understand cold afterwards, but quite cold enough to start with; cold
enough to teach you how to look after your footgear, handle metal and
not to waste time. However, the sun was still well up during the day, and
this makes all the difference, since any sun does more drying of clothes
and gear than none at all. At the same time we began to realize the
difficulties which attend upon spring journeys, though we could only
imagine what might be the trials on a journey in mid-winter, such as we
intended to essay.

It is easy to be wise after the event, but, in looking back upon the
expedition as a whole, and the tragedy which was to come, mainly from the
unforeseen cold of the autumn on the Barrier (such as minus forties in
February) it seems that we might have grasped that these temperatures
were lower than might have been expected in the middle of March quite
near the open sea. Even if this had occurred to any one, and I do not
think that it did, I doubt whether the next step of reasoning would have
followed, namely, the possibility that the interior of the Barrier would,
as actually happened, prove to be much colder than was expected at this
date. On the contrary I several times heard Scott mention the possibility
of the Polar Party not returning until April. At the same time it must be
realized that pony transport to the foot of the Beardmore Glacier made a
late start inevitable, for the blizzards our ponies had already suffered
proved that spring weather on the Barrier would be intolerable to them.
As a matter of fact, Scott says in his Message to the Public, "no one in
the world would have expected the temperature and surfaces which we
encountered at this time of the year."

We returned to find everything at Hut Point, including the hut, covered
with frozen spray. This was the result of a blizzard of which we only
felt the tail end on the Barrier. Scott wrote: "The sea was breaking
constantly and heavily on the ice foot. The spray carried right over the
Point--covering all things and raining on the roof of the hut. Poor
Vince's cross, some 30 feet above the water, was enveloped in it. Of
course the dogs had a very poor time, and we went and released two or
three, getting covered in spray during the operation--our wind clothes
very wet. This is the third gale from the South since our arrival here
(i.e. in 21/2 weeks). Any one of these would have rendered the Bay
impossible for a ship, and, therefore, it is extraordinary that we should
have entirely escaped such a blow when the Discovery was in it in
1902."[129]

*       *       *       *       *

It is difficult to see long distances across open water at this time of
year because the comparatively warm water throws up into the air a fog,
known as frost-smoke. If there is a wind this smoke is carried over the
surface of the sea, but if calm the smoke rises and forms a dense
curtain. Standing on Arrival Heights, which form the nail of the
finger-like Peninsula on which we now lived, we could see the four
islands which lie near Cape Evans, and a black smudge in the face of the
glaciers which descend from Erebus, which we knew to be the face of the
steep slope above Cape Evans, afterwards named The Ramp. But, for the
present, our comfortable hut might have been thousands of miles away for
all the good it was to us. As soon as the wind fell calm the sea was
covered by a thin layer of ice, in twenty-four hours it might be four or
five inches thick, but as yet it never proved strong enough to resist the
next blizzard. In March the ice to the south was safe; there was
appearance of ice in the two bays at the foot of Erebus' slopes in the
beginning of April.

We treated newly formed ice with far too little respect. It was on April
7 that Scott asked whether any of us would like to walk northwards over
the newly formed ice towards Castle Rock. We had walked about two miles,
the ice heaving up and down as we went, dodging the open pools and leads
to the best of our ability, when Taylor went right in. Luckily he could
lever himself out without help, and returned to the hut with all speed.
We prepared to cross this ice to Cape Evans the next day, but the whole
of it went out in the night. On another occasion we were prepared to set
out the following morning, but the ice on which we were to cross went
out on the turn of the tide some five hours before we timed ourselves to
start.

Scott was of opinion that the ice in the two Bays under Erebus was firm,
and prepared to essay this route. The first of these bays is formed by
the junction of the Hut Point Peninsula with Erebus to the south, and by
Glacier Tongue to the north. Crossing Glacier Tongue a party can descend
on to the second bay beyond, the northern boundary of which is Cape
Evans. The Dellbridge Islands, of which Great Razorback is in direct line
between Glacier Tongue and Cape Evans, help to hold in any ice which
forms here. The route had never been attempted before, but it was hoped
that a way down from the Peninsula on to the frozen sea might be found at
the Hutton Cliffs, an outcrop of lava rock in the irregular ice face.

"A party consisting of Scott, Bowers, Taylor, and Seaman Evans with one
tent, and Lieutenant Evans, Wright, Debenham, Gran and Crean with
another, started for Hut Point. It was dark to the south and snowing by
the time they reached the top of Ski Slope. We helped them past Third
Crater. The ice from Hut Point to Glacier Tongue was impossible, and so
they went on past Castle Rock and were to try and get down somewhere by
the Hutton Cliffs on to some fast sea-ice which seemed to have held there
some time, and so across Glacier Tongue on to sea-ice which also seemed
to be fast as far as Cape Evans.

"After lunch Wilson and I started about 4 P.M. in half a blizzard. It was
much better on the Heights and fairly clear towards Erebus, but we could
not see any traces of the party on the ice.

"April 12. This morning as it was beginning to get light a blizzard
started, and it is blowing very hard now. The large amount of snow which
has fallen will make it very thick. We are all anxious about the
returning party, for Scott talked of camping on the sea-ice. The ice in
Arrival Bay (just north of Hut Point) has gone out. They have
sleeping-bags, food for two meals, and a full primus for each tent.

"April 13. We were very anxious about the returning party, especially
when all the ice north of Hut Point went out. The blizzard blew itself
out this morning, and it was a great change to see White Island and The
Bluff once more. Atkinson came in before lunch and told me that, looking
from the Heights, the ice from Glacier Tongue to Cape Evans appeared to
have gone out. This sobered our lunch. We all made our way to Second
Crater afterwards, and found the ice from the Hutton Cliffs to Glacier
Tongue and thence to Cape Evans was still in.

"Before leaving, Scott arranged to give Very Lights at 10 P.M. from Cape
Evans on the first clear night of the next three. To-night is the third,
and the first clear night. We were out punctually, and then as we watched
a flare blazed up, followed by quite a firework display. We all went wild
with excitement--knowing that all was well. Meares ran in and soaked some
awning with paraffin, and we lifted it as an answering flare and threw it
into the air again and again, until it was burning in little bits all
over the snow. The relief was great."[130]

*       *       *       *       *

Bowers must tell the story of the returning party:

"We topped the ridges and headed for Erebus beyond Castle Rock. It looked
a little threatening at first, but cleared a bit as we got on. It was
quite interesting to be breaking new ground. Scott is a fine stepper in a
sledge, and he set a fast and easy swing all the time. It was snowing and
misty when we got beyond the Hutton Cliffs, but we pitched the tents for
lunch before going down the slope. There was no doubt that a blizzard was
coming up. It cleared during lunch, which we finished about 3.30 P.M., as
it had been a long morning march.

"It was just as well for us that the mist cleared, for the slope was not
only crevassed in one direction, but it ended in a high ice-cliff. By
working along we found a lowish place about thirty feet down from top to
bottom. Over this we lowered men and sledges. It had started to blow and
the drift was flying off the cliff in clouds. We put in a couple of
strong male bamboos to lower the last man away, leaving the Alpine rope
there to facilitate ascent (i.e. for any party returning to Hut Point
with food). We then repacked the sledges and headed across the bay
towards the Glacier Tongue, where we arrived after dark about 6 P.M. The
young sea-ice was covered in a salt deposit which made it like pulling a
sledge over treacle instead of ice, and it was very heavy going after the
snow uplands. The Tongue was mostly hard blue ice, which is slipperiness
itself, and crevassed every few yards. Most of these were bridged, but
you were continually pushing a foot, or sometimes two, into nothingness,
in the semi-darkness. None of us, however, went down to the extent of our
harness.

"Arrived on the other side we struck a sheltered dip, where we decided to
camp for something to eat. It was after 8 P.M. and I was for camping
there for the night, as it seemed to me folly to venture upon a piece of
untried newly frozen sea-ice in inky darkness, with a blizzard coming up
behind us. Against this of course we were only five miles from Cape
Evans, and though we had hardly any grub with us, not having anticipated
the cliff or the saltness of the sea-ice, and having to set out to do the
journey in one day, I thought hunger in a sleeping-bag better than lying
out in a blizzard on less than one foot of young ice.

"After a meal we started off at 9.30 P.M. in a snowy mist in which we
could literally see nothing. It had fallen calm though, and at last we
could see the outline of the nearest of the Dellbridge Islands called the
Great Razorback; our course lay for a smaller island ahead called the
Little Razorback. As we neared the Little Razorback Island the snow hid
everything; in fact we could hardly see the island itself when we were
right under it. It was impossible to go wandering on, so we had after all
to camp on the sea-ice. There was scarcely any snow to put on the
valances of the tents, and the wet salt soaked the bags, and you knew
that there was only about six or ten inches of precarious ice between you
and the black waters beneath. Altogether I decided that I for one would
lie awake in such an insecure camp.

"As expected the blizzard overtook us shortly after midnight, and the
shrieking of the wind among the rocks above might have been pretty
unpleasant had it not assured me that we were still close to the island
and not moving seaward. Needless to say, I said that I was sure the camp
was as safe as a church. At daylight Taylor dived out and in until the
wind from the door blew out the ice valance and the next moment the tent
closed on us like an umbrella. We would never have spread it again had
not some of the drift settled round us, and so we were able to secure it
after an hour or two. The air was full of thick drift, and to work off
some of Taylor's energy I said we might climb the island and look for
Cape Evans.

"The island rose up straight from the sea at a sharp angle all round, and
we climbed it with difficulty. On the top we saw the reason of its name,
as it was absolutely so sharp right along that you could bestride the top
as though sitting in a saddle. It was too windy sitting up there to be
pleasant, so we descended, having seen nothing but clouds of flying snow,
and the peak of Inaccessible Island. At the bottom of the weather side we
found a small ledge perfectly flat and just big enough to take two tents
pitched close together. At this place the island made a wind buffer and
it was practically calm though the blizzard yelled all round. I urged
Captain Scott to camp on this ledge and Taylor fizzled for making for
Cape Evans, so Scott decided to ensure Taylor's safety, as he put it, and
we made for the ledge. Once there we had an ideal camp on good hard
ground and no wind, and had we had food the blizzard might have lasted a
week for aught I cared.

[Illustration: THE HUT, EREBUS AND WHALE-BACK CLOUDS]

"We were two nights there and on the morning of the 13th it took off
enough for us to head for home. We saw Sunny Jim's [Simpson's]
Observatory on the Hill, but still did not know how the hut had fared
till we got round the cape into North Bay. There was the Winter Station
all intact, however, and though North Bay had only just frozen in, it was
strong enough to bear us safely. Somebody saw us and in another moment
the hut poured out her little party, consisting of Sunny Jim, Ponting,
Nelson, Day, Lashly, Hooper, Clissold, Dimitri and Anton. Ponting's face
was a study as he ran up; he failed to recognize any of us and stopped
dead with a blank look--as he admitted afterwards, he thought it was the
Norwegian expedition for the space of a moment; and then we were all
being greeted as heartily as if we had really done something to be proud
of.

"The motors had had to be shifted, and a lot of gear placed higher up the
beach, but the water had never reached near the hut, so all was well.
Inside it looked tremendous, and we looked at our grimy selves in a glass
for the first time for three months; no wonder Ponting did not recognize
the ruffians. He photographed a group of us, which will amuse you some
day, when it is permissible to send photos. We ate heartily and had hot
baths and generally civilized ourselves. I have since concluded that the
hut is the finest place in the southern hemisphere, but then I could not
shake down to it at once. I hankered for a sleeping-bag out on the snow,
or for the blubbery atmosphere of Hut Point. I expect the truth of the
matter was that all my special pals, Bill, Cherry, Titus, and Atch, had
been left behind.

"We found eight ponies at Winter Quarters in the stable, Hackenschmidt
having died. These with our two at Hut Point left us with ten to start
the winter with. I at once looked out the other big Siberian horse that
had been a pair with my late lamented (they were the only Siberian
ponies, all the rest being Manchurians) and singled him out for myself,
should 'the powers that be' be willing.

"A party had to return to Hut Point with some provision in a day or two,
so I asked to go. Captain Scott had decided to go himself, but said he
would be very pleased if I would go too; so it being a fine day we left
the following Monday. The two teams consisted of Captain Scott, Lashly,
Day and Dimitri with one tent and sledge, and Crean, Hooper, Nelson and
myself with the other. We had it fine as far as the Glacier Tongue; and
then along came the cheery old south wind in our faces; we crossed the
Tongue and struggled against this till we could camp under the Hutton
Cliffs where we got some shelter. All of us had our faces frost-bitten,
the washing and shaving having made mine quite tender. It was a bit of a
job getting up the cliff: we had to stand on top of a pile of fallen ice
and hoist a 10-feet sledge on to our shoulders, at least on to the
shoulders of the tall ones; this just touched the overhanging cornice. A
cornice of snow is caused by continual drift over a sharp edge: it takes
all sorts of fantastic shapes, but usually hangs over like this. Looking
edgeways it looks as if it must fall down, but as a matter of fact is
usually very tough indeed. In this case steps were cut in it with an ice
axe from our extemporary ladder, and Captain Scott and I got up first.
With the aid of a rope and the ladder we got the light ones up first, and
hauled up the gear last of all; hanging the sledge from the top with one
rope enabled the last two to struggle up it assisted by a rope round them
from above. It was a cold job and more frost-bites occurred in two of our
novices, one on a foot and the other on a finger.

"We faced the blast again, but got it partially behind us on reaching the
Heights. We camped for the night under Castle Rock on an inclined slope.
It calmed down to a glorious night with a low temperature. Crean and I
lay head down hill to make Nelson and Hooper--who had never sledged
before--more comfortable. As a result Crean slipped half out of the tent
and let in a cold stream of air under the valance, for which I was at a
loss to account until the morning disclosed him thus, fast asleep of
course. It takes a lot to worry Captain Scott's coxswain.

"We arrived at Hut Point and had a great reception there, chiefly on
account of the food we brought, particularly the sugar. We had been
living on some paraffin sugar when I left before, and even this was
finished. The next day we stayed there to kill seals. Cherry and I
skinned one and then went for a walk round Cape Armitage. It was blowing
big guns off the cape, fairly fizzing in fact. We went as far as Pram
Point and then turned, coming in with it behind us. I only had a thin
balaclava and my ears were nearly nipped."[131]

*       *       *       *       *

Meanwhile those of us who had been left at Hut Point with the ponies and
dogs journeyed out one afternoon to Safety Camp to get some more bales of
compressed fodder. Easter Sunday we spent in a howling blizzard, which
cleared in the afternoon sufficiently to see a golden sun sinking into a
sea of purple frost-smoke and drift.

I have it on record that we had tinned haddock this day for breakfast,
made by Oates with great care, a biscuit and cheese hoosh for lunch, and
a pemmican fry this evening, followed by cocoa with a tin of sweetened
Nestle's milk in it, truly a great luxury. For the rest we mended our
finnesko, and read Bleak House. Meares told us how the Chinese who were
going to war with the Lolos (who are one of the Eighteen tribes on the
borders of Thibet and China) tied the Lolo hostage to a bench, and,
having cut his throat, caught the blood which dripped from it. Into this
they dipped their flag, and then cut out the heart and liver, which the
officers ate, while the men ate the rest!

The relief party arrived on April 18: "We had spent such a happy week,
just the seven of us, at the Discovery hut that I think, glad as we were
to see the men, we would most of us have rather been left undisturbed,
and I expected that it would mean that we should have to move homewards,
as it turned out.

"Meares is to be left in charge of the party which remains, namely Forde
and Keohane of the old stagers, and Nelson, Day, Lashly and Dimitri of
the new-comers. He is very amusing with the stores and is evidently
afraid that the food which has just been brought in (sugar, self-raising
flour, chocolate, etc.) will all be eaten up by those who have brought
it. So we have dampers without butter, and a minimum of chocolate.

"Tuesday and Tuesday night was one of our few still, cold days, nearly
minus thirty. The sea northwards from Hut Point, whence the ice had
previously all gone out, froze nearly five inches by Wednesday mid-day,
when we got three more seal. Scott was evidently thinking that on
Thursday, when we were to start, we might go by the sea-ice all the
way--when suddenly with no warning it silently floated out to sea."[132]

[Illustration: A CORNICE OF SNOW]

The following two teams travelled to Cape Evans via the Hutton Cliffs on
April 21: 1st team Scott, Wilson, Atkinson, Crean; 2nd team Bowers,
Oates, Cherry-Garrard, Hooper. It was blowing hard, as usual, at the
Hutton Cliffs, and we got rather frost-bitten when lowering the sledges
on to the sea-ice. The sun was leaving us for the next four months, but
luckily the light just lasted for this operation, though not for the
subsequent meal which we hastily ate under the cliffs, nor for the
crossing of Glacier Tongue. Bowers wrote home:

"I had the lighter team and, knowing what a flier Captain Scott is I took
care to have the new sledge myself. Our weights were nothing and the
difference was only in the sledge runners, but it made all the difference
to us that day. Scott fairly legged it, as I expected, and we came along
gaily behind him. He could not understand it when the pace began to tell
more on his heavy team than on us. After lowering down the sledges over
the cliffs we recovered the rope we had left in the first place, and then
struck out over the sea-ice. Then our good runners told so much that I
owned up to mine being the better sledge, and offered to give them one of
my team. This was declined, but after we crossed the Tongue Captain Scott
said he would like to change sledges at the Little Razorback. At any time
over this stretch we could have run away from his team, and once they got
our sledge they started that game on us. We expected it, and never had I
stepped out so hard before. We had been marching hard for nearly 12 hours
and now we had two miles' spurt to do, and we should have stuck it, bad
runners and all, had we had smooth ice. As it was we struck a belt of
rough ice, and in the dark we all stumbled and I went down a whack, that
nearly knocked me out. This was not noticed fortunately, and still we
hung on to the end of their sledge while I turned hot and cold and
sick and went through the various symptoms before I got my equilibrium
back, which I fortunately did while legging it at full speed. They
started to go ahead soon after that though, and we could not hold our
own, although we were close to the cape. I had the same thing happen
again after another fall but we stuck it round the cape and arrived only
about 50 yards behind. I have never felt so done, and so was my team. Of
course we need not have raced, but we did, and I would do the same thing
every time. Titus produced a mug of brandy he had sharked from the ship
and we all lapped it up with avidity. The other team were just about laid
out, too, so I don't think there was much to be said either way."[133]

Two days later the sun appeared for the last time for four months.

Looking back I realized two things. That sledging, at any rate in summer
and autumn, was a much less terrible ordeal than my imagination had
painted it, and that those Hut Point days would prove some of the
happiest in my life. Just enough to eat and keep us warm, no more--no
frills nor trimmings: there is many a worse and more elaborate life. The
necessaries of civilization were luxuries to us: and as Priestley found
under circumstances compared to which our life at Hut Point was a Sunday
School treat, the luxuries of civilization satisfy only those wants which
they themselves create.

FOOTNOTES:

[117] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. pp. 180-81.

[118] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. pp. 187-188. Scott
started for the Pole on November 1, 1911. Amundsen started
on September 8, 1911, but had to turn back owing to low
temperatures; he started again on October 19.

[119] Priestley's diary.

[120] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 185.

[121] See p. 123.

[122] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. pp. 190-191.

[123] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. pp. 191-192.

[124] Wilson camped with the two dog-teams on the land, and in the
morning saw us floating on the ice-floes through his
field-glasses. He made his way along the peninsula until he
could descend on to the Barrier, where he joined Scott.

[125] I think he was stiff after standing so many hours.--A. C.-G.

[126] Scott, _The Voyage of the Discovery_, vol. i. p. 350.

[127] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 201.

[128] Bowers.

[129] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 207.

[130] My own diary.

[131] Bowers.

[132] My own diary.

[133] Bowers' letter.




CHAPTER VI

THE FIRST WINTER

The highest object that human beings can set before themselves is
not the pursuit of any such chimera as the annihilation of the
unknown; it is simply the unwearied endeavour to remove its
boundaries a little further from our little sphere of
action.--HUXLEY.


And so we came back to our comfortable hut. Whatever merit there may be
in going to the Antarctic, once there you must not credit yourself for
being there. To spend a year in the hut at Cape Evans because you explore
is no more laudable than to spend a month at Davos because you have
consumption, or to spend an English winter at the Berkeley Hotel. It is
just the most comfortable thing and the easiest thing to do under the
circumstances.

In our case the best thing was not at all bad, for the hut, as Arctic
huts go, was as palatial as is the Ritz, as hotels go. Whatever the
conditions of darkness, cold and wind, might be outside, there was
comfort and warmth and good cheer within.

And there was a mass of work to be done, as well as at least two journeys
of the first magnitude ahead.

When Scott first sat down at his little table at Winter Quarters to start
working out a most complicated scheme of weights and averages for the
Southern Journey, his thoughts were gloomy, I know. "This is the end of
the Pole," he said to me, when he pulled us off the bergs after the
sea-ice had broken up; the loss of six ponies out of the eight with which
we started the Depot Journey, the increasing emaciation and weakness of
the pony transport as we travelled farther on the Barrier, the arrival
of the dogs after their rapid journey home, starved rakes which looked as
though they were absolutely done--these were not cheerful recollections
with which to start to plan a journey of eighteen hundred miles.

On the other hand, we had ten ponies left, though two or three of them
were of more than doubtful quality; and it was obvious that considerable
improvement could and must be made in the feeding of both ponies and
dogs. With regard to the dogs the remedy was plain; their ration was too
small. With regard to the ponies the question was not so simple. One of
the main foods for the ponies which we had brought was compressed fodder
in the shape of bales. Theoretically this fodder was excellent food
value, and was made of wheat which was cut green and pressed. Whether it
was really wheat or not I do not know, but there could be no two opinions
about its nourishing qualities for our ponies. When fed upon it they lost
weight until they were just skin and bone. Poor beasts! It was pitiful to
see them.

In Oates we had a man who had forgotten as much as most men know about
horses. It was no fault of his that this fodder was inadequate, nor that
we had lost so many of the best ponies which we had. Oates had always
been for taking the worst ponies out on the Depot Journey: travelling as
far on to the Barrier as they could go, and there killing them and
depoting their flesh. Now Oates took the ten remaining ponies into his
capable hands. Some of them were scarecrows, especially poor Jehu, who
was never expected to start at all, and ended by gallantly pulling his
somewhat diminished load eight marches beyond One Ton Camp, a distance of
238 miles. Another, Christopher, was a man-killer if ever a horse was; he
had to be thrown in order to attach him to the sledge; to the end he
would lay out any man who was rash enough to give him the chance; once
started, and it took four men to achieve this, it was impossible to halt
him during the day's march, and so Oates and his three tent mates and
their ponies had to go without any lunch meal for 130 miles of the
Southern Journey.

Oates trained them and fed them as though they were to run in the Derby.
They were exercised whenever possible throughout the winter and spring by
those who were to lead them on the actual journey. Fresh and good food
was found in the shape of oilcake and oats, a limited quantity of each of
which had been brought and was saved for the actual Polar Journey, and
everything which care and foresight could devise was done to save them
discomfort. It is a grim life for animals, but in the end we were to know
that up to the time of that bad blizzard almost at the Glacier Gateway,
which was the finishing post of these plucky animals, they had fed all
they needed, slept as well and lived as well as any, and better than most
horses in ordinary life at home. "I congratulate you, Titus," said
Wilson, as we stood under the shadow of Mount Hope, with the ponies' task
accomplished, and "I thank you," said Scott.

Titus grunted and was pleased.

Transport difficulties for the Polar Journey were considerable, but in
every other direction the outlook was bright. The men who were to do the
sledging had been away from Winter Quarters for three months. They had
had plenty of sledging experience, some of it none too soft. The sledges,
clothing, man-food, and outfit generally were excellent, although some
changes were suggested and could be put into effect. There was no obvious
means, however, of effecting the improvement most desired, a satisfactory
snow-shoe for the ponies.

The work already accomplished was enormous. On the Polar Journey the
ponies and dogs could now travel light for the first hundred and thirty
geographical miles, when, at One Ton Camp, they would for the first time
take their full loads: the advantage of being able to start again with
full loads when so far on your way is obvious when it is considered that
the distance travelled depends upon the weight of food that can be
carried. During the geological journey on the western side of the Sound,
Taylor and his party had carried out much useful geological work in Dry
Valley and on the Ferrar and Koettlitz Glaciers, which had been
accurately plotted for the charts, and had been examined for the first
time by an expert physiographer and ice specialist. The ordinary routine
of scientific and meteorological observations usual with all Scott's
sledging parties was observed.

Further, at Cape Evans there had been running for more than three months
a scientific station, which rivalled in thoroughness and exactitude any
other such station in the world. I hope that later a more detailed
account may be given of this continuous series of observations, some of
them demanding the most complex mechanism, and all of them watched over
by enthusiastic experts. It must here suffice to say that we who on our
return saw for the first time the hut and its annexes completely equipped
were amazed; though perhaps the gadget which appealed most to us at first
was the electric apparatus by which the cook, whose invention it was,
controlled the rising of his excellent bread.

Glad as we were to find it all and to enjoy the food, bath and comfort
which it offered, we had no illusions about Cape Evans itself. It is
uninteresting, as only a low-lying spit of black lava covered for the
most part with snow, and swept constantly by high winds and drift, can be
uninteresting. The kenyte lava of which it is formed is a remarkable
rock, and is found in few parts of the world: but when you have seen one
bit of kenyte you have seen all. Unlike the spacious and lofty Hut Point
Peninsula, thirteen miles to the south, it has no outstanding hills and
craters; no landmarks such as Castle Rock. Unlike the broad folds of Cape
Royds, six miles to the north, it has none of the rambling walks and
varied lakes, in which is found most of the limited plant life which
exists in these latitudes, and though a few McCormick skuas meet here,
there is no nursery of penguins such as that which makes Cape Royds so
attractive in summer. Nor has the Great Ice Sheet, which reached up
Erebus and spread over the Ross Sea in the past, spilled over Cape Evans
in its retreat a wealth of foreign granites, dolerites, porphyrys and
sandstone such as cover the otherwise dull surface round Shackleton's old
Winter Quarters.

Cape Evans is a low lava flow jutting out some three thousand feet from
the face of the glaciers which clothe the slopes of Erebus. It is roughly
an equilateral triangle in shape, at its base some three thousand feet
(9/16th mile) across. This base-line, which divides the cape from the
slopes of Erebus and the crevassed glaciers and giant ice-falls which
clothe them, consists of a ramp with a slope of thirty degrees, and a
varying height of some 100 to 150 feet. From our hut, four hundred yards
away, it looks like a great embankment behind which rises the majestic
volcano Erebus, with its plume of steam and smoke.

The cape itself does not rise on the average more than thirty feet, and
somewhat resembles the back of a hog with several backbones. The hollows
between the ridges are for the most part filled with snow and ice, while
in one or two places where the accumulation of snow is great enough there
are little glacierets which do not travel far before they ignominiously
peter out. There are two small lakes, called Skua Lake and Island Lake
respectively. There is only one hill which is almost behind the hut, and
is called Wind Vane Hill, for on it were placed one of our wind vanes and
certain other meteorological instruments. Into the glacieret which flowed
down in the lee of this hill we drove two caves, which gave both an even
low temperature and excellent insulation. One of them was therefore used
for our magnetic observations, and the other as an ice-house for the
mutton we had brought from New Zealand.

The north side, upon which we had built our hut, slopes down by way of a
rubbly beach to the sea in North Bay. We knew there was a beach for we
landed upon it, but we never saw it again even in the height of summer,
for the winter blizzards formed an ice foot several feet thick. The other
side of the cape ends abruptly in black bastions and baby cliffs some
thirty feet high. The apex of the triangle which forms as it were the
cape proper is a similar kenyte bluff. The whole makes a tricky place on
which to walk in the dark, for the surface is strewn with boulders of all
sizes and furrowed and channelled by drifts of hard and icy snow, and
quite suddenly you may find yourself prostrate upon a surface of slippery
blue ice. It may be easily imagined that it is no seemly place to
exercise skittish ponies or mules in a cold wind, but there is no other
place when the sea-ice is unsafe.

Come and stand outside the hut door. All round you, except where the cape
joins the mountain, is the sea. You are facing north with your back to
the Great Ice Barrier and the Pole, with your eyes looking out of the
mouth of McMurdo Sound over the Ross Sea towards New Zealand, two
thousand miles of open water, pack and bergs. Look over the sea to your
left. It is mid-day, and though the sun will not appear above the horizon
he is still near enough to throw a soft yellow light over the Western
Mountains. These form the coast-line thirty miles across the Sound, and
as they disappear northwards are miraged up into the air and float, black
islands in a lemon sky. Straight ahead of you there is nothing to be seen
but black open sea, with a high light over the horizon, which you know
betokens pack; this is ice blink. But as you watch there appears and
disappears a little dark smudge. This puzzles you for some time, and then
you realize that this is the mirage of some far mountain or of Beaufort
Island, which guards the mouth of McMurdo Sound against such traffic as
ever comes that way, by piling up the ice floes across the entrance.

As you still look north, in the middle distance, jutting out into the
sea, is a low black line of land, with one excrescence. This is Cape
Royds, with Shackleton's old hut upon it; the excrescence is High Peak,
and this line marks the first land upon the eastern side of McMurdo Sound
which you can see, and indeed is actually the most eastern point of Ross
Island. It disappears abruptly behind a high wall, and if you let your
eyes travel round towards your right front you see that the wall is a
perpendicular cliff two hundred feet high of pure green and blue ice,
which falls sheer into the sea, and forms, with Cape Evans, on which we
stand, the bay which lies in front of our hut, and which we called North
Bay. This great ice-cliff with its crevasses, towers, bastions and
cornices, was a never-ending source of delight to us; it forms the snout
of one of the many glaciers which slide down the slopes of Erebus: in
smooth slopes and contours where the mountain underneath is of regular
shape: in impassable icefalls where the underlying surface is steep or
broken. This particular ice stream is called the Barne Glacier, and is
about two miles across. The whole background from our right front to our
right rear, that is from N.E. to S.E., is occupied by our massive and
volcanic neighbour, Erebus. He stands 13,500 feet high. We live beneath
his shadow and have both admiration and friendship for him, sometimes
perhaps tinged with respect. However, there are no signs of dangerous
eruptive disturbances in modern times, and we feel pretty safe, despite
the fact that the smoke which issues from his crater sometimes rises in
dense clouds for many thousands of feet, and at others the trail of his
plume can be measured for at least a hundred miles.

If you are not too cold standing about (it does not pay to stand about at
Cape Evans) let us make our way behind the hut and up Wind Vane Hill.
This is only some sixty-five feet high, yet it dominates the rest of the
cape and is steep enough to require a scramble, even now when the wind is
calm. Look out that you do not step on the electric wires which connect
the wind-vane cups on the hill with the recording dial in the hut. These
cups revolve in the wind, the revolutions being registered electrically:
every four miles a signal was sent to the hut, and a pen working upon a
chronograph registered one more step. There is also a meteorological
screen on the summit, which has to be visited at eight o'clock each
morning in all weathers.

[Illustration: A SUMMER VIEW OVER CAPE EVANS AND MCMURDO SOUND FROM THE
RAMP--Emery Walker Limited, Collotypers.]

Arrived on the top you will now be facing south, that is in the opposite
direction to which you were facing before. The first thing that will
strike you is that the sea, now frozen in the bays though still unfrozen
in the open sound, flows in nearly to your feet. The second, that though
the sea stretches back for nearly twenty miles, yet the horizon shows
land or ice in every direction. For a ship this is a cul-de-sac, as Ross
found seventy years ago. But as soon as you have grasped these two
facts your whole attention will be riveted to the amazing sight on your
left. Here are the southern slopes of Erebus; but how different from
those which you have lately seen. Northwards they fell in broad calm
lines to a beautiful stately cliff which edged the sea. But here--all the
epithets and all the adjectives which denote chaotic immensity could not
adequately tell of them. Visualize a torrent ten miles long and twenty
miles broad; imagine it falling over mountainous rocks and tumbling over
itself in giant waves; imagine it arrested in the twinkling of an eye,
frozen and white. Countless blizzards have swept their drifts over it,
but have failed to hide it. And it continues to move. As you stand in the
still cold air you may sometimes hear the silence broken by the sharp
reports as the cold contracts it or its own weight splits it. Nature is
tearing up that ice as human beings tear paper.

The sea-cliff is not so high here, and is more broken up by crevasses and
caves, and more covered with snow. Some five miles along the coast the
white line is broken by a bluff and black outcrop of rock; this is Turk's
Head, and beyond it is the low white line of Glacier Tongue, jutting out
for miles into the sea. We know, for we have already crossed it, that
there is a small frozen bay of sea-ice beyond, but all we can see from
Cape Evans is the base of the Hut Point Peninsula, with a rock outcrop
just showing where the Hutton Cliffs lie. The Peninsula prevents us from
seeing the Barrier, though the Barrier wind is constantly flowing over
it, as the clouds of drift now smoking over the Cliffs bear witness.
Farther to the right still, the land is clear: Castle Rock stands up like
a sentinel, and beyond are Arrival Heights and the old craters we have
got to know so well during our stay at Hut Point. The Discovery hut,
which would, in any case, be invisible at fifteen miles, is round that
steep rocky corner which ends the Peninsula, due south from where we
stand.

There remains undescribed the quadrant which stretches to our right front
from south to west. Just as we have previously seen the line of the
Western Mountains disappearing to the north miraged up in the light of
the mid-day sun, so now we see the same line of mountains running south,
with many miles of sea or Barrier between us and them. On the far
southern horizon, almost in transit with Hut Point, stands Minna Bluff,
some ninety miles away, beyond which we have laid the One Ton Depot, and
from this point, as our eyes move round to the right, we see peak after
peak of these great mountain ranges--Discovery, Morning, Lister, Hooker,
and the glaciers which divide them one from another. They rise almost
without a break to a height of thirteen thousand feet. Between us and
them is the Barrier to the south, and the sea to the north. Unless a
blizzard is impending or blowing, they are clearly visible, a gigantic
wall of snow and ice and rock, which bounds our view to the west,
constantly varied by the ever-changing colour of the Antarctic. Beyond is
the plateau.

We have not yet mentioned four islands which lie within a radius of about
three miles from where we stand. The most important is a mile from the
end of Cape Evans and is called Inaccessible Island, owing to the
inhospitality of its steep lava side, even when the sea is frozen; we
found a way up, but it is not a very interesting place. Tent Island lies
farther out and to the south-west. The remaining two, which are more
islets than islands, rise in front of us in South Bay. They are called
Great and Little Razorback, being ribs of rock with a sharp divide in the
centre. The latter of these is the refuge upon which Scott's party
returning to Cape Evans pitched their camp when overtaken by a blizzard