him to concede one article and then another, and still the ice did not
move till we had thrown and hauled up every article on to the Barrier
except the two ladders and the ponies.

*       *       *       *       *

"To my intense disappointment at this juncture the ice started to move
again. Titus had been digging down a road in the Barrier edge, and I
hoped to dig down a similar slope from the floe, the snow thus shovelled
down would go over the blue ice chunk, cover up the slippery ice and
level it up. It would have taken hours, but was the only chance of
getting the animals up. We dug like fury until Captain Scott peremptorily
ordered us up. I ran up on the floe and took the nosebags off the ponies
before we got on to the Barrier, and hauled the sledges up. It was only
just in time. There was the faintest south-easterly air, but, like a
black snake, the lane of water stretched between the ponies and
ourselves. It widened almost imperceptibly, 2 feet, 6 feet, 10 feet, 20
feet, and, sick as we were about the ponies, we were glad to be on the
safe side of that.

"We dragged the sledges in a little way, and, leaving them, pitched the
two tents half a mile farther in, for bits of the Barrier were
continually calving. While supper (it was about 3 A.M.) was being cooked,
Scott and I walked down again. The wind had gone to the east, and all the
ice was under weigh. A lane 70 feet wide extended along the Barrier edge,
and Killers were chasing up and down it like racehorses. Our three
unfortunate beasts were some way out, sailing parallel to the Barrier. We
returned, and if ever one could feel miserable I did then. My feelings
were nothing to what poor Captain Scott had had to endure that day. I at
once broached the hopeful side of the subject, remarking that, with the
two Campbell had left, we had ten ponies at Winter quarters. He said,
however, that he had no confidence whatever in the motors after the way
their rollers had become messed up unloading the ship. He had had his
confidence in the dogs much shaken on the return journey, and now he had
lost the most solid asset--the best of his pony transport. He said: 'Of
course we shall have a run for our money next season, but as far as the
Pole is concerned I have but very little hope.' We had a mournful meal,
but after the others turned in I went down again, and by striking across
diagonally came abreast of the ponies' floe, over a mile away. They were
moving west fast, but they saw me, and remained huddled together not the
least disturbed, or doubting that we would bring them their breakfast
nosebags as usual in the morning. Poor trustful creatures! If I could
have done it then, I would gladly have killed them rather than picture
them starving on that floe out on the Ross Sea, or eaten by the exultant
Killers that cruised around.

"After breakfast Captain Scott sent me to bring up the sledges. It was
dead calm again. Hope always springs, so I took his pair of glasses and
looked west from the Barrier edge. Nearly all the ice had gone, but a
medley of floes had been hurled up against a long point of Barrier much
farther west. To my delight I saw three green specks on one of these--the
pony rugs--and all four of us legged it back to the tent to tell Captain
Scott. We were soon off over the Barrier. It was a long way, but we had a
tent and some food. Crean had a bad day of snow-blindness, and could see
absolutely nothing. So, on arrival at the place, we pitched the tent and
left him there. The ponies were in a much worse place than the day
before, but the ice was still there, and some floes actually touched the
Barrier.

"After our recent experience Captain Scott would only let us go on
condition that as soon as he gave the order we were to drop everything
and run for the Barrier. I was in a feverish hurry, and with Titus and
Cherry selected a possible route over about six floes, and some low brash
ice. The hardest jump was the first one, but it was nothing to what they
had done the day before, so we put Punch at it. Why he hung fire I cannot
think,[125] but he did, at the very edge, and the next moment was in the
water. I will draw a veil over our struggle to get the plucky little pony
out. We could not manage it, and Titus had at last to put an end to his
struggles with a pick.

"There was now my pony and Nobby. We abandoned that route, while Captain
Scott looked out another and longer one by going right out on the
sea-floes. This we decided on, if we could get the animals off their
present floe, which necessitated a good jump on any side. Captain Scott
said he would have no repetition of Punch's misfortune if he could help
it. He would rather kill them on the floe. Anyhow, we rushed old Nobby at
the jump, but he refused. It seemed no good, but I rushed him at it again
and again. Scott was for killing them [it should be remembered that this
ice, with the men on it, might drift away from the Barrier at any moment,
and then there might be no further chance of saving the men] but I was
not, and, pretending not to hear him, I rushed the old beast again. He
cleared it beautifully, and Titus, seizing the opportunity, ran my pony
at it with similar success. We then returned to the Barrier and worked
along westward till a suitable place for getting up was found. There
Scott and Cherry started digging a road, while Titus and I went out via
the sea-ice to get the ponies. We had an empty sledge as a bridge or
ladder, in case of emergency, and had to negotiate about forty floes to
reach the animals. It was pretty easy going, though, and we brought them
along with great success as far as the two nearest floes. At this place
the ice was jambed.

"Nobby cleared the last jump splendidly, when suddenly in the open water
pond on one side a school of over a dozen of the terrible whales arose.
This must have flurried my horse just as he was jumping, as instead of
going straight he jumped [sideways] and just missed the floe with his
hind legs. It was another horrible situation, but Scott rushed Nobby up
on the Barrier, while Titus, Cherry and I struggled with poor old Uncle
Bill. Why the whales did not come under the ice and attack him I cannot
say--perhaps they were full of seal, perhaps they were so engaged in
looking at us on the top of the floe that they forgot to look below;
anyhow, we got him safely as far as [the bottom of the Barrier cliff],
pulling him through the thin ice towards a low patch of brash.

"Captain Scott was afraid of something happening to us with those
devilish whales so close, and was for abandoning the horse right away. I
had no eyes or ears for anything but the horse just then, and getting on
to the thin brash ice got the Alpine rope fast to each of the pony's
forefeet. Crean was too blind to do anything but hold the rescued horse
on the Barrier, but the other four of us pulled might and main till we
got the old horse out and lying on his side. The brash ice was so thin
that, had a 'Killer' come up then he would have scattered it, and the lot
of us into the water like chaff. I was sick with disappointment when I
found that my horse could not rise. Titus said: 'He's done; we shall
never get him up alive.' The cold water and shock on top of all his
recent troubles, had been too much for the undefeated old sportsman. In
vain I tried to get him to his feet; three times he tried and then fell
over backwards into the water again. At that moment a new danger arose.
The whole piece of Barrier itself started to subside.

"It had evidently been broken before, and the tide was doing the rest. We
were ordered up and it certainly was all too necessary; still Titus and I
hung over the old Uncle Bill's head. I said: 'I can't leave him to be
eaten alive by those whales.' There was a pick lying up on the floe.
Titus said: 'I shall be sick if I have to kill another horse like I did
the last.' I had no intention that anybody should kill my own horse but
myself, and getting the pick I struck where Titus told me. I made sure of
my job before we ran up and jumped the opening in the Barrier, carrying a
blood-stained pick-axe instead of leading the pony I had almost
considered safe.

"We returned to our old camp that night (March 2) with Nobby, the only
one saved of the five that left One Ton Depot. I was fearfully cut up
about my pony and Punch, but it was better than last night; we knew they
would not have to starve and that all their troubles were now at an end.
Before supper I went for a walk along the Barrier with Scott, and the
next day we started back. We left one tent, two sledges and a lot of gear
as Nobby could only pull two light sledges, and we could not pull an
excessive weight on that bad surface. As it was we had over 800 lbs. on
the sledge when we left. It was a glaring day with the surface soft and
sandy, a combination of unpleasant circumstances. It took five hours to
drag as far as the place we had originally gone down on to the sea-ice
from the Barrier.

"Evans and his party should now have arrived from Corner Camp, and as
Captain Scott wanted to see if they had left a note at Safety Camp, I
walked up there while the tea was being brewed. It was about 11/4 miles
away, and I found traces of the party in the snow, but no note. It fed me
up to see the walls so recently occupied by our ponies, and I was glad to
leave. The afternoon march was interminable; it seemed as if we would
never reach the coast. At last we came to the Pram Point Pressure Ridges
where the Barrier joins the peninsula to eastward of Cape Armitage. They
are waves of ice up to 20 feet in height running along parallel to each
other with a valley in between each, and are only crevassed badly at the
outer end as far as we have seen, though there are smaller crevasses
right along. We camped in one of these valleys about 9.30 P.M.; I was
thoroughly tired, so I think was everybody else. We were about a mile
from the ice edge; and the problem was where to get Nobby up the
precipitous slopes. This was solved by the arrival of Evans, Atkinson,
Forde and Keohane about midnight. They had seen us coming in from the
heights, and had come down for news. Teddy Evans had arrived the day
before, and, being warned off the Barrier edge by a note left by Captain
Scott, had made for the land with his party, and one horse Jimmy Pigg. He
had found a good way up a mile or so farther east, almost under Castle
Rock. He had walked to Hut Point with Atkinson the next day and heard of
the loss of Cherry, myself and the animals from Bill Wilson and Meares
who had been left there to look after their teams. I hadn't seen Atkinson
for quite a while when we met this time.

"The next day we relayed the sledges up the slope which was about 700
feet high rising from a small bay. It was so steep that the pony could
only be led up and we had to put on crampons to grip the ice. These are
merely a sole of leather with light metal plates for foot and heel
containing spikes. [These were altered afterwards.] They have leather
beckets and a lanyard rove off for making them fast over the finnesko. It
took us all the morning to get everything up to the top and then it
started to blow. The camp was wonderfully sheltered. Jimmy Pigg and Nobby
were reunited after many weeks, and to show their friendliness the former
bit the latter in the back of the neck as a first introduction. Atkinson
had gone to Hut Point to reassure Uncle Bill as to our safety and arrived
again with Gran just as we got the last load up. There was no sugar at
the hut except what the dogs had brought in, so Gran, who was quite
fresh, volunteered to get a couple of bags from the depot at Safety Camp,
which could plainly be seen out on the Barrier. We all went to the edge
of the slope to see him go down it on ski. He did it splendidly and must
have been going with the speed of an express train down the incline, as
he was on the Barrier in an incredibly short time compared to the hours
we had dragged up the same slope with the loads. Teddy, Titus and Keohane
were left at the camp to be joined by Gran later. Scott started off for
Hut Point with Crean and Cherry on his sledge, while I followed with
Forde and Atkinson. The others helped us up several hundred feet of slope
and left us under Castle Rock.

"It was here that they mistook their way in the blizzard and lost a man
from the Discovery. Though it was fine below it was blowing like anything
on the heights. I was too busily occupied to see much of the hills and
snow-slopes which I got to know so well later. It was about three miles
direct to the hut, but very up and down hill. At the last, however, you
see the Bay in panorama with Cape Armitage on one side, and Hut Point on
the other, where the Discovery lay two whole years. It is a magnificent
view from the heights and for wild desolate grandeur would take some
beating; the Western Mountains and the great dome of Mount Discovery
across the black strait of water, covered with dark frost smoke, and here
and there an iceberg driving fast towards the sea. About half a mile
below us was the little hut and, on the left, the 800-feet pyramid of
Observation Hill. It is a perfect chaos of hills and extinct craters just
here.

"It was blowing like fun. We left one sledge on the top of ski-slope and
just took what was necessary on the other, such as our bags, etc. It was
my first experience of steep downhill sledging. Instead of anybody
pulling forward we all had to hang back and guide the sledge down the
slippery incline without letting it take charge or getting upset. It is
great fun. On reaching the head of the Bay, however, we had quite a
dangerous little bit to cross. Here it was swept of snow and there was
nothing but glassy ice and the incline ended in a low ice-cliff with the
water below it. Attached as we were to the sledge we should have been at
a disadvantage had it come to swimming, which a slip might easily have
brought about. We scratched carefully across this and then headed down on
the snow, arriving at the hut all well. The old hut had changed
tremendously since I last saw it, having been dug out and cleared of snow
and ice. Two unrecognizable sweeps greeted us heartily, they were Bill
and Meares; the dogs howled a chorus for our benefit; it was quite like
coming home. Inside the hut, the cause of the blackness was apparent,
they had a blubber fire going, an open one, with no chimney or uptake for
the smoke. After such a long open-air life it fairly choked me, and for
once I could not eat a square meal. We all slept in a row against the
west wall of the hut with our feet inboard.

"The next morning Captain Scott, Bill, Cherry and I set out to walk to
Castle Rock and meet the other party. It was fairly fizzing from the sea,
but clear. Once up on the Heights, however, we seemed to get less wind. A
couple of hours later we were at the great rock, Castle Rock, which is
one of the best landmarks about here. The party in the Saddle Camp had
relayed two of the sledges up the slope; these we hauled on to the top
while the two ponies were harnessed and brought up. There were three
sledges left to take on altogether, so the ponies took one each and we
the other. Meanwhile Captain Scott walked over the shoulder under Castle
Rock to see down the Strait and came back with the intelligence that he
could hardly believe his eyes, but half the Glacier Tongue had broken off
and disappeared. This great Tongue of ice had stood there on arrival of
the Discovery, ten years before, and had remained ever since; it had a
depot of Shackleton's on it, and Campbell had depoted his fodder on it
for us. On the eventful night of the break-up of the ice at least three
miles of the Tongue which had been considered practically terra firma had
gone, after having been there probably for centuries. We headed for the
hut: Bill had looked out a route for the ponies, to avoid slippery
places. It started to bliz, but was not too thick for us to see our
bearings. At the top of Ski Slope the ponies were taken out of the
sledges and led down a circuitous route over the rocks. The rest of us
put everything we wanted on one sledge and leaving the others up there
went down the slope as before. The two ponies arrived before us and were
stabled in the verandah.

"That night for the first time since the establishment of Safety Camp the
depot party were all together again, minus six ponies. In concluding my
report to Captain Scott on the 'floe' incident, which he asked me to set
down long afterwards, I said, 'In reconsidering the foregoing I have come
to the conclusion that I underestimated the danger signs on the sea-ice
on February 28, and on the following day might have attached more
importance to the safety of my companions. As it was, however, all
circumstances seemed to conspire together to make the situation
unavoidable.' I did not forget to mention the splendid behaviour of
Cherry and Crean, and, for my own part, I have no regrets. I took the
blame for my lack of experience, but knew that having done everything I
could do, it did not concern me if anybody liked to criticize my action.
My own opinion is that it just had to be, the circumstances leading to it
were too devious for mere coincidence. Six hours earlier we could have
walked to the hut on sound sea-ice. A few hours later we should have seen
open water on arrival at the Barrier edge. The blizzard that knocked out
the beasts, the death of Weary, the misunderstanding of the dogs,
everything, fitted in to place us on the sea-ice during the only two
hours of the whole year that we could possibly have been in such a
position. Let those who believe in coincidence carry on believing. Nobody
will ever convince me that there was not something more. Perhaps in the
light of next year we shall see what was meant by such an apparent blow
to our hopes. Certainly we shall start for the Pole with less of that
foolish spirit of blatant boast and ridiculous blind self-assurance, that
characterized some of us on leaving Cardiff.

"Poor Captain Scott had now a new anxiety thrust upon him. The Winter
Station with ponies, stores and motors was all situated on a low beach
not twenty yards from the water's edge, and now that the ice had gone out
(and the hut was not six feet above sea-level at the floor) how had they
fared in the storm? This was a problem we could not solve without going
to see. Cape Evans, though dimly in sight, was as far off as New Zealand
till the sea froze over. The idea of attempting the shoulder of Erebus
did occur to Captain Scott, but it was so heavily crevassed as to make a
journey from our side almost impossible. On the other side Professor
David's party got up to the Summit without finding a crevasse. Captain
Scott took his reverses like a brick. I often went out for a walk with
him and sometimes he discussed his plans for next season. He took his
losses very philosophically and never blamed any of us."

*       *       *       *       *

This is the end of that part of Bowers' letter which deals with the
incident. Crean told me afterwards how he got on to the Barrier. He first
made for the Gap, following the best path of the ice, but then had to
retrace his steps and make for White Island jumping from floe to floe.
But then "I was pretty lively," said he: and "there were lots of penguins
and seals and killers knocking round that day."

Crean had one of the ski sticks and that "was a great help to me for
getting over the floes. It was a sloping piece like what you were on and
it was very near touching the Barrier, in one corner of it only. Well, I
dug a hole with the ski stick in the side of the Barrier for a step for
one foot, and when I finished the hole I straddled my legs and got one on
the floe and one in the side of the Barrier. Then I got the stick and dug
it in on top and I gave myself a bit of a spring and got my outside leg
up top. It was a terrible place but I thought it was the only chance.

"I made straight for Safety Camp and they must have spotted me: for I
think it was Gran that met me on skis. Then Scott and Wilson and Oates
met me a long way out: I explained how it happened. He was
worried-looking a bit, but he never said anything out of the way. He told
Oates to go inside and light the primus and give me a meal."

A more detailed account of the behaviour of the hundreds of whales which
infested the lanes of open water between the broken floes and calved
bergs is of interest. Most of them at any rate were Killer whales (Orca
gladiator), and they were cruising about in great numbers, snorting and
blowing, while occasionally they would in some extraordinary way raise
themselves and look about over the ice, resting the fore part of their
enormous yellow and black bodies on the edge of the floes. They were
undisguisedly interested in us and the ponies, and we felt that if we
once got into the water our ends would be swift and bloody.

But I have a very distinct recollection that the whales were not all
Killers, and that some, at any rate, were Bottle-nosed whales. This was
impressed upon me by one of the most dramatic moments of that night and
day.

We made our way very slowly, sometimes waiting twenty minutes for the
floe on which we were to touch the next one in the direction we were
trying to go, but before us in the distance was a region of sea-ice which
appeared to slope gradually up on to the fast Barrier beyond. As we got
nearer we saw a dark line appear at intervals between the two. This we
considered was a crevasse at the edge of the Barrier which was opening
and shutting with the very big swell which was running, and on which all
the floes were bobbing up and down. We told one another that we could
rush the ponies over this as it closed.

We approached the Barrier and began to rise up on the sloping floes which
had edged the Barrier and so on to small bergs which had calved from the
Barrier itself. Leaving Crean with the ponies, Bowers and I went forward
to prospect, and rose on to a berg from which we hoped to reach the
Barrier.

I can never forget the scene that met us. Between us and the Barrier was
a lane of some fifty yards wide, a seething cauldron. Bergs were calving
off as we watched: and capsizing: and hitting other bergs, splitting into
two and falling apart. The Killers filled the whole place. Looking
downwards into a hole between our berg and the next, a hole not bigger
than a small room, we saw at least six whales. They were so crowded that
they could only lie so as to get their snouts out of the water, and my
memory is that their snouts were bottle-nosed. At this moment our berg
split into two parts and we hastily retreated to the lower and safer
floes.

Now in the Zoological Report of the Discovery Expedition Wilson states
that the true identity of the Bottle-nosed whale (Hyperoodon rostrata) in
Antarctic Seas has not been conclusively established. But that inasmuch
as it certainly frequents seas so far as 48 deg. S. latitude it is probable
that certain whales which he and other members of that expedition saw
frequenting the edge of the ice were, as they appeared to be,
Bottle-nosed whales. For my part, without great knowledge of whales, I am
convinced that these whales which lay but twenty feet below us were
whales of this species.

After our rescue by Scott we pitched our tents, as has been described, at
least half a mile from the fast edge of the Barrier. All night long, or
as it really was, early morning, the Killers were snorting and blowing
under the Barrier, and sometimes, it seemed, under our tents. Time and
again some member of the party went out of the tent to see if the Barrier
had not broken farther back, but there was no visible change, and it must
have been that the apparently solid ice on which we were, was split up by
crevasses by the big swell which had been running, and that round us,
hidden by snow bridges, were leads of water in which whales were cruising
in search of seal.

The next day most of the ice had gone out to sea, and I do not think the
whales were so numerous. The most noticeable thing about them that day
was the organization shown by the band of whales which appeared after
Bowers' pony, Uncle Bill, had fallen between two floes, and we were
trying to get him towards the Barrier. "Good God, look at the whales,"
said some one, and there, in a pool of water behind the floe on which we
were working, lay twelve great whales in perfect line, facing the floe.
And out in front of them, like the captain of a company of soldiers, was
another. As we turned they dived as one whale, led by the big fellow in
front, and we certainly expected that they would attack the floe on which
we stood. Whether they never did so, or whether they tried and failed,
for the floes here were fifteen or sixteen feet thick, I do not know; we
never saw them again.

One other incident of those days is worth recalling. "Cherry, Crean,
we're floating out to sea," was the startling awakening from Bowers,
standing in his socks outside the tent at 4.30 A.M. that Wednesday
morning. And indeed at first sight on getting outside the tent it looked
a quite hopeless situation. I thought it was madness to try and save the
ponies and gear when, it seemed, the only chance at all of saving the men
was an immediate rush for the Barrier, and I said so. "Well, I'm going to
try," was Bowers' answer, and, quixotic or no, he largely succeeded. I
never knew a man who treated difficulties with such scorn.

*       *       *       *       *

There must be some of my companions who look back upon Hut Point with a
peculiar fondness, such as men get for places where they have experienced
great joys and great trials. And Hut Point has an atmosphere of its own.
I do not know what it is. Partly aesthetic, for the sea and great
mountains, and the glorious colour effects which prevail in spring and
autumn, would fascinate the least imaginative; partly mysterious, with
the Great Barrier knocking at your door, and the smoke of Erebus by day
and the curtain of Aurora by night; partly the associations of the
place--the old hut, the old landmarks, so familiar to those who know the
history of the Discovery Expedition, the stakes in the snow, the holes
for which ice was dug to water the ship, Vince's Cross on the Point. Now
there is another Cross, on Observation Hill.

And yet when we first arrived the hut was comfortless enough. Wilson and
Meares and Gran had been there some days; they had found some old bricks
and a grid, and there was an open blubber fire in the middle of the
floor. There was no outlet for the smoke and smuts and it was impossible
to see your neighbour, to speak without coughing, or to open your eyes
long before they began to smart. Atkinson and Crean had cleared the floor
of ice in our absence, but the space between the lower and upper roofs
was solid with blue ice, and the lower roof sagged down in places in a
dangerous way. The wind howled continuously and to say that the hut was
cold is a very mild expression of the reality.

This hut was built by the Discovery Expedition, who themselves lived in
the ship which lay off the shore frozen into the sea-ice, as a workroom
and as a refuge in case of shipwreck. It was useful to them in some ways,
but was too large to heat with the amount of coal available, and was
rather a white elephant. Scott wrote of it that "on the whole our large
hut has been and will be of use to us, but its uses are never likely to
be of such importance as to render it indispensable, nor cause it to be
said that circumstances have justified the outlay made on it, or the
expenditure of space and trouble in bringing it to its final home. It is
here now, however, and here it will stand for many a long year with such
supplies as will afford the necessaries of life to any less fortunate
party who may follow in our footsteps and be forced to search for food
and shelter."[126]

Well! It was to be more useful to Scott in 1910 to 1913 than he imagined
in 1902. We found the place with its verandah complete, the remains of
the two magnetic huts and a rubbish heap. It was wonderful what that
rubbish heap yielded up. Bricks to build a blubber stove, a sheet of iron
to put over the top of it, a length of stove piping to form a chimney.
Somehow somebody made cement, and built the bricks together, and one of
the magnetic huts gave up its asbestos sheeting to insulate the chimney
from the woodwork of the roofs. An old door made a cook's table, old
cases turned upside down made seats. The provisions left by the Discovery
were biscuits contained in some forty large packing cases. These we piled
up across the middle of our house as a bulkhead and the old Discovery
winter awning was dug out of the snow outside and fixed against the wall
thus made to keep the warmth in. At night we cleared the floor space and
spread our bags.

[Illustration: HUT POINT FROM OBSERVATION HILL]

The two precious survivors of the eight ponies with which we started on
our journey were housed in the verandah, which was made wind-proof and
snow-proof. The more truculent dogs lay tethered outside, the more docile
were allowed their freedom, but even so the dog fights were not
infrequent. We had one poor little dog, Makaka by name. When unloading
the ship this dog had been overrun by the sledge which he was helping to
pull; he suffered again when the team of dogs fell down the crevasse, and
was now partially paralysed. He was a wretched object, for the hair
refused to grow on his hind quarters, but he was a real sportsman and had
no idea of giving in. Meares and I went out one night when it was blowing
hard, attracted by the cries of a dog. It was Makaka who had ventured to
climb a steep slope and was now afraid to return. When the dogs finally
returned to Cape Evans, Makaka was allowed to run by the side of the
team; but when Cape Evans was reached he was gone. Search failed to find
him and, after some weeks, hope of him was abandoned. But a month
afterwards Gran and Debenham went over to Hut Point, and here at the
entrance of the hut they found Makaka, pitifully weak but able to bark to
them. He must have lived on seal, but how he did so in that condition is
a mystery.

The reader may ask how it was that being so near our Winter Quarters at
Cape Evans we were unable to reach them immediately. Cape Evans is
fifteen miles across the sea from Hut Point, and though both huts are on
the same island--Hut Point being at the end of a peninsula and Cape Evans
on the remains of a flow of lava which juts out into the sea--the land
which joins the two has never yet been crossed by a sledge party owing to
the great ice falls which cover the slopes of Erebus. A glance at the map
will show that although Hut Point is surrounded with sea, or sea-ice, on
every side except that of Arrival Heights, the Barrier abuts upon the Hut
Point Peninsula to the south beyond Pram Point. Thus there is always
communication with the Barrier by a devious route by which indeed we had
just arrived, but farther progress north is cut off until the cold
temperature of the autumn and winter causes the open sea to freeze. We
arrived at Hut Point on March 5 and Scott expected to be able to cross on
the newly-frozen ice by about March 21. However, it was nearly a month
after that when the first party could pass to Cape Evans, and then only
the Bays were frozen and the Sound was still open water, owing to the
winds which swept the ice out to sea almost as soon as it was formed.

On the top of all the anxieties which had oppressed him lately Scott had
a great fear that a swell so phenomenal as to break up Glacier Tongue, a
landmark which had probably been there for centuries, might have swept
away our hut at Cape Evans. He was so alarmed about it that he told
Wilson and myself to prepare to form a sledging party with him to
penetrate the Erebus icefalls and reach Cape Evans. "Went yesterday to
Castle Rock with Wilson to see what chance there might be of getting to
Cape Evans. The day was bright and it was quite warm walking in the sun.
There is no doubt the route to Cape Evans lies over the worst corner of
Erebus. From this distance (some 7 or 8 miles at least) the whole
mountain side looks a mass of crevasses, but a route might be found at a
level of 3000 or 4000 feet."[127] After some days the project was
abandoned as being hopeless.

On March 8 Bowers led a party to bring in the gear and provisions which
had been left at Disaster Camp, the material, that is, which had been
rescued from the sea-ice. They were away three days and found the pulling
very hard. "At the corner of the bay the Barrier was buckled into round
ridges which took a couple of hours to cross. We marched for some time
alongside an enormous crevasse, which lay like a street near us. I
examined it at one point which must have been 15 feet wide, and though it
was impossible to see the bottom for snow cornices it was undoubtedly
open as I could hear a seal blowing below."[128]

Bowers' letter describes them dragging their heavy load up the slope to
Castle Rock: "It took us all the morning to reach Saddle Camp with the
loads in two journeys. I found a steady plod up a steep hill without
spells is better and less exhausting than a rush and a number of rests.
This theory I put into practice with great success. I don't know whether
everybody saw eye to eye with me over the idea of getting to the top
without a spell. After the second sledge was up Atkinson said: 'I don't
mind you as a rule, but there are times when I positively hate you.'"

Defoe could have written another Robinson Crusoe with Hut Point instead
of San Juan Fernandez. Our sledging supplies were mostly exhausted and we
depended upon the seals we could kill for food, fuel and light. We were
smutty as sweeps from the blubber we burned; and a more
blackguard-looking crew would have been hard to find. We spent our fine
days killing, cutting up and carrying in seal when we could find them, or
climbing the various interesting hills and craters which abound here, and
our evenings in long discussions which seldom settled anything. Some
looked after dogs, and others after ponies; some made geological
collections; others sketched the wonderful sunsets; but before and above
all we ate and slept. We must have spent a good twelve hours asleep in
our bags every day after our six weeks' sledging. And we rested. Perhaps
this is not everybody's notion of a very good time, but it was good
enough for us.

The Weddell seal which frequents the seas which fringe the Antarctic
continent was a standby for most of our wants; for he can at a pinch
provide not only meat to eat, fuel for your fire and oil for your lamp,
but also leather for your finnesko and an antidote to scurvy. As he lies
out on the sea-ice, a great ungainly shape, nothing short of an actual
prod will persuade him to take much notice of an Antarctic explorer. Even
then he is as likely as not to yawn in your face and go to sleep again.
His instincts are all to avoid the water when alarmed, for he knows his
enemies the killer whales live there: but if you drive him into the water
he is transformed in the twinkling of an eye into a thing of beauty and
grace, which can travel and turn with extreme celerity and which can
successfully chase the fish on which he feeds.

We were lucky now in that a small bay of sea-ice, about an acre in
extent, still remained within two miles of us at a corner where Barrier,
sea, and land meet, called Pram Point by Scott in the Discovery days.

Now Pram Point during the summer months is one of the most populous seal
nurseries in McMurdo Sound. In this neighbourhood the Barrier, moving
slowly towards the Peninsula, buckles the sea-ice into pressure ridges.
As the trough of each ridge is forced downwards, so in summer pools of
sea water are formed in which the seal make their holes and among these
ridges they lie and bask in the sun: the males fight their battles, the
females bring forth their young: the children play and chase their tails
just like kittens. Now that the sea-ice had broken up, many seal were to
be found in this sheltered corner under the green and blue ice-cliffs of
Crater Hill.

If you go seal killing you want a big stick, a bayonet, a flensing knife
and a steel. Any big stick will do, so long as it will hit the seal a
heavy blow on the nose: this stuns him and afterwards mercifully he feels
no more. The bayonet knife (which should be fitted into a handle with a
cross-piece to prevent the slipping of the hand down on to the blade)
should be at least 14 inches long without the handle; this is used to
reach the seal's heart. Our flensing knives were one foot long including
the handle, the blades were seven inches long by 11/4 inches broad: some
were pointed and others round and I do not know which was best. The
handles should be of wood as being warmer to hold.

Killing and cutting up seals is a gruesome but very necessary business,
and the provision of suitable implements is humane as well as economic in
time and labour. The skin is first cut off with the blubber attached: the
meat is then cut from the skeleton, the entrails cleaned out, the liver
carefully excised. The whole is then left to freeze in pieces on the
snow, which are afterwards collected as rock-like lumps. The carcass can
be cut up with an axe when needed and fed to the dogs. Nothing except
entrails was wasted.

[Illustration: SEALS]

[Illustration: SEALS]

[Illustration: FROM THE SEA--E. A. Wilson, del.]

[Illustration: FROM THE SEA--E. A. Wilson, del.]

Lighting was literally a burning question. I do not know that any lamp
was better than a tin matchbox fed with blubber, with strands of lamp
wick sticking up in it, but all kinds of patterns big and small were made
by proud inventors; they generally gave some light, though not a
brilliant one. There were more ambitious attempts than blubber. The worst
of these perhaps was produced by Oates. Somebody found some carbide and
Oates immediately schemed to light the hut with acetylene. I think he was
the only person who did not view the preparation with ill-concealed
nervousness. However, Wilson took the situation into his tactful hands.
For several days Oates and Wilson were deep in the acetylene plant scheme
and then, apparently without reason, it was found that it could not be
done. It was a successful piece of strategy which no woman could have
bettered.

Bowers, Wilson, Atkinson and I were on Crater Hill one morning when we
espied a sledge party approaching from the direction of Castle Rock. As
we expected, this was the Geological party, consisting of Griffith
Taylor, Wright, Debenham and Seaman Evans, home from the Western
Mountains. They entirely failed to recognize in our black faces the men
whom they had last seen from the ship at Glacier Tongue. I hope their
story will be told by Debenham. For days their doings were the topic of
conversation. Both numerically and intellectually they were an addition
to our party, which now numbered sixteen. Taylor especially is seldom at
a loss for conversation and his remarks are generally original, if
sometimes crude. Most of us were glad to listen when the discussions in
which he was a leading figure raged round the blubber stove. Scott and
Wilson were always in the thick of it, and the others chimed in as their
interest, knowledge and experience led. Rash statements on questions of
fact were always dangerous, for our small community contained so many
specialists that errors were soon exposed. At the same time there were
few parts of the world that one or other of us had not visited at least
once. Later, when we came to our own limited quarters, books of reference
were constantly in demand to settle disputes. Such books as the Times
Atlas, a good encyclopaedia and even a Latin Dictionary are invaluable to
such expeditions for this purpose. To them I would add Who's Who.

From odd corners we unearthed some Contemporary Reviews, the Girls' Own
Paper and the Family Herald, all of ten years ago! We also found encased
in ice an incomplete copy of Stanley Weyman's My Lady Rotha; it was
carefully thawed out and read by everybody, and the excitement was
increased by the fact that the end of the book was missing.

"Who's going to cook?" was one of the last queries each night, and two
men would volunteer. It is not great fun lighting an ordinary coal fire
on a cold winter's morning, but lighting the blubber fire at Hut Point
when the metal frosted your fingers and the frozen blubber had to be
induced to drip was a far more arduous task. The water was converted from
its icy state and, by that time, the stove was getting hot, in inverse
proportion to your temper. Seal liver fry and cocoa with unlimited
Discovery Cabin biscuits were the standard dish for breakfast, and when
it was ready a sustained cry of 'hoosh' brought the sleepers from their
bags, wiping reindeer hairs from their eyes. I think I was responsible
for the greatest breakfast failure when I fried some biscuits and
sardines (we only had one tin). Leaving the biscuits in the frying pan,
the lid of a cooker, after taking it from the fire, they went on cooking
and became as charcoal. This meal was known as 'the burnt-offering.' On
April 1 Bowers prepared to make a fool of two of us by putting chaff in
our pannikins and covering the top only with seal meat. The plan turned
back upon the maker, for he had not enough left to make up the
deficiency, and, as I found out many weeks afterwards, surreptitiously
gave up his own hoosh to the April fools and went without himself. Of
such are the small incidents which afforded real amusement and even live
in the memory as outstanding features of our existence.

Breakfast done, there was a general clean-up. One seized the apology for
a broom which existed: day foot-gear, finnesko, hair socks, ordinary
socks and puttees, took the place of fleecy sleeping-socks and fur-lined
sleeping-boots: lunch cooks began to make their preparations: ice was
fetched for water: a frozen chunk of red seal meat or liver was levered
and chopped with an ice axe from the general store of seal meat: fids of
sealskin, with the blubber attached, a good three inches of it perhaps,
were brought in and placed by the stove, much as we bring in a scuttle of
coal. Gradually the community scattered as duty or inclination led,
leaving some members to dig away the snow-drifts which had accumulated
round the door and windows during the night.

By lunch time every one had some new item of interest. Wright had found a
new form of ice crystal: Scott had tested the ice off the Point and found
it five inches thick: Wilson had found new seal holes off Cape Armitage,
and we had hopes of finding our food and fuel nearer home: Atkinson had
killed an Emperor penguin which weighed over ninety pounds, a record: and
the assistant zoologist felt he would have to skin it, and did not want
to do so: Meares had found an excellent place to roll stones down Arrival
Heights into the sea: Debenham had a new theory to account for the Great
Boulder, as a mammoth block different in structure from the surrounding
geological features was called: Bowers had a scheme for returning from
the Pole by the Plateau instead of the Barrier: Oates might be heard
saying that he thought he could do with another chupattie. A favourite
pastime was the making of knots. Could you make a clove hitch with one
hand?

The afternoon was like the morning, save that the sun was now sinking
behind the Western Mountains. These autumn effects were among the most
beautiful sights of the world, and it was now that Wilson made the
sketches for many of the water-colours which he afterwards painted at
Winter Quarters. The majority were taken from the summit of Observation
Hill, crouching under the lee of the rocks into which, nearly two years
after, we built the Cross which now stands to commemorate his death and
that of his companions. He sketched quickly with bare fingers and
mittened hands, jotting down the outlines of hills and clouds, and
pencilling in the colours by name. After a minute, more or less, the
fingers become too cold for such work, and they must be put back into the
wool and fur mitts until they are again warm enough to continue. Pencil
and sketch book, a Winsor and Newton, were carried in a little
blubber-stained wallet on his belt. Scott carried his sledge diaries in
similar books in a similar wallet made of green Willesden canvas and
fastened with a lanyard.

There was a good fug in the hut by dinner time: this was a mixed
blessing. It was good for our gear: sleeping-bags, finnesko, mitts, socks
were all hung up and dried, most necessary after sledging, and most
important for the preservation of the skins; but it also started the most
infernal drip-drip from the roof. I have spoken of the double roof of the
old Discovery hut. This was still full of solid ice; indeed some time
afterwards a large portion of it fell, but luckily the inhabitants were
outside. The immediate problem was to prevent the leaks falling on
ourselves, our food or our clothing and bags. And so every tin was
brought into use and hung from leaky spots, while water chutes came into
their own. As the stove cooled so did the drip cease, and in no
prehistoric cavern did more stalactites and stalagmites grow apace.

On March 16 the last sledge party to the Barrier that season started for
Corner Camp with provisions to increase the existing depot there. The
party was in charge of Lieutenant Evans, and consisted of Bowers, Oates,
Atkinson, Wright, and myself, with two seamen, Crean and Forde. The
journey out and back took eight days and was uneventful as sledge
journeys go. Thick weather prevailed for several days, and after running
down our distance to Corner Camp we waited for it to clear. We found
ourselves six miles from the depot and among crevasses, which goes to
show how easy it is to steer off the course under such conditions, and
how creditable the navigation is when a course is kept correctly,
sometimes more by instinct than by skill.

But we got our first experience of cold weather sledging which was
useful. The minus thirties and forties are not very cold as we were to