thirteen it was almost certain that Debenham would be unable to go out
sledging again owing to an injury to his knee: Archer had come to cook
and not to sledge: and it was also doubtful about myself. As a matter of
fact our sledging numbers for the last summer totalled eleven, five
officers and six men.

We were well provided with transport, having the seven mules sent down by
the Indian Government, which were excellent animals, as well as our
original two dog-teams: the additional dogs brought down by the ship were
with two exceptions of no real sledging value. Our dog-teams had,
however, already travelled some 1500 miles on the Barrier alone, not
counting the work they had done between Hut Point and Cape Evans; and,
though we did not realize it at this time, they were sick of it and never
worked again with that dash which we had come to expect of them.

The first thing which we settled about the winter which lay ahead of us
was that, so far as possible, everything should go on as usual. The
scientific work must of course be continued, and there were the dogs and
mules to be looked after: a night-watch to be kept and the meteorological
observations and auroral notes to be taken. Owing to our reduced numbers
we should need the help of the seamen for this purpose. We were also to
bring out another volume of the South Polar Times on Mid-winter Day. The
importance of not allowing any sense of depression to become a part of
the atmosphere of our life was clear to all. This was all the more
necessary when, as we shall see, the constant blizzards confined us week
after week to our hut. Even when we did get a fine day we were almost
entirely confined to the rocky cape for our exercise and walks. When
there was sea-ice it was most unsafe.

Atkinson was in command: in addition, he and Dimitri took over the care
of the dogs. Many of these, both those which had been out sledging and
those just arrived, were in a very poor state, and a dog hospital was
soon built. At this date we had 24 dogs left from the last year, and 11
dogs brought down recently by the ship: three of the new dogs had already
died. Lashly was in charge of the seven mules, which were allotted to
seven men for exercise: Nelson was to continue his marine biological
work: Wright was to be meteorologist as well as chemist and physicist:
Gran was in charge of stores, and would help Wright in the meteorological
observations: Debenham was geologist and photographer. I was ordered to
take a long rest, but could do the zoological work, the South Polar
Times, and keep the Official Account of the Expedition from day to day.
Crean was in charge of sledging stores and equipment. Archer was cook.
Hooper, our domestic, took over in addition the working of the acetylene
plant. There was plenty of work for our other two seamen, Keohane and
Williamson, in the daily life of the camp and in preparations for the
sledging season to come.

The blizzard which threatened us all the way from Hut Point on May 1
broke soon after we got in. The ice in North Bay, which had been frozen
for some time, was taken out on the first day of this blizzard, with the
exception of a small strip running close along the shore. The rest
followed the next afternoon, when the wind was still rising, and blew in
the gusts up to 89 miles an hour. The curious thing was that all this
time the air had been quite clear.

This was the second day of the blizzard. The wind continued in violence
as the night wore on, and it began to snow, becoming very thick. From 3
A.M. to 4 A.M. the wind was so strong that there was a continuous rattle
of sand and stones up against the wall of the hut. The greater part of
the time the anemometer head was choked by the drifting snow, and
Debenham, whose night-watch it was, had a bad time in clearing it at 4
A.M. During the period when it was working it registered a gust of over
91 miles an hour. While it was not working there came a gust which woke
most people up, and which was a far more powerful one, making a regular
hail of stones against the wall. The next morning the wind was found to
be averaging 104 miles an hour when the anemometer on the hill was
checked for three minutes. Later it was averaging 78 miles an hour. This
blizzard continued to rage all this day and the next, but on May 6, which
was one of those clear beautiful days when it is hard to believe that it
can ever blow again, we could see something of the damage to the sea-ice.
The centre of the Sound was clear of ice, and the open water stretched to
the S. W. of us as far back as Tent Island. We were to have many worse
blizzards during this winter, but this particular blow was important
because it came at a critical time in the freezing over of the sea, and,
once it had been dispersed, the winds of the future never allowed the ice
to form again sufficiently thick to withstand the wind forces which
obtained.

Thus I find in my diary of May 8: "Up to the present we have never
considered the possibility of the sea in this neighbourhood, and the
Sound out to the west of us, not freezing over permanently in the winter.
But here there is still open water, and it seems quite possible that
there may not be any permanent freezing this year, at any rate to the
north of Inaccessible Island and this cape. Though North Bay is now
frozen over, the ice in it was blown away during the night, and, having
been blown back again, is now only joined to the ice-foot by newly frozen
ice."

During this winter the ice formed in North Bay was constantly moving away
from the ice-foot, quite independently of wind. I watched it carefully as
far as it was possible to do so in the dark. Sometimes at any rate the
southern side of the sea-ice moved out not only northwards from the land,
but also slightly westwards from the glacier face. To the north-east the
ice was sometimes pressed closely up against the glacier. It seemed that
the whole sheet was subject to a screw movement, the origin of which was
somewhere out by Inaccessible Island. The result was that we often had a
series of leads of newly frozen ice stretching out for some forty yards
to an older piece of ice, each lead being of a different age. It was an
interesting study in the formation of sea-ice, covered at times by very
beautiful ice-flowers. But it was dangerous for the dogs, who sometimes
did not realize that these leads were not strong enough to bear them.
Vaida went in one day, but managed to scramble out on the far side. He
was induced to return to the land with difficulty, just before the whole
sheet of ice upon which he stood floated out to sea. Noogis, Dimitri's
good leader, wandered away several times during the winter: once at any
rate he seems to have been carried off on a piece of ice, and to have
managed to swim to land, for when he arrived in camp his coat was full of
icy slush: finally he disappeared altogether, all search for him was in
vain, and we never found out what had happened.

[Illustration: CAPE EVANS IN WINTER--E. A. Wilson, del.]

Vaida was a short-tempered strong animal, who must have about doubled his
weight since we came in from One Ton, and he became quite a house-dog
this winter, waiting at the door to be patted by men as they went out,
and coming in sometimes during the night-watch. But he did not like to be
turned out in the morning, and for my part I did not like the job, for he
could prove very nasty. We allowed a good many of the dogs to be loose
this year, and sometimes, when standing quietly upon a rock on the cape,
three or four of the dogs passed like shadows in the darkness, busily
hunting the ice-foot for seals: this was the trouble of giving them their
freedom, and I regret to say we found many carcasses of seal and Emperor
penguins. There was one new dog, Lion, who accompanied me sometimes to
the top of the Ramp to see how the ice lay out in the Sound. He seemed as
interested in it as I was, and while I was using night-glasses would sit
and gaze out over the sea which according to its age lay white or black
at our feet. Of course we had a dog called Peary, and another one
called Cooke. Peary was killed on the Barrier because he would not pull.
Cooke, however, was still with us, and seemed to have been ostracized by
his fellows, a position which in some lop-sided way he enjoyed. Loose
dogs chased him at sight, and when Cooke appeared, and others were about,
a regular steeplechase started. He also came up the Ramp with me one day:
half-way up he suddenly turned and fled for the hut as hard as he could
go: three other dogs came round the rocks in full chase, and they all
gave the impression of thoroughly enjoying themselves.

The question of what ought to be done for the best during the coming
sledging season must have been in the minds of all of us. Which of the
two missing parties were we to try and find? A winter journey to relieve
Campbell and his five men was out of the question. I doubt the
possibility of such a journey to Evans Coves with fit men: to us at any
rate it was unthinkable. Also if we could do the double journey up and
down, Campbell could certainly do the single journey down. Add to this
that there was every sign of open water under the Western Mountains,
though this did not influence us much when the decision was made. The
problem as it presented itself to us was much as follows:

Campbell's Party _might_ have been picked up by the Terra Nova. Pennell
meant to have another try to reach him on his way north, and it was
probable that the ship would not be able to communicate again with Cape
Evans owing to ice: on the other hand it was likely that the ship had
_not_ been able to relieve him. It also seemed that he could not have
travelled down the coast at this time, owing to the state of the sea-ice.
The danger to him and his men was primarily during the winter: every day
after the winter his danger was lessened. If we started in the end of
October to relieve Campbell, estimating the probable date of arrival of
the ship, we judged that we could reach him only five or six weeks before
the ship relieved him. All the same Campbell and his men might be alive,
and, having lived through the winter, the arrival of help might make the
difference between life and death.

On the other hand we knew that the Polar Party must be dead. They might
be anywhere between Hut Point and the Pole, drifted over by snow, or
lying at the bottom of a crevasse, which seemed the most likely thing to
have happened. From the Upper Glacier Depot in 85 deg. 5' S. to the Pole,
that is the whole distance of the Plateau Journey, we did not know the
courses they had steered nor the position of their depots, for Lieutenant
Evans, who brought back the Last Return Party, was invalided home and
neither of the seamen who remained of this party knew the courses.

After the experience of both the supporting parties on their way down the
Beardmore Glacier, when we all got into frightfully crevassed areas, it
was the general opinion that the Polar Party must have fallen down a
crevasse; the weight of five men, as compared with the four men and three
men of the other return parties, supported this theory. Lashly was
inclined to think they had had scurvy. The true solution never once
occurred to us, for they had full rations for a very much longer period
of time than, according to their averages to 87 deg. 32', they were likely to
be out.

The first object of the expedition had been the Pole. If some record was
not found, their success or failure would for ever remain uncertain. Was
it due not only to the men and their relatives, but also to the
expedition, to ascertain their fate if possible?

The chance of finding the remains of the Southern Party did not seem very
great. At the same time Scott was strict about leaving notes at depots,
and it seemed likely that he would have left some record at the Upper
Glacier Depot before starting to descend the Beardmore Glacier: it would
be interesting to know whether he did so. If we went south we must be
prepared to reach this depot: farther than that, I have explained, we
could not track him. On the other hand, if we went south prepared to go
to the Upper Glacier Depot, the number of sledging men necessary, in view
of the fact that we had no depots, would not allow of our sending a
second party to relieve Campbell.

It was with all this in our minds that we sat down one evening in the hut
to decide what was to be done. The problem was a hard one. On the one
hand we might go south, fail entirely to find any trace of the Polar
Party, and while we were fruitlessly travelling all the summer Campbell's
men might die for want of help. On the other hand we might go north, to
find that Campbell's men were safe, and as a consequence the fate of the
Polar Party and the result of their efforts might remain for ever
unknown. Were we to forsake men who might be alive to look for those whom
we knew were dead?

These were the points put by Atkinson to the meeting of the whole party.
He expressed his own conviction that we should go south, and then each
member was asked what he thought. No one was for going north: one member
only did not vote for going south, and he preferred not to give an
opinion. Considering the complexity of the question, I was surprised by
this unanimity. We prepared for another Southern Journey.

It is impossible to express and almost impossible to imagine how
difficult it was to make this decision. Then we knew nothing: now we know
all. And nothing is harder than to realize in the light of facts the
doubts which others have experienced in the fog of uncertainty.

Our winter routine worked very smoothly. Inside the hut we had a good
deal more room than we needed, but this allowed of certain work being
done in its shelter which would otherwise have had to be done outside.
For instance we cut a hole through the floor of the dark-room, and
sledged in some heavy boulders of kenyte lava: these were frozen solidly
into the rock upon which the hut was built by the simple method of
pouring hot water over them, and the pedestal so formed was used by
Wright for his pendulum observations. I was able to skin a number of
birds in the hut; which, incidentally, was a very much colder place in
consequence of the reduction in our numbers.

The wind was most turbulent during this winter. The mean velocity of the
wind, in miles per hour, for the month of May was 24.6 m.p.h.; for June
30.9 m.p.h.; and for July 29.5 m.p.h. The percentage of hours when the
wind was blowing over fresh gale strength (42 m.p.h. on the Beaufort
scale) for the month of May was 24.5, for June 35, and for July 33 per
cent of the whole.

These figures speak for themselves: after May we lived surrounded by an
atmosphere of raging winds and blinding drift, and the sea at our door
was never allowed to freeze permanently.

After the blizzard in the beginning of May which I have already
described, the ice round the point of Cape Evans and that in North Bay
formed to a considerable thickness. We put a thermometer screen out upon
it, and Atkinson started a fish-trap through a hole in it. There was a
good deal of competition over this trap: the seamen started a rival one,
which was to have been a very large affair, though it narrowed down to a
less ambitious business before it was finished. There was a sound of
cheering one morning, and Crean came in triumph from his fish-trap with a
catch of 25. Atkinson's last catch had numbered one, but the seals had
found his fishing-holes: a new hole caught fish until a seal found it.
One of these fish, a Tremasome, had a parasitic growth over the dorsal
sheath. External parasites are not common in the Antarctic, and this was
an interesting find.

On June 1 Dimitri and Hooper went with a team of nine dogs to and from
Hut Point, to see if they could find Noogis, the dog which had left us on
our return on May 1. There was plenty of food for him to pick up there.
No trace of him could be found. The party reported a bad running surface,
no pressure in the ice, as was the case the former year, but a large open
working crack running from Great Razorback to Tent Island. There were big
snowdrifts at Hut Point, as indeed was already the case at Cape Evans.
During the first days of June we got down into the minus thirties, and
our spirits rose as the thermometer dropped: we wanted permanent
sea-ice.

"_Saturday, June 8._ The weather changes since the night before last have
been, luckily for us, uncommon. Thursday evening a strong northerly wind
started with some drift, and this increased during the night until it
blew over forty miles an hour, the temperature being -22 deg.. A strong wind
from the north is rare, and generally is the prelude of a blizzard. This
northerly wind fell towards morning, and the day was calm and clear, the
temperature falling until it was -33 deg. at 4 P.M. The barometer had been
abnormally low during the day, being only 28.24 at noon. Then at 8 P.M.
with the temperature at -36 deg., this blizzard broke, and at the same time
there was a big upward jump of the barometer, which seemed to mark the
beginning of the blizzard much more than the thermometer, which did not
rise much. The wind during the night was very high, blowing 72 and 66
miles an hour, for hours at a time, and has not yet shown any sign of
diminishing. Now, after lunch, the hut is straining and creaking, while a
shower of stones rattles at intervals against it: the drift is generally
very heavy."

"_Sunday, June 9._ The temperature has been higher, about zero, during
the day, and the blizzard shows no signs of falling yet. The gusts are
still of a very high velocity. A large quantity of ice to the north seems
to have gone out: at any rate our narrow strip along the front, which is
so valuable to us, will probably be permanent now."

"_Monday, June 10._ A most turbulent day. It is very hard to settle down
to do anything, read or write, with such a turmoil outside, the hut
shaking until we begin to wonder how long it will stand such winds. Most
of the time the wind is averaging about sixty miles an hour, but the
gusts are far greater, and at times it seems that something must go. Just
before lunch I was racking my brains to write an Editorial for the South
Polar Times, and had congratulated ourselves on having the sea-ice which
is still in North Bay. As we were having lunch Nelson came in and said,
'The thermometers have gone!' All the ice in North Bay has gone. The part
immediately next to the shore, which has now been in so long, and which
was over two feet thick, we had considered sure to stay. On it has gone
out the North Bay thermometer screen with its instruments, which was
placed 400 yards out, the fish-trap, some shovels and a sledge with a
crowbar. The gusts were exceptionally strong at lunch, and the ice must
have gone out very quickly. There was no sign of it afterwards, though it
was not drifting much and we could see some distance. To lose this ice in
North Bay is a great disappointment, for it means so much to us here
whether we have ice or water at our doors. We are now pretty well
confined to the cape both for our own exercise and that of the mules, and
in the dark it is very rough walking. But if the ice in South Bay were to
follow, it would be a calamity, cutting us off entirely from the south
and all sledging next year. Let us hope we shall be spared this."

This blizzard lasted for eight days, up till then the longest blizzard we
had experienced: "It died as it had lived, blowing hard to the last,
averaging 68 miles an hour from the south, and then 56 miles an hour from
the north, finally back to the south, and so to calm. To sit here with no
noise of wind whistling in the ventilator, calm and starlight outside,
and North Bay freezing over once more, is a very great relief."[280]

It is noteworthy that this clearance of the ice, as also that in the
beginning of May, coincided roughly with the maximum declination of the
moon, and therefore with a run of spring tides.

It would be tedious to give any detailed account of the winds and drift
which followed, night and day. There were few days which did not produce
their blizzard, but in contrast the hours of bright starlight were very
beautiful. "Walking home over the cape in the darkness this afternoon I
saw an eruption of Erebus which, compared with anything we have seen here
before, was very big. It looked as though a great mass of flame shot up
some thousands of feet into the air, and, as suddenly as it rose, fell
again, rising again to about half the height, and then disappearing.
There was then a great column of steam rising from the crater, and
probably, so Debenham asserts, it was not a flame which appeared, but the
reflection from a big bubble breaking in the crater. Afterwards the smoke
cloud stretched away southwards, and we could not see the end of
it."[281]

Blizzard followed blizzard, and at the beginning of July we had four days
which were the thickest I have ever seen. Generally when you go out into
a blizzard the drift is blown from your face and clothes, and though you
cannot see your stretched-out hand, especially on a dark winter day, the
wind prevents you being smothered. The wind also prevents the land,
tents, hut and cases from being covered. But during this blizzard the
drift drove at you in such blankets of snow, that your person was
immediately blotted out, your face covered and your eyes plugged up. Gran
lost himself for some time on the hill when taking the 8 A.M.
observations, and Wright had difficulty in getting back from the magnetic
cave. Men had narrow escapes of losing themselves, though they were but a
few feet from the hut.

When this blizzard cleared the camp was buried, and even on unobstructed
surfaces the snowdrifts averaged four feet of additional depth. Two
enormous drifts ran down to the sea from either end of the hut. I do not
think we ever found some of our stores again, but the larger part we
carried up to the higher ground behind us where they remained fairly
clear. About this time I began to notice large sheets of anchor ice off
the end of Cape Evans, that is to say, ice forming and remaining on the
bottom of the open sea. Now also the open water was extending round the
cape into the South Bay behind us: but it was too dark to get any
reliable idea of the distribution of ice in the Sound. We were afraid
that we were cut off from Hut Point, but I do not believe that this was
the case; though the open water must have stretched many miles to the
south in the middle of the Sound. The days when it was clear enough even
to potter about outside the hut were exceptional. God was very angry.

"_Sunday, July 14._ A blizzard during the night, and after breakfast it
was drifting a lot. While we were having service some of the men went
over the camp to get ice for water. The sea-ice had been blown out of
North Bay, and the men supposed that the sea was open, and would look
black, but Crean tells me that they nearly walked over the ice-foot, and,
when it cleared later, we saw the sea as white as the ice-foot itself. A
strip of ice which was lying out in the Bay last night must have been
brought in by the tide, even against a wind of some forty miles an hour.
This shows what an influence the tides and currents have in comparison
with the winds, for just at this time we are having very big tides. It
was blowing and drifting all the morning, and the tide was flowing in,
pressing the ice in under the ice-foot to such an extent that later it
remained there, though the tide was ebbing and a strong southerly was
blowing."[282] Incidentally the bergs which were grounded in our
neighbourhood were shifted and broken about considerably by these high
winds: also the meteorological screen placed on the Ramp the year before
was broken from its upright, which had snapped in the middle, and must
have been taken up into the air and so out to sea, for there was no trace
of it to be found: Wright lost two doors placed over the entrance to the
magnetic cave: when he lifted them they were taken out of his hands by
the wind, and disappeared into the air and were never seen again.

[Illustration: NORTH BAY AND THE BARNE GLACIER]

So ready was the sea to freeze that there can be little doubt that it
already contained large numbers of ice crystals, and time and again I
have stood upon the ice-foot watching the tongues of the winds licking up
the waters as they roared their way out to sea. Then, with no warning,
there would come, suddenly and completely, a lull. And there would be a
film of ice, covering the surface of the sea, come so quickly that all
you could say was that it was not there before and it was there now. And
then down would come the wind again and it was gone. Once when the winter
had gone and daylight had returned I stood upon the end of the cape, the
air all calm around me, and there, half-a-mile away, a full blizzard was
blowing: the islands, and even the berg between Inaccessible Island
and the cape, were totally obscured in the thickest drift: the top of the
drift, which was very distinct, thinned to show dimly the crest of
Inaccessible Island: Turk's Head was visible and Erebus quite clear. In
fact I was just on the edge of a thick blizzard, blowing down the Strait,
the side showing as a perpendicular wall about 500 feet high and
travelling, I should say, about 40 miles an hour. A roar came out from it
of the wind and waves.

The weather conditions were extraordinarily local, as another experience
will show. Atkinson and Dimitri were off to Hut Point with the dogs,
carrying biscuit and pemmican for the coming Search Journey: I went with
them some way, and then left them to place a flag upon the end of Glacier
Tongue for surveying purposes. It was clear and bright, and it was easy
to get a sketch of the bearings of the islands from this position, which
showed how great a portion of the Tongue must have broken off in the
autumn of 1911. I anticipated a pleasant walk home, but was somewhat
alarmed when heavy wind and drift came down from the direction of the
Hutton Cliffs. Wearing spectacles, and being unable to see without them,
I managed to steer with difficulty by the sun which still showed dimly
through the drift. It was amazing suddenly to walk out of the wall of
drift into light airs at Little Razorback Island. One minute it was
blowing and drifting hard and I could see almost nothing, the next it was
calm, save for little whirlwinds of snow formed by eddies of air drawn in
from the north. In another three hundred yards the wind was blowing from
the north. On this day Atkinson found wind force 8 and temperature -17 deg.
at Hut Point: at Cape Evans the temperature was zero and men were sitting
on the rocks and smoking in the sun. Many instances might be given to
show how local our weather conditions often were.

There was a morning some time in the middle of the winter when we awoke
to one of our usual tearing blizzards. We had had some days of calm, and
the ice had frozen sufficiently for the fish-trap to be lowered again.
But that it would not stand much of this wind was obvious, and after
breakfast Atkinson stuck out his jaw and said he wasn't going to lose
another trap for any dash blizzard. He and Keohane sallied forth on to
the ice, lost to our sight immediately in the darkness and drift. They
got it, but arrived on the cape in quite a different place, and we were
glad to see them back. Soon afterwards the ice blew out.

Much credit is due to the mule leaders that they were able to exercise
their animals without hurt. Cape Evans in the dark, strewn with great
boulders, with the open sea at your feet, is no easy place to manage a
very high-spirited and excitable mule, just out of a warm stable,
especially if this is his first outing for several days and the wind is
blowing fresh, and you are not sure if your face is frost-bitten, and you
are quite sure that your hands are. But the exercise was carried out
without mishap. The mules themselves were most anxious to go out, and
when Pyaree developed a housemaid's knee and was kept in, she revenged
herself upon her more fortunate companions by biting each one hard as it
passed her head on its way to and from the door. Gulab was the biggest
handful, and Williamson managed him with skill: some of them, especially
Lal Khan, were very playful, running round and round their leaders and
stopping to paw the ground: Khan Sahib, on the other hand, was bored,
yawning continually: it was suggested that he was suffering from polar
ennui! Altogether they reflected the greatest credit upon Lashly, who
groomed them every day and took the greatest care of them. They were
subject to the most violent fits of jealousy, being much disturbed if a
rival got undue attention. The dog Vaida, however, was good friends with
them all, going down the line and rubbing noses with them in their
stalls.

The food of the mules was based upon that given by Oates to the ponies
the year before, and the results were successful.

The accommodation given to the dogs in the Terra Nova on the way south is
open to criticism. As the reader may remember, they were chained on the
top of the deck cargo on the main deck, and of course had a horrible
time during the gale, and any subsequent bad weather, which did not
however last very long. But it was quite impossible to put them anywhere
else, for every square inch between decks was so packed that even our
personal belongings for more than two years were reduced to one small
uniform case. Any seaman will easily understand that to build houses or
shelters on deck over and above what we had already was out of the
question. As a matter of fact I doubt whether the dogs had a worse time
than we during that gale. In good weather at sea, and at all times in the
pack, they were comfortable enough. But future explorers might consider
whether they can give their dogs more shelter during the winter than we
were able to do. Amundsen, whose Winter Quarters were on the Barrier
itself, and who experienced lower temperatures and very much less wind
than was our lot at Cape Evans, had his dogs in tents, and let them run
loose in the camp during the day. Tents would have gone in the winds we
experienced, and I have explained that we had no snow in which we could
make houses, as was done by Amundsen in the Barrier.

Our more peaceable dogs were allowed to run loose, especially during this
last winter, at the beginning of which we also built a dog hospital. We
should have liked to loose them all, but if we did so they immediately
flew at one another's throats. We might perhaps have let them loose if we
had first taken the precaution Amundsen took, and muzzled all of them
before doing so. The sport of fighting, so his dogs discovered, lost all
its charm when they found they could not taste blood, and they gave it
up, and ran about unmuzzled and happy. But the slaughter among the seals
and penguins would have been horrible with us, and many dogs might have
been carried away on the breaking sea-ice. The tied-up ones lay under the
lee of a line of cases, each in his own hole. They curled up quite snugly
buried in the snowdrift when blizzards were blowing, and lay exactly in
the same way when sledging on the Barrier, the first duty of the
dog-driver after pitching his own tent being to dig holes for each of his
dogs. It may be that these conditions are more natural to them than any
other, and that they are warmer when covered by the drifted snow than
they would be in any unwarmed shelter: but this I doubt. At any rate they
throve exceedingly under these rigorous conditions, soon becoming fat and
healthy after the hardest sledge journeys, and their sledging record is a
very fine one. We could not have built them a hut; as it was, we left our
magnetic hut, a far smaller affair, in New Zealand, for there was no room
to stow it on the ship. I would not advise housing dogs in a hut built
with a lean-to roof as an annexe to the main living-hut, but this would
be one way of doing it if you are prepared to stand the noise and smell.

The dog-biscuits, provided by Spratt, weighed 8 oz. each, and their
sledging ration was 11/2 lbs. a day, given to them after they reached the
night camp. We made seal pemmican for them and tried this when sledging,
as an occasional variation on biscuit, but they did not thrive on this
diet. The oil in the biscuits caused purgation, as also did the pemmican:
the fat was partly undigested and the excreta were eaten. The ponies also
ate their excreta at times. Certain dogs were confirmed leather eaters,
and we carried chains for them: on camping, these dogs were taken out of
their canvas and raw-hide harnesses, and attached to the sledge by the
chains, care being taken that they could not get at the food on the
sledge. When sledging, Amundsen gave his dogs pemmican but I do not know
what else: he also fed dog to dog: I do not know whether we could have
fed dog to dog, for ours were Siberian dogs which, I am told, will not
eat one another. At Amundsen's winter quarters he gave them seal's flesh
and blubber one day, and dried fish the next.[283] On the long voyage
south in the Fram, he fed his dogs on dried fish, and three times a week
gave them a porridge of dried fish, tallow, and maize meal boiled
together.[284] At Cape Evans or at Hut Point our dogs were given plenty
of biscuit some evenings, and plenty of fresh frozen seal at other times.

Our worst trouble with the dogs came from far away--probably from Asia.
There are references in Scott's diary to four dogs as attacked by a
mysterious disease during our first year in the South: one of these dogs
died within two minutes. We lost many more dogs the last year, and
Atkinson has given me the following memorandum upon the parasite, a
nematode worm, which was discovered later to be the cause of the trouble:

"_Filaria immitis._--A certain proportion of the dogs became infected
with this nematode, and it was the cause of their death, mainly in the
second year. It was present at the time the expedition started (1910) all
down the Pacific side of Asia and Papua, and there was an examination
microscopically of all dogs imported at this time into New Zealand. The
secondary host is the mosquito Culex.

"The symptoms varied. The onset was usually with intense pain, during
which the animal yelled and groaned: this was cardiac in origin and
referable to the presence of the mature form in the beast. There was
marked haematuria, and the animals were anaemic from actual loss of
haemoglobins. In nearly all cases there was paralysis affecting the
hindquarters during the later stages, which tended to spread upwards and
finally ended in death.

"The probable place of infection was Vladivostok before the dogs were put
on board ship and deported to New Zealand. The only method of coping with
the disease is prevention of infection in infected areas. It is probable
that the mosquitoes would not bite after the dog's coat had been rubbed
with paraffin: or mosquito netting might be placed over the kennels,
especially at night time. The larval forms were found microscopically in
the blood, and one mature form in the heart."

We were too careful about killing animals. I have explained how
Campbell's party was landed at Evans Coves. Some of the party wanted to
kill some seals on the off chance of the ship not turning up to relieve
them. This was before they were in any way alarmed. But it was decided
that life might be taken unnecessarily if they did this--and that winter
this party nearly died of starvation. And yet this country has allowed
penguins to be killed by the million every year for Commerce and a
farthing's worth of blubber.

We never killed unless it was necessary, and what we had to kill was used
to the utmost both for food and for the scientific work in hand. The
first Emperor penguin we ever saw at Cape Evans was captured after an
exciting chase outside the hut in the middle of a blizzard. He kept us
busy for days: the zoologist got a museum skin, showing some variation
from the usual coloration, a skeleton, and some useful observation on the
digestive glands: the parasitologist got a new tape-worm: we all had a
change of diet. Many a pheasant has died for less.

There were plenty of Weddell seal round us this winter, but they kept out
of the wind and in the water for the most part. The sea is the warm place
of the Antarctic, for the temperature never falls below about 29 deg. Fahr.,
and a seal which has been lying out on the ice in a minus thirty
temperature, and perhaps some wind, must feel, as he slips into the sea,
much the same sensations as occur to us when we walk out of a cold
English winter day into a heated conservatory. On the other hand, a
seaman went out into North Bay to bathe from a boat, in the full sun of a
mid-summer day, and he was out almost as soon as he was in. One of the
most beautiful sights of this winter was to see the seals, outlined in
phosphorescent light, swimming and hunting in the dark water.

We had lectures, but not as many as during the previous winter when they
became rather excessive: and we included outside subjects. We read in
many a polar book of the depressions and trials of the long polar night;
but thanks to gramophones, pianolas, variety of food, and some study of
the needs both of mind and body, we suffered very little from the first
year's months of darkness. There is quite a store of novelty in living in
the dark: most of us I think thoroughly enjoyed it. But a second winter,
with some of your best friends dead, and others in great difficulties,
perhaps dying, when all is unknown and every one is sledged to a
standstill, and blizzards blow all day and all night, is a ghastly
experience. This year there was not one of our company who did not
welcome the return of the sun with thankfulness: all the more so since he
came back to a land of blizzards and made many of our difficulties more
easy to tackle. Those who got little outside exercise were more affected
by the darkness than others. This last year, of course, the difficulties
of getting sufficient outdoor exercise were much increased. Variety is
important to the man who travels in polar regions: at all events those
who went away on sledging expeditions stood the life more successfully
than those whose duties tied them to the neighbourhood of the hut.

Other things being equal, the men with the greatest store of nervous
energy came best through this expedition. Having more imagination, they
have a worse time than their more phlegmatic companions; but they get
things done. And when the worst came to the worst, their strength of mind
triumphed over their weakness of body. If you want a good polar traveller
get a man without too much muscle, with good physical tone, and let his
mind be on wires--of steel. And if you can't get both, sacrifice physique
and bank on will.

*       *       *       *       *

NOTE

A lecture given at this time by Wright on Barrier Surfaces is especially
interesting with relation to the Winter Journey and the tragedy of the
Polar Party. The general tend of friction set up by a sledge-runner upon
snow of ordinary temperature may be called true _sliding_ friction: it is
probable that the runners melt to an infinitesimal degree the millions of
crystal points over which they glide: the sledge is running upon water.
Crystals in such temperatures are larger and softer than those
encountered in low temperatures. It is now that halos may be seen in the
snow, almost reaching to your feet as you pull, and moving forward with
you: we steered sometimes by keeping these halos at a certain angle to
us. My experience is that the best pulling surface is at an air
temperature of about +17 deg. Fahr.: Wright's experience is that below +5 deg.
during summer temperatures on the Barrier the surface is fairly good,
that between +5 deg. and +15 deg. less good, and between +15 deg. and +25 deg. best. The
worst is from +25 deg. upwards, the worst of all being round about freezing
point.

As the temperature became high the amount of ice melted by this sliding
friction was excessive. It was then that we found ice forming upon the
runners, often in almost microscopic amounts, but nevertheless causing
the sledges to drag seriously. Thus on the Beardmore we took enormous
care to keep our runners free from ice, by scraping them at every halt
with the back of our knives. This ice is perhaps formed when the runners
sink into the snow to an unusual depth, at which the temperature of the
snow is sufficiently low to freeze the water previously formed by
friction or radiation from the sun on to a dark runner.

In very low temperatures the snow crystals become very small and very
hard, so hard that they will scratch the runners. The friction set up by
runners in such temperatures may be known as _rolling_ friction, and the
effect, as experienced by us during the Winter Journey and elsewhere, is
much like pulling a sledge over sand. This rolling friction is that of
snow crystal against snow crystal.

If the barometer is rising you get flat crystals on the ice, if it is
falling you get mirage and a blizzard. When you get mirage the air is
actually coming out of the Barrier. Thus far Wright's lecture.

Since we returned I have had a talk with Nansen about the sledge-runners
which he recommends to the future explorer. The ideal sledge-runner
combines lightness and strength. He tells me that he would always have
metal runners in high temperatures in which they will run better than
wood. In cold temperatures wood is necessary. Metal is stronger than wood
with same weight. He has never used, but he suggests the possible use of,
aluminium or magnesium for the metal. And he would also have wooden
runners with metal runners attached, to be used alternately, if needed.

The Discovery Expedition used German silver, and it failed: Nansen
suggests that the failure was due to the fact that these runners were
fitted at home. The effect of this is that the wood shrinks and the
German silver is not quite flat: the fitting should be done on the spot.
Nansen did this himself on the Fram, and the result was excellent. [I
believe that these Discovery runners were not a continuous strip of metal
but were built up in strips, which tore at the points of junction.]
Before it is fitted, German silver should be heated red hot and allowed
to cool. This makes it more ductile, like lead, and therefore less
springy: the metal should be as thin as possible.

As runners melt the crystals and so run on water, metal is unsuitable for
cold snow. For low temperatures, therefore, Nansen would have wooden
runners under the metal, the metal being taken off when cold conditions
obtained. He would choose such wood as is the best conductor of heat. He
tried birch wood in the first crossing of Greenland, but would not
recommend it as being too easily broken. In the use of oak, ash, maple,
and doubtless also hickory, for runners, the rings of growth of the tree
should be as far apart as possible: that is to say, they should be fast
growing. Ash with narrow rings breaks. There is ash and ash: American ash
is no good for this purpose; some Norwegian ash is useful, and some not.
Our own sledges with ash runners varied enormously. The runners of a
sledge should curve slightly, the centre being nearest to the snow. The
runners of ski should curve also slightly, in this case upwards in the
centre, i.e. from the snow. This is done by the way the wood is cut.
Wood always dries with the curve from the heart towards the outside of
the tree.

During our last year we had six new Norwegian sledges twelve feet long,
brought down by the ship, with tapered runners of hickory which were 33/4
inches broad in the fore part and 21/4 inches only at the stern. I believe
that this was an idea of Scott, who considered that the broad runner in
front would press down a path for the tapered part which followed, the
total area of friction being much less. We took one of them into South
Bay one morning and tried it against an ordinary sledge, putting 490 lbs.
on each of them. The surface included fairly soft as well as harder and
more rubbly going. There was no difference of opinion that the sledge
with the tapered runners pulled easier, and later we used these sledges
on the Barrier with great success.

If some instrument could be devised to test sledges in this way it would
be of very great service. No team of men can make an exact estimate of
the run of their own sledge, let alone the sledge which your pony or your
dogs are pulling. Yet sledges vary enormously, and it would be an
excellent thing for a leader to be able to test his sledges before buying
them, and also to be able to pick out the best for his more important
sledge journeys. I believe it can be done by attaching some kind of
balance between the sledge and the men pulling it.

Other points mentioned by Nansen are as follows:

Tarred ski are good: the snow does not stick so much. [This probably
refers to the Norwegian compound known as Fahrt.] But he does not
recommend tarred runners for sledges. Having had experience of a tent of
Chinese silk which would go into his pocket but was very cold, he
recommends a double tent, the inner lining being detached so that ice
could be shaken from both coverings. He suggests the possibility of a
woollen lining being warmer than cotton or silk or linen. I am, however,
of opinion that wool would collect more moisture from the cooker, and it
certainly would be far more difficult to shake off the ice. For four men
he would have two two-men sleeping-bags and a central pole coming down
between them, and the floor-cloth made in one piece with the tent. For
three men a three-man sleeping-bag: e.g. for such a journey as our
Winter Journey. He would not brush rime, formed upon the tent by the
steam from the cooker and breath, from the inside of tent before striking
camp. The more of it the warmer. He considers that two- or three-men
sleeping-bags are infinitely warmer than single bags: objections of
discomfort are overcome, for you are so tired you go to sleep anyway. I
would, however, recommend the explorer to read Scott's remarks upon the