While the first oceanographical cruise of the 'Aurora' did not prove very fruitful in results, chiefly on account of the stormy weather, it provided the necessary training for officers and men in the handling of the deep-sea gear, and we were able to realize later how much we had learnt on our first cruise.

The ship, after undergoing a thorough overhaul at the State dockyard at Williamstown, Victoria, undertook a second deep-sea cruise.

Leaving Hobart on November 12, 1912, she laid her course to the southward in order to obtain soundings for a complete section of the sea-floor, as nearly as possible on the meridian of Hobart. Our time was limited to one month, during which a visit to Macquarie Island for the purpose of landing stores and mail had to be made. Professor T. Flynn of Hobart University accompanied the vessel in charge of the biological work.

An interesting discovery was made two hundred miles south of Tasmania. Here it was proved that a rocky ridge rose like a huge mountain from depths of more than two thousand fathoms to within five hundred and forty fathoms of the surface. A great number of soundings were taken in the vicinity of this rise, subsequently named the Mill Rise, until a heavy gale drove us far from its situation.

On November 21 we were not far from Macquarie Island and, at 7 P.M., sounded in one thousand four hundred and fifty fathoms. As the weather was remarkably fine for these latitudes we decided to lower the trawl. Before dark it was being towed slowly towards the east with one thousand nine hundred fathoms of wire out.

We spent an anxious night hoping that the weather would remain fine long enough to permit us to get the gear on board again. We had been driving before a light westerly wind, when the trawl caught on the bottom and stopped the vessel.

A very heavy strain was imposed on the wire as the vessel rose in the swell; the dynamometer registering up to seven tons. I decided to wait for daylight before attempting to heave in the trawl. At 3 A.M. we cast the wire off the after-block and started to heave away; it was two hours before the trawl cleared the bottom and the strain was reduced.

At 8 A.M. the trawl was once more on board, the frames being bent and twisted and the net badly torn. On sounding, the depth was found to be only six hundred and thirty-six fathoms, so that we had evidently put over the trawl on to the edge of a steep rise and then drifted across it.

In view of our position—only thirty miles from Macquarie Island—this accident might have been expected. But opportunities of trawling had been so few that risks had to be taken when the weather quieted down for a few hours. Our only consolation on this occasion was that we recovered the gear.

The following evening, at 7.30, the anchor was dropped in North-East Bay, Macquarie Island, and we were immediately boarded by our land party who were all well. They had become very clever boatmen during their stay, using a small dinghy to make coastal journeys.

On November 24 we left the anchorage at 9 A.M. and spent the day in its vicinity. More than one hundred soundings were taken, which Blake, the geological surveyor, was to plot on the chart of the island which he had almost completed.

Some idea of the steepness of the submarine mountain of which Macquarie Island forms the crest may be gathered from a sounding, taken ten and a half miles east of the island, which gave two thousand seven hundred and forty-five fathoms and no bottom. In other words, if the sea were to dry up, there would be a lofty mountain rising from the plain of the ocean's bed to a height of nearly eighteen thousand feet.

A great deal of work still required to be done off Macquarie Island, but, as the uneven and rocky nature of the bottom prevented dredging, I decided to sail on the 25th, continuing the voyage towards the Auckland Islands.

Several people had expressed belief in a submarine ridge connecting Macquarie Island with the Auckland group. Three soundings which we obtained on this voyage did not support the suggestion, ranging as they did from one thousand eight hundred and fifty-five to two thousand four hundred and thirty fathoms, eighty-five miles south-west of the Auckland group. We were the more glad to obtain these soundings, as, during the winter cruise, in the same waters, the weather had forced us to abandon the attempt.

On November 28 we took several soundings on the eastern side of the Auckland Islands, but did not prolong our stay as we wished to investigate the ridge south of Tasmania—the Mill Rise. The course was therefore directed westward with a view to outlining the eastern edge of this submarine elevation.

The first sounding to indicate that we were once more approaching the Mill Rise was in one thousand and seventy-six fathoms. Continuing west we secured the next record in one thousand three hundred fathoms, limiting the southern extremity of the ridge which extends northward for nearly one hundred miles. From this sounding the water shoaled quickly as we steered north. Thus, on the same day, we were in eight hundred and thirty-five fathoms at noon, in seven hundred and thirty-five fathoms at 3.40 P.M. and in seven hundred and ten fathoms at 7.30 P.M. After the last sounding we lowered the rock-gripper. On the first trial, however, it failed to shut and, on the second, only a little fine sand was recovered. As it was blowing hard most of the time, we were very fortunate in being able to do this piece of work.

An inspection of the chart reveals the fact that the main direction of the shallowest water is in a north-west and south-east direction, but the number of soundings obtained was too small to give more than a general outline. Later, we were able to add to these on the voyage southward to relieve the Antarctic Bases.

The weather was so bad and the sea so heavy that we were unable to obtain soundings on December 9, and, as dredging under such conditions was out of the question, I decided to steer for the east coast of Tasmania, where dredging might be possible under the lee of the land. The constant gales were very disheartening, the last having continued for four days with only short intervals of moderate weather.

On December 12 and 13, in calmer water, some thirty miles off the east coast of Tasmania, trawlings were made successfully in one thousand three hundred fathoms and seventy-five fathoms respectively. From the deeper trawling were obtained a large octopus and several interesting fish.

Just before noon on December 14 we arrived in Hobart and immediately began preparations for the voyage to the Antarctic.

On December 24, 1912, preparations for sailing were complete. For ten days every one connected with the 'Aurora' had been working at high pressure, and Christmas Day, our last day ashore, was to be celebrated as a well-earned holiday.

There was on board a good supply of coal, five hundred and twenty-one tons, and a very heavy mail of letters and packages for the members of the Expedition who had been isolated in the far South for more than twelve months. We were to take thirty-five sheep on board as well as twenty-one dogs, presented by Captain Amundsen upon his return from his South Polar expedition. Captain James Davis, of Hobart, of long whaling experience, was to accompany us to give an expert opinion upon such whales as we might meet. Mr. Van Waterschoot van der Gracht, who had had previous experience in the Antarctic, joined as marine artist, and Mr. S. N. Jeffryes as wireless operator. With C. C. Eitel, Secretary of the Expedition, the whole party on board numbered twenty-eight.

A very pleasant Christmas was spent ashore. The ship's company of twenty-three men met for dinner, and we did not forget to wish a "Merry Christmas" to our leader and his twenty-six comrades who were holding their celebration amid the icy solitudes of Antarctica. I was glad, on this festive occasion, to be able to congratulate officers and men on their willing and loyal service during the previous twelve months; every one had done his best to advance the objects of the Expedition.

The attractions of Hobart, at this season, are so numerous, and Tasmanian hospitality so boundless, that it gives me great pleasure to place on record that every man was at his post on the 'Aurora' at 10 A.M. on Boxing Day.

As we drew away from the wharf amid the cheers of those who had come to wish us God-speed, the weather was perfect and the scene on the Derwent bright and cheering. Captain James Davis acted as pilot.

At 11.30 A.M. we had embarked the twenty-one dogs, which were brought off from the Quarantine Station, and were steaming down Storm Bay. Outside there was a heavy swell, and the wind was freshening from the west. The course was laid south 50 degrees west, true.

For the next two days there was a westerly gale with a very high sea, and the dogs and sheep had a bad time, as a good deal of water came aboard. Two of the sheep had to be killed. By the afternoon of the 29th it had moderated, and a sounding was secured.

This storm was followed by another from the west-northwest. The 'Aurora' weathered it splendidly, although one sea came over everything and flooded the cabins, while part of the rail of the forecastle head was carried away on the morning of the 31st. At this time we were in the vicinity of the reputed position of the Royal Company Islands. A sounding was taken with great difficulty, finding two thousand and twenty fathoms and a mud bottom.

January 4, 1918, was a fine day, with a fresh westerly breeze and a high sea. Occasionally there were snow squalls. At night the wireless operator was able to hear H.M.S. 'Drake' at Hobart, and also the station at Macquarie Island; the ship having been fitted to receive wireless signals before sailing.

Next day the sun was bright and there was only a moderate westerly swell. Large bunches of kelp were frequently seen drifting on the surface. "Blue Billys"** flew in great numbers about the ship. Two soundings were obtained in one thousand nine hundred fathoms.

** Prion Banksii.

On the 8th a heavy swell came from the south-east. During the morning a sounding realized two thousand two hundred and seventy fathoms and the sample of mud contained a small, black manganese nodule. At 8 P.M. a floating cask was sighted and taken aboard after much difficulty. It turned out to be a ship's oil cask, empty, giving no clue from whence it came.

The first ice was observed about 6 P.M. on the 10th. The water was still deep—more than two thousand fathoms.

By noon on January 11 loose pack came into view, with a strong blink of heavier pack to the south. The course was changed to south-west. At 7 P.M. the ship was steaming west in clear water, a few bergs being in sight and a marked ice-blink to the south. Several whales appeared which Captain James Davis reported were "blue whales" (finners or rorquals).

After we had been steering westward until almost midnight, the course was altered to south-west in the hope of encountering the shelf-ice barrier (met in 1912) well to the east of the Main Base station. On the 12th we sailed over the position of the ice-tongue in 1912 without seeing a trace of it, coming up with heavy broken floe at 10 A.M.

For four hours the 'Aurora' pushed through massive floes and "bergy bits," issuing into open water with the blink of ice-covered land to the south. At nine o'clock Adelie Land was plainly visible, and a course was set for the Main Base. In squally weather we reached the Mackellar Islets at midnight, and by 2 A.M. on the 13th dropped anchor in Commonwealth Bay under the ice-cliffs in twenty fathoms.

At 6 A.M. Fletcher, the chief officer, reported that a heavy gust of wind had struck the ship and caused the chain to carry away the lashing of the heavy relieving-tackle. The chain then ran over the windlass, and, before anything could be done, the pointer to which the end of the chain was attached had been torn from the bolts, and our best ground-tackle was lost overboard. It was an exasperating accident.

At seven o'clock the port anchor was dropped in ten fathoms, about eight hundred yards west of the first anchorage, with ninety fathoms of chain. The wind shifted suddenly to the north, and the 'Aurora' swung inshore until her stern was within one hundred yards of the cliffs; but the depth at this distance proved to be seventeen fathoms. After a few northerly puffs, the wind shifted to the south-east and then died away.

At 2.30 P.M. the launch was hoisted over and the mail was taken ashore, with sundry specimens of Australian fruit as "refreshment" for the shore-party. The boat harbour was reached before any one ashore had seen the 'Aurora'. At the landing-place we were greeted most warmly by nine wild-looking men; some with beards bleached by the weather. They all looked healthy and in very fair condition, after the severe winter, as they danced about in joyous excitement.

We learned that five sledging parties had left the Hut: Bage, Webb and Hurley had returned from the south, Stillwell, Close and Laseron from the east, and the others were still out. In Dr. Mawson's instructions, all parties were to be back at the Hut by January 15, 1913.

The launch made some trips to and from the ship with specimens during the afternoon. I returned on board and had a look at the cable. The weather was fine, but changes were apt to occur without much warning. At midnight it was blowing a gale from the south-east, and the chain was holding well. The launch was hoisted up in the davits and communication with the shore was suspended until 8 A.M. on January 15.

The lull was of two hours' duration, during which Murphy came aboard and furnished me with some particulars about the sledging parties still away.

Dr. Mawson, with Ninnis and Mertz, had gone to the south-east. They were well provisioned and had taken eighteen dogs for transport purposes. Bickerton, Hodgeman and Whetter had been out forty-three days to the west and had food for forty days only. Madigan, McLean and Correll had been away for seventy days in an easterly direction.

Dr. Mawson had left a letter for me with instructions to take charge if he failed to return to time, that is not later than January 15, 1913.

On January 16 a party was observed from the ship coming in over the slope. There was much speculation as to its personnel since, at a distance, the three figures could not be recognized. The launch took us ashore and we greeted Madigan, McLean and Correll who had returned from a very successful expedition along the eastern coast over sea-ice.

Madigan and Bage came on board during the forenoon of the 17th and we had a long consultation about the position of affairs owing to the non-return of two parties. It was decided to re-erect the wireless mast and stay it well while the ship was waiting, so that, in case of any party being left at the Main Base, the wireless station would be in working order.**

** It should be borne in mind that during the summer months (November, December, January and part of February) wireless communication with the outside world is impossible owing to continuous daylight reducing the effective range. In summer the range was only a few hundred miles, and the effective working distance for all times of the day probably not above one hundred miles.

At one o'clock on the morning of January 18, de la Motte, the officer on watch, reported that a party could be seen descending the glacier. This proved to be Bickerton, Hodgeman and Whetter returning from their trip along the west coast. Thus Dr. Mawson's party was the only one which had not yet returned.

All day work on the wireless mast went along very satisfactorily, while Captain James Davis and Chief Officer Fletcher spent their time in the launch dragging for the cable lost on the morning of our arrival. The launch returned at 10.30 P.M. and Captain Davis reported that the grapnel had been buoyed until operations could be resumed.

On January 19 we tried to recover the chain, and to this end the 'Aurora' was taken over to the position where the grapnels had been buoyed and was anchored. All efforts to secure the chain were unsuccessful. At 7 P.M. we decided to return to our former position, having a hard job to raise the anchor, which appeared to have dragged under a big rock. Finally it broke away and came up in a mass of kelp, and with the stock "adrift." The latter was secured and we steamed back, "letting go" in eleven fathoms with ninety fathoms of chain.

When Dr. Mawson's party was a week overdue, I considered that the time had arrived to issue a provisional notice to the members of the Expedition at Commonwealth Bay concerning the establishment of a relief party to operate from the Main Base.

A party of four left the Hut on the 20th, keeping a sharp look-out to the south-east for any signs of the missing party. They travelled as far as the air-tractor sledge which had been abandoned ten miles to the south, bringing it back to the Hut.

I decided to remain at Commonwealth Bay until January 30. If the leader's party had not returned by that day, a search party was to proceed eastward while the 'Aurora' sailed for Wild's Base. From the reports of the gales which prevailed during the month of March in 1912, and considering the short daylight there was at that time, I felt that it would be risking the lives of all on board to return to the Main Base after relieving Wild's party. I resolved, therefore, to wait as long as possible. As a result of a consultation with Madigan and Bage, I had a provisional notice drafted, to be posted up in the Hut on January 22.

This notice was to the effect that the non-arrival of the leader's party rendered it necessary to prepare for the establishment of a relief expedition at Winter Quarters and appointed Bage, Bickerton, Hodgeman, Jeffryes and McLean as members, under the command of Madigan; to remain in Antarctica for another year if necessary.

On the same evening I went ashore to inspect the wireless mast, which was practically complete. The work had been done thoroughly and, provided the mast itself did not buckle, the stays were likely to hold. Hannam, Bickerton and Jeffryes were busy placing the engine and instruments in position.

I then went up the slope for about a mile. The Winter Quarters looked like a heap of stones; boundless ice rose up to the southern skyline; the dark water to the north was broken by an occasional berg or the ice-covered islands. This wonderful region of ice and sea looks beautiful on a fine day. But what a terrible, vast solitude, constantly swept by icy winds and drift, stretches away to the south! A party will go out to-morrow to visit the depot at the top of the slope. This is the seventh day we have been waiting and hoping to welcome the absentees!

On the 23rd the breeze was very strong in the forenoon, but the wind moderated about 4 P.M., when the launch was able to leave for the shore. We could see a search party (Hodgeman, Stillwell, and Correll) marching against a strong south-east wind on their way to examine the depot at Aladdin's Cave and its vicinity.

Though there was a moderate south-easter blowing, communication with the land went on during the day. I went ashore early, but the search party did not return until noon. They had remained at Aladdin's Cave overnight and marched farther south next morning, approaching a line of dense drift, without seeing anything.

It was arranged that another party of three men should start next morning (January 25) and, going in a southeasterly direction, make a search for five days, laying a depot at their farthest point. Hodgeman, Hurley and McLean made preparations to set out. I left instructions that a flag should be flown on the wireless mast if Dr. Mawson returned.

I now went through the supplies of provisions and coal which were to be landed for the use of the Relief Party. I intended to try and have everything on shore by January 29, taking advantage of any short interval of fair weather to send a boatload to the landing-place.

On the 25th there was a hard south-east gale blowing until the afternoon, when it moderated sufficiently to send off the launch with thirteen bags of coal, Gillies being in charge. The boat harbour was reached in safety, the wind freshening to a gale before 6 P.M.

Terrific gusts followed in rapid succession and, without warning, the cable parted sixty fathoms from the anchor at 9 P.M. Having cleared the reefs to leeward, we managed to get in the rest of the chain and then stood along the coast to the north-west. By keeping about three miles from the shore, we seemed to be beyond the reach of the more violent gusts, but a short sea holding the ship broadside to the wind during the squalls, rendered it difficult to maintain a fixed course.

With reefs and bergs around, the increasing darkness about midnight made our position unpleasant. The engines had to be stopped and the ship allowed to drift with the wind, owing to a bearing becoming hot, but in a quarter of an hour they were moving once more.

Early on January 26 the 'Aurora' was about half-way between Winter Quarters and the western point of Commonwealth Bay, when the wind suddenly ceased, and then came away light from the north-west. We could see that a south-east gale was still raging close inshore. Over the sea, towards the north, dark clouds were scudding with great rapidity along the horizon: the scene of a violent disturbance.

We returned towards our late anchorage. On reaching it, the south-east wind had moderated considerably, and we let go our spare anchor and what had been saved of the chain.

To the north, violent gusts appeared to be travelling in various directions, but, to our astonishment, these gusts, after approaching our position at a great rate, appeared to curve upwards; the water close to the ship was disturbed, and nothing else. This curious phenomenon lasted for about an hour and then the wind came with a rush from the south-east, testing the anchor-chain in the more furious squalls.

The gale was in its third day on the 27th, and there was a "hurricane sky" during the morning. The wind would die away, only to blow more fiercely than before. The suddenness with which the changes occurred may be gathered from the following extracts from my journal:

"January 27. 6 A.M. A whole gale blowing from the south-east.

"9 A.M. Light airs from north to east. Launch taking coal ashore.

"11 A.M. Last cargo of coal had just left ship when the wind freshened from the south-east. The launch had just got inside the boat harbour when a terrific gust struck the vessel and our chain parted. We were blown out to sea while heaving in thirty fathoms of chain which remained.

"4 P.M. We have been steaming backwards and forwards until the wind died away. The launch has just come off and taken another load of stores to the boat harbour.

"7 P.M. The weather is moderating with rising barometer. Nearly everything required by the Relief Party is now ashore. Two or three trips will take the remainder.

"We shall steam about for a few hours, and make the anchorage early to-morrow morning."

Next morning a kedge-anchor (about five hundred-weights) was lowered with the remainder of the chain. For a time this held the ship, but a gust of wind from the southeast caused it to drag. It was, therefore, hauled up and, on coming to the surface, was seen to have lost a fluke.

All equipment, coal and food were now on shore for the use of the Relief Party. I had given them everything that could be spared from the provisions set apart for the use of the ship's company. Next day I purposed to cruise along the coast to the east, if the weather were clear.

January 29 was fine, so we steamed off at 6.30 A.M. As no flag was seen on the wireless mast, we knew that Dr. Mawson had not returned. A course was kept two or three miles from the ice-cliffs beyond the fringe of rocky islets.

At 4 A.M. on the 30th we were alongside the Mertz Glacier and reached the head of the bay at the confluence of glacier with land-ice. Mount Murchison was only dimly visible, but the weather was clear along the glacier-tongue. Signals were fired and a big kite flown at a height of about five hundred feet to attract attention on shore in case the missing party were near.

"1.30 P.M. We are now about half a mile from the head of the inlet. From the appearance of the country (heavily crevassed) approach to the sea by a sledging-party would be extremely difficult. There is no floe-ice at the foot of the cliff.

"10.30 P.M. We are approaching the end of the glacier-tongue around which there is a collection of pack. There is some drift ahead and it is difficult to see far. We have passed the eastern limit of coast to be searched.

"10.35 P.M. The glacier-tongue is trending to the east and a line of heavy pack extends to the north, with many large bergs. No sign of flag or signal on the end of the barrier.

"January 31. We left the glacier-tongue at 8 A.M. and steered back to Winter Quarters.

"At noon we could see Madigan Nunatak, a rocky patch, high up on the slope.

"4.15 P.M. Sighted the large grounded berg, fifteen miles from the Main Base.

"9 P.M. Off Main Base. There is no flag to be seen on the wireless mast!

"Dr. Mawson's party is now sixteen days overdue; there must be something seriously amiss. But from our examination of the line of coast as far as 64 degrees 45' south, 146 degrees 19' east, there does not appear to be any probability of finding traces along the shore line at the base of vertical ice-cliffs."

No communication with the shore was possible until the wind, which had again risen, had moderated. We could just stand off and on until a favourable opportunity occurred. Once the returning ten members of the Expedition were embarked it was imperative to hasten towards Wild's Base.

A week's gale in Commonwealth Bay! The seven days which followed I do not think any of us will forget. From February 1 to 7 it blew a continuous heavy gale, interrupted only when the wind increased to a full hurricane ** (eighty miles an hour).

** * The maximum wind-velocity recorded at this time by the anemometer on shore was approximately eighty miles an hour.

We endeavoured to maintain a position under the cliffs where the sea had not room to become heavy. This entailed a constant struggle, as, with a full head of steam during the squalls, the vessel drove steadily seaward to where the rising waves broke on board and rendered steering more perplexing. Then, when it had moderated to a mere "howl," we would crawl back, only to be driven out again by the next squall. The blinding spray which was swept out in front of the squalls froze solidly on board and lent additional difficulty to the operation of "wearing ship."

It was on this occasion that we realized what a fine old vessel the 'Aurora' was, and, as we slowly moved back to shelter, could appreciate how efficiently our engine-room staff under Gillies were carrying out their duties. The ordinary steaming speed was six knots, yet for the whole of this week, without a hitch, the ship was being driven at an equivalent of ten knots. The fact of having this reserve power undoubtedly saved us from disaster.

A typical entry from my diary reads:

"February 6. Just as the sun was showing over the ice-slopes this morning (4 A.M.) the wind became very violent with the most terrific squalls I have ever experienced. Vessel absolutely unmanageable, driving out to sea. I was expecting the masts to go overboard every minute. This was the worst, I think, lasting about two hours. At 6 A.M., still blowing very hard but squalls less violent, gradually made shelter during the morning...."

On February 8 the weather improved after 1 A.M. The gusts were less violent and the lulls were of longer duration. At 9 A.M. there was only a gentle breeze. We steamed in towards the boat harbour and signalled for the launch to come off with the ten members of the shore-party. The latter had been instructed to remain at the Hut until the vessel was ready to sail. Here, while the gale had been in full career, they had helped to secure enough seal and penguin-meat to keep the Relief Party and their dogs for another year.

The good-byes were brief while the launch discharged the men and their belongings. Instructions were handed over to Madigan directing him to follow the course believed to have been taken by Dr. Mawson and to make an exhaustive search, commencing as soon as the 'Aurora' left Commonwealth Bay. Madigan gave me a letter containing a report of the work done by the party which had left on the 25th.

It appears that they had been confined in Aladdin's Cave for twenty-four hours by dense drift and then, in moderate drift, made four miles to the south-east. Here they camped and were not able to move for thirty-six hours in a high wind with thick snow.

On the 28th the drift decreased in amount and, though it was only possible to see a few hundred yards and crevasses were frequent, they kept a course of east 30 degrees south for six miles. A snow-mound was built and on top of it were placed provisions and a note giving the bearing and distance from Aladdin's Cave.

In the afternoon the wind subsided and it became clear. Eight miles on the same course brought them to their farthest camp, twenty-three miles from the Hut. A mound of eleven feet was erected here, provisions and a note being left and some black bunting wound among the snow-blocks. The depot was on a ridge and, with glasses, several miles could be swept to the south-east.

The party consisted of McLean, Hodgeman and Hurley.

De la Motte and Hannam took the Relief Party ashore in the launch and, as soon as they had returned—at 11.30 A.M.—we steamed out of the bay. The weather had calmed and there were light airs and a smooth sea.

The members of the Relief Party were as follows: C. T. Madigan (leader), R. Bage, F. H. Bickerton, A. J. Hodgeman, Dr. A. L. McLean and S. N. Jeffryes (wireless operator). The remaining ten members of the Main Base Party returned to Australia: J. H. Close, P. E. Correll, W. H. Hannam, J. G. Hunter, J. F. Hurley, C. F. Laseron, H. D. Murphy, F. L. Stillwell, E. N. Webb and Dr. L. A. Whetter.

Throughout the afternoon we steered north-west and at 8.30 P.M. were approaching heavy pack. Just then Hannam received a wireless message from the Main Base informing us that Dr. Mawson had reached the Hut alone, his two comrades having perished, and instructing me to return at once and pick up all hands. We turned round and steered back immediately.

At 8 A.M. on February 9 the ship entered Commonwealth Bay steaming against a strong southerly breeze with some snow. We were right up near the anchorage about noon and the Pilot Jack could be seen flying from the wireless mast. Instructions were signalled for, but our efforts were unobserved. We then steamed to and fro across the bay. At 6 P.M. it was blowing a hard gale and showed signs of becoming worse.

At 6 P.M. the wind was growing in strength and the barometer was falling. Not having received any reply to my signal for instructions, I felt it was necessary to decide whether I was justified in remaining any longer.

After considering the position in all its bearings I decided to sail westward without further delay and for the following reasons:

1. Dr. Mawson and his companions were in safety, comfortably housed and fully equipped for another winter.

2. Any further delay was seriously endangering our chance of being able to relieve Wild's party that year. The navigation of the fifteen hundred miles to the Shackleton Ice-Shelf was becoming, daily, more dangerous on account of the shortness of daylight and the conditions of the ice.

3. The only vessel which had wintered in the vicinity of the Western Base (the 'Gauss') had been frozen in as early in the season as February 22, spending more than twelve months in the ice. The 'Aurora' was not provisioned for a winter in the ice.

4. It had been ascertained from the records at the Main Base that gales were often protracted at the close of the short summer season. We had just experienced one such gale, lasting seven days.

5. As a seaman, I had realized the difficulties encountered in approaching and getting away from the Western Base in 1912. It was then three weeks later in the year.

I felt convinced that in leaving the Main Base, without further delay, I was acting as Dr. Mawson would have wished, if I had been able to acquaint him with the position of the Western Party.

At 6.30 P.M. we steamed out of the bay, the wind moderating as the ship got well out to sea. At midnight there was a moderate breeze from the south, with some snow.

On February 10 heavy pack was met, about fifty miles north of Commonwealth Bay. After coasting along its margin for a while, we pushed among the floes and, after three hours, reached a patch of fairly open water about 1 P.M.

One hour later a large ice-formation was sighted, which tallied with that met on January 3 of the previous year (1912) and which, on this occasion, was no longer in its original position. We came to the conclusion that the whole must have drifted about fifty miles to the north-west during the intervening year. The face of this huge berg, along which the 'Aurora' coasted, was about forty miles in length.

Hannam heard fragments of a message from Dr. Mawson during the evening. The words, "crevasse," "Ninnis," "Mertz," "broken" and "cable" were picked up.

Good progress was made on the 11th against a high westerly sea. The sun set in a clear sky and the barometer was slowly rising. Our position was evidently north of the pack and, if unimpeded by ice, there was a chance of the ship arriving at her destination in time.

Poor headway was made for nearly three days against an adverse wind and sea. Then, late on the 14th, a breeze sprang up from the east-south-east and, under all sail, the 'Aurora' made seven knots.

Next morning we were driving along before an easterly gale in thick snow, and at noon the day's run was one hundred and eighty miles.

The journal describes the following week:

"February 16. The weather cleared up this morning and the sun came out, enabling us to fix our position.

"We are doing about eight knots under topsails and foresail. The sky looked threatening this evening but improved considerably before midnight.

"February 17. There were frequent snow squalls today, making it difficult to see. Only a few scattered pieces of ice were about.

"February 18. Bright, clear weather to-day enabled us to get good observations. There are a great many 'blue whales' round the ship, and the many bergs in sight are suggestive of heavy pack to the south. A great many petrels and Cape pigeons have been seen.

"February 19. The ship was brought up this morning at 8.45 by a line of heavy pack extending across the course. The weather was misty, but cleared up before noon. We have been obliged to steer a northerly course along the edge of the pack.

"The margin of this pack is some sixty miles farther north than that which we followed in 1912.

"At midnight we were steering north-north-west; many bergs in sight and a line of pack to port.

"February 20. At daylight we were able to steer southwest, being at noon about twenty miles north of Termination Ice-Tongue. Pushing through the looser edge of pack for a couple of hours we saw the loom of the ice-tongue to the southward. The pack becoming closer, we turned back to the north in order to try and push through farther west, where the sky looked more promising.

"At dark we were in a patch of clear water, with ice all around. It began to snow and, as the wind remained a light easterly, the ship was allowed to drift until daylight.

"February 21. The morning was very foggy up till 11 A.M. We steered west until noon and then entered the pack; there was a promising sky towards the south. Fair progress was made through the ice, which became looser as we advanced to the south. At 8 P.M. we passed through leads by moonlight, having a favourable run throughout the night.

"February 22. At 4 A.M. the wind freshened from the south-east with some snow; the floes were getting heavier and the advent of a blizzard was not hailed with joy. About noon the ship approached open water and the snow ceased.

"We were now on the confines of the sea of bergs where navigation had proved so dangerous in 1912.

"At 8 P.M. the driving snow and growing darkness made it impossible to see any distance ahead. The next seven hours were the most anxious I have ever spent at sea. Although the wind blew hard from the south-east, we passed through the sea of bergs without mishap, guided and protected by a Higher Power.

"February 23. At 4 A.M. the loom of an ice-tongue was sighted and we were soon standing in to follow this feature until we reached the Shackleton Shelf.

"At 8 A.M. we found that we were some miles south of our reckoning.

"At 11 A.M. we sighted a depot-flag on the slope. Soon after the ship was up to the fast floe at the head of the bay, the ice being nearly a mile farther north than on the previous year. In fact, the ice-conditions as a whole had changed considerably.

"At noon we reached the Base and found the party all well."

Wild and his comrades were as glad to see the 'Aurora' as we were to see them. They had commenced to lay in a stock of seal-meat fearing that they might have to pass another winter on the glacier.

All the afternoon every one was busy getting baggage on board and watering ship. The weather was good and I had intended to sail on the same evening by moonlight, following the glacier-tongue northward in clear water for sixty miles.

As we turned northward, "all well" on board, I felt truly thankful that Wild's party had been relieved and anxiety on their account was now at an end. The party included F. Wild (leader), G. Dovers, C. T. Harrisson, C. A. Hoadley, Dr. S. E. Jones, A. L. Kennedy, M. H. Moyes and A. D. Watson.

Early on the 24th there was a fresh easterly breeze, while the ship steamed among fields of bergs, for the most part of glacier-ice. It is marvellous how a vessel can pass through such an accumulation in the dark and come off with only a few bumps!

Pack consisting of heavy broken floe-ice was entered at four o'clock on the same day, and at 8 A.M. on the 25th we were clear of it, steering once more among bergs, many of which were earth-stained. The day was remarkably fine with light winds and a smooth sea.

After we had passed through three hundred miles of berg-strewn ocean, large masses of ice, water-worn in most instances, were still numerous, and on February 27, though our position was north of the 80th parallel, they were just beginning to diminish in numbers. At noon on that day a sounding was made in two thousand two hundred and thirty fathoms.

Any hope we may have had of steaming to the east with the object of attempting to relieve the seven men at Adelie Land had to be definitely abandoned on account of the small supply of coal which remained.

There was now a clear run of two thousand miles through the zone of westerly gales and high seas, and on March 14 we reached Port Esperance. Mr. Eitel, Secretary of the Expedition, landed here and caught the steamer Dover to Hobart. We heard of the disaster to Captain Scott and it was learned that wireless messages had been received from Dr. Mawson, which had been forwarded on to Australia through the Macquarie Island party.



CHAPTER XIX THE WESTERN BASE—ESTABLISHMENT AND EARLY ADVENTURES

by F. Wild

At 7 A.M. on February 21, 1912, the 'Aurora' steamed away to the north leaving us on the Shackleton Ice-Shelf, while cheers and hearty good wishes were exchanged with the ship's company. On the sea-ice, that day, there stood with me my comrades—the Western Party; G. Dovers, C. T. Harrisson, C. A. Hoadley, S. E. Jones, A. L. Kennedy, M. H. Moyes and A. D. Watson.

We proceeded to the top of the cliff, where the remainder of the stores and gear were hauled up. Tents were then erected and the work of hut-building at once commenced. The site selected for our home was six hundred and forty yards inland from the spot where the stores were landed, and, as the edge of the glacier was very badly broken, I was anxious to get a supply of food, clothing and fuel moved back from the edge to safety as soon as possible.

Of the twenty-eight Greenland dogs that had reached Antarctica in the 'Aurora', nineteen were landed in Adelie Land and nine with us. So far, none of these had been broken in for sledging, and all were in poor condition. Their quarters on the ship had been very cramped, and many times they had been thoroughly soaked in salt water, besides enduring several blizzards in Antarctic waters.

Harrisson, Hoadley, Kennedy and Jones "turned the first sod" in the foundations of the hut, while Dovers, Moyes, Watson and I sledged along supplies of timber and stores. Inward from the brink of the precipice, which was one hundred feet in height, the surface was fairly good for sledges, but, owing to crevasses and pressure-ridges, the course was devious and mostly uphill.

Until the building was completed, the day's work commenced at 6 A.M., and, with only half an hour for a midday meal, continued until 7 P.M. Fortunately, the weather was propitious during the seven days when the carpenters and joiners ruled the situation; the temperature ranging from -12 degrees F. to 25 degrees F., while a moderate blizzard interrupted one day. The chief trouble was that the blizzard deposited six feet of snow around the stack of stores and coal at the landing-place, thereby adding considerably to our labour. As evidence of the force of the wind, the floe was broken and driven out past the foot of the "flying-fox," tearing away the lower anchor and breaking the sheer-legs on the glacier.

An average day's work on the stores consisted in bringing thirteen loads over a total distance of nine and a half miles. First of all, the cases had to be dug out of the snow-drifts, and loading and unloading the sledges was scarcely less arduous.

On February 27, while working on the roof, Harrisson made an addition to our geographical knowledge. Well to the north of the mainland, and bearing a little north of east, he could trace the outline of land. Subsequently this was proved to be an island, thirty-two miles distant, and seventeen miles north of the mainland. It was twenty miles long and fifteen miles wide, being entirely ice-covered. Later on, it was charted as Masson Island.

On the 28th, the hut was fit for habitation, the stove was installed, and meals were cooked and eaten in moderate comfort. The interior of the house was twenty feet square, but its area was reduced by a lobby entrance, three feet by five feet, a dark-room three feet by six feet situated on one side, and my cabin six feet six inches square in one corner. The others slept in seven bunks which were ranged at intervals round the walls. Of the remaining space, a large portion was commodiously occupied by the stove and table.

On three sides, the roof projected five feet beyond the walls and formed a veranda which was boarded up, making an excellent store-room and work-room. This was a splendid idea of Dr. Mawson's, enabling us to work during the severest storms when there was no room in the hut, and incidentally supplying extra insulation and rendering the inside much warmer. The main walls and roof were double and covered with weather-proof felt. Daylight was admitted through four plate-glass skylights in the roof.

A blizzard effectually prevented outdoor work on February 29, and all hands were employed in the hut, lining the roof and walls and fixing shelves for cooking and other utensils.

An attack was made on the transport of stores next day. As a result of twelve hours' work, five and a half tons of coal were dragged up and stowed under the veranda. It was Hoadley's birthday, and the cook made a special feature of the dinner. With extra dainties like figs, cake and a bottle of wine, we felt that the occasion was fitly celebrated. On March 2, more stores were amassed round the house; Hoadley, Harrisson and I doing odd jobs inside, opening cans, sorting out stores, fitting bunks, shelves and the acetylene gas plant.

While undoing some packages of small boards, Hoadley found that a space had been arranged in the centre of one of the bundles, and a box of cigars inserted by some of the men originally employed upon the construction of the hut in Melbourne. Enclosed was a letter of hearty good wishes.

During the afternoon, Dovers and Kennedy lowered a small sledge down to the floe and brought up a seal and three Adelie penguins. These served for a while as fresh food for ourselves and the dogs.

Sunday March 3 was the finest day we had up till then experienced, and, since the work was now sufficiently advanced to make us comparatively comfortable and safe, I determined to make a proper Sunday of it. All hands were called at 8.30 A.M. instead of 6 A.M. After breakfast a few necessary jobs were done and at noon a short service was held. When lunch was over, the skis were unpacked, and all went for a run to the east in the direction of Masson Island.

The glacier's surface was excellent for travelling, but I soon found that it would be dangerous to walk about alone without skis, as there were a number of crevasses near the hut, some of considerable size; I opened one twenty-five feet wide. They were all well bridged and would support a man on skis quite easily.

A heavy gale, with falling snow and blinding drift, came on early the next day and continued for forty-eight hours; our worst blizzard up to that time. The temperature, below zero before the storm, rose with the wind to 30 degrees F. Inside, all were employed preparing for a sledging trip I intended to make to the mainland before the winter set in. We were greatly handicapped by the want of a sewing machine.** When unpacked, the one which had been brought was found to be without shuttles, spools and needles. Large canvas bags, made to contain two weeks' provisions for a sledging unit of three men, were in the equipment, but the smaller bags of calico for the different articles of food had to be sewn by hand. Several hundred of these were required, and altogether the time consumed in making them was considerable.

** By accident the small sewing machine belonging to Wild's party was landed at the Main Base—ED.

Emerging on the morning of the 6th. after the blizzard had blown itself out, we found that snow-drifts to a depth of twelve feet had collected around the hut. For entrance and exit, a shaft had to be dug and a ladder made. The stores, stacked in heaps close by, were completely covered, and another blizzard swooping down on the 7th made things still worse. This "blow," persisting till the morning of the 9th, was very heavy, the wind frequently attaining velocities judged to reach ninety miles per hour, accompanied by drift so thick that it was impossible to go outside for anything.

Beyond the erection of the wireless masts, everything was now ready for the sledging journey. On the day when the wind abated, a party set to work digging holes for the masts and stay-posts. The former were to be fifty-two feet high, four and a half feet being buried in the ice. Unfortunately, a strong breeze with thick drift sprang up just as hoisting operations had started, and in a few minutes the holes were filled up and the workers had to run for shelter. Meanwhile, four men had succeeded in rescuing all the buried stores, some being stowed alongside the hut, and the remainder stacked up again on a new level.

On came another severe blizzard, which continued with only a few minutes' interval until the evening of the 12th. During the short lull, Jones, Dovers and Hoadley took a sledge for a load of ice from a pressure-ridge rather less than two hundred yards from the hut. While they were absent, the wind freshened again, and they had great difficulty in finding a way to the entrance.

It was very disappointing to be delayed in this manner, but there was consolation in the fact that we were better off in the hut than on the glacier, and that there was plenty of work inside. The interior was thus put in order much earlier than it would otherwise have been.

In erecting the hut, it was found that a case of nuts and bolts was missing, and many places in the frame had in consequence to be secured with nails. For a while I was rather doubtful how the building would stand a really heavy blow. There was, however, no need for uneasiness, as the first two blizzards drifted snow to such a depth in our immediate vicinity that, even with the wind at hurricane force, there was scarcely a tremor in the building.

The morning of Wednesday March 13 was calm and overcast. Breakfast was served at six o'clock. We then set to work and cleared away the snow from the masts and stay-posts, so that by 8.30 A.M. both masts were in position. Before the job was over, a singular sight was witnessed. A large section of the glacier—many thousands of tons—calved off into the sea. The tremendous waves raised by the fall of this mass smashed into fragments all the floe left in the bay. With the sea-ice went the snow-slopes which were the natural roadway down. A perpendicular cliff, sixty to one hundred feet above the water, was all that remained, and our opportunities of obtaining seals and penguins in the future were cut off. Of course, too, the old landing-place no longer existed.

The whole of the sledging provisions and gear were brought out, weighed and packed on the sledges; the total weight being one thousand two hundred and thirty-three pounds. Dovers, Harrisson, Hoadley, Jones, Moyes and myself were to constitute the party.

It was necessary for two men to remain behind at the base to keep the meteorological records, to wind chronometers, to feed the dogs and to bring up the remainder of the stores from the edge of the ice-cliff. Kennedy, the magnetician, had to stay, as two term days** were due in the next month. It was essential that we should have a medical man with us, so Jones was included in the sledging party; the others drawing lots to decide who should remain with Kennedy. The unlucky one was Watson.

** Days set apart by previous arrangement for magnetic "quick runs."

To the south of the Base, seventeen miles distant at the nearest point, the mainland was visible, entirely ice-clad, running almost due east and west. It appeared to rise rapidly to about three thousand feet, and then to ascend more gradually as the great plateau of the Antarctic continent. It was my intention to travel inland beyond the lower ice-falls, which extended in an irregular line of riven bluffs all along the coast, and then to lay a depot or depots which might be useful on the next season's journeys. Another reason for making the journey was to give the party some experience in sledging work. The combined weight of both sledges and effects was one thousand two hundred and thirty-three pounds, and the total amount of food carried was four hundred and sixty pounds.

While the sledges were being loaded, ten skua gulls paid us a visit, and, as roast skua is a very pleasant change of food, Jones shot six of them.

At 1 P.M. we left the hut, making an east-south-east course to clear a pressure-ridge; altering the course once more to south-east. The coast in this direction looked accessible, whereas a line running due south would have brought us to some unpromising ice-falls by a shorter route.

The surface was very good and almost free from crevasses; only one, into which Jones fell to his middle, being seen during the afternoon's march. Not wishing to do too much the first day, especially after the "soft" days we had been forced to spend in the hut during the spell of bad weather, I made two short halts in the afternoon and camped at 5 P.M., having done seven and half miles.

On the 11th we rose at 5 A.M., and at 7 A.M. we were on the march. For the two hours after starting, the surface was tolerable and then changed for the worse; the remainder of the day's work being principally over a hard crust, which was just too brittle to bear the weight of a man, letting him through to a soft substratum, six or eight inches deep in the snow. Only those who have travelled in country like this can properly realize how wearisome it is.

At 9 A.M. the course was altered to south, as there appeared to be a fairly good track up the hills. The surface of the glacier rose and fell in long undulations which became wider and more marked as the land approached. By the time we camped, they were three-quarters of a mile from crest to crest, with a drop of thirty feet from crest to trough. Despite the heavy trudging we covered more than thirteen miles.

I made the marching hours 7 A.M. to 5 P.M., so that there was time to get the evening meal before darkness set in; soon after 6 P.M.

The march commenced about seven o'clock on March 15, the thermometer registering -8 degrees F., while a light southerly breeze made it feel much colder. The exercise soon warmed us up and, when the breeze died away, the remainder of the day was perfectly calm.

A surface of "pie-crust" cut down the mileage in the forenoon. At 11 A.M. we encountered many crevasses, from two to five feet wide, with clean-cut sides and shaky bridges. Hoadley went down to his head in one, and we all got our legs in others.

It became evident after lunch that the land was nearing rapidly, its lower slopes obscuring the higher land behind. The crevasses also became wider, so I lengthened the harness with an alpine rope to allow more room and to prevent more than two men from being over a chasm at the same time. At 4 P.M. we were confronted with one sixty feet wide. Crevasses over thirty feet in width usually have very solid bridges and may be considered safe, but this one had badly broken edges and one hundred yards on the right the lid had collapsed. So instead of marching steadily across, we went over singly on the alpine rope and hauled the sledges along in their turn, when all had crossed in safety. Immediately after passing this obstacle the grade became steeper, and, between three and five o'clock, we rose two hundred feet, traversing several large patches of neve.

That night the tent stood on a field of snow covering the lower slopes of the hills. On either hand were magnificent examples of ice-falls, but ahead the way seemed open.

With the exception of a preliminary stiffness, every one felt well after the toil of the first few days.

In bright sunlight next morning all went to examine the ice-falls to the east, which were two miles away. Roping up, we made an ascent half-way to the top which rose five hundred feet and commanded a grand panorama of glacier and coast. Soon the wind freshened and drift began to fly. When we regained the tents a gale was blowing, with heavy drift, so there was nothing to do but make ourselves as comfortable as possible inside.

All through Saturday night the gale raged and up till 11.30 A.M. on Sunday March 16. On turning out, we found that the tents and sledges were covered deeply in snow, and we dug continuously for more than two hours before we were able to pack up and get away. Both sledges ran easily for nearly a mile over neve, when the gradient increased to one in ten, forcing us to relay. It was found necessary to change our finnesko for spiked boots. Relaying regularly, we gradually mounted six hundred feet over neve and massive sastrugi. With a steep slope in front, a halt was made for the night. The sunset was a picture of prismatic colours reflected over the undulating ice-sheet and the tumbling cascades of the glacier.

On the evening of March 18 the altitude of our camp was one thousand four hundred and ten feet, and the slope was covered with sastrugi ridges, three to four feet in height. Travelling over these on the following day we had frequent capsizes.

The outlook to the south was a series of irregular terraces, varying from half a mile to two miles in breadth and twenty to two hundred feet in height. These were furrowed by small valleys and traversed by ridges, but there was not a sign of rock anywhere.

The temperature varied from 4 degrees to 14 degrees F. during the day, and the minimum recorded at night was -11 degrees F.

Another nine miles of slow ascent brought us to two thousand feet, followed by a rise of two hundred and twenty feet in seven and three-quarter miles on March 21. Hauling over high broken sastrugi was laborious enough to make every one glad when the day was over. The rations were found sufficient, but the plasmon biscuits were so hard that they had to be broken with a geological hammer.

There now swept down on us a blizzard** which lasted for a whole week, on the evening of March 21. According to my diary, the record is as follows:

"Friday, March 22. Snowing heavily all day, easterly wind: impossible to travel as nothing can be seen more than ten to twelve yards away. Temperature high, 7 degrees to 18 degrees F.

** It is a singular fact that this blizzard occurred on the same date as that during which Captain Scott and his party lost their lives.

"Saturday, March 23. Blowing hard at turn-out time, so did not breakfast until 8.30. Dovers is cook in my tent this week. He got his clothes filled up with snow while bringing in the cooker, food-bag, etc. The wind increased to a fierce gale during the day, and all the loose snow which fell yesterday was shifted.

"About 5 P.M. the snow was partially blown away from the skirt or ground cloth, and the tent bulged in a good deal. I got into burberries and went out to secure it; it was useless to shovel on snow as it was blown off immediately. I therefore dragged the food-bags off the sledge and dumped them on. The wind and drift were so strong that I had several times to get in the lee of the tent to recover my breath and to clear the mask of snow from my face.

"We are now rather crowded through the tent bulging in so much, and having cooker and food-bag inside.

"Sunday, March 24. Had a very bad night. The wind was chopping about from south-east to north and blowing a hurricane. One side of the tent was pressed in past the centre, and I had to turn out and support it with bag lashings. Then the ventilator was blown in and we had a pile of snow two feet high over the sleeping-bags; this kept us warm, but it was impossible to prevent some of it getting into the bags, and now we are very wet and the bags like sponges. There were quite two hundredweights of snow on us; all of which came through a hole three inches wide.

"According to report from the other tent they are worse off than we are; they say they have four feet of snow in the tent. All this is due to the change of wind, making the ventilator to windward instead of leeward.

"March 25, 26 and 27. Blizzard still continues, less wind but more snowfall.

"Thursday, March 28. Heavy falling snow and drift, south-east wind. At noon, the wind eased down and snow ceased falling, so we slipped into our burberry over-suits and climbed out to dig for the sledges.

"Nothing could be seen except about two feet of the tops of the tents, which meant that there was a deposit of five feet of freshly fallen snow. The upper two feet was soft and powdery, offering no resistance; under that it was still soft, so that we sank to our thighs every step and frequently to the waist. By 4.30 P.M. both sledges were rescued, and it was ascertained that no gear had been lost. We all found that the week of idleness and confinement had weakened us, and at first were only able to take short spells at the digging. The sky and barometer promise fine weather to-morrow, but what awful work it will be pulling!"

At 5.30 A.M. on March 29 the weather was bright and calm. As a strong wind had blown throughout the night, a harder surface was expected. Outside, we were surprised to find a fresh wind and thick, low drift; owing to the tents being snowed up so high, the threshing of the drift was not audible. To my disgust the surface was as soft as ever. It appeared that the only resort was to leave the provisions for the depot on the nearest ridge and return to the Base. The temperature was -20 degrees F., and, while digging out the tents, Dovers had his nose frost-bitten.

It took six of us well over an hour to drag the necessary food half a mile up a rise of less than one hundred feet; the load, sledge included, not being five hundred pounds. Nearly all the time we were sinking thigh-deep, and the sledge itself was going down so far that the instrument-box was pushing a mass of snow in front of it. Arriving on the ridge, Moyes found that his foot was frozen and he had to go back to camp, as there was too much wind to bring it round in the open.

Sufficient food and oil were left at this depot for three men for six weeks; also a minimum thermometer.

In a fresh breeze and flying drift we were off at 10 A.M. next day. At first we were ambitious and moved away with two sledges, sinking from two to three feet all the time. Forty yards was as much as we could do without a rest, and by lunch time nine hundred yards was the total. Now the course was downhill, and the two sledges were pulled together, creeping along with painful slowness, as walking was the hardest work imaginable. After one of the most strenuous days I have ever experienced, we camped; the sledge-meter recorded one mile four hundred and fifty yards.

A spell of two days' blizzard cooped us up once more, but improved the surface slightly. Still, it was dreadfully soft, and, but for the falling gradient, we would not have made what we did; five miles six hundred and ten yards, on April 2. On that and the following day it was fortunate that the road chosen was free of crevasses.

At the foot of the hills I had decided to reduce the rations but, as the track had grown firm once more, and we were only twenty-five miles from the hut, with a week's food, I thought it would be safe to use the full allowance.

Soon after leaving the hills (April 4), a direct course to the hut was made. There was no mark by which to steer, except a "water-sky" to the north, the hinterland being clouded over. During the afternoon, the sun occasionally gleamed through a tract of cirro-stratus cloud and there was a very fine parhelion: signs of an approaching blizzard. At 4.30 P.M. we had done seventeen and a half miles, and, as all hands were fresh and willing, I decided to have a meal and go on again, considering that the moon was full and there were only six miles to be done.

After supper the march was continued till 8.30 P.M., by which time we were due for a rest. I had begun to think that we had passed the hut.

April 5 was far from being a Good Friday for us. At 2 A.M. a fresh breeze rose and rapidly increased to a heavy gale. At 10 A.M. Hoadley and I had to go out to secure the tent; the weather-side bulged in more than half the width of the tent and was held by a solid load of drift, but the other sides were flapping so much that almost all the snow had been shaken off the skirt. Though only five yards away from it we could not see the other tent. At noon Hoadley again went out to attend to the tent and entirely lost himself within six feet of it. He immediately started to yell and I guessed what was the matter at once. Dovers and I shouted our best, and Hoadley groped his way in with a mask of snow over his face. He told us that the wind which was then blowing a good eighty miles an hour, knocked him down immediately he was outside, and, when he struggled to his feet again, he could see nothing and had no idea in what direction lay the tent.

The space inside was now so limited by the combined pressure of wind and snow that we did not light the primus, eating lumps of frozen pemmican for the evening meal.

The blizzard continued with unabated violence until eleven o'clock next morning, when it moderated within an hour to half a gale. We turned out and had a good hot meal. Then we looked to see how the others had fared and found that their tent had collapsed. Getting at once into wind-proof clothing, we rushed out and were horrified to see Harrisson in his bag on the snow. He quickly assured us that he was all right. After carrying him, bag and all, into our tent, he emerged quite undamaged, but very hungry.

Jones and Moyes now had to be rescued; they were in a most uncomfortable position under the fallen tent. It appears that the tent had blown down on the previous morning at ten o'clock, and for thirty-six hours they had had nothing to eat. We did not take long to dig them out.

The wind dropped to a moderate breeze, and, through the falling snow, I could make out a "water-sky" to the west. The three unfortunates said that they felt fit to travel, so we got under way. The surface was soft and the pulling very heavy, and I soon saw that the strain was largely due to the weakness of the three who had been without food. Calling a halt, I asked Jones if it would do to go on; he assured me that they could manage to go on with an effort, and the march was resumed.

Not long after, Dovers sighted the wireless mast, and a quarter of an hour later we were safely in the hut, much to the surprise of Kennedy and Watson, who did not expect us to be travelling in such weather, and greatly to our own relief. According to the sledge-meter, the last camp had only been two miles one hundred yards from home, and if anything had been visible on the night of April 4, we could have got in easily.

I was very pleased with the way all the party had shaped. They had worked splendidly and were always cheerful, although conditions had been exceptionally trying during this journey. No one was any the worse for the hardships, except for a few blistered fingers from frost-bites. The party lost weight at the average of two and a half pounds; Harrisson was the greatest loser, being reduced six pounds. Out of the twenty-five days we were away, it was only possible to sledge on twelve days. The total distance covered, including relay work, was nearly one hundred and twenty-two miles, and the greatest elevation reached on the southern mainland was two thousand six hundred feet above sea-level.

Kennedy and Watson had been very busy during our absence. In a few days they had trained five of the dogs to pull in harness, and transported the remainder of the stores from the landing-place, arranging them in piles round the hut. The weather at the Base had been quite as bad as that experienced by us on the land slopes.

In the first blizzard both wireless masts were broken down. Watson and Kennedy managed to repair and re-erect one of the masts, but it was only thirty-seven feet in height. Any final hopes of hearing wireless signals were dispelled by the discovery that the case containing the detector and several other parts necessary for a receiving-station were missing.

Watson had fitted up a splendid dark-room, as well as plenty of shelves and racks for cooking utensils.

Kennedy was able to secure a series of observations on one of his term days, but, before the next one, the tent he was using was blown to ribbons.



CHAPTER XX THE WESTERN BASE—WINTER AND SPRING

On Easter Sunday, April 7, 1912, a furious blizzard kept us close prisoners. To meet the occasion, Dovers prepared a special dinner, the principal item being roast mutton, from one of the six carcases landed with the stores. Divine service was held in the forenoon.

The blizzard raged with such force all Sunday and Monday that I dared not let any one go out to feed the dogs, although we found, later, that a fast of three days did not hurt them at all.

I now thought it time to establish a winter routine. Each member had his particular duties to perform, in addition to general work, in which all hands were engaged. Harrisson took charge of the lamps and checked consumption of oil. Hoadley had the care of the provisions, making out lists showing the amount the cook might use of each article of food, besides opening cases and stowing a good assortment on convenient shelves in the veranda. Jones and Kennedy worked the acetylene plant. In connexion with this, I should mention that several parts were missing, including T-pieces for joints and connexions for burners. However Jones, in addition to his ability as a surgeon, showed himself to be an excellent plumber, brazier and tinsmith, and the Hut was well lighted all the time we occupied it. Moyes's duties as meteorologist took him out at all hours. Watson looked after the dogs, while Dovers relieved other members when they were cooks. The duty of cook was taken for a week at a time by every one except myself. A night watch was kept by each in turn. The watchman went on duty at 9 P.M., usually taking advantage of this night to have a bath and wash his clothes. He prepared breakfast, calling all hands at 8.30 A.M. for this meal at nine o'clock. The cook for the week was exempt from all other work. In the case of Kennedy, whose magnetic work was done principally at night, arrangements were made to assist him with the cooking.

Work commenced during the winter months at ten o'clock and, unless anything special had to be done, finished at 1 P.M., when lunch was served. The afternoon was usually devoted to sport and recreation.

The frequent blizzards and heavy snowfall had by this time buried the Hut so deeply that only the top of the pointed roof was visible and all the outside stores were covered.

My diary for April 9 says:

"The blizzard" (which had commenced on the evening of the 6th) "played itself out during the night and we got to work immediately after breakfast. There was still a fresh breeze and low drift, but this gradually died away.

"We were an hour digging an exit from the Hut. The day has been occupied in cutting a tunnel entrance, forty feet long, through the drift, so that driving snow cannot penetrate, and we shall be able to get out with less trouble.

"As we get time I intend to excavate caverns in the huge drifts packed round the house and stow all our stores inside; also a good supply of ice for use during blizzards.

"I had intended to make a trip to Masson Island before the winter properly set in, but with the weather behaving as it does, I don't think it would be wise."

The 10th, 11th and 12th being fine, good progress was made in digging out store-rooms on either side of the tunnel, but a blizzard on the 13th and 14th stopped us again.

On going to feed the dogs during the afternoon of the 14th, Watson found that Nansen was dead; this left us with seven, as Crippen had already died. Of the remainder, only four were of any value; Sweep and the two bitches, Tiger and Tich, refusing to do anything in harness, and, as there was less than sufficient food for them, the two latter had to be shot. Sweep would have shared the same fate but he disappeared, probably falling down a crevasse or over the edge of the glacier.

Until the end of April almost all our time was spent in making store-rooms and in searching for buried stores; sometimes a shaft would have to be sunk eight to twelve feet. Bamboo poles stuck in the snow marked the positions of the different stacks. The one marking the carbide was blown away, and it was two days before Dovers finally unearthed it. By the 30th, caves roomy enough to contain everything were completed, all being connected by the tunnel. We were now self-contained, and everything was accessible and immune from the periodic blizzards.

The entrance, by the way, was a trap-door built over the tunnel and raised well above the outside surface to prevent it being drifted over. From below it was approached by a ladder, but the end of the tunnel was left open, so that in fine weather we could run sledges in and out with loads of ice. With each blizzard the entrance was completely choked, and it gave two men a day's work to clear it out once more.

On April 16 Kennedy had a term day. A fresh breeze was blowing and the temperature was -20 degrees F. Some of his observations had to be taken in the open and the remainder in a tent. The series took three hours to complete and by that time he was thoroughly chilled through, his feet and fingers were frost-bitten and his language had grown more incisive than usual.

Between the 10th and the 19th we made a search for penguins and seals. Hoadley and Moyes staying behind, the rest of us with tents and equipment journeyed along the edge of the glacier to the south, without seeing the smallest sign of life. The edge of the shelf-ice was very much fissured, many of the breaches giving no sign of their presence, in consequence of which several falls were sustained. It should be remarked that the Shackleton Shelf-Ice runs mainly in a southerly direction from the Winter Quarters, joining the mainland at a point, afterwards named Junction Corner. The map of Queen Mary Land illustrates this at a glance.

From the 25th to the 29th, Kennedy, Harrisson and Jones were employed building an igloo to be used as a magnetic observatory. On the afternoon of the 30th, the magnetician invited every one to a tea-party in the igloo to celebrate the opening. He had the place very nicely decorated with flags, and after the reception and the formal inspection of the instruments, we were served with quite a good tea. The outside temperature was -33 degrees F. and it was not much higher inside the igloo. As a result, no one extended his visit beyond the bounds of politeness.

On May 1, Harrisson, Hoadley and Watson went away south towards the land at the head of the bay, which curved round to Junction Corner, to examine icebergs, take photographs and to search for seals. They took the four dogs with them and, as the load was a light one—three hundred and forty-two pounds—the dogs pulled it easily.

I went with the others to the north, hoping that we might find a portion of the glacier low enough to give access to the sea-ice. There were several spots where the ice-cliffs were not more than forty to fifty feet high, but no convenient ramps led down from the cliffs. In any case neither penguins nor seals were to be had in the vicinity. A great, flat sheet of frozen sea stretched away to the north for quite thirty miles.

May 2 was fine, but the 3rd and 4th were windy once more and we had to remain indoors. Saturday, the 4th, was clean-up day, when the verandas, tunnel and cave were swept and tidied, the stove cleaned, the hut and darkroom scrubbed and the windows cleared. The last was a job which was generally detested. During the week, the windows in the roof collected a coat of ice, from an inch to three inches thick, by condensation of moisture. Chipping this off was a most tedious piece of work, while in the process one's clothes became filled with ice.

One Sunday, Harrisson, Hoadley and Watson returned from their short trip; they had missed the strong winds which had been blowing at the Base, although less than twenty miles away. Some very fine old icebergs were discovered which were of interest to the two geologists and made good subjects for Harrisson's sketches. Watson had had a nasty fall while crossing a patch of rough ice, his nose being rather badly cut in the accident.

On May 7 another blizzard stopped all outside work. Moyes ventured as far as the meteorological screen at noon and got lost, but luckily only for a short time. The barometer behaved very strangely during the blow, rising abruptly during a little more than an hour, and then slowly falling once more. For a few hours on the 8th there was a lull and the store of ice was replenished, but the 9th and 10th were again spent indoors, repairing and refitting tents, poles and other sledging gear during the working hours, and reading or playing chess and bridge in the leisure time. Harrisson carved an excellent set of chessmen, distinguishing the "black" ones by a stain of permanganate of potash.

Bridge was the favourite game all through the winter, and a continuous record of the scores was kept. Two medals were struck: a neat little thing for the highest scorer and a huge affair as large as a plate, slung on a piece of three-and-a-half-inch rope, with "Jonah" inscribed on it, to be worn by the player at the foot of the list.

Divine service was held every Sunday, Moyes and I taking it in turn. There was only one hymn book amongst the party, which made it necessary to write out copies of the hymns each week.

The sleeping-bags used on the first sledging journey had been hung up near the roof. They were now taken down to be thoroughly overhauled. As a consequence of their severe soaking, they had shrunk considerably and required enlarging. Dovers's bag, besides contracting a good deal, had lost much hair and was cut up to patch the others. He received a spare one to replace it.

May 15 was a beautiful bright morning and I went over to an icy cape two miles southward, with Harrisson, Hoadley, Dovers and Watson, to find a road down to the sea-ice. Here, we had good fortune at last, for, by following down a crevasse which opened out at sea-level into a magnificent cave, we walked straight out on to the level plain. Along the edge of the glacier there was not even a seal's blow-hole. Watson took some photos of the cave and cliff.

It was Kennedy's term night; the work keeping him in the igloo from 10 P.M. until 2.30 A.M. He had had some difficulty in finding a means of warming the observatory—an urgent necessity, since he found it impossible to manipulate delicate magnetic instruments for three or four hours with the temperature from -25 degrees F. to -30 degrees F. The trouble was to make a non-magnetic lamp and the problem was finally solved by using one of the aluminium cooking pots; converting it into a blubber stove. The stove smoked a great deal and the white walls were soon besmirched with a layer of soot.

The 17th, 18th and 19th were all calm but dull. One day I laid out a ten-hole golf course and with some homemade balls and hockey sticks for clubs played a game, not devoid of interest and excitement.

During a blizzard which descended on the evening of the 20th, Zip and Sweep disappeared and on the 21st, a search on the glacier having been in vain, Dovers and Hoadley made their way down to the floe. They found Zip well and hearty in spite of having had a drop of at least forty feet off the glacier. A further search for Sweep proved fruitless. We were forced to conclude that he was either killed by falling over the precipice or he had gone far away hunting for penguins.

The regular blizzard immured us on May 22, 23 and 24; the wind at times of terrific force, approaching one hundred miles per hour. It was impossible to secure meteorological observations or to feed the dogs until noon on the 24th. Moyes and I went out during a slight cessation and, with the aid of a rope from the trap-door, managed to find the dogs, and gave them some biscuits. The drift was then so thick that six feet was as far as one could see.

We did not forget Empire Day and duly "spliced the mainbrace." The most bigoted teetotaller could not call us an intemperate party. On each Saturday night, one drink per man was served out, the popular toast being "Sweethearts and Wives." The only other convivial meetings of our small symposium were on the birthdays of each member, Midwinter's Day and King's Birthday.

On the 25th we were able to make an inventory of a whole series of damages effected outside. The dogs' shelter had entirely carried away; a short mast which had been erected some weeks previously as a holdfast for sledges was snapped off short and the sledges buried, and, worst of all, Kennedy's igloo had parted with its roof, the interior being filled with snow, underneath which the instruments were buried. The dogs were, however, all quite well and lively. It was fortunate for them that the temperature always rose during the blizzards. At this period, when on fine days it was usual to experience -25 degrees to-37 degrees F., the temperature rose in the snowstorms to 25 degrees or even 30 degrees F.

Monday the 27th was beautifully clear. The tunnel entrance was opened and some of the party brought in ice while others undid the rope lashings which had been placed over the hut. This was so compactly covered in snow that the lashings were not required and I wanted to make a rope ladder to enable us to get down to the sea-ice and also to be used by Watson and Hoadley, who were about to dig a shaft in the glacier to examine the structure of the ice.

Fine weather continued until June 2. During this time we were occupied in digging a road from the glacier down to the sea-ice in the forenoons and hunting for seals or skiing in the afternoons. Kennedy and Harrisson rebuilt the magnetic igloo. A seal-hole was eventually found near the foot of the glacier and this was enlarged to enable the seals to come up.

At the end of May, daylight lasted from 9 A.M. until 3 P.M., and the sunrise and sunset were a marvel of exquisite colour. The nightly displays of aurora australis were not very brilliant as the moon was nearing the full.

On the days of blizzards, there was usually sufficient work to be found to keep us all employed. Thus on June 2, Watson and I were making a ladder, Jones was contriving a harpoon for seals, Hoadley was opening cases and stowing stores in the veranda, Dovers cleaning tools, Moyes repairing a thermograph and writing up the meteorological log, Harrisson cooking and Kennedy sleeping after a night-watch.

Between June 4 and 22 there was a remarkably fine spell. It was not calm all the time, as drift flew for a few days, limiting the horizon to a few hundred yards. An igloo was built as a shelter for those sinking the geological shaft, and seal-hunting was a daily recreation. On June 9, Dovers and Watson found a Weddell seal two and a half miles to the west on the sea-ice. They killed the animal but did not cut it up as there were sores on the skin. Jones went over with them afterwards and pronounced the sores to be wounds received from some other animal, so the meat was considered innocuous and fifty pounds were brought in, being very welcome after tinned foods. Jones took culture tubes with him and made smears for bacteria. The tubes were placed in an incubator and several kinds of organisms grew, very similar to those which infect wounds in ordinary climates.

The snowstorms had by this time built up huge drifts under the lee of the ice-cliffs, some of them more than fifty feet in height and reaching almost to the top of the ice-shelf. An exhilarating sport was to ski down these ramps. The majority of them were very steep and irregular and it was seldom that any of us escaped without a fall at one time or another. Several of the party were thrown from thirty to forty feet, and, frequently enough, over twenty feet, without being hurt. The only accident serious enough to disable any one happened to Kennedy on June 19, when he twisted his knee and was laid up for a week.

There were many fine displays of the aurora in June, the best being observed on the evening of the 18th. Curtains and streamers were showing from four o'clock in the afternoon. Shortly after midnight, Kennedy, who was taking magnetic observations, called me to see the most remarkable exhibition I have so far seen. There was a double curtain 30 degrees wide unfolded from the eastern horizon through the zenith, with waves shimmering along it so rapidly that they travelled the whole length of the curtain in two seconds. The colouring was brilliant and evanescent. When the waves reached the end of the curtain they spread out to the north and rolled in a voluminous billow slowly back to the east. Kennedy's instruments showed that a very great magnetic disturbance was in progress during the auroral displays, and particularly on this occasion.

Hoadley and Watson set up a line of bamboos, a quarter of a mile apart and three miles long, on the 20th, and from thence onwards took measurements for snowfall every fortnight.

On Midwinter's Day the temperature ranged from -38 degrees F. to -25 degrees F. and daylight lasted from 10 A.M. until 4 P.M. We proclaimed a universal holiday throughout Queen Mary Land. Being Saturday, there were a few necessary jobs to be done, but all were finished by 11 A.M. The morning was fine and several of us went down to the floe for skiing, but after twelve o'clock the sky became overcast and the light was dimmed. A strong breeze brought along a trail of drift, and at 6 P.M. a heavy blizzard was in full career. Inside, the hut was decorated with flags and a savoury dinner was in the throes of preparation. To make the repast still more appetising, Harrisson, Hoadley and Dovers devised some very pretty and clever menus. Speeches, toasts and a gramophone concert made the evening pass quickly and enjoyably.

From this time dated our preparations for spring sledging, which I hoped would commence about August 15. Jones made some experiments with "glaxo," of which we had a generous supply. His aim was to make biscuits which would be suitable for sledging, and, after several failures, he succeeded in compressing with a steel die a firm biscuit of glaxo and butter mixed, three ounces of which was the equivalent in theoretical food value to four and a half ounces of plasmon biscuit; thereby affording a pleasant variety in the usual ration.

July came in quietly, though it was dull and cloudy, and we were able to get out on the first two days for work and exercise. On the 2nd a very fine effect was caused by the sun shining through myriads of fog-crystals which a light northerly breeze had brought down from the sea. The sun, which was barely clear of the horizon, was itself a deep red, on either side and above it was a red mock sun and a rainbow-tinted halo connected the three mock suns.

On the 5th and 6th the wind blew a terrific hurricane (judged to reach a velocity of one hundred miles per hour) and, had we not known that nothing short of an earthquake could move the hut, we should have been very uneasy.

All were now busy making food-bags, opening and breaking up pemmican and emergency rations, grinding biscuits, attending to personal gear and doing odd jobs many and various.

In addition to recreations like chess, cards and dominoes, a competition was started for each member to write a poem and short article, humorous or otherwise, connected with the Expedition. These were all read by the authors after dinner one evening and caused considerable amusement. One man even preferred to sing his poem. These literary efforts were incorporated in a small publication known as "The Glacier Tongue."

Watson and Hoadley put in a good deal of time digging their shaft in the glacier. As a roofed shelter had been built over the top, they were able to work in all but the very worst weather. While the rest of us were fitting sledges on the 17th and 18th, they succeeded in getting down to a level of twenty-one feet below the surface of the shelf-ice.

Sandow, the leader of the dogs, disappeared on the 18th. Zip, who had been missed for two days, returned, but Sandow never came back, being killed, doubtless, by a fall of snow from the cliffs. All along the edge of the ice-shelf were snow cornices, some weighing hundreds of tons; and these often broke away, collapsing with a thunderous sound. On July 31, Harrisson and Watson had a narrow escape. After finishing their day's work, they climbed down to the floe by a huge cornice and sloping ramp. A few seconds later, the cornice fell and an immense mass of hard snow crashed down, cracking the sea-ice for more than a hundred yards around.

July had been an inclement month with three really fine and eight tolerable days. In comparison with June's, which was -14.5 degrees F., the mean temperature of July was high at -1.5 degrees F. and the early half of August was little better.

Sunday August 11 was rather an eventful day. Dovers and I went out in the wind to attend to the dogs and clear the chimney and, upon our return, found the others just recovering from rather an exciting accident. Jones had been charging the acetylene generators and by some means one of them caught fire. For a while there was the danger of a general conflagration and explosion, as the gas-tank was floating in kerosene. Throwing water over everything would have made matters worse, so blankets were used to smother the flames. As this failed to extinguish them, the whole plant was pulled down and carried into the tunnel, where the fire was at last put out. The damage amounted to two blankets singed and dirtied, Jones's face scorched and hair singed, and Kennedy, one finger jammed. It was a fortunate escape from a calamity.

A large capsized berg had been noticed for some time, eleven miles to the north. On the 14th, Harrisson, Dovers, Hoadley and Watson took three days' provisions and equipment and went off to examine it. A brief account is extracted from Harrisson's diary:

"It was a particularly fine, mild morning; we made good progress, three dogs dragging the loaded sledge over the smooth floe without difficulty, requiring assistance only when crossing banks of soft snow. One and a half miles from 'The Steps,' we saw the footprints of a penguin.

"Following the cliffs of the shelf-ice for six and three quarter miles, we sighted a Weddell seal sleeping on a drift of snow. Killing the animal, cutting off the meat and burying it in the drift delayed us for about one hour. Continuing our journey under a fine bluff, over floe-ice much cracked by tide-pressure, we crossed a small bay cutting wedge-like into the glacier and camped on its far side.

"After our midday meal we walked to the berg three miles away. When seen on June 28, this berg was tilted to the north-east, but the opposite end, apparently in contact with the ice-cliffs, had lifted higher than the glacier-shelf itself. From a distance it could be seen that the sides, for half their height, were wave-worn and smooth. Three or four acres of environing floe were buckled, ploughed up and in places heaped twenty feet high, while several large fragments of the broken floe were poised aloft on the old 'water-line' of the berg.

"However, on this visit, we found that the berg had turned completely over towards the cliffs and was now floating on its side surrounded by large separate chunks; all locked fast in the floe. In what had been the bottom of the berg Hoadley and Watson made an interesting find of stones and pebbles—the first found in this dead land!

"Leaving them collecting, I climbed the pitted wave-worn ice, brittle and badly cracked on the higher part. The highest point was fifty feet above the level of the top of the shelf-ice. There was no sign of open water to the north, but a few seals were observed sleeping under the cliffs."

Next morning the weather thickened and the wind arose, so a start was made for the Base. All that day the party groped along in the comparative shelter of the cliff-face until forced to camp. It was not till the next afternoon in moderate drift that a pair of skis which had been left at the foot of 'The Steps' were located and the hut reached once again.

After lunch on August 11, while we were excavating some buried kerosene, Jones sighted a group of seven Emperor penguins two miles away over the western floe. Taking a sledge and camera we made after them. A mile off, they saw us and advanced with their usual stately bows. It seemed an awful shame to kill them, but we were sorely in need of fresh meat. The four we secured averaged seventy pounds in weight and were a heavy load up the steep rise to the glacier; but our reward came at dinner-time.

With several fine days to give us confidence, everything was made ready for the sledge journey on August 20. The party was to consist of six men and three dogs, the object of the journey being to lay out a food-depot to the east in view of the long summer journey we were to make in that direction. Hoadley and Kennedy were to remain at the Base, the former to finish the geological shaft and the latter for magnetic work. There remained also a good deal to do preparing stores for later sledge journeys.

The load was to be one thousand four hundred and forty pounds distributed over three sledges; two hundred pounds heavier than on the March Journey, but as the dogs pulled one sledge, the actual weight per man was less.

The rations were almost precisely the same as those used by Shackleton during his Expedition, and the daily allowance was exactly the same—thirty-four ounces per man per day. For his one ounce of oatmeal, the same weighs of ground biscuit was substituted; the food value being the same. On the second depot journey and the main summer journeys, a three-ounce glaxo biscuit was used in place of four and a half ounces of plasmon biscuit. Instead of taking cheese and chocolate as the luncheon ration, I took chocolate alone, as on Shackleton's southern journey it was found more satisfactory than the cheese, though the food value was practically the same.

The sledging equipment and clothing were identical with that used by Shackleton. Jaeger fleece combination suits were included in the outfit but, though excellent garments for work at the Base, they were much too heavy for sledging. We therefore wore Jaeger underclothing and burberry wind clothing as overalls.

The weather was not propitious for a start until Thursday, August 22. We turned out at 5.30 A.M., had breakfast, packed up and left the Hut at seven o'clock.

After two good days' work under a magnificently clear sky, with the temperature often as low as -34 degrees F., we sighted two small nunataks among a cluster of pressure-ridges, eight miles to the south. It was the first land, in the sense of rocks, seen for more than seven months. We hoped to visit the outcrops—Gillies Nunataks—on our return.