[101] Ibid. p. 106.
[102] My own diary.

[103] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 111.

[104] My own diary.

[105] _The South Pole_, vol. i. p. 278.

[106] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 128.

[107] Ibid. p. 129.

[108] My own diary.

[109] See Introduction, p. xxxiv.

[110] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 122.

[111] Ibid. pp. 122-123.

[112] Priestley's diary.

[113] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 127.

[114] Ibid. p. 134.

[115] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 136.

[116] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 138.




CHAPTER V

THE DEPOT JOURNEY

The dropping of the daylight in the west.
ROBERT BROWNING.


January to March 1911

SCOTT              MEARES               CREAN
WILSON             ATKINSON             FORDE
LIEUT. EVANS       CHERRY-GARRARD       DIMITRI
BOWERS             GRAN
OATES              KEOHANE

Imaginative friends of the thirteen men who started from Cape Evans on
January 24, 1911, may have thought of them as athletes, trained for some
weeks or months to endure the strains which they were to face, sleeping a
good nine hours a night, eating carefully regulated meals and doing an
allotted task each day under scientific control.

They would be far from the mark. For weeks we had turned in at midnight
too tired to take off our clothes, and had been lucky if we were allowed
to sleep until 5 A.M. We had eaten our meals when we could, and we had
worked in the meantime just as hard as it was physically possible to do.
If we sat down on a packing-case we went to sleep.

And we finally left the camp in a state of hurry bordering upon panic.
Since the ice to the south of us, the road to the Barrier, was being
nibbled away by thaw, winds and tides, it was impossible to lead the
ponies down from the Cape on to the sea-ice. The open sea was before us
and on our right front. It was necessary to lead them up among the lava
blocks which lay on the escarpment of Erebus, south-eastwards towards
Land's End, and thence to slide them down a steep but rubbly slope to the
ice which still remained. As a matter of fact that ice went out the very
next day.

During the last two days provisions had been bagged with the utmost
despatch; sledges packed; letters scribbled; clothing sorted and rough
alterations to it made. Scott was busy, with Bowers' help, making such
arrangements as could be suggested for a further year's stay, for which
the ship was to order the necessaries. Oates was busy weighing out the
pony food for the journey, sorting harness, and generally managing a most
unruly mob of ponies. Many were the arguments as to the relative value of
a pair of socks or their equivalent weight in tobacco, for we were
allowed 12 lbs. of private gear apiece, to consist of everything which we
did not habitually wear on our bodies. This included such things as:

Sleeping-boots.
Sleeping-socks.
Extra pair of day socks.
A shirt.
Tobacco and pipe.
Notebook for diary and pencil.
Extra balaclava helmet.
Extra woollen mitts.
Housewife containing buttons, needles, darning needles,
thread and wool.
Extra pair of finnesko.
Big safety-pins with which to hang up our socks.
And perhaps one small book.

My most vivid recollection of the day we started is the sight of Bowers,
out of breath, very hot, and in great pain from a bad knock which he had
given his knee against a rock, being led forward by his big pony Uncle
Bill, over whom temporarily he had but little control. He had been left
behind in the camp, giving last instructions about the storage of cases
and management of provisions, and had practically lost himself in trying
to follow us over what was then unknown ground. He was wearing all the
clothing which was not included in his personal gear, for he did not
think it fair to give the pony the extra weight. He had bruised his leg
in an ugly way, and for many days he came to me to bandage it. He was
afraid that if he let the doctors see it they would forbid him to go
forward. He had had no sleep for seventy-two hours.

That first night (January 24) we pitched our inexperienced camp not far
from Hut Point. But our first taste of sledging was not without incident.
Starting with the ponies only we walked them to Glacier Tongue, where the
ice and open water joined, and as we went we watched the ship pass us out
in the Strait and moor up to the end of the Tongue. Getting the ponies
across the Tongue with its shallow but numerous crevasses and holes was
ticklish work, but we tethered them safely off the Terra Nova, which
meanwhile was landing dogs, sledges and gear. Then we got some lunch on
board. A large lead in the sea-ice to the south of the Tongue
necessitated some hours' work in man-hauling all sledges along the back
of the Tongue until a way could be found down on to safe ice. We then
followed with the ponies. "If a pony falls into one of these holes I
shall sit down and cry," said Oates. Within three minutes my pony was
wallowing, with only his head and forelegs visible, in a mess of brash
and snow, which had concealed a crack in the sea-ice which was obviously
not going to remain much longer in its present position. We got lashings
round him and hauled him out. Poor Guts! He was fated to drown: but in an
hour he appeared to have forgotten all about his mishap, and was pulling
his first load towards Hut Point as gallantly as always.

The next day we took further stores from the ship to the camp which had
formed. Some of these loads were to be left on the edge of the Barrier
when we got there, but for the present we had to relay, that is, take one
load forward and come back for another.

On the 26th we sledged back to the ship for our last load, and said
good-bye on the sea-ice to those men with whom we had already worked so
long, to Campbell and his five companions who were to suffer so much, to
cheery Pennell and his ship's company.

Before we left, Scott thanked Pennell and his men "for their splendid
work. They have behaved like bricks, and a finer lot of men never sailed
in a ship.... It was a little sad to say farewell to all these good
fellows and Campbell and his men. I do most heartily trust that all will
be successful in their ventures, for indeed their unselfishness and their
generous high spirit deserve reward. God bless them."

Four of that Depot party were never to see these men again, and Pennell,
Commander of the Queen Mary, went down with his ship in the battle of
Jutland.

Two days later, January 28, we sledged our first loads on to the Barrier.
By that day we had done nearly ninety miles of relay work, first from the
ship at Glacier Tongue to our camp off Hut Point, and then onwards. Those
first days of sledging were wonderful! What memories they must have
brought to Scott and Wilson when to us, who had never seen them before,
these much-discussed landmarks were almost like old friends. As we made
our way over the frozen sea every seal-hole was of interest, and every
type of wind-swept snow a novelty. The peak of Terror opened out behind
the crater of Erebus, and we walked under Castle Rock and Danger Slope
until, rounding the promontory, we saw the little jagged Hut Point, and
on it the cross placed there to Vince's memory, all unchanged. There was
the old Discovery hut and the Bay in which the Discovery lay, and from
which she was almost miraculously freed at the last moment, only to be
flung upon the shoal which runs out from the Point, where some tins of
the old Discovery days lie on the bottom still and glint in the evening
sun. And round about the Bay were the Heights of which we had read,
Observation Hill, and Crater Hill separated from it by The Gap--through
which the wind was streaming; of course it was, for this must be the
famous Hut Point wind.

A few hundred more blizzards had swept over it since those days, but it
was all just the same, even to Ferrar's little stakes placed across the
glacierets to mark their movement, more, even to the footsteps still
plainly visible on the slopes.

The ponies were dragging up to 900 lbs. each these days, and though they
did not seem to be unduly distressed, two of them soon showed signs of
lameness. This caused some anxiety, but the trouble was mended by rest.
On the whole, though the surface was hard, I think we were giving them
too much weight.

The sea-ice off Hut Point and Observation Hill was already very
dangerous, and had we then had the experience and knowledge of sea-ice
with which we can now look back, it is probable that we should not have
slept so easily upon its surface. Parties travelling to Hut Point and
beyond in summer must keep well out from the Point and Cape Armitage. But
all haste was being made to transport the necessary stores on to the
Barrier surface, where a big home depot could be made, so far as we could
judge, in safety. The pressure ridges in the sea-ice between Cape
Armitage and Pram Point, which are formed by the movement of the Barrier,
were large, and in some of the hollows countless seals were playing in
the water. Judging by the size of these ridges and by the thickness of
this ice when it broke up, the ice south of Hut Point was at least two
years old.

I well remember the day we took the first of our loads on to the Barrier.
I expect we were all a little excited, for to walk upon the Barrier for
the first time was indeed an adventure: what kind of surface was it, and
how about these beastly crevasses of which we had read so much? Scott was
ahead, and so far as we could see there was nothing but the same level of
ice all round--when suddenly he was above us, walking up the sloping and
quite invisible drift. A minute after and our ponies and sledges were up
and over the tide crack, and beneath us soft and yielding snow, very
different from the hard wind-swept surface of the frozen sea, which we
had just left. Really it was rather prosaic and a tame entrance. But the
Barrier is a tricky place, and it takes years to get to know her.

On our outward journey this day Oates did his best to kill a seal. My own
tent was promised some kidneys if we were good, and our mouths watered
with the prospect of the hoosh before us. The seal had been left for
dead, and when on our homeward way we neared the place of his demise
Titus went off to carve our dinner from him. The next thing we saw was
the seal lolloping straight for his hole, while Oates did his best to
stab him. The quarry made off safely not much hurt, for, as we discovered
later, a clasp-knife is quite useless to kill a seal. Oates returned with
a bad cut, as his hand had slipped down the knife; and it was a long time
before he was allowed to forget it.

This Barrier, which we were to know so well, was soft, too soft for the
ponies, and apparently flat. Only to our left, some hundreds of yards
distant, there were two little snowy mounds. We got out the telescope
which we carried, but could make nothing of them. While we held our
ponies Scott walked towards them, and soon we saw him brushing away snow
and uncovering something dark beneath. They were tents, obviously left by
Shackleton or his men when the Nimrod was embarking his Southern party
from the Barrier. They were snowed up outside, and iced up inside almost
to the caps. Afterwards we dug them out, a good evening's work. The
fabric was absolutely rotten, we just tore it down with our hands, but
the bamboos and caps were as sound as ever. When we had dug down to the
floor-cloth we found everything intact as when it was left. The cooker
was there and a primus--Scott lighted it and cooked a meal; we often used
it afterwards. And there were Rowntree's cocoa, Bovril, Brand's extract
of beef, sheep's tongues, cheese and biscuits--all open to the snow and
all quite good. We ate them for several days. There is something
impressive in these first meals off food which has been exposed for
years.

It was on a Saturday, January 28, that we took our first load a short
half-mile on to the Barrier and left it at a place afterwards known as
the Fodder Depot. Two days later we moved our camp 1 mile 1200 yards
farther on to the Barrier and here was erected the main depot, known as
Safety Camp. 'Safety' because it was supposed that even if a phenomenal
break-up of sea-ice should occur, and take with it part of the Barrier,
this place would remain. Subsequent events proved the supposition well
founded. This short bit of Barrier sledging gave all of us food for
thought, for the surface was appallingly soft, and the poor ponies were
sinking deep. It was obvious that no animals could last long under such
conditions. But somehow Shackleton had got his four a long way.

There was now no hurry, for there was plenty of food. It was only when we
went on from here that we must economize food and travel fast. It was
determined to give the ponies a rest while we made the depot and
rearranged sledges, which we did on the following day. We had with us one
pair of pony snow-shoes, a circle of wire as a foundation, hooped round
with bamboo, and with beckets of the same material. The surface suggested
their trial, which was completely successful. The question of snow-shoes
had been long and anxiously considered, and shoes for all the ponies were
at Cape Evans; but as we had so lately landed from the ship the ponies
had not been trained in their use, and they had not been brought.

Scott immediately sent Wilson and Meares with a dog-team to see whether
the sea-ice would allow them to reach Cape Evans and bring back shoes for
the other ponies. Meanwhile the next morning saw us trying to accustom
the animals to wearing snow-shoes by exercising them in the one pair we
possessed. But it seemed no use continuing to do this after the dog party
came in. They had found the sea-ice gone between Glacier Tongue and
Winter Quarters and so were empty-handed. They reported that a crevasse
at the edge of the Tongue had opened under the sledge, which had tilted
back into the crevasse but had run over it. These Glacier Tongue
crevasses are shallow things; Gran fell into one later and walked out of
the side of the Tongue on to the sea-ice beyond!

It was determined to start on the following day with five weeks'
provisions for men and animals; to go forward for about fourteen days,
depot two weeks' provisions and return. Most unfortunately Atkinson would
have to be left behind with Crean to look after him. He had chafed his
foot, and the chafe had suppurated. To his great disappointment there was
no alternative but to lie up. Luckily we had another tent, and there was
the cooker and primus we had dug out of Shackleton's tent. Poor Crean was
to spend his spare time in bringing up loads from the Fodder Depot to
Safety Camp and, worse still from his point of view, dig a hole downwards
into the Barrier for scientific observations!

We left the following morning, February 2, and marched on a patchy
surface for five miles (Camp 4). The temperature was above zero and Scott
decided to see whether the surface was not better at night. On the whole,
it is problematical whether this is the case--we came to the conclusion
later that the ideal surface for pulling a sledge on ski was found at a
temperature of about +16 deg.. But there is no doubt whatever that ponies
should do their work at night, when the temperature is colder, and rest
and sleep when the sun has its greatest altitude and power. And so we
camped and turned in to our sleeping-bags at 4 P.M. and marched again
soon after midnight, doing five miles before and five miles after lunch:
lunch, if you please, being about 1 A.M., and a very good time, for just
then the daylight seemed to be thin and bleak and one always felt the
cold.

Our road lay eastwards through the Strait, some twenty-five miles in
width, which runs between the low, rather uninteresting scarp of White
Island to the south, and the beautiful slopes of Erebus and Terror to the
north. This part of the Barrier is stagnant, but the main stream in front
of us, unchecked by land, flows uninterruptedly northwards towards the
Ross Sea. Only where the stream presses against the Bluff, White Island
and, most important of all, Cape Crozier, and rubs itself against the
nearly stationary ice upon which we were travelling, pressures and
rendings take place, forming some nasty crevasses. It was intended to
steer nearly east until this line was crossed some distance north of
White Island, and then steer due south.

It is most difficult on a large snow surface to say whether it is flat.
Certainly there are plenty of big crevasses for several miles in this
neighbourhood, though they are generally well covered, and we found only
very small ones on this outward journey. I am inclined to think there are
also some considerable pressure waves. As we came up to Camp 5 we
floundered into a pocket of soft snow in which one pony after another
plunged deeper and deeper until they were buried up to their bellies and
could move no more. I suppose it was an old crevasse filled with soft
snow, or perhaps one of the pressure-ridge hollows which had been
recently drifted up. My own pony somehow got through with his sledge to
the other side, and every moment I expected the ground to fall below us
and a chasm to swallow us up. The others had to be unharnessed and led
out. The only set of snow-shoes was then put on to Bowers' big pony and
he went back and drew the stranded sledges out. Beyond we pitched our
camp.

On February 3-4 we marched for ten miles to Camp 6. In the last five
miles we crossed several crevasses, our first; and I heard Oates ask some
one what they looked like. "Black as hell," he said, but we saw no more
just now, for this march carried us beyond the line of pressure which
runs between White Island and Cape Crozier. This halt was called Corner
Camp, as we turned here and marched due south. Corner Camp will be heard
of again and again in this story: it is thirty miles from Hut Point.

By 4 P.M. it was blowing our first Barrier blizzard. We were to find out
afterwards that a Corner Camp blizzard blows nearly as often as a Hut
Point wind. The Bluff seems to be the breeding-place for these
disturbances, which pour out towards the sea by way of Cape Crozier.
Corner Camp is in the direct line between the two.

One summer blizzard is much like another. The temperature, never very
low, rises, and you are not cold in the tent. Sometimes a blizzard is a
very welcome rest: after weeks of hard pulling, dragging yourself awake
each morning, feeling as though you had only just gone to sleep, with
the mental strain perhaps which work among crevasses entails, it is most
pleasant to be put to bed for two or three days. You may sleep
dreamlessly nearly all the time, rousing out for meals, or waking
occasionally to hear from the soft warmth of your reindeer bag the deep
boom of the tent flapping in the wind, or drowsily you may visit other
parts of the world, while the drifting snow purrs against the green tent
at your head.

But outside there is raging chaos. It is blowing a full gale: the air is
full of falling snow, and the wind drives this along and adds to it the
loose snow which is lying on the surface of the Barrier. Fight your way a
few steps away from the tent, and it will be gone. Lose your sense of
direction and there is nothing to guide you back. Expose your face and
hands to the wind, and they will very soon be frost-bitten. And this at
midsummer. Imagine the added cold of spring and autumn: the cold and
darkness of winter.

The animals suffer most, and during this first blizzard all our ponies
were weakened, and two of them became practically useless. It must be
remembered that they had stood for five weeks upon a heaving deck; they
had been through one very bad gale: the time during which we were
unloading the ship was limited, and since that time they had dragged
heavy loads the greater part of 200 miles. Nothing was left undone for
them which we could manage, but necessarily the Antarctic is a grim place
for ponies. I think Scott felt the sufferings of the ponies more than the
animals themselves. It was different for the dogs. These fairly warm
blizzards were only a rest for them. Snugly curled up in a hole in the
snow they allowed themselves to be drifted over. Bieleglas and Vaida, two
half brothers who pulled side by side, always insisted upon sharing one
hole, and for greater warmth one would lie on the top of the other. At
intervals of two hours or so they fraternally changed places.

This blizzard lasted three days.

We now marched nearly due south, the open Barrier in front, Mount Terror
and the sea behind, for five days, covering fifty-four miles, when, being
now level with the southern extremity of the Bluff, we laid the Bluff
Depot. The bearings of Bluff Depot, as well as those of Corner Camp, are
given in Scott's Last Expedition.

The characteristics of these days were the collapse of two of the ponies,
Bluecher and Blossom, and the partial collapse of a third, Jimmy Pigg,
although the surface hardened, becoming a marbled series of wind-swept
ridges and domes in this region. For the rest the new hands were finding
out how to keep warm on the Barrier, how to pitch a tent and cook a meal
in twenty minutes, and the thousand and one little tips which only
experience can teach. But all the care in the world could do little for
the poor ponies.

It must be confessed at once that some of these ponies were very poor
material, and it must be conceded that Oates who was in charge of them
started with a very great handicap. From first to last it was Oates'
consummate management, seconded by the care and kindness of the ponies'
leaders, which obtained results which often exceeded the most sanguine
hopes.

One evening we watched Scott digging crumbly blocks of snow out of the
Barrier and building a rough wall, something like a grouse butt, to the
south of his pony. In our inmost hearts I fear we viewed these
proceedings with distrust, and saw in it but little usefulness,--one
little bit of leaky wall in a great plain of snow. But a very little wind
(which you must understand comes almost invariably from the south)
convinced us from personal experience what a boon these walls could be.
Henceforward every night on camping each pony leader built a wall behind
his pony while his pemmican was cooking, and came out after supper to
finish this wall before he turned in to his sleeping-bag--no small thing
when you consider that the warmth of your hours of rest depends largely
upon getting into your bag immediately you have eaten your hoosh and
cocoa. And not seldom you might hear a voice in your dreams: "Bill!
Nobby's kicked his wall down"; and out Bill would go to build it up
again.

[Illustration: DOGSKIN 'MITTS']

[Illustration: SLEDGING SPOON, CUP AND PANNIKIN]

Oates wished to take certain of the ponies as far south as possible on
the Depot journey, and then to kill them and leave the meat there as a
depot of dog food for the Polar Journey. Scott was against this plan.
Here at Bluff Depot he decided to send back the three weakest ponies
(Blossom, Bluecher and Jimmy Pigg, with their leaders, Lieutenant Evans,
Forde and Keohane). They started back the next morning (February 13)
while the remainder of the party went forward over a surface which
gradually became softer as we left behind the windy region of the Bluff.
We now had with us the two teams of dogs, driven by Meares and Wilson,
and five ponies.

Scott with 'Nobby.'
Oates with 'Punch.'
Bowers with 'Uncle Bill.'
Gran with 'Weary Willie.'
Cherry-Garrard with 'Guts.'

Scott, Wilson, Meares and myself inhabited one tent, Bowers, Oates and
Gran the other. Scott was evolving in his mind means by which ponies
should follow one another in a string, the second pony with his leading
rein fastened to the back of the sledge of the first and so on, the
cavalcade to be managed by two or three men only, instead of one man to
lead each pony.

Sunday night (February 12) we started from Bluff Depot and did seven
miles before lunch against a considerable drift and wind. It was pretty
cold, and ten minutes after we left our lunch camp with the ponies it was
blowing a full blizzard. The dog party had not started, so we camped and
slept five in the four-man tent, and it was by no means uncomfortable.
Probably this was the time when Scott first thought of taking a five-man
party to the Pole. By Monday evening the blizzard was over, the dogs came
up, and we did 61/2 miles of very heavy going. Gran's pony, Weary Willie, a
sluggish and obstinate animal, was far behind, as usual, when we halted
our ponies at the camping place. Farther off the dog-teams were coming
up. What happened never became clear. Poor Weary, it seems, was in
difficulties in a snow-drift: the dogs of one team being very hungry
took charge of their sledge and in a moment were on the horse, to all
purposes a pack of ravenous wolves. Gran and Weary made a good fight and
the dogs were driven off, but Weary came into camp without his sledge,
covered with blood and looking very sick.

We halted after doing only 3/4 mile more after lunch; for the pony was
done, and little wonder. The following day we did 71/2 miles with
difficulty, both Uncle Bill and Weary Willie going very slowly and
stopping frequently. The going was very deep. The ponies were fast giving
out, and it was evident that we had much to learn as to their use on the
Barrier; they were thin and very hungry; their rations were
unsatisfactory; and the autumn temperatures and winds were beyond their
strength. We went on one more day in a minus twenty temperature and light
airs, and then in latitude 79 deg. 29' S. it was determined to lay the depot,
which was afterwards known as One Ton, and return. In view of subsequent
events it should be realized that this depot was just a cairn of snow in
which were buried food and oil, and over which a flag waved on a bamboo.
There is no land visible from One Ton except on a very clear day and it
is 130 geographical miles from Hut Point.

We spent a day making up the mound which contained about a ton of
provisions, oil, compressed fodder, oats and other necessaries for the
forthcoming Polar Journey. Scott was satisfied with the result, and
indeed this depot ensured that we could start southwards for the Pole
fully laden from this point.

Here the party was again split into two for the return. Scott was anxious
to get such news about the landing of Campbell's party on King Edward
VII.'s Land as the ship should have left at Hut Point on her return
journey. He decided to take the two dog-teams, the first with himself and
Meares, the second with Wilson and myself, and make a quick return,
leaving Bowers with Oates and Gran to help him to bring back the five
ponies, driving them one behind the other.

*       *       *       *       *

THE RETURN OF THE PONY PARTY FROM ONE TON DEPOT

(_From a Letter written by Bowers_)

As our loads were so light Titus thought it would be better for the
ponies to do their full march in one stretch and so have a longer rest.
We, therefore, decided to forgo lunch and have a good meal on camping.
The recent trails were fresh enough to follow and so saved us steering by
compass, which is very difficult as the needle will only come to rest
after you have been standing still for about a minute. That march was
extraordinary, the snowy mist hid all distant objects and made all close
ones look gigantic. Although we were walking on a flat undulating plain,
one could not get away from the impression that the ground was
hilly--quite steep in places with deep hollows by the wayside. Suddenly a
herd of apparent cattle would appear in the distance, then you would
think, 'No, it's a team of dogs broken loose and rushing towards you.' In
another moment one would be walking over the black dots of some old horse
droppings which had been the cause of the hallucinations. Since then I
have often been completely taken in by appearances under certain
conditions of light, and the novelty has worn off. Sastrugi are the hard
waves formed by wind on a snow surface; these are seldom more than a foot
or so in height, and often so obscured as to be imperceptible
irregularities. On this occasion they often appeared like immense ridges
until you walked over them. After going about 10 miles we spotted a tiny
black triangle in the dead white void ahead, it was over a mile away and
was the lunch camp of the dogs. We were fairly close before they broke
camp and hurriedly packed up. I thought they looked rather sheepish at
having been caught up, like the hare and the tortoise again. Still we had
been marching very quickly and Scott was delighted to see Weary Willie
going so well. They then dashed off, and after completing just over 12
miles we reached Pagoda Cairn where a bale of fodder had been left.

Here we camped and threw up our walls as quickly as possible to shelter
the beasts from the cold wind. Weary was the most annoying, he would
deliberately back into his wall and knock the whole structure down. In
the case of my own pony, I had to put the wall out of his reach as his
aim in life was to eat it, generally beginning at the bottom. He would
diligently dislodge a block, and bring down the whole fabric. One cannot
be angry with the silly beggars--Titus says a horse has practically no
reasoning power, the thing to do is simply to throw up another wall and
keep on at it.

The weather cleared during the night, and the next day, February 19, we
started off under ideal conditions, the sun was already dipping pretty
low, marks easy to pick up, and on this occasion we could plainly see a
cairn over seven miles away, raised by the mirage; the only trouble about
seeing things so far off is that they take such an awful time to reach.
Mirage is a great feature down here and one of the most common of optical
phenomena on the Barrier; it is often difficult to persuade oneself that
open water does not lie ahead. We passed the scene of Weary Willie's
fight with the dogs during the march and also had an amusing argument as
to a dark object on the snow ahead. At first we thought it was the dog
camp again, but it turned out to be an empty biscuit tin, such is the
deceptive nature of the light. Later we sighted our old blizzard camp and
decided to utilize the walls again. Weary Willie was decidedly worse and
had to be literally jumped along by the pony to which he was attached.
Within half a mile of the walls Weary refused to go farther, and after
wasting some time in vain efforts to urge him on we had to camp where we
were, having only done 101/2 miles. This was very sad, but I took hope from
the fact that Titus, who is usually pretty pessimistic, had not yet given
up hopes of getting him back alive. He had an extra whack of oats at the
expense of the other ponies, and my big beast made up for his shortage by
hauling the sledge towards him with his tethered leg, and forcing his
nose into our precious biscuit tank, out of which he helped himself
liberally at our expense. The sledges were now too light to anchor the
animals, so we had to peg them down with anything we could and bank them
up with snow.

Weary was better the next day (February 20) but we decided at the outset
to go no farther than the Bluff Camp where we had left some fodder. This
was barely 10 miles off, yet my old animal showed signs of lassitude
before the end; there was nothing alarming, however, and we saw the depot
over five miles off which interested the beasts, who see these things and
somehow connect them, in the backs of their silly old heads, with food
and rest. Weary Willie made a decided improvement, so we camped in high
spirits. Captain Scott had asked me if possible to take some theodolite
observations for the determination of the position of Bluff Camp. Ours is
much farther off and farther beyond the Bluff than the old Discovery
Depot A, which was practically the same position Shackleton used. In both
cases, Scott and Shackleton were keeping nearer the coast; now, however,
that the Beardmore has been discovered we can aim straight for that,
which takes one farther east by at least 15 miles off the Bluff. This is
rather an advantage, I think, as close in to this remarkable headland the
onward movement of the Barrier arrested by the immovable hills causes a
terrific chaos of crevasses off the cliffs at the end. These extend many
miles and include some chasms big enough to take the Terra Nova all
standing. Needless to remark, one is well clear of this sort of scenery
with ponies--hence our course. I was unable to get any observations,
unfortunately, as it clouded over almost at once and later in the day
started to snow without wind. This often happens before a bliz, and as we
were anxious about the ponies to say nothing of our own shortage of
biscuit we felt a trifle apprehensive. It was very gloomy when we left
camp at midnight, as the midnight sun was already cartwheeling the
southern horizon, the first sign of autumn, also the season had
undoubtedly broken up, and the sky was covered with low stratus clouds as
thick as a hedge. We lost sight of the cairn almost at once and followed
the remains of old tracks for a little while till the snowy gloom made it
impossible to see them. You will remember that it was at the Bluff Camp
that Teddy Evans returned with the three weak ponies, so there were
plenty of traces of our march now. Just on four miles from the start I
saw a small mound some distance to the west, and struck over there: it
was a small cairn without the signs of a camp and rather puzzled me at
the time. As I shall mention it later I will call it X for convenience.
We then pushed on and I found steering most difficult. In the fuzzy
nothingness ahead one could see no point on which to fix the eye, and the
compass required standing still to look at it every time. Our sledging
compasses are spirit ones, and as steady as a small hand compass could
possibly be. You will understand, however, that owing to the proximity of
the Magnetic Pole the pull on the needle is chiefly downwards. It is
forced into a horizontal position by a balancing weight on the N. side,
so it is obvious that its direction power is greatly reduced. On the
ship, owing to the vibration of the engines and the motors, we were
absolutely unable to steer by the compass at all when off the region of
the Magnetic Pole.

On this occasion (February 21) we zig-zagged all over the place--first I
went ahead, and Oates said I zig-zagged, then he went ahead, and I
understood at once, as it was impossible to walk straight for two
consecutive minutes. However, we plodded along with frequent stoppages
till the wind came away, and then having determined the direction of
that, steered by keeping the snow on our backs. The wind was not strong
enough to be unpleasant, and all was well. We legged it into the void for
nearly seven miles beyond X Cairn when I suddenly found myself only a few
yards away from another cairn. This shows that somehow, without the use
of tracks or landmarks, we had marched seven miles without being able to
see thirty yards, and had yet hit off the direct track to a T; of course,
it was only coincidence, though some people might credit themselves with
superlative navigating powers on such evidence. The wind increased, and
with the knowledge I now have of blizzards I would camp at once. Then I
thought it better to shove on, as the ponies were marching splendidly.
The danger lay in the fact that though it is easy enough for you to
march with the wind behind, you can't march for ever and you will
probably get tired before the wind does. Camping in a stiff breeze is
always difficult, to say nothing of a gale; and for three men with five
ponies to manage would be wellnigh impossible. Fortunately for us this
was not really a blizzard, though it was quite near enough to one. The
sky broke later and showed the Bluff and White Island, and then the
scurrying clouds of drift would encircle us to break again and come on
again.

After having done seventeen miles we got a lull and stopped to camp right
away. We were pretty quick about it, and fortunately got the ponies
picketed, and tent pitched, before the wind came down on us again. We
were pretty hungry by the time the walls were erected. Still we were
quite happy, ate everything we could get, except the three lumps of sugar
I always kept for old Uncle Bill out of my whack. The little blow blew
itself out towards evening and in perfect calm and sunshine I got a
splendid set of observations. Erebus and Terror were showing up as clear
as a bell and I got a large number of angles for Evans' survey. We
started out as usual, and had the most pleasant, as well as the longest,
of our return marches on the last day of summer, February 22. We did
eighteen miles right off the reel, the sun was brilliant from midnight
onwards. He now half immersed himself below the horizon for a short
interval once in 24 hours. All old cairns were visible a tremendous
distance, six or seven miles at least for big ones. Mount Terror lay
straight ahead and looked so clear that it seemed impossible to imagine
it 70 miles away. At the end of our march we saw a small cairn beyond our
8th outward camp mound. Nobody would have rigged up another cairn so
close without an object, so the thought of a dead horse flashed through
my mind at once. Titus was so sure that Bluecher would never get back,
that he had bet Gran a biscuit on it. I saw the cairn had a fodder bale
on the top, and later saw a note made fast to the wire. It was in Teddy
Evans' handwriting and to our surprise recorded Blossom's death. Titus
was so sure that Blossom would survive Bluecher that we started to think
back and thus the mystery of X Cairn was clear to me. I was quite certain
now that both the ancient ponies had died and that Jimmy Pigg had
returned alone. The following day (February 23) was a good marching day
also, but a bit cloudy latterly. We did fourteen miles as this evidence
of pony failure made us all the more anxious about ours, though really
they were going very well. About eight miles on we came to one of Evans'
camps and the solitary pony wall told its own tale of the death of the
other two. He must have had a miserable return. At eleven miles there
were two bales of fodder depoted, we were only 50 miles odd from our
destination off Cape Armitage, and had one meal over three days' food.
If, therefore, we could average 15 miles a day that would suffice. It was
a silly risk in view of blizzards and other possibilities, chiefly our
own inexperience. As it was I took it and left the fodder there for next
year.

February 24 was another march into impenetrable gloom. Fortunately Corner
Camp, though dark enough, was not shaded in mist. I examined it for notes
and evidence and found some. The sun set properly now, and had we been
farther from home I should have changed to day marching. I have seldom
seen such a scene of utter desolation as Corner Camp presented on that
gloomy day. The fog then settled down and like people of the mist, we
struck off blindly to the N.W. At 3.15 A.M. a light S. breeze came away;
I dreaded a blizzard with so little pony food, and already regretted my
folly in leaving the fodder. After doing twelve miles we had to camp, as
it was impossible even to march straight in the white haze. We made five
colossal walls and turned in, hoping for the best. Fortune favours the
reckless, as well as the brave, at times, and it did this time, as the
blizzard still held off. The signs of one impending were unmistakable
notwithstanding. Weary Willie did less well on February 25, and as the
surface became heavier, we had to camp after only doing eleven miles.

I thought best in view of the threatening appearance of the weather to
have a six hours' rest, and march into Safety Camp the same day, a
distance of eight miles. We found to our horror that Gran had dropped
the top cap of our primus at the last camp. Cold food stared us in face!

However, we did manage to melt some snow for a cheering drink by cutting
a piece of tin as near the shape of the cap as possible. Our biscuit was
finished owing to the ravages of my pony. Before turning in I saw some
specks to the N. and skipping my theodolite on its tripod, looked through
the telescope and saw two tents and a number of ski stuck up. [This was
Scott's man-hauling party together with Jimmy Pigg, going out to Corner
Camp.] This we concluded was either a man-hauling, or man and beast party
bound for Corner Camp. We overslept and so did not get away till the
afternoon. It was still very cloudy and threatening. I found that I had
steered considerably to the southward of the right direction in the fog,
and it is lucky we met with no crevasses off White Island. Safety Camp at
last appeared, and the last four miles seemed interminable. We had given
the animals their last feed before starting, not a particle remained, but
they stuck it. The surface was very heavy. Once, however, that they had
seen the camp they never stopped. I suppose they knew they were nearly
home. We marched in about 9.30 P.M. I said 'Thank God' when I looked at
the weather, and the empty sledges. The dogs were in camp, also the dome
tent [we had some tents shaped like a dome in addition to those we used
for sledging], out of which Uncle Bill (the real 'Uncle Bill Wilson') and
Meares emerged. We soon had the ponies behind walls and well fed,
borrowed their primus for ourselves, and had a square meal of pemmican
and biscuit with fids of seal liver in it.

(End of Bowers' Account.)


THE RETURN OF THE DOG PARTY