Evans was rested, but a blizzard prevented this. On the morning of the
25th it was thick as a hedge, but it cleared enough to pack sledges in
the afternoon, and when we turned into our bags we could see Observation
Hill. We started at 2 A.M. that night.

I confess I had my misgivings. I had never driven one dog, let alone a
team of them; I knew nothing of navigation; and One Ton was a hundred and
thirty miles away, out in the middle of the Barrier and away from
landmarks. And so as we pushed our way out through the wind and drift
that night I felt there was a good deal to be hoped for, rather than to
be expected. But we got along very well, Dimitri driving his team in
front, as he did most of this journey, and picking up marks very
helpfully with his sharp eyes. In the low temperatures we met, the
glasses which I must wear are almost impossible, because of fogging. We
took three boxes of dog-biscuit from Safety Camp and another three boxes
from a point sixteen miles from Hut Point. Here we rested the dogs for a
few hours, and started again at 6 P.M. All day the light was appalling,
and the wind strong, but to my great relief we found Corner Camp after
four hours' more travelling, the flag showing plainly, though the cairn
itself was invisible when a hundred yards away. This was the last place
where there was any dog-food on the route, and the dogs got a good feed
after doing thirty-four miles (statute) for the day's run. This was more
than we had hoped: the only disquieting fact was that both the
sledge-meters which we had were working wrong: the better of the two
seemed however to be marking the total mileage fairly correctly at
present, though the hands which indicated more detailed information were
quite at sea. We had no minimum thermometer, but the present temperature
was -4 deg..

"_February 27._ Mount Terror has proved our friend to-day, for the slope
just above the Knoll has remained clear when everything else was covered,
and we have steered by that--behind us. It seemed, when we started in low
drift, that we should pick up nothing, but by good luck, or good I don't
know what, we have got everything: first the motor, then pony walls at 10
miles, where we stopped and had a cup of tea. I wanted to do 15 miles,
but we have done 181/2 miles on the best running surface I have ever seen.
After lunch we got a cairn which we could not see twenty yards away after
we had reached it, but which we could see for a long way on the southern
horizon, against a thin strip of blue sky. We camped just in time to get
the tent pitched before a line of drift we saw coming out of the sky hit
us. It is now blowing a mild blizzard and drifting. Forty-eight miles in
two days is more than I expected: may our luck continue. Dogs pulling
very fit and not done up.

"_February 28._ I had my first upset just after starting, the sledge
capsizing on a great sastrugus like the Ramp. Dimitri was a long way
ahead and all behind was very thick. I had to unload the sledge for I
could not right it alone. Just as I righted it the team took charge. I
missed the driving-stick but got on to the sledge with no hope of
stopping them, and I was carried a mile to the south, leaving four boxes
of dog-food, the weekly bag, cooker, and tent poles on the ground. The
team stopped when they reached Dimitri's team, and by then the gear was
out of sight. We went back for it, and made good 163/4 miles for the day on
a splendid surface. The sun went down at 11.15 (10.15 A.T.), miraged
quite flat on top. After he had gone down a great bonfire seemed to blaze
out from the horizon. Now -22 deg. and we use a candle for the first time.

"_February 29. Bluff Depot._ If anybody had told me we could reach Bluff
Depot, nearly ninety miles, in four days, I would not have believed it.
We have had a good clear day with much mirage. Dogs a bit tired."[262]

The next three days' run took us to One Ton. On the day we left Bluff
Depot, which had been made a little more than a year ago, when certain of
the ponies were sent home on the Depot Journey,[263] but which no longer
contained any provisions, we travelled 12 miles; there was a good light
and it was as warm as could be expected in March. The next day (March 2)
we did 9 miles after a cold and sleepless night, -24 deg. and a mild blizzard
from N.W. and quite thick. On the night of March 3 we reached One Ton,
heading into a strongish wind with a temperature of -24 deg.. These were the
first two days on which we had cold weather, but it was nothing to worry
about for us, and was certainly not colder than one could ordinarily have
expected at this time of year.

Arrived at One Ton my first feeling was one of relief that the Polar
Party had not been to the Depot and that therefore we had got their
provisions out in time. The question of what we were to do in the
immediate future was settled for us; for four days out of the six during
which we were at One Ton the weather made travelling southwards, that is
against the wind, either entirely impossible or such that the chance of
seeing another party at any distance was nil. On the two remaining days I
could have run a day farther South and back again, with the possibility
of missing the party on the way. I decided to remain at the Depot where
we were certain to meet.

On the day after we arrived at One Ton (March 4) Dimitri came to me and
said that the dogs ought to be given more food, since they were getting
done and were losing their coats: they had, of course, done a great deal
of sledging already this year. Dimitri had long experience of dog-driving
and I had none. I thought and I still think he was right. I increased the
dog ration therefore, and this left us with thirteen more days' dog-food,
including that for March 4.

The weather was bad when we were at One Ton, for when it was blowing the
temperature often remained comparatively low, and when it was not blowing
it dropped considerably, and I find readings in my diary of -34 deg. and -37 deg.
at 8 P.M. Having no minimum thermometer we did not know the night
temperatures. On the other hand I find an entry: "To-day is the first
real good one we have had, only about -10 deg. and the sun shining,--and we
have shifted the tent, dried our bags and gear a lot, and been pottering
about all day." At this time, however, when we were at One Ton I looked
upon these conditions as being a temporary cold snap: there was no reason
then to suppose these were normal March conditions in the middle of the
Barrier, where no one had ever been at this time of year. I believe now
they are normal: on the other hand, in our meteorological report Simpson
argues that they were abnormal for the Barrier at this time of year.[264]

Since there was no depot of dog-food at One Ton it was not possible to go
farther South (except for the one day mentioned above) without killing
dogs. My orders on this point were perfectly explicit; I saw no reason
for disobeying them, and indeed it appeared that we had been wrong to
hurry out so soon, before the time that Scott had reckoned that he would
return, and that the Polar Party would really come in at the time Scott
had calculated before starting rather than at the time we had reckoned
from the data brought back by the Last Return Party.

From the particulars already given it will be seen that I had no reason
to suspect that the Polar Party could be in want of food. The Polar Party
of five men had according to our rations plenty of food either on their
sledge or in the depots. In addition they had a lot of pony meat depoted
at Middle Glacier Depot and onwards from there. Though we did not know
it, the death of Evans at the foot of the Beardmore Glacier provided an
additional amount of food for the four men who were then left. The full
amount of oil for this food had been left in the depots; but we know now
what we did not know then, that some of it had evaporated. These matters
are discussed in greater detail in the account of the return of the Polar
Party and after.[265]

Thus I felt little anxiety for the Polar Party. But I was getting anxious
about my companion. Soon after arrival at One Ton it was clear that
Dimitri was feeling the cold. He complained of his head; then his right
arm and side were affected; and from this time onwards he found that he
could do less and less with his right side. Still I did not worry much
about it, and my decision as to our movements was not affected by this
complication. I decided to allow eight days' food for our return, which
meant that we must start on March 10.

"_March 10._ Pretty cold night: -33 deg. when we turned out at 8 A.M.
Getting our gear together, and the dogs more or less into order after
their six days was cold work, and we started in minus thirties and a head
wind. The dogs were mad,--stark, staring lunatics. Dimitri's team wrecked
my sledge-meter, and I left it lying on the ground a mile from One Ton.
All we could do was to hang on to the sledge and let them go: there
wasn't a chance to go back, turn them or steer them. Dimitri broke his
driving-stick: my team fought as they went: once I was dragged with my
foot pinned under my driving-stick, which was itself jammed in the
grummet: several times I only managed to catch on anywhere: this went on
for six or seven miles, and then they got better."[266]

Our remaining sledge-meter was quite unreliable, but following our
outward tracks (for it became thick and overcast), and judging by our old
camping sites, we reckoned that we had done an excellent run of 23 to 24
miles (statute) for the day. The temperature when we camped was only
-14 deg.. However it became much colder in the night, and when we turned out
it was so thick that I decided we must wait. At 2 P.M. on March 11 there
was one small patch of blue sky showing, and we started to steer by this:
soon it was blowing a mild blizzard, and we stopped after doing what I
reckoned was eight miles, steering by trying to keep the wind on my ear:
but I think we were turning circles much of the time. It blew hard and
was very cold during the night, and we turned out on the morning of March
12 to a blizzard with a temperature of -33 deg.: this gradually took off, and
at 10 A.M. Dimitri said he could see the Bluff, and we were right into
the land, and therefore the pressure. This was startling, but later it
cleared enough to reassure me, though Dimitri was so certain that during
the first part of our run that day I steered east a lot. We did 25 to 30
miles this day in drift and a temperature of -28 deg..

By now I was becoming really alarmed and anxious about Dimitri, who
seemed to be getting much worse, and to be able to do less and less.
Sitting on a sledge the next day with a head wind and the temperature
-30 deg. was cold. The land was clear when we turned out and I could see that
we must be far outside our course, but almost immediately it became
foggy. We made in towards the land a good deal, and made a good run, but
owing to the sledge-meter being useless and the bad weather generally
during the last few days, I had a very hazy idea indeed where we were
when we camped, having been steering for some time by the faint gleam of
the sun through the mist. Just after camping Dimitri suddenly pointed to
a black spot which seemed to wave to and fro: we decided that it was the
flag of the derelict motor near Corner Camp which up to that time I
thought was ten to fifteen miles away: this was a great relief, and we
debated packing up again and going to it, but decided to stay where we
were.

It was fairly clear on the morning of March 14, which was lucky, for it
was now obvious that we were miles from Corner Camp and much too near the
land. The flag we had seen must have been a miraged piece of pressure,
and it was providential that we had not made for it, and found worse
trouble than we actually experienced. Try all I could that morning, my
team, which was leading, insisted on edging westwards. At last I saw what
I thought was a cairn, but found out just in time that it was a haycock
or mound of ice formed by pressure: by its side was a large open
crevasse, of which about fifty yards of snow-bridge had fallen in. For
several miles we knew that we were crossing big crevasses by the hollow
sound, and it was with considerable relief that I sighted the motor and
then Corner Camp some two or three miles to the east of us. "Dimitri had
left his Alpine rope there, and also I should have liked to have brought
in Evans' sledge, but it would have meant about five miles extra, and I
left it. I hope Scott, finding no note, will not think we are lost."[267]

Dimitri seemed to be getting worse, and we pushed on until we camped that
night only fifteen miles from Hut Point. My main anxiety was whether the
sea-ice between us and Hut Point was in, because I felt that the job of
getting the teams up on to the Peninsula and along it and down the other
side would be almost more than we could do: there was an ominous
open-water sky ahead.

On March 15 we were held up all day by a strong blizzard. But by 8 A.M.
the next morning we could see just the outline of White Island. I was
very anxious, for Dimitri said that he had nearly fainted, and I felt
that we must get on somehow, and chance the sea-ice being in. He stayed
inside the tent as long as possible, and my spirits rose as the land
began to clear all round while I was packing up both sledges. From Safety
Camp the mirage at the edge of the Barrier was alarming, but as we
approached the edge to my very great relief I found that the sea-ice was
still in, and that what we had taken for frost smoke was only drift over
Cape Armitage.

Pushing into the drift round the corner I found Atkinson on the sea-ice,
and Keohane in the hut behind. In a few minutes we had the gist of one
another's news. The ship had made attempt after attempt to reach Campbell
and his five men, but they had not been taken off from Evans Coves when
she finally left McMurdo Sound on March 4: she would make another effort
on her way to New Zealand. Evans was better and was being taken home.
Meanwhile there were four of us at Hut Point and we could not communicate
with our companions at Cape Evans until the Sound froze over, for the
open sea was washing the feet of Vince's Cross.

*       *       *       *       *

We were not unduly alarmed about the Polar Party at present, but began to
make arrangements for further sledging if necessary. It was useless to
think of taking the dogs again for they were thoroughly done. The mules
and the new dogs were at Cape Evans. "In four or five days Atkinson
wishes to start South again to see what we can do man-hauling, if the
Polar Party is not in. I agree with him that to try and go west to meet
Campbell is useless just now. If we can go north, they can come south,
and to put two parties there on the new sea-ice is to double the risk."

"_March 17._ A blizzard day but only about force 5-6. I think they will
have been able to travel all right on the Barrier. Atkinson thinks of
starting on the 22nd: my view is that allowing three weeks and four days
for the Summit, and ten days for being hung up by weather, we can give
them five weeks after the Last Return Party (i.e. to March 26) to get
in, having been quite safe and sound all the way. We feel anxious now,
but I do not think there is need for alarm till then, and they might get
in well after that, and be all right.

"Now our only real chance of finding them, if we go out, is from here to
ten miles south of Corner Camp. After that we shall do all we can, but it
would be no good, because there is no very definite route. Therefore I
would start out on March 27, when we would travel that part with most
chance of meeting them there if they have any trouble. I have put this to
Atkinson and will willingly do what he decides. I am feeling pretty done
up, and have rested. The prospect of what will be a hard journey, feeling
as I do, is rather bad. I don't think there is really cause for alarm."

"_March 18 and 19._ We are very anxious, though the Pole Party could not
be in yet. Also I am very done, and more so than I at first thought: I am
afraid it is a bit doubtful whether I can get out again yet, but to-day I
feel better and have been for a short walk. I am taking all the rest I
can."

"_March 20._ Last night a very strong blizzard blew, wind force 9 and big
snowfall and drift. This morning the doors and windows are all drifted
up, and we could hardly get out: a lot of snow had got inside the hut
also: I was feeling rotten, and thought that to go out and clear the
window and door would do me good. This I did, but came back in a big
squall, passing Atkinson as I came in. Then I felt myself going faint,
and remember pushing the door to get in if possible. I knew no more until
I came to on the floor just inside the door, having broken some tendons
in my right hand in falling."[268]

Two days afterwards the dogs sang at breakfast-time: they often did this
when a party was approaching, even when it was still far away, and they
had done so when Crean came in on his walk from Corner Camp. We were
cheered by the noise. But no party arrived, and the singing of the dogs
was explained later by some seal appearing on the new ice in Arrival Bay.
Atkinson decided to go out on to the Barrier man-hauling with Keohane on
the 26th. It was obvious that I could not go with them: he told me
afterwards that when I came in with the dog-teams he was sure I could not
go out again.

"_March 25._ The wind came away yesterday evening, first S.W. and then
S.E. but not bad, though very thick. It was a surprise to find we could
see the Western Mountains this morning, and I believe it has been a good
day on the Barrier, though it is still blowing with low drift this
evening. We are now on the days when I expect the Polar Party in: pray
God I may be right. Atkinson and I look at one another, and he looks, and
I feel, quite haggard with anxiety. He says he does not think they have
scurvy. We both, I think, feel quite comfortable, in comparison, about
Campbell: he only wants to exercise care, and his great care was almost a
byword on the ship. They are fresh and they have plenty of seal.[269] He
discussed with Pennell both the possibility of shipwreck and that of the
ship being unable to get to him, and for this reason landed an extra
month's rations as a depot; also he contemplated the idea of living on
seal. He knows of the Butter Point Depot, and knows that a party has been
sledging in that neighbourhood: though he does not know of the depots
they left at Cape Roberts and Cape Bernacchi, they are right out on the
Points and Taylor says he could not miss them on his way down the
coast."[270]

This day Atkinson thought he saw Campbell's party coming in, and the next
day Keohane and Dimitri came in great excitement and said they could see
them, and we were out on the Point and on the sea-ice in the drift for
quite a long time. "Last night we had turned in about two hours when five
or six knocks were hit on the little window over our heads. Atkinson
shouted 'Hullo!' and cried, 'Cherry, they're in.' Keohane said, 'Who's
cook?' Some one lit a candle and left it in the far corner of the hut to
give them light, and we all rushed out. But there was no one there. It
was the nearest approach to ghost work that I have ever heard, and it
must have been a dog which sleeps in that window. He must have shaken
himself, hitting the window with his tail. Atkinson thought he heard
footsteps!"[271]

On Wednesday, March 27, Atkinson started out on to the Barrier with one
companion, Keohane. During the whole of this trip the temperatures were
low, and both men obtained but little sleep, finding of course that a
tent occupied by two men only is a very cold place. The first two days
they made nine miles each day, on March 29 they pushed on in thick
weather for eleven miles, when the weather cleared enough to show them
that they had got into the White Island pressure. On March 30 they
reached a point south of Corner Camp, when "taking into consideration the
weather, and temperatures, and the time of the year, and the hopelessness
of finding the party except at any definite point like a depot, I decided
to return from here. We depoted the major portion of a week's provisions
to enable them to communicate with Hut Point in case they should reach
this point. At this date in my own mind I was morally certain that the
party had perished, and in fact on March 29 Captain Scott, 11 miles south
of One Ton Depot, made the last entry in his diary."[272]

"They arrived back on April 1. Yesterday evening at 6.30 P.M. Atkinson
and Keohane arrived. It was pretty thick here and blowing too, but they
had had a fair day on the Barrier. They had been out to Corner Camp and
eight miles farther. Their bags were bad, their clothes very bad after
six days: they must have had minus forties constantly. It is a moral
certainty that to go farther south would serve no purpose, and for two
men would be a useless risk. They did quite right to come back. They are
much in want of sleep, poor devils, and I do hope Atkinson will allow
himself to rest: he looks as though he might knock up. Keohane did well,
and is very fit. They came in over fifteen miles yesterday, and have
brought in the sledge of the Second Return Party, the one they took out
being very heavy pulling. They had no day on which they could not travel.
Here it has been blowing and drifting half the time he has been absent,"
and a few days later, "We have got to face it now. The Pole Party will
not in all probability ever get back. And there is no more that we can
do. The next step must be to get to Cape Evans as soon as it is possible.
There are fresh men there: at any rate fresh compared to us."[273]

*       *       *       *       *

Atkinson was the senior officer left, and unless Campbell and his party
came in, the command of the Main Party devolved upon him. It was not a
position which any one could envy even if he had been fresh and fit.
Amidst all his anxieties and responsibilities he looked after me with the
greatest patience and care. I was so weak that sometimes I could only
keep on my legs with difficulty: the glands of my throat were swollen so
that I could hardly speak or swallow: my heart was strained and I had
considerable pain. At such a time I was only a nuisance, but nothing
could have exceeded his kindness and his skill with the few drugs which
we possessed.

Again and again in these days some one would see one or other of the
missing parties coming in. It always proved to be mirage, a seal or
pressure or I do not know what, but never could we quite persuade
ourselves that these excitements might not have something in them, and
every time hope sprang up anew. Meanwhile the matter of serious
importance was the state of the ice in the bays between us and Cape
Evans: we _must_ get help. All the ice in the middle of the Sound was
swept out by the winds of March 30 to April 2, and on the following day
Atkinson climbed Arrival Heights to see how the remaining ice looked. The
view over the Sound from here is shown in the frontispiece to this book.
"The ice in the two bays to Cape Evans is quite new--formed this morning,
I suppose, with the rest that is in the Sound. There are open leads
between Glacier Tongue and Cape Evans, inside the line joining the ends
of the two. There is a big berg in between Glacier Tongue and the
Islands, and also a flat one off Cape Evans."[274]

We had some good freezing days after this, and on April 5 "we tried the
ice this afternoon. It is naturally slushy and salt, but some hundred
yards from the old ice it is six inches thick: probably it averages about
this thickness all over the Sound."[275] Then we had a hard blizzard, on
the fourth day of which it was possible to get up the Heights again and
see for some distance. As far as could be judged the ice in the two bays
had remained firm: these bays are those formed on either side of Glacier
Tongue, by the Hut Point Peninsula on the south, and by Cape Evans and
the islands on the north.

On April 10 Atkinson, Keohane and Dimitri started for Cape Evans, meaning
to travel along the Peninsula to the Hutton Cliffs, and thence to cross
the sea-ice in these bays, if it proved to be practicable. The amount of
daylight was now very restricted, and the sun would disappear for the
winter a week hence. Arrived at the Hutton Cliffs, where it was blowing
as usual, they lost no time in lowering themselves and their sledge on to
the sea-ice, and were then pleasantly surprised to find how slippery it
was. "We set sail before a strong following breeze and, all sitting on
the sledge, had reached the Glacier Tongue in twenty minutes. We
clambered over the Tongue, and, our luck and the breeze still holding, we
reached Cape Evans, completing the last seven miles, all sitting on the
sledge, in an hour."

[Illustration: CAPE EVANS FROM ARRIVAL HEIGHTS]

[Illustration: CAPE ROYDS FROM CAPE BARNE]

"There I called together all the members and explained the situation,
telling them what had been done, and what I then proposed to do; also
asking them for their advice in this trying time. The opinion was almost
unanimous that all that was possible had been already done. Owing to
the lateness of the year, and the likelihood of our being unable to make
our way up the coast to Campbell, one or two members suggested that
another journey might be made to Corner Camp. Knowing the conditions
which had lately prevailed on the Barrier, I took it upon myself to
decide the uselessness of this."[276]

All was well at Cape Evans. Winds and temperatures had both been high,
the latter being in marked contrast to the low temperatures we had
experienced at Hut Point, which averaged as much as 15 deg. lower than those
that were recorded in the previous year. The seven mules were well, but
three of the new dogs had died: we were always being troubled by that
mysterious disease.

Before she left for New Zealand the following members of our company
joined the ship: Simpson, who had to return to his work in India;
Griffith Taylor, who had been lent to us by the Australian Government for
only one year; Ponting, whose photographic work was done; Day, whose work
with the motors was done; Meares, who was recalled by family affairs;
Forde, whose hand had never recovered the effects of frost-bite during
the spring; Clissold, who fell off a berg and concussed himself; and
Anton, whose work with the ponies was done. Lieutenant Evans was
invalided home.

Archer had been landed to take Clissold's place as cook; another seaman,
Williamson, was landed to take Forde's place, and of our sledging
companions he was the only fresh man. Wright was probably the most fit
after him, and otherwise we had no one who, under ordinary circumstances,
would have been considered fit to go out sledging again this season,
especially at a time when the sun was just leaving us for the winter. We
were sledged out.

The next few days were occupied in making preparations for a further
sledge journey, and on April 13 a party started to return to Hut Point by
the Hutton Cliffs. Atkinson, Wright, Keohane and Williamson were to try
and sledge up the western coast to help Campbell: Gran and Dimitri were
to stay with me at Hut Point. The surface of the sea-ice was now
extremely slushy and bad for pulling; the ice had begun to extrude its
salt. A blizzard started in their faces, and they ran for shelter to the
lee of Little Razorback Island. The weather clearing they pushed on to
the Glacier Tongue, and camped there for the night somewhat frost-bitten.
Some difficulty was experienced the next morning in climbing the
ice-cliff on to the Peninsula, but Atkinson, using his knife as a
purchase, and the sledge held at arm's-length by four men as a ladder,
succeeded eventually in getting a foothold.

Meanwhile I was left alone at Hut Point, where blizzards raged
periodically with the usual creakings and groanings of the old hut.
Foolishly I accompanied my companions, when they started for Cape Evans,
as far as the bottom of Ski Slope. When I left them I found I could not
keep my feet on the slippery snow and ice patches, and I had several
nasty falls, in one of which I gave my shoulder a twist. It was this
shaking combined with the rather desperate conditions which caused a more
acute state of illness and sickness than I had experienced for some time.
Some of those days I remained alone at Hut Point I was too weak to do
more than crawl on my hands and knees about the hut. I had to get blubber
from the door to feed the fire, and chop up seal-meat to eat, to cook,
and to tend the dogs, some of whom were loose, while most of them were
tied in the verandah, or between the hut door and Vince's Cross. The hut
was bitterly cold with only one man in it: had there not been some
morphia among the stores brought down from Cape Evans I do not know what
I should have done.

The dogs realized that they could take liberties which they would not
have dared to do in different circumstances. They whined and growled, and
squabbled amongst themselves all the time, day and night. Seven or eight
times one day I crawled across the floor to try and lay my hands upon one
dog who was the ringleader. I was sure it was Dyk, but never detected him
in the act, and though I thrashed him with difficulty as a speculation,
the result was not encouraging. I would willingly have killed the lot of
them just then, I am ashamed to say. I lay in my sleeping-bag with the
floor of the hut falling from me, or its walls disappearing in the
distance and coming back: and roused myself at intervals to feed blubber
to the stove. I felt as though I had been delivered out of hell when the
relief party arrived on the night of April 14. I had been alone four
days, and I think a few more days would have sent me off my head. Not the
least welcome of the things they had brought me were my letters, copies
of the Weekly Times, a pair of felt shoes and a comb!

Atkinson's plan was to start on April 7 over the old sea-ice which lay to
the south and south-west of us: he was to take with him Wright, Keohane
and Williamson, and they wanted to reach Butter Point, and thence to
sledge up the western coast. If the sea-ice was in, and Campbell was
sledging down upon it, they hoped to meet him and might be of the
greatest assistance to him. Even if they did not meet him they could mark
more obviously certain depots, of which he had no knowledge, left by our
own geological parties on the route he must follow. As I have already
mentioned, these were on Cape Roberts, off Granite Harbour, and on Cape
Bernacchi, north of New Harbour: there was also a depot at Butter Point,
but Campbell already knew of this. They could also leave instructions to
this effect at points where he would be likely to see them. There was no
question that there was grave risk in this journey. Not only was the
winter approaching, and the daylight limited, but the sea-ice over which
they must march was most dangerous. Sea-ice is always forming and being
blown out to sea, or just floating away on the tide at this time of year.
The amount of old ice which had remained during the summer was certain to
be limited: the new ice was thin and might take them out with it at any
time. However, what could be done had to be done.

Before they left certain signals by means of rockets and Very lights were
arranged, to be sent up by us at Hut Point if Campbell arrived: signals
had also been arranged between Hut Point and Cape Evans in view of
certain events. We did not have, but I think we ought to have had some
form of portable heliograph for communications between Hut Point and Cape
Evans when the sun was up and some kind of lamp signal apparatus to use
during the winter.

They started at 10.30 A.M. on Wednesday, April 17. The sun was now only
just peeping over the northern horizon at mid-day, and would disappear
entirely in six more days, though of course there was a long twilight as
yet. For fresh men on old sea-ice it would not have been an easy venture:
for worn-out men on a coast where the ice was probably freezing and
blowing out at odd times it was very brave.

They had hard pulling their first two days, and the minimum temperature
for the corresponding nights was -43 deg. and -45 deg.. Consequently they soon
began to be iced up. On the other hand they found old sea-ice and made
good some 25 miles, camping on the evening of the 18th about four miles
from the Eskers. Next morning they had to venture upon newly frozen ice,
and a blizzard wind was blowing. They crossed the four miles from their
night camp to the Eskers, glad enough to reach land the other side
without the ice going to sea with them. They then turned towards the
Butter Point Depot, but were compelled to camp owing to the blizzard
which came on with full force. The rise in temperature to zero caused a
general thaw of sleeping-bags and clothing which dried but little when
the sun had no power. On the following morning they reached the Butter
Point Depot, which they found with difficulty, for there was no flag
standing. Even as they struck their camp they saw the ice to the north of
them breaking up and going out to sea. There was nothing to do but to
turn back, for neither could they go north to Campbell nor could Campbell
come south to them. Wright now told Atkinson how much he had been opposed
to this journey all along: "he had come on this trip fully believing that
there was every possibility of the party being lost, but had never
demurred and never offered a contrary opinion, and one cannot be thankful
enough to such men."[277] They made up the Butter Point Depot, marked it
as well as they could in case Campbell should arrive there, and left two
weeks' provisions for him. They could do no more.

They got back to the Eskers that same day and anxiously awaited the
twilight of the morning to reveal the state of the new sea-ice which they
had crossed on their outward journey. To their joy some of it remained
and they started to do the four miles between them and the old sea-ice.
For two miles they ran with the sail set: then they had a hard pull, and
some Emperor penguins whom they could see led them to suppose that there
was open water ahead. But they got through all right, and did ten miles
for the day. On Monday 22, "blizzard in morning, so started late, and
made for end of Pinnacled Ice. We found our little bay of sea-ice all
gone out. Luckily there was a sort of ice-foot around the Pinnacled Ice
and we completed seven miles and got through."[278]

_Tuesday, April 23._ "Atkinson and his party got in about 7 P.M. after a
long pull all day in very bad weather. They are just in the state of a
party which has been out on a very cold spring journey: clothes and
sleeping-bags very wet, sweaters, pyjama coats and so forth full of snow.
Atkinson looks quite done up, his cheeks are fallen in and his throat
shows thin. Wright is also a good deal done up, and the whole party has
evidently had little sleep. They have had a difficult and dangerous trip,
and it is a good thing they are in, and they are fortunate to have had no
mishaps, for the sea-ice is constantly going out over there, and when
they were on it they never knew that they might not find themselves cut
off from the shore. Big leads were constantly opening, even in ice over a
foot thick and with little wind. But even if the ice had been in I do not
believe that they could have gone many days."[279]

That same day the sun appeared for the last time for four months.

April 28 seemed to be a quite good day when we woke, and Wright, Keohane
and Gran started back for Cape Evans before 10 A.M. We could then see the
outline of Inaccessible Island, and the ice in the Sound looked fairly
firm. So they determined to go by the way of the sea-ice under Castle
Rock instead of going along the Peninsula to the Hutton Cliffs. Soon
after they started it came up thick, and by 11.30 it was blowing a mild
blizzard with a low temperature. We felt considerable anxiety, especially
when a full blizzard set in with a temperature down to -31 deg., and we could
not see how the ice was standing it. Two days later it cleared, and that
night a flare was lit at Cape Evans at a pre-arranged time, by which
signal we knew that they had arrived safely. We heard afterwards that
when it came up thick they decided to follow the land which was the only
thing that they could see. They soon found that the ice was not nearly so
good as was supposed: there were open pools of water, and some of the ice
was moving up and down with their weight as they crossed it: Gran put his
foot in. Then Wright went ahead with the Alpine rope, the ice being blue,
the pulling easy, and the wind force 4-5. As far as Turtleback Island the
ice was newly frozen, but after that they knew they were on oldish ice.
They were lost on Cape Evans in the blizzard for some time, but
eventually found the hut safely. One of the lessons of this expedition is
that too little care was taken in travelling on sea-ice.

Atkinson, Dimitri and I left for Cape Evans with the two dog-teams on May
1. Directly we started it was evident that the surface was very bad: even
the ice near Hut Point, which had been frozen for a long time, was hard
pulling for the dogs, and when after less than a mile we got on to ice
which had frozen quite lately the sledges were running on snow which in
turn lay on salt sleet. It seemed a long time before we got abreast of
Castle Rock, following close along the land for the weather was very
thick: when we started we could just see the outline of Inaccessible
Island, but by now the horizon was lost in the dusk and haze. We decided
to push on to Turtleback Island and go over Glacier Tongue in order to
get on to the older ice as soon as possible. The dogs began to get very
done: Manuki Noogis, who had been harnessed in as leader (for Rabchick
had deserted in the night), gave in completely, lay down and refused to
be persuaded to go on: we had to cast him off and hope that he would
follow. After a time Turtleback Island was visible in the gloom, but it
was all we could do, pushing and pulling the sledges to help the dogs, to
get them so far. We were now on the older ice: our way was easier and we
reached Cape Evans without further incident. We found Rabchick on
arrival, but no Manuki Noogis, who never reappeared.

As we neared the Cape Atkinson turned to me: "Would you go for Campbell
or the Polar Party next year?" he said. "Campbell," I answered: just then
it seemed to me unthinkable that we should leave live men to search for
those who were dead.

FOOTNOTES:

[259] See Introduction, pp. l, lii-lix.

[260] See pp. 353, 383.

[261] See pp. 382, 383.

[262] My own diary.

[263] See p. 115.

[264] _British Antarctic Expedition, 1910-1913_, "Meteorology," by
G. C. Simpson, vol. i. pp. 28-30.

[265] See pp. 550-556.

[266] My own diary.

[267] My own diary.

[268] My own diary.

[269] As a matter of fact this was not the case.

[270] My own diary.

[271] My own diary.

[272] Atkinson in _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. ii. p. 309.

[273] My own diary.

[274] My own diary.

[275] Ibid.

[276] Atkinson in _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. ii. p. 31.

[277] Atkinson in _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. ii. p. 314.

[278] Atkinson's diary.

[279] My own diary.




CHAPTER XIV

THE LAST WINTER

Ordinary people snuggle up to God as a lost leveret in a freezing
wilderness might snuggle up to a Siberian tiger....--H. G. WELLS.


(I) _5 men dead._                   (III) _2 men landed._

SCOTT          OATES                  ARCHER           WILLIAMSON
WILSON         SEAMAN EVANS
BOWERS
(IV) _13 men at Cape Evans for third year._

(II) _9 men gone home._               ATKINSON         CREAN
CHERRY-GARRARD   KEOHANE
LIEUT. EVANS   DAY                    WRIGHT           DIMITRI
SIMPSON        FORDE                  DEBENHAM         HOOPER
MEARES         CLISSOLD               GRAN             WILLIAMSON
TAYLOR         ANTON                  NELSON           ARCHER
PONTING                               LASHLY

A quite disproportionately small part of Scott's Last Expedition was
given to Atkinson's account of the last and worst year any of us
survivors spent: some one should have compelled him to write, for he will
not do so if he can help it. The problems which presented themselves were
unique in the history of Arctic travel, the weather conditions which had
to be faced during this last winter were such as had never been met in
McMurdo Sound! The sledging personnel had lately undergone journeys, in
one case no less than four journeys, of major importance, until they were
absolutely worn out. The successful issue of the party was a triumph of
good management and good fellowship. The saving clause was that as
regards hut, food, heat, clothing and the domestic life generally we were
splendidly found. To the north of us, some hundreds of miles away,
Campbell's party of six men must be fighting for their lives against
these same conditions, or worse--unless indeed they had already perished
on their way south. We knew they must be in desperate plight, but
probably they were alive: the point in their favour was that they were
fresh men. To the south of us, anywhere between us and the Pole, were
five men. We knew _they_ must be dead.

The immediate problem which presented itself was how best to use the
resources which were left to us. Our numbers were much reduced. Nine men
had gone home before any hint of tragedy reached them. Two men had been
landed from the ship. We were thirteen men for this last year. Of these