Perhaps my diary from January 7, 1911, to the 8th gives a good idea of the progress we were making with the base station and of the general working day here. It reads as follows:

"Saturday, January 7, 1911.

"All hands hard at work landing stores. Meares and Dimitri running dog teams to and fro for light gear.

"Captain Scott, Dr. Wilson, Griffith Taylor, Debenham, Cherry-Garrard, and Browning leading ponies. Campbell, Levick, and Priestley hauling sledges with colossal energy and enormous loads, the majority of the ship's party unloading stores; Bowers, two seamen, Atkinson, and I unloading sledges on the beach and carrying their contents up to their assigned positions, Simpson and Wright laying the foundations for a magnetic hut, and so on. Every one happy and keen, working as incessantly as ants. I took on the job of ice inspector, and three or four times a day I go out and inspect the ice, building snow bridges over the tide cracks and thin places. The ice, excepting the floe to which the ship is fast, is several feet thick. The floe by the 'Terra Nova' is very thin and rather doubtful. We, ashore, had dinner at 10 p.m. and turned in about 11."

But the following day, although included here, was by no means typical.

"Sunday, January 8.

"This morning a regrettable accident took place. The third and newest motor sledge was hoisted out and, while being hauled clear on to the firm ice, it broke through and sank in deep water. Campbell and Day came in with the news, which Captain Scott took awfully well.

"It was nobody's fault, as Simpson and Campbell both tested the floe first and found it quite thick and apparently good. However, there it is, in about 100 fathoms of water.

"We stopped sledging for the day and those on board shifted the ship by warping, but could not get her into a satisfactory billet, so raised steam.

"We spent the day working on the hut and putting chairs and benches together. Captain Scott put the sledge meters together and I helped him. These are similar to the distance meters on motor-cars. They register in nautical miles (6084 feet) and yards, to 25 yards or less by interpolation.

"Took a True Bearing and found the approximate variation for Simpson (149 degrees E.)."

On the following day those on board the ship shifted her to a new position alongside the fast ice, just under a mile from our beach. The transportation of stores continued and we got ashore a great number of bales of compressed fodder, also some Crown Preserve Patent Fuel. As there was nothing much to do on the beach my party lent a hand with the landing of fodder, and I led the ponies Miki, Jehu, and Blossom; the latter, having suffered greatly on the outward voyage, was in poor condition. Still, most of the ponies were doing well, and at night were picketed on a snowdrift behind the hut. They occasionally got adrift, but I usually heard them and got up to make them fast, my small sleeping-tent being right alongside their tethering space.

Nelson continued working with me unless the requirements of his biological work called him away. In less than a week we had the whole of our stores and equipment landed, and from the beginning many of us took up our quarters at Cape Evans itself. We pitched several small tents on the beach; and it was an agreeable change to roll up and sleep in a fur bag after the damp, cold berths we had occupied in the ship. Teddy Nelson became my particular friend in the shore party and shared a sledging tent with me. The rest of the shore staff paired off and slept in the small tents, while Captain Scott had one to himself. We called it the "Holy of Holies," and from the privacy of this tiny dwelling Scott issued his directions, supervised, planned, and improved whenever improvement could be made in anything. He had a marvellous brain and a marvellous way of getting the best possible work out of his subordinates, still he never spared himself. One did with extraordinary little sleep, and in the sunny days it became necessary to leave tent doors wide open, otherwise the close-woven wind-proof tent cloth kept all the fresh air out and one woke with a terrific head.

To rightly get hold of our wintering place one must imagine a low spit of land jutting out into a fiord running, roughly north and south and bounded on both sides by a steep-to coast line indented with glaciers of vast size. Here and there gigantic snow-slopes were to be seen which more gradually lowered into the sea, and all around ice-covered mountains with black and brown foothills. A few islands rose to heights of 300 or 400 feet in McMurdo Sound, and these had no snow on them worth speaking of even in the winter. The visible land was of black or chocolate-brown, being composed of volcanic tuff, basalts, and granite. There were occasional patches of ruddy brown and yellow which relieved the general black and white appearance of this uninhabitable land, and close to the shore on the north side of Cape Evans were small patches of even gritty sand. In the neighbourhood of our Cape hard, brittle rocks cropped up everywhere, rocks that played havoc with one's boots. Sloping up fairly steeply from Cape Evans itself we had more and more rock masses until a kind of rampart was reached, on which one could see a number of extraordinary conical piles of rock, which looked much as if they had been constructed by human hands for landmarks or surveying beacons—these were called debris cones. This part above and behind Cape Evans was christened The Ramp, and from it one merely had to step from boulders and stones on to the smooth blue ice-slope that extended almost without interruption to the summit of Erebus itself. From The Ramp one could gaze in wonder at that magnificent volcano, White Lady of the Antarctic, beautiful in her glistening gown of sparkling crystal with a stole of filmy smoke-cloud wrapped about her wonderful shoulders.

We used to gaze and gaze at that constantly changing smoke or steam which the White Lady breathes out at all seasons, and has done for thousands of years.

Those were such happy days during the first Cape Evans summer. For the most part we had hot weather and could wash in the thaw pools which formed from the melting snow, and even draw our drinking water from the cascades which bubbled over the sun-baked rock, much as they do in summer-time in Norway.

The progress made by Davis and his crew of voluntary carpenters was amazing. One week after our arrival at the Cape, Nelson, Meares, and I commenced to cut a cave out of the ice cap above our camp for stowing our fresh mutton in. When knock-off work-time came Bowers, Nelson, and I made our way over to the ship with a hundred gallons of ice from this cave to be used for drinking water, it all helped to save coal and nobody made a journey to or fro empty handed if it could be helped. Once on board we took the opportunity to bath and shave. In this country it is certainly a case of "Where I dines I sleeps," so after supper on board we coiled down in somebody's beds and slept till 5.30 next morning when we returned to camp and carried on all day, making great progress with the grotto, which was eventually lit by electric light. We had plenty of variety in the matter of work; one part of the grotto was intended for Simpson's magnetic work, and this was the illuminated section. Whenever people visited the ice caves we got them to do a bit of picking and hewing; even roping in Captain Scott, who did a healthy half-hour's work when he came along our way.

Scott and Wilson got their hands in at dog-driving now, as I did occasionally myself. Nobody could touch Meares or Dimitri at dog-team work, although later on Cherry-Garrard and Atkinson became the experts.

The hut was finished externally on January 12 and fine stables built up on its northern side. This complete, Bowers arranged an annexe on the south side from which to do the rationing and provision issues. How we blessed all this fine weather; it was hardly necessary to wear snow glasses, in spite of so much sunshine, for the glare was relieved by the dark rock and sand around us. When all the stores had been discharged from the ship she lightened up considerably, and Campbell then set to work to ballast her for Pennell. Meares amused the naval members of our party by asking, with a childlike innocence, "Had they got all the cargo out of the steamer?" There was nothing wrong in what he said, but the "Terra Nova," Royal Yacht Squadron—and "cargo" and "steamer"—how our naval pride was hurt!

Incidentally we called the sandy strand (before the winter snow came, and covered it, and blotted it all out) Hurrah Beach; the bay to the northward of the winter quarters we christened Happy Bay. Although our work physically was of the hardest we lived in luxury for a while. Nelson provided cocoa for Captain Scott and myself at midnight just before we slept. He used to make it after supper and keep it for us in a great thermos flask. We only washed once a week and we were soon black with sun and dirt but in splendid training. In the first three weeks my shore gang, which included the lusty Canadian physicist, Wright, carried many hundreds of cases, walked miles daily, dug ice, picked, shovelled, handed ponies, cooked and danced. Outwardly we were not all prototypes of "the Sentimental Bloke," but occasionally in the stillness of the summer nights, we some of us unbent a bit, when the sun stood low in the south and all was quiet and still, and we did occasionally build castles in the air and draw home-pictures to one another, pictures of English summers, of river picnics and country life that framed those distant homes in gold and made them look to us like little bits of heaven—however, what was more important, the stores were all out of the "Terra Nova," even to stationery, instruments, and chronometers, and we could have removed into the hut at a pinch a week before we did, or gone sledging, for that matter, had we not purposely delayed to give the ponies a chance to regain condition. It was certainly better to let the carpenter and his company straighten up first, and in our slack hours we, who were to live in the palatial hut, got the house in order, put up knick-knacks, and settled into our appointed corners with our personal gear and professional impedimenta only at the last moment, a day or two before the big depot-laying sledge journey was appointed to start. Simpson and Ponting had the best allotments in the hut, because the former had to accommodate anemometers, barometers, thermometers, motors, bells, and a diversity of scientific instruments, but yet leave room to sleep amongst them without being electrocuted, while the latter had to arrange a small-sized dark room, 8 ft. by 6 ft. floor dimension, for all his developing of films and plates, for stowing photographic gear and cinematograph, and for everything in connection with his important and beautiful work as camera artist to the Expedition. Ponting likewise slept where he worked, so a bed was also included in the dark room.

Before moving the chronometers ashore Pennell, Rennick, and I myself took astronomical observations to determine independently the position of the observation spot on the beach at Cape Evans. The preliminary position gave us latitude 77 degrees 38 minutes 23 seconds S. longitude 166 degrees 33 minutes 24 seconds E., a more accurate determination was arrived at by running meridian distances from New Zealand and taking occultations during the ensuing winter, for longitude: latitudes were obtained by the mean results of stars north and south and meridian altitudes of the sun above and below pole.

Before getting busy with the preliminaries for the big depot journey, I took stock of the fresh meat in the grotto. The list of frozen flesh which I handed over to Clissold, the cook, looked luxurious enough, for it included nothing less than 700 lb. of beef, 100 sheep carcasses, 2 pheasants, 3 ox-tails, and 3 tongues, 10 lb. of sweetbread, 1 box of kidneys, 10 lb. of suet, 82 penguins, and 11 skua-gulls! The cooks' corner in the hut was very roomy, and, if my memory serves me aright, our cooking range was of similar pattern to one supplied to the Royal yacht, "Alexandra."

On January 19 a snow road was made over to the ice foot on the south side of Cape Evans in order to save the ponies' legs and hoofs. The Siberian ponies were not shod, and this rough, volcanic rock would have shaken them considerably.

A great deal of the bay ice had broken away and drifted out of the Sound, so that by the 20th the ship was only a few hundred yards from Hurrah Beach. This day Rennick, smiling from ear to ear, came across the ice with the pianola in bits conveyed on a couple of sledges. He fixed it up with great cleverness at one end of the hut and it was quite wonderful to see how he stripped it on board, brought it through all sorts of spaces, transported it undamaged over ice and rocky beach, re-erected it, tuned it, and then played "Home, Sweet Home." What with the pianola going all out, the gramophone giving us Melba records, and the ship's company's gramophone squawking out Harry Lauder's opposition numbers, Ponting cinematographing everything of interest and worthy of pictorial record, little Anton rushing round with nosebags for the ponies, Meares and Dimitri careering with the dog teams over ice, beach, packing cases, and what not, sailors with coloured tam-o'-shanters bobbing around in piratical style, the hot sun beating down and brightening up everything, one might easily have imagined this to be the circus scene, in the great Antarctic joy-ride film. Everything ran on wheels in these days, and it was difficult to imagine that in three months there would be no sun, that this sweltering beach would be encrusted with ice, and that the cold, dark winter would be upon us.

The 21st was quite an exciting day. Captain Scott woke me at 4 a.m. to tell me that the ship was in difficulties. I got up at once, called the four seamen, and with Uncle Bill we all went out on to the floe. The ice to which the ship was fast had broken away, and so we helped her re-moor with her ice-anchors. Petty Officer Evans went adrift on the floe, but we got him back in the pram. We turned in again at 5.15 and set a watch, but at 6.30 the "Terra Nova" hoisted an ensign at the main, a pre-arranged signal, and so all hands again went out and got her ice anchors; she slipped the ends of the wire hawsers holding them and stood out into the Sound. The ice was breaking up fast, a swell rolling in causing the big floes to grind and crunch in rather alarming fashion. Fortunately, Pennell had raised steam, which was just as well for before he got clear the ship was only half a cable from Cape Evans, which lay dead to leeward—she was well out of it. We took the wire hawsers, pram and ice anchors to our winter quarters and kept them in readiness for the ship's return, then had a delightful breakfast, with appetites sharpened from the early morning exercise and chill wind. Afterwards we continued the preparations for the depot trip and got eight out of eleven sledges fitted up with the bulk of their gear and a portion of stores.

At about 3 p.m. the "Terra Nova" came in, and just as she was turning to come alongside the fast ice she struck a rock with only twelve feet of water on it. This pinnacle, as it proved to be, lay within twenty feet of a sounding of eleven fathoms. Pennell immediately sounded all round, shifted several tons weight aft, and with the engines going full speed astern, he made his crew run from side to side and roll ship. Scott sent me out in the whaler with a party to assist the ship; we sounded all round and quickly made a plan of the relative disposition of the soundings round the "Terra Nova." However, as we finished, the ship moved astern and successfully floated, the crew gave three cheers, and we cheered lustily from the whaler. Pennell, as usual, was quite equal to the occasion when the ship struck; he was absolutely master of the situation, cool, decided, and successful. I was thankful to see the ship floating again, for, unlike the "Discovery" expedition, we had no plans for a relief ship.

When I told Captain Scott that the "Terra Nova" had run ashore he took it splendidly. We ran down to the beach, and when we beheld the ship on a lee shore heeling over to the wind, a certain amount of sea and swell coming in from the northward, and with the ultimate fate of the Expedition looking black and doubtful, Scott was quite cheerful, and he immediately set about to cope with the situation as coolly as though he were talking out his plans for a sledge journey.

After the "Terra Nova" got off this intruding rock she was steamed round to the edge of the fast ice, near the glacier tongue which juts out between Cape Evans and Cape Barne. We placed her ice-anchors, and after that Wilson and I went on board and had a yarn with Pennell, whom we brought back to tea. Scott was awfully nice to him about the grounding and told him of his own experience in 1904, when the "Discovery" was bumping heavily in a gale just after freeing herself from the ice at Hut Point.

Nelson, Griffith Taylor, Meares, and Day helped me with the sledge packing until 11.30 p.m. when we rolled into our bunks tired out and immediately fell asleep.

The next day, a Sunday, was entirely devoted to preparing personal gear for the depot journey: this means fitting lamp wick straps to our fur boots or finnesko, picking from our kits a proportion of puttees and socks, sewing more lamp wick on to our fur gloves so that these could hang from our shoulders when it was necessary to uncover our hands. We also had to fit draw-strings to our wind-proof blouses and adjust our headgear according to our individual fancy, and finally, tobacco and smokers' requisites would be added to the little bundle, which all packed up neatly in a pillow-slip. This personal bag served also as a pillow.



CHAPTER VI

SETTLING DOWN TO THE POLAR LIFE

The following members were selected for the depot journey which Captain Scott elected to lead in person: Wilson, Bowers, Atkinson, Oates, Cherry-Garrard, Gran, Meares, Ford, Crean, Keohane, and myself. It was decided to take eight pony-sledges and two dog-sledges, together with about a ton of pony food, sledging rations, dog biscuit, and paraffin to a position on the Great Ice Barrier as far south as we could get before the first winter set in. This decision was arrived at by Scott after consultation with Oates and others, and, as will be seen by reference to the list of those chosen for the journey, none of the scientific staff were included except Wilson himself.

The ponies selected were either those in the best condition or the weaker beasts which from Oates's viewpoint would hardly survive the rigours of the winter. Apart from the animals picked for this journey, we had nine beasts left to be taken care of by the little Russian, Anton, and the trusty Lashly, whose mechanical knowledge and practical ability were needed to help get the Base Station going.

On January 3 I was sent on board with all the sledges, including two for a western geological reconnaissance and a small spare sledge for use in case of breakdown or accident to the depot-laying people. By this time no ice remained in the bay north of Cape Evans and the transport out to the "Terra Nova" had perforce to be done by boat.

I was glad to have this chance of working out the errors and rates of our chronometer watches, and, although I was up at 5 a.m., I could not resist having a long yarn, which continued far into the night, with those never-to-be-forgotten friends of mine, Campbell, Pennell, Rennick, and Bruce, the worthy and delightful lieutenants of the Expedition. Like little Bowers, Pennell and Rennick have made the supreme sacrifice, and only Campbell, Bruce and myself remain alive to-day.

January 24 was a busy day. Captain Scott was fetched from the shore directly after breakfast, and at 10 a.m. the ship left for Glacier Tongue to shadow as it were, the string of white Siberian ponies which were being led round over the fast ice in the bay to the southward of Cape Evans.

On arriving at the Tongue, Pennell selected a nice, natural wharf to put his ship alongside, and, this done, I got a picketing line out on the ice for the horses and then got the sledges on to the glacier. It is as well here to describe Glacier Tongue briefly, since frequent reference will be made to that icy promontory in this narrative.

Glacier Tongue lies roughly six miles to the S.S.E. of Cape Evans and is a remarkable spit of ice jutting out, when last surveyed, for four miles into McMurdo Sound. Soundings showed that it was afloat for a considerable part of its length, and as Scott found subsequently, a great portion of it broke adrift in the autumn or winter of 1911 and was carried by the winds and currents of the Sound to a position forty miles W.N.W. of Cape Evans, where it grounded, a huge flat iceberg two miles in length. Glacier Tongue was an old friend of mine, for it was here in the 1902-4 Relief Expedition that the crew of the little "Morning" dumped twenty tons of coal for the "Discovery" to pick up on her way northward, when the time came for her to free herself from the besetting ice which held her prisoner off Hut Point.

The ponies were marched to their tethering place without further accident than one falling through into the sea, but he was rescued none the worse. Oates showed himself to advantage in managing the ponies: he was very fond of telling us that a horse and a man would go anywhere, and I believe if we sailor-men had had the bad taste to challenge him he would have hoisted one of those Chinese ma[1] up to the crow's-nest! [1: Chinese for horse.]

We all had tea on board and then, after checking the sledge loads and ascertaining that nothing had been forgotten, the depot party started out with full loads and marched away from Glacier Tongue for seven miles, when our first camp was made on the sea ice. To commence with I went with Meares and No. 1 dog-sledge; the dogs were so eager and excited that they started by bolting at a breakneck speed and, in spite of all that we could do, took us over the glacier edge on to the sea ice. The sledge capsized and both Meares and I were thrown down somewhat forcibly. We caught the sledge, however, and got the dogs in hand after their initial energy had been expended. Scott and Wilson managed their dog sledge better as Meares gave them a quieter team.

It was about nine o'clock when we camped, Meares, Wilson, Scott and I sharing a tent. Uncle Bill was cook, and I must say the first sledging supper was delightful.

We went back to Glacier Tongue the next day to relay the fodder and dog biscuit which was to be depoted. We had brought the provisions for depot along the eve before. I went in with Meares and Nelson, who had come out on ski to "speed the parting guest." We had a rare treat all riding in on the dog sledge at a great pace. Had lunch on board and then Captain Scott gave us an hour or two to ourselves, for it was the day of farewell letters, everybody sitting round the ward-room table sucking pens or pencils, looking very wooden-faced and nonchalant despite the fact that we were most certainly writing to our nearest and dearest, sending through our letters an unwritten prayer that we should be spared after steadfastly performing our alloted tasks with credit to our flag and with credit to those at whose feet we yearned to lay the laurels we hoped to win. Even as I wrote my farewell letters Captain Scott, Wilson, Bowers, and Nelson found time to write to my wife; Scott's letter may well be included here for it shows his thoughtfulness and consideration:

"January, 25, 1911, Glacier Tongue, McMurdo Sound.

"Dear Mrs. Evans,—I thought you might be glad to have a note to tell you how fit and well your good man is looking, his cheery optimism has already helped me in many difficulties and at the present moment he is bubbling over with joy at the 'delights' of his first sledge trip.

"He will have told you all the news and the ups and downs of our history to date, and you will have guessed that he has always met the misfortunes with a smile and the successes with a cheer, so that very little remains for me to say—except that I daily grow more grateful to you for sparing him for this venture. I feel that he is going to be a great help in every way and that it will go hard if, with so many good fellows, we should fail in our objects.

"Before concluding I should really like to impress on you how little cause you have for anxiety. We have had the greatest luck in finding and establishing our winter quarters, and if I could go shopping to-morrow I should not know what to buy to add to our comfort. We are reaping a full reward for all those months of labour in London, in which your husband took so large a share—if you picture us after communication is cut off it must be a very bright picture, almost a scene of constant revelry, with your husband in the foreground amongst those who are merry and content—I am sure we are going to be a very happy family and most certainly we shall be healthy and well cared for.

"With all kind regards and hopes that you will not allow yourself to be worried till your good man comes safely home again.

"Yours sincerely,

"R. SCOTT."

I said my good-byes after an early tea to the fellows of the "Terra Nova" and also to the Eastern party, the lieutenants saw me over the side, and I went away with a big lump in my throat, then Nelson and I took out a 10-ft. sledge with 530 lb. of fodder on it—rather too heavy a load, but it all helped, and the sea ice surface was none too bad. We did not get to camp till 10.35 p.m.: Meares, with his usual good-heartedness, came out from the tent and helped us in for the last miles or so. He had driven the dogs out with another load after tea time. Uncle Bill had a fine pemmican supper awaiting us. My job kept me in camp next day to adjust theodolites, but the rest of the party went out to bring the final relay of depot stores from the "Terra Nova." During the following days we relayed the depot stuff along to a position near the edge of the Barrier, and whilst so engaged most of us found time to visit Hut Point. While Captain Scott was selecting the position for dumping a quantity of compressed fodder bales the remainder of the party dug the snow out of the old hut left by the Discovery in 1904. It looked a very deserted place, and the difference between the two winter quarters, Hut Point and Cape Evans, was amazing. One could quite understand the first expedition here selecting Hut Point for its natural harbour, but for comfort and freedom from unwelcome squalls and unpleasant gusts of wind commend me to Cape Evans. Never in my life had I seen anything quite so dreary and desolate as this locality. Practically surrounded by high hills, little sunshine could get to the hut, which was built in a hollow. Of course, we saw the place at its worst, for the best summer months had passed. The hut itself had been erected as a magnetic observatory and it contrasted shabbily with our 50-ft by 25-ft. palace. We did not finish clearing the snow away, although with so many willing workers we made considerable progress. In parts the midsummer sun had melted the snow, which in turn had re-frozen into blue ice, and this we found troublesome because the slender woodwork of the hut would not stand any heavy pick work.

We christened the place on the Barrier edge Fodder Camp, and it was the general opinion that we could risk leaving the bales of hay here until the depot stuff had been taken south. Accordingly, all the more important stores were relayed on January 29 to a position two miles in from the Barrier edge. Whilst doing this relay work I went in with Meares to Hut Point to bring out some 250 lb. of dog biscuit, and our dogs, being very fresh, scented a seal, took charge of the light sledge, and, in spite of all the brakeing and obstructing Meares and I put up, the dogs went wildly forward until they reached the seal. The second they came to it Meares and I found ourselves in the midst of a snapping, snarling, and biting mixture, with the poor seal floundering underneath. While we were beating the dogs off the seal bit Meares in the leg; he looked awfully surprised and showed great forbearance in not giving the seal one for himself with the iron-shod brake stick. I never saw anybody less vicious in nature than "Mother" Meares: he never knocked the dogs about unless it was absolutely necessary. Even Osman, the wild wolf-like king-dog, showed affection for him.

Whilst moving the sledging stores to Safety Camp, as we called the depot, two miles in, we came across two tents left by Shackleton two or three years before. They contained a few stores and a Primus stove, which proved to be most useful later on. On January 30 and 31 we completed the depot at Safety Camp and then reorganised the depot party, owing to Atkinson's developing a very sore heel, which made it impossible for him to accompany us. It did not matter very much, because we had heaps of people to work the depot-laying journey, only it meant a disappointment for Atkinson, which he took to heart very much. The question of sledging experience made us wish to have Atkinson on this trip, but he gained it a few weeks later. Accordingly, I took over Crean's pony, Blossom, whilst he took charge of our sick man and returned with him to Hut Point. Scott himself took Atkinson's pony, and on the 2nd February the caravan proceeded in an E.S.E. direction to make for a point in approximately 78 degrees S. 169 degrees E. Most of the ponies had 600 lb. leads on their sledges, Meare's dog team 750, and Wilson's 600. We found the surface very bad, most of the ponies sinking deep in the snow. After doing roughly five miles we halted and had a meal. Oates was called into our tent and consulted with a view to bettering the conditions for the ponies. As a result it was decided to march by night and rest during the day when the sun would be higher and the air warmer. There was quite a drop in the temperature between noon and midnight, and it was natural to suppose that we should get better and harder surfaces with the sun at its lower altitude. We still, of course, had the sun above the horizon for the full twenty-four hours, and should have for three weeks yet; the choice was altogether a wise one and we therefore turned in during the afternoon and remained in our sleeping-bags until 10 p.m. when we arose and cooked our breakfast.

Camp was broken at midnight and the march resumed. For three hours we plodded along, a little leg weary perhaps, on account of the unusual time for marching and working physically. We had lunch about 3 a.m. and rested the ponies for a couple of hours. The surface was still very bad, the ponies labouring heavily, and my own animal, Blossom, suffered through his hoofs being very small, so that he sank into the snow far more than did the other horses. It was on his account that we only covered nine miles. I did some surveying work after our 7.30 a.m. supper and turned in at 10 o'clock until 7 p.m. Captain Scott took over cook in our tent and made the breakfast.

For the next few days we continued marching over the Great Ice Barrier, the distances covered depending on the condition of Blossom and another pony, Bluecher. Both of these animals caused anxiety from the start, and, owing to their weakness the depot-laying distances scarcely exceeded ten miles daily. There is nothing to be gained from a long description of this autumn journey, it was merely a record of patiently trudging and of carefully watching over the ponies. Generally speaking, the weather was not in our favour, the sky being frequently overcast, and we experienced an unpleasant amount of low drift.

February 5 and 6 were blizzard days during which no move could be made, and it was not until nearly 11 p.m. on the 7th that the hard wind took off and the snow ceased to drift about us. The blizzards were not serious but were quite sufficient to try the ponies severely—Blossom, Bluecher, and a third animal, James Pigg, could in no way keep up with the van, although their loads were lightened considerably. The bluejackets, Forde and Keohane, showed extraordinary aptitude in handling the ponies, but in spite of their efforts their animals were quite done up by February 12, as also was poor old Blossom. It would have been cruel to continue with them, they were so wasted, and even their eyes were dull and lustreless. Accordingly, Scott decided to send Bluecher, James Pigg, and Blossom back with Forde, Keohane, and myself. A reorganisation was made near the 79th parallel, and whilst the main party proceeded southward, Forde, Keohane, and I took our feeble ponies northward with the intention of getting them home to Hut Point before the temperature fell, until the cold would be too great for them to stand. It was annoying for me to be sent back, still there was plenty of survey work to be done between the turning-point and Safety Camp. Bluecher failed from the start and lay down in the snow directly the depot party left us. Forde lifted him up, but his legs were limp and would not support him. We rubbed the poor pony's legs and did what we could for him, poor old Forde being practically in tears over the little beast. To give one an idea of this wretched animal's condition, when it was decided to kill him for humanity's sake and his throat was cut by Keohane with a sailor's knife, there was hardly any blood to let out. It was a rotten day for all three of us, blowing too hard to travel until very late, and a second pony, Blossom, was doing his best to die. We made some little way homeward, Keohane, James Pigg and myself pulling the sledge with our gear on it, and Forde lifting, carrying, and pushing Blossom along. I felt I ought to kill this animal but I knew how angry and disappointed Scott would be at the loss, so kept him going although he showed so much distress. It was surprising what spirit the little brute had: if we started to march away Blossom staggered along after us, looking like a spectre against the white background of snow. We kept on giving him up and making to kill him, but he actually struggled on for over thirty miles before falling down and dying in his tracks. We built a snow-cairn over him and planted what pony food we had no further use for on the top of the cairn.

The third pony, James Pigg, was kept fit and snug under a big snow-wall whenever we were not marching, and he won home to Safety Camp with very little trouble, frequently covering distances equal to our own marching capability. Once Safety Camp had been regained we got good weather again and James Pigg became quite frisky, ate all that we could give him, and, to our delight, his eyes regained their brightness and he began to put on flesh.

We spent a couple of days at Safety Camp before Captain Scott returned with the dog teams. In order to cut off corners he shaved things rather fine, and getting rather too close to White Island, the dog teams ran along the snow-bridge of a crevasse, the bridge subsided, and all the dogs of Scott's and Meares's sledge, with the exception of Osman, the leader, and the two rear animals, disappeared into a yawning chasm. Scott and Meares secured their sledge clear of the snow bridge and with the assistance of their companions, Wilson and Cherry-Garrard, who had the other team, they were lowered by means of an Alpine rope into the crevasse until they could get at the dogs. They, found the poor animals swinging round, snapping at one another and howling dismally, but in an awful tangle. The dogs were rescued a pair at a time and, fortunately for all concerned, they lay down and rested when hauled up to the surface by Uncle Bill and "Cherry." When all the animals were up and Scott and Meares themselves had regained safety, a dog fight took place between the two teams. Apart from this excitement things had gone very well. Scott was most enthusiastic about the capabilities of Meares's dogs, and he then expressed an opinion that he would probably run the dogs light on the Polar journey and do the final plateau march to the Pole itself with them. What a pity he didn't! Had he done so he might have been alive to-day.

We learnt from the dog-drivers that the depot had been established in 79 degrees 30 minutes S. 169 degrees E., practically one hundred and fifty miles distant from the base, and here a ton or so of sledging stores awaited us preparatory for the great sledge journey to the Pole.

Bowers, Oates, and Gran had been left to build up the depot and lead back the other five ponies with their empty sledges. We waited for them at Safety Camp before transporting some of the stuff we had left here out to Corner Camp, the position thirty-five miles E.S.E. of Safety Camp, where the crevasses ended. Some of us went into Hut Point to see if the ship had been there with any message. Little did we dream whilst we sauntered in over the ice of the news that awaited us. We found that the "Terra Nova" had been there the day before Atkinson and Crean had got there; she had also made a second visit on the 9th or 10th February, bringing the unwelcome news that Amundsen's expedition had been met with in the Bay of Whales. The "Terra Nova" had entered the bay and found the "Fram" there with the Norwegians working like ants unloading their stores and hut-building in rather a dangerous position quite close to the Barrier edge. Amundsen's people had about 120 dogs and a hard lot of men, mostly expert ski-runners. They were contemplating an early summer journey to the Pole and not proposing to attempt serious scientific work of any sort. Further, to our chagrin, the eastern party had not effected a landing, for Campbell realised that it would be profitless to set up his base alongside that of the Norwegians.

The ice conditions about King Edward VII. Land had been found insuperable, great masses of land ice barring the way to their objective, and so poor Campbell and his mates left news that they were reluctantly seeking a landing elsewhere. We spent a very unhappy night, in spite of all attempts to be cheerful. Clearly, there was nothing for us but to abandon science and go for the Pole directly the season for sledging was advanced enough to make travelling possible after the winter. It now became a question of dogs versus ponies, for the main bulk of our stuff must of necessity be pony-drawn unless we could rely on the motor sledges—nobody believed we could. However, all the arguing in the world wouldn't push Amundsen and his dogs off the Antarctic continent and we had to put the best face on our disappointment. Captain Scott took it very bravely, better than any of us, I think, for he had done already such wonderful work down here. It was he who initiated and founded Antarctic sledge travelling, it was he who had blazed the trail, as it were, and we were very very sorry for him, for such news, such a menace, could hardly be expected to give him a happy winter.

Scott did the best thing under the circumstances: he set us all to work on the 23rd February to get out three weeks' men provisions for eight men from the stores at Safety Camp, and these collected and packed, he, Cherry-Garrard, and Crean took a 10-ft. sledge, and Forde, Atkinson, and myself a 12-ft. one, while Keohane and James Pigg pulled another big sledge containing oats and paraffin, and we all set out in a bunch for Corner Camp, thirty odd miles away. All this depot work meant an easy start next season, since the transport of great loads over sea ice and the deep, soft snow, which is usually encountered when first getting on to the Barrier hereabouts, would strain the ponies' legs and break the hearts of the dogs. Scott thought all this out and certainly overcame preliminary difficulties by getting so much pony food, provision, and paraffin out to One Ton Camp and Corner Camp. He felt the benefit next springtime. This second little run out is not worth describing; we sighted Bowers's party coming back with the five ponies whilst we were camped one night, and we noted that they were travelling very quickly, which proved all was well with these animals.

On arrival at Corner Camp Scott left us in order to get back and see the five ponies safely conducted to Hut Point. He instructed me to make easy marches with our friend James Pigg as there was no further work for him this season. Cherry-Garrard and Crean accompanied Scott, and the three pushed on at their utmost for blizzard weather had come again and the snow fall was considerable.

We must now follow Captain Scott's and Bowers's party, who, in conjunction, engaged on the problem of getting five ponies and two dog teams to Hut Point. There did not seem to be anything in doing this, but if ever a man's footsteps were dogged by misfortune, they surely were our leader's.

Scott sent Cherry-Garrard and Crean with Bowers and four ponies across the sea ice from the Barrier edge to reach Hut Point on March 1. He himself had remained with Oates and Gran to tend the pony Weary Willie, a gutless creature compared to the others, which was showing signs of failing. Weary Willie died for no apparent reason, unless his loss of condition was due to the blizzards we encountered on the depot journey.

Bowers and Co. made a good start, but the ponies they had were undoubtedly tired and listless after their hard journey, they were also in bad condition and frequently had to be rested. When they had advanced some way towards Hut Point over good strong sea ice, cracks became apparent and a slight swell showed Bowers that the sea ice was actually on the move. Directly this was appreciated his party turned and hastened back, but the ice was drifting out to sea. The ponies behaved splendidly, jumping the ever widening cracks with extraordinary sagacity, whilst Bowers and his two companions launched the sledges over the water spaces in order not to risk the ponies' legs. Eventually they reached what looked like a safe place and, since men and ponies were thoroughly exhausted, camp was pitched and the weary party soon fell asleep, but at 4.30 the next morning Bowers awoke hearing a strange noise. He opened the tent and found the party in a dreadful plight—the ice had again commenced to break up and they were surrounded by water. One of the ponies had disappeared into the sea. Camp was again struck and for five hours this plucky little party fought their way over three-quarters of a mile of drifting ice. They never for an instant thought of abandoning their charge, realising that Scott's Polar plans would in all probability be ruined if four more ponies were lost with their sledges and equipment. Crean, with great gallantry, went for support, clambering with difficulty over the ice. He jumped from floe to floe and at last climbed up the face of the Barrier from a piece of ice which swung round in the tideway and just touched the ice cliff at the right moment. Cherry-Garrard stayed with Bowers at his request, for this undaunted little seaman would never give up his charge while a gleam of hope remained.

For a whole day these two were afloat on a floe about 150 ft. square, all the ice around was broken up into similar floes, which were rising and falling at least a foot to the heavy swell. A moderate breeze was blowing from the eastward, and nothing was visible above the haze and frost smoke except the tops of two islands named White and Black Islands, and the hills around Hut Point. Whilst Crean was clambering over bits of ice and jumping by means of connecting pieces from one big floe to another, his progress was watched by Bowers through the telescope of a theodolite. One can gather how delighted Bowers must have been to see Crean eventually high up on the Barrier in the distance, for it meant that he would communicate with Captain Scott, whose intelligent, quick grasp, in emergency would surely result in Gran being despatched on ski over to Cape Evans, for he alone could do this. Once there, a boat could have been launched and the floe party rescued. Bowers's satisfaction was short-lived, however, since Killer whales were noticed cruising amongst the loose ice, and these soon became numerous, some of them actually inspecting the floe by poking their noses up and taking an almost perpendicular position in the water, when their heads would be raised right above the floe edge. The situation looked dangerous, for the whales were evidently after the ponies. The wind fell light as the day progressed and the swell decreased and vanished altogether. This fortunately resulted in the floes closing near to the Barrier, and the open water spaces decreased then to such a degree that the party were able to bridge the cracks by using their sledges until they worked the whole of their equipment up to the Barrier face, where Bowers and Cherry-Garrard were rescued by Scott, Oates, Gran, and Crean. After a further piece of manoeuvring a pony and all the sledges were recovered, the three other ponies were drowned. Only those who have served in the Antarctic can realise fully what Bowers's party and also Scott's own rescue party went through.

The incident which terminated in the loss of three more of our ponies cast a temporary gloom over the depot party when we reassembled in the safety of the old ramshackle magnetic lean-to at Hut Point. I use the word lean-to because one could hardly describe it as a hut, for the building was with out insulation, snow filled the space between ceiling and roof, and whenever a fire was kindled or heat generated, water dripped down in steady pit-a-pat until there was no dry floor space worth the name.

It might be interesting to touch on the experiences of our friend James Pigg, for this pony can only be described as a quaint but friendly little rogue. He and Keohane seemed to have their own jokes apart from us. We were left to ourselves on the 27th February, while Scott, as stated, pushed forward to Safety Camp, "we," meaning Atkinson, Forde, Keohane, and myself. We were kept in camp on the 27th by a strong blizzard, and the next day when the weather abated, during our forenoon march James Pigg fell into a crevasse, quite a small one, and his girth, through so much high feeding, jammed him by his stomach and prevented him falling far down. The whole situation was ridiculous. We parbuckled him out by means of the Alpine rope, which was quickly detached from the sledge, James Pigg taking a lively interest in the proceedings, and finally rolling over on his back and kicking himself to his feet as we four dragged him up to the surface. This done, Keohane looking very Irish and smiling, bent over and peered down into the bluey depths of the crevasse and, to our intense amusement, James Pigg strolled over alongside of him and hung his head down too. He then turned to Keohane, who patted his nose and said, "That was a near shave for you, James Pigg!"

We got to Safety Camp on the evening of March 1 and found two notes from Captain Scott directing us to make for Hut Point via Castle Rock, and notifying us that the sea ice was all on the move. We had an interesting climb next day, but a very difficult one, for we were on the go from 9 a.m. until after 11 that night. First we found our way over the Barrier Ice to the foot of the slope leading up to the ice ridge northward of Castle Rock. Here we tethered James Pigg and spent some hours getting our gear and sledges up the slope. We had no crampons for this work as they were all on Scott's own sledge, so that it was necessary at times to pull up the slopes on hands and knees, assisted by our ski sticks, an unusual procedure but the only one possible to employ on the steeper blue ice. We took the sledges up one by one and then went down with an Alpine rope to help James Pigg. We found the pony very bored at our long absence; he neighed and whinnied when we came down to him, and, to our great surprise, went up the long, steep slope with far greater ease than we did ourselves.

It was out of the question for us to proceed the four and a half miles along the ridges which led down to Hut Point, for darkness had set in and we had no wish to repeat the performance of an earlier expedition when a man lost his life hereabouts through slipping right over one of these steep slopes into the sea on the western side of the promontory ridge which terminates at Hut Point.

It was snowing when we turned in and still snowing on March 3 when we turned out of our sleeping-bags. James Pigg, quite snug, clothed in his own, Blossom's, and Bluecher's rugs, had a little horseshoe shelter built up round him. We did not know at this time of the pony disaster, but, thinking Captain Scott might be anxious if he got no word as to our whereabouts or movements, Atkinson and I started to march along the ice ridges of Castle Rock and make our way to Hut Point. It was blowing hard and very cold, but the joy of walking on firm ice without a sledge to drag was great. When finally we came to the old "Discovery" hut at lunch time, we found Wilson, Meares, and Gran in very low spirits. They told us that Bowers and Cherry-Garrard were adrift on an ice floe and the remainder of the party had gone to the rescue along the Barrier edge. We were much downcast by this news, and after a meal of biscuit and tea, started back for our camp. The weather was now clearer, and we could see some way out over the Barrier; we could also see the sea looking very blue against the white expanse of ice.

On the way back we discussed a plan and arranged that we should leave Keohane with the pony, take a sledge, and make our way along the ice edge of the Barrier searching for Scott and joining up with him, but just before descending to the hollow where our tent was we spied a sledge party on the Barrier and, on reaching our camp, were delighted to see through my telescope six men. Thank God! This meant that all were safe. We went out to meet the party, reaching them about 8 p.m. where they had camped, a couple of miles from Cape Armitage, between two pressure ridges that formed great frozen waves. Bowers told me that when Scott's party attempted to save the horses at the Barrier edge, rotten ice and open water leads were the cause of their downfall, and when the horses slipped into the sea, that he had been compelled to kill his own pony with a pickaxe to save him being taken alive by one of the Orcas or Killer whales. The only horse saved was Captain Scott's, one of the best we had in that Expedition.

I think the Irish sailors must have spoilt James Pigg, for, when eventually we got Scott's sledge loads up to the hill-crest where our camp was, James Pigg, instead of welcoming the other pony, broke adrift, and jumping into the new-comer's shelter, leapt on him, kicked him and bit him in the back. On March 5 we all started for Hut Point, having previously sent in Atkinson with the good news that no men's lives were lost. Wilson and party met us near Castle Rock and led the ponies in while we dropped the laden sledges, full of pony harness, tents, and sledging gear, with a sufficiency of pony fodder for a fortnight, down the ski-slope to Hut Point. It was a fine bit of toboganning and Captain Scott showed himself to be far more expert than any of us in controlling a sledge on a slippery slope.

We soon got into the way of climbing around on seemingly impossible slopes and could negotiate the steepest of hills and the slipperiest of steep inclines. It was largely a question of good crampons, which we fortunately possessed.

The month of March and the first half of April, 1911, proved to be the most profitless and unsatisfactory part of the Expedition. This was due to a long compulsory wait at Hut Point, for we could not cross the fifteen miles that lay between our position there and the Cape Evans Station until sea ice had formed, which could be counted on not to break away and take us into the Ross Sea in its northward drift. Time after time the sea froze over to a depth of a foot or even more and time and again we made ready to start for Cape Evans to find that on the day of departure the ice had all broken and drifted out of sight. As it was, we were safely, if not comfortably, housed at Hut Point, with the two dog teams and the two remaining ponies, existing in rather primitive fashion with seal meat for our principal diet. By the end of the first week in March we had converted the veranda, which ran round three sides of the old magnetic hut, into dog and pony shelters, two inner compartments were screened off by bulkheads made of biscuit cases, a cook's table was somehow fashioned and a reliable stove erected out of petrol tins and scrap-iron. Our engineers in this work of art were Oates and Meares. For a short while we burnt wood in the stove, but the day soon came when seal blubber was substituted, and the heat from the burning grease was sufficient to cook any kind of dish likely to be available, and also to heat the hut after a fashion.

Round the stove we built up benches to sit on for meals, and two sleeping spaces were chosen and made snug by using felt, of which a quantity had been left by Scott's or Shackleton's people. The "Soldier" and Meares unearthed same fire bricks and a stove pipe from the debris heap outside the hut and then we were spared the great discomfort of being smoked out whenever a fire was lit. An awning left by the "Discovery" was fixed up by several of us around the sleeping and cooking space, and although rather short of luxuries such as sugar and flour, we were never in any great want of good plain food.

On March 14 the depot party was joined by Griffith Taylor, Debenham, Wright, and Petty Officer Evans.

Taylor's team had been landed by the "Terra Nova" on January 27, after the start of the depot party, to make a geological reconnaissance. In the course of their journeying they had traversed the Ferrar Glacier and then come down a new glacier, which Scott named after Taylor, and descended into Dry Valley, so called because it was entirely free from snow. Taylor's way had led him and his party over a deep fresh-water lake, four miles long, which was only surface frozen—this lake was full of algae. The gravels below a promising region of limestones rich in garnets were washed for gold, but only magnetite was found. When Taylor had thoroughly explored and examined the region of the glaciers to the westward of Cape Evans, his party retraced their footsteps and proceeded southward to examine the Koettlitz Glacier. Scott had purposely sent Seaman Evans with this party of geologists, reasoning with his usual thoughtfulness that Evans's sledging experience would be invaluable to Taylor and his companions.

Taylor and his party made wonderful maps and had a wonderful store of names, which they bestowed upon peak, pinnacle, and pool to fix in their memories the relative positions of the things they saw. Griffith Taylor had a remarkable gift of description, and his Antarctic book, "The Silver Lining," contains some fine anecdotes and narrative.

According to Taylor's chart the Koettlitz Glacier at its outflow on to the Great Ice Barrier is at least ten miles wide. The party proceeded along the north of the glacier for a considerable distance, sketching, surveying, photographing, and making copious notes of the geological and physiographical conditions in the neighbourhood, and one may say fearlessly that no Antarctic expedition ever sailed yet with geologists and physicists who made better use of the time at their disposal, especially whilst doing field work.

This party hung on with their exploration work until prudence told them that they must return from the Koettlitz Glacier before the season closed in. Their return trip led them along the edge of the almost impenetrable pinnacle of ice which is one of the wonders of the Antarctic. Their journey led them also through extraordinary and difficult ice-fields that even surprised the veteran sledger Evans. Their final march took them along the edge of the Great Ice Barrier and brought them to Hut Point on March 14.

We now numbered sixteen at this congested station; the sun was very little above the horizon and gales were so bad that spray dashed over the small hut occasionally, whilst all round the low-lying parts of the coast wonderful spray ridges of ice were formed. We had our proportion of blizzard days and suffered somewhat from the cold, for it was rarely calm. Some of us began to long for the greater comforts of the Cape Evans Hut; there was no day, no hour in fact, when some one did not climb up the hillock which was surmounted by the little wooden cross put up in memory of Seaman Vince of the "Discovery" expedition, to see and note the ice conditions.

Winter was coming fast and night shadows of cruel dark purple added to the natural gloom of Hut Point and its environments. Wilson was the one man amongst us who profited most from our sojourn here. In spite of bad light and almost frozen fingers he managed to make an astonishing collection of sketches, portraying the autumn scenes near this corner of Ross Isle. How sinister and relentless the western mountains looked, how cold and unforgiving the foothills, and how ashy gray the sullen icefoots that girt this sad, frozen land.

There was, of course, no privacy in the crowded hut-space, and when evening came it was sometimes rather a relief to get away to some sheltered corner and look out over the Sound. The twilight shades and colours were beautiful in a sad sort of way, but the stillness was awful. Whenever the wind fell light new ice would form which seemed to crack and be churned up with every cat's-paw of wind. The currents and tidal streams would slowly carry these pancakes of ice up and down the Strait until the weather was calm enough and cold enough to cement them together till they formed floes, which in their turn froze fast into great white icefields strong enough to bear us and any weights we liked to take along. One often turned in, confident that a passage could be made over the frozen sea to Glacier Tongue at least, but in the morning everything would be changed and absolutely no ice would be visible floating in the sea. When Taylor's party had rested a little at Hut Point they threw in their lot with the rest of us and made occasional trips out on the silent Barrier as far as Corner Camp, to add sledge loads of provisions now and again to the stores already depoted there in readiness for the southern sledge journey, on which we built our hopes for ultimate triumph.

Eight of us went out for a week's sledging on March 16, but the temperatures were now becoming too low to be pleasant and touching 40 degrees or so below zero. What tried us more than anything else was thick weather and the fearfully bad light on days when no landmarks were visible to guide us to the depot. Our sleeping-bags also were frozen and uncomfortable, thick rime collecting on the insides of our tents which every puff of wind would shake down in a shower of ice. When sitting round on our rolled-up sleeping-bags at meal times we could not help our heads and shoulders brushing off patches of this frost rime, which soon accumulated in the fur of the sleeping-bags and made life at night a clammy misery. The surfaces were very heavy, and dragging even light sledges when returning from the depot proved a laborious business.

This autumn time gave a series of gales and strong winds with scarcely ever more than a few hours of calm or gentle breeze, sandwiched in between. Sometimes we used ski, but there are occasions when ski are quite useless, owing to snow binding in great clogs underneath them. The Norwegians use different kinds of paraffin wax and compositions of tar and other ingredients for overcoming this difficulty. Gran had brought from Christiania the best of these compositions, nevertheless there were days when whatever we put on we had difficulty with ski and had to cast them aside. There were people who preferred foot-slogging to ski at any time, and there were certainly days when teams on foot would literally dance round men pulling on ski. In the light of experience, however, the expert ski-runner has enormous advantage over the "foot-slogger," however good an athlete.

What strikes me here is the dreadful similarity in weather condition, wind, temperature, etc., surface and visibility to that which culminated in the great disaster of our expedition and resulted in poor Scott's death exactly a year later. Here is a day taken haphazard from my diary:

"From Corner Camp to Hut Point:

"March 18, 1911.—Called the hands at 6.15 and after a fine warming breakfast started off on ski. The light was simply awful and the surface very bad, but we did six miles, then lunched. After lunch carried on with a strong wind blowing, but after very heavy dragging we were forced to camp when only nine and a half miles had been laid between us—we really couldn't see ten yards. Just after we camped the wind increased to about force 6, alternately freshening up and dying away, and a good deal of snow fell. Temperature 32.5 below zero."

One year later Scott was facing weather conditions and surfaces almost identical, but the difference lay in that he had marched more than sixteen hundred miles, was short of food, and his party were suffering from the tragic loss of two of their companions and the intense disappointment of having made this great sledge journey for their country's honour to find that all their efforts had been in vain, and that they had been anticipated by men who had borne thither the flag of another nation.

When Scott found that we sledgers were getting temperatures as low as minus forty he decided to discontinue sledging rather than risk anything in the nature of severe frostbite assailing the party and rendering them unfit for further work, for it must be remembered that we had already been away from our base ten weeks, that many of us had never sledged before, and that the depot journey was partly undertaken to give us sledging experience and to point out what improvements could be made in our clothing and equipment.

The first and second weeks in April brought the ice changes that we had so long awaited, and after one or two false starts two teams set out from Hut Point on April 11 to make their way across the fifteen miles of sea ice to Cape Evans.

This turned out to be a somewhat hazardous journey, since it had to be made in the half light with overcast weather and hard wind. Scott took charge of one tent and had with him Bowers, Griffith Taylor, and Petty Officer Evans, while I had in my party Wright, Debenham, Gran, and Crean. The seven who remained at Hut Point in charge of dogs and ponies helped us out a league or so for the first part of our journey.

The route led first up the steep ice slope over-hanging Hut Point, and then to the summit of the ridge, which is best described as the Castle Rock promontory. Our sojourn at Hut Point had given us plenty of chance to learn the easier snow roads and the least dangerous, and Scott chose the way close eastward of Castle Rock to a position four miles beyond it, which his first expedition had named Hutton Cliffs. From Castle Rock onward the way took us to the westward of two conical hills which were well-known landmarks—a hitherto untrodden route—but the going was by no means bad. Bitingly cold for faces and finger-tips, still, no weights to impede us. We camped for lunch after covering seven miles, for the light was bad, but it improved surprisingly whilst we were eating our meal. Accordingly, we put on our crampons about 3 p.m. and struck camp, securely packing the two green tents on the sledges, and casting a careful eye round the loads, tightened a strap here, hitched there, and then led by Scott we made a careful descent to the precipitous edge of the ice cap which overlays the promontory. We got well down to a part that seemed to overhang the sea and, to our delight, found a good solid-looking ice-sheet below us which certainly extended as far as Glacier Tongue. The drop here was twenty-five feet or so and Taylor and I were lowered over the cornice in an Alpine rope, then Wright and then the sledges, after that the remainder of the party. An ash-pole was driven into the snow and the last few members sent down in a bowline at one end of the rope whilst we below eased them down with the other part. The two parts of the Alpine rope working round the pole cut deeply into the over-hanging snow and brought a shower of ice crystals pouring over the heads and shoulders of whoever was sitting in the bowline. It was a good piece of work getting everything down safely, and I admired Scott's decision to go over; a more nervous man would have fought shy because, once down on the sea ice there was little chance of our getting back and we had got to fight our way forward to Cape Evans somehow.

When Taylor and I got first down we were greeted with a weird and wonderful sight: constant drifts of snow had formed a great overhang and the ice cliff was wreathed in a mass of snowy curtains and folds which took all manner of fantastic turns and shapes. A fresh wind was blowing continuously that made it most unpleasant for those above, and it was a relief to us all when the last man was passed down in safety, it was Scott himself.

We quickly harnessed up again and swung out over the sea ice towards Glacier Tongue, the cliffs of which stood out in a hard, white line to the northward, a couple of miles away. Arrived at the Tongue, Bowers and I clambered up a ten-foot cliff face by standing on Wright's and Crean's shoulders. We then reached down and hauled up the sledges and the others, harnessed up again, and proceeded to cross the Glacier, which was full of small crevasses. We reached the northern side of it and went down an easy snow slope to the sea ice beyond. As far as one could see this ice continued right up to and around Cape Evans, seven miles away to the N.W. It was now 6.30 p.m.; Scott halted us and discussed our readiness to make a night march into the winter quarters. There was not one dissentient voice, and we gladly started off at 8 o'clock for a night march to our snug and comfortable hut, picturing to ourselves a supper of all things luxurious. Our feet seemed suddenly to have taken wings, but, alas, the supper was not to be, for thick weather set in, and when, by 10 o'clock the wind was blowing hard and it was pitch dark, Scott suddenly decided to camp under the shelter of Little Razorback Island, where by that time we had arrived. We passed a filthy night here, for the snow on the sea ice was saturated with brine and, in no time, our sleeping-bags became wet and sticky.

Next day we were called at six to find a blizzard with a high drift making it impossible to move, so we remained in our bags until 4 p.m., when we shifted on to the narrow platform of rock situated on the south side of Little Razorback. We had one small meal here, but our condition was not a pleasant one, since little food remained and fuel was short. There was undoubtedly a chance that the sea ice would break up and drift away in this high wind. Had that happened we should have been left to starve on the tiny island. The position was not an enviable one. We got back into our bags, which were, as stated, wet and beastly, after a scanty supper and tried to sleep, but our feet were wet too, and cold, so that few of us could do more than close our eyes. The night passed slowly enough, and we turned out at 7 a.m. to cook what remained of our food before attempting to make Cape Evans. We were glad that it had stopped snowing and, although the light was bad enough, we could just make out the ice foot showing up bold and white on the south side of the Cape. After the meal we struck camp, formed marching order, and started half running for winter quarters. Covering a couple of miles we found, to our great relief, that the fast ice not only extended up to the Cape but right round into North Bay. We soon sighted the hut, and shortly after saw some people working outside. Directly they saw us in they ran to bring the others out at full speed, and coming to meet us they cheered and greeted us, then hauled our sledges in. It appeared they were unable to recognise any of us owing to our dirty and dishevelled state. This was not to be wondered at, for we had not washed nor had we shaved for eighty days: We all talked hard and exchanged news. Ponting lined us up to be photographed—the first nine Bolshevists—we looked such awful blackguards.

Now, April 13, 1911, as communication had been established between Hut Point and Cape Evans, we settled down for the winter. I shall never forget the breakfast that Clissold prepared for us at 10.30 that morning. It was delicious—hot rolls, heaps of butter, milk, sugar, jam, a fine plate of tomato soup, and fried seal cooked superbly. The meal over, we shaved, bathed, and put on clean clothes, smoked cigarettes, and took a day's holiday. At 10 o'clock that evening, by prearrangement, Very's lights were fired to let them know at Hut Point of our safe arrival. Our own signal was answered by a flare. Gramophone records were dug out and we lazily listened to Melba singing and to musical comedy tunes, those who had energy and sufficient inclination got the pianola going, and finally each man unfolded his little story to another member of the Expedition who had taken no part in the sledging.

Captain Scott was delighted at the progress made by those left in our hut under Dr. Simpson, everything was in order, the scientific programme in full swing, and nothing in the shape of bad news beyond the loss of an ill-tempered pony called Hackenschmidt, and one more dog that appeared to have died from a peculiar disease—a minute thread-worm getting to his brain, this according to Nelson who had conducted the post-mortem.



CHAPTER VII

ARRANGEMENTS FOR THE WINTER

Less than a fortnight from the day of our return to Cape Evans, on April 23 to be exact, the sun left us to remain below the horizon for four long weary months. Of course, there was a considerable amount of twilight, and even on midwinter's day at noon there was some gray light in the north. Different people took the winter in different fashion, according to their temperaments. There were some who never could have faced a second winter with any degree of cheerfulness, but taking it all round, we did well enough, and when summer came again our concrete keenness and zeal had not one whit abated. That is especially true in the case of those who were chosen to make the great journey southward, even though it was obvious that certain members could only accompany their leader for a mere fraction of the great white way.

During the four months' winter darkness each one occupied himself with his special subject, and Dr. Wilson not only proved himself to be an efficient chief of our scientific staff, but a sound friend and companion to the executive members, Bowers, Oates, Meares, and myself. Uncle Bill was our Solomon and it was to him that we all went for sympathy and practical advice. It was to him the staff went, that is to say, the officers and scientists, for the smoothing over of those little difficulties, roughnesses, and unevennesses that were bound to arrive from time to time during the course of winter. The sailors came more to Bowers, Oates, and myself, for, in their conservative naval way, they could never quite get over the fact that the hut was not a ship and that there were other members who, although they had never come under any sort of naval or military discipline, were men of greater age and experience in fending for themselves than youngsters like Bowers and myself. Still, things went beautifully, and so they should have, when one considers the great care our leader had exercised in the selection of his personnel.

If Scott had had his choice again and if he had been allowed to select from the whole world, one can say without hesitation he would have chosen Wilson to captain our splendid scientific team and to be his human book of reference. Wilson was more nearly Scott's own age than the other important members of this enterprise, and Wilson, it must be remembered, had pulled shoulder to shoulder with Scott on his southern sledge journey in 1902-3.

Before taking a peep at the individuals forming the rest of our party and at their delicate scientific work at the base station, I must not forget to mention that Scott, with his indomitable energy, was away again four days after his return to Cape Evans with Bowers, Crean, and five fresh men to Hut Point for the dual purpose of replenishing that station with fuel, lighting material, etc., and getting those who should be at Cape Evans for certain work and duty back there. Scott returned by the way we had come, i.e. the Glacier Tongue-Castle Rock route, and then left the dog-boy with Meares to take charge of these animals, Lashly and Keohane to nurse and exercise the two ponies, and Nelson and Forde to get into the way of winter roughing it, besides which he left Day over at Hut Point, where his clever fingers found plenty to do to ameliorate the condition of those living there. Day had learnt much under Shackleton in these parts, and by some of us he was nicknamed "Handy Andy." Meares was now appointed "Governor of Hut Point." As a matter of fact he and his dogs were better off here than at Cape Evans, because the dogs could use the big sheltered verandas already mentioned, whereas they had no such shelter at Cape Evans.

Scott was back in the hut by April 21, having left Meares definite orders that James Pigg and Punch the ponies were not to leave Hut Point for Cape Evans until the entire journey could be made over the sea ice under conditions of absolute safety. This meant a wait of three weeks to a month before everything suited, and the "Governor of Hut Point" did not come in until the 13th May, when he arrived in pomp and splendour with all the dogs and the two ponies fit and well—his party, black with soot and blubber, their wind-proof clothing smelly and greasy, a dirty but robust and cheerful gang.

A glance at the accompanying plan shows whereabout we worked. Starting at the left hand top corner we find Simpson's laboratory, and we usually found Simpson in it at work, always at work, except when he was engaged in scientific argument or when, just after lunch, he stretched himself out on his bunk at the end of a large cigar! Simpson was no novice to work in the frigid zones, for he had already wintered within the Arctic circle in northern Norway. Weather did not worry him much nor apparently did temperatures, for since his investigations midst the snows of the Vikings' land, Simpson had worked extensively in India. His enduring good humour and his smiling manner earned for him the sobriquet of Sunny Jim.

In the first year the self-registering instruments that found themselves in Simpson's corner, or in the small hut which contained his magnetic observatory, gave us an admirable record of temperatures, barometric pressures, wind force and direction, atmospheric electricity, sunshine when the sun did shine, and the elements of terrestrial magnetism. Thanks to Simpson, we also had investigations of the upper air currents, aurora observations, atmospheric optics, gravity determination and what is more, some fine practical teaching that enabled the various sledging units properly to observe and collect data of meteorological importance. Simpson's place was essentially at the base station; and his consequent work as physicist and meteorologist prevented him from taking an active part in our sledge journeys. When he was recalled to Simla in 1912 his work was ably continued by Wright, our Canadian chemist, who, as I have said elsewhere, accompanied us south to make a special study of ice structure and glaciation.

Wright lived in the bunk above Simpson's, and when not devoting his energy and magnificent physique to sledging and field work, he gave himself up to the study of ice physics, a somewhat new scientific line of research. Wright was originally introduced to the Expedition by Griffith Taylor, and Scott, advised by Wilson, was so keen on the inclusion of this young Canadian chemist in our scientific staff that really the study of ice structure and glaciation was made for Wright and his science coined for him. He photographed ice flowers formed in the sea, he found out how long ice took to freeze down our way, cast aspersions on the bearing capabilities of our beloved sea ice and, generally, brought his intelligence to bear in a way that commanded the approbation of Wilson and our chief. Wright was one of the strongest members of our Expedition, and he had the most powerful flow of language. He made some beautiful photographs of ice crystals and surprised the simple sailor like myself with his ability as a navigator and astronomer.

Moving along from Wright and Simpson we come to Nelson and Day. Teddy Nelson, our marine biologist, did both winters at Cape Evans, and he not only carried out biological work but studied the tides. His corner was pleasant to look upon, with its orderly row of enamelled and china trays and dishes. During the winter months holes were made in the sea ice through which were lowered tow-nets, for collecting drifting organisms and so on. Special thermometers of German make were lowered by Nelson through the ice holes to get sea temperatures, and likewise reversing water bottles were employed to obtain samples of sea-water daily.

Day, the motor engineer, was responsible for the lighting by acetylene. He was wonderfully clever as a mechanic and also a good carpenter. He took charge of our petrol, paraffin, and spirit store, and was never idle for a minute.

Moving along to the right we come to the last cubicle, where the "Rubbleyubdugs" lived. These were Tryggve Gran, Griffith Taylor, and Frank Debenham. (All libel actions in connection with the Ubdugs I am prepared to settle out of port in the long bar at Shanghai.) Quoting from the "South Polar Times": "'The Ubdug Burrow' is festooned with kodaks, candles and curtains; they (the Ubdugs) are united by an intense love of the science of autobiography, their somewhat ambiguous motto is 'the pen is mightier than the sword, but the tongue licks them both!'" Griffith Taylor and Debenham were both Australians: the former was probably the wittiest man in the Expedition, and, in my opinion, the cleverest contributor to the "South Polar Times," excepting of course the artistic side. The "South Polar Times" was our winter magazine, beautifully illustrated by Wilson's water colours and Ponting's photographs. Taylor's motto was "Advance, Australia!"—most certainly he helped it to. People were always welcome in the Ubduggery, where they seemed to have an unlimited supply of cigarettes and good novels.

Debenham was certainly nurse to the Ubdugs, that is to say he was the least untidy, but then of course he was the smallest. In this cubicle the most voluminous of diaries were kept, and at least two books have been published therefrom. Gran kept his diary mostly in Norwegian, but there were many words coined in our Expedition which had no Scandinavian equivalent, and Gran failed to translate them, in spite of his having more imagination than any one amongst us.

Crossing over the hut to the cubicle opposite one arrives at the somewhat congested space in which Cherry-Garrard was housed, with Bowers above him. In their corner were store lists, books, and mystery bags which contained material for the "South Polar Times," toys and frivolous presents to liven us up at the midwinter and other festivities. Bowers and Cherry-Garrard were, in a way, worse off than the others, for they had the darkest part of the hut, yet in this gloomy tenement all kinds of calculations were made and much other good work done.

Oates came next, with his bunk more free of debris than anybody else's, for he was the horse man, pure and simple, and his duties freed him from that superabundance of books, instruments, stationery, specimens, charts, and what-not with which we others had surrounded ourselves. Any spare gear he kept in the saddle room, a specially cleared space in the stables, where he was assisted by the little Russian groom, Anton, who soon became devoted to his hard-working and capable master. The two men, so unlike in appearance and character, etc., and such miles apart in social standing and nationality, worked shoulder to shoulder in the stables throughout the long winter night. By the dim candle-light which illuminated our pony-shelter, one could see Oates grooming his charges, clearing up their stall, refitting their harness, and fixing up the little improvements that his quick, watchful eye continually suggested. At the far end of his stables he had a blubber stove, where he used to melt ice for the ponies' drinking water and cook bran mashes for his animals. Here he would often sit and help Meares make dog pemmican out of seal meat—they made about 8 cwt. of this sustaining preparation.

Moving along from the Chateau, Oates, Meares's and Atkinson's two bunks came next, Meares above and Atkinson below. These two sleeping berths likewise were not conspicuous by any superfluity of scientific oddments, for Meares's work took him outside of the hut as a rule, unless he was engaged in making dog harness. Meares and Oates were the greatest friends, and these two, Atkinson, Cherry-Garrard and Bowers, were, if I remember rightly, known collectively as the Bunderlohg. Although numerically superior to their vis-a-vis, the Ubdugs, and always ready to revile them, the Ubdugs kept their end up and usually came out victorious in discussions or in badinage.

Finally, the Holy of Holies, where Captain Scott and the library occupied one end and Uncle Bill and myself the far corner, with the ceaselessly ticking chronometers and many sledging watches. There was an air of sanctity about this part: all the plotting was done here, charts made and astronomical observations worked out. Wilson worked up his sketches at the "plotting table," interviewed the staff here, and above his bunk kept a third of the shore party's library. We had two comfortable trestle beds up our end and our leader also had a bed in preference to the built-up bunk adopted by most of the afterguard. Ours was the Mayfair district: Wilson and I lived in Park Lane in those days, whilst Captain Scott occupied Grosvenor Street! He had his own little table covered with "toney" green linoleum, and also had a multiplicity of little shelves on which to keep his pipes, tobacco, cigars, and other household gods. It was well illuminated in this part, and, although, hung around with fur mitts, fur boots, socks, hats and woollen clothing, there was something very chaste about this very respectable corner. For the rest of it we had our Arctic library, and the spare spaces on the matchboard bulkhead, which fenced it on three sides, were decorated with photographs. In place of eiderdown Scott's old uniform overcoat usually covered his bed, while peeping out from under his sleeping place one could espy an emblem of civilisation and prosperity in the shape of a very good suit-case.

The foregoing pages illustrate sufficiently the grouping of the afterguard, and if one adds an anthracite stove, a 12 ft. by 4 ft. table, a pianola, gramophone, and a score of chairs, with a small shelf-like table squeezed in between the dark-room and Simpson's corner, one completes the picture of the officers' quarters in the Cape Evans Hut. A bulkhead of biscuit cases and so on divided us from the men's accommodation. They were very well off, each seaman having a trestle bed similar to Captain Scott's, unless he preferred to build a bunk for himself, as one or two did. They had a table 6 ft. by 4 ft., and the cook had a kitchen table 4 ft. square, and certainly no crew space was ever provided on a Polar Expedition that gave such comfortable and cosy housing room.



CHAPTER VIII

THE WINTER CLOSES IN

The closing down of the Polar night was very swift now and the few hours of gray daylight were employed collecting what data was required by certain members for working on during the forthcoming days of darkness. Young Gran was handed over to me to help with the survey work and astronomical observations which had to be taken from time to time. He was a most entertaining assistant. Without complaint, he stood patiently shivering in that cutting winter wind whilst I swung around the theodolite telescope and took angles for him to write down in my notebook. I don't think anybody has made a triangulated survey under conditions worse than we endured that epoch: the weather was beastly and we spent much time dancing when nearly sick with cold, our fingers tucked under our arms to recover their feelings. When one's extremities did get frost-bitten it was no joke—frost-bitten finger tips gave us little peace at night with their sharp burning pain.

The most interesting part of the survey work was what is known to the surveyor as coast-lining. This meant walking along the edge of the sea ice, fixing one's position by sextant angle every five hundred yards or so, and sketching in a notebook the character and features of the ever changing coast between the various "fixes." One could keep warm doing this and one saw more of the land and ice formation than the others, for it meant following carefully round-cape and glacier edge, penetrating inlets and delineating every islet, promontory, cliff, and talus.

In spite of the cold, the gloom, and the sad whistling wind that heralded the now fast approaching darkness, I felt glad to work with my sextant and sketch-book under the shadow of those fantastic ice-foots hung round with fringes of icicle. I loved to go with Gran into the deep bays and walk for miles under the overhanging of the vast ice cliffs all purple in the reflection of the early winter noon, and to come out sometimes as we did on to the sea ice clear of a jutting glacier, to face suddenly northward over the frozen sea where nothing but a great waste of ice stretched away to meet the horizon and the rosy, copper glow of the departed sun's rays. Some of the cloud effects at the end of April were too wonderful for mere pen or brush to describe. To appreciate them one must go there and see them, those wonderful half-light tints.

Then there were the ice caves and grottos which were formed in the grounded icebergs that had overturned before we came, and the still more wonderful caves in the ice-sheet where it over-rode Ross Island and formed a cliff-face between Cape Evans and Glacier Tongue, extraordinarily like the white chalk cliffs of Studland Bay I found them, with here and there outstanding pinnacles which a little imagination would liken to Old Harry Rocks when the gray light was on them.