and getting forward about 41/2 miles a day at this point. The surface which
we had dreaded so much was not so sandy or soft as when we had come out,
and the settlements were more marked. These are caused by a crust falling
under your feet. Generally the area involved is some twenty yards or so
round you, and the surface falls through an air space for two or three
inches with a soft 'crush' which may at first make you think there are
crevasses about. In the region where we now travelled they were much more
pronounced than elsewhere, and one day, when Bill was inside the tent
lighting the primus, I put my foot into a hole that I had dug. This
started a big settlement; sledge, tent and all of us dropped about a
foot, and the noise of it ran away for miles and miles: we listened to it
until we began to get too cold. It must have lasted a full three minutes.

In the pauses of our marching we halted in our harnesses the ropes of
which lay slack in the powdery snow. We stood panting with our backs
against the mountainous mass of frozen gear which was our load. There was
no wind, at any rate no more than light airs: our breath crackled as it
froze. There was no unnecessary conversation: I don't know why our
tongues never got frozen, but all my teeth, the nerves of which had been
killed, split to pieces. We had been going perhaps three hours since
lunch.

"How are your feet, Cherry?" from Bill.

"Very cold."

"That's all right; so are mine." We didn't worry to ask Birdie: he never
had a frost-bitten foot from start to finish.

Half an hour later, as we marched, Bill would ask the same question. I
tell him that all feeling has gone: Bill still has some feeling in one of
his but the other is lost. He settled we had better camp: another ghastly
night ahead. We started to get out of our harnesses, while Bill, before
doing anything else, would take the fur mitts from his hands, carefully
shape any soft parts as they froze (generally, however, our mitts did not
thaw on our hands), and lay them on the snow in front of him--two dark
dots. His proper fur mitts were lost when the igloo roof went: these were
the delicate dog-skin linings we had in addition, beautiful things to
look at and to feel when new, excellent when dry to turn the screws of a
theodolite, but too dainty for straps and lanyards. Just now I don't know
what he could have done without them.

Working with our woollen half-mitts and mitts on our hands all the time,
and our fur mitts over them when possible, we gradually got the buckles
undone, and spread the green canvas floor-cloth on the snow. This was
also fitted to be used as a sail, but we never could have rigged a sail
on this journey. The shovel and the bamboos, with a lining, itself lined
with ice, lashed to them, were packed on the top of the load and were now
put on the snow until wanted. Our next job was to lift our three
sleeping-bags one by one on to the floor-cloth: they covered it, bulging
over the sides--those obstinate coffins which were all our life to us....
One of us is off by now to nurse his fingers back. The cooker was
unlashed from the top of the instrument box; some parts of it were put on
the bags with the primus, methylated spirit can, matches and so forth;
others left to be filled with snow later. Taking a pole in each hand we
three spread the bamboos over the whole. "All right? Down!" from Bill;
and we lowered them gently on to the soft snow, that they might not sink
too far. The ice on the inner lining of the tent was formed mostly from
the steam of the cooker. This we had been unable to beat or chip off in
the past, and we were now, truth to tell, past worrying about it. The
little ventilator in the top, made to let out this steam, had been tied
up in order to keep in all possible heat. Then over with the outer cover,
and for one of us the third worst job of the day was to begin. The worst
job was to get into our bags: the second or equal worst was to lie in
them for six hours (we had brought it down to six): this third worst was,
to get the primus lighted and a meal on the way.

As cook of the day you took the broken metal framework, all that remained
of our candlestick, and got yourself with difficulty into the funnel
which formed the door. The enclosed space of the tent seemed much colder
than the outside air: you tried three or four match-boxes and no match
would strike: almost desperate, you asked for a new box to be given you
from the sledge and got a light from this because it had not yet been in
the warmth, so called, of the tent. The candle hung by a wire from the
cap of the tent. It would be tedious to tell of the times we had getting
the primus alight, and the lanyards of the weekly food bag unlashed.
Probably by now the other two men have dug in the tent; squared up
outside; filled and passed in the cooker; set the thermometer under the
sledge and so forth. There were always one or two odd jobs which wanted
doing as well: but you may be sure they came in as soon as possible when
they heard the primus hissing, and saw the glow of light inside. Birdie
made a bottom for the cooker out of an empty biscuit tin to take the
place of the part which was blown away. On the whole this was a success,
but we had to hold it steady--on Bill's sleeping-bag, for the flat frozen
bags spread all over the floor space. Cooking was a longer business now.
Some one whacked out the biscuit, and the cook put the ration of pemmican
into the inner cooker which was by now half full of water. As opportunity
offered we got out of our day, and into our night foot-gear--fleecy
camel-hair stockings and fur boots. In the dim light we examined our feet
for frost-bite.

I do not think it took us less than an hour to get a hot meal to our
lips: pemmican followed by hot water in which we soaked our biscuits. For
lunch we had tea and biscuits: for breakfast, pemmican, biscuits and tea.
We could not have managed more food bags--three were bad enough, and the
lashings of everything were like wire. The lashing of the tent door,
however, was the worst, and it _had_ to be tied tightly, especially if it
was blowing. In the early days we took great pains to brush rime from the
tent before packing it up, but we were long past that now.

The hoosh got down into our feet: we nursed back frost-bites: and we were
all the warmer for having got our dry foot-gear on before supper. Then we
started to get into our bags.

[Illustration: PANORAMA AND MAP OF THE WINTER JOURNEY--Copied at Hut
Point by Apsley Cherry-Garrard from a drawing by E. A. Wilson]

Birdie's bag fitted him beautifully, though perhaps it would have been a
little small with an eider-down inside. He must have had a greater heat
supply than other men; for he never had serious trouble with his feet,
while ours were constantly frost-bitten: he slept, I should be afraid to
say how much, longer than we did, even in these last days: it was a
pleasure, lying awake practically all night, to hear his snores. He
turned his bag inside out from fur to skin, and skin to fur, many times
during the journey, and thus got rid of a lot of moisture which came
out as snow or actual knobs of ice. When we did turn our bags the only
way was to do so directly we turned out, and even then you had to be
quick before the bag froze. Getting out of the tent at night it was quite
a race to get back to your bag before it hardened. Of course this was in
the lowest temperatures.

We could not burn our bags and we tried putting the lighted primus into
them to thaw them out, but this was not very successful. Before this
time, when it was very cold, we lighted the primus in the morning while
we were still in our bags: and in the evening we kept it going until we
were just getting or had got the mouths of our bags levered open. But
returning we had no oil for such luxuries, until the last day or two.

I do not believe that any man, however sick he is, has a much worse time
than we had in those bags, shaking with cold until our backs would almost
break. One of the added troubles which came to us on our return was the
sodden condition of our hands in our bags at night. We had to wear our
mitts and half-mitts, and they were as wet as they could be: when we got
up in the morning we had washer-women's hands--white, crinkled, sodden.
That was an unhealthy way to start the day's work. We really wanted some
bags of saennegrass for hands as well as feet; one of the blessings of
that kind of bag being that you can shake the moisture from it: but we
only had enough for our wretched feet.

The horrors of that return journey are blurred to my memory and I know
they were blurred to my body at the time. I think this applies to all of
us, for we were much weakened and callous. The day we got down to the
penguins I had not cared whether I fell into a crevasse or not. We had
been through a great deal since then. I know that we slept on the march;
for I woke up when I bumped against Birdie, and Birdie woke when he
bumped against me. I think Bill steering out in front managed to keep
awake. I know we fell asleep if we waited in the comparatively warm tent
when the primus was alight--with our pannikins or the primus in our
hands. I know that our sleeping-bags were so full of ice that we did not
worry if we spilt water or hoosh over them as they lay on the
floor-cloth, when we cooked on them with our maimed cooker. They were so
bad that we never rolled them up in the usual way when we got out of them
in the morning: we opened their mouths as much as possible before they
froze, and hoisted them more or less flat on to the sledge. All three of
us helped to raise each bag, which looked rather like a squashed coffin
and was probably a good deal harder. I know that if it was only -40 deg. when
we camped for the night we considered quite seriously that we were going
to have a warm one, and that when we got up in the morning if the
temperature was in the minus sixties we did not enquire what it was. The
day's march was bliss compared to the night's rest, and both were awful.
We were about as bad as men can be and do good travelling: but I never
heard a word of complaint, nor, I believe, an oath, and I saw
self-sacrifice standing every test.

Always we were getting nearer home: and we were doing good marches. We
were going to pull through; it was only a matter of sticking this for a
few more days; six, five, four ... three perhaps now, if we were not
blizzed. Our main hut was behind that ridge where the mist was always
forming and blowing away, and there was Castle Rock: we might even see
Observation Hill to-morrow, and the Discovery Hut furnished and trim was
behind it, and they would have sent some dry sleeping-bags from Cape
Evans to greet us there. We reckoned our troubles over at the Barrier
edge, and assuredly it was not far away. "You've got it in the neck,
stick it, you've got it in the neck"--it was always running in my head.

And we _did_ stick it. How good the memories of those days are. With
jokes about Birdie's picture hat: with songs we remembered off the
gramophone: with ready words of sympathy for frost-bitten feet: with
generous smiles for poor jests: with suggestions of happy beds to come.
We did not forget the Please and Thank you, which mean much in such
circumstances, and all the little links with decent civilization which
we could still keep going. I'll swear there was still a grace about us
when we staggered in. And we kept our tempers--even with God.

We _might_ reach Hut Point to-night: we were burning more oil now, that
one-gallon tin had lasted us well: and burning more candle too; at one
time we feared they would give out. A hell of a morning we had: -57 deg. in
our present state. But it was calm, and the Barrier edge could not be
much farther now. The surface was getting harder: there were a few
wind-blown furrows, the crust was coming up to us. The sledge was
dragging easier: we always suspected the Barrier sloped downwards
hereabouts. Now the hard snow was on the surface, peeping out like great
inverted basins on which we slipped, and our feet became warmer for not
sinking into soft snow. Suddenly we saw a gleam of light in a line of
darkness running across our course. It was the Barrier edge: we were all
right now.

We ran the sledge off a snow-drift on to the sea-ice, with the same cold
stream of air flowing down it which wrecked my hands five weeks ago:
pushed out of this, camped and had a meal: the temperature had already
risen to -43 deg.. We could almost feel it getting warmer as we went round
Cape Armitage on the last three miles. We managed to haul our sledge up
the ice foot, and dug the drift away from the door. The old hut struck us
as fairly warm.

Bill was convinced that we ought not to go into the warm hut at Cape
Evans when we arrived there--to-morrow night! We ought to get back to
warmth gradually, live in a tent outside, or in the annexe for a day or
two. But I'm sure we never meant to do it. Just now Hut Point did not
prejudice us in favour of such abstinence. It was just as we had left it:
there was nothing sent down for us there--no sleeping-bags, nor sugar:
but there was plenty of oil. Inside the hut we pitched a dry tent left
there since Depot Journey days, set two primuses going in it; sat dozing
on our bags; and drank cocoa without sugar so thick that next morning we
were gorged with it. We were very happy, falling asleep between each
mouthful, and after several hours discussed schemes of not getting into
our bags at all. But some one would have to keep the primus going to
prevent frost-bite, and we could not trust ourselves to keep awake. Bill
and I tried to sing a part-song. Finally we sopped our way into our bags.
We only stuck _them_ three hours, and thankfully turned out at 3 A.M.,
and were ready to pack up when we heard the wind come away. It was no
good, so we sat in our tent and dozed again. The wind dropped at 9.30: we
were off at 11. We walked out into what seemed to us a blaze of light. It
was not until the following year that I understood that a great part of
such twilight as there is in the latter part of the winter was cut off
from us by the mountains under which we travelled. Now, with nothing
between us and the northern horizon below which lay the sun, we saw as we
had not seen for months, and the iridescent clouds that day were
beautiful.

We just pulled for all we were worth and did nearly two miles an hour:
for two miles a baddish salt surface, then big undulating hard sastrugi
and good going. We slept as we walked. We had done eight miles by 4 P.M.
and were past Glacier Tongue. We lunched there.

As we began to gather our gear together to pack up for the last time,
Bill said quietly, "I want to thank you two for what you have done. I
couldn't have found two better companions--and what is more I never
shall."

I am proud of that.

Antarctic exploration is seldom as bad as you imagine, seldom as bad as
it sounds. But this journey had beggared our language: no words could
express its horror.

We trudged on for several more hours and it grew very dark. There was a
discussion as to where Cape Evans lay. We rounded it at last: it must
have been ten or eleven o'clock, and it was possible that some one might
see us as we pulled towards the hut. "Spread out well," said Bill, "and
they will be able to see that there are three men." But we pulled along
the cape, over the tide-crack, up the bank to the very door of the hut
without a sound. No noise from the stable, nor the bark of a dog from the
snowdrifts above us. We halted and stood there trying to get ourselves
and one another out of our frozen harnesses--the usual long job. The door
opened--"Good God! here is the Crozier Party," said a voice, and
disappeared.

Thus ended the worst journey in the world.

And now the reader will ask what became of the three penguins' eggs for
which three human lives had been risked three hundred times a day, and
three human frames strained to the utmost extremity of human endurance.

Let us leave the Antarctic for a moment and conceive ourselves in the
year 1913 in the Natural History Museum in South Kensington. I had
written to say that I would bring the eggs at this time. Present, myself,
C.-G., the sole survivor of the three, with First or Doorstep Custodian
of the Sacred Eggs. I did not take a verbatim report of his welcome; but
the spirit of it may be dramatized as follows:

FIRST CUSTODIAN. Who are you? What do you want? This ain't an egg-shop.
What call have you to come meddling with our eggs? Do you want me to put
the police on to you? Is it the crocodile's egg you're after? I don't
know nothing about 'no eggs. You'd best speak to Mr. Brown: it's him that
varnishes the eggs.

I resort to Mr. Brown, who ushers me into the presence of the Chief
Custodian, a man of scientific aspect, with two manners: one, affably
courteous, for a Person of Importance (I guess a Naturalist Rothschild at
least) with whom he is conversing, and the other, extraordinarily
offensive even for an official man of science, for myself.

I announce myself with becoming modesty as the bearer of the penguins'
eggs, and proffer them. The Chief Custodian takes them into custody
without a word of thanks, and turns to the Person of Importance to
discuss them. I wait. The temperature of my blood rises. The conversation
proceeds for what seems to me a considerable period. Suddenly the Chief
Custodian notices my presence and seems to resent it.

CHIEF CUSTODIAN. You needn't wait.

HEROIC EXPLORER. I should like to have a receipt for the eggs, if you
please.

CHIEF CUSTODIAN. It is not necessary: it is all right. You needn't wait.

HEROIC EXPLORER. I should like to have a receipt.

But by this time the Chief Custodian's attention is again devoted wholly
to the Person of Importance. Feeling that to persist in overhearing their
conversation would be an indelicacy, the Heroic Explorer politely leaves
the room, and establishes himself on a chair in a gloomy passage outside,
where he wiles away the time by rehearsing in his imagination how he will
tell off the Chief Custodian when the Person of Importance retires. But
this the Person of Importance shows no sign of doing, and the Explorer's
thoughts and intentions become darker and darker. As the day wears on,
minor officials, passing to and from the Presence, look at him doubtfully
and ask his business. The reply is always the same, "I am waiting for a
receipt for some penguins' eggs." At last it becomes clear from the
Explorer's expression that what he is really waiting for is not to take a
receipt but to commit murder. Presumably this is reported to the destined
victim: at all events the receipt finally comes; and the Explorer goes
his way with it, feeling that he has behaved like a perfect gentleman,
but so very dissatisfied with that vapid consolation that for hours he
continues his imaginary rehearsals of what he would have liked to have
done to that Custodian (mostly with his boots) by way of teaching him
manners.

Some time after this I visited the Natural History Museum with Captain
Scott's sister. After a slight preliminary skirmish in which we convinced
a minor custodian that the specimens brought by the expedition from the
Antarctic did not include the moths we found preying on some of them,
Miss Scott expressed a wish to see the penguins' eggs. Thereupon the
minor custodians flatly denied that any such eggs were in existence or in
their possession. Now Miss Scott was her brother's sister; and she showed
so little disposition to take this lying down that I was glad to get her
away with no worse consequences than a profanely emphasized threat on my
part that if we did not receive ample satisfaction in writing within
twenty-four hours as to the safety of the eggs England would reverberate
with the tale.

The ultimatum was effectual; and due satisfaction was forthcoming in
time; but I was relieved when I learnt later on that they had been
entrusted to Professor Assheton for the necessary microscopic
examination. But he died before he could approach the task; and the eggs
passed into the hands of Professor Cossar Ewart of Edinburgh University.

His report is as follows:

FOOTNOTES:

[150] See pp. xxxix-xlv.

[151] A thermometer which registered -77 deg. at the Winter Quarters
of H.M.S. Alert on March 4, 1876, is preserved by the Royal
Geographical Society. I do not know whether it was screened.

[152] My own diary.

[153] My own diary.

[154] My own diary.

[155] Ibid.

[156] See Introduction, pp. xxxix-xlv.

[157] See p. 82.

[158] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. ii. p. 42.

[159] Keats.

[160] Bowers.

[161] My own diary.

[162] Bowers.

[163] Wilson in _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. ii. p. 58.

[164] My own diary.

[165] Wilson.

[166] Bowers.

[167] My own diary.




APPENDIX

PROFESSOR COSSAR EWART'S REPORT


"It was a great disappointment to Dr. Wilson that no Emperor Penguin
embryos were obtained during the cruise of the Discovery. But though
embryos were conspicuous by their absence in the Emperor eggs brought
home by the National Antarctic Expedition, it is well to bear in mind
that the naturalists on board the Discovery learned much about the
breeding habits of the largest living member of the ancient penguin
family. Amongst other things it was ascertained (1) that in the case of
the Emperor, as in the King Penguin, the egg during the period of
incubation rests on the upper surface of the feet protected and kept in
position by a fold of skin from the lower breast; and (2) that in the
case of the Emperor the whole process of incubation is carried out on sea
ice during the coldest and darkest months of the antarctic winter.

"After devoting much time to the study of penguins Dr. Wilson came to the
conclusion that Emperor embryos would throw new light on the origin and
history of birds, and decided that if he again found his way to the
Antarctic he would make a supreme effort to visit an Emperor rookery
during the breeding season. When, and under what conditions, the Cape
Crozier rookery was eventually visited and Emperor eggs secured is
graphically told in The Winter Journey. The question now arises, Has 'the
weirdest bird's-nesting expedition that has ever been made' added
appreciably to our knowledge of birds?

"It is admitted that birds are descended from bipedal reptiles which
flourished some millions of years ago--reptiles in build not unlike the
kangaroo. From Archaeopteryx of Jurassic times we know primeval birds had
teeth, three fingers with claws on each hand, and a long lizard-like tail
provided with nearly twenty pairs of well-formed true feathers. But
unfortunately neither this lizard-tailed bird, nor yet the fossil birds
found in America, throw any light on the origin of feathers.
Ornithologists and others who have devoted much time to the study of
birds have as a rule assumed that feathers were made out of scales, that
the scales along the margin of the hand and forearm and along each side
of the tail were elongated, frayed and otherwise modified to form the
wing and tail quills, and that later other scales were altered to provide
a coat capable of preventing loss of heat. But as it happens, a study of
the development of feathers affords no evidence that they were made out
of scales. There are neither rudiments of scales nor feathers in very
young bird embryos. In the youngest of the three Emperor embryos there
are, however, feather rudiments in the tail region,--the embryo was
probably seven or eight days old--but in the two older embryos there are
a countless number of feather rudiments, i.e. of minute pimples known
as papillae.

"In penguins as in many other birds there are two distinct crops of
feather papillae, viz.: a crop of relatively large papillae which develop
into prepennae, the forerunners of true feathers (pennae), and a crop of
small papillae which develop into preplumulae, the forerunners of true
down feathers (plumulae).

"In considering the origin of feathers we are not concerned with the true
feathers (pennae), but with the nestling feathers (prepennae), and more
especially with the papillae from which the prepennae are developed. What
we want to know is, Do the papillae which in birds develop into the
first generation of feathers correspond to the papillae which in lizards
develop into scales?

"The late Professor Assheton, who undertook the examination of some of
the material brought home by the Terra Nova, made a special study of the
feather papillae of the Emperor Penguin embryos from Cape Crozier.
Drawings were made to indicate the number, size and time of appearance of
the feather papillae, but unfortunately in the notes left by the
distinguished embryologist there is no indication whether the feather
papillae were regarded as modified scale papillae or new creations
resulting from the appearance of special feather-forming factors in the
germ-plasm.

"When eventually the three Emperor Penguin embryos reached me that their
feather rudiments might be compared with the feather rudiments of other
birds, I noticed that in Emperor embryos the feather papillae appeared
before the scale papillae. Evidence of this was especially afforded by
the largest embryo, which had reached about the same stage in its
development as a 16-days goose embryo.

"In the largest Emperor embryo feather papillae occur all over the
hind-quarters and on the legs to within a short distance of the tarsal
joint. Beyond the tarsal joint even in the largest embryo no attempt had
been made to produce the papillae which in older penguin embryos
represent, and ultimately develop into, the scaly covering of the foot.
The absence of papillae on the foot implied either that the scale
papillae were fundamentally different from feather papillae or that for
some reason or other the development of the papillae destined to give
rise to the foot scales had been retarded. There is no evidence as far as
I can ascertain that in modern lizards the scale papillae above the
tarsal joint appear before the scale papillae beyond this joint.

"The absence of papillae below the tarsal joint in Emperor embryos,
together with the fact that in many birds each large feather papilla is
accompanied by two or more very small feather papillae, led me to study
the papillae of the limbs of other birds. The most striking results were
obtained from the embryos of Chinese geese in which the legs are
relatively longer than in penguins. In a 13-days goose embryo the whole
of the skin below and for some distance above the tarsal joint is quite
smooth, whereas the skin of the rest of the leg is studded with feather
papillae. On the other hand, in an 18-days goose embryo in which the
feather papillae of the legs have developed into filaments, each
containing a fairly well-formed feather, scale papillae occur not only on
the foot below and for some distance above the tarsal joint but also
between the roots of the feather filaments between the tarsal and the
knee joints. More important still, in a 20-days goose embryo a number of
the papillae situated between the feather filaments of the leg were
actually developing into scales each of which overlapped the root
(calamus) of a feather just as scales overlap the foot feathers in grouse
and other feather-footed birds.

"As in bird embryos there is no evidence that feather papillae ever
develop into scales or that scale papillae ever develop into feathers it
may be assumed that feather papillae are fundamentally different from
scale papillae, the difference presumably being due to the presence of
special factors in the germ-plasm. Just as in armadillos hairs are found
emerging from under the scales, in ancient birds as in the feet of some
modern birds the coat probably consisted of both feathers and scales. But
in course of time, owing perhaps to the growth of the scales being
arrested, the coat of the birds, instead of consisting throughout of
well-developed scales and small inconspicuous feathers, was almost
entirely made up of a countless number of downy feathers, well-developed
scales only persisting below the tarsal joint.

"If the conclusions arrived at with the help of the Emperor Penguin
embryos about the origin of feathers are justified, the worst journey in
the world in the interest of science was not made in vain."

*       *       *       *       *

END OF VOLUME ONE

_Printed in Great Britain by_ R. & R. CLARK, LIMITED, _Edinburgh._




[Illustration: A HALO ROUND THE MOON--E. A. Wilson, del.]




THE WORST JOURNEY

IN THE WORLD

ANTARCTIC

1910-1913

BY

APSLEY CHERRY-GARRARD

WITH PANORAMAS, MAPS, AND ILLUSTRATIONS BY THE LATE

DOCTOR EDWARD A. WILSON AND OTHER MEMBERS OF THE EXPEDITION

IN TWO VOLUMES


VOLUME TWO

CONSTABLE AND COMPANY LIMITED

LONDON BOMBAY SYDNEY

_First published 1922_

PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN




CONTENTS

PAGE
CHAPTER  VIII     SPRING                                           301
CHAPTER    IX     THE POLAR JOURNEY.   I. THE BARRIER STAGE        317
CHAPTER     X     THE POLAR JOURNEY.  II. THE BEARDMORE GLACIER    350
CHAPTER    XI     THE POLAR JOURNEY. III. THE PLATEAU TO 87 deg. 32' S 368
CHAPTER   XII     THE POLAR JOURNEY.  IV. RETURNING PARTIES        380
CHAPTER  XIII     SUSPENSE                                         408
CHAPTER   XIV     THE LAST WINTER                                  436
CHAPTER    XV     ANOTHER SPRING                                   459
CHAPTER   XVI     THE SEARCH JOURNEY                               472
CHAPTER  XVII     THE POLAR JOURNEY. V. THE POLE AND AFTER         496
CHAPTER XVIII     THE POLAR JOURNEY. VI. FARTHEST SOUTH            527
CHAPTER   XIX     NEVER AGAIN                                      543
GLOSSARY                                                           579
INDEX                                                              581




ILLUSTRATIONS

A Halo round the Moon, showing vertical and horizontal shafts
and mock Moons.                                       _Frontispiece_
_From a water-colour drawing by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._

FACING PAGE

Camp on the Barrier. November 22, 1911. A rough sketch
for future use.                                                 322
_From a sketch by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._

Parhelia. For description, see text. November 14, 1911. A
rough sketch for future use.                                    332
_From a sketch by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._

PLATE III. The Mountains which lie between the Barrier and
the Plateau as seen on December 1, 1911.                        338
_From sketches by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._

A Pony Camp on the Barrier.                                         346

The Dog Teams leaving the Beardmore Glacier. Mount Hope
and the Gateway before them.                                    346
_From photographs by C. S. Wright._

PLATE IV. Transit sketch for the Lower Glacier Depot.
December 11, 1911. Showing the Pillar Rock, mainland
mountains, the Gateway or Gap, and the beginning of the
main Beardmore Glacier outlet on to the Barrier.                352
_From sketches by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._

PLATE V. Mount F. L. Smith and the land to the North-West.
December 12, 1911.                                              354
_From sketches by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._

PLATE VI. Mount Elizabeth, Mount Anne and Socks Glacier.
December 13, 1911.                                              356
_From sketches by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._

Mount Patrick. December 16, 1911.                                   358
_From a sketch by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._

PLATE VII. From Mount Deakin to Mount Kinsey, showing
the outlet of the Keltie Glacier, and Mount Usher in the
distance. December 19, 1911.                                    362
_From sketches by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._

Our night Camp at the foot of the Buckley Island ice-falls.
December 20, 1911. Buckley Island in the background.
Note ablation pits in the snow.                                 364
_From a photograph by C. S. Wright._

The Adams Mountains.                                                382

The First Return Party on the Beardmore Glacier.                    382
_From photographs by C. S. Wright._

Camp below the Cloudmaker. Note pressure ridges in the
middle distance.                                                390
_From a photograph by C. S. Wright._

PLATE VIII. From Mount Kyffin to Mount Patrick. December
14, 1911.                                                       392
_From sketches by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._

View from Arrival Heights northwards to Cape Evans and the
Dellbridge Islands.                                             428

Cape Royds from Cape Barne, with the frozen McMurdo Sound.          428
_From photographs by F. Debenham._

Cape Evans in Winter. This view is drawn when looking
northwards from under the Ramp.                                 440
_From a water-colour drawing by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._

North Bay and the snout of the Barne Glacier from Cape Evans.       448
_From a photograph by F. Debenham._

The Mule Party leaves Cape Evans. October 29, 1912.                 472
_From a photograph by F. Debenham._

The Dog Party leaves Hut Point. November 1, 1912.                   478
_From a photograph by F. Debenham._

"Atch": E. L. Atkinson, commanding the Main Landing
Party after the death of Scott.                                 492

"Titus" Oates.                                                      492
_From photographs by C. S. Wright._