The temperature is high, so that what falls or drives\nagainst one sticks. The ponies--heads, tails, legs and all parts not\nprotected by their rugs--are covered with ice; the animals are standing\ndeep in snow, the sledges are almost covered, and huge drifts above the\ntents. We have had breakfast, rebuilt the walls, and are now again in our\nbags. One cannot see the next tent, let alone the land. What on earth\ndoes such weather mean at this time of year? It is more than our share of\nill-fortune, I think, but the luck may turn yet....\n\n\"11 P.M. It has blown hard all day with quite the greatest snowfall I\nremember. The drifts about the tents are simply huge. The temperature was\n-27° this forenoon, and rose to +31° in the afternoon, at which time the\nsnow melted as it fell on anything but the snow, and, as a consequence,\nthere are pools of water on everything, the tents are wet through, also\nthe wind-clothes, night-boots, etc.; water drips from the tent poles and\ndoor, lies on the floor-cloth, soaks the sleeping-bags, and makes\neverything pretty wretched. If a cold snap follows before we have had\ntime to dry our things, we shall be mighty uncomfortable. Yet after all\nit would be humorous enough if it were not for the seriousness of\ndelay--we can't afford that, and it's real hard luck that it should come\nat such a time. The wind shows signs of easing down, but the temperature\ndoes not fall and the snow is as wet as ever, not promising signs of\nabatement.\n\n\"Wednesday, December 6. Camp 30. Noon. Miserable, utterly miserable. We\nhave camped in the 'Slough of Despond.' The tempest rages with unabated\nviolence. The temperature has gone to +33°; everything in the tent is\nsoaking. People returning from the outside look exactly as though they\nhad been in a heavy shower of rain. They drip pools on the floor-cloth.\nThe snow is steadily climbing higher about walls, ponies, tents and\nsledges. The ponies look utterly desolate. Oh! But this is too crushing,\nand we are only 12 miles from the glacier. A hopeless feeling descends on\none and is hard to fight off. What immense patience is needed for such\noccasions!\"[215]\n\nBowers describes the situation as follows:\n\n\"It is blowing a blizzard such as one might expect to be driven at us by\nall the powers of darkness. It may be interesting to describe it, as it\nis my first experience of a really warm blizzard, and I hope to be\ntroubled by cold ones only, or at least moderate ones only, in future as\nregards temperature.\n\n\"When I swung the thermometer this morning I looked and looked again, but\nunmistakably the temperature was +33°F., above freezing point (out of the\nsun's direct rays) for the first time since we came down here. What this\nmeans to us nobody can conceive. We try to treat it as a huge joke, but\nour wretched condition might be amusing to read of it later. We are wet\nthrough, our tents are wet, our bags which are our life to us and the\nobjects of our greatest care, are wet; the poor ponies are soaked and\nshivering far more than they would be ordinarily in a temperature fifty\ndegrees lower. Our sledges--the parts that are dug out--are wet, our food\nis wet, everything on and around and about us is the same--wet as\nourselves and our cold, clammy clothes. Water trickles down the tent\npoles and only forms icicles in contact with the snow floor. The warmth\nof our bodies has formed a snow bath in the floor for each of us to lie\nin. This is a nice little catchwater for stray streams to run into before\nthey freeze. This they cannot do while a warm human lies there, so they\nremain liquid and the accommodating bag mops them up. When we go out to\ndo the duties of life, fill the cooker, etc., for the next meal, dig out\nor feed the ponies, or anything else, we are bunged up with snow. Not the\ndriving, sandlike snow we are used to, but great slushy flakes that run\ndown in water immediately and stream off you. The drifts are tremendous,\nthe rest of the show is indescribable. I feel most for the unfortunate\nanimals and am thankful that poor old Victor is spared this. I mended a\npair of half mitts to-day, and we are having two meals instead of three.\nThis idleness when one is simply jumping to go on is bad enough for most,\nbut must be worse for Captain Scott. I feel glad that he has Dr. Bill\n(Wilson) in his tent; there is something always so reassuring about Bill,\nhe comes out best in adversity.\"[216]\n\n\"Thursday, December 7. Camp 30. The storm continues and the situation is\nnow serious. One small feed remains for the ponies after to-day, so that\nwe must either march to-morrow or sacrifice the animals. That is not the\nworst; with the help of the dogs we could get on, without doubt. The\nserious part is that we have this morning started our Summit\nrations--that is to say, the food calculated from the Glacier Depôt has\nbeen begun. The first supporting party can only go on a fortnight from\nthis date and so forth.\"[217]\n\n[Illustration: A PONY CAMP ON THE BARRIER]\n\n[Illustration: THE DOG TEAMS LEAVING THE BEARDMORE GLACIER]\n\nThis day was just as warm, and wetter--much wetter. The temperature was\n+35.5°, and our bags were like sponges. The huge drifts had covered\neverything, including most of the tent, the pony walls and sledges. At\nintervals we dug our way out and dug up the wretched ponies, and got them\non to the top again. \"Henceforward our full ration will be 16 oz.\nbiscuit, 12 oz. pemmican, 2 oz. butter, 0.57 oz. cocoa, 3.0 oz. sugar and\n0.86 oz. tea. This is the Summit ration, total 34.43 oz., with a little\nonion powder and salt. I am all for this: Seaman Evans and others are\nmuch regretting the loss of chocolate, raisins and cereals. For the first\nweek up the glacier we are to go one biscuit short to provision Meares on\nthe way back. The motors depôted too much and Meares has been brought on\nfar farther than his orders were originally bringing him. Originally he\nwas to be back at Hut Point on December 10. The dogs, however, are\ngetting all the horse that is good for them, and are very fit. He has to\naverage 24 miles a day going back. Michael is well out of this: we are\nnow eating him. He was in excellent condition and tastes very good,\nthough tough.\"[218]\n\nBy this time there was little sleep left for us as we lay in our\nsleeping-bags. Three days generally see these blizzards out, and we hoped\nmuch from Friday, December 8. But when we breakfasted at 10 A.M. (we were\ngetting into day-marching routine) wind and snow were monotonously the\nsame. The temperature rose to +34.3°. These temperatures and those\nrecorded by Meares on his way home must be a record for the interior of\nthe Barrier. So far as we were concerned it did not much matter now\nwhether it was +40° or +34°. Things did look really gloomy that morning.\n\nBut at noon there came a gleam of comfort. The wind dropped, and\nimmediately we were out plunging about, always up to our knees in soft\ndowny snow, and often much farther. First we shifted our tents, digging\nthem up with the greatest care that the shovel might not tear them. The\nvalances were encased in solid ice from the water which had run down.\nThen we started to find our sledges which were about four feet down: they\nwere dragged out, and everything on them was wringing wet. There was a\ngleam of sunshine, which soon gave place to snow and gloom, but we\nstarted to make experiments in haulage. Four men on ski managed to move a\nsledge with four others sitting upon it. Nobby was led out, but sank to\nhis belly. As for the drifts I saw Oates standing behind one, and only\nhis head appeared, and this was all loose snow.\n\n\"We are all sitting round now after some tea--it is much better than\ngetting into the bags. I can hardly think that the ponies can pull on,\nbut Titus thinks they can pull to-morrow; all the food is finished, and\nwhat they have had to-day was only what they would not eat out of their\nlast feed yesterday. It is a terrible end--driven to death on no more\nfood, to be then cut up, poor devils. I have swopped the Little Minister\nwith Silas Wright for Dante's Inferno!\"[219] The steady patter of the\nfalling snow upon the tents was depressing as we turned in, but the\ntemperature was below freezing.\n\nThe next morning (Saturday, December 9) we turned out to a cloudy snowy\nday at 5.30 A.M. By 8.30 we had hauled the sledges some way out of the\ncamp and started to lead out the ponies. \"The horses could hardly move,\nsank up to their bellies, and finally lay down. They had to be driven,\nlashed on. It was a grim business.\"[220]\n\nMy impressions of that day are of groping our way, for Bowers and I were\npulling a light sledge ahead to make the track, through a vague white\nwall. First a confused crowd of men behind us gathered round the leading\npony sledge, pushing it forward, the poor beast barely able to struggle\nout of the holes it made as it plunged forward. The others were induced\nto follow, and after a start had been made the regular man-hauling party\nwent back to fetch their load. There was not one man there who would\nwillingly have caused pain to a living thing. But what else was to be\ndone--we could not leave our pony depôt in that bog. Hour after hour we\nplugged on: and we dare not halt for lunch, we knew we could never start\nagain. After crossing many waves huge pressure ridges suddenly showed\nthemselves all round, and we got on to a steep rise with the coastal\nchasm on our right hand appearing as a great dip full of enormous\npressure. Scott was naturally worried about crevasses, and though we knew\nthere was a way through, the finding of it in the gloom was most\ndifficult. For two hours we zig-zagged about, getting forward it is true,\nbut much bewildered, and once at any rate almost bogged. Scott joined us,\nand we took off our ski so as to find the crevasses, and if possible a\nhard way through. Every step we sank about fifteen inches, and often\nabove our knees. Meanwhile Snatcher was saving the situation in\nsnow-shoes, and led the line of ponies. Snippets nearly fell back into a\nbig crevasse, into which his hind quarters fell: but they managed to\nunharness him, and scramble him out.\n\nI do not know how long we had been going when Scott decided to follow the\nchasm. We found a big dip with hard ice underneath, and it was probably\nhere that we made the crossing: we could now see the ring of pressure\nbehind us. Almost it was decided to make the depôt here, but the ponies\nstill plugged on in the most plucky way, though they had to be driven.\nScott settled to go as far as they could be induced to march, and they\ndid wonderfully. We had never thought that they would go a mile: but\npainfully they marched for eleven hours without a long halt, and covered\na distance which we then estimated at seven miles. But our sledge-meters\nwere useless being clogged with the soft snow, and we afterwards came to\nbelieve the distance was not so great: probably not more than five. When\nwe had reached a point some two miles from the top of the snow divide\nwhich fills the Gateway we camped, thankful to rest, but more thankful\nstill that we need drive those weary ponies no more. Their rest was near.\nIt was a horrid business, and the place was known as Shambles Camp.\n\nOates came up to Scott as he stood in the shadow of Mount Hope. \"Well! I\ncongratulate you, Titus,\" said Wilson. \"And _I_ thank you, Titus,\" said\nScott.\n\nAnd that was the end of the Barrier Stage.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n [181] Taylor, with Scott, _The Silver Lining_, pp. 325-326.\n\n [182] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 448.\n\n [183] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 449.\n\n [184] Ibid. p. 446.\n\n [185] See pp. 350, 552-556.\n\n [186] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 453.\n\n [187] Ibid. p. 452.\n\n [188] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 438-439.\n\n [189] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 450.\n\n [190] Bowers.\n\n [191] Bowers.\n\n [192] My own diary.\n\n [193] Bowers.\n\n [194] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 463.\n\n [195] Ibid. p. 462.\n\n [196] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 461.\n\n [197] Bowers.\n\n [198] Bowers.\n\n [199] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 465.\n\n [200] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 465.\n\n [201] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 468.\n\n [202] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. pp. 470, 471.\n\n [203] Bowers.\n\n [204] A note to Cape Evans is as follows:--MY DEAR SIMPSON. This\n goes with Day and Hooper now returning. We are making fair\n progress and the ponies doing fairly well. I hope we shall\n get through to the glacier without difficulty, but to make\n sure I am carrying the dog-teams farther than I intended at\n first--the teams may be late returning, unfit for further\n work or non-existent....--R. SCOTT.\n\n [205] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 474.\n\n [206] Ibid. p. 475.\n\n [207] Ibid. p. 476.\n\n [208] Ibid. p. 476.\n\n [209] Bowers.\n\n [210] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 483.\n\n [211] Bowers.\n\n [212] Bowers.\n\n [213] My own diary.\n\n [214] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 486.\n\n [215] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. pp. 486-489.\n\n [216] Bowers.\n\n [217] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 489.\n\n [218] My own diary.\n\n [219] My own diary.\n\n [220] Ibid.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nTHE POLAR JOURNEY (_continued_)\n\n The Southern Journey involves the most important object of the\n Expedition.... One cannot affect to be blind to the situation:\n the scientific public, as well as the more general public, will\n gauge the result of the scientific work of the Expedition largely\n in accordance with the success or failure of the main object.\n With success all roads will be made easy, all work will receive\n its proper consideration. With failure even the most brilliant\n work may be neglected and forgotten, at least for a time.--SCOTT.\n\nII. THE BEARDMORE GLACIER\n\n\nThe ponies had dragged twenty-four weekly units of food for four men to\nsome five miles from the bottom of the glacier, but we were late. For\nsome days we had been eating the Summit ration, that is the food which\nshould not have been touched until the Glacier Depôt had been laid, and\nwe were still a day's run from the place where this was to be done: it\nwas of course the result of the blizzard which no one could have expected\nin December, usually one of the two most settled months. Still more\nserious was the deep snow which lay like down upon the surface, and into\nwhich we sank commonly to our knees, our sledges digging themselves in\nuntil the crosspieces were ploughing through the drift. Shackleton had\nfine weather, and found blue ice in the bottom reaches of the glacier,\nand Scott lamented what was unquestionably bad luck.\n\nIt was noon of December 10 before we had made the readjustments necessary\nfor man-hauling. We left here pony meat for man and dog food, three\nten-foot sledges, one twelve-foot sledge, and a good many oddments of\nclothing and pony gear. We started with three four-man teams, each\npulling for these first few miles about 500 lbs., as follows: (I) Scott,\nWilson, Oates, Seaman Evans: (II) Lieut. Evans, Atkinson, Wright, Lashly:\n(III) Bowers, Cherry-Garrard, Crean, Keohane. The team numbered (II) had\nbeen man-hauling together some days, and two members of it, Lieut. Evans\nand Lashly, had already been man-hauling since the breakdown of the\nsecond motor at Corner Camp; it was certainly not so fit as the other\ntwo. In addition to these three sledges the two dog-teams, which had been\ndoing splendid work, were carrying 600 lbs. of our weight as well as the\nprovisions for the Lower Glacier Depôt, weighing 200 lbs. It began to\nlook as if Amundsen had chosen the right form of transport.\n\nThe Gateway is a gap in the mountains, a side door, as it were, to the\ngreat tumbled glacier. By lunch we were on the top of the divide, but it\ntook six hours of the hardest hauling to cover the mile which formed the\nrise. As long as possible we stuck to ski, but we reached a point at\nwhich we could not move the sledges on ski: once we had taken them off we\nwere up to our knees, and the sledges were ploughing the snow which would\nnot support them. But our gear was drying in the bright sunshine, our\nbags were spread out at every opportunity, and the great jagged cliffs of\nred granite were welcome to the eyes after 425 statute miles of snow. The\nGateway is filled by a giant snowdrift which has been formed between\nMount Hope on our left and the mainland on our right. From Shackleton's\nbook we gathered that the Beardmore was a very bad glacier indeed. Once\non the top of the divide we lunched, and we descended in the evening,\ncamping at midnight on the edge of the glacier, which we found, as we had\nfeared, covered with soft snow which was so deep as to give no indication\nwhatever of the hard ice which Shackleton found here. \"We camped in\nconsiderable drift and a blizzard wind, which is still blowing, and I\nhope will go on, for every hour it is sweeping away inches of this soft\npowdery snow into which we have been sinking all day.\"[221]\n\nBefore setting out on December 11 we rigged up the Lower Glacier Depôt,\nthree weekly Summit units of provisions, two cases of emergency biscuit\nwhich was the ration for three weekly units, and two cans of oil. These\nprovisions were calculated to carry the three returning parties as far as\nthe Southern Barrier Depôt. We also left one can of spirit, used for\nlighting the primus, one bottle of medical brandy and certain spare and\npersonal gear not required. On the sledges themselves we stowed eighteen\nweekly Summit units, besides the three ready bags containing the ration\nfor the current week, and the complement of biscuit, for this was ten\ncases in addition to the three boxes of biscuit which the three parties\nwere using. Then there were eighteen cans of oil, with two cans of\nlighting spirit and a little additional Christmas fare which Bowers had\npacked. Every unit of food was worked out for four men for one week.\n\n[Illustration: TRANSIT SKETCH FOR THE LOWER GLACIER DEPÔT.--E. A. Wilson,\ndel. Emery Walker Limited, Collotypers.]\n\nDuring this time of deep snow the sledge-meters would not work and we\nwere compelled to estimate the distance marched each day. \"It has been a\ntremendous slog, but I think a most hopeful day. Before starting it took\nus about two hours to make the depôt and then we got straight into the\nmidst of the big pressure. The dogs, with ten cases of biscuit, came\nbehind and pulled very well. We soon caught sight of a big boulder, and\nBill and I roped up and went over to it. It was a block of very coarse\ngranite, nearly gneiss, with large crystals of quartz in it, rusty\noutside and quite pinkish when chipped, and with veins of quartz running\nthrough it. It was a vast thing to be carried along on the ice, and\nlooked very typical of the rock round. Instead of keeping under the great\ncliff where Shackleton made his depôt, we steered for Mount Kyffin, that\nis towards the middle of the glacier, until lunch, when we had probably\ndone about two or three miles. There was a crevasse wherever we went, but\nwe managed to pull on ski and had no one down, and the deep snow saved\nthe dogs.\"[222] The dog-teams were certainly running very big risks that\nmorning. They turned back after lunch, having been brought on far\nlonger than had been originally intended, for, as I have said, they were\nto have been back at Hut Point before now, and their provision allowance\nwould not allow of further advance. Perhaps we rather overestimated the\ndogs' capacities when Bowers wrote: \"The dogs are wonderfully fit and\nwill rush Meares and Dimitri back like the wind. I expect he will be\nnearly back by Christmas, as they will do about thirty miles a day.\" But\nMeares told us when we got back to the hut that the dogs had by no means\nhad an easy journey home. Now, however, \"with a whirl and a rush they\nwere off on the homeward trail. I could not see them (being snow-blind),\nbut heard the familiar orders as the last of our animal transport left\nus.\"[223]\n\nOur difficulties during the next four days were increased by the\nsnow-blindness of half the men. The evening we reached the glacier Bowers\nwrote: \"I am afraid I am going to pay dearly for not wearing goggles\nyesterday when piloting the ponies. My right eye has gone bung, and my\nleft one is pretty dicky. If I am in for a dose of snow glare it will\ntake three or four days to leave me, and I am afraid I am in the ditch\nthis time. It is painful to look at this paper, and my eyes are fairly\nburning as if some one had thrown sand into them.\" And then: \"I have\nmissed my journal for four days, having been enduring the pains of hell\nwith my eyes as well as doing the most back-breaking work I have ever\ncome up against.... I was as blind as a bat, and so was Keohane in my\nteam. Cherry pulled alongside me, with Crean and Keohane behind. By\nsticking plaster over my glasses except one small central spot I shut off\nmost light and could see the points of my ski, but the glasses were\nalways fogged with perspiration and my eyes kept on streaming water which\ncannot be wiped off on the march as a ski stick is held in each hand; and\nso heavy were our weights [we had now taken on the weights which had been\non the dog sledges] that if any of the pair slacked a hand even, the\nsledge stopped. It was all we could do to keep the sledge moving for\nshort spells of a few hundred yards, the whole concern sinking so deeply\ninto the soft snow as to form a snow-plough. The starting was worse than\npulling as it required from ten to fifteen desperate jerks on the harness\nto move the sledge at all.\" Many others were also snowblind, caused\npartly by the strain of the last march of the ponies, partly by not\nhaving realized that now that we were day-marching the sun was more\npowerful and more precautions should be taken. The cocaine and zinc\nsulphate tablets which we had were excellent, but we also found that our\ntea leaves, which had been boiled twice and would otherwise have been\nthrown away, relieved the pain if tied into some cotton and kept pressed\nagainst the eyes. The tannic acid in the tea acted as an astringent. A\nsnowblind man can see practically nothing anyhow and so he is not much\nworse off if a handkerchief is tied over his eyes.\n\n\"_Beardmore Glacier._ Just a tiny note to be taken back by the dogs.\nThings are not so rosy as they might be, but we keep our spirits up and\nsay the luck must turn. This is only to tell you that I find I can keep\nup with the rest as well as of old.\"[224]\n\n[Illustration: MOUNT F. L. SMITH AND THE LAND TO THE NORTH-WEST--E. A.\nWilson, del. Emery Walker Limited, Collotypers.]\n\nThen for the first time we were left with our full loads of 800 lbs. a\nsledge. Even Bowers asked Scott whether he was going to try it without\nrelaying. That night Scott's diary runs:\n\n\"It was a very anxious business when we started after lunch, about 4.30.\nCould we pull our full loads or not? My own party got away first, and, to\nmy joy, I found we could make fairly good headway. Every now and again\nthe sledge sank in a soft patch, which brought us up, but we learned to\ntreat such occasions with patience. We got sideways to the sledge and\nhauled it out, Evans (P.O.) getting out of his ski to get better\npurchase. The great thing is to keep the sledge moving, and for an hour\nor more there were dozens of critical moments when it all but stopped,\nand not a few when it brought up altogether. The latter were very trying\nand tiring.\"[225] Altogether it was an encouraging day and we reckoned we\nhad made seven miles. Generally it was not Scott's team which made the\nheaviest weather these days but on December 12 they were in greater\ndifficulties than any of us. It was indeed a gruelling day, for the\nsurface was worse than ever and many men were snow-blind. After five\nhours' work in the morning we were about half a mile forward. We were in\na sea of pressure, the waves coming at us from our starboard bow, the\ndistance between the crests not being very great. We could not have\nadvanced at all had it not been for our ski: \"on foot one sinks to the\nknees, and if pulling on a sledge to half way between knee and\nthigh.\"[226]\n\nOn December 13, \"the sledges sank in over twelve inches, and all the\ngear, as well as the thwartship pieces, were acting as breaks. The tugs\nand heaves we enjoyed, and the number of times we had to get out of our\nski to upright the sledge, were trifles compared with the strenuous\nexertion of every muscle and nerve to keep the wretched drag from\nstopping when once under weigh; and then it would stick, and all the\nstarting operations had to be gone through afresh. We did perhaps half a\nmile in the forenoon. Anticipating a better surface in the afternoon we\ngot a shock. Teddy [Evans] led off half an hour earlier to pilot a way,\nand Captain Scott tried some fake with his spare runners [he lashed them\nunder the sledge to prevent the cross-pieces ploughing the snow] that\ninvolved about an hour's work. We had to continually turn our runners up\nto scrape the ice off them, for in these temperatures they are liable to\nget warm and melt the snow on them, and that freezes into knobs of ice\nwhich act like sandpaper or spikes on a pair of skates. We bust off\nsecond full of hope having done so well in the forenoon, but pride goeth\n[before a fall]. We stuck ten yards from the camp, and nine hours later\nfound us little more than half a mile on. I have never seen a sledge sink\nso. I have never pulled so hard, or so nearly crushed my inside into my\nbackbone by the everlasting jerking with all my strength on the canvas\nband round my unfortunate tummy. We were all in the same boat however.\n\n\"I saw Teddy struggling ahead and Scott astern, but we were the worst off\nas the leading team had topped the rise and I was too blind to pick out a\nbetter trail. We fairly played ourselves out that time, and finally had\nto give it up and relay. Halving the load we went forward about a mile\nwith it, and, leaving that lot, went back for the remainder. So done were\nmy team that we could do little more than pull the half loads. Teddy's\nteam did the same, and though Scott's did not, we camped practically the\nsame time, having gone over our distance three times. Mount Kyffin was\nstill ahead of us to the left: we seemed as if we can never come up with\nit. To-morrow Scott decided that if we could not move our full loads we\nwould start relaying systematically. It was a most depressing outlook\nafter such a day of strenuous labour.\"[227] We got soaked with\nperspiration these days, though generally pulling in vest, pants, and\nwindproof trousers only. Directly we stopped we cooled quickly. Two skuas\nappeared at lunch, attracted probably by the pony flesh below, but it was\na long way from the sea for them to come. On Thursday December 14, Scott\nwrote: \"Indigestion and the soggy condition of my clothes kept me awake\nfor some time last night, and the exceptional exercise gives bad attacks\nof cramp. Our lips are getting raw and blistered. The eyes of the party\nare improving, I am glad to say. We are just starting our march with no\nvery hopeful outlook.\"\n\n[Illustration: MOUNT ELIZABETH, MOUNT ANNE AND SOCKS GLACIER--E. A.\nWilson, del. Emery Walker Limited, Collotypers.]\n\nBut we slogged along with much better results. \"Once into the middle of\nthe glacier we had been steering more or less for the Cloudmaker and by\nsupper to-day were well past Mount Kyffin and were about 2000 feet up\nafter an estimated run of 11 or 12 statute miles. But the most cheering\nsign was that the blue ice was gradually coming nearer the surface; at\nlunch it was two feet down, and at our supper camp only one foot. In\npitching our tent Crean broke into a crevasse which ran about a foot in\nfront of the door and there was another at Scott's door. We threw an\nempty oil can down and it echoed for a terribly long time.\"[228] We\nspent the morning of December 15 crossing a maze of crevasses though they\nwere well bridged; I believe all these lower reaches of the glacier are\nbadly crevassed, but the thick snow and our ski kept us from tumbling in.\nThere was a great deal of competition between the teams which was perhaps\nunavoidable but probably a pity. This day Bowers' diary records, \"Did a\nsplendid bust off on ski, leaving Scott in the lurch, and eventually\noverhauling the party which had left some time before us. All the morning\nwe kept up a steady, even swing which was quite a pleasure.\" But the same\nday Scott wrote, \"Evans' is now decidedly the slowest unit, though\nBowers' is not much faster. We keep up and overhaul either without\ndifficulty.\" Bowers' team considered themselves quite good, but both\nteams were satisfied of their own superiority; as a matter of fact\nScott's was the faster, as it should have been for it was certainly the\nheavier of the two.\n\n\"It was a very bad light all day, but after lunch it began to get worse,\nand by 5 o'clock it was snowing hard and we could see nothing. We went on\nfor nearly an hour, steering by the wind and any glimpse of sastrugi, and\nthen, very reluctantly, Scott camped. It looks better now. The surface is\nmuch harder and more wind-swept, and as a rule the ice is only six inches\nunderneath. We are beginning to talk about Christmas. We get very thirsty\nthese days in the warm temperatures: we shall feel it farther up when the\ncold gets into our open pores and sunburnt hands and cracked lips. I am\nplastering some skin on mine to-night. Our routine now is: turn out 5.30,\nlunch 1, and camp at 7, and we get a short 8 hours' sleep, but we are so\ndead tired we could sleep half into the next day: we get about 9½ hours'\nmarch. Tea at lunch a positive godsend. We are raising the land to the\nsouth well, and are about 2500 feet up, latitude about 84° 8´ S.\"[229]\n\nThe next day, December 16, Bowers wrote: \"We have had a really enjoyable\nday's march, except the latter end of the afternoon. At the outset in the\nforenoon my sledge was a bit in the lurch, and Scott drew steadily away\nfrom us. I knew I could ordinarily hold my own with him, but for the\nfirst two hours we dropped till we were several hundred yards astern; try\nas I would to rally up my team we could gain nothing. On examining the\nrunners however we soon discovered the cause by the presence of a thin\nfilm of ice. After that we ran easily. The thing one must avoid doing is\nto touch them with the hand or mitt, as anything damp will make ice on\nthem. We usually turn the sledge on its side and scrape one runner at a\ntime with the back of our knives so as to avoid any chance of cutting or\nchipping them. In the afternoon either the tea or the butter we had at\nlunch made us so strong that we fairly overran the other team.\"[230]\n\n\"We must push on all we can, for we are now 6 days behind Shackleton, all\ndue to that wretched storm. So far, since we got among the disturbances\nwe have not seen such alarming crevasses as I had expected; certainly\ndogs could have come up as far as this.\"[231]\n\n[Illustration: MOUNT PATRICK--E. A. Wilson, del.]\n\n\"At lunch we could see big pressure ahead having done first over five\nmiles. Soon after lunch, having gone down a bit, we rose among very rough\nstuff. We plugged on until 4.30, when ski became quite impossible, and we\nput them on the sledges and started on foot. We immediately began putting\nlegs down: one step would be on blue ice and the next two feet down into\nsnow: very hard going. The pressure ahead seemed to stretch right into a\nbig glacier next the Keltie Glacier to the east, and so we altered course\nfor a small bluff point about two-thirds of the way along the base of the\nCloudmaker. We were to camp at 6, but did not do so until about 6.30, the\nlast 1½ hours in big pressure, crossing big and smaller waves, and\nhundreds of crevasses which one of us generally found. We are now camped\nin very big pressure, and with difficulty we found a patch big enough to\npitch the tent free from crevasses. We are pretty well past the Keltie\nGlacier which is a vast tumbled mass: there is a long line of ice falls\nahead, and I think there is a hard day ahead of us to-morrow among\nthat pressure which must be enormous. We can't go farther inshore here,\nbeing under the north end of the Cloudmaker, and a fine mountain it is,\nrising precipitously above us.[232]\n\n\"Sunday, December 17. Nearly 11 miles. Temp. 12.5°. 3500 feet. We have\nhad an exciting day--this morning was just like the scenic railway at\nEarl's Court. We got straight on to the big pressure waves, and headed\nfor the humpy rock at the base of the Cloudmaker. It was a hard plug up\nthe waves, very often standing pulls, and all that we could do for a\ncourse was a very varied direction. Going down the other side was the\nexciting part: all we could do was to set the sledge straight, hang on to\nthe straps, give her a little push and rush down the slope, which was\nsometimes so sheer that the sledge was in the air. Sometimes there was no\nchance to brake the sledge, and we all had to get on to the top, and we\nrushed down with the wind whistling in our ears. After three hours of\nthis it levelled out again a bit, and we took the top of a wave, and ran\nsouth along it on blue ice: enormous pressure to our right, largely I\nthink caused by the Keltie Glacier. Then we ascended a rise, snowy and\ncrevassed, and camped after doing just under five miles, with big\npressure ahead.\"[233]\n\n\"In the afternoon we had a hard surface. Scott started off at a great\nspeed, Teddy [Evans] and I following. There was something wrong with my\nteam or my sledge, as we had a desperate job to keep up at first. We did\nkeep up all right, but were heartily glad when after about 2½ hours Scott\nstopped for a spell. I rearranged our harness, putting Cherry and myself\non the long span again, which we had temporarily discarded in the\nmorning. We were both winded and felt wronged. The rearrangement was a\nsuccess however, and the remainder of the march was a pleasure instead of\na desperate struggle. It finished up on fields of blue rippled ice with\nsharp knife edges, and snow patches few and far between. We are all\ncamped on a small snow patch in the middle of a pale blue rippled sea,\nabout 3600 feet above sea level and past the Cloudmaker, which means\nthat we are half way up the Glacier.\"[234] We had done 12½ miles\n(statute).\n\nThe Beardmore Glacier is twice as large as the Malaspina in Alaska, which\nwas the largest known glacier until Shackleton discovered the Beardmore.\nThose who knew the Ferrar Glacier professed to find the Beardmore\nunattractive, but to me at any rate it was grand. Its very vastness,\nhowever, tends to dwarf its surroundings, and great tributary glaciers\nand tumbled ice-falls, which anywhere else would have aroused admiration,\nwere almost unnoticed in a stream which stretched in places forty miles\nfrom bank to bank. It was only when the theodolite was levelled that we\nrealized how vast were the mountains which surrounded us: one of which we\nreckoned to be well over twenty thousand feet in height, and many of the\nothers must have approached that measurement. Lieutenant Evans and Bowers\nwere surveying whenever the opportunity offered, whilst Wilson sat on the\nsledge or on his sleeping-bag, and sketched.\n\nBefore leaving on the morning of December 18 we bagged off three\nhalf-weekly units and made a depôt marked by a red flag on a bamboo which\nwas stuck into a small mound. Unfortunately it began to snow in the night\nand no bearings were taken until the following morning when only the base\nof the mountains on the west side was visible. We knew we might have\ndifficulty in picking up this depôt again, and certainly we all did.\n\n\"It was thick, with low stratus clouds in the morning, and snow was\nfalling in large crystals. Our socks and finnesko, hung out to dry, were\ncovered with most beautiful feathery crystals. In the warm weather one\ngets fairly saturated with perspiration on the march, and foot-gear is\nalways wet, except the outside covering which is as a rule more or less\nfrozen according to existing temperature. On camping at night I shift to\nnight foot-gear as soon as ever the tent is pitched, and generally slip\non my windproof blouse, as one cools down like smoke after the exertion\nof man-hauling a heavy sledge for hours. At lunch camp one's feet often\nget pretty cold, but this goes off as soon as some hot tea is got into\nthe system. As a rule, even when snowing, one's socks, etc., will dry if\nthere is a bit of a breeze. They are always frozen stiff in the morning\nand can best be thawed out by bundling the lot [under one's] jersey\nduring breakfast. They can then be put on tolerably warm even if wet.\n\n\"We started off on a hard rippled blue surface like a sea frozen intact\nwhile the wind was playing on it. It soon got worse and we had to have\none and sometimes two hands back to keep the sledge from skidding. Of\ncourse it was easy enough stuff to pull on, but the ground was very\nuneven, and sledges constantly capsized. It did not improve the runners\neither. There were few crevasses.\n\n\"All day we went on in dull cloudy weather with hardly any land visible,\nand the glacier to be seen only for a short distance. In the afternoon\nthe clouds lifted somewhat and showed us the Adam Mountains. The surface\nwas better for the sledges but worse for us, as there were countless\ncracks and small crevasses, into which we constantly trod, barking our\nshins. As the afternoon sun came round the perspiration fairly streamed\ndown, and it was impossible to keep goggles clear. The surface was so\nslippery and uneven that it was difficult to keep one's foothold. However\nwe did 12½ miles, and felt that we had really done a good day's work when\nwe camped. It was not clear enough to survey in the evening, so I took\nthe sledge-meter in hand and worked at it half the night to repair\nChristopher's damage.[235] I ended up by making a fixing of which I was\nvery proud, but did not dare to look at the time, so I don't know how\nmuch sleep I missed.\n\n\"There is no doubt that Scott knows where to aim for in a glacier, as it\nwas just here that Shackleton had two or three of his worst days' work,\nin such a maze of crevasses that he said that often a slip meant death\nfor the whole party. He avoids the sides of the glacier and goes nowhere\nnear the snow: he often heads straight for apparent chaos and somehow,\nwhen we appear to have reached a cul-de-sac, we find it an open\nroad.\"[236] However, we all found the trouble on our way back.\n\n\"On our right we have now a pretty good view of the Adam, Marshall and\nWild Mountains, and their very curious horizontal stratification. Wright\nhas found, amongst bits of wind-blown débris, an undoubted bit of\nsandstone and a bit of black basalt. We must get to know more of the\ngeology before leaving the glacier finally.\"[237]\n\nDecember 19, +7°. Total height 5800 feet. \"Things are certainly looking\nup, seeing that we have risen 1100 feet, and marched 17 to 18 statute\nmiles during the day, whereas Shackleton's last march was 13 statute. It\nwas still thick when we turned out at 5.45, but it soon cleared with a\nfresh southerly wind, and we could see Buckley Island and the land at the\nhead of the glacier just rising. We started late for Birdie wanted to get\nour sledge-meter dished up: it has been quite a job to-day getting it on,\nbut it rode well this afternoon. We started over the same crevassed\nstuff, but soon got on to blue ice, and for two hours had a most pleasant\npull, and then up a steepish rise sometimes on blue ice and sometimes on\nsnow. After the pleasantest morning we have had, we completed 8½ miles.\n\n[Illustration: FROM MOUNT DEAKIN TO MOUNT KINSEY--E. A. Wilson, del.\nEmery Walker Limited, Collotypers.]\n\n\"Angles and observations were taken at lunch, and quite a lot of work was\ndone. There is a general getting squared up with gear, for we know that\nthose going on will not have many more days of warm temperatures. At one\ntime to-day I think Scott meant trying the right hand of the island or\nnunatak, but as we rose this was obviously impossible, for there is a\nhuge mass of pressure coming down there. From here the Dominion Range\nalso looks as if it were a nunatak. Some of these mountains, which don't\nlook very big, are huge (since the six thousand feet which we have risen\nhave to be added on to them), and many of them are very grand indeed. The\nMill Glacier is a vast thing, with big pressure across it. There also\nseems to be a big series of ice-falls between Buckley Island and the\nDominion Range, for the centre of which Scott is going to-morrow. A\npretty hard plug this afternoon, but no disturbance, and gradually we\nhave left the bare ice, and are mostly travelling on _névé_. Much of the\nice is white. I have been writing down angles and times for Birdie, and\nwriting this in the intervals. Scott's heel is troubling him again. ['I\nhave bad bruises on knee and thigh'],[238] and generally there has been a\nrun on the medical cases for chafes, and minor ailments. There is now a\nkeen southerly wind blowing. It gets a little colder each day, and we are\nalready beginning to feel it on our sunburnt faces and hands.\"[239]\n\nOf the crevasses met in the morning Bowers wrote: \"So far nobody has\ndropped down the length of his harness, as I did on the Cape Crozier\njourney. On this blue ice they are pretty conspicuous, and as they are\nmostly snow-bridged one is well advised to step over any line of snow.\nWith my short legs this was strenuous work, especially as the weight of\nthe sledge would often stop me with a jerk just before my leading foot\nquite cleared a crevasse, and the next minute one would be struggling out\nso as to keep the sledge on the move. It is fatal to stop the sledge as\nnobody waits for stragglers, and you have to pick up your lost ground by\nstrenuous hurry. Of course some one often gets so far down a hole that it\nis necessary to stop and help him out.\"\n\nDecember 20. \"To-day has been a great march--over two miles an hour, and\non the whole rising a lot. Soon after starting we got on to the most\nbeautiful icy surface, smooth except for cracks and only patches of snow,\nmost of which we could avoid. We came along at a great rate.\n\n\"The most interesting thing to see was that the Mill Glacier is not, as\nwas supposed, a tributary, but probably is an outlet falling from this\nglacier, and a great size. However it was soon covered up with dense\nblack cloud, and there were billows of cloud behind us and below.\n\n\"At lunch Birdie made the disastrous discovery that the registering dial\nof his sledge-meter was off. A screw had shaken out on the bumpy ice,\nand the clockwork had fallen off. This is serious for it means that one\nof the three returning parties will have to go without, and their\nnavigation will be much more difficult. Birdie is very upset, especially\nafter all the trouble he has taken with it, and the hours which he has\nsat up. After lunch he and Bill walked back near two miles in the tracks,\nbut could not see it. It was then getting very thick, coming over from\nthe north.\"[240] \"It appeared to be blizzing down the glacier, though\nclear to the south. The northerly wind drove up a back-draught of snow,\nand very soon fogged us completely. However we found our way back to camp\nby the crampon tracks on the blue ice and then packed up to leave.\"[241]\n\n\"We started, making a course to hit the east side of the island where\nthere seems to be the only break in the ice-falls which stretch right\nacross. The weather lifted, and we are now camped with the island just to\nour right, the long strata of coal showing plainly in it, and just in\nfront of us is this steep bit up through the falls. We have done nearly\n23 statute miles to-day, pulling 160 lbs. a man.\n\n\"This evening has been rather a shock. As I was getting my finnesko on to\nthe top of my ski beyond the tent Scott came up to me, and said that he\nwas afraid he had rather a blow for me. Of course I knew what he was\ngoing to say, but could hardly grasp that I was going back--to-morrow\nnight. The returning party is to be Atch, Silas, Keohane and self.\n\n[Illustration: NIGHT CAMP. BUCKLEY ISLAND--December 20, 1911]\n\n\"Scott was very put about, said he had been thinking a lot about it but\nhad come to the conclusion that the seamen with their special knowledge,\nwould be needed: to rebuild the sledge, I suppose. Wilson told me it was\na toss-up whether Titus or I should go on: that being so I think Titus\nwill help him more than I can. I said all I could think of--he seemed so\ncut up about it, saying 'I think, somehow, it is specially hard on you.'\nI said I hoped I had not disappointed him, and he caught hold of me and\nsaid 'No--no--No,' so if that is the case all is well. He told me that at\nthe bottom of the glacier he was hardly expecting to go on himself: I\ndon't know what the trouble is, but his foot is troubling him, and also,\nI think, indigestion.\"[242]\n\nScott just says in his diary, \"I dreaded this necessity of\nchoosing--nothing could be more heartrending.\" And then he goes on to sum\nup the situation, \"I calculated our programme to start from 85° 10´ with\n12 units of food and eight men. We ought to be in this position to-morrow\nnight, less one day's food. After all our harassing trouble one cannot\nbut be satisfied with such a prospect.\"[243]\n\nDecember 21. Upper Glacier Depôt. \"Started off with a nippy S.Wly. wind\nin our faces, but bright sunshine. One's nose and lips being chapped and\nmuch skinned with alternate heat and cold, a breeze in the face is\nabsolute agony until you warm up. This does not take long, however, when\npulling a sledge, so after the first quarter of an hour more or less one\nis comfortable unless the wind is very strong.\n\n\"We made towards the only place where it seemed possible to cross the\nmass of pressure ice caused by the junction of the plateau with the\nglacier, and congested between the nunatak [Buckley Island] and the\nDominion Range. Scott had considered at one time going up to westward of\nthe nunatak, but this appeared more chaotic than the other side. We made\nfor a slope close to the end of the island or nunatak, where Shackleton\nmust have got up also; it is obviously the only place when you look at it\nfrom a commanding rise. We did not go quite so close to the land as\nShackleton did, and therefore, as had been the case with us all the way\nup the glacier, found less difficulties than he met with. Scott is quite\nwonderful in his selections of route, as we have escaped excessive\ndangers and difficulties all along. In this case we had fairly good\ngoing, but got into a perfect mass of crevasses into which we all\ncontinually fell; mostly one foot, but often two, and occasionally we\nwent down altogether, some to the length of their harness to be hauled\nout with the Alpine rope. Most of them could be seen by the strip of snow\non the blue ice. They were often too wide to jump though, and the only\nthing was to plant your feet on the bridge and try not to tread heavily.\nAs a rule the centre of a bridged crevasse is the safest place, the\nrotten places are at the edges. We had to go over dozens by hopping right\non to the bridge and then over on to the ice. It is a bit of a jar when\nit gives way under you, but the friendly harness is made to trust one's\nlife to. The Lord only knows how deep these vast chasms go down, they\nseem to extend into blue black nothingness thousands of feet below.\n\n\"Before reaching the rise we had to go up and down many steep slopes, and\non the one side the sledges were overrunning us, and on the other it\nfairly took the juice out of you to reach the top. We saw the\nstratification on the nunatak which Shackleton supposed to be coal: there\nwas also much sandstone and red granite. I should like to have scratched\nround these rocks: we may get a chance on our return journey. As we\ntopped each rise we found another one beyond it, and so on.\n\n\"About noon some clouds settled in a fog round us, and being fairly in a\ntrough of crevasses we could not get on. Fortunately we found a snow\npatch to pitch the tents on, but even there were crevasses under us.\nHowever, we enjoyed a hearty lunch, and I improved the shining hour by\npreparing my rations for the Upper Glacier Depôt.\n\n\"At 3 P.M. it cleared, and Mount Darwin, a nunatak to the S.W. of the\nothers, could be seen. This we made for, and some two miles on exchanged\nblue ice for the new snow which was much harder pulling. Scott was fairly\nwound up, and he went on and on. Every rise topped seemed to fire him\nwith a desire to top the next, and every rise had another beyond and\nabove it. We camped at 8 P.M., all pretty weary, having come up nearly\n1500 feet, and done over eleven miles in a S.W. direction. We were south\nof Mount Darwin in 85° 7´ S., and our corrected altitude proved to be\n7000 feet above the Barrier. I worked up till a very late hour getting\nthe depôt stores ready, and also weighing out and arranging allowances\nfor the returning party, and arranging the stores and distribution of\nweights of the two parties going on. The temperature was down to zero\nto-day, the lowest it has been for some time this summer weather.\"[244]\n\n\"There is a very mournful air to-night--those going on and those turning\nback. Bill came in while I was cooking, to say good-bye. He told me he\nfully expected to come back with the next party: that he could see Scott\nwas going to take on the strongest fellows, perhaps three seamen. It\nwould be a great disappointment if Bill did not go on.\"[245]\n\nWe gave away any gear which we could spare to those going on, and I find\nthe following in my diary:\n\n\"I have been trying to give away my spare gear where it may be most\nacceptable: finnesko to Birdie, pyjama trousers to Bill, and a bag of\nbaccy for Bill to give Scott on Christmas Day, some baccy to Titus,\njaeger socks and half my scarf to Crean, and a bit of handkerchief to\nBirdie. Very tired to-night.\"\n\nScott wrote: \"We are struggling on, considering all things against odds.\nThe weather is a constant anxiety, otherwise arrangements are working\nexactly as planned.\n\n\"Here we are practically on the summit and up to date in the provision\nline. We ought to get through.\"[246]\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n [221] My own diary.\n\n [222] My own diary.\n\n [223] Bowers.\n\n [224] Scott.\n\n [225] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 497.\n\n [226] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 499.\n\n [227] Bowers.\n\n [228] My own diary.\n\n [229] Ibid.\n\n [230] Bowers.\n\n [231] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 506.\n\n [232] My own diary.\n\n [233] Ibid.\n\n [234] Bowers.\n\n [235] See p. 332.\n\n [236] Bowers.\n\n [237] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 509.\n\n [238] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 510.\n\n [239] My own diary.\n\n [240] My own diary.\n\n [241] Bowers.\n\n [242] My own diary.\n\n [243] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 511-512.\n\n [244] Bowers.\n\n [245] My own diary.\n\n [246] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 513.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nTHE POLAR JOURNEY (_continued_)\n\n People, perhaps, still exist who believe that it is of no\n importance to explore the unknown polar regions. This, of course,\n shows ignorance. It is hardly necessary to mention here of what\n scientific importance it is that these regions should be\n thoroughly explored. The history of the human race is a continual\n struggle from darkness towards light. It is, therefore, to no\n purpose to discuss the use of knowledge; man wants to know, and\n when he ceases to do so, he is no longer man.--NANSEN.\n\nIII. THE PLATEAU FROM MOUNT DARWIN TO LAT. 87° 32´ S.\n\n\n_First Sledge_ _Second Sledge_\nSCOTT LIEUT. EVANS\nWILSON BOWERS\nOATES LASHLY\nSEAMAN EVANS CREAN\n\nFor the first week on the plateau Bowers wrote a full diary, which I give\nbelow. After December 28 there are little more than fragmentary notes\nuntil January 19, the day the party started to return from the Pole. From\nthen until January 25, he wrote fully; nothing after that until January\n29, followed by more fragments to \"February 3rd (I suppose).\" That is the\nlast entry he made.\n\nBut this is not surprising, even in a man of Bowers' energy. The time a\nman can give to writing under such conditions is limited, and Bowers had\na great deal of it to do before he could think of a diary--the\nmeteorological log; sights for position as well as rating sights for\ntime; and all the routine work of weights, provisions and depôts. He\nwrote no diary at the Pole, but he made a very full meteorological report\nwhile there in addition to working out sights. The wonder is that he kept\na diary at all.\n\n * * * * *\n\n_From Bowers' Diary_\n\nDecember 22. _Midsummer Day._ We have had a brilliant day with a\ntemperature about zero and no wind, altogether charming conditions. I\nrigged up the Upper Glacier Depôt after breakfast. We depôted two\nhalf-weekly units for return of the two parties, also all crampons and\nglacier gear, such as ice-axes, crowbar, spare Alpine rope, etc.,\npersonal gear, medical, and in fact everything we could dispense with. I\nleft my old finnesko, wind trousers and some other spare gear in a bag\nfor going back.\n\nThe two advance parties' weights amounted to 190 lbs. per man. They\nconsisted of the permanent weights, twelve weeks' food and oil, spare\nsledge runners, etc. We said good-bye and sent back messages and photo\nfilms with the First Returning Party, which consisted of Atch, Cherry,\nSilas and Keohane. It was quite touching saying farewell to our good\npals--they wished us luck, and Cherry, Atch and Silas quite overwhelmed\nme.\n\nWe went forward, the Owner's team as before consisting of Dr. Bill, Titus\nand [Seaman] Evans, and [Lieut.] Teddy Evans and Lashly coming over to my\nsledge and tent to join up with Crean and myself. We all left the depôt\ncairn marked with two spare 10-feet sledge runners and a large black flag\non one. Our morning march was not so long as usual owing to making up the\ndepôt, but we did five miles uphill, hauling our heavier loads more\neasily than the lighter ones yesterday. A fall in the temperature had\nimproved the surface. We had also sandpapered our runners after the\ntearing up they had had on the glacier; this made a tremendous\ndifference. The afternoon march brought our total up to 10.6 miles for\nthe day on a S.W. course.\n\nWe are steering S.W. with a view to avoiding ice-falls which Shackleton\nmet with. We came across very few crevasses; the few we found were as\nbroad as a street, and crossing them the whole party, sledge and all,\nwould be on the bridge at once. They only gave way at the edges, and we\ndid nothing worse than put our feet through now and then. The surface is\nall snow now, névé and hard sastrugi, which seem to point to a strong\nprevalent S.S.E. wind here.\n\nWe are well clear of the land now, and it is a beautiful evening. I have\njust taken six photographs of the Dominion Range. We can see many new\nmountains. Our position by observation is 85° 13´ 29\" S., 161° 54´ 45\"\nE., variation being 175° 45´.\n\nDecember 23. Turned out at usual time, 5.45 A.M. I am cook this week in\nour tent. After breakfast built two cairns to mark spot and shoved off at\nquarter to eight.\n\nWe started up a big slope on a S.W. course to avoid the pressure which\nlay across our track to the southward. It was a pretty useful slog up the\nrise, at one time it seemed as if we would never top the slope. We\nstopped for five minutes to look round after 2½ hours' hard plugging and\nabout 1½ hours later reached the top, from which we could see the distant\nmountains which have so recently been our companions. They are beginning\nto look pretty magnificent. The top of the great pressure ridge was\nrunning roughly S.E. and N.W.: it was one of a succession of ridges which\nprobably cover an area of fifty or sixty square miles. In this\nneighbourhood Shackleton met them almost to 86½° south. At the top of the\nridge were vast crevasses into which we could have dropped the Terra Nova\neasily. The bridges were firm, however, except at the sides, though we\nhad frequent stumbles into the conservatory roof, so to speak. The\nsledges were rushed over them without mishap. We had to head farther west\nto clear disturbances, and at one time were going W.N.W.\n\nAt lunch camp we had done 8½ miles, and in the afternoon we completed\nfifteen on a S.W. course over improved ground. Our routine is to actually\nhaul our sledges for nine hours a day; five in the morning, 7.15 A.M.\ntill 1 P.M.; and four in the afternoon, 2.30 P.M.-6.30 P.M. We turn out\nat 5.45 A.M. just now. The loads are still pretty heavy, but the surface\nis remarkably good considering all things. One gets pretty weary towards\nthe end of the day; all my muscles have had their turn at being\n[stiffened] up. These hills are giving my back ones a reminder, but they\nwill ache less to-morrow and finally cease to do so, as is the case with\nlegs, etc., which had their turn first.\n\nDecember 24. _Christmas Eve._ We started off heading due south this\nmorning, as we are many miles to the westward of Shackleton's course and\nshould if anywhere be clear of the ice-falls and pressure. Of course no\nmortals having been here, one can only conjecture; as a matter of fact,\nwe found later in the day that we were not clear by any means, and had to\ndo a bit of dodging about to avoid disturbances, as well as mount vast\nridges with the tops of them a chaos of crevasses. The tops are pretty\nhard ice-snow, over which the sledges run easily; it is quite a holiday\nafter slogging up the slopes on the softer surface with our heavy loads,\nwhich amount to over 190 lbs. per man.\n\nWe mark our night camp by two cairns and our lunch camp by single ones.\nIt is doubtful, however, among these ridges, if we will ever pick them up\nagain, and it does not really matter, as we have excellent land for the\nUpper Glacier Depôt. We completed fourteen miles and turned in as usual\npretty tired.\n\nDecember 25. _Christmas Day._ A strange and strenuous Christmas for me,\nwith plenty of snow to look at and very little else. The breeze that had\nblown in our faces all yesterday blew more freshly to-day, with surface\ndrift. It fairly nipped one's nose and face starting off--until one got\nwarmed up. We had to pull in wind blouses, as though one's body kept warm\nenough on the march the arms got numbed with the penetrating wind no\nmatter how vigorously they were swung. Another thing is that one cannot\nstop the team on the march to get clothes on and off, so it is better to\ngo the whole hog and be too hot than cause delays. We had the addition of\na little pony meat for breakfast to celebrate the day. I am the cook of\nour tent this week.\n\nWe steered south again and struck our friends the crevasses and climbed\nridges again. About the middle of the morning we were all falling in\ncontinually, but Lashly in my team had the worst drop. He fell to the\nlength of his harness and the trace. I was glad that having noticed his\nrope rather worn, I had given him a new one a few days before. He jerked\nCrean and me off our feet backwards, and Crean's harness being jammed\nunder the sledge, which was half across an eight-feet bridge, he could do\nnothing. I was a little afraid of sledge and all going down, but\nfortunately the crevasse ran diagonally. We could not see Lashly, for a\ngreat overhanging piece of ice was over him. Teddy Evans and I cleared\nCrean and we all three got Lashly up with the Alpine rope cut into the\nsnow sides which overhung the hole. We then got the sledge into safety.\n\nTo-day is Lashly's birthday; he is married and has a family; is 44 years\nof age, and due for his pension from the service. He is as strong as most\nand is an undefeated old sportsman. Being a chief stoker, R.N., his\noriginal job was charge of one of the ill-fated motor sledges.\n\n[The following is Lashly's own account:\n\n\"Christmas Day and a good one. We have done 15 miles over a very changing\nsurface. First of all it was very much crevassed and pretty rotten; we\nwere often in difficulties as to which way we should tackle it. I had the\nmisfortune to drop clean through, but was stopped with a jerk when at the\nend of my harness. It was not of course a very nice sensation, especially\non Christmas Day, and being my birthday as well. While spinning round in\nspace like I was it took me a few seconds to gather together my thoughts\nand see what kind of a place I was in. It certainly was not a fairy's\nplace. When I had collected myself I heard some one calling from above,\n'Are you all right, Lashly?' I was all right it is true, but I did not\ncare to be dangling in the air on a piece of rope, especially when I\nlooked round and saw what kind of a place it was. It seemed about 50 feet\ndeep and 8 feet wide, and 120 feet long. This information I had ample\ntime to gain while dangling there. I could measure the width with my ski\nsticks, as I had them on my wrists. It seemed a long time before I saw\nthe rope come down alongside me with a bowline in it for me to put my\nfoot in and get dragged out. It was not a job I should care to have to go\nthrough often, as by being in the crevasse I had got cold and a bit\nfrost-bitten on the hands and face, which made it more difficult for me\nto help myself. Anyhow Mr. Evans, Bowers and Crean hauled me out and\nCrean wished me many happy returns of the day, and of course I thanked\nhim politely and the others laughed, but all were pleased I was not hurt\nbar a bit of a shake. It was funny although they called to the other team\nto stop they did not hear, but went trudging on and did not know until\nthey looked round just in time to see me arrive on top again. They then\nwaited for us to come up with them. The Captain asked if I was all right\nand could go on again, which I could honestly say 'Yes' to, and at night\nwhen we stopped for dinner I felt I could do two dinners in. Anyhow we\nhad a pretty good tuck-in. Dinner consisted of pemmican, biscuits,\nchocolate éclair, pony meat, plum pudding and crystallized ginger and\nfour caramels each. We none of us could hardly move.\"[247]]\n\nWe had done over eight miles at lunch. I had managed to scrape together\nfrom the Barrier rations enough extra food to allow us a stick of\nchocolate each for lunch, with two spoonfuls of raisins each in our tea.\nIn the afternoon we got clear of crevasses pretty soon, but towards the\nend of the afternoon Captain Scott got fairly wound up and went on and\non. The breeze died down and my breath kept fogging my glasses, and our\nwindproofs got oppressively warm and altogether things were pretty\nrotten. At last he stopped and we found we had done 14¾ miles. He said,\n\"What about fifteen miles for Christmas Day?\" so we gladly went\non--anything definite is better than indefinite trudging.\n\nWe had a great feed which I had kept hidden and out of the official\nweights since our departure from Winter Quarters. It consisted of a good\nfat hoosh with pony meat and ground biscuit; a chocolate hoosh made of\nwater, cocoa, sugar, biscuit, raisins, and thickened with a spoonful of\narrowroot. (This is the most satisfying stuff imaginable.) Then came 2½\nsquare inches of plum-duff each, and a good mug of cocoa washed down the\nwhole. In addition to this we had four caramels each and four squares of\ncrystallized ginger. I positively could not eat all mine, and turned in\nfeeling as if I had made a beast of myself. I wrote up my journal--in\nfact I should have liked somebody to put me to bed.\n\nDecember 26. We have seen many new ranges of mountains extending to the\nS.E. of the Dominion Range. They are very distant, however, and must\nevidently be the top of those bounding the Barrier. They could only be\nseen from the tops of the ridges as waves up which we are continually\nmounting. Our height yesterday morning by hypsometer was 8000 feet. That\nis our last hypsometer record, as I had the misfortune to break the\nthermometer. The hypsometer was one of my chief delights, and nobody\ncould have been more disgusted than myself at its breaking. However, we\nhave the aneroid to check the height. We are going gradually up and up.\nAs one would expect, a considerable amount of lassitude was felt over\nbreakfast after our feed last night. The last thing on earth I wanted to\ndo was to ship the harness round my poor tummy when we started. As usual\na stiff breeze from the south and a temperature of -7° blew in our faces.\nStrange to say, however, we don't get frost-bitten. I suppose it is the\nopen-air life.\n\nI could not tell if I had a frost-bite on my face now, as it is all\nscales, so are my lips and nose. A considerable amount of red hair is\nendeavouring to cover up matters. We crossed several ridges, and after\nthe effects of over-feeding had worn off did a pretty good march of\nthirteen miles.\n\n[No more Christmas Days, so no more big hooshes.[248]]\n\nDecember 27. There is something the matter with our sledge or our team,\nas we have an awful slog to keep up with the others. I asked Dr. Bill and\nhe said their sledge ran very easily. Ours is nothing but a desperate\ndrag with constant rallies to keep up. We certainly manage to do so, but\nI am sure we cannot keep this up for long. We are all pretty well done up\nto-night after doing 13.3 miles.\n\nOur salvation is on the summits of the ridges, where hard névé and\nsastrugi obtain, and we skip over this slippery stuff and make up lost\nground easily. In soft snow the other team draw steadily ahead, and it is\nfairly heart-breaking to know you are putting your life out hour after\nhour while they go along with little apparent effort.\n\nDecember 28. The last few days have been absolutely cloudless, with\nunbroken sunshine for twenty-four hours. It sounds very nice, but the\ntemperature never comes above zero and what Shackleton called \"the\npitiless increasing wind\" of the great plateau continues to blow at all\ntimes from the south. It never ceases, and all night it whistles round\nthe tents, all day it blows in our faces. Sometimes it is S.S.E., or S.E.\nto S., and sometimes even S. to W., but always southerly, chiefly\naccompanied by low drift which at night forms quite a deposit round the\nsledges. We expected this wind, so we must not growl at getting it. It\nwill be great fun sailing the sledges back before it. As far as weather\nis concerned we have had remarkably fine days up here on this limitless\nsnow plain. I should like to know what there is beneath us--mountains and\nvalleys simply levelled off to the top with ice? We constantly come\nacross disturbances which I can only imagine are caused by the peaks of\nice-covered mountains, and no doubt some of the ice-falls and crevasses\nare accountable to the same source. Our coming west has not cleared them,\nas we have seen more disturbances to the west, many miles away. However,\nthey are getting less and less, and are now nothing but featureless rises\nwith apparently no crevasses. Our first two hours' pulling to-day....\n\n * * * * *\n\n_From Lashly's Diary_\n\nDecember 29, 1911. A nasty head wind all day and low drift which\naccumulates in patches and makes it the deuce of a job to get along. We\nhave got to put in long days to do the distance.\n\nDecember 30, 1911. Sledges going heavy, surface and wind the same as\nyesterday. We depôted our ski to-night, that is the party returning\n_to-morrow_, when we march in the forenoon and camp to change our sledge\nrunners into 10 feet. Done 11 miles but a bit stiff.\n\nDecember 31, 1911. After doing 7 miles we camped and done the sledges\nwhich took us until 11 P.M., and we had to dig out to get them done by\nthen, made a depôt and saw the old year out and the new year in. We all\nwondered where we should be next New Year. It was so still and quiet; the\nweather was dull and overcast all night, in fact we have not seen much of\nthe sun lately; it would be so nice if we could sometimes get a glimpse\nof it, the sun is always cheering.\n\nJanuary 1912. _New Year's Day._ We pushed on as usual, but were rather\nlate getting away, 9.10--something unusual for us to be as late. The\ntemperature and wind is still very troublesome. We are now ahead of\nShackleton's dates and have passed the 87th parallel, so it is only 180\nmiles to the Pole.\n\nJanuary 2, 1912. The dragging is still very heavy and we seem to be\nalways climbing higher. We are now over 10,000 feet above sea level. It\nmakes it bad as we don't get enough heat in our food and the tea is not\nstrong enough to run out of the pot. Everything gets cold so quickly, the\nwater boils at about 196° F.\n\n * * * * *\n\nScott's own diary of this first fortnight on the plateau shows the\nimmense shove of the man: he was getting every inch out of the miles,\nevery ounce out of his companions. Also he was in a hurry, he always was.\nThat blizzard which had delayed him just before the Gateway, and the\nresulting surfaces which had delayed him in the lower reaches of the\nglacier! One can feel the averages running through his brain: so many\nmiles to-day: so many more to-morrow. When shall we come to an end of\nthis pressure? Can we go straight or must we go more west? And then the\ngreat undulating waves with troughs eight miles wide, and the buried\nmountains, causing whirlpools in the ice--how immense, and how annoying.\nThe monotonous march: the necessity to keep the mind concentrated to\nsteer amongst disturbances: the relief of a steady plod when the\ndisturbances cease for a time: then more pressure and more crevasses.\nAlways slog on, slog on. Always a fraction of a mile more.... On December\n30 he writes, \"We have caught up Shackleton's dates.\"[249]\n\nThey made wonderful marches, averaging nearly fifteen statute miles (13\ngeog.) a day for the whole-day marches until the Second Return Party\nturned back on January 4. Scott writes on December 26, \"It seems\nastonishing to be disappointed with a march of 15 (statute) miles when I\nhad contemplated doing little more than 10 with full loads.\"[250]\n\nThe Last Returning Party came back with the news that Scott must reach\nthe Pole with the greatest ease. This seemed almost a certainty: and yet\nit was, as we know now, a false impression. Scott's plans were based on\nShackleton's averages over the same country. The blizzard came and put\nhim badly behind: but despite this he caught Shackleton up. No doubt the\ngeneral idea then was that Scott was going to have a much easier time\nthan he had expected. We certainly did not realize then, and I do not\nthink Scott himself had any notion of, the price which had been paid.\n\nOf the three teams of four men each which started from the bottom of the\nBeardmore, Scott's team was a very long way the strongest: it was the\nteam which, with one addition, went to the Pole. Lieutenant Evans' team\nhad mostly done a lot of man-hauling already: it was hungry and I think a\nbit stale. Bowers' team was fresh and managed to keep up for the most\npart, but it was very done at the end of the day. Scott's own team went\nalong with comparative ease. From the top of the glacier two teams went\non during the last fortnight of which we have been speaking. The first of\nthem was Scott's unit complete, just as it had pulled up the glacier. The\nsecond team consisted, I believe, of the men whom Scott considered to be\nthe strongest; two from Evans' team, and two from Bowers'. All Scott's\nteam were fresh to the extent that they had done no man-hauling until we\nstarted up the glacier. But two of the other team, Lieutenant Evans and\nLashly, had been man-hauling since the breakdown of the second motor on\nNovember 1. They had man-hauled four hundred statute miles farther than\nthe rest. Indeed Lashly's man-hauling journey from Corner Camp to beyond\n87° 32´ S., and back, is one of the great feats of polar travelling.\n\nSurely and not very slowly, Scott's team began to wear down the other\nteam. They were going easily when the others were making heavy weather\nand were sometimes far behind. During the fortnight they rose, according\nto the corrected observations, from 7151 feet (Upper Glacier Depôt) to\n9392 feet above sea level (Three Degree Depôt). The rarefied air of the\nPlateau with its cold winds and lower temperatures, just now about -10°\nto -12° at night and -3° during the day, were having their effect on the\nsecond team, as well as the forced marches. This is quite clear from\nScott's diary, and from the other diaries also. What did not appear until\nafter the Last Returning Party had turned homewards was that the first\nteam was getting worn out too. This team which had gone so strong up the\nglacier, which had done those amazingly good marches on the plateau,\nbroke up unexpectedly and in some respects rapidly from the 88th parallel\nonwards.\n\nSeaman Evans was the first man to crack. He was the heaviest, largest,\nmost muscular man we had, and that was probably one of the main reasons:\nfor his allowance of food was the same as the others. But one mishap\nwhich contributed to his collapse seems to have happened during this\nfirst fortnight on the plateau. On December 31 the 12-feet sledges were\nturned into 10-feet ones by stripping off the old scratched runners which\nhad come up the glacier and shipping new 10-feet ones which had been\nbrought for the purpose. This job was done by the seamen, and Evans\nappears to have had some accident to his hand, which is mentioned several\ntimes afterwards.\n\nMeanwhile Scott had to decide whom he was going to take on with him to\nthe Pole,--for it was becoming clear that in all probability he _would_\nreach the Pole: \"What castles one builds now hopefully that the Pole is\nours,\" he wrote the day after the supporting party left him. The final\nadvance to the Pole was, according to plan, to have been made by four\nmen. We were organized in four-man units: our rations were made up for\nfour men for a week: our tents held four men: our cookers held four mugs,\nfour pannikins and four spoons. Four days before the Supporting Party\nturned, Scott ordered the second sledge of four men to depôt their ski.\nIt is clear, I suppose, that at this time he meant the Polar Party to\nconsist of four men. I think there can be no doubt that he meant one of\nthose men to be himself: \"for your own ear also, I am exceedingly fit and\ncan go with the best of them,\" he wrote from the top of the glacier.[251]\n\nHe changed his mind and went forward a party of five: Scott, Wilson,\nBowers, Oates and Seaman Evans. I am sure he wished to take as many men\nas possible to the Pole. He sent three men back: Lieutenant Evans in\ncharge, and two seamen, Lashly and Crean. It is the vivid story of those\nthree men, who turned on January 4 in latitude 87° 32´, which is told by\nLashly in the next chapter. Scott wrote home: \"A last note from a hopeful\nposition. I think it's going to be all right. We have a fine party going\nforward and arrangements are all going well.\"[252]\n\nTen months afterwards we found their bodies.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n [247] Lashly's diary.\n\n [248] Lashly's diary.\n\n [249] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 525.\n\n [250] Ibid. p. 521.\n\n [251] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 513.\n\n [252] Ibid. p. 529.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\nTHE POLAR JOURNEY (_continued_)\n\n THE DEVIL. And these are the creatures in whom you discover what\n you call a Life Force!\n\n DON JUAN. Yes; for now comes the most surprising part of the\n whole business.\n\n THE STATUE. What's that?\n\n DON JUAN. Why, that you can make any of these cowards brave by\n simply putting an idea into his head.\n\n THE STATUE. Stuff! As an old soldier I admit the cowardice: it's\n as universal as sea sickness, and matters just as little. But\n that about putting an idea into a man's head is stuff and\n nonsense. In a battle all you need to make you fight is a little\n hot blood and the knowledge that it's more dangerous to lose than\n to win.\n\n DON JUAN. That is perhaps why battles are so useless. But men\n never really overcome fear until they imagine they are fighting\n to further a universal purpose--fighting for an idea, as they\n call it.\n\n BERNARD SHAW, _Man and Superman._\n\nIV. RETURNING PARTIES\n\n\nTwo Dog Teams (Meares and Dimitri) turned back from the bottom of the\nBeardmore Glacier on December 11, 1911. They reached Hut Point on January\n4, 1912.\n\nFirst Supporting Party (Atkinson, Cherry-Garrard, Wright, Keohane) turned\nback in lat. 85° 15´ on December 22, 1911. They reached Hut Point January\n26, 1912.\n\nLast Supporting Party (Lieut. Evans, Lashly, Crean) turned back in lat.\n87° 32´ on January 4, 1912. They reached Hut Point February 22, 1912.\n\nOf the three teams which started up the Beardmore Glacier the first to\nreturn, a fortnight after starting the Summit Rations, was known as the\nFirst Supporting Party: the second to return, a month after starting the\nSummit Rations, was known as the Last Supporting Party. Of the two\ndog-teams under Meares, which had already turned homewards at the bottom\nof the glacier after having been brought forward farther than had been\nintended, I will speak later.[253]\n\nI am going to say very little about the First Return Party, which\nconsisted of Atkinson, Wright, Keohane and myself. Atkinson was in\ncommand, and before we left Scott told him to bring the dog-teams out to\nmeet the Polar Party if, as seemed likely, Meares returned home. Atkinson\nis a naval surgeon and you will find this party referred to in Lashly's\ndiary as \"the Doctor's.\"\n\n\"It was a sad job saying good-bye. It was thick, snowing and drifting\nclouds when we started back after making the depôt, and the last we saw\nof them as we swung the sledge north was a black dot just disappearing\nover the next ridge and a big white pressure wave ahead of them.... Scott\nsaid some nice things when we said good-bye. Anyway he has only to\naverage seven miles a day to get to the Pole on full rations--it's\npractically a cert for him. I do hope he takes Bill and Birdie. The view\nover the ice-falls and pressure by the Mill Glacier from the top of the\nice-falls is one of the finest things I have ever seen. Atch is doing us\nproud.\"[254]\n\nNo five hundred mile journey down the Beardmore and across the Barrier\ncan be uneventful, even in midsummer. We had the same dreary drag, the\nsame thick weather, fears and anxieties which other parties have had. A\ntouch of the same dysentery and sickness: the same tumbles and crevasses:\nthe same Christmas comforts, a layer of plum pudding at the bottom of our\ncocoa, and some rocks collected from a moraine under the Cloudmaker: the\nsame groping for tracks: the same cairns lost and found, the same\nsnow-blindness and weariness, nightmares, food dreams.... Why repeat?\nComparatively speaking it was a very little journey: and yet the distance\nfrom Cape Evans to the top of the Beardmore Glacier and back is 1164\nstatute miles. Scott's Southern Journey of 1902-3 was 950 statute miles.\n\nOne day only is worth recalling. We got into the same big pressure above\nthe Cloudmaker which both the other parties experienced. But where the\nother two parties made east to get out of it, we went west at Wright's\nsuggestion: west was right. The day really lives in my memory because of\nthe troubles of Keohane. He fell into crevasses to the full length of his\nharness eight times in twenty-five minutes. Little wonder he looked a bit\ndazed. And Atkinson went down into one chasm head foremost: the worst\ncrevasse fall I've ever seen. But luckily the shoulder straps of his\nharness stood the strain and we pulled him up little the worse.\n\nAll three parties off the plateau owed a good deal to Meares, who, on his\nreturn with the two dog-teams, built up the cairns which had been\nobliterated by the big blizzard of December 5-8. The ponies' walls were\ndrifted level with the surface, and Meares himself had an anxious time\nfinding his way home. The dog tracks also helped us a good deal: the dogs\nwere sinking deeply and making heavy weather of it.\n\n[Illustration: ADAMS MOUNTAINS]\n\n[Illustration: Cherry-Garrard. Keohane. Atkinson--FIRST RETURN PARTY]\n\nAt the Barrier Depôts we found rather despondent notes from Meares about\nhis progress. To the Southern Barrier Depôt he had uncomfortably high\ntemperatures and a very soft surface, and found the cairns drifted up and\nhard to see. At the Middle Barrier Depôt we found a note from him dated\nDecember 20. \"Thick weather and blizzards had delayed him, and once he\nhad got right off the tracks and had been out from his camp hunting for\nthem. They were quite well: a little eye strain from searching for\ncairns. He was taking a little butter from each bag [of the three depôted\nweekly units], and with this would have enough to the next depôt on short\nrations.\"[255] At the Upper Glacier Depôt [Mount Hooper] the news from\nMeares was dated Christmas Eve, in the evening: \"The dogs were going\nslowly but steadily in very soft stuff, especially his last two days.\nHe was running short of food, having only biscuit crumbs, tea, some\ncornflour, and half a cup of pemmican. He was therefore taking fifty\nbiscuits, and a day's provisions for two men from each of our units. He\nhad killed one American dog some camps back: if he killed more he was\ngoing to kill Krisravitza who he said was the fattest and laziest. We\nshall take on thirty biscuits short.\"[256] Meares was to have turned\nhomewards with the two dog-teams in lat. 81° 15´. Scott took him on to\napproximately 83° 35´. The dogs had the ponies on which to feed: to make\nup the deficiency of man-food we went one biscuit a day short when going\nup the Beardmore: but the dogs went back slower than was estimated and\nhis provisions were insufficient. It was evident that the dog-teams would\narrive too late and be too done to take out the food which had still to\nbe sledged to One Ton for the three parties returning from the plateau.\nIt was uncertain whether a man-hauling party with such of this food as\nthey could drag would arrive at the depôt before us.[257] We might have\nto travel the 130 geographical miles from One Ton to Hut Point on the\nlittle food which was already at that depôt and we were saving food by\ngoing on short rations to meet this contingency if it arose. Judge\ntherefore our joy when we reached One Ton in the evening of January 15 to\nfind three of the five XS rations which were necessary for the three\nparties. A man-hauling party consisting of Day, Nelson, Hooper and\nClissold had brought out this food; they left a note saying the crevasses\nnear Corner Camp were bad and open. Day and Hooper had reached Cape Evans\nfrom the Barrier[258] on December 21: they started out again on this\ndepôt-laying trip on December 26.\n\nIt is a common experience for men who have been hungry to be ill after\nreaching plenty of food. Atkinson was not at all well during our journey\nin to Hut Point, which we reached without difficulty on January 26.\n\nWhen I was looking for data concerning the return of the Last Supporting\nParty of which no account has been published, I wrote to Lashly and asked\nhim to meet and tell me all he could remember. He was very willing, and\nadded that somewhere or other he had a diary which he had written:\nperhaps it might be of use? I asked him to send it me, and was sent some\ndirty thumbed sheets of paper. And this is what I read:\n\n _3rd January 1912._\n\nVery heavy going to-day. This will be our last night together, as we are\nto return to-morrow after going on in the forenoon with the party chosen\nfor the Pole, that is Capt. Scott, Dr. Wilson, Capt. Oates, Lieut. Bowers\nand Taff Evans. The Captain said he was satisfied we were all in good\ncondition, fit to do the journey, but only so many could go on, so it was\nhis wish Mr. Evans, Crean and myself should return. He was quite aware we\nshould have a very stiff job, but we told him we did not mind that,\nproviding he thought they could reach the Pole with the assistance we had\nbeen able to give them. The first time I have heard we were having mules\ncoming down to assist us next year. I was offering to remain at Hut\nPoint, to be there if any help was needed, but the Captain said it was\nhis and also Capt. Oates' wish if the mules arrived I was to take charge\nof and look after them until their return; but if they did not arrive\nthere was no reason why I should not come to Hut Point and wait their\nreturn. We had a long talk with the owner [Scott] in our tent about\nthings in general and he seemed pretty confident of success. He seemed a\nbit afraid of us getting hung up, but as he said we had a splendid\nnavigator, who he was sure he could trust to pull us through. He also\nthanked us all heartily for the way we had assisted in the Journey and he\nshould be sorry when we parted. We are of course taking the mail, but\nwhat a time before we get back to send it. We are nearly as far as\nShackleton was on his Journey. I shall not write more to-night, it is too\ncold.\n\n _4th January 1912._\n\nWe accompanied the Pole party for about five miles and everything seemed\nto be going pretty well and Capt. Scott said they felt confident they\ncould pull the load quite well, so there was no more need for us to go\non farther; so we stopped and did all the talking we could in a short\ntime. We wished them every success and a safe return, and asked each one\nif there was anything we could do for them when we got back, but they\nwere all satisfied they had left nothing undone, so the time came for the\nlast handshake and good-bye. I think we all felt it very much. They then\nwished us a speedy return and safe, and then they moved off. We gave them\nthree cheers, and watched them for a while until we began to feel cold.\nThen we turned and started for home. We soon lost sight of each other. We\ntravelled a long time so as to make the best of it while the weather was\nsuitable, as we have to keep up a good pace on the food allowance. It\nwont do to lay up much. One thing since we left Mt. Darwin, we have had\nweather we could travel in, although we have not seen the sun much of\nlate. We did 13 miles as near as we can guess by the cairns we have\npassed. We have not got a sledge meter so shall have to go by guess all\nthe way home.\n\n[Owing to the loss of a sledge meter on the Beardmore Glacier one of the\nthree parties had to return without one. A sledge meter gives the\nnavigator his dead reckoning, indicating the miles travelled, like the\nlog of a ship. To be deprived of it in a wilderness of snow without\nlandmarks adds enormously to the difficulties and anxieties of a sledge\nparty.]\n\n _5th January 1912._\n\nWe were up and off this morning, the weather being fine but the surface\nis about the same, the temperature keeps low. We have got to change our\npulling billets. Crean has become snow-blind to-day through being leader,\nso I shall have the job to-morrow, as Mr. Evans seems to get blind rather\nquickly, so if I lead and he directs me from behind we ought to get along\npretty well. I hope my eyes will keep alright. We made good 17 miles and\ncamped.\n\n _6th January 1912._\n\nWe are making good progress on the surface we have to contend with. We\npicked up the 3 Degree Depôt soon after noon, which puts us up to time.\nWe took our provision for a week. We have got to reach Mt. Darwin Depôt,\na distance of 120 miles, with 7 days' provisions. We picked up our ski\nand camped for the night. We have been wondering if the others have got\nthe same wind as us. If so it is right in their face, whereas it is at\nour back, a treat to what it is facing it. Crean's eyes are pretty bad\nto-night. Snow-blindness is an awful complaint, and no one I can assure\nyou looks forward with pleasure when it begins to attack.\n\n _7th January 1912._\n\nWe have had a very good day as far as travelling goes, the wind has been\nbehind us and is a great help to us. We have been on ski all day for the\nfirst time. It seems a good change to footing it, the one thing day after\nday gets on one's nerves. Crean's eyes are a bit better to-day, but far\nfrom being well. The temperature is pretty low, which dont improve the\nsurface for hauling, but we seem to be getting along pretty well. We have\nno sledge meter so we have to go by guess. Mr. Evans says we done 17½\nmiles, but I say 16½. I am not going to over-estimate our day's run, as I\nam taking charge of the biscuits so that we dont over-step the mark. This\nwe have all agreed to so that we should exactly know how we stand, from\nday to day. I am still leading, not very nice as the light is bad. We\ncaught a glimpse of the land to the east of us, but could only have been\na mirage.\n\n _8th January 1912._\n\nOn turning out this morning we found it was blowing a bliz. so it was\nalmost a case of having to remain in camp, but on second thoughts we\nthought it best to kick off as we cant afford to lay up on account of\nfood, so thought it best to push on. I wonder if the Pole Party have\nexperienced this. If so they could not travel as it would be in their\nface, where we have got it at our back. We have lost the outward bound\ntrack, so have decided to make a straight line to Mt. Darwin, which will\nbe on Shackleton's course according to his and Wild's Diary.\n\n[Each of the three parties which went forward up the Beardmore Glacier\ncarried extracts from the above diaries. Wild was Shackleton's right-hand\nman in his Southern Journey in 1908.]\n\n _9th January 1912._\n\nTravelling is very difficult, bad light and still blizzing; it would have\nbeen impossible to keep in touch with the cairns in this weather. I am\ngiving 12 miles to-night. The weather have moderated a bit and looks a\nbit more promising. Can see land at times.\n\n _10th January 1912._\n\nThe light is still very bad, with a good deal of drift, but we must push\non as we are a long way from our depôt, but we hope to reach it before\nour provisions run out. I am keeping a good eye on them. Crean's eyes\nhave got alright again now.\n\n _11th January 1912._\n\nThings are a bit better to-day. Could see the land alright and where to\nsteer for. It is so nice to have something to look at, but I am thinking\nwe shall all have our work cut out to reach the depôt before our\nprovisions run short. I am deducting a small portion each meal so that we\nshall not have to go without altogether if we don't bring up at the\nproper time. Have done about 14 miles.\n\n _12th January 1912._\n\nThe day has been full of adventure. At first we got into some very rough\nstuff, with plenty of crevasses. Had to get rid of the ski and put our\nthinking cap on, as we had not got under way long before we were at the\ntop of some ice-falls; these probably are what Shackleton spoke of. We\ncould see it meant a descent of 600/700 feet, or make a big circuit,\nwhich meant a lot of time and a big delay, and this we cant afford just\nnow, so we decided on the descent into the valley. This proved a\ndifficult task, as we had no crampons, having left them at Mt. Darwin\nDepôt; but we managed after a time by getting hold of the sledge each\nside and allowing her to run into a big lump of pressure which was we\nknew a risky thing to do. It took us up to lunch time to reach the\nvalley, where we camped for lunch, where we all felt greatly relieved,\nhaving accomplished the thing safely, no damage to ourselves or the\nsledge, but we lost one of Crean's ski sticks. Some of the crevasses we\ncrossed were 100 to 200 feet wide, but well bridged in the centre, but\nthe edges were very dangerous indeed. This is where the snow and ice\nbegins to roll down the glacier. After starting on our way again we found\nwe had to climb the hill. Things dont look very nice ahead again\nto-night. We dont seem to be more than a day's run from the depôt, but it\nwill surprise me if we reach it by to-morrow night; if not we shall have\nto go on short rations, as our supply is nearly run out, and we have not\nlost any time, but we knew on starting we had to average 15½ miles per\nday to reach it in time.\n\n _13th January 1912._\n\nThis has been a very bad day for us, what with ice-falls and crevasses.\nWe feel all full up to-night. The strain is tremendous some days. We are\ncamped, but not at the depôt, but we hope to pick it up some time\nto-morrow. We shall be glad to get off the Summit, as the temperature is\nvery low. We expected the party would have reached the Pole yesterday,\nproviding they had anything of luck.\n\n[Scott reached the Pole on January 17.]\n\n _14th January 1912._\n\nSunday, we reached the Mt. Darwin Depôt at 2 P.M. and camped for lunch.\nWe had just enough now for our meal; this is cutting it a bit fine. We\nhave now taken our 3½ days' allowance, which has got to take us another\n57 miles to the Cloudmaker Depôt. This we shall do if we all keep as fit\nas we seem just now. We left a note at the depôt to inform the Captain of\nour safe arrival, wishing them the best of a journey home. We are quite\ncheerful here to-night, after having put things right at the depôt, where\nwe found the sugar exposed to the sun; it had commenced to melt, but we\nput everything alright before we left, and picked up our crampons and\ngot away as soon as we could. We know there is not much time to spare. We\nare now beginning to descend rapidly. To-night it is quite warm, and our\ntea and food is warmer. Things are going pretty favourable. We are\nlooking forward to making good runs down the glacier. We have had some\nvery heavy dragging lately [up] the sharp rises we found on the outward\njourney. After a sharp rise we found a long gradual run down, two and\nthree miles in length. We noticed this on our outward journey and\nremarked on it, but coming back the long uphill drag we found out was\npretty heavy work.\n\n _15th January 1912._\n\nHad a good run to-day but the ice was very rough and very much crevassed,\nbut with crampons on we made splendid progress. We did not like to stop,\nbut we thought it would not be advisable to overdo our strength as it is\na long way to go yet.\n\n _16th January 1912._\n\nWe made good headway again to-day, but to-night we camped in some very\nrough ice and pressure ridges. We are under the impression we are\nslightly out of our proper course, but Mr. Evans thinks we cant be very\nfar out either way, and Crean and I are of the same opinion according to\nthe marks on the land. Anyhow we hope to get out of it in the morning and\nmake the Cloudmaker Depôt by night. We shall then feel safe, but the\nweather dont look over promising again to-night, I am thinking. So far we\nhave not had to stop for weather. We have wondered if the Pole Party have\nbeen as lucky with the weather as we have. They ought by now to be\nhomeward bound. We have more chance now of writing as the temperature is\nmuch better down here. To-night we have been discussing how the dogs got\nhome, and also the progress made by the Doctor's [Atkinson] Party. They\nought to be nearing home. We have thought of the time it will take us to\nreach it at the rate we are getting along now.\n\n _17th January 1912._\n\nWe have to-day experienced what we none of us ever wants to be our lot\nagain. I cannot describe the maze we got into and the hairbreadth escapes\nwe have had to pass through to-day. This day we shall remember all our\nlives. The more we tried to get clear the worse the pressure got; at\ntimes it seemed almost impossible for us to get along, and when we had\ngot over the places it was more than we could face to try and retreat; so\nwe struggled on for hours to try and free ourselves, but everything\nseemed against us. I was leading with a long trace so that I could get\nacross some of the ridges when we thought it possible to get the sledge\nover without being dashed down into the fathomless pits each side of us\nwhich were too numerous to think of. Often and often we saw openings\nwhere it was possible to drop the biggest ship afloat in and loose her.\nThis is what we have travelled over all day. It has been a great strain\non us all, and Mr. Evans is rather down and thinks he has led us into\nsuch a hole, but as we have told him it is no fault of his, as it is\nimpossible for anyone coming down the glacier to see what is ahead of\nthem, so we must be thankful that we are so far safe. To-night we seem to\nbe in a better place. We have camped not being able to reach the depôt,\nwhich we are certain is not far off. Dont want many days like this.\n\n[Illustration: BELOW THE CLOUDMAKER]\n\n _18th January 1912._\n\nWe started off all in good spirits trusting we should be able to reach\nthe depôt all in good time, but we had not got far before we came into\npressure far worse than we were in yesterday. My God! what a day this\nhave been for us all. I cannot describe what we really have to-day come\nthrough, no one could believe that we came through with safety, if we had\nonly had a camera we could have obtained some photographs that would have\nsurprised anyone living. We travelled all day with very little food, as\nwe are a day and a half overdue, but when we got clear, I can say \"clear\"\nnow because I am dotting down this at the depôt where we have arrived. I\nhad managed to keep behind just a small amount of biscuit and a drop of\ntea to liven us up to try and reach the depôt, which we reached at 11\nP.M. after one of the most trying days of my life. Shall have reason to\nnever forget the 17 and 18 of January, 1912. To-night Mr. Evans is\ncomplaining of his eyes, more trouble ahead!\n\n _19th January 1912._\n\nAfter putting the depôt in order and re-arranging things, we kicked off\nagain for D. [Lower Glacier] Depôt. Mr. Evans' eyes were very bad on\nstarting this morning, but we made a pretty good start. I picked some\nrock to-day which I intend to try and get back with, as it is the only\nchance we have had of getting any up to the present, and it seemed a\nfunny thing: the rock I got some pieces of looked as if someone before me\nhad been chipping some off. I wonder if it was the Doctor's party, but we\ncould not see any trace of their sledge, but we could account for that,\nas it was all blue ice and not likely to leave any marks behind. After\ntravelling for some distance we got on the same ridge as we ran along on\nthe outward Journey and passed what we took to be the Doctor's Xmas Camp.\nWe had not gone far past before we got into soft snow, so we decided to\ncamp for lunch. Mr. Evans' eyes being very bad indeed, we are travelling\nnow on our own, I am leading and telling him the course I am steering,\nthat is the different marks on the mountains, but we shall keep on this\nridge for some distance yet. After lunch to-day we did not proceed far\nbefore we decided to camp, the surface being so bad and Mr. Evans' eyes\nso bad, we thought it would do us all good to have a rest. Last night we\nleft a note for Capt. Scott, but did not say much about our difficulties\njust above the Cloudmaker, as it would be better to tell him when we see\nhim.\n\n _20th January 1912._\n\nWe did not get away very smart to-day, but as we found the surface very\nsoft, we decided to go on ski. Mr. Evans is still suffering with his eyes\nand badly, after getting his ski on we tied him on to the trace so that\nhe could help to drag a bit, when we were troubling about the ridges we\ncame over on our outward Journey, but strange to say we never\nencountered any ridges at all and the surface, although very soft, was\nthe best I have ever sledged over ever since I have been at it. We\nfancied on our left or to the west we saw what we took to be the ridges\nwhat we seem to have missed altogether, although Mr. Evans have been\nblind and could not see anything at all we have made splendid progress\nand covered at least 20 miles, as near as we can guess. We passed to-day\none of the Doctor's homeward bound camps, and kept on their track for\nsome time, but finally lost it. We are camped to-night and we all feel\nconfident we shall, if the weather remains good, reach the depôt\nto-morrow night.\n\n _21st January 1912._\n\nSunday: We started off as usual, again on ski, the weather again being\nfavourable. Mr. Evans' eyes is still bad, but improving. It will be a\ngood job when they are better. I picked up our outward bound course soon\nafter we started this morning and asked Mr. Evans if I should try and\nkeep it, as it will save him the trouble of directing me, and another\nthing we came out without going through any crevasses and I have noticed\na good many crevasses to-day what seems to be very dangerous ones, and on\ntwo occasions where our sledges [on the outward journey] had gone over,\ntwo of the crevasses had fallen through. We accomplished the journey from\nthe Cloudmaker to this depôt in three days. We all feel quite proud of\nour performance. Mr. Evans is a lot better to-night and old Tom is giving\nus a song while he is covering up the tent with snow. We have re-arranged\nthe depôt and left our usual note for Capt. Scott, wishing them a speedy\nreturn. To-morrow we hope to see and reach the Barrier, and be clear of\nthe Beardmore for ever. We none of us minds the struggle we have been\nthrough to attain the amount of success so far reached. It is all for the\ngood of science, as Crean says. We reached the depôt at 6.45 P.M.\n\n[Illustration: FROM MOUNT KYFFIN TO MOUNT PATRICK--E. A. Wilson, del.\nEmery Walker Limited, Collotypers.]\n\n _22nd January 1912._\n\nWe made a good start this morning and Mr. Evans' eyes is got pretty well\nalright again, so things looks a bit brighter. After starting we soon\ngot round the corner from the Granite Pillars to between the mainland and\nMt. Hope, on rising up on the slope between the mountain and the\nmainland, as soon as we sighted the Barrier, Crean let go one huge yell\nenough to frighten the ponies out of their graves of snow, and no more\nBeardmore for me after this. When we began to descend on to the Barrier\nit only required one of us to drag the sledge down to within a mile of\nthe pony and sledge depôt, after exchanging our sledge as arranged,\npicking up a small amount of pony meat, and fitted up bamboo for mast so\nthat we shall be able to fix up a sail when favourable, we proceeded on\nour way to cross the Barrier. We have now 360 miles to travel\ngeographically to get to Hut Point. Mr. Evans complained to me while\noutside the tent that he had a stiffness at the back of his legs behind\nthe knees. I asked him what he thought it was, and he said could not\naccount for it, so if he dont soon get rid of it I am to have a look and\nsee if anything is the matter with him, as I know from what I have seen\nand been told before the symptoms of scurvy is pains and swelling behind\nthe knee round the ankle and loosening of the teeth, ulcerated gums.\nTo-night I watched to see his gums, and I am convinced he is on the point\nof something anyhow, and this I have spoken to Crean about, but he dont\nseem to realise it. But I have asked him to wait developments for a time.\nIt seems we are in for more trouble now, but lets hope for the best.\n\n _23rd January 1912._\n\nWe got away pretty well and did a good journey, having covered about 14\nmiles over a fairly good surface. We have passed the Blizzard Camp and\nglad of it too, again to-day we saw in several places where the bridges\non the crevasses had fallen through. A good job they none of them fell\nthrough when we were going over them as the width would have taken all\nthrough with them, and in every case where they had fallen through was\nwhere we had gone over, as the mark of the sledge was very distinct in\neach case. Mr. Evans seems better to-day.\n\n _24th January 1912._\n\nDid a good run to-day over a good surface. The weather have been very\nwarm, not much to write to-night as everything is going well.\n\n _25th January 1912._\n\nStarted off in very thick weather, the temperature is very high and the\nsnow is wet and clogging all day on our ski, which made dragging heavy,\nand towards evening it got worse. After lunch we got a good breeze for an\nhour, when it changed to a blizzard and almost rained. We saw the depôt\nahead sometimes, so we tried to reach it as we thought we might be in for\nanother few days like we had near the land on our outward journey. Anyhow\nwe reached it after a tremendous struggle owing to the wet and bad light.\nI took off my ski and carried them on my shoulder to finish up the last\nhalf a mile. The blizzard died down after we had camped and turned in for\nthe night. Looked at the thermometer which showed 34.\n\n _26th January 1912._\n\nThis have been a most wonderful day for surface. This morning when we\nstarted the thermometer stood at 34, much too high for sledging. We were\non ski or we might have been on stilts for the amount of snow clogging on\nour ski, dont know how we should have got on without our ski, as the snow\nwas so very soft we sank right in when we tried to go on foot, but we\nwere fortunate to get the wind behind us and able to make use of the\nsail. We made a very good day of it, did 13 miles: 8 of this after lunch.\nI did not feel well outside the tent this morning. I came over quite\ngiddy and faint, but it passed off quickly and have felt no more of it\nall day.\n\n _27th January 1912._\n\nWe had a good run to-day with the sail up. It only required one of us to\nkeep it straight, no need whatever to pull, but it was very hot, anyone\ncould take off all their clothes and march. It is really too hot for this\npart of the world, but I daresay we shall soon get it a bit colder. Did\n14½ miles, it is nice to be able to see the tracks and cairns of our\noutward journey. We feel satisfied when we have done a good day and in\ngood time. Mr. Evans is now suffering from looseness of the bowels. Crean\nhad a touch of it a few days ago, but he is quite alright again.\n\n _28th January 1912._\n\nTo-day it have been a very heavy drag. The snow is still very soft and\nthe sun very hot, it fairly scorches anyone's face. We are almost black\nnow and our hair is long and getting white through being exposed to the\nlight, it gets bleached. I am glad to say it is cooler to-night,\ngenerally. We got over 12½ miles again to-day. Mr. Evans is still very\nloose in his bowels. This, of course, hinders us, as we have had to stop\nseveral times. Only another few more Sundays and we hope to be safely\nhoused at Hut Point, or Cape Evans. We have now been out 97 days.\n\n _29th January 1912._\n\nAnother good day was helped by the sail all day. One man could again\nmanage for about two hours. The weather is still very warm, plus 20\nagain. Did 16½ miles, only 14 to the next depôt. Mr. Evans is still\nsuffering from the same complaint: have come to the conclusion to stop\nhis pemmican, as I feel that it have got something to do with him being\nout of sorts. Anyhow we are going to try it. Gave him a little brandy and\nhe is taking some chalk and opium pills to try and stop it. His legs are\ngetting worse and we are quite certain he is suffering from scurvy, at\nleast he is turning black and blue and several other colours as well.\n\n _30th January 1912._\n\nVery bad light but fair wind, picked up the depôt this evening. Did the\n14 miles quite in good time, after taking our food we found a shortage of\noil and have taken what we think will take us to the next depôt. There\nseems to have been some leakage in the one can, but how we could not\naccount for that we have left a note telling Capt. Scott how we found it,\nbut they will have sufficient to carry them on to the next depôt, but we\nall know the amount of oil allowed on the Journey is enough, but if any\nwaste takes place it means extra precautions in the handling of it. Mr.\nEvans is still without pemmican and seems to have somewhat recovered from\nthe looseness, but things are not by a long way with him as they should\nbe. Only two more depôts now to pick up.\n\n _31st January 1912._\n\nAnother very good run to-day but the light being very bad we had to\ncontinually stop and steer by compass. This a difficult task, especially\nas there was no wind to help keep on the course, but it have cleared\nagain to-night, the temperature is plus 20 in the day and 10 at night\njust now. Did 13 miles. Mr. Evans is allowed a little pemmican as the\nwork is hard and it wants a little warm food to put life into anyone in\nthis part of the world.\n\n\n _1st February 1912._\n\nWe had a very fine day but a very heavy pull, but we did 13 miles. Mr.\nEvans and myself have been out 100 days to-day. I have had to change my\nshirt again. This is the last clean side I have got. I have been wearing\ntwo shirts and each side will now have done duty next the skin, as I have\nchanged round each month, and I have certainly found the benefit of it,\nand on the point we all three agree. Mr. Evans is still gradually worse:\nit is no good closing our eyes to the fact. We must push on as we have a\nlong way to go yet.\n\n _2nd February 1912._\n\nA very bad light again to-day: could not make much progress, only did 11\nmiles, but we must think ourselves lucky we have not had to lay up and\nget delayed, but we have had the wind and more behind us, otherwise we\nshould have had to stop. Mr. Evans is no better but seems to be in great\npain, but he keeps quite cheerful we are pleased to say.\n\n _3rd February 1912._\n\nThis morning we were forced to put Mr. Evans on his ski and strap him on,\nas he could not lift his legs. I looked at them again and found they are\nrapidly getting worse, things are looking serious on his part, but we\nhave been trying to pump him up he will get through alright, but he\nbegins to think different himself, but if we get to One Ton and can get a\nchange of food it may relieve him. He is a brick, there is plenty of\npluck: one cannot but admire such pluck. The light have been dreadful all\nday and I seemed to have got a bit depressed at times, not being able to\nsee anything to know where I was on the course or not and not getting a\nword from Mr. Evans. I deliberately went off the course to see if anyone\nwas taking notice but to my surprise I was quickly told I was off the\ncourse. This I thought, but wanted to know if he was looking out, which\nhe was. It came on to bliz after we camped, we ought to reach Mt. Hooper\nto-morrow night.\n\n _4th February 1912._\n\nStarted in splendid weather, but the surface was bad and dragging was\nvery heavy, but it improved as the day went on, and we arrived at the\ndepôt at 7.40 P.M. We are now 180 miles from Hut Point, and this Sunday\nnight we hope to be only two more Sundays on the Barrier. No improvement\nin Mr. Evans, much worse. We have taken out our food and left nearly all\nthe pemmican as we dont require it on account of none of us caring for\nit, therefore we are leaving it behind for the others. They may require\nit. We have left our note and wished them every success on their way, but\nwe have decided it is best not to say anything about Mr. Evans being ill\nor suffering from scurvy. This old cairn have stood the weather and is\nstill a huge thing.\n\n _5th February 1912._\n\nHad a very fine day and a good light all day, which makes things much\nmore cheerful. Did not get away before 9 o'clock but we did 11½ miles, it\nis gradually getting colder. Mr. Evans is still getting worse, to-day he\nis suffering from looseness in the bowels: shall have to stop his\npemmican.\n\n _6th February 1912._\n\nAnother fine day but sun was very hot and caused us to sweat a good deal,\nbut we dont mind as we are pretty used to such changes. We shall soon be\nlooking for land ahead, which will be Mt. Discovery or Mt. Erebus, we\nhave 155 miles to go to Hut Point: done alright again 13½ miles, we do\nwonderfully well especially as Mr. Evans have got to go very slowly first\noff after stopping until he gets the stiffness out of his legs, but he is\nsuffering a good deal and in silence, he never complains, but he dont get\nmuch sleep. We shall all be glad when we arrive at One Ton, where there\nis a change of food for us all. The pemmican is too much, especially when\nthe weather is warm.\n\n _7th February 1912._\n\nA very fine day but heavy going. We are bringing the land in sight. The\nday have been simply lovely, did 12 miles. No better luck with our\npatient, he gets along without a murmur. We have got to help him in and\nout of the tent, but we have consulted on the matter and he is determined\nto go to the last, which we know is not far off, as it is difficult for\nhim to stand, but he is the essence of a brick to keep it up, but we\nshall have to drag him on the sledge when he cant go any further.\n\n _8th February 1912._\n\nTo-day have been very favourable and fine, we had a good breeze and set\nsail after lunch. If we get a good day to-morrow we hope to reach One\nTon. Mr. Evans have passed a good deal of blood to-day, which makes\nthings look a lot worse. I have to do nearly everything for him now.\n\n _9th February 1912._\n\nA very fine day and quite warm. Reached the depôt at 5.5 P.M. and we all\nhad a good feed of oatmeal. Oh, what a God-send to get a change of food!\nWe have taken enough food for 9 days, which if we still keep up our\npresent rate of progress it ought to take us in to Hut Point. We cannot\ntake too heavy a load, as there is only the two of us pulling now, and\nthis our last port of call before we reach Hut Point, but things are not\nlooking any too favourable for us, as our leader is gradually getting\nlower every day. It is almost impossible for him to get along, and we\nare still 120 miles from Hut Point.\n\n _10th February 1912._\n\nWe did a good march, in very thick weather. To-night we are camped and I\nam sorry to say Mr. Evans is in a very bad state. If this is scurvy I am\nsorry for anyone it attacks. We shall do our utmost to get him back\nalive, although he is so ill, he is very cheerful, which is very good and\ntries to do anything to help us along. We are thinking the food, now we\nhave got a change, may improve things. I am very pleased to say Crean and\nmyself are in the best of health, which we are thankful for.\n\n _11th February 1912._\n\nTo-day we built a cairn and left all our gear we could do without, as it\nis impossible for us to drag the load now, and Mr. Evans we think is\ndoing well as long as he can keep on his legs. We have had a very bad\nlight all day, and to-night we have a bliz on us, so we had to camp\nearly. Our day's run has been 11 miles. We are now about 99 miles from\nour base.\n\n _12th February 1912._\n\nWe did not get away until 10 o'clock on account of bad weather, but after\nwe put Mr. Evans on his ski he went on slowly. It is against our wish to\nhave to send him on a little in advance, but it is best as we shall have\nto drag him out of this we are certain. He has fainted on two or three\noccasions, but after a drop of brandy he has been able to proceed, but it\nis very awkward, especially as the temperature is so low. We are afraid\nof his getting frost-bitten. Our progress is very slow, the light is very\nbad, and it is seldom we see the land.\n\n _13th February 1912._\n\nWe got away in good time, but progress was slow, and Mr. Evans could not\ngo, and we consulted awhile and came to the conclusion it would be best\nto put him on the sledge, otherwise he may not pull through, so we\nstopped and camped, and decided to drop everything we can possibly do\nwithout, so we have only got our sleeping bags, cooker, and what little\nfood and oil we have left. Our load is not much, but Mr. Evans on the\nsledge makes it pretty heavy work for us both, but he says he is\ncomfortable now. This morning he wished us to leave him, but this we\ncould not think of. We shall stand by him to the end one way or other, so\nwe are the masters to-day. He has got to do as we wish and we hope to\npull him through. This morning when we depôted all our gear I changed my\nsocks and got my foot badly frostbitten, and the only way was to fetch it\nround. So although Mr. Evans was so bad he proposed to stuff it on his\nstomach to try and get it right again. I did not like to risk such a\nthing as he is certainly very weak, but we tried it, and it succeeded in\nbringing it round, thanks to his thoughtfulness, and I shall never forget\nthe kindness bestowed on me at a critical time in our travels, but I\nthink we could go to any length of trouble to assist one another; in such\ntime and such a place we must trust in a higher power to pull us through.\nWhen we pack up now and have to move off we have to get everything ready\nbefore we attempt to move the tent, as it is impossible for our leader\nnow to stand, therefore it is necessary to get him ready before we start.\nWe then pull the sledge alongside his bag and lift him on to it and strap\nhim on. It is a painful piece of work and he takes it pretty well, but we\ncan't help hurting him, as it is very awkward to lift him, the snow being\nsoft and the light so bad, but he dont complain. The only thing we hear\nhim grind his teeth.\n\n _14th February 1912._\n\nAnother good start after the usual preparation, we have not got much to\npack, but it takes us some time, to get our invalid ready, the surface is\nvery bad and our progress is very slow, but we have proposed to go longer\nhours and try to cover the distance, that is if we can stick it\nourselves.\n\n _15th February 1912._\n\nWe started in fine weather this morning, but it soon came over thick and\nprogress became slow. We had to continually consult the compass, as we\nhave had no wind to assist us, but after awhile the sun peeped out and\nthe wind sprang up and we were able to set sail, which helped us put in\na good march.\n\n _16th February 1912._\n\nTo-day it have been a very heavy drag all day, and the light is very bad,\nbut we had the pleasure of seeing Castle Rock and Observation Hill. We\nuncovered Mr. Evans to let him have a look and we have reduced our ration\nnow to one half as it is impossible for us to reach Hut Point under four\ndays, that is if everything goes favourable with us.\n\n _17th February 1912._\n\nTo-day it has been thick, this morning soon after we started we saw what\nwe thought was the dog tent [the two dog-teams going out to meet the\nPolar Party], a thing we had been looking for to try and get relief, but\nwhen we came up to it we found it was only a piece of biscuit box stuck\non an old camp for a guide. It shows how deceiving the things here are. I\ncan tell you our hopes were raised, but on reaching it they dropped again\nconsiderably. We were able to see the land occasionally, and during one\nof the breaks this afternoon we spotted the motor. Oh, what joy! We again\nuncovered Mr. Evans to let him have a look and after trudging along for\nanother three hours we brought up alongside it and camped for the night.\nWe are now only a little over 30 miles from Hut Point: if we could only\nsee the dogs approaching us, but they, we think, may have passed us while\nthe weather have been thick. Mr. Evans is getting worse every day, we are\nalmost afraid to sleep at night as he seems very weak. If the temperature\ngoes much lower it will be a job to keep him warm. We have found some\nbiscuits here at the motor but nothing else, but that will assist greatly\non our way. The slogging have been heavy all day. We are pretty tired\nto-night. I dont think we have got the go in us we had, but we must try\nand push on.\n\n _18th February 1912._\n\nI started to move Mr. Evans this morning, but he completely collapsed and\nfainted away. Crean was very upset and almost cried, but I told him it\nwas no good to create a scene but put up a bold front and try to assist.\nI really think he thought Mr. Evans had gone, but we managed to pull him\nthrough. We used the last drop of brandy. After awhile we got him on the\nsledge and proceeded as usual, but finding the surface very bad and we\nwere unable to make less than a mile an hour, we stopped and decided to\ncamp. We told Mr. Evans of our plans, which were: Crean should proceed,\nit being a splendid day, on foot to Hut Point to obtain relief if\npossible. This we had agreed to between ourselves. I offered to do the\nJourney and Crean remain behind, but Tom said he would much rather I\nstayed with the invalid and look after him, so I thought it best I should\nremain, and these plans were agreed to by all of us, so after we had\ncamped the next thing was the food problem. We had about a day's\nprovisions with extra biscuit taken from the motor, and a little extra\noil taken from the same place, so we gave Crean what he thought he could\nmanage to accomplish the Journey of 30 miles geographical on, which was a\nlittle chocolate and biscuits. We put him up a little drink, but he would\nnot carry it. What a pity we did not have some ski, but we dumped them to\nsave weight. So Crean sailed away in splendid weather for a try to bring\nrelief. I was in a bit of a sweat all day and remained up to watch the\nweather till long after midnight. I was afraid of the weather, but it\nkept clear and I thought he might have reached or got within easy\ndistance of Hut Point; but there was the possibility of his dropping down\na crevasse, but that we had to leave to chance, but none the more it was\nanxious moments as if it comes on to drift the weather is very\ntreacherous in these parts. After Crean left I left Mr. Evans and\nproceeded to Corner Camp which was about a mile away, to see if there was\nany provisions left there that would be of use to us. I found a little\nbutter, a little cheese, and a little treacle that had been brought there\nfor the ponies. I also went back to the motor and got a little more oil\nwhile the weather was fine. I also got a large piece of burbery and tied\non a long bamboo and stuck up a big flag on our sledge so that anyone\ncould not pass our way without seeing us or our flag. I found a note left\nat Corner Camp by Mr. Day saying there was a lot of very bad crevasses\nbetween there and the sea ice, especially off White Island. This put me\nin a bit of a fix, as I, of course, at once thought of Crean. He being on\nfoot was more likely to go down than he would had he been on ski. I did\nnot tell Mr. Evans anything about the crevasses, as I certainly thought\nit would be best kept from him. I just told him the note was there and\nall was well.\n\n _19th February 1912._\n\nTo-day Mr. Evans seems a bit better and more cheerful, the rest will do\nhim good and assist in getting a little strength. We have been wondering\nwhen relief will reach us, but we cannot expect it for at least a day or\ntwo yet at the earliest. It was very thick this morning and also very\ncold. The temperature is dropping rapidly. Our tent was all covered in\nfrost rime to-day, a sure sign of colder weather. It was very thick this\nmorning but cleared as the day advanced, but we could not see Hut Point.\nI wonder if poor old Tom reached alright. We have very little food now\nexcept biscuit, but oil is better. We have got ½ gallon and if relief\ndont come for some time we shall be able to have hot water when all other\nthings are gone. I have thought out a plan for the future, in case of no\nrelief coming, but of course we took all things into consideration in\ncase of failure, but we must hope for the best. Of course I know it is no\nuse thinking of Mr. Evans being able to move any further as he cant stand\nat all, the only thing is, we may have missed the dogs, if so there is\nstill a chance of someone being at Hut Point. I am cold now and cannot\nwrite more to-night. We lose the sun at midnight now. If all had went\nwell we should have been home by now.\n\n _20th February 1912._\n\nTuesday not a nice day. A low drift all the morning and increased to a\nblizzard at times. Have had to remain in the tent all day to try and keep\nwarm. Have not got much food except biscuits. Mr. Evans is about the same\nbut quite cheerful. We have had whole journey over and over: it have\npassed these three days away. We have wondered how they are getting on\nbehind us; we have worked it out and they ought to be on the Barrier now,\nwith anything of luck. We have been gambling on the condition of the ice\nand the possibility of the open water at Hut Point at any time now, and\nalso about what news of home, although home is one of the foremost\nthoughts we hardly ever mention it, only what we are going to have to eat\nwhen we do arrive there. I think we have got everything that is good down\non our list. Of course New Zealand have got to be answerable for a good\ndeal: plenty of apples we are going to have and some nice home-made cake,\nnot too rich, as we think we can eat more. I wonder if the mules will\nhave arrived, as I am to look after them till Capt. Oates returns, as\nAnton will be gone home, or at least going soon. We shall have to hurry\nup as the ship is to leave again on the 2nd of March, as it is not safe\nto remain longer in these regions. I am now too cold to write, and I dont\nseem settled at all and the weather is still pretty bad outside, so we\nare not going to look for anything to come along to-night. \"Hark!\" from\nus both. \"Yes, it is the dogs near. Relief at last. Who is there?\" I did\nnot stay to think more before I was outside the tent. \"Yes, sir, it is\nalright.\" The Doctor and Dimitri. \"How did you see us?\" \"The flag Lash,\"\nsays Dimitri. The Doctor, \"How is Mr. Evans?\" \"Alright, but low.\" But\nthis had a good effect on him. After the first few minutes we got their\ntent pitched and the food they brought us I was soon on the way preparing\na meal for us all, but Mr. Evans cannot have pemmican, but the Doctor\nhave brought everything that will do him good, some onions to boil and\nseveral other things. Dimitri brought along a good lump of cake: we are\nin clover. To-night after the Doctor had examined my patient and we got\nthrough a good deal of talk about everything we could think of,\nespecially home news and the return parties and the ship and those in\nher. We were sorry to hear she had not been able to get very near, and\nthat the mules had arrived, and I dont know what, we now settled down for\na good night. It seems to me we are in a new world, a weight is off my\nmind and I can once more see a bright spot in the sky for us all, the\ngloom is now removed. The bliz is bad outside, and Doctor and Dimitri is\ngone and turned in, so will [I] once more, but sleep is out of the\nquestion.\n\n _21st February 1912._\n\nThe day have been very bad and we are obliged to remain until it clears.\nWe are going to move off as soon as it clears, the day have been very\ncold, so we have had to remain in our bags, but things are alright and we\nhave got plenty to eat now. We have all retired for the night as the bliz\nis still raging outside.\n\n _22nd February 1912._\n\nThe wind went down about 9 P.M., so we began to move and were ready to\nkick off at 10, and proposed to do the journey in two stages. It was\nfearful heavy going for the poor dogs, we arranged so that Mr. Evans was\non Dimitri's sledge and Doctor and myself was on the other. We have done\nabout half the journey and are now camped for a rest for the dogs and\nourselves. We had a stiff 16 miles: the Doctor and myself, we took turns\nin riding on the sledge and walking and running to keep up to the dogs.\nSometimes we sank in up to the knees, but we struggled through it. My\nlegs is the most powerful part of me now, but I am tired and shall be\nglad when it is over. I must lie down now, as we are starting again soon\nfor Hut Point, but the surface is getting better as we have passed White\nIsland and can see so plainly the land. Castle Rock and good old Erebus\nlook so stately with the smoke rolling out. It is so clear and calm and\npeaceful. What a change in our surroundings of a few days ago and also\nour prospects. Doctor and Dimitri have done everything they could for us.\n\n _22nd February 1912._\n\nWe started off after a rest for the dogs and reached here at Hut Point at\n1 P.M. where we can rest in peace for a time. Dimitri and Crean are going\nto Cape Evans: the ship is nowhere in sight. Have had to get some seal\nmeat and ice and prepare a meal. Mr. Evans is alright and asleep. We are\nlooking for a mail now. How funny we should always be looking for\nsomething else, now we are safe.\n\n[End of Lashly's Diary.]\n\n * * * * *\n\nCrean has told me the story of his walk as follows:\n\nHe started at 10 on Sunday morning and \"the surface was good, very good\nsurface indeed,\" and he went about sixteen miles before he stopped. Good\nclear weather. He had three biscuits and two sticks of chocolate. He\nstopped about five minutes, sitting on the snow, and ate two biscuits and\nthe chocolate, and put one biscuit back in his pocket. He was quite warm\nand not sleepy.\n\nHe carried on just the same and passed Safety Camp on his right some five\nhours later, and thinks it was about twelve-thirty on Monday morning that\nhe reached the edge of the Barrier, tired, getting cold in the back and\nthe weather coming on thick. It was bright behind him but it was coming\nover the Bluff, and White Island was obscured though he could still see\nCape Armitage and Castle Rock. He slipped a lot on the sea-ice, having\nseveral falls on to his back and it was getting thicker all the time. At\nthe Barrier edge there was a light wind, now it was blowing a strong\nwind, drifting and snowing. He made for the Gap and could not get up at\nfirst. To avoid taking a lot out of himself he started to go round Cape\nArmitage; but soon felt slush coming through his finnesko (he had no\ncrampons) and made back for the Gap. He climbed up to the left of the Gap\nand climbed along the side of Observation Hill to avoid the slippery ice.\nWhen he got to the top it was still clear enough to see vaguely the\noutline of Hut Point, but he could see no sledges nor dogs. He sat down\nunder the lee of Observation Hill, and finished his biscuit with a bit of\nice: \"I was very dry,\"--slid down the side of Observation Hill and\nthought at this time there was open water below, for he had no goggles on\nthe march and his eyes were strained. But on getting near the ice-foot he\nfound it was polished sea-ice and made his way round to the hut under the\nice-foot. When he got close he saw the dogs and sledges on the sea-ice,\nand it was now blowing very hard with drift. He walked in and found the\nDoctor and Dimitri inside. \"He gave me a tot first, and then a feed of\nporridge--but I couldn't keep it down: thats the first time in my life\nthat ever it happened, and it was the brandy that did it.\"\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n [253] See pp. 382, 383, 410, 412.\n\n [254] My own diary, December 22, 1911.\n\n [255] My own diary.\n\n [256] My own diary.\n\n [257] See p. 412.\n\n [258] See p. 335.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\nSUSPENSE\n\n All the past we leave behind;\n We debouch upon a newer, mightier world, varied world;\n Fresh and strong the world we seize, world of labour and the march,\n Pioneers! O pioneers!\n\n We detachments steady throwing,\n Down the edges, through the passes, up the mountains steep,\n Conquering, holding, daring, venturing, as we go, the unknown ways,\n Pioneers! O pioneers!\n\n WALT WHITMAN.\n\n\nLet us come back to Cape Evans after the return of the First Supporting\nParty.\n\nHitherto our ways had always been happy: for the most part they had been\npleasant. Scott was going to reach the Pole, probably without great\ndifficulty, for when we left him on the edge of the plateau he had only\nto average seven miles a day to go there on full rations. We ourselves\nhad averaged 14.2 geographical miles a day on our way home to One Ton\nDepôt, and there seemed no reason to suppose that the other two parties\nwould not do likewise, and the food was not only sufficient but abundant\nif such marches were made. Thus we were content as we wandered over the\ncape, or sat upon some rock warmed by the sun and watched the penguins\nbathing in the lake which had formed in the sea-ice between us and\nInaccessible Island. All round us were the cries of the skua gulls as\nthey squabbled among themselves, and we heard the swish of their wings as\nthey swooped down upon a man who wandered too near their nests. Out upon\nthe sea-ice, which was soggy and dangerous, lay several seal, and the\nbubblings and whistlings and gurglings which came from their throats\nchimed musically in contrast to the hoarse aak, aak, of the Adélie\npenguins: the tide crack was sighing and groaning all the time: it was\nvery restful after the Barrier silence.\n\nMeanwhile the Terra Nova had been seen in the distance, but the state of\nthe sea-ice prevented her approach. It was not until February 4 that\ncommunication was opened with her and we got our welcome mails and news\nof the world during the last year. We heard that Campbell's party had\nbeen picked up at Cape Adare and landed at Evans Coves. We started\nunloading on February 9, and this work was continued until February 14:\nthere was about three miles of ice between the ship and the shore and we\nwere doing more than twenty miles a day. In the case of men who had been\nsledging much, and who might be wanted to sledge again, this was a\nmistake. Latterly the ice began to break up, and the ship left on the\n15th, to pick up the Geological Party on the western side of McMurdo\nSound. But she met great obstacles, and her record near the coasts this\nyear is one of continual fights against pack-ice, while the winds\nexperienced as the season advanced were very strong. On January 13 the\nfast ice at the mouth of McMurdo Sound extended as far as the southern\nend of the Bird Peninsula: ten days later they found fast ice extending\nfor thirty miles from the head of Granite Harbour. Later in the season\nthe most determined efforts were made again and again to penetrate into\nEvans Coves in order to pick up Campbell and his men, until the ice was\nfreezing all round them, and many times the propeller was brought up dead\nagainst blocks of ice.[259]\n\nThe expedition was originally formed for two years from the date of\nleaving England. But before the ship left after landing us at Cape Evans\nin January 1911 the possibility of a third year was considered, and\ncertain requests for additional transport and orders for stores were sent\nhome. Thus it came about that the ship now landed not only new sledges\nand sledging stores but also fourteen dogs from Kamchatka and seven\nmules, with their food and equipment. The dogs were big and fat, but the\nonly ones which proved of much service for sledging were Snowy, a nice\nwhite dog, and Bullett. It was Oates' idea that mules might prove a\nbetter form of transport on the Barrier than ponies. Scott therefore\nwrote to Sir Douglas Haig, then C.-in-C. in India, that if he failed to\nreach the Pole in the summer of 1911-12, \"it is my intention to make a\nsecond attempt in the following season provided fresh transport can be\nbrought down: the circumstances making it necessary to plan to sacrifice\nthe transport animals used in any attempt.\n\n\"Before directing more ponies to be sent down I have thoroughly discussed\nthe situation with Captain Oates, and he has suggested that mules would\nbe better than ponies for our work and that trained Indian Transport\nMules would be ideal. It is evident already that our ponies have not a\nuniform walking pace and that in other small ways they will be\ntroublesome to us although they are handy little beasts.\"\n\nThe Indian Government not only sent seven mules but when they arrived we\nfound that they had been most carefully trained and equipped. In India\nthey were in the charge of Lieutenant George Pulleyn, and the care and\nthought which had been spent upon them could not have been exceeded: the\nequipment was also extremely good and well adapted to the conditions,\nwhile most of the improvements made by us as the result of a year's\nexperience were already foreseen and provided. The mules themselves, by\nname Lal Khan, Gulab, Begum, Ranee, Abdullah, Pyaree and Khan Sahib, were\nbeautiful animals.\n\nAtkinson would soon have to start on his travels again. Before we left\nScott at the top of the Beardmore he gave him orders to take the two\ndog-teams South in the event of Meares having to return home, as seemed\nlikely. This was not meant in any way to be a relief journey. Scott said\nthat he was not relying upon the dogs; and that in view of the sledging\nin the following year, the dogs were not to be risked. Although it was\nsettled that some members of the expedition would stay, while others\nreturned to New Zealand, Scott and several of his companions had left\nundecided until the last moment the question of whether they would\nthemselves remain in the South for another year. In the event of Scott\ndeciding to return home the dog-teams might make the difference between\ncatching or missing the ship. I had discussed this question with Wilson\nmore than once, and he was of opinion that the business affairs of the\nexpedition demanded Scott's return if possible: Wilson himself inclined\nto the view that he himself would stay if Scott stayed, and return if\nScott returned. I think that Oates meant to return, and am sure that\nBowers meant to stay: indeed he welcomed the idea of one more year in a\nway which I do not think was equalled by any other member of the\nexpedition. For the most part we felt that we had joined up for two\nyears, but that if there was to be a third year we would rather see the\nthing through than return home.\n\nI hope I have made clear that the primary object of this journey with the\ndog-teams was to hurry Scott and his companions home so that they might\nbe in time to catch the ship if possible, before she was compelled by the\nclose of the season to leave McMurdo Sound. Another thing which made\nScott anxious to communicate with the ship if possible before the season\nforced her to leave the Sound was his desire to send back news. From many\nremarks which he made, and also from the discussions in the hut during\nthe winter, it was obvious that he considered it was of the first\nimportance that the news of reaching the Pole, if it should be reached,\nbe communicated to the world without the delay of another year. Of course\nhe would also wish to send news of the safe return of his party to wives\nand relations as soon as possible. It is necessary to emphasize the fact\nthat the dog-teams were intended to hasten the return of the Polar Party,\nbut that they were never meant to form a relief journey.\n\nBut now Atkinson was left in a rather difficult position. I note in my\ndiary, after we had reached the hut, that \"Scott was to have sent back\ninstructions for the dog party with us, but these have, it would seem,\nbeen forgotten\"; but it may be that Scott considered that he had given\nthese instructions in a conversation he had with Atkinson at the top of\nthe Beardmore Glacier, when Scott said, \"with the depôt [of dog-food]\nwhich has been laid come as far as you can.\"\n\nAccording to the plans for the Polar Journey the food necessary to bring\nthe three advance parties of man-haulers back from One Ton Depôt to Hut\nPoint was to be taken out to One Ton during the absence of these parties.\nThis food consisted of five weekly units of what were known as XS\nrations. It was also arranged that if possible a depôt of dog-biscuit\nshould be taken out at the same time: this was the depôt referred to\nabove by Scott. In the event of the return of the dog-teams in the first\nhalf of December, which was the original plan, the five units of food and\nthe dog-biscuit would have been run out by them to One Ton. If the\ndog-teams did not return in time to do this a man-hauling party from Cape\nEvans was to take out three of the five units of food.\n\nIt has been shown that the dog-teams were taken farther on the Polar\nJourney than was originally intended,[260] indeed they were taken from\n81° 15´, where they were to have turned back, as far as 83° 35´. Nor were\nthey able to make the return journey in the fast time which had been\nexpected of them, and the dog-drivers were running very short of food and\nwere compelled to encroach to some extent upon the supplies left to\nprovide for the wants of those who were following in their tracks.[261]\nThe dog-teams did not arrive back at Cape Evans until January 4.\n\nMeanwhile a man-hauling party from Cape Evans, consisting of Day, Nelson,\nClissold and Hooper, had already, according to plan, taken out three of\nthe five XS rations for the returning parties. The weights of the\nman-hauling party did not allow for the transport of the remaining two XS\nrations, nor for any of the dog-food. Thus it was that when Atkinson came\nto make his plans to go South with the dogs he found that there was no\ndog-food south of Corner Camp, and that the rations for the return of the\nPolar Party from One Ton Depôt had still to be taken out. That is to say,\nthe depôt of dog-food spoken of by Scott did not exist. There was,\nhowever, enough food already at One Ton to allow the Polar Party to come\nin on reduced rations. This meant that what the dog-teams could do was\nlimited, and was much less than it might have been had it been possible\nto take out the depôt of dog-food to One Ton. Also the man-food for the\nPolar Party had to be added to the weights taken by the dogs.\n\nTo estimate even approximately at what date a party will reach a given\npoint after a journey of this length when the weather conditions are\nalways uncertain and the number of travelling days unknown, was a most\ndifficult task. The only guide was the average marches per diem made by\nour own return party, and the average of the second return party if it\nshould return before the dog party set out. A week one way or the other\nwas certainly not a large margin. A couple of blizzards might make this\nmuch difference.\n\nIn the plan of the Southern Journey Scott, working on Shackleton's\naverages, mentions March 27 as a possible date of return to Hut Point,\nallowing seven days in from One Ton. Whilst on the outward journey I\nheard Scott discuss the possibility of returning in April; and the Polar\nParty had enough food to allow them to do this on full rations.\n\nAtkinson and Dimitri with the two dog-teams left Cape Evans for Hut Point\non February 13 because the sea-ice, which was our only means of\ncommunication between these places, and so to the Barrier, was beginning\nto break up. Atkinson intended to leave Hut Point for the Barrier in\nabout a week's time. At 3.30 A.M. on February 19 Crean arrived with the\nastounding news that Lieutenant Evans, still alive but at his last gasp,\nwas lying out near Corner Camp, and that Lashly was nursing him; that the\nLast Supporting Party had consisted of three men only, a possibility\nwhich had never been considered; and that they had left Scott,\ntravelling rapidly and making good averages, only 148 geographical miles\nfrom the Pole. Scott was so well advanced that it seemed that he would be\nhome much earlier than had been anticipated.\n\nA blizzard which had been threatening on the Barrier, and actually\nblowing at Hut Point, during Crean's solitary journey, but which had\nlulled as he arrived, now broke with full force, and nothing could be\ndone for Evans until it took off sufficiently for the dog-teams to\ntravel. But in the meantime Crean urgently wanted food and rest and\nwarmth. As these were supplied to him Atkinson learned bit by bit the\nstory of the saving of Evans' life, told so graphically in Lashly's diary\nwhich is given in the preceding chapter, and pieced together the details\nof Crean's solitary walk of thirty-five statute miles. This effort was\nmade, it should be remembered, at the end of a journey of three and a\nhalf months, and over ground rendered especially perilous by crevasses,\nfrom which a man travelling alone had no chance of rescue in case of\naccident. Crean was walking for eighteen hours, and it was lucky for him,\nas also for his companions, that the blizzard which broke half an hour\nafter his arrival did not come a little sooner, for no power on earth\ncould have saved him then, and the news of Evans' plight would not have\nbeen brought.\n\nThe blizzard raged all that day, and the next night and morning, and\nnothing could be done. But during the afternoon of the 20th the\nconditions improved, and at 4.30 P.M. Atkinson and Dimitri started with\nthe two dog-teams, though it was still blowing hard and very thick. They\ntravelled, with one rest for the dogs, until 4.30 P.M. the next day, but\nhad a very hazy idea where they were most of the time, owing to the vile\nweather: once at any rate they seem to have got right in under White\nIsland. When they camped the second time they thought they were in the\nneighbourhood of Lashly's tent, and in a temporary clearance they saw the\nflag which Lashly had put up on the sledge. Evans was still alive, and\nAtkinson was able to give him immediately the fresh vegetables, fruit,\nand seal meat which his body wanted. Atkinson has never been able to\nexpress adequately the admiration he feels for Lashly's care and\nnursing.\n\nAll that night and the next day the blizzard continued and made a start\nimpossible, and it was not until 3 A.M. on the morning of the 22nd that\nthey could start for Hut Point, Evans being carried in his sleeping-bag\non the sledge. Lashly has told how they got home.\n\nAt Cape Evans we knew nothing of these events, which had made\nreorganization inevitable. It was clear that Atkinson, being the only\ndoctor available, would have to stay with Evans, who was very seriously\nill: indeed Atkinson told me that another day, or at the most two, would\nhave finished him. In fact he says that when he first saw him he thought\nhe must die. It was a considerable surprise then when Dimitri with Crean\nand one dog-team reached Cape Evans about mid-day on February 23 with a\nnote from Atkinson, who said that he thought he had better stay with\nLieutenant Evans and that some one else should take out the dogs. He\nsuggested that Wright or myself should take them. This was our first\nintimation that the dogs had not already gone South.\n\nWright and I started for Hut Point by 2 P.M. the same day and on our\narrival it was decided by Atkinson that I was to take out the dogs. Owing\nto the early departure of our meteorologist, Simpson, Wright, who had\nspecial qualifications for this important work, was to remain at Cape\nEvans. Dimitri having rested his dog-team overnight at Cape Evans arrived\nat Hut Point on the morning of the 24th.\n\nNow the daily distance which every 4-man party had to average from Hut\nPoint to its turning-point and back to Hut Point, so as to be on full\nrations all the way, was only 8.4 geographical miles. From Hut Point to\nthe latitude in which he was last seen, 87° 32´ S., Scott had averaged\nmore than ten geographical miles a day.\n\nTaking into consideration the advanced latitude, 87° 32´ S., at which the\nSecond Return Party had left Scott, and the extremely good daily averages\nthese two parties had marched on the plateau up to this point, namely\n12.3 geographical miles a day; seeing also that the First Return Party\nhad averaged 14.2 geographical miles on their return from 85° 3´ S. to\nOne Ton Depôt; and the Second Return Party had averaged 11.2 geographical\nmiles on their return from 87° 32´ S. to the same place, although one of\nthe three men was seriously ill; it was supposed that all the previous\nestimates made for the return of the Polar Party were too late, and that\nthe opportunity to reach One Ton Camp before them had been lost.\nMeanwhile the full rations for their return over the 140 miles (statute)\nfrom One Ton to Hut Point were still at Hut Point.\n\nMy orders were given me by Atkinson, and were verbal, as follows:\n\n 1. To take 24 days' food for the two men, and 21\n days' food for the two dog-teams, together with the food\n for the Polar Party.\n\n 2. To travel to One Ton Depôt as fast as possible and\n leave the food there.\n\n 3. If Scott had not arrived at One Ton Depôt before\n me I was to judge what to do.\n\n 4. That Scott was not in any way dependent on the\n dogs for his return.\n\n 5. That Scott had given particular instructions that the\n dogs were not to be risked in view of the sledging plans\n for next season.\n\nSince it had proved impossible to take the depôt of dog-food, together\nwith the full Polar Party rations, to One Ton before this; considering\nthe unforeseen circumstances which had arisen; and seeing that this\njourney of the dog-teams was not indispensable, being simply meant to\nbring the last party home more speedily, I do not believe that better\ninstructions could have been given than these of Atkinson.\n\nI was eager to start as soon as the team which had come back from Cape\nEvans was rested, but a blizzard prevented this. On the morning of the\n25th it was thick as a hedge, but it cleared enough to pack sledges in\nthe afternoon, and when we turned into our bags we could see Observation\nHill. We started at 2 A.M. that night.\n\nI confess I had my misgivings. I had never driven one dog, let alone a\nteam of them; I knew nothing of navigation; and One Ton was a hundred and\nthirty miles away, out in the middle of the Barrier and away from\nlandmarks. And so as we pushed our way out through the wind and drift\nthat night I felt there was a good deal to be hoped for, rather than to\nbe expected. But we got along very well, Dimitri driving his team in\nfront, as he did most of this journey, and picking up marks very\nhelpfully with his sharp eyes. In the low temperatures we met, the\nglasses which I must wear are almost impossible, because of fogging. We\ntook three boxes of dog-biscuit from Safety Camp and another three boxes\nfrom a point sixteen miles from Hut Point. Here we rested the dogs for a\nfew hours, and started again at 6 P.M. All day the light was appalling,\nand the wind strong, but to my great relief we found Corner Camp after\nfour hours' more travelling, the flag showing plainly, though the cairn\nitself was invisible when a hundred yards away. This was the last place\nwhere there was any dog-food on the route, and the dogs got a good feed\nafter doing thirty-four miles (statute) for the day's run. This was more\nthan we had hoped: the only disquieting fact was that both the\nsledge-meters which we had were working wrong: the better of the two\nseemed however to be marking the total mileage fairly correctly at\npresent, though the hands which indicated more detailed information were\nquite at sea. We had no minimum thermometer, but the present temperature\nwas -4°.\n\n\"_February 27._ Mount Terror has proved our friend to-day, for the slope\njust above the Knoll has remained clear when everything else was covered,\nand we have steered by that--behind us. It seemed, when we started in low\ndrift, that we should pick up nothing, but by good luck, or good I don't\nknow what, we have got everything: first the motor, then pony walls at 10\nmiles, where we stopped and had a cup of tea. I wanted to do 15 miles,\nbut we have done 18½ miles on the best running surface I have ever seen.\nAfter lunch we got a cairn which we could not see twenty yards away after\nwe had reached it, but which we could see for a long way on the southern\nhorizon, against a thin strip of blue sky. We camped just in time to get\nthe tent pitched before a line of drift we saw coming out of the sky hit\nus. It is now blowing a mild blizzard and drifting. Forty-eight miles in\ntwo days is more than I expected: may our luck continue. Dogs pulling\nvery fit and not done up.\n\n\"_February 28._ I had my first upset just after starting, the sledge\ncapsizing on a great sastrugus like the Ramp. Dimitri was a long way\nahead and all behind was very thick. I had to unload the sledge for I\ncould not right it alone. Just as I righted it the team took charge. I\nmissed the driving-stick but got on to the sledge with no hope of\nstopping them, and I was carried a mile to the south, leaving four boxes\nof dog-food, the weekly bag, cooker, and tent poles on the ground. The\nteam stopped when they reached Dimitri's team, and by then the gear was\nout of sight. We went back for it, and made good 16¾ miles for the day on\na splendid surface. The sun went down at 11.15 (10.15 A.T.), miraged\nquite flat on top. After he had gone down a great bonfire seemed to blaze\nout from the horizon. Now -22° and we use a candle for the first time.\n\n\"_February 29. Bluff Depôt._ If anybody had told me we could reach Bluff\nDepôt, nearly ninety miles, in four days, I would not have believed it.\nWe have had a good clear day with much mirage. Dogs a bit tired.\"[262]\n\nThe next three days' run took us to One Ton. On the day we left Bluff\nDepôt, which had been made a little more than a year ago, when certain of\nthe ponies were sent home on the Depôt Journey,[263] but which no longer\ncontained any provisions, we travelled 12 miles; there was a good light\nand it was as warm as could be expected in March. The next day (March 2)\nwe did 9 miles after a cold and sleepless night, -24° and a mild blizzard\nfrom N.W. and quite thick. On the night of March 3 we reached One Ton,\nheading into a strongish wind with a temperature of -24°. These were the\nfirst two days on which we had cold weather, but it was nothing to worry\nabout for us, and was certainly not colder than one could ordinarily have\nexpected at this time of year.\n\nArrived at One Ton my first feeling was one of relief that the Polar\nParty had not been to the Depôt and that therefore we had got their\nprovisions out in time. The question of what we were to do in the\nimmediate future was settled for us; for four days out of the six during\nwhich we were at One Ton the weather made travelling southwards, that is\nagainst the wind, either entirely impossible or such that the chance of\nseeing another party at any distance was nil. On the two remaining days I\ncould have run a day farther South and back again, with the possibility\nof missing the party on the way. I decided to remain at the Depôt where\nwe were certain to meet.\n\nOn the day after we arrived at One Ton (March 4) Dimitri came to me and\nsaid that the dogs ought to be given more food, since they were getting\ndone and were losing their coats: they had, of course, done a great deal\nof sledging already this year. Dimitri had long experience of dog-driving\nand I had none. I thought and I still think he was right. I increased the\ndog ration therefore, and this left us with thirteen more days' dog-food,\nincluding that for March 4.\n\nThe weather was bad when we were at One Ton, for when it was blowing the\ntemperature often remained comparatively low, and when it was not blowing\nit dropped considerably, and I find readings in my diary of -34° and -37°\nat 8 P.M. Having no minimum thermometer we did not know the night\ntemperatures. On the other hand I find an entry: \"To-day is the first\nreal good one we have had, only about -10° and the sun shining,--and we\nhave shifted the tent, dried our bags and gear a lot, and been pottering\nabout all day.\" At this time, however, when we were at One Ton I looked\nupon these conditions as being a temporary cold snap: there was no reason\nthen to suppose these were normal March conditions in the middle of the\nBarrier, where no one had ever been at this time of year. I believe now\nthey are normal: on the other hand, in our meteorological report Simpson\nargues that they were abnormal for the Barrier at this time of year.[264]\n\nSince there was no depôt of dog-food at One Ton it was not possible to go\nfarther South (except for the one day mentioned above) without killing\ndogs. My orders on this point were perfectly explicit; I saw no reason\nfor disobeying them, and indeed it appeared that we had been wrong to\nhurry out so soon, before the time that Scott had reckoned that he would\nreturn, and that the Polar Party would really come in at the time Scott\nhad calculated before starting rather than at the time we had reckoned\nfrom the data brought back by the Last Return Party.\n\nFrom the particulars already given it will be seen that I had no reason\nto suspect that the Polar Party could be in want of food. The Polar Party\nof five men had according to our rations plenty of food either on their\nsledge or in the depôts. In addition they had a lot of pony meat depôted\nat Middle Glacier Depôt and onwards from there. Though we did not know\nit, the death of Evans at the foot of the Beardmore Glacier provided an\nadditional amount of food for the four men who were then left. The full\namount of oil for this food had been left in the depôts; but we know now\nwhat we did not know then, that some of it had evaporated. These matters\nare discussed in greater detail in the account of the return of the Polar\nParty and after.[265]\n\nThus I felt little anxiety for the Polar Party. But I was getting anxious\nabout my companion. Soon after arrival at One Ton it was clear that\nDimitri was feeling the cold. He complained of his head; then his right\narm and side were affected; and from this time onwards he found that he\ncould do less and less with his right side. Still I did not worry much\nabout it, and my decision as to our movements was not affected by this\ncomplication. I decided to allow eight days' food for our return, which\nmeant that we must start on March 10.\n\n\"_March 10._ Pretty cold night: -33° when we turned out at 8 A.M.\nGetting our gear together, and the dogs more or less into order after\ntheir six days was cold work, and we started in minus thirties and a head\nwind. The dogs were mad,--stark, staring lunatics. Dimitri's team wrecked\nmy sledge-meter, and I left it lying on the ground a mile from One Ton.\nAll we could do was to hang on to the sledge and let them go: there\nwasn't a chance to go back, turn them or steer them. Dimitri broke his\ndriving-stick: my team fought as they went: once I was dragged with my\nfoot pinned under my driving-stick, which was itself jammed in the\ngrummet: several times I only managed to catch on anywhere: this went on\nfor six or seven miles, and then they got better.\"[266]\n\nOur remaining sledge-meter was quite unreliable, but following our\noutward tracks (for it became thick and overcast), and judging by our old\ncamping sites, we reckoned that we had done an excellent run of 23 to 24\nmiles (statute) for the day. The temperature when we camped was only\n-14°. However it became much colder in the night, and when we turned out\nit was so thick that I decided we must wait. At 2 P.M. on March 11 there\nwas one small patch of blue sky showing, and we started to steer by this:\nsoon it was blowing a mild blizzard, and we stopped after doing what I\nreckoned was eight miles, steering by trying to keep the wind on my ear:\nbut I think we were turning circles much of the time. It blew hard and\nwas very cold during the night, and we turned out on the morning of March\n12 to a blizzard with a temperature of -33°: this gradually took off, and\nat 10 A.M. Dimitri said he could see the Bluff, and we were right into\nthe land, and therefore the pressure. This was startling, but later it\ncleared enough to reassure me, though Dimitri was so certain that during\nthe first part of our run that day I steered east a lot. We did 25 to 30\nmiles this day in drift and a temperature of -28°.\n\nBy now I was becoming really alarmed and anxious about Dimitri, who\nseemed to be getting much worse, and to be able to do less and less.\nSitting on a sledge the next day with a head wind and the temperature\n-30° was cold. The land was clear when we turned out and I could see that\nwe must be far outside our course, but almost immediately it became\nfoggy. We made in towards the land a good deal, and made a good run, but\nowing to the sledge-meter being useless and the bad weather generally\nduring the last few days, I had a very hazy idea indeed where we were\nwhen we camped, having been steering for some time by the faint gleam of\nthe sun through the mist. Just after camping Dimitri suddenly pointed to\na black spot which seemed to wave to and fro: we decided that it was the\nflag of the derelict motor near Corner Camp which up to that time I\nthought was ten to fifteen miles away: this was a great relief, and we\ndebated packing up again and going to it, but decided to stay where we\nwere.\n\nIt was fairly clear on the morning of March 14, which was lucky, for it\nwas now obvious that we were miles from Corner Camp and much too near the\nland. The flag we had seen must have been a miraged piece of pressure,\nand it was providential that we had not made for it, and found worse\ntrouble than we actually experienced. Try all I could that morning, my\nteam, which was leading, insisted on edging westwards. At last I saw what\nI thought was a cairn, but found out just in time that it was a haycock\nor mound of ice formed by pressure: by its side was a large open\ncrevasse, of which about fifty yards of snow-bridge had fallen in. For\nseveral miles we knew that we were crossing big crevasses by the hollow\nsound, and it was with considerable relief that I sighted the motor and\nthen Corner Camp some two or three miles to the east of us. \"Dimitri had\nleft his Alpine rope there, and also I should have liked to have brought\nin Evans' sledge, but it would have meant about five miles extra, and I\nleft it. I hope Scott, finding no note, will not think we are lost.\"[267]\n\nDimitri seemed to be getting worse, and we pushed on until we camped that\nnight only fifteen miles from Hut Point. My main anxiety was whether the\nsea-ice between us and Hut Point was in, because I felt that the job of\ngetting the teams up on to the Peninsula and along it and down the other\nside would be almost more than we could do: there was an ominous\nopen-water sky ahead.\n\nOn March 15 we were held up all day by a strong blizzard. But by 8 A.M.\nthe next morning we could see just the outline of White Island. I was\nvery anxious, for Dimitri said that he had nearly fainted, and I felt\nthat we must get on somehow, and chance the sea-ice being in. He stayed\ninside the tent as long as possible, and my spirits rose as the land\nbegan to clear all round while I was packing up both sledges. From Safety\nCamp the mirage at the edge of the Barrier was alarming, but as we\napproached the edge to my very great relief I found that the sea-ice was\nstill in, and that what we had taken for frost smoke was only drift over\nCape Armitage.\n\nPushing into the drift round the corner I found Atkinson on the sea-ice,\nand Keohane in the hut behind. In a few minutes we had the gist of one\nanother's news. The ship had made attempt after attempt to reach Campbell\nand his five men, but they had not been taken off from Evans Coves when\nshe finally left McMurdo Sound on March 4: she would make another effort\non her way to New Zealand. Evans was better and was being taken home.\nMeanwhile there were four of us at Hut Point and we could not communicate\nwith our companions at Cape Evans until the Sound froze over, for the\nopen sea was washing the feet of Vince's Cross.\n\n * * * * *\n\nWe were not unduly alarmed about the Polar Party at present, but began to\nmake arrangements for further sledging if necessary. It was useless to\nthink of taking the dogs again for they were thoroughly done. The mules\nand the new dogs were at Cape Evans. \"In four or five days Atkinson\nwishes to start South again to see what we can do man-hauling, if the\nPolar Party is not in. I agree with him that to try and go west to meet\nCampbell is useless just now. If we can go north, they can come south,\nand to put two parties there on the new sea-ice is to double the risk.\"\n\n\"_March 17._ A blizzard day but only about force 5-6. I think they will\nhave been able to travel all right on the Barrier. Atkinson thinks of\nstarting on the 22nd: my view is that allowing three weeks and four days\nfor the Summit, and ten days for being hung up by weather, we can give\nthem five weeks after the Last Return Party (i.e. to March 26) to get\nin, having been quite safe and sound all the way. We feel anxious now,\nbut I do not think there is need for alarm till then, and they might get\nin well after that, and be all right.\n\n\"Now our only real chance of finding them, if we go out, is from here to\nten miles south of Corner Camp. After that we shall do all we can, but it\nwould be no good, because there is no very definite route. Therefore I\nwould start out on March 27, when we would travel that part with most\nchance of meeting them there if they have any trouble. I have put this to\nAtkinson and will willingly do what he decides. I am feeling pretty done\nup, and have rested. The prospect of what will be a hard journey, feeling\nas I do, is rather bad. I don't think there is really cause for alarm.\"\n\n\"_March 18 and 19._ We are very anxious, though the Pole Party could not\nbe in yet. Also I am very done, and more so than I at first thought: I am\nafraid it is a bit doubtful whether I can get out again yet, but to-day I\nfeel better and have been for a short walk. I am taking all the rest I\ncan.\"\n\n\"_March 20._ Last night a very strong blizzard blew, wind force 9 and big\nsnowfall and drift. This morning the doors and windows are all drifted\nup, and we could hardly get out: a lot of snow had got inside the hut\nalso: I was feeling rotten, and thought that to go out and clear the\nwindow and door would do me good. This I did, but came back in a big\nsquall, passing Atkinson as I came in. Then I felt myself going faint,\nand remember pushing the door to get in if possible. I knew no more until\nI came to on the floor just inside the door, having broken some tendons\nin my right hand in falling.\"[268]\n\nTwo days afterwards the dogs sang at breakfast-time: they often did this\nwhen a party was approaching, even when it was still far away, and they\nhad done so when Crean came in on his walk from Corner Camp. We were\ncheered by the noise. But no party arrived, and the singing of the dogs\nwas explained later by some seal appearing on the new ice in Arrival Bay.\nAtkinson decided to go out on to the Barrier man-hauling with Keohane on\nthe 26th. It was obvious that I could not go with them: he told me\nafterwards that when I came in with the dog-teams he was sure I could not\ngo out again.\n\n\"_March 25._ The wind came away yesterday evening, first S.W. and then\nS.E. but not bad, though very thick. It was a surprise to find we could\nsee the Western Mountains this morning, and I believe it has been a good\nday on the Barrier, though it is still blowing with low drift this\nevening. We are now on the days when I expect the Polar Party in: pray\nGod I may be right. Atkinson and I look at one another, and he looks, and\nI feel, quite haggard with anxiety. He says he does not think they have\nscurvy. We both, I think, feel quite comfortable, in comparison, about\nCampbell: he only wants to exercise care, and his great care was almost a\nbyword on the ship. They are fresh and they have plenty of seal.[269] He\ndiscussed with Pennell both the possibility of shipwreck and that of the\nship being unable to get to him, and for this reason landed an extra\nmonth's rations as a depôt; also he contemplated the idea of living on\nseal. He knows of the Butter Point Depôt, and knows that a party has been\nsledging in that neighbourhood: though he does not know of the depôts\nthey left at Cape Roberts and Cape Bernacchi, they are right out on the\nPoints and Taylor says he could not miss them on his way down the\ncoast.\"[270]\n\nThis day Atkinson thought he saw Campbell's party coming in, and the next\nday Keohane and Dimitri came in great excitement and said they could see\nthem, and we were out on the Point and on the sea-ice in the drift for\nquite a long time. \"Last night we had turned in about two hours when five\nor six knocks were hit on the little window over our heads. Atkinson\nshouted 'Hullo!' and cried, 'Cherry, they're in.' Keohane said, 'Who's\ncook?' Some one lit a candle and left it in the far corner of the hut to\ngive them light, and we all rushed out. But there was no one there. It\nwas the nearest approach to ghost work that I have ever heard, and it\nmust have been a dog which sleeps in that window. He must have shaken\nhimself, hitting the window with his tail. Atkinson thought he heard\nfootsteps!\"[271]\n\nOn Wednesday, March 27, Atkinson started out on to the Barrier with one\ncompanion, Keohane. During the whole of this trip the temperatures were\nlow, and both men obtained but little sleep, finding of course that a\ntent occupied by two men only is a very cold place. The first two days\nthey made nine miles each day, on March 29 they pushed on in thick\nweather for eleven miles, when the weather cleared enough to show them\nthat they had got into the White Island pressure. On March 30 they\nreached a point south of Corner Camp, when \"taking into consideration the\nweather, and temperatures, and the time of the year, and the hopelessness\nof finding the party except at any definite point like a depôt, I decided\nto return from here. We depôted the major portion of a week's provisions\nto enable them to communicate with Hut Point in case they should reach\nthis point. At this date in my own mind I was morally certain that the\nparty had perished, and in fact on March 29 Captain Scott, 11 miles south\nof One Ton Depôt, made the last entry in his diary.\"[272]\n\n\"They arrived back on April 1. Yesterday evening at 6.30 P.M. Atkinson\nand Keohane arrived. It was pretty thick here and blowing too, but they\nhad had a fair day on the Barrier. They had been out to Corner Camp and\neight miles farther. Their bags were bad, their clothes very bad after\nsix days: they must have had minus forties constantly. It is a moral\ncertainty that to go farther south would serve no purpose, and for two\nmen would be a useless risk. They did quite right to come back. They are\nmuch in want of sleep, poor devils, and I do hope Atkinson will allow\nhimself to rest: he looks as though he might knock up. Keohane did well,\nand is very fit. They came in over fifteen miles yesterday, and have\nbrought in the sledge of the Second Return Party, the one they took out\nbeing very heavy pulling. They had no day on which they could not travel.\nHere it has been blowing and drifting half the time he has been absent,\"\nand a few days later, \"We have got to face it now. The Pole Party will\nnot in all probability ever get back. And there is no more that we can\ndo. The next step must be to get to Cape Evans as soon as it is possible.\nThere are fresh men there: at any rate fresh compared to us.\"[273]\n\n * * * * *\n\nAtkinson was the senior officer left, and unless Campbell and his party\ncame in, the command of the Main Party devolved upon him. It was not a\nposition which any one could envy even if he had been fresh and fit.\nAmidst all his anxieties and responsibilities he looked after me with the\ngreatest patience and care. I was so weak that sometimes I could only\nkeep on my legs with difficulty: the glands of my throat were swollen so\nthat I could hardly speak or swallow: my heart was strained and I had\nconsiderable pain. At such a time I was only a nuisance, but nothing\ncould have exceeded his kindness and his skill with the few drugs which\nwe possessed.\n\nAgain and again in these days some one would see one or other of the\nmissing parties coming in. It always proved to be mirage, a seal or\npressure or I do not know what, but never could we quite persuade\nourselves that these excitements might not have something in them, and\nevery time hope sprang up anew. Meanwhile the matter of serious\nimportance was the state of the ice in the bays between us and Cape\nEvans: we _must_ get help. All the ice in the middle of the Sound was\nswept out by the winds of March 30 to April 2, and on the following day\nAtkinson climbed Arrival Heights to see how the remaining ice looked. The\nview over the Sound from here is shown in the frontispiece to this book.\n\"The ice in the two bays to Cape Evans is quite new--formed this morning,\nI suppose, with the rest that is in the Sound. There are open leads\nbetween Glacier Tongue and Cape Evans, inside the line joining the ends\nof the two. There is a big berg in between Glacier Tongue and the\nIslands, and also a flat one off Cape Evans.\"[274]\n\nWe had some good freezing days after this, and on April 5 \"we tried the\nice this afternoon. It is naturally slushy and salt, but some hundred\nyards from the old ice it is six inches thick: probably it averages about\nthis thickness all over the Sound.\"[275] Then we had a hard blizzard, on\nthe fourth day of which it was possible to get up the Heights again and\nsee for some distance. As far as could be judged the ice in the two bays\nhad remained firm: these bays are those formed on either side of Glacier\nTongue, by the Hut Point Peninsula on the south, and by Cape Evans and\nthe islands on the north.\n\nOn April 10 Atkinson, Keohane and Dimitri started for Cape Evans, meaning\nto travel along the Peninsula to the Hutton Cliffs, and thence to cross\nthe sea-ice in these bays, if it proved to be practicable. The amount of\ndaylight was now very restricted, and the sun would disappear for the\nwinter a week hence. Arrived at the Hutton Cliffs, where it was blowing\nas usual, they lost no time in lowering themselves and their sledge on to\nthe sea-ice, and were then pleasantly surprised to find how slippery it\nwas. \"We set sail before a strong following breeze and, all sitting on\nthe sledge, had reached the Glacier Tongue in twenty minutes. We\nclambered over the Tongue, and, our luck and the breeze still holding, we\nreached Cape Evans, completing the last seven miles, all sitting on the\nsledge, in an hour.\"\n\n[Illustration: CAPE EVANS FROM ARRIVAL HEIGHTS]\n\n[Illustration: CAPE ROYDS FROM CAPE BARNE]\n\n\"There I called together all the members and explained the situation,\ntelling them what had been done, and what I then proposed to do; also\nasking them for their advice in this trying time. The opinion was almost\nunanimous that all that was possible had been already done. Owing to\nthe lateness of the year, and the likelihood of our being unable to make\nour way up the coast to Campbell, one or two members suggested that\nanother journey might be made to Corner Camp. Knowing the conditions\nwhich had lately prevailed on the Barrier, I took it upon myself to\ndecide the uselessness of this.\"[276]\n\nAll was well at Cape Evans. Winds and temperatures had both been high,\nthe latter being in marked contrast to the low temperatures we had\nexperienced at Hut Point, which averaged as much as 15° lower than those\nthat were recorded in the previous year. The seven mules were well, but\nthree of the new dogs had died: we were always being troubled by that\nmysterious disease.\n\nBefore she left for New Zealand the following members of our company\njoined the ship: Simpson, who had to return to his work in India;\nGriffith Taylor, who had been lent to us by the Australian Government for\nonly one year; Ponting, whose photographic work was done; Day, whose work\nwith the motors was done; Meares, who was recalled by family affairs;\nForde, whose hand had never recovered the effects of frost-bite during\nthe spring; Clissold, who fell off a berg and concussed himself; and\nAnton, whose work with the ponies was done. Lieutenant Evans was\ninvalided home.\n\nArcher had been landed to take Clissold's place as cook; another seaman,\nWilliamson, was landed to take Forde's place, and of our sledging\ncompanions he was the only fresh man. Wright was probably the most fit\nafter him, and otherwise we had no one who, under ordinary circumstances,\nwould have been considered fit to go out sledging again this season,\nespecially at a time when the sun was just leaving us for the winter. We\nwere sledged out.\n\nThe next few days were occupied in making preparations for a further\nsledge journey, and on April 13 a party started to return to Hut Point by\nthe Hutton Cliffs. Atkinson, Wright, Keohane and Williamson were to try\nand sledge up the western coast to help Campbell: Gran and Dimitri were\nto stay with me at Hut Point. The surface of the sea-ice was now\nextremely slushy and bad for pulling; the ice had begun to extrude its\nsalt. A blizzard started in their faces, and they ran for shelter to the\nlee of Little Razorback Island. The weather clearing they pushed on to\nthe Glacier Tongue, and camped there for the night somewhat frost-bitten.\nSome difficulty was experienced the next morning in climbing the\nice-cliff on to the Peninsula, but Atkinson, using his knife as a\npurchase, and the sledge held at arm's-length by four men as a ladder,\nsucceeded eventually in getting a foothold.\n\nMeanwhile I was left alone at Hut Point, where blizzards raged\nperiodically with the usual creakings and groanings of the old hut.\nFoolishly I accompanied my companions, when they started for Cape Evans,\nas far as the bottom of Ski Slope. When I left them I found I could not\nkeep my feet on the slippery snow and ice patches, and I had several\nnasty falls, in one of which I gave my shoulder a twist. It was this\nshaking combined with the rather desperate conditions which caused a more\nacute state of illness and sickness than I had experienced for some time.\nSome of those days I remained alone at Hut Point I was too weak to do\nmore than crawl on my hands and knees about the hut. I had to get blubber\nfrom the door to feed the fire, and chop up seal-meat to eat, to cook,\nand to tend the dogs, some of whom were loose, while most of them were\ntied in the verandah, or between the hut door and Vince's Cross. The hut\nwas bitterly cold with only one man in it: had there not been some\nmorphia among the stores brought down from Cape Evans I do not know what\nI should have done.\n\nThe dogs realized that they could take liberties which they would not\nhave dared to do in different circumstances. They whined and growled, and\nsquabbled amongst themselves all the time, day and night. Seven or eight\ntimes one day I crawled across the floor to try and lay my hands upon one\ndog who was the ringleader. I was sure it was Dyk, but never detected him\nin the act, and though I thrashed him with difficulty as a speculation,\nthe result was not encouraging. I would willingly have killed the lot of\nthem just then, I am ashamed to say. I lay in my sleeping-bag with the\nfloor of the hut falling from me, or its walls disappearing in the\ndistance and coming back: and roused myself at intervals to feed blubber\nto the stove. I felt as though I had been delivered out of hell when the\nrelief party arrived on the night of April 14. I had been alone four\ndays, and I think a few more days would have sent me off my head. Not the\nleast welcome of the things they had brought me were my letters, copies\nof the Weekly Times, a pair of felt shoes and a comb!\n\nAtkinson's plan was to start on April 7 over the old sea-ice which lay to\nthe south and south-west of us: he was to take with him Wright, Keohane\nand Williamson, and they wanted to reach Butter Point, and thence to\nsledge up the western coast. If the sea-ice was in, and Campbell was\nsledging down upon it, they hoped to meet him and might be of the\ngreatest assistance to him. Even if they did not meet him they could mark\nmore obviously certain depôts, of which he had no knowledge, left by our\nown geological parties on the route he must follow. As I have already\nmentioned, these were on Cape Roberts, off Granite Harbour, and on Cape\nBernacchi, north of New Harbour: there was also a depôt at Butter Point,\nbut Campbell already knew of this. They could also leave instructions to\nthis effect at points where he would be likely to see them. There was no\nquestion that there was grave risk in this journey. Not only was the\nwinter approaching, and the daylight limited, but the sea-ice over which\nthey must march was most dangerous. Sea-ice is always forming and being\nblown out to sea, or just floating away on the tide at this time of year.\nThe amount of old ice which had remained during the summer was certain to\nbe limited: the new ice was thin and might take them out with it at any\ntime. However, what could be done had to be done.\n\nBefore they left certain signals by means of rockets and Véry lights were\narranged, to be sent up by us at Hut Point if Campbell arrived: signals\nhad also been arranged between Hut Point and Cape Evans in view of\ncertain events. We did not have, but I think we ought to have had some\nform of portable heliograph for communications between Hut Point and Cape\nEvans when the sun was up and some kind of lamp signal apparatus to use\nduring the winter.\n\nThey started at 10.30 A.M. on Wednesday, April 17. The sun was now only\njust peeping over the northern horizon at mid-day, and would disappear\nentirely in six more days, though of course