so.
"Wright's pony was the first harnessed to its sledge. Chinaman is Jehu's
rival for last place, and as some compensation is easy to harness. Seaman
Evans led Snatcher, who used to rush ahead and take the lead as soon as
he was harnessed. Cherry had Michael, a steady goer, and Wilson led
Nobby--the pony rescued from the killer whales in March. Scott led out
Snippets to the sledges, and harnessed him to the foremost, with little
Anton's help--only it turned out to be Bowers' sledge! However he
transferred in a few minutes and marched off rapidly to the south.
Christopher, as usual, behaved like a demon. First they had to trice his
front leg up tight under his shoulder, then it took five minutes to throw
him. The sledge was brought up and he was harnessed in while his head was
held down on the floe. Finally he rose up, still on three legs, and
started off galloping as well as he was able. After several violent kicks
his foreleg was released, and after more watch-spring flicks with his
hind legs he set off fairly steadily. Titus can't stop him when once he
has started, and will have to do the fifteen miles in one lap probably!

"Dear old Titus--that was my last memory of him. Imperturbable as ever;
never hasty, never angry, but soothing that vicious animal, and
determined to get the best out of most unpromising material in his
endeavour to do his simple duty.

"Bowers was last to leave. His pony, Victor, nervous but not vicious, was
soon in the traces. I ran to the end of the Cape and watched the little
cavalcade--already strung out into remote units--rapidly fade into the
lonely white waste to southward.

"That evening I had a chat with Wilson over the telephone from the
Discovery Hut--my last communication with those five gallant
spirits."[181]

All the ponies arrived at Hut Point by 4 P.M., just in time to escape a
stiff blow. Three of them were housed with ourselves inside the hut, the
rest being put into the verandah. The march showed that with their loads
the speed of the different ponies varied to such an extent that
individuals were soon separated by miles. "It reminded me of a regatta or
a somewhat disorganized fleet with ships of very unequal speed."[182]

It was decided to change to night marching, and the following evening we
proceeded in the following order, which was the way of our going for the
present. The three slowest ponies started first, namely, Jehu with
Atkinson, Chinaman with Wright, James Pigg with Keohane. This party was
known as the Baltic Fleet.

Two hours later Scott's party followed; Scott with Snippets, Wilson with
Nobby, and myself with Michael.

Both these parties camped for lunch in the middle of the night's march.
After another hour the remaining four men set to work to get Christopher
into his sledge; when he was started they harnessed in their own ponies
as quickly as possible and followed, making a non-stop run right through
the night's march. It was bad for men and ponies, but it was impossible
to camp in the middle of the march owing to Christopher. The composition
of this party was, Oates with Christopher, Bowers with Victor, Seaman
Evans with Snatcher, Crean with Bones.

Each of these three parties was self-contained with tent, cooker and
weekly bag, and the times of starting were so planned that the three
parties arrived at the end of the march about the same time.

There was a strong head wind and low drift as we rounded Cape Armitage on
our way to the Barrier and the future. Probably there were few of us who
did not wonder when we should see the old familiar place again.

Scott's party camped at Safety Camp as the Baltic fleet were getting
under weigh again. Soon afterwards Ponting appeared with a dog sledge and
a cinematograph,--how anomalous it seemed--which "was up in time to catch
the flying rearguard which came along in fine form, Snatcher leading and
being stopped every now and again--a wonderful little beast. Christopher
had given the usual trouble when harnessed, but was evidently subdued by
the Barrier Surface. However, it was not thought advisable to halt him,
and so the party fled through in the wake of the advance guard."[183]

Immediately afterwards Scott's party packed up. "Good-bye and good luck,"
from Ponting, a wave of the hand not holding in a frisky pony and we had
left the last link with the hut. "The future is in the lap of the gods; I
can think of nothing left undone to deserve success."[184]

The general scheme was to average 10 miles (11.5 statute) a day from Hut
Point to One Ton Depot with the ponies lightly laden. From One Ton to the
Gateway a daily average of 13 miles (15 statute) was necessary to carry
twenty-four weekly units of food for four men each to the bottom of the
glacier. This was the Barrier Stage of the journey, a distance of 369
miles (425 statute) as actually run on our sledge-meter. The twenty-four
weekly units of food were to carry the Polar Party and two supporting
parties forward to their farthest point, and back again to the bottom of
the Beardmore, where three more units were to be left in a depot.[185]

All went well this first day on the Barrier, and encouraging messages
left on empty petrol drums told us that the motors were going well when
they passed. But the next day we passed five petrol drums which had been
dumped. This meant that there was trouble, and some 14 miles from Hut
Point we learned that the big end of the No. 2 cylinder of Day's motor
had broken, and half a mile beyond we found the motor itself, drifted up
with snow, and looking a mournful wreck. The next day's march (Sunday,
November 5, A.M.) brought us to Corner Camp. There were a few legs down
crevasses during the day but nothing to worry about.

From here we could see to the South an ominous mark in the snow which we
hoped might not prove to be the second motor. It was: "the big end of No.
1 cylinder had cracked, the machine otherwise in good order. Evidently
the engines are not fitted to working in this climate, a fact that should
be certainly capable of correction. One thing is proved; the system of
propulsion is altogether satisfactory."[186] And again: "It is a
disappointment. I had hoped better of the machines once they got away on
the Barrier Surface."[187]

Scott had set his heart upon the success of the motors. He had run them
in Norway and Switzerland; and everything was done that care and
forethought could suggest. At the back of his mind, I feel sure, was the
wish to abolish the cruelty which the use of ponies and dogs necessarily
entails. "A small measure of success will be enough to show their
possibilities, their ability to revolutionize polar transport. Seeing the
machines at work to-day [leaving Cape Evans] and remembering that every
defect so far shown is purely mechanical, it is impossible not to be
convinced of their value. But the trifling mechanical defects and lack of
experience show the risk of cutting out trials. A season of experiment
with a small workshop at hand may be all that stands between success and
failure."[188] I do not believe that Scott built high hopes on these
motors: but it was a chance to help those who followed him. Scott was
always trying to do that.

Did they succeed or fail? They certainly did not help us much, the motor
which travelled farthest drawing a heavy load to just beyond Corner Camp.
But even so fifty statute miles is fifty miles, and that they did it at
all was an enormous advance. The distance travelled included hard and
soft surfaces, and we found later when the snow bridges fell in during
the summer that this car had crossed safely some broad crevasses. Also
they worked in temperatures down to -30 deg. Fahr. All this was to the good,
for no motor-driven machine had travelled on the Barrier before. The
general design seemed to be right, all that was now wanted was
experience. As an experiment they were successful in the South, but Scott
never knew their true possibilities; for they were the direct ancestors
of the 'tanks' in France.

Night-marching had its advantages and disadvantages. The ponies were
pulling in the colder part of the day and resting in the warm, which was
good. Their coats dried well in the sun, and after a few days to get
accustomed to the new conditions, they slept and fed in comparative
comfort. On the other hand the pulling surface was undoubtedly better
when the sun was high and the temperature warmer. Taking one thing with
another there was no doubt that night-marching was better for ponies, but
we seldom if ever tried it man-hauling.

[Illustration: CAMP ON THE BARRIER--E. A. Wilson, del.]

Just now there was an amazing difference between day and night
conditions. At midnight one was making short work of everything, nursing
fingers after doing up harness with minus temperatures and nasty cold
winds: by supper time the next morning we were sitting on our sledges
writing up our diaries or meteorological logs, and even dabbling our bare
toes in the snow, but not for long! Shades of darkness! How different all
this was from what we had been through. My personal impression of this
early summer sledging on the Barrier was one of constant wonder at its
comfort. One had forgotten that a tent could be warm and a sleeping-bag
dry: so deep were the contrary impressions that only actual experience
was convincing. "It is a sweltering day, the air breathless, the glare
intense--one loses sight of the fact that the temperature is low [-22 deg.],
one's mind seeks comparison in hot sunlit streets and scorching
pavements, yet six hours ago my thumb was frost-bitten. All the
inconveniences of frozen footwear and damp clothes and sleeping-bags have
vanished entirely."[189]

We could not expect to get through this windy area of Corner Camp without
some bad weather. The wind-blown surface improved, the ponies took their
heavier loads with ease, but as we came to our next camp it was banking
up to the S.E. and the breeze freshened almost immediately. We built pony
walls hurriedly and by the time we had finished supper it was blowing
force 5 (A.M. November 6, Camp 4). There was a moderate gale with some
drift all day which increased to force 8 with more drift at night. It was
impossible to march. The drift took off a bit the next morning, and
Meares and Dimitri with the two dog-teams appeared and camped astern of
us. This was according to previous plan by which the dog-teams were to
start after us and catch us up, since they travelled faster than the
ponies. "The snow and drift necessitated digging out ponies again and
again to keep them well sheltered from the wind. The walls made a
splendid lee, but some sledges at the extremities were buried altogether,
and our tent being rather close to windward of our wall got the back eddy
and was continually being snowed up above the door. After noon the snow
ceased except for surface drift. Snatcher knocked his section of the wall
over, and Jehu did so more than ever. All ponies looked pretty miserable,
as in spite of the shelter they were bunged up, eyes and all, in drift
which had become ice and could not be removed without considerable
difficulty."[190]

Towards evening it ceased drifting altogether, but a wind, force 4, kept
up with disconcerting regularity. Eventually Atkinson's party got away at
midnight. "Castle Rock is still visible, but will be closed by the north
end of White Island in the next march--then good-bye to the old landmarks
for many a long day."[191]

The next day (November 8-9) "started at midnight and had a very pleasant
march. Truly sledging in such weather is great. Mounts Discovery and
Morning, which we gradually closed, looked fine in the general panorama
of mountains. We are now nearly abreast the north end of the Bluff. We
all came up to camp together this morning: it looked like a meet of the
hounds, and Jehu ran away!!!"[192]

The next march was just the opposite. Wind force 5 to 6 and falling snow.
"The surface was very slippery in parts and on the hard sastrugi it was a
case of falling or stumbling continually. The light got so bad that one
might have been walking in the clouds for all that could be discerned,
and yet it was only snowing slightly. The Bluff became completely
obscured, and the usual signs of a blizzard were accentuated.

"At lunch camp Scott packed up and followed us. We overhauled Atkinson
about 11/2 hours later, he having camped, and we were not sorry, as in
addition to marching against a fresh southerly breeze the light brought a
tremendous strain on the eyes in following tracks."[193] A little more
than eight miles for the day's total.

We carried these depressing conditions for three more marches, that is
till the morning of November 13. The surface was wretched, the weather
horrid, the snow persistent, covering everything with soft downy flakes,
inch upon inch, and mile upon mile. There are glimpses of despondency in
the diaries. "If this should come as an exception, our luck will be truly
awful. The camp is very silent and cheerless, signs that things are going
awry."[194] "The weather was horrid, overcast, gloomy, snowy. One's
spirits became very low."[195] "I expected these marches to be a little
difficult, but not near so bad as to-day."[196] Indefinite conditions
always tried Scott most: positive disasters put him into more cheerful
spirits than most. In the big gale coming South when the ship nearly
sank, and when we lost one of the cherished motors through the sea-ice,
his was one of the few cheerful faces I saw. Even when the ship ran
aground off Cape Evans he was not despondent. But this kind of thing
irked him. Bowers wrote: "The unpleasant weather and bad surface, and
Chinaman's indisposition, combined to make the outlook unpleasant, and on
arrival [in camp] I was not surprised to find that Scott had a grievance.
He felt that in arranging the consumption of forage his own unit had not
been favoured with the same reduction as ours, in fact accused me of
putting upon his three horses to save my own. We went through the weights
in detail after our meal, and, after a certain amount of argument,
decided to carry on as we were going. I can quite understand his
feelings, and after our experience of last year a bad day like this makes
him fear our beasts are going to fail us. The Talent [i.e. the doctors]
examined Chinaman, who begins to show signs of wear. Poor ancient little
beggar, he ought to be a pensioner instead of finishing his days on a job
of this sort. Jehu looks pretty rocky too, but seeing that we did not
expect him to reach the Glacier Tongue, and that he has now done more
than 100 miles from Cape Evans, one really does not know what to expect
of these creatures. Certainly Titus thinks, as he has always said, that
they are the most unsuitable scrap-heap crowd of unfit creatures that
could possibly be got together."[197]

"The weather was about as poisonous as one could wish; a fresh breeze and
driving snow from the E. with an awful surface. The recently fallen snow
thickly covered the ground with powdery stuff that the unfortunate ponies
fairly wallowed in. If it was only ourselves to consider I should not
mind a bit, but to see our best ponies being hit like this at the start
is most distressing. A single march like that of last night must shorten
their usefulness by days, and here we are a fortnight out, and barely
one-third of the distance to the glacier covered, with every pony showing
signs of wear. Victor looks a lean and lanky beast compared with his
condition two weeks ago."[198]

But the ponies began to go better; and it was about this time that Jehu
was styled the Barrier Wonder, and Chinaman the Thunderbolt. "Our four
ponies have suffered most," writes Bowers. "I don't agree with Titus that
it is best to march them right through without a lunch camp. They were
undoubtedly pretty tired, and worst of all did not go their feeds
properly. It was a fine warm morning for them (Nov. 13); +15 deg., our
warmest temperature hitherto. In the afternoon it came on to snow in
large flakes like one would get at home. I have never seen such snow down
here before; it makes the surface very bad for the sledges. The ponies'
manes and rugs were covered in little knots of ice."

The next march (November 13-14) was rather better, though the going was
very deep and heavy, and all the ponies were showing signs of wear and
tear. This was followed by a delightfully warm day, and all the animals
were standing drowsily in the sunshine. We could see the land far away
behind us, the first sight of land we had had for many days. On November
15 we reached One Ton Depot, having travelled a hundred and thirty miles
from Hut Point.

The two sledges left standing were still upright, and the tattered
remains of a flag flapped over the main cairn. In a salt tin lashed to
the bamboo flag-pole was a note from Lieutenant Evans to say that he had
gone on with the motor party five days before, and would continue
man-hauling to 80 deg. 30' S. and await us there. "He has done something over
30 miles in 21/2 days--exceedingly good going."[199] We dug out the cairn,
which we found just as we had left it except that there was a big tongue
of drift, level with the top of the cairn to leeward, and running about
150 yards to N.E., showing that the prevailing wind here is S.W. Nine
months before we had sprinkled some oats on the surface of the snow
hoping to get a measurement of the accretion of snow during the winter.
Unfortunately we were unable to find the oats again, but other evidence
went to show that the snow deposit was very small. A minimum thermometer
which was lashed with great care to a framework registered -73 deg.. After
the temperatures already experienced by us on the Barrier during the
winter and spring this was surprisingly high, especially as our minimum
temperatures were taken under the sledge, which means that the
thermometer is shaded from radiation, while this thermometer at One Ton
was left open to the sky. On the Winter Journey we found that a shaded
thermometer registered -69 deg. when an unshaded one registered -75 deg., a
difference of 6 deg.. All the provisions left here were found to be in
excellent condition.

We then had a prolonged council of war. This meant that Scott called
Bowers, and perhaps Oates, into our tent after supper was finished in the
morning. Somehow these conferences were always rather serio-comic. On
this occasion, as was usually the case, the question was ponies. It was
decided to wait here one day and rest them, as there was ample food. The
main discussion centred round the amount of forage to be taken on from
here, while the state of the ponies, the amount they could pull and the
distance they could go had to be taken into consideration.

"Oates thinks the ponies will get through, but that they have lost
condition quicker than he expected. Considering his usually pessimistic
attitude this must be thought a hopeful view. Personally I am much more
hopeful. I think that a good many of the beasts are actually in better
form than when they started, and that there is no need to be alarmed
about the remainder, always excepting the weak ones which we have always
regarded with doubt. Well, we must wait and see how things go."[200]

The decision made was to take just enough food to get the ponies to the
glacier, allowing for the killing of some of them before that date. It
was obvious that Jehu and Chinaman could not go very much farther, and
it was also necessary that ponies should be killed in order to feed the
dogs. The two dog-teams were carrying about a week's pony food, but they
were unable to advance more than a fortnight from One Ton without killing
ponies.

This decision practically meant that Scott abandoned the idea of taking
ponies up the glacier. This was a great relief, for the crevassed state
of the lower reaches of the glacier as described by Shackleton led us to
believe that the attempt was suicidal. All the winter our brains were
exercised to try and devise some method by which the ponies could be
driven from behind, and by which the connection between pony and sledge
could be loosed if the pony fell into a crevasse, but I confess that
there seemed little chance of this happening. From all we saw of the
glacier I am convinced that there is no reasonable chance of getting
ponies up it, and that dogs could only be driven down it if the way up
was most carefully surveyed and kept on the return. I am sure that in
this kind of uncertainty the mental strain on the leader of a party is
less than that on his men. The leader knows quite well what he thinks
worth while risking or not: in this case Scott probably was always of the
opinion that it would not be worth while taking ponies on to the glacier.
The pony leaders, however, only knew that the possibility was ahead of
them. I can remember now the relief with which we heard that it was not
intended that Wilson should take Nobby, the fittest of our ponies,
farther than the Gateway.

Up to now Christopher had lived up to his reputation, as the following
extracts from Bowers' diary will show: "Three times we downed him, and he
got up and threw us about, with all four of us hanging on like grim
death. He nearly had me under him once; he seems fearfully strong, but it
is a pity he wastes so much good energy.... Christopher, as usual, was
strapped on three legs and then got down on his knees. He gets more
cunning each time, and if he does not succeed in biting or kicking one of
us before long it won't be his fault. He finds the soft snow does not
hurt his knees like the sea-ice, and so plunges about on them _ad lib_.
One's finnesko are so slippery that it is difficult to exert full
strength on him, and to-day he bowled Oates over and got away altogether.
Fortunately the lashing on his fourth leg held fast, and we were able to
secure him when he rejoined the other animals. Finally he lay down, and
thought he had defeated us, but we had the sledge connected up by that
time, and as he got up we rushed him forward before he had time to kick
over the traces.... Dimitri came and gave us a hand with Chris. Three of
us hung on to him while the other two connected up the sledge. We had a
struggle for over twenty minutes, and he managed to tread on me, but no
damage done.... Got Chris in by a dodge. Titus did away with his back
strap, and nearly had him away unaided before he realized that the hated
sledge was fast to him. Unfortunately he started off just too soon, and
bolted with only one trace fast. This pivoted him to starboard, and he
charged the line. I expected a mix-up, but he stopped at the wall between
Bones and Snatcher, and we cast off and cleared sledge before trying
again. By laying the traces down the side of the sledge instead of ahead
we got him off his guard again, and he was away before he knew what had
occurred.... We had a bad time with Chris again. He remembered having
been bluffed before, and could not be got near the sledge at all. Three
times he broke away, but fortunately he always ran back among the other
ponies, and not out on to the Barrier. Finally we had to down him, and he
was so tired with his recent struggles that after one abortive attempt we
got him fast and away."

Meanwhile it was not so much the difficulties of sledging as the
depressing blank conditions in which our march was so often made, that
gave us such troubles as we had. The routine of a tent makes a lot of
difference. Scott's tent was a comfortable one to live in, and I was
always glad when I was told to join it, and sorry to leave. He was
himself extraordinarily quick, and no time was ever lost by his party in
camping or breaking camp. He was most careful, some said over-careful
but I do not think so, that everything should be neat and shipshape, and
there was a recognized place for everything. On the Depot Journey we were
bidden to see that every particle of snow was beaten off our clothing and
finnesko before entering the tent: if it was drifting we had to do this
after entering and the snow was carefully cleared off the floor-cloth.
Afterwards each tent was supplied with a small brush with which to
perform this office. In addition to other obvious advantages this
materially helped to keep clothing, finnesko, and sleeping-bags dry, and
thus prolong the life of furs. "After all is said and done," said Wilson
one day after supper, "the best sledger is the man who sees what has to
be done, and does it--and says nothing about it." Scott agreed. And if
you were "sledging with the Owner" you had to keep your eyes wide open
for the little things which cropped up, and do them quickly, and say
nothing about them. There is nothing so irritating as the man who is
always coming in and informing all and sundry that he has repaired his
sledge, or built a wall, or filled the cooker, or mended his socks.

I moved into Scott's tent for the first time in the middle of the Depot
Journey, and was enormously impressed by the comfort which a careful
routine of this nature evoked. There was a homelike air about the tent at
supper time, and, though a lunch camp in the middle of the night is
always rather bleak, there was never anything slovenly. Another thing
which struck me even more forcibly was the cooking. We were of course on
just the same ration as the tent from which I had come. I was hungry and
said so. "Bad cooking," said Wilson shortly; and so it was. For in two or
three days the sharpest edge was off my hunger. Wilson and Scott had
learned many a cooking tip in the past, and, instead of the same old meal
day by day, the weekly ration was so manoeuvred by a clever cook that
it was seldom quite the same meal. Sometimes pemmican plain, or thicker
pemmican with some arrowroot mixed with it: at others we surrendered a
biscuit and a half apiece and had a dry hoosh, i.e. biscuit fried in
pemmican with a little water added, and a good big cup of cocoa to
follow. Dry hooshes also saved oil. There were cocoa and tea upon which
to ring the changes, or better still 'teaco' which combined the
stimulating qualities of tea with the food value of cocoa. Then much
could be done with the dessert-spoonful of raisins which was our daily
whack. They were good soaked in the tea, but best perhaps in with the
biscuits and pemmican as a dry hoosh. "You are going far to earn my
undying gratitude, Cherry," was a satisfied remark of Scott one evening
when, having saved, unbeknownst to my companions, some of their daily
ration of cocoa, arrowroot, sugar and raisins, I made a "chocolate
hoosh." But I am afraid he had indigestion next morning. There were meals
when we had interesting little talks, as when I find in my diary that:
"we had a jolly lunch meal, discussing authors. Barrie, Galsworthy and
others are personal friends of Scott. Some one told Max Beerbohm that he
was like Captain Scott, and immediately, so Scott assured us, he grew a
beard."

But about three weeks out the topics of conversation became threadbare.
From then onwards it was often that whole days passed without
conversation beyond the routine Camp ho! All ready? Pack up. Spell ho.
The latter after some two hours' pulling. When man-hauling we used to
start pulling immediately we had the tent down, the sledge packed and our
harness over our bodies and ski on our feet. After about a quarter of an
hour the effects of the marching would be felt in the warming of hands
and feet and the consequent thawing of our mitts and finnesko. We then
halted long enough for everybody to adjust their ski and clothing: then
on, perhaps for two hours or more, before we halted again.

Since it had been decided to lighten the ponies' weights, we left at
least 100 lbs. of pony forage behind when we started from One Ton on the
night of November 16-17 on our first 13-mile march. This was a distinct
saving, and instead of 695 lbs. each with which the six stronger ponies
left Corner Camp, they now pulled only 625 lbs. Jehu had only 455 lbs.
and Chinaman 448 lbs. The dog-teams had 860 lbs. of pony food between
them, and according to plan the two teams were to carry 1570 lbs. from
One Ton between them. These weights included the sledges, with straps and
fittings, which weighed about 45 lbs.

Summer seemed long in coming for we marched into a considerable breeze
and the temperature was -18 deg.. Oates and Seaman Evans had quite a crop of
frost-bites. I pointed out to Meares that his nose was gone; but he left
it, saying that he had got tired of it, and it would thaw out by and by.
The ponies were going better for their rest. The next day's march was
over crusty snow with a layer of loose powdery snow at the top, and a
temperature of -21 deg. was chilly. Towards the end of it Scott got
frightened that the ponies were not going as well as they should. Another
council of war was held, and it was decided that an average of thirteen
miles a day must be done at all costs, and that another sack of forage
should be dumped here, putting the ponies on short rations later, if
necessary. Oates agreed, but said the ponies were going better than he
expected: that Jehu and Chinaman might go a week, and almost certainly
would go three days. Bowers was always against this dumping. Meanwhile
Scott wrote: "It's touch and go whether we scrape up to the glacier;
meanwhile we get along somehow."[201]

[Illustration: PARHELIA--E. A. Wilson, del.]

As a result of one of Christopher's tantrums Bowers records that his
sledge-meter was carried away this morning: "I took my sledge-meter into
the tent after breakfast and rigged up a fancy lashing with raw hide
thongs so as to give it the necessary play with security. A splendid
parhelia exhibition was caused by the ice-crystals. Round the sun was a
22 deg. halo [that is a halo 22 deg. from the sun's image], with four mock suns
in rainbow colours, and outside this another halo in complete rainbow
colours. Above the sun were the arcs of two other circles touching these
halos, and the arcs of the great all-round circle could be seen faintly
on either side. Below was a dome-shaped glare of white which contained an
exaggerated mock sun, which was as dazzling as the sun himself.
Altogether a fine example of a pretty common phenomenon down here."
And the next day: "We saw the party ahead in inverted mirage some
distance above their heads."

In the next three marches we covered our daily 13 miles, for the most
part without very great difficulty. But poor Jehu was in a bad way,
stopping every few hundred yards. It was a funereal business for the
leaders of these crock ponies; and at this stage of the journey Atkinson,
Wright and Keohane had many more difficulties than most of us, and the
success of their ponies was largely due to their patience and care.
Incidentally big icicles formed upon the ponies' noses during the march
and Chinaman used Wright's windproof blouse as a handkerchief. During the
last of these marches, that is on the morning of November 21, we saw a
massive cairn ahead, and found there the motor party, consisting of
Lieutenant Evans, Day, Lashly and Hooper. The cairn was in 80 deg. 32', and
under the name Mount Hooper formed our Upper Barrier Depot. We left there
three S (summit) rations, two cases of emergency biscuits and two cases
of oil, which constituted three weekly food units for the three parties
which were to advance from the bottom of the Beardmore Glacier. This food
was to take them back from 80 deg. 32' to One Ton Camp. We all camped for the
night 3 miles farther on: sixteen men, five tents, ten ponies,
twenty-three dogs and thirteen sledges.

The man-hauling party had been waiting for six days; and, having expected
us before, were getting anxious about us. They declared that they were
very hungry, and Day, who was always long and thin, looked quite gaunt.
Some spare biscuits which we gave them from our tent were carried off
with gratitude. The rest of us who were driving dogs or leading ponies
still found our Barrier ration satisfying.

We had now been out three weeks and had travelled 192 miles, and formed a
very good idea as to what the ponies could do. The crocks had done
wonderfully:--"We hope Jehu will last three days; he will then be
finished in any case and fed to the dogs. It is amusing to see Meares
looking eagerly for the chance of a feed for his animals; he has been
expecting it daily. On the other hand, Atkinson and Oates are eager to
get the poor animal beyond the point at which Shackleton killed his first
beast. Reports on Chinaman are very favourable, and it really looks as
though the ponies are going to do what is hoped of them."[202] From first
to last Nobby, who was rescued from the floe, was the strongest pony we
had, and was now drawing a heavier load than any other pony by 50 lbs. He
was a well-shaped, contented kind of animal, misnamed a pony. Indeed
several of our beasts were too large to fit this description.
Christopher, of course, was wearing himself out quicker than most, but
all of them had lost a lot of weight in spite of the fact that they had
all the oats and oil-cake they could eat. Bowers writes of his pony:

"Victor, my pony, has taken to leading the line, like his opposite number
last season. He is a steady goer, and as gentle as a dear old sheep. I
can hardly realize the strenuous times I had with him only a month ago,
when it took about four of us to get him harnessed to a sledge, and two
of us every time with all our strength to keep him from bolting when in
it. Even at the start of the journey he was as nearly unmanageable as any
beast could be, and always liable to bolt from sheer excess of spirits.
He is more sober now after three weeks of featureless Barrier, but I
think I am more fond of him than ever. He has lost his rotundity, like
all the other horses, and is a long-legged, angular beast, very ugly as
horses go, but still I would not change him for any other."

The ponies were fed by their leaders at the lunch and supper halts, and
by Oates and Bowers during the sleep halt about four hours before we
marched. Several of them developed a troublesome habit of swinging their
nosebags off, some as soon as they were put on, others in their anxiety
to reach the corn still left uneaten in the bottom of the bag. We had to
lash their bags on to their headstalls. "Victor got hold of his head rope
yesterday, and devoured it: not because he is hungry, as he won't eat all
his allowance even now."[203]

The original intention was that Day and Hooper should return from 80 deg.
30', but it was now decided that their unit of four should remain intact
for a few days, and constitute a light man-hauling advance party to make
the track.

The weather was much more pleasant and we saw the sun most days, while I
note only one temperature below -20 deg. since leaving One Ton. The ponies
sank in a cruel distance some days, but we were certainly not overworking
them and they had as much food as they could eat. We knew the grim part
was to come, but we never realized how grim it was to be. From this
Northern Barrier Depot the ponies were mostly drawing less than 500 lbs.
and we had hopes of getting through to the glacier without much
difficulty. All depended on the weather, and just now it was glorious,
and the ponies were going steadily together. Jehu, the crockiest of the
crocks, was led back along the track and shot on the evening of November
24, having reached a point at least 15 miles beyond that where Shackleton
shot his first pony. When it is considered that it was doubtful whether
he could start at all this must be conceded to have been a triumph of
horse-management in which both Oates and Atkinson shared, though neither
so much as Jehu himself, for he must have had a good spirit to have
dragged his poor body so far. "A year's care and good feeding, three
weeks' work with good treatment, a reasonable load and a good ration, and
then a painless end. If anybody can call that cruel I cannot either
understand it or agree with them." Thus Bowers, who continues: "The
midnight sun reflected from the snow has started to burn my face and
lips. I smear them with hazeline before turning in, and find it a good
thing. Wearing goggles has absolutely prevented any recurrence of
snow-blindness. Captain Scott says they make me see everything through
rose-coloured spectacles."

We said good-bye to Day and Hooper next morning, and they set their faces
northwards and homewards.[204] Two-men parties on the Barrier are not
much fun. Day had certainly done his best about the motors and they had
helped us over a bad bit of initial surface. That night Scott wrote:
"Only a few more marches to feel safe in getting to our goal."[205] At
the lunch halt on November 26, in lat. 81 deg. 35', we left our Middle
Barrier Depot, containing one week's provisions for each returning unit
as at Mount Hooper, a reduction of 200 lbs. in our weights. The march
that day was very trying. "It is always rather dismal work walking over
the great snow plain when sky and surface merge in one pall of dead
whiteness, but it is cheering to be in such good company with everything
going on steadily and well."[206]

There was no doubt that the animals were tiring, and "a tired animal
makes a tired man, I find."[207] The next day (November 28) was no
better: "the most dismal start imaginable. Thick as a hedge, snow falling
and drifting with keen southerly wind."[208]

Bowers notes: "We have now run down a whole degree of latitude without a
fine day, or anything but clouds, mist, and driving snow from the south."
We certainly did have some difficult marches, one of the worst effects of
which was that we knew we must be making a winding course and we had to
pick up our depots on the return somehow. Here is a typical bad morning
from Bowers' diary:

"The first four miles of the march were utter misery for me, as Victor,
either through lassitude or because he did not like having to plug into
the wind, went as slow as a funeral horse. The light was so bad that
wearing goggles was most necessary, and the driving snow filled them up
as fast as you cleared them. I dropped a long way astern of the
cavalcade, could hardly see them at times through the snow, but the fear
that Victor, of all the beasts, should give out was like a nightmare. I
have always been used to starting later than the others by a quarter of a
mile, and catching them up. At the four-mile cairn I was about fed up to
the neck with it, but I said very little as everybody was so disgusted
with the weather and things in general that I saw that I was not the only
one in tribulation. Victor turned up trumps after that. He stepped out
and led the line in his old place, and at a good swinging pace
considering the surface, my temper and spirits improving at every step.
In the afternoon he went splendidly again, and finished up by rolling in
the snow when I had taken his harness off, a thing he has not done for
ten or twelve days. It certainly does not look like exhaustion!"

Indeed these days we were fighting for our marches, and Chinaman who was
killed this night seemed well out of it. He reached a point less than 90
miles from the glacier, though this was small comfort to him.

Stumbling and groping our way along as we had been during the last
blizzard we were totally unprepared for the sight which met us during our
next march on November 29. The great ramp of mountains which ran to the
west of us, and would soon bar our way to the South, partly cleared: and
right on top of us it seemed were the triple peaks of Mount Markham.
After some 300 miles of bleak, monotonous Barrier it was a wonderful
sight indeed. We camped at night in latitude 82 deg. 21' S., four miles
beyond Scott's previous Farthest South in 1902. Then they had the best of
luck in clear fine weather, which Shackleton has also recorded at this
stage of his southern journey.

It is curious to see how depressed all our diaries become when this bad
weather obtained, and how quickly we must have cheered up whenever the
sun came out. There is no doubt that a similar effect was produced upon
the ponies. Truth to tell, the mental strain upon those responsible was
very great in these early days, and there is little of outside interest
to relieve the mind. The crystal surface which was an invisible carpet
yesterday becomes a shining glorious sheet of many colours to-day: the
irregularities which caused you so many falls are now quite clear and you
step on or over them without a thought: and when there is added some of
the most wonderful scenery in the world it is hard to recall in the
enjoyment of the present how irritable and weary you felt only twenty
hours ago. The whisper of the sledge, the hiss of the primus, the smell
of the hoosh and the soft folds of your sleeping-bag: how jolly they can
all be, and generally were.

I would that I could once again
Around the cooker sit
And hearken to its soft refrain
And feel so jolly fit.

Instead of home-life's silken chains,
The uneventful round,
I long to be mid snow-swept plains,
In harness, outward bound.

With the pad, pad, pad, of fin'skoed feet,
With two hundred pounds per man,
Not enough hoosh or biscuit to eat,
Well done, lads! Up tent! Outspan.
(NELSON in _The South Polar Times._)

Certainly as we skirted these mountains, range upon range, during the
next two marches (November 30 and December 1), we felt we could have
little cause for complaint. They brought us to lat. 82 deg. 47' S., and here
we left our last depot on the Barrier, called the Southern Barrier Depot,
with a week's ration for each returning party as usual. "The man food is
enough for one week for each returning unit of four men, the next depot
beyond being the Middle Barrier Depot, 73 miles north. As we ought easily
to do over 100 miles a week on the return journey, there is little
likelihood of our having to go on short commons if all goes well."[209]
And this was what we all felt--until we found the Polar Party. This was
our twenty-seventh camp, and we had been out a month.

[Illustration: THE MOUNTAINS WHICH LIE BETWEEN THE BARRIER AND THE
PLATEAU AS SEEN ON DECEMBER 1, 1911--From the drawings by Dr. E. A.
Wilson, Emery Walker Limited, Collotypers.]

It was important that we should have fine clear weather during the next
few days when we should be approaching the land. On his previous southern
journey Scott had been prevented from reaching the range of mountains
which ran along to our right by a huge chasm. This phenomenon is known to
geologists as a shear crack and is formed by the movement of a glacier
away from the land which bounds it. In this case a mass of many hundred
miles of Barrier has moved away from the mountains, and the disturbance
is correspondingly great. Shackleton has described how he approached the
Gateway, as he named the passage between Mount Hope and the mainland, by
means of which he passed through on to the Beardmore Glacier. As he and
his companions were exploring the way they came upon an enormous chasm,
80 feet wide and 300 feet deep, which barred their path. Moving along to
the right they found a place where the chasm was filled with snow, and
here they crossed to the land some miles ahead. At our Southern Barrier
Depot we reckoned we were some forty-four miles from this Gateway and in
three more marches we hoped to be camped under this land.

Christopher was shot at the depot. He was the only pony who did not die
instantaneously. Perhaps Oates was not so calm as usual, for Chris was
his own horse though such a brute. Just as Oates fired he moved, and
charged into the camp with the bullet in his head. He was caught with
difficulty, nearly giving Keohane a bad bite, led back and finished. We
were well rid of him: while he was strong he fought, and once the Barrier
had tamed him, as we were not able to do, he never pulled a fair load. He
could have gone several more days, but there was not enough pony food to
take all the animals forward. We began to wonder if we had done right to
leave so much behind. Each pony provided at least four days' food for the
dog-teams, some of them more, and there was quite a lot of fat on
them--even on Jehu. This was comforting, as going to prove that their
hardships were not too great. Also we put the undercut into our own
hoosh, and it was very good, though we had little oil to cook it.

We had been starting later each night, in order that the transition from
night to day marching might be gradual. For we intended to march by day
when we started pulling up the glacier, and there were no ponies to rest
when the sun was high. It may be said therefore that our next march was
on December 2.

Before we started Scott walked over to Bowers. "I have come to a decision
which will shock you." Victor was to go at the end of the march, because
pony food was running so short. Birdie wrote at the end of the day:--He
"did a splendid march and kept ahead all day, and as usual marched into
camp first, pulling over 450 lbs. easily. It seemed an awful pity to have
to shoot a great strong animal, and it seemed like the irony of fate to
me, as I had been downed for over-provisioning the ponies with needless
excess of food, and the drastic reductions had been made against my
strenuous opposition up to the last. It is poor satisfaction to me to
know that I was right now that my horse is dead. Good old Victor! He has
always had a biscuit out of my ration, and he ate his last before the
bullet sent him to his rest. Here ends my second horse in 83 deg. S., not
quite so tragically as my first when the sea-ice broke up, but none the