The history of the dog-teams was eventful. We travelled fast, doing
nearly 78 miles in the first three days, by which time we were
approaching Corner Camp. The dogs were thin and hungry and we were
pushing them each day just so long as they could pull, running ourselves
for the most part. Scott determined to cut the corner, that is to miss
Corner Camp and cut diagonally across our outward track. It was not
expected that this would bring us across any badly crevassed area.

We started on the evening of February 20 in a very bad light. It was
coldish, with no wind. After going about three miles I saw a drop in the
level of the Barrier which the sledge was just going to run over. I
shouted to Wilson to look out, but he had already jumped on to the sledge
(for he was running) having seen Stareek put his paws through. It was a
nasty crevasse, about twenty feet across with blue holes on both sides.
The sledge ran over and immediately on the opposite side was brought up
by a large 'haystack' of pressure which we had not seen owing to the
light. Meares' team, on our left, never saw any sign of pressure. The
light was so bad that we never saw this cairn of ice until we ran into
it.

We ran level for another two miles, Meares and Scott on our left. We were
evidently crossing many crevasses. Quite suddenly we saw the dogs of
their team disappearing, following one another, just like dogs going down
a hole after some animal.

"In a moment," wrote Scott, "the whole team were sinking--two by two we
lost sight of them, each pair struggling for foothold. Osman the leader
exerted all his strength and kept a foothold--it was wonderful to see
him. The sledge stopped and we leapt aside. The situation was clear in
another moment. We had been actually travelling along the bridge [or snow
covering] of a crevasse, the sledge had stopped on it, whilst the dogs
hung in their harness in the abyss, suspended between the sledge and the
leading dog. Why the sledge and ourselves didn't follow the dogs we shall
never know."

We of the other sledge stopped hurriedly, tethered our team and went to
their assistance with the Alpine rope. Osman, the big leader, was in
great difficulties. He crouched resisting with all his enormous strength
the pull of the rope upon which the team hung in their harness in mid
air. It was clear that if Osman gave way the sledge and dogs would
probably all be lost down the crevasse.

First we pulled the sledge off the crevasse, and drove the tethering peg
and driving stick through the cross pieces to hold it firm. Scott and
Meares then tried to pull up the rope from Osman's end, while we hung on
to the sledge to prevent it slipping down the crevasse. They could not
move it an inch. We then put the strain as much as possible on to a peg.
Meanwhile two dogs had fallen out of their harness into the crevasse and
could be seen lying on a snow-ledge some 65 feet down. Later they curled
up and went to sleep. Another dog as he hung managed to get some purchase
for his feet on the side of the crevasse, and a free fight took place
among several more of them, as they dangled, those that hung highest
using the backs of those under them to get a purchase.

"It takes one a little time," wrote Scott, "to make plans under such
sudden circumstances, and for some minutes our efforts were rather
futile. We could not get an inch on the main trace of the sledge or on
the leading rope, which was binding Osman to the snow with a throttling
pressure. Then thought became clearer. We unloaded our sledge, putting in
safety our sleeping-bags with the tent and cooker. Choking sounds from
Osman made it clear that the pressure on him must soon be relieved. I
seized the lashing off Meares' sleeping-bag, passed the tent poles across
the crevasse, and with Meares managed to get a few inches on the leading
line; this freed Osman, whose harness was immediately cut.

"Then securing the Alpine rope to the main trace we tried to haul up
together. One dog came up and was unlashed, but by this time the rope had
cut so far back at the edge that it was useless to attempt to get more of
it. But we could now unbend the sledge, and do that for which we should
have aimed from the first, namely, run the sledge across the gap and work
from it. We managed to do this, our fingers constantly numbed. Wilson
held on to the anchored trace whilst the rest of us laboured at the
leader end. The leading rope was very small and I was fearful of its
breaking, so Meares was lowered down a foot or two to secure the Alpine
rope to the leading end of the trace; this done, the work of rescue
proceeded in better order. Two by two we hauled the animals up to the
sledge and one by one cut them out of their harness. Strangely the last
dogs were the most difficult, as they were close under the lip of the
gap, bound in by the snow-covered rope. Finally, with a gasp we got the
last poor creature on to firm snow. We had recovered eleven of the
thirteen."[117]

The dogs had been dangling for over an hour, and some of them showed
signs of internal injuries. Meanwhile the two remaining dogs were lying
down the crevasse on a snow-ledge. Scott proposed going down on the
Alpine rope to get them; all his instincts of kindness were aroused, as
well as the thought of the loss of two of the team. Wilson thought it was
a mad idea and very dangerous, and said so, asking however whether he
might not go down instead of Scott if anybody had to go. Scott insisted,
and we paid down the 90-foot Alpine rope to test the distance. The ledge
was about 65 feet below. We lowered Scott, who stood on the ledge while
we hauled up the two dogs in turn. They were glad to see him, and little
wonder!

But the rescued dogs which were necessarily running about loose on the
Barrier, in their mangled harnesses, chose this moment to start a free
fight with the other team. With a hurried shout down the crevasse we had
to rush off to separate them. Nougis I. had been considerably mauled
before this was done--also, incidentally, my heel! But at last we
separated them, and hauled Scott to the surface. It was all three of us
could do and our fingers were frost-bitten towards the end.

Scott's interest in the incident, apart from the recovery of the dogs,
was scientific. Since we were running across the line of cleavage when
the dogs went down, it was to be expected that we should be crossing the
crevasses at right angles, and not be travelling, as actually happened,
parallel to, or along them. While we were getting him up the sixty odd
feet to which we had lowered him he kept muttering: "I wonder why this is
running the way it is--you expect to find them at right angles," and
when down the crevasse he wanted to go off exploring, but we managed to
persuade him that the snow-ledge upon which he was standing was utterly
unsafe, and indeed we could see the nothingness below through the blue
holes in the shelf. Another regret was that we had no thermometer: the
temperature of the inside of the Barrier is of great interest and a
fairly reliable record of the average temperature throughout the year
might have been obtained when so far down into it. Altogether we could
congratulate ourselves on a fortunate ending to a nasty business. We
expected several more miles of crevasses, and the wind was getting up,
driving the surface drift like smoke over the ground, with a very black
sky to the south. We pitched the tent, had a good meal and mended the dog
harness which had been ruthlessly cut in clearing the dogs. Luckily we
found no more crevasses for it was now blowing hard, and rescue work
would have been difficult, and we pushed on as far as possible that
night, doing eleven miles after lunch, and sixteen for the day. It had
been strenuous, for we had been working in or over the crevasse for 21/2
hours, and dogs and men were tired out. It cleared and became quite warm
as we camped. There was a pleasant air of friendship in the tent that
night, rather more than usual. That is generally the result of this kind
of business.

We reached Safety Camp next day (February 22) anxious for news of the
ship's doings, the landing of Campbell's party, and of the ponies which
had been sent back from the Bluff Depot. Lieutenant Evans, Forde and
Keohane, the pony leaders, were there, but only one pony. The other two
had died of exhaustion soon after they left us and we had passed the
cairns which marked their graves without knowledge. Their story was grim,
and they had had a mournful journey back. First Blossom, and then Bluecher
collapsed, their ends being hastened by the blizzard of February 1.

This crevasse incident, followed by the news of the loss of the ponies,
was a blow to Scott, and his mind was also uneasy about Atkinson and
Crean, whom we had left here, and who had disappeared leaving no record.
Nor was the report from the Terra Nova here, so we judged that the
missing men and the report must be at Hut Point. After three or four
hours' sleep, and a cup of tea and a biscuit, we started man-hauling with
cooker and sleeping-bags: the former because we were to have our good
meal at the hut, the latter in case we were hung up. Travelling over the
sea-ice as far as the Gap, from which we saw that the open sea reached to
Hut Point, we made our way into the hut, and there was a mystery. The
accumulations of ice which we found in it were dug away: there was a
notice outside dated February 8 saying, "mail for Captain Scott is in bag
inside south door." We hunted everywhere, but there was no Atkinson nor
Crean, nor mail, nor the things which the ship was to have brought. All
kinds of wild theories were advanced. By the presence of a fresh onion
and some bread it was clear that the ship's party had been there, but the
rest was utterly vague. It was then suggested that we were expected back
about this time, and that the missing men had been sledging to Safety
Camp round Cape Armitage on the very shaky sea-ice while we passed them
as we came through the Gap. Sledge tracks were found leading on to the
sea-ice: we started back in doubt. Scott was terribly anxious, we were
all tired, and the depot never seemed to come nearer. It was not until we
were some two hundred yards from it that we saw the extra tent. "Thank
God!" I heard Scott mutter under his breath, and "I believe you were even
more anxious than I was, Bill."

Atkinson had the ship's mail, signed by Campbell. "Every incident of the
day," Scott wrote, "pales before the startling contents of the mail-bag
which Atkinson gave me--a letter from Campbell setting out his doings and
the finding of Amundsen established in the Bay of Whales."

[Illustration: HUT POINT--E. A. Wilson, del.]

Strongly as Scott tries to word this, it quite fails to convey how he
felt, and how we all felt more or less, in spite of the warning conveyed
in the telegram from Madeira to Melbourne. For an hour or so we were
furiously angry, and were possessed with an insane sense that we must go
straight to the Bay of Whales and have it out with Amundsen and his
men in some undefined fashion or other there and then. Such a mood could
not and did not bear a moment's reflection; but it was natural enough. We
had just paid the first instalment of the heart-breaking labour of making
a path to the Pole; and we felt, however unreasonably, that we had earned
the first right of way. Our sense of co-operation and solidarity had been
wrought up to an extraordinary pitch; and we had so completely forgotten
the spirit of competition that its sudden intrusion jarred frightfully. I
do not defend our burst of rage--for such it was--I simply record it as
an integral human part of my narrative. It passed harmlessly; and Scott's
account proceeds as follows:

"One thing only fixes itself definitely in my mind. The proper, as well
as the wiser, course for us is to proceed exactly as though this had not
happened. To go forward and do our best for the honour of the country
without fear or panic. There is no doubt that Amundsen's plan is a very
serious menace to ours. He has a shorter distance to the Pole by 60
miles--I never thought he could have got so many dogs safely to the ice.
His plan of running them seems excellent. But, above and beyond all, he
can start his journey early in the season--an impossible condition with
ponies."[118]

We read that on leaving McMurdo Sound the Terra Nova coasted eastward
along the Barrier face, with Campbell and his men who were to be landed
on King Edward VII.'s Land if possible. She surveyed the face of the
Barrier as she went from Cape Crozier to longitude 170 deg. W., whence she
shaped a course direct for Cape Colbeck, which Priestley states in his
diary "is only 200 feet high according to our measurement and looks
uncommonly like common or garden Barrier."

Here they met heavy pack, and were forced to return without finding any
place where the cliff was low enough to allow Campbell and his five men
to land. They coasted back, making for an inlet known as Balloon Bight.
Priestley tells the story:

"February 1, 1911. Our trip has not been without outcome after all, and
all our doubts about wintering here or in South Victoria Land have been
settled in a startling fashion. About ten o'clock we steamed into a deep
bay in the Barrier which proved to be Shackleton's Bay of Whales, and our
observations in the last expedition [Shackleton's] have been wonderfully
upheld. Our present sights and angles Pennell tells me are almost a
duplicate of those that we got. Every one has always been doubtful about
the Bay of Whales we reported, but now the matter has been set at rest
finally. There is no doubt now that Balloon Bight and the neighbouring
bay marked on the Discovery's chart have become merged into one, and
further, that since that period the resulting bight has broken back
considerably more: indeed it seems to have altered a good deal on its
western border since our visit to it in 1908. Otherwise it is the same,
the same deceptive caves and shadows having from a distance the
appearance of rock exposures, the same pressure-ridged cliffs, the same
undulations behind, the same expanse of sea-ice and even the same crowds
of whales. I hope that before we leave we shall find it possible to
survey the bight, but that depends on the weather. It was satisfactory to
find all our observations coming right and everybody backing up
Shackleton, and I turned in last night feeling quite cheerful and
believing that there would be a really good chance of the Eastern Party
finding a home on the Barrier here--our last chance of surveying King
Edward's Land.

"However, man proposes but God disposes, and I was waked up by Lillie at
one o'clock this morning by the astounding news that there was a ship in
the bay at anchor to the sea-ice. All was confusion on board for a few
minutes, everybody rushing up on deck with cameras and clothes.

"It was no false alarm, there she was within a few yards of us, and what
is more, those of us who had read Nansen's books recognized the Fram.

"She is rigged with fore and aft sails and as she has petrol engines she
has no funnel. Soon afterwards the men forward declared that they sighted
a hut on the Barrier, and the more excited declared that there was a
party coming out to meet us. Campbell, Levick, and myself were therefore
lowered over the side of the ship while she was being made fast, and set
off on ski towards the dark spot we could see. This proved to be only an
abandoned depot and we returned to the ship, where Campbell, who in his
anxiety to be the first to meet them had left us beginners far behind,
had opened up conversation with the night watchman.

"He informed us that there were only three men on board and that the
remainder of them were settling Amundsen in winter quarters about as far
from the depot as the depot was from the ship. Amundsen is coming to
visit the Fram to-morrow, and we are staying long enough to allow Pennell
and Campbell to interview him. They reached the pack about January 6 and
were through it by the 12th, so they did not have as bad a time as we
did. They inform us that Amundsen does not intend to make his descent on
the Pole until next year. This is encouraging as it means a fair race for
the next summer, though the news we are bringing to them will keep the
Western [Main] Party on tenterhooks of excitement all the winter.

"Our plans have of course been decided for us. We cannot according to
etiquette trench on their winter quarters, but must return to McMurdo
Sound and then go off towards Robertson Bay and settle ourselves as best
we can. While we are waiting events we have not been by any means idle.
Rennick got a sounding, 180 fathoms, and the crew have killed three
seals, including one beautiful silver crab-eater, Lillie has secured
water samples at 50, 100, 150, and 170 fathoms and has had a haul with
the plankton net, and Williams is endeavouring to fit up the trawl for a
haul to-morrow if we get time and appropriate weather. I got a roll of
films and gave the roll to Drake to take home and get developed in
Christchurch. There are photographs of the Fram, of the Fram and Terra
Nova together, of their depot, and of the ice-cliffs and the sea-ice
which is decidedly overcut, the thick snow having been removed in places
by the swell until a ledge several yards wide is lying just submerged.

"It has been calm all the night with the snow falling at intervals.

"February 4, 1911. I was waked at seven o'clock this morning by Levick
demanding the loan of my camera. It appears that Amundsen, Johansen and
six men had arrived at the Fram this morning at about 6.30 A.M., and had
come over to interview Campbell and Pennell. Campbell, Pennell and Levick
then went back to breakfast with them and stayed until nearly noon when
they returned telling us to expect Amundsen, Nilsen, the first lieutenant
of the Fram who is taking her back after landing the party, and a young
lieutenant whose name none of us caught, to lunch. After lunch a party of
officers and men went to see the rest of the Norwegians, see over the
ship, and say good-bye. I did not go and was able to show Lieut. Jensen
over the ship in the meantime. About three o'clock we let go the ice
anchor and parted from the Fram, steaming along the ice very slowly in
order to dredge from 190 to 300 fathoms. The haul was successful, about
two bucketsful of the muddy bottom being secured, and a still more
valuable catch from the biological point of view were two long crinoids,
about a couple of feet in length and in fairly perfect condition, which
had become attached to the outside of the net.

"We are now standing along the Barrier continuing our survey to the bight
we first struck, after which we sail to Cape Evans, stay a day there and
then make up North to try and effect a lodgment on the coast beyond Cape
Adare.

"During the morning Browning and I examined the ice-face forming the
eastern face of the bight. We found it to be made of clear ice of grain
from a quarter to three-eighths of an inch in size and full of bubbles.

"On the way there I took a couple of photographs of some of Amundsen's
dogs, and when we were there I got a few of crevasses and caves in the
Barrier face.

"Well! we have left the Norwegians and our thoughts are full, too full,
of them at present. The impression they have left with me is that of a
set of men of distinctive personality, hard, and evidently inured to
hardship, good goers and pleasant and good-humoured. All these qualities
combine to make them very dangerous rivals, but even did one want not to,
one cannot help liking them individually in spite of the rivalry.

"One thing I have particularly noticed is the way in which they are
refraining from getting information from us which might be useful to
them. We have news which will make the Western Party as uneasy as
ourselves and the world will watch with interest a race for the Pole next
year, a race which may go any way, and may be decided by luck or by
dogged energy and perseverance on either side.

"The Norwegians are in dangerous winter quarters, for the ice is breaking
out rapidly from the Bay of Whales which they believe to be
Borchgrevink's Bight, and they are camped directly in front of a distinct
line of weakness. On the other hand if they get through the winter safely
(and they are aware of their danger), they have unlimited dogs, the
energy of a nation as northern as ourselves, and experience with
snow-travelling that could be beaten by no collection of men in the
world.

"There remains the Beardmore Glacier. Can their dogs face it, and if so,
who will get there first. One thing I feel and that is that our Southern
Party will go far before they permit themselves to be beaten by any one,
and I think that two parties are very likely to reach the Pole next year,
but God only knows which will get there first.

"A few of the things we learnt about the Norwegians are as follows:

"The engines of the Fram occupy only half the size of our wardroom, the
petrol tanks have not needed replenishment since they left Norway, and
their propeller can be lifted by three men. They kept fresh potatoes from
Norway to the Barrier. (Some of them must surely be renegade Irishmen.)
They have each a separate cabin 'tween-decks in the Fram, and are very
comfortable. They are using for transporting their stores to the hut,
eight teams of five dogs each, working every alternate day.

"They intend to use for the Polar Journey teams of ten dogs, each team
working one day out of two. Their dogs stop at a whistle, and if they
make a break they can be stopped by overturning the sledge, empty or full
as the case may be. They are nine in the shore party and ten in the ship.
Their ship is going back to Buenos Ayres with Nilsen in charge and during
the winter is to encircle the world, sounding all the way.

"They are not starting on the dash South this year and do not yet know
whether they will lay depots this year. They have 116 dogs and ten of
these are bitches, so that they can rear pups, and have done so very
successfully on the way out. The Fram acts like a cork in the sea; she
rolls tremendously but does not ship water, and during the voyage they
have had the dogs running loose about the decks. There is a lot more
miscellaneous information, but I may remember it more coherently a little
later when the main impressions of the rencontre are a little more
faint."[119]

It will be seen that Priestley missed three points. First, he was left
with a conventional but very erroneous impression of Amundsen as a blunt
Norwegian sailor, not in the least an intellectual. Second, he thought
Amundsen had camped on the ice and not on terra firma. Third, he thought
Amundsen was going to the Pole by the old route over the Beardmore. The
truth was that Amundsen was an explorer of the markedly intellectual
type, rather Jewish than Scandinavian, who had proved his sagacity by
discovering solid footing for the winter by pure judgment. For the
moment, let it be confessed, we all underrated Amundsen, and could not
shake off the feeling that he had stolen a march on us.

Back to McMurdo Sound, and the news left at Hut Point. Then the two
ponies which had been allotted to Campbell were swum ashore at Cape
Evans, since he thought that now they would be of more use to Scott than
to himself. Subsequent events proved the extreme usefulness of this
unselfish act. The Terra Nova would steam north and try and land
Campbell's party on the extreme northern shores of Queen Victoria Land.
At the same time there was so little coal left that it might be necessary
to go straight back to New Zealand. Campbell regretted not being able to
see Scott, supposing that the altered circumstances caused Scott to wish
to rearrange his parties, and also because Amundsen had asked Campbell to
land his party at the Bay of Whales, giving him the area to the east to
explore, and Campbell did not wish to accept before getting Scott's
permission.

As we know now coal ran so short that it came to an alternative of
dumping Campbell, his men and gear hastily on the beach at Cape Adare, or
taking them back to New Zealand. As one member of the crew said:
"Exploring is all very well in its way, but it is a thing which can be
very easily overdone." The ship was as ready to get rid of them as they
were to get rid of the ship. They were landed, working to their waists in
the surf, and the ship got safely back to New Zealand.

Scott decided that the period of waiting until the pony party arrived
from One Ton should be employed in sledging stores out to Corner Camp.
But the dog-teams were done, "the dogs are thin as rakes; they are
ravenous and very tired. I feel this should not be, and that it is
evident that they are underfed. The ration must be increased next year
and we must have some properly-thought-out diet. The biscuit alone is not
good enough."[120] In addition, several dogs were feeling the effects of
injuries due to the crevasse incident. There remained the men and the one
pony which had survived out of the three sent back from Bluff Depot,
namely Jimmy Pigg.

The party started on Friday, February 24, marching by day. It consisted
of Scott, Crean and myself with one sledge and tent, Lieutenant Evans,
Atkinson and Forde with a second sledge and tent, and Keohane leading
James Pigg. On the second night out we saw the pony party pass us in the
distance on their way to Safety Camp.[121] At Corner Camp Scott decided
to leave Lieutenant Evans' party to come in with the pony more slowly,
and himself to push on with Crean and myself at top speed for Safety
Camp. We made a forced march well into the night, doing twenty-six miles
for the day, and camped some ten miles from Safety Camp, where the pony
party must by this time have arrived.

The events which followed were disastrous, and the steps which led to a
catastrophe which entailed the loss of much of our best transport, and
only by a miracle did not lead to the loss of several lives, were
complicated. At this moment, the night of February 26, there were three
parties on the Barrier. Behind Scott was Lieutenant Evans' party and the
pony, James Pigg. Scott himself was camped within easy marching distance
of Safety Camp with Crean and myself. At Safety Camp were the two
dog-teams with Wilson and Meares, while the pony party from One Ton Depot
had just arrived with five ponies which were for the most part thin,
hungry and worn. Between Safety Camp and Hut Point lay the frozen sea,
which might or might not break up this year, but we knew from our
observations a few days before that the ice was in a shaky condition. At
that time the ice sheet extended some seven miles to the north of Hut
Point. The season was fast closing in: temperatures of fifty or sixty
degrees of frost had been common for the last fortnight, and this was bad
for the ponies. We had been unfortunate in having several severe
blizzards, and it was already clear that it was these autumn blizzards
more than cold temperatures and soft surfaces which the ponies could not
endure. Scott was most anxious to get the animals into such shelter as we
could make for them at Hut Point.

The next morning, February 27, we woke to a regular cold autumn
blizzard--very thick, wind force 9 and temperature about minus twenty.
This was disheartening, and indeed with our six worn ponies still on the
Barrier the outlook for them was discouraging. The blizzard came to an
end the next morning. Scott must take up the first part of that day's
story:

"Packed up at 6 A.M. and marched into Safety Camp. Found every one very
cold and depressed. Wilson and Meares had had continuous bad weather
since we left, Bowers and Oates since their arrival. The blizzard had
raged for two days. The animals looked in a sorry condition, but all were
alive. The wind blew keen and cold from the east. There could be no
advantage in waiting here, and soon all arrangements were made for a
general shift to Hut Point. Packing took a long time. The snowfall had
been prodigious, and parts of the sledges were 3 or 4 feet under drift.
About 4 o'clock the two dog-teams got safely away. Then the pony party
prepared to go. As the cloths were stript from the ponies the ravages of
the blizzard became evident. The animals, without exception, were
terribly emaciated, and Weary Willie was in a pitiable condition.

"The plan was for the ponies to follow the dog tracks, our small party to
start last and get in front of the ponies on the sea-ice. I was very
anxious about the sea-ice passage owing to the spread of the water
holes."[122]

The two dog-teams left with Meares and Wilson some time before the
ponies, and for the moment they go out of this story.

Bowers' pony, Uncle Bill, was ready first, and he started with him. We
got three more ponies harnessed, Punch, Nobby and Guts, and tried to
harness Weary Willie, but when we attempted to lead him forward he
immediately fell down.

Scott rapidly reorganized. He sent Crean and me forward with the three
better ponies to join Bowers, now waiting a mile ahead. Oates and Gran he
kept with himself, to try and help the sick pony. His diary tells how "we
made desperate efforts to save the poor creature, got him once more on
his legs, gave him a hot oat mash. Then, after a wait of an hour, Oates
led him off, and we packed the sledge and followed on ski; 500 yards from
the camp the poor creature fell again and I felt it was the last effort.
We camped, built a snow wall round him, and did all we possibly could to
get him on his feet. Every effort was fruitless, though the poor thing
made pitiful struggles. Towards midnight we propped him up as
comfortably as we could and went to bed.

"Wednesday, March 1. A.M. Our pony died in the night. It is hard to have
got him back so far only for this. It is clear that these blizzards are
terrible for the poor animals. Their coats are not good, but even with
the best of coats it is certain they would lose condition badly if caught
in one, and we cannot afford to lose condition at the beginning of a
journey. It makes a late start necessary for next year.

"Well, we have done our best and bought our experience at a heavy cost.
Now every effort must be bent on saving the remaining animals."[123]

A letter from Bowers home, which certainly does not overstate the
adventures of himself and the two men sent forward to join him, is
probably the best description of the incidents which followed. It will be
remembered that Crean and I with three ponies were sent from Safety Camp
to join him: he was already leading one pony. Night was beginning to
fall, and the light was bad, but from the edge of the Barrier the two
dog-teams could still be seen as black dots in the distance towards Cape
Armitage.

"On the night of February 28 I led off with my pony and was surprised at
the delay in the others leaving--knowing nothing of Weary's collapse.
Over the edge of the Barrier I went, and at the bottom of the snow
incline awaited the others. To my surprise Cherry and Crean appeared with
Punch, Nobby and Guts in a string, and then I heard the reason for Oates
and Scott not having come on. My orders were to push on to Hut Point over
the sea-ice without delay, and to follow the dogs; previously I had been
told to camp on the sea-ice only in case of the beasts being unable to go
on. We had four pretty heavy sledges, as we were taking six weeks' man
food and oil to the hut, as well as a lot of gear from the depot, and
pony food, etc. Unfortunately the dogs misunderstood their orders and,
instead of piloting us, dashed off on their own. We saw them like specks
in the distance in the direction of the old seal crack. Having crossed
this they wheeled to the right in the direction of Cape Armitage and
disappeared into a black indefinite mist, which seemed to pervade
everything in that direction. We heard afterwards that in a mile or two
they came to some alarming signs and, turning, made for the Gap where
they got up on to the land about midnight.

"I plugged on in their tracks, till we came to the seal crack which was
an old pressure-ridge running many miles S.W. from Pram Point. We
considered the ice behind this crack--over which we had just come--fast
ice; it was older ice than that beyond, as it had undoubtedly frozen over
first. Having crossed the crack we streaked on for Cape Armitage. The
animals were going badly, owing to the effects of the blizzard, and
frequent stoppages were necessary. On coming to some shaky ice we headed
farther west as there were always some bad places off the cape, and I
thought it better to make a good circuit. Crean, who had been over the
ice recently, told me it was all right farther round. However, about a
mile farther on I began to have misgivings; the cracks became too
frequent to be pleasant, and although the ice was from five to ten feet
thick, one does not like to see water squelching between them, as we did
later. It spells motion, and motion on sea-ice means breakage. I shoved
on in the hope of getting on better ice round the cape, but at last came
a moving crack, and that decided me to turn back. We could see nothing
owing to the black mist, everything looked solid as ever, but I knew
enough to mistrust moving ice, however solid it seemed. It was a beastly
march back: dark, gloomy and depressing. The beasts got more and more
down in their spirits and stopped so frequently that I thought we would
never reach the seal crack. I said to Cherry, however, that I would take
no risks, and camp well over the other side on the old sound ice if we
could get there. This we managed to do eventually. Here there was soft
snow, whereas on the sea side of the crack it was hard: that is the
reason we lost the dogs' tracks at once on crossing. Even over this crack
I thought it best to march as far in as possible. We got well into the
bay, as far as our exhausted ponies would drag, before I camped and
threw up the walls, fed the beasts, and retired to feed ourselves. We had
only the primus with the missing cap and it took over 11/2 hours to heat up
the water; however, we had a cup of pemmican. It was very dark, and I
mistook a small bag of curry powder for the cocoa bag, and made cocoa
with that, mixed with sugar; Crean drank his right down before
discovering anything was wrong. It was 2 P.M. before we were ready to
turn in. I went out and saw everything quiet: the mist still hung to the
west, but you could see a good mile and all was still. The sky was very
dark over the Strait though, the unmistakable sign of open water. I
turned in. Two and a half hours later I awoke, hearing a noise. Both my
companions were snoring, I thought it was that and was on the point of
turning in again having seen that it was only 4.30, when I heard the
noise again. I thought--'my pony is at the oats!' and went out.

"I cannot describe either the scene or my feelings. I must leave those to
your imagination. We were in the middle of a floating pack of broken-up
ice. The tops of the hills were visible, but all below was thin mist and
as far as the eye could see there was nothing solid; it was all broken
up, and heaving up and down with the swell. Long black tongues of water
were everywhere. The floe on which we were had split right under our
picketing line, and cut poor Guts' wall in half. Guts himself had gone,
and a dark streak of water alone showed the place where the ice had
opened under him. The two sledges securing the other end of the line were
on the next floe and had been pulled right to the edge. Our camp was on a
floe not more than 30 yards across. I shouted to Cherry and Crean, and
rushed out in my socks to save the two sledges; the two floes were
touching farther on and I dragged them to this place and got them on to
our floe. At that moment our own floe split in two, but we were all
together on one piece. I then got my finnesko on, remarking that we had
been in a few tight places, but this was about the limit. I have been
told since that I was quixotic not to leave everything and make for
safety. You will understand, however, that I never for one moment
considered the abandonment of anything.

"We packed up camp and harnessed up our ponies in remarkably quick time.
When ready to move I had to decide which way to go. Obviously towards
Cape Armitage was impossible, and to the eastward also, as the wind was
from that direction, and we were already floating west towards the open
sound. Our only hope lay to the south, and thither I went. We found the
ponies would jump the intervals well. At least Punch would and the other
two would follow him. My idea was never to separate, but to get
everything on to one floe at a time; and then wait till it touched or
nearly touched another in the right direction, and then jump the ponies
over and drag the four sledges across ourselves. In this way we made
slow, but sure progress. While one was acting all was well, the waiting
for a lead to close was the worst trial. Sometimes it would take 10
minutes or more, but there was so much motion in the ice that sooner or
later bump you would go against another piece, and then it was up and
over. Sometimes they split, sometimes they bounced back so quickly that
only one horse could get over, and then we had to wait again. We had to
make frequent detours and were moving west all the time with the pack,
still we were getting south, too.

"Very little was said. Crean like most bluejackets behaved as if he had
done this sort of thing often before. Cherry, the practical, after an
hour or two dug out some chocolate and biscuit, during one of our
enforced waits, and distributed it. I felt at that time that food was the
last thing on earth I wanted, and put it in my pocket; in less than half
an hour, though, I had eaten the lot. The ponies behaved as well as my
companions, and jumped the floes in great style. After getting them on a
new floe we simply left them, and there they stood chewing at each
others' head ropes or harness till we were over with the sledges and
ready to take them on again. Their implicit trust in us was touching to
behold. A 12-feet sledge makes an excellent bridge if an opening is too
wide to jump. After some hours we saw fast ice ahead, and thanked God for
it. Meanwhile a further unpleasantness occurred in the arrival of a host
of the terrible 'killer' whales. These were reaping a harvest of seal in
the broken-up ice, and cruised among the floes with their immense black
fins sticking up, and blowing with a terrific roar. The Killer is
scientifically known as the Orca, and, though far smaller than the sperm
and other large whales, is a much more dangerous animal. He is armed with
a huge iron jaw and great blunt socket teeth. Killers act in concert,
too, and, as you may remember, nearly got Ponting when we were unloading
the ship, by pressing up the thin ice from beneath and splitting it in
all directions.

"It took us over six hours to get close to the fast ice, which proved to
be the Barrier, some immense chunks of which we actually saw break off
and join the pack. Close in, the motion was less owing to the jambing up
of the ice somewhere farther west. We had only just cleared the Strait in
time though, as all the ice in the centre, released beyond Cape Armitage,
headed off into the middle of the Strait, and thence to the Ross Sea. Our
spirits rose as we neared the Barrier edge, and I made for a big sloping
floe which I expected would be touching; at any rate I anticipated no
difficulty. We rushed up the slope towards safety, and were little
prepared for the scene that met our eyes at the top. All along the
Barrier face a broad lane of water from thirty to forty feet wide
extended. This was filled with smashed-up brash ice, which was heaving up
and down to the swell like the contents of a cauldron. Killers were
cruising there with fiendish activity, and the Barrier edge was a sheer
cliff of ice on the other side fifteen to twenty feet high. It was a case
of so near and yet so far. Suddenly our great sloping floe calved in two,
so we beat a hasty retreat. I selected a sound-looking floe just clear of
this turmoil, that was at least ten feet thick, and fairly rounded, with
a flat surface. Here we collected everything and having done all that man
could do, we fed the beasts and took counsel.

"Cherry and Crean both volunteered to do anything, in the spirit they had
shown right through. It appeared of first necessity to communicate with
Captain Scott. I guessed his anxiety on our behalf, and, as we could do
nothing more, we wanted help of some sort. It occurred to me that a man
working up to windward along the Barrier face might happen upon a floe
touching [the Barrier]. It was obviously impossible to take ponies up
there anywhere, but an active man might wait his opportunity. Going to
windward, too, he could always retreat on to our floe, as the ice was
being pushed together in our direction. The next consideration was, whom
to send. To go myself was out of the question. The problem was whether to
send one, or both, my companions. As my object was to save the animals
and gear, it appeared to me that one man remaining would be helpless in
the event of the floe splitting up, as he would be busy saving himself. I
therefore decided to send one only. This would have to be Crean, as
Cherry, who wears glasses, could not see so well. Both volunteered, but
as I say, I thought out all the pros and cons and sent Crean, knowing
that, at the worst, he could get back to us at any time. I sent a note to
Captain Scott, and, stuffing Crean's pockets with food, we saw him
depart.

"Practical Cherry suggested pitching the tent as a mark of our
whereabouts, and having done this I mounted the theodolite to watch Crean
through the telescope. The rise and fall of the floe made this difficult,
especially as a number of Emperor penguins came up and looked just like
men in the distance. Fortunately the sunlight cleared the frost smoke,
and as it fell calm our westerly motion began to decrease. The swell
started to go down. Outside us in the centre of the Strait all the ice
had gone out, and open water remained. We were one of a line of loose
floes floating near the Barrier edge. Crean was hours moving to and fro
before I had the satisfaction of seeing him up on the Barrier. I said:
'Thank God one of us is out of the wood, anyhow.'

"It was not a pleasant day that Cherry and I spent all alone there,
knowing as we did that it only wanted a zephyr from the south to send us
irretrievably out to sea; still there is satisfaction in knowing that one
has done one's utmost, and I felt that having been delivered so
wonderfully so far, the same Hand would not forsake us at the last.

"We gave the ponies all they could eat that day. The Killers were too
interested in us to be pleasant. They had a habit of bobbing up and down
perpendicularly, so as to see over the edge of a floe, in looking for
seals. The huge black and yellow heads with sickening pig eyes only a few
yards from us at times, and always around us, are among the most
disconcerting recollections I have of that day. The immense fins were bad
enough, but when they started a perpendicular dodge they were positively
beastly. As the day wore on skua gulls, looking upon us as certain
carrion, settled down comfortably near us to await developments. The
swell, however, was getting less and less and it resolved itself into a
question of speed, as to whether the wind or Captain Scott would reach us
first.

"Crean had got up into the Barrier at great risks to himself as I
gathered afterwards from his very modest account. He had reached Captain
Scott some time after his [Scott's] meeting with Wilson.[124] I heard
that at the time Captain Scott was very angry with me for not abandoning
everything and getting away safely myself. For my own part I must say
that the abandoning of the ponies was the one thing that had never
entered my head. It was a long way round, but at 7 P.M. he arrived at the
edge of the Barrier opposite us with Oates and Crean. Everything was
still, and Cherry and I could have got on safe ice at any time during the
last half hour by using the sledge as a ladder. A big overturned fragment
had jambed in the lane, between a high floe and the Barrier edge, and,
there being no wind, it remained there. However, there was the
consideration of the ponies, so we waited.

"Scott, instead of blowing me up, was too relieved at our safety to be
anything but pleased. I said: 'What about the ponies and the sledges?' He
said: 'I don't care a damn about the ponies and sledges. It's you I want,
and I am going to see you safe here up on the Barrier before I do
anything else.' Cherry and I had got everything ready, so, dragging up
two sledges, we dumped the gear off them, and using them as ladders, one
down from the berg on to the buffer piece of ice, and the other up to the
top of the Barrier, we got up without difficulty. Captain Scott was so
pleased, that I realized the feeling he must have had all day. He had
been blaming himself for our deaths, and here we were very much alive. He
said: 'My dear chaps, you can't think how glad I am to see you
safe--Cherry likewise.'

"I was all for saving the beasts and sledges, however, so he let us go
back and haul the sledges on to the nearest floe. We did this one by one
and brought the ponies along, while Titus dug down a slope from the
Barrier edge in the hope of getting the ponies up it. Scott knew more
about ice than any of us, and realizing the danger we didn't, still
wanted to abandon things. I fought for my point tooth and nail, and got