My orders were given me by Atkinson, and were verbal, as follows:

1. To take 24 days' food for the two men, and 21

days' food for the two dog-teams, together with the food

for the Polar Party.

2. To travel to One Ton Depôt as fast as possible and

leave the food there.

3. If Scott had not arrived at One Ton Depôt before

me I was to judge what to do.

4. That Scott was not in any way dependent on the

dogs for his return.

5. That Scott had given particular instructions that the

dogs were not to be risked in view of the sledging plans

for next season.

Since it had proved impossible to take the depôt of dog-food, together

with the full Polar Party rations, to One Ton before this; considering

the unforeseen circumstances which had arisen; and seeing that this

journey of the dog-teams was not indispensable, being simply meant to

bring the last party home more speedily, I do not believe that better

instructions could have been given than these of Atkinson.

I was eager to start as soon as the team which had come back from Cape

Evans was rested, but a blizzard prevented this. On the morning of the

25th it was thick as a hedge, but it cleared enough to pack sledges in

the afternoon, and when we turned into our bags we could see Observation

Hill. We started at 2 A.M. that night.

I confess I had my misgivings. I had never driven one dog, let alone a

team of them; I knew nothing of navigation; and One Ton was a hundred and

thirty miles away, out in the middle of the Barrier and away from

landmarks. And so as we pushed our way out through the wind and drift

that night I felt there was a good deal to be hoped for, rather than to

be expected. But we got along very well, Dimitri driving his team in

front, as he did most of this journey, and picking up marks very

helpfully with his sharp eyes. In the low temperatures we met, the

glasses which I must wear are almost impossible, because of fogging. We

took three boxes of dog-biscuit from Safety Camp and another three boxes

from a point sixteen miles from Hut Point. Here we rested the dogs for a

few hours, and started again at 6 P.M. All day the light was appalling,

and the wind strong, but to my great relief we found Corner Camp after

four hours' more travelling, the flag showing plainly, though the cairn

itself was invisible when a hundred yards away. This was the last place

where there was any dog-food on the route, and the dogs got a good feed

after doing thirty-four miles (statute) for the day's run. This was more

than we had hoped: the only disquieting fact was that both the

sledge-meters which we had were working wrong: the better of the two

seemed however to be marking the total mileage fairly correctly at

present, though the hands which indicated more detailed information were

quite at sea. We had no minimum thermometer, but the present temperature

was -4°.

"_February 27._ Mount Terror has proved our friend to-day, for the slope

just above the Knoll has remained clear when everything else was covered,

and we have steered by that--behind us. It seemed, when we started in low

drift, that we should pick up nothing, but by good luck, or good I don't

know what, we have got everything: first the motor, then pony walls at 10

miles, where we stopped and had a cup of tea. I wanted to do 15 miles,

but we have done 18½ miles on the best running surface I have ever seen.

After lunch we got a cairn which we could not see twenty yards away after

we had reached it, but which we could see for a long way on the southern

horizon, against a thin strip of blue sky. We camped just in time to get

the tent pitched before a line of drift we saw coming out of the sky hit

us. It is now blowing a mild blizzard and drifting. Forty-eight miles in

two days is more than I expected: may our luck continue. Dogs pulling

very fit and not done up.

"_February 28._ I had my first upset just after starting, the sledge

capsizing on a great sastrugus like the Ramp. Dimitri was a long way

ahead and all behind was very thick. I had to unload the sledge for I

could not right it alone. Just as I righted it the team took charge. I

missed the driving-stick but got on to the sledge with no hope of

stopping them, and I was carried a mile to the south, leaving four boxes

of dog-food, the weekly bag, cooker, and tent poles on the ground. The

team stopped when they reached Dimitri's team, and by then the gear was

out of sight. We went back for it, and made good 16¾ miles for the day on

a splendid surface. The sun went down at 11.15 (10.15 A.T.), miraged

quite flat on top. After he had gone down a great bonfire seemed to blaze

out from the horizon. Now -22° and we use a candle for the first time.

"_February 29. Bluff Depôt._ If anybody had told me we could reach Bluff

Depôt, nearly ninety miles, in four days, I would not have believed it.

We have had a good clear day with much mirage. Dogs a bit tired."[262]

The next three days' run took us to One Ton. On the day we left Bluff

Depôt, which had been made a little more than a year ago, when certain of

the ponies were sent home on the Depôt Journey,[263] but which no longer

contained any provisions, we travelled 12 miles; there was a good light

and it was as warm as could be expected in March. The next day (March 2)

we did 9 miles after a cold and sleepless night, -24° and a mild blizzard

from N.W. and quite thick. On the night of March 3 we reached One Ton,

heading into a strongish wind with a temperature of -24°. These were the

first two days on which we had cold weather, but it was nothing to worry

about for us, and was certainly not colder than one could ordinarily have

expected at this time of year.

Arrived at One Ton my first feeling was one of relief that the Polar

Party had not been to the Depôt and that therefore we had got their

provisions out in time. The question of what we were to do in the

immediate future was settled for us; for four days out of the six during

which we were at One Ton the weather made travelling southwards, that is

against the wind, either entirely impossible or such that the chance of

seeing another party at any distance was nil. On the two remaining days I

could have run a day farther South and back again, with the possibility

of missing the party on the way. I decided to remain at the Depôt where

we were certain to meet.

On the day after we arrived at One Ton (March 4) Dimitri came to me and

said that the dogs ought to be given more food, since they were getting

done and were losing their coats: they had, of course, done a great deal

of sledging already this year. Dimitri had long experience of dog-driving

and I had none. I thought and I still think he was right. I increased the

dog ration therefore, and this left us with thirteen more days' dog-food,

including that for March 4.

The weather was bad when we were at One Ton, for when it was blowing the

temperature often remained comparatively low, and when it was not blowing

it dropped considerably, and I find readings in my diary of -34° and -37°

at 8 P.M. Having no minimum thermometer we did not know the night

temperatures. On the other hand I find an entry: "To-day is the first

real good one we have had, only about -10° and the sun shining,--and we

have shifted the tent, dried our bags and gear a lot, and been pottering

about all day." At this time, however, when we were at One Ton I looked

upon these conditions as being a temporary cold snap: there was no reason

then to suppose these were normal March conditions in the middle of the

Barrier, where no one had ever been at this time of year. I believe now

they are normal: on the other hand, in our meteorological report Simpson

argues that they were abnormal for the Barrier at this time of year.[264]

Since there was no depôt of dog-food at One Ton it was not possible to go

farther South (except for the one day mentioned above) without killing

dogs. My orders on this point were perfectly explicit; I saw no reason

for disobeying them, and indeed it appeared that we had been wrong to

hurry out so soon, before the time that Scott had reckoned that he would

return, and that the Polar Party would really come in at the time Scott

had calculated before starting rather than at the time we had reckoned

from the data brought back by the Last Return Party.

From the particulars already given it will be seen that I had no reason

to suspect that the Polar Party could be in want of food. The Polar Party

of five men had according to our rations plenty of food either on their

sledge or in the depôts. In addition they had a lot of pony meat depôted

at Middle Glacier Depôt and onwards from there. Though we did not know

it, the death of Evans at the foot of the Beardmore Glacier provided an

additional amount of food for the four men who were then left. The full

amount of oil for this food had been left in the depôts; but we know now

what we did not know then, that some of it had evaporated. These matters

are discussed in greater detail in the account of the return of the Polar

Party and after.[265]

Thus I felt little anxiety for the Polar Party. But I was getting anxious

about my companion. Soon after arrival at One Ton it was clear that

Dimitri was feeling the cold. He complained of his head; then his right

arm and side were affected; and from this time onwards he found that he

could do less and less with his right side. Still I did not worry much

about it, and my decision as to our movements was not affected by this

complication. I decided to allow eight days' food for our return, which

meant that we must start on March 10.

"_March 10._ Pretty cold night: -33° when we turned out at 8 A.M.

Getting our gear together, and the dogs more or less into order after

their six days was cold work, and we started in minus thirties and a head

wind. The dogs were mad,--stark, staring lunatics. Dimitri's team wrecked

my sledge-meter, and I left it lying on the ground a mile from One Ton.

All we could do was to hang on to the sledge and let them go: there

wasn't a chance to go back, turn them or steer them. Dimitri broke his

driving-stick: my team fought as they went: once I was dragged with my

foot pinned under my driving-stick, which was itself jammed in the

grummet: several times I only managed to catch on anywhere: this went on

for six or seven miles, and then they got better."[266]

Our remaining sledge-meter was quite unreliable, but following our

outward tracks (for it became thick and overcast), and judging by our old

camping sites, we reckoned that we had done an excellent run of 23 to 24

miles (statute) for the day. The temperature when we camped was only

-14°. However it became much colder in the night, and when we turned out

it was so thick that I decided we must wait. At 2 P.M. on March 11 there

was one small patch of blue sky showing, and we started to steer by this:

soon it was blowing a mild blizzard, and we stopped after doing what I

reckoned was eight miles, steering by trying to keep the wind on my ear:

but I think we were turning circles much of the time. It blew hard and

was very cold during the night, and we turned out on the morning of March

12 to a blizzard with a temperature of -33°: this gradually took off, and

at 10 A.M. Dimitri said he could see the Bluff, and we were right into

the land, and therefore the pressure. This was startling, but later it

cleared enough to reassure me, though Dimitri was so certain that during

the first part of our run that day I steered east a lot. We did 25 to 30

miles this day in drift and a temperature of -28°.

By now I was becoming really alarmed and anxious about Dimitri, who

seemed to be getting much worse, and to be able to do less and less.

Sitting on a sledge the next day with a head wind and the temperature

-30° was cold. The land was clear when we turned out and I could see that

we must be far outside our course, but almost immediately it became

foggy. We made in towards the land a good deal, and made a good run, but

owing to the sledge-meter being useless and the bad weather generally

during the last few days, I had a very hazy idea indeed where we were

when we camped, having been steering for some time by the faint gleam of

the sun through the mist. Just after camping Dimitri suddenly pointed to

a black spot which seemed to wave to and fro: we decided that it was the

flag of the derelict motor near Corner Camp which up to that time I

thought was ten to fifteen miles away: this was a great relief, and we

debated packing up again and going to it, but decided to stay where we

were.

It was fairly clear on the morning of March 14, which was lucky, for it

was now obvious that we were miles from Corner Camp and much too near the

land. The flag we had seen must have been a miraged piece of pressure,

and it was providential that we had not made for it, and found worse

trouble than we actually experienced. Try all I could that morning, my

team, which was leading, insisted on edging westwards. At last I saw what

I thought was a cairn, but found out just in time that it was a haycock

or mound of ice formed by pressure: by its side was a large open

crevasse, of which about fifty yards of snow-bridge had fallen in. For

several miles we knew that we were crossing big crevasses by the hollow

sound, and it was with considerable relief that I sighted the motor and

then Corner Camp some two or three miles to the east of us. "Dimitri had

left his Alpine rope there, and also I should have liked to have brought

in Evans' sledge, but it would have meant about five miles extra, and I

left it. I hope Scott, finding no note, will not think we are lost."[267]

Dimitri seemed to be getting worse, and we pushed on until we camped that

night only fifteen miles from Hut Point. My main anxiety was whether the

sea-ice between us and Hut Point was in, because I felt that the job of

getting the teams up on to the Peninsula and along it and down the other

side would be almost more than we could do: there was an ominous

open-water sky ahead.

On March 15 we were held up all day by a strong blizzard. But by 8 A.M.

the next morning we could see just the outline of White Island. I was

very anxious, for Dimitri said that he had nearly fainted, and I felt

that we must get on somehow, and chance the sea-ice being in. He stayed

inside the tent as long as possible, and my spirits rose as the land

began to clear all round while I was packing up both sledges. From Safety

Camp the mirage at the edge of the Barrier was alarming, but as we

approached the edge to my very great relief I found that the sea-ice was

still in, and that what we had taken for frost smoke was only drift over

Cape Armitage.

Pushing into the drift round the corner I found Atkinson on the sea-ice,

and Keohane in the hut behind. In a few minutes we had the gist of one

another's news. The ship had made attempt after attempt to reach Campbell

and his five men, but they had not been taken off from Evans Coves when

she finally left McMurdo Sound on March 4: she would make another effort

on her way to New Zealand. Evans was better and was being taken home.

Meanwhile there were four of us at Hut Point and we could not communicate

with our companions at Cape Evans until the Sound froze over, for the

open sea was washing the feet of Vince's Cross.

* * * * *

We were not unduly alarmed about the Polar Party at present, but began to

make arrangements for further sledging if necessary. It was useless to

think of taking the dogs again for they were thoroughly done. The mules

and the new dogs were at Cape Evans. "In four or five days Atkinson

wishes to start South again to see what we can do man-hauling, if the

Polar Party is not in. I agree with him that to try and go west to meet

Campbell is useless just now. If we can go north, they can come south,

and to put two parties there on the new sea-ice is to double the risk."

"_March 17._ A blizzard day but only about force 5-6. I think they will

have been able to travel all right on the Barrier. Atkinson thinks of

starting on the 22nd: my view is that allowing three weeks and four days

for the Summit, and ten days for being hung up by weather, we can give

them five weeks after the Last Return Party (i.e. to March 26) to get

in, having been quite safe and sound all the way. We feel anxious now,

but I do not think there is need for alarm till then, and they might get

in well after that, and be all right.

"Now our only real chance of finding them, if we go out, is from here to

ten miles south of Corner Camp. After that we shall do all we can, but it

would be no good, because there is no very definite route. Therefore I

would start out on March 27, when we would travel that part with most

chance of meeting them there if they have any trouble. I have put this to

Atkinson and will willingly do what he decides. I am feeling pretty done

up, and have rested. The prospect of what will be a hard journey, feeling

as I do, is rather bad. I don't think there is really cause for alarm."

"_March 18 and 19._ We are very anxious, though the Pole Party could not

be in yet. Also I am very done, and more so than I at first thought: I am

afraid it is a bit doubtful whether I can get out again yet, but to-day I

feel better and have been for a short walk. I am taking all the rest I

can."

"_March 20._ Last night a very strong blizzard blew, wind force 9 and big

snowfall and drift. This morning the doors and windows are all drifted

up, and we could hardly get out: a lot of snow had got inside the hut

also: I was feeling rotten, and thought that to go out and clear the

window and door would do me good. This I did, but came back in a big

squall, passing Atkinson as I came in. Then I felt myself going faint,

and remember pushing the door to get in if possible. I knew no more until

I came to on the floor just inside the door, having broken some tendons

in my right hand in falling."[268]

Two days afterwards the dogs sang at breakfast-time: they often did this

when a party was approaching, even when it was still far away, and they

had done so when Crean came in on his walk from Corner Camp. We were

cheered by the noise. But no party arrived, and the singing of the dogs

was explained later by some seal appearing on the new ice in Arrival Bay.

Atkinson decided to go out on to the Barrier man-hauling with Keohane on

the 26th. It was obvious that I could not go with them: he told me

afterwards that when I came in with the dog-teams he was sure I could not

go out again.

"_March 25._ The wind came away yesterday evening, first S.W. and then

S.E. but not bad, though very thick. It was a surprise to find we could

see the Western Mountains this morning, and I believe it has been a good

day on the Barrier, though it is still blowing with low drift this

evening. We are now on the days when I expect the Polar Party in: pray

God I may be right. Atkinson and I look at one another, and he looks, and

I feel, quite haggard with anxiety. He says he does not think they have

scurvy. We both, I think, feel quite comfortable, in comparison, about

Campbell: he only wants to exercise care, and his great care was almost a

byword on the ship. They are fresh and they have plenty of seal.[269] He

discussed with Pennell both the possibility of shipwreck and that of the

ship being unable to get to him, and for this reason landed an extra

month's rations as a depôt; also he contemplated the idea of living on

seal. He knows of the Butter Point Depôt, and knows that a party has been

sledging in that neighbourhood: though he does not know of the depôts

they left at Cape Roberts and Cape Bernacchi, they are right out on the

Points and Taylor says he could not miss them on his way down the

coast."[270]

This day Atkinson thought he saw Campbell's party coming in, and the next

day Keohane and Dimitri came in great excitement and said they could see

them, and we were out on the Point and on the sea-ice in the drift for

quite a long time. "Last night we had turned in about two hours when five

or six knocks were hit on the little window over our heads. Atkinson

shouted 'Hullo!' and cried, 'Cherry, they're in.' Keohane said, 'Who's

cook?' Some one lit a candle and left it in the far corner of the hut to

give them light, and we all rushed out. But there was no one there. It

was the nearest approach to ghost work that I have ever heard, and it

must have been a dog which sleeps in that window. He must have shaken

himself, hitting the window with his tail. Atkinson thought he heard

footsteps!"[271]

On Wednesday, March 27, Atkinson started out on to the Barrier with one

companion, Keohane. During the whole of this trip the temperatures were

low, and both men obtained but little sleep, finding of course that a

tent occupied by two men only is a very cold place. The first two days

they made nine miles each day, on March 29 they pushed on in thick

weather for eleven miles, when the weather cleared enough to show them

that they had got into the White Island pressure. On March 30 they

reached a point south of Corner Camp, when "taking into consideration the

weather, and temperatures, and the time of the year, and the hopelessness

of finding the party except at any definite point like a depôt, I decided

to return from here. We depôted the major portion of a week's provisions

to enable them to communicate with Hut Point in case they should reach

this point. At this date in my own mind I was morally certain that the

party had perished, and in fact on March 29 Captain Scott, 11 miles south

of One Ton Depôt, made the last entry in his diary."[272]

"They arrived back on April 1. Yesterday evening at 6.30 P.M. Atkinson

and Keohane arrived. It was pretty thick here and blowing too, but they

had had a fair day on the Barrier. They had been out to Corner Camp and

eight miles farther. Their bags were bad, their clothes very bad after

six days: they must have had minus forties constantly. It is a moral

certainty that to go farther south would serve no purpose, and for two

men would be a useless risk. They did quite right to come back. They are

much in want of sleep, poor devils, and I do hope Atkinson will allow

himself to rest: he looks as though he might knock up. Keohane did well,

and is very fit. They came in over fifteen miles yesterday, and have

brought in the sledge of the Second Return Party, the one they took out

being very heavy pulling. They had no day on which they could not travel.

Here it has been blowing and drifting half the time he has been absent,"

and a few days later, "We have got to face it now. The Pole Party will

not in all probability ever get back. And there is no more that we can

do. The next step must be to get to Cape Evans as soon as it is possible.

There are fresh men there: at any rate fresh compared to us."[273]

* * * * *

Atkinson was the senior officer left, and unless Campbell and his party

came in, the command of the Main Party devolved upon him. It was not a

position which any one could envy even if he had been fresh and fit.

Amidst all his anxieties and responsibilities he looked after me with the

greatest patience and care. I was so weak that sometimes I could only

keep on my legs with difficulty: the glands of my throat were swollen so

that I could hardly speak or swallow: my heart was strained and I had

considerable pain. At such a time I was only a nuisance, but nothing

could have exceeded his kindness and his skill with the few drugs which

we possessed.

Again and again in these days some one would see one or other of the

missing parties coming in. It always proved to be mirage, a seal or

pressure or I do not know what, but never could we quite persuade

ourselves that these excitements might not have something in them, and

every time hope sprang up anew. Meanwhile the matter of serious

importance was the state of the ice in the bays between us and Cape

Evans: we _must_ get help. All the ice in the middle of the Sound was

swept out by the winds of March 30 to April 2, and on the following day

Atkinson climbed Arrival Heights to see how the remaining ice looked. The

view over the Sound from here is shown in the frontispiece to this book.

"The ice in the two bays to Cape Evans is quite new--formed this morning,

I suppose, with the rest that is in the Sound. There are open leads

between Glacier Tongue and Cape Evans, inside the line joining the ends

of the two. There is a big berg in between Glacier Tongue and the

Islands, and also a flat one off Cape Evans."[274]

We had some good freezing days after this, and on April 5 "we tried the

ice this afternoon. It is naturally slushy and salt, but some hundred

yards from the old ice it is six inches thick: probably it averages about

this thickness all over the Sound."[275] Then we had a hard blizzard, on

the fourth day of which it was possible to get up the Heights again and

see for some distance. As far as could be judged the ice in the two bays

had remained firm: these bays are those formed on either side of Glacier

Tongue, by the Hut Point Peninsula on the south, and by Cape Evans and

the islands on the north.

On April 10 Atkinson, Keohane and Dimitri started for Cape Evans, meaning

to travel along the Peninsula to the Hutton Cliffs, and thence to cross

the sea-ice in these bays, if it proved to be practicable. The amount of

daylight was now very restricted, and the sun would disappear for the

winter a week hence. Arrived at the Hutton Cliffs, where it was blowing

as usual, they lost no time in lowering themselves and their sledge on to

the sea-ice, and were then pleasantly surprised to find how slippery it

was. "We set sail before a strong following breeze and, all sitting on

the sledge, had reached the Glacier Tongue in twenty minutes. We

clambered over the Tongue, and, our luck and the breeze still holding, we

reached Cape Evans, completing the last seven miles, all sitting on the

sledge, in an hour."

[Illustration: CAPE EVANS FROM ARRIVAL HEIGHTS]

[Illustration: CAPE ROYDS FROM CAPE BARNE]

"There I called together all the members and explained the situation,

telling them what had been done, and what I then proposed to do; also

asking them for their advice in this trying time. The opinion was almost

unanimous that all that was possible had been already done. Owing to

the lateness of the year, and the likelihood of our being unable to make

our way up the coast to Campbell, one or two members suggested that

another journey might be made to Corner Camp. Knowing the conditions

which had lately prevailed on the Barrier, I took it upon myself to

decide the uselessness of this."[276]

All was well at Cape Evans. Winds and temperatures had both been high,

the latter being in marked contrast to the low temperatures we had

experienced at Hut Point, which averaged as much as 15° lower than those

that were recorded in the previous year. The seven mules were well, but

three of the new dogs had died: we were always being troubled by that

mysterious disease.

Before she left for New Zealand the following members of our company

joined the ship: Simpson, who had to return to his work in India;

Griffith Taylor, who had been lent to us by the Australian Government for

only one year; Ponting, whose photographic work was done; Day, whose work

with the motors was done; Meares, who was recalled by family affairs;

Forde, whose hand had never recovered the effects of frost-bite during

the spring; Clissold, who fell off a berg and concussed himself; and

Anton, whose work with the ponies was done. Lieutenant Evans was

invalided home.

Archer had been landed to take Clissold's place as cook; another seaman,

Williamson, was landed to take Forde's place, and of our sledging

companions he was the only fresh man. Wright was probably the most fit

after him, and otherwise we had no one who, under ordinary circumstances,

would have been considered fit to go out sledging again this season,

especially at a time when the sun was just leaving us for the winter. We

were sledged out.

The next few days were occupied in making preparations for a further

sledge journey, and on April 13 a party started to return to Hut Point by

the Hutton Cliffs. Atkinson, Wright, Keohane and Williamson were to try

and sledge up the western coast to help Campbell: Gran and Dimitri were

to stay with me at Hut Point. The surface of the sea-ice was now

extremely slushy and bad for pulling; the ice had begun to extrude its

salt. A blizzard started in their faces, and they ran for shelter to the

lee of Little Razorback Island. The weather clearing they pushed on to

the Glacier Tongue, and camped there for the night somewhat frost-bitten.

Some difficulty was experienced the next morning in climbing the

ice-cliff on to the Peninsula, but Atkinson, using his knife as a

purchase, and the sledge held at arm's-length by four men as a ladder,

succeeded eventually in getting a foothold.

Meanwhile I was left alone at Hut Point, where blizzards raged

periodically with the usual creakings and groanings of the old hut.

Foolishly I accompanied my companions, when they started for Cape Evans,

as far as the bottom of Ski Slope. When I left them I found I could not

keep my feet on the slippery snow and ice patches, and I had several

nasty falls, in one of which I gave my shoulder a twist. It was this

shaking combined with the rather desperate conditions which caused a more

acute state of illness and sickness than I had experienced for some time.

Some of those days I remained alone at Hut Point I was too weak to do

more than crawl on my hands and knees about the hut. I had to get blubber

from the door to feed the fire, and chop up seal-meat to eat, to cook,

and to tend the dogs, some of whom were loose, while most of them were

tied in the verandah, or between the hut door and Vince's Cross. The hut

was bitterly cold with only one man in it: had there not been some

morphia among the stores brought down from Cape Evans I do not know what

I should have done.

The dogs realized that they could take liberties which they would not

have dared to do in different circumstances. They whined and growled, and

squabbled amongst themselves all the time, day and night. Seven or eight

times one day I crawled across the floor to try and lay my hands upon one

dog who was the ringleader. I was sure it was Dyk, but never detected him

in the act, and though I thrashed him with difficulty as a speculation,

the result was not encouraging. I would willingly have killed the lot of

them just then, I am ashamed to say. I lay in my sleeping-bag with the

floor of the hut falling from me, or its walls disappearing in the

distance and coming back: and roused myself at intervals to feed blubber

to the stove. I felt as though I had been delivered out of hell when the

relief party arrived on the night of April 14. I had been alone four

days, and I think a few more days would have sent me off my head. Not the

least welcome of the things they had brought me were my letters, copies

of the Weekly Times, a pair of felt shoes and a comb!

Atkinson's plan was to start on April 7 over the old sea-ice which lay to

the south and south-west of us: he was to take with him Wright, Keohane

and Williamson, and they wanted to reach Butter Point, and thence to

sledge up the western coast. If the sea-ice was in, and Campbell was

sledging down upon it, they hoped to meet him and might be of the

greatest assistance to him. Even if they did not meet him they could mark

more obviously certain depôts, of which he had no knowledge, left by our

own geological parties on the route he must follow. As I have already

mentioned, these were on Cape Roberts, off Granite Harbour, and on Cape

Bernacchi, north of New Harbour: there was also a depôt at Butter Point,

but Campbell already knew of this. They could also leave instructions to

this effect at points where he would be likely to see them. There was no

question that there was grave risk in this journey. Not only was the

winter approaching, and the daylight limited, but the sea-ice over which

they must march was most dangerous. Sea-ice is always forming and being

blown out to sea, or just floating away on the tide at this time of year.

The amount of old ice which had remained during the summer was certain to

be limited: the new ice was thin and might take them out with it at any

time. However, what could be done had to be done.

Before they left certain signals by means of rockets and Véry lights were

arranged, to be sent up by us at Hut Point if Campbell arrived: signals

had also been arranged between Hut Point and Cape Evans in view of

certain events. We did not have, but I think we ought to have had some

form of portable heliograph for communications between Hut Point and Cape

Evans when the sun was up and some kind of lamp signal apparatus to use

during the winter.

They started at 10.30 A.M. on Wednesday, April 17. The sun was now only

just peeping over the northern horizon at mid-day, and would disappear

entirely in six more days, though of course there was a long twilight as

yet. For fresh men on old sea-ice it would not have been an easy venture:

for worn-out men on a coast where the ice was probably freezing and

blowing out at odd times it was very brave.

They had hard pulling their first two days, and the minimum temperature

for the corresponding nights was -43° and -45°. Consequently they soon

began to be iced up. On the other hand they found old sea-ice and made

good some 25 miles, camping on the evening of the 18th about four miles

from the Eskers. Next morning they had to venture upon newly frozen ice,

and a blizzard wind was blowing. They crossed the four miles from their

night camp to the Eskers, glad enough to reach land the other side

without the ice going to sea with them. They then turned towards the

Butter Point Depôt, but were compelled to camp owing to the blizzard

which came on with full force. The rise in temperature to zero caused a

general thaw of sleeping-bags and clothing which dried but little when

the sun had no power. On the following morning they reached the Butter

Point Depôt, which they found with difficulty, for there was no flag

standing. Even as they struck their camp they saw the ice to the north of

them breaking up and going out to sea. There was nothing to do but to

turn back, for neither could they go north to Campbell nor could Campbell

come south to them. Wright now told Atkinson how much he had been opposed

to this journey all along: "he had come on this trip fully believing that

there was every possibility of the party being lost, but had never

demurred and never offered a contrary opinion, and one cannot be thankful

enough to such men."[277] They made up the Butter Point Depôt, marked it

as well as they could in case Campbell should arrive there, and left two

weeks' provisions for him. They could do no more.

They got back to the Eskers that same day and anxiously awaited the

twilight of the morning to reveal the state of the new sea-ice which they

had crossed on their outward journey. To their joy some of it remained

and they started to do the four miles between them and the old sea-ice.

For two miles they ran with the sail set: then they had a hard pull, and

some Emperor penguins whom they could see led them to suppose that there

was open water ahead. But they got through all right, and did ten miles

for the day. On Monday 22, "blizzard in morning, so started late, and

made for end of Pinnacled Ice. We found our little bay of sea-ice all

gone out. Luckily there was a sort of ice-foot around the Pinnacled Ice

and we completed seven miles and got through."[278]

_Tuesday, April 23._ "Atkinson and his party got in about 7 P.M. after a

long pull all day in very bad weather. They are just in the state of a

party which has been out on a very cold spring journey: clothes and

sleeping-bags very wet, sweaters, pyjama coats and so forth full of snow.

Atkinson looks quite done up, his cheeks are fallen in and his throat

shows thin. Wright is also a good deal done up, and the whole party has

evidently had little sleep. They have had a difficult and dangerous trip,

and it is a good thing they are in, and they are fortunate to have had no

mishaps, for the sea-ice is constantly going out over there, and when

they were on it they never knew that they might not find themselves cut

off from the shore. Big leads were constantly opening, even in ice over a

foot thick and with little wind. But even if the ice had been in I do not

believe that they could have gone many days."[279]

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

April 28 seemed to be a quite good day when we woke, and Wright, Keohane

and Gran started back for Cape Evans before 10 A.M. We could then see the

outline of Inaccessible Island, and the ice in the Sound looked fairly

firm. So they determined to go by the way of the sea-ice under Castle

Rock instead of going along the Peninsula to the Hutton Cliffs. Soon

after they started it came up thick, and by 11.30 it was blowing a mild

blizzard with a low temperature. We felt considerable anxiety, especially

when a full blizzard set in with a temperature down to -31°, and we could

not see how the ice was standing it. Two days later it cleared, and that

night a flare was lit at Cape Evans at a pre-arranged time, by which

signal we knew that they had arrived safely. We heard afterwards that

when it came up thick they decided to follow the land which was the only

thing that they could see. They soon found that the ice was not nearly so

good as was supposed: there were open pools of water, and some of the ice

was moving up and down with their weight as they crossed it: Gran put his

foot in. Then Wright went ahead with the Alpine rope, the ice being blue,

the pulling easy, and the wind force 4-5. As far as Turtleback Island the

ice was newly frozen, but after that they knew they were on oldish ice.

They were lost on Cape Evans in the blizzard for some time, but

eventually found the hut safely. One of the lessons of this expedition is

that too little care was taken in travelling on sea-ice.

Atkinson, Dimitri and I left for Cape Evans with the two dog-teams on May

1. Directly we started it was evident that the surface was very bad: even

the ice near Hut Point, which had been frozen for a long time, was hard

pulling for the dogs, and when after less than a mile we got on to ice

which had frozen quite lately the sledges were running on snow which in

turn lay on salt sleet. It seemed a long time before we got abreast of

Castle Rock, following close along the land for the weather was very

thick: when we started we could just see the outline of Inaccessible

Island, but by now the horizon was lost in the dusk and haze. We decided

to push on to Turtleback Island and go over Glacier Tongue in order to

get on to the older ice as soon as possible. The dogs began to get very

done: Manuki Noogis, who had been harnessed in as leader (for Rabchick

had deserted in the night), gave in completely, lay down and refused to

be persuaded to go on: we had to cast him off and hope that he would

follow. After a time Turtleback Island was visible in the gloom, but it

was all we could do, pushing and pulling the sledges to help the dogs, to

get them so far. We were now on the older ice: our way was easier and we

reached Cape Evans without further incident. We found Rabchick on

arrival, but no Manuki Noogis, who never reappeared.

As we neared the Cape Atkinson turned to me: "Would you go for Campbell

or the Polar Party next year?" he said. "Campbell," I answered: just then

it seemed to me unthinkable that we should leave live men to search for

those who were dead.

FOOTNOTES:

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

[260] See pp. 353, 383.

[261] See pp. 382, 383.

[262] My own diary.

[263] See p. 115.

[264] _British Antarctic Expedition, 1910-1913_, "Meteorology," by

G. C. Simpson, vol. i. pp. 28-30.

[265] See pp. 550-556.

[266] My own diary.

[267] My own diary.

[268] My own diary.

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

[270] My own diary.

[271] My own diary.

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

[273] My own diary.

[274] My own diary.

[275] Ibid.

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

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

[278] Atkinson's diary.

[279] My own diary.

CHAPTER XIV

THE LAST WINTER

Ordinary people snuggle up to God as a lost leveret in a freezing

wilderness might snuggle up to a Siberian tiger....--H. G. WELLS.

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

SCOTT OATES ARCHER WILLIAMSON

WILSON SEAMAN EVANS

BOWERS

(IV) _13 men at Cape Evans for third year._

(II) _9 men gone home._ ATKINSON CREAN

CHERRY-GARRARD KEOHANE

LIEUT. EVANS DAY WRIGHT DIMITRI

SIMPSON FORDE DEBENHAM HOOPER

MEARES CLISSOLD GRAN WILLIAMSON

TAYLOR ANTON NELSON ARCHER

PONTING LASHLY

A quite disproportionately small part of Scott's Last Expedition was

given to Atkinson's account of the last and worst year any of us

survivors spent: some one should have compelled him to write, for he will

not do so if he can help it. The problems which presented themselves were

unique in the history of Arctic travel, the weather conditions which had

to be faced during this last winter were such as had never been met in

McMurdo Sound! The sledging personnel had lately undergone journeys, in

one case no less than four journeys, of major importance, until they were

absolutely worn out. The successful issue of the party was a triumph of

good management and good fellowship. The saving clause was that as

regards hut, food, heat, clothing and the domestic life generally we were

splendidly found. To the north of us, some hundreds of miles away,

Campbell's party of six men must be fighting for their lives against

these same conditions, or worse--unless indeed they had already perished

on their way south. We knew they must be in desperate plight, but

probably they were alive: the point in their favour was that they were

fresh men. To the south of us, anywhere between us and the Pole, were

five men. We knew _they_ must be dead.

The immediate problem which presented itself was how best to use the

resources which were left to us. Our numbers were much reduced. Nine men

had gone home before any hint of tragedy reached them. Two men had been

landed from the ship. We were thirteen men for this last year. Of these

thirteen it was almost certain that Debenham would be unable to go out

sledging again owing to an injury to his knee: Archer had come to cook

and not to sledge: and it was also doubtful about myself. As a matter of

fact our sledging numbers for the last summer totalled eleven, five

officers and six men.

We were well provided with transport, having the seven mules sent down by

the Indian Government, which were excellent animals, as well as our

original two dog-teams: the additional dogs brought down by the ship were

with two exceptions of no real sledging value. Our dog-teams had,

however, already travelled some 1500 miles on the Barrier alone, not

counting the work they had done between Hut Point and Cape Evans; and,

though we did not realize it at this time, they were sick of it and never

worked again with that dash which we had come to expect of them.

The first thing which we settled about the winter which lay ahead of us

was that, so far as possible, everything should go on as usual. The

scientific work must of course be continued, and there were the dogs and

mules to be looked after: a night-watch to be kept and the meteorological

observations and auroral notes to be taken. Owing to our reduced numbers

we should need the help of the seamen for this purpose. We were also to

bring out another volume of the South Polar Times on Mid-winter Day. The

importance of not allowing any sense of depression to become a part of

the atmosphere of our life was clear to all. This was all the more

necessary when, as we shall see, the constant blizzards confined us week

after week to our hut. Even when we did get a fine day we were almost

entirely confined to the rocky cape for our exercise and walks. When

there was sea-ice it was most unsafe.

Atkinson was in command: in addition, he and Dimitri took over the care

of the dogs. Many of these, both those which had been out sledging and

those just arrived, were in a very poor state, and a dog hospital was

soon built. At this date we had 24 dogs left from the last year, and 11

dogs brought down recently by the ship: three of the new dogs had already

died. Lashly was in charge of the seven mules, which were allotted to

seven men for exercise: Nelson was to continue his marine biological

work: Wright was to be meteorologist as well as chemist and physicist:

Gran was in charge of stores, and would help Wright in the meteorological

observations: Debenham was geologist and photographer. I was ordered to

take a long rest, but could do the zoological work, the South Polar

Times, and keep the Official Account of the Expedition from day to day.

Crean was in charge of sledging stores and equipment. Archer was cook.

Hooper, our domestic, took over in addition the working of the acetylene

plant. There was plenty of work for our other two seamen, Keohane and

Williamson, in the daily life of the camp and in preparations for the

sledging season to come.

The blizzard which threatened us all the way from Hut Point on May 1

broke soon after we got in. The ice in North Bay, which had been frozen

for some time, was taken out on the first day of this blizzard, with the

exception of a small strip running close along the shore. The rest

followed the next afternoon, when the wind was still rising, and blew in

the gusts up to 89 miles an hour. The curious thing was that all this

time the air had been quite clear.

This was the second day of the blizzard. The wind continued in violence

as the night wore on, and it began to snow, becoming very thick. From 3

A.M. to 4 A.M. the wind was so strong that there was a continuous rattle

of sand and stones up against the wall of the hut. The greater part of

the time the anemometer head was choked by the drifting snow, and

Debenham, whose night-watch it was, had a bad time in clearing it at 4

A.M. During the period when it was working it registered a gust of over

91 miles an hour. While it was not working there came a gust which woke

most people up, and which was a far more powerful one, making a regular

hail of stones against the wall. The next morning the wind was found to

be averaging 104 miles an hour when the anemometer on the hill was

checked for three minutes. Later it was averaging 78 miles an hour. This

blizzard continued to rage all this day and the next, but on May 6, which

was one of those clear beautiful days when it is hard to believe that it

can ever blow again, we could see something of the damage to the sea-ice.

The centre of the Sound was clear of ice, and the open water stretched to

the S. W. of us as far back as Tent Island. We were to have many worse

blizzards during this winter, but this particular blow was important

because it came at a critical time in the freezing over of the sea, and,

once it had been dispersed, the winds of the future never allowed the ice

to form again sufficiently thick to withstand the wind forces which

obtained.

Thus I find in my diary of May 8: "Up to the present we have never

considered the possibility of the sea in this neighbourhood, and the

Sound out to the west of us, not freezing over permanently in the winter.

But here there is still open water, and it seems quite possible that

there may not be any permanent freezing this year, at any rate to the

north of Inaccessible Island and this cape. Though North Bay is now

frozen over, the ice in it was blown away during the night, and, having

been blown back again, is now only joined to the ice-foot by newly frozen

ice."

During this winter the ice formed in North Bay was constantly moving away

from the ice-foot, quite independently of wind. I watched it carefully as

far as it was possible to do so in the dark. Sometimes at any rate the

southern side of the sea-ice moved out not only northwards from the land,

but also slightly westwards from the glacier face. To the north-east the

ice was sometimes pressed closely up against the glacier. It seemed that

the whole sheet was subject to a screw movement, the origin of which was

somewhere out by Inaccessible Island. The result was that we often had a

series of leads of newly frozen ice stretching out for some forty yards

to an older piece of ice, each lead being of a different age. It was an

interesting study in the formation of sea-ice, covered at times by very

beautiful ice-flowers. But it was dangerous for the dogs, who sometimes

did not realize that these leads were not strong enough to bear them.

Vaida went in one day, but managed to scramble out on the far side. He

was induced to return to the land with difficulty, just before the whole

sheet of ice upon which he stood floated out to sea. Noogis, Dimitri's

good leader, wandered away several times during the winter: once at any

rate he seems to have been carried off on a piece of ice, and to have

managed to swim to land, for when he arrived in camp his coat was full of

icy slush: finally he disappeared altogether, all search for him was in

vain, and we never found out what had happened.

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

Vaida was a short-tempered strong animal, who must have about doubled his

weight since we came in from One Ton, and he became quite a house-dog

this winter, waiting at the door to be patted by men as they went out,

and coming in sometimes during the night-watch. But he did not like to be

turned out in the morning, and for my part I did not like the job, for he

could prove very nasty. We allowed a good many of the dogs to be loose

this year, and sometimes, when standing quietly upon a rock on the cape,

three or four of the dogs passed like shadows in the darkness, busily

hunting the ice-foot for seals: this was the trouble of giving them their

freedom, and I regret to say we found many carcasses of seal and Emperor

penguins. There was one new dog, Lion, who accompanied me sometimes to

the top of the Ramp to see how the ice lay out in the Sound. He seemed as

interested in it as I was, and while I was using night-glasses would sit

and gaze out over the sea which according to its age lay white or black

at our feet. Of course we had a dog called Peary, and another one

called Cooke. Peary was killed on the Barrier because he would not pull.

Cooke, however, was still with us, and seemed to have been ostracized by

his fellows, a position which in some lop-sided way he enjoyed. Loose

dogs chased him at sight, and when Cooke appeared, and others were about,

a regular steeplechase started. He also came up the Ramp with me one day:

half-way up he suddenly turned and fled for the hut as hard as he could

go: three other dogs came round the rocks in full chase, and they all

gave the impression of thoroughly enjoying themselves.

The question of what ought to be done for the best during the coming

sledging season must have been in the minds of all of us. Which of the

two missing parties were we to try and find? A winter journey to relieve

Campbell and his five men was out of the question. I doubt the

possibility of such a journey to Evans Coves with fit men: to us at any

rate it was unthinkable. Also if we could do the double journey up and

down, Campbell could certainly do the single journey down. Add to this

that there was every sign of open water under the Western Mountains,

though this did not influence us much when the decision was made. The

problem as it presented itself to us was much as follows:

Campbell's Party _might_ have been picked up by the Terra Nova. Pennell

meant to have another try to reach him on his way north, and it was

probable that the ship would not be able to communicate again with Cape

Evans owing to ice: on the other hand it was likely that the ship had

_not_ been able to relieve him. It also seemed that he could not have

travelled down the coast at this time, owing to the state of the sea-ice.

The danger to him and his men was primarily during the winter: every day

after the winter his danger was lessened. If we started in the end of

October to relieve Campbell, estimating the probable date of arrival of

the ship, we judged that we could reach him only five or six weeks before

the ship relieved him. All the same Campbell and his men might be alive,

and, having lived through the winter, the arrival of help might make the

difference between life and death.

On the other hand we knew that the Polar Party must be dead. They might

be anywhere between Hut Point and the Pole, drifted over by snow, or

lying at the bottom of a crevasse, which seemed the most likely thing to

have happened. From the Upper Glacier Depôt in 85° 5´ S. to the Pole,

that is the whole distance of the Plateau Journey, we did not know the

courses they had steered nor the position of their depôts, for Lieutenant

Evans, who brought back the Last Return Party, was invalided home and

neither of the seamen who remained of this party knew the courses.

After the experience of both the supporting parties on their way down the

Beardmore Glacier, when we all got into frightfully crevassed areas, it

was the general opinion that the Polar Party must have fallen down a

crevasse; the weight of five men, as compared with the four men and three

men of the other return parties, supported this theory. Lashly was

inclined to think they had had scurvy. The true solution never once

occurred to us, for they had full rations for a very much longer period

of time than, according to their averages to 87° 32´, they were likely to

be out.

The first object of the expedition had been the Pole. If some record was

not found, their success or failure would for ever remain uncertain. Was

it due not only to the men and their relatives, but also to the

expedition, to ascertain their fate if possible?

The chance of finding the remains of the Southern Party did not seem very

great. At the same time Scott was strict about leaving notes at depôts,

and it seemed likely that he would have left some record at the Upper

Glacier Depôt before starting to descend the Beardmore Glacier: it would

be interesting to know whether he did so. If we went south we must be

prepared to reach this depôt: farther than that, I have explained, we

could not track him. On the other hand, if we went south prepared to go

to the Upper Glacier Depôt, the number of sledging men necessary, in view

of the fact that we had no depôts, would not allow of our sending a

second party to relieve Campbell.

It was with all this in our minds that we sat down one evening in the hut

to decide what was to be done. The problem was a hard one. On the one

hand we might go south, fail entirely to find any trace of the Polar

Party, and while we were fruitlessly travelling all the summer Campbell's

men might die for want of help. On the other hand we might go north, to

find that Campbell's men were safe, and as a consequence the fate of the

Polar Party and the result of their efforts might remain for ever

unknown. Were we to forsake men who might be alive to look for those whom

we knew were dead?

These were the points put by Atkinson to the meeting of the whole party.

He expressed his own conviction that we should go south, and then each

member was asked what he thought. No one was for going north: one member

only did not vote for going south, and he preferred not to give an

opinion. Considering the complexity of the question, I was surprised by

this unanimity. We prepared for another Southern Journey.

It is impossible to express and almost impossible to imagine how

difficult it was to make this decision. Then we knew nothing: now we know

all. And nothing is harder than to realize in the light of facts the

doubts which others have experienced in the fog of uncertainty.

Our winter routine worked very smoothly. Inside the hut we had a good

deal more room than we needed, but this allowed of certain work being

done in its shelter which would otherwise have had to be done outside.

For instance we cut a hole through the floor of the dark-room, and

sledged in some heavy boulders of kenyte lava: these were frozen solidly

into the rock upon which the hut was built by the simple method of

pouring hot water over them, and the pedestal so formed was used by

Wright for his pendulum observations. I was able to skin a number of

birds in the hut; which, incidentally, was a very much colder place in

consequence of the reduction in our numbers.

The wind was most turbulent during this winter. The mean velocity of the

wind, in miles per hour, for the month of May was 24.6 m.p.h.; for June

30.9 m.p.h.; and for July 29.5 m.p.h. The percentage of hours when the

wind was blowing over fresh gale strength (42 m.p.h. on the Beaufort

scale) for the month of May was 24.5, for June 35, and for July 33 per

cent of the whole.

These figures speak for themselves: after May we lived surrounded by an

atmosphere of raging winds and blinding drift, and the sea at our door

was never allowed to freeze permanently.

After the blizzard in the beginning of May which I have already

described, the ice round the point of Cape Evans and that in North Bay

formed to a considerable thickness. We put a thermometer screen out upon

it, and Atkinson started a fish-trap through a hole in it. There was a

good deal of competition over this trap: the seamen started a rival one,

which was to have been a very large affair, though it narrowed down to a

less ambitious business before it was finished. There was a sound of

cheering one morning, and Crean came in triumph from his fish-trap with a

catch of 25. Atkinson's last catch had numbered one, but the seals had

found his fishing-holes: a new hole caught fish until a seal found it.

One of these fish, a Tremasome, had a parasitic growth over the dorsal

sheath. External parasites are not common in the Antarctic, and this was

an interesting find.

On June 1 Dimitri and Hooper went with a team of nine dogs to and from

Hut Point, to see if they could find Noogis, the dog which had left us on

our return on May 1. There was plenty of food for him to pick up there.

No trace of him could be found. The party reported a bad running surface,

no pressure in the ice, as was the case the former year, but a large open

working crack running from Great Razorback to Tent Island. There were big

snowdrifts at Hut Point, as indeed was already the case at Cape Evans.

During the first days of June we got down into the minus thirties, and

our spirits rose as the thermometer dropped: we wanted permanent

sea-ice.

"_Saturday, June 8._ The weather changes since the night before last have

been, luckily for us, uncommon. Thursday evening a strong northerly wind

started with some drift, and this increased during the night until it

blew over forty miles an hour, the temperature being -22°. A strong wind

from the north is rare, and generally is the prelude of a blizzard. This

northerly wind fell towards morning, and the day was calm and clear, the

temperature falling until it was -33° at 4 P.M. The barometer had been

abnormally low during the day, being only 28.24 at noon. Then at 8 P.M.

with the temperature at -36°, this blizzard broke, and at the same time

there was a big upward jump of the barometer, which seemed to mark the

beginning of the blizzard much more than the thermometer, which did not

rise much. The wind during the night was very high, blowing 72 and 66

miles an hour, for hours at a time, and has not yet shown any sign of

diminishing. Now, after lunch, the hut is straining and creaking, while a

shower of stones rattles at intervals against it: the drift is generally

very heavy."

"_Sunday, June 9._ The temperature has been higher, about zero, during

the day, and the blizzard shows no signs of falling yet. The gusts are

still of a very high velocity. A large quantity of ice to the north seems

to have gone out: at any rate our narrow strip along the front, which is

so valuable to us, will probably be permanent now."

"_Monday, June 10._ A most turbulent day. It is very hard to settle down

to do anything, read or write, with such a turmoil outside, the hut

shaking until we begin to wonder how long it will stand such winds. Most

of the time the wind is averaging about sixty miles an hour, but the

gusts are far greater, and at times it seems that something must go. Just

before lunch I was racking my brains to write an Editorial for the South

Polar Times, and had congratulated ourselves on having the sea-ice which

is still in North Bay. As we were having lunch Nelson came in and said,

'The thermometers have gone!' All the ice in North Bay has gone. The part

immediately next to the shore, which has now been in so long, and which

was over two feet thick, we had considered sure to stay. On it has gone

out the North Bay thermometer screen with its instruments, which was

placed 400 yards out, the fish-trap, some shovels and a sledge with a

crowbar. The gusts were exceptionally strong at lunch, and the ice must

have gone out very quickly. There was no sign of it afterwards, though it

was not drifting much and we could see some distance. To lose this ice in

North Bay is a great disappointment, for it means so much to us here

whether we have ice or water at our doors. We are now pretty well

confined to the cape both for our own exercise and that of the mules, and

in the dark it is very rough walking. But if the ice in South Bay were to

follow, it would be a calamity, cutting us off entirely from the south

and all sledging next year. Let us hope we shall be spared this."

This blizzard lasted for eight days, up till then the longest blizzard we

had experienced: "It died as it had lived, blowing hard to the last,

averaging 68 miles an hour from the south, and then 56 miles an hour from

the north, finally back to the south, and so to calm. To sit here with no

noise of wind whistling in the ventilator, calm and starlight outside,

and North Bay freezing over once more, is a very great relief."[280]

It is noteworthy that this clearance of the ice, as also that in the

beginning of May, coincided roughly with the maximum declination of the

moon, and therefore with a run of spring tides.

It would be tedious to give any detailed account of the winds and drift

which followed, night and day. There were few days which did not produce

their blizzard, but in contrast the hours of bright starlight were very

beautiful. "Walking home over the cape in the darkness this afternoon I

saw an eruption of Erebus which, compared with anything we have seen here

before, was very big. It looked as though a great mass of flame shot up

some thousands of feet into the air, and, as suddenly as it rose, fell

again, rising again to about half the height, and then disappearing.

There was then a great column of steam rising from the crater, and

probably, so Debenham asserts, it was not a flame which appeared, but the

reflection from a big bubble breaking in the crater. Afterwards the smoke

cloud stretched away southwards, and we could not see the end of

it."[281]

Blizzard followed blizzard, and at the beginning of July we had four days

which were the thickest I have ever seen. Generally when you go out into

a blizzard the drift is blown from your face and clothes, and though you

cannot see your stretched-out hand, especially on a dark winter day, the

wind prevents you being smothered. The wind also prevents the land,

tents, hut and cases from being covered. But during this blizzard the

drift drove at you in such blankets of snow, that your person was

immediately blotted out, your face covered and your eyes plugged up. Gran

lost himself for some time on the hill when taking the 8 A.M.

observations, and Wright had difficulty in getting back from the magnetic

cave. Men had narrow escapes of losing themselves, though they were but a

few feet from the hut.

When this blizzard cleared the camp was buried, and even on unobstructed

surfaces the snowdrifts averaged four feet of additional depth. Two

enormous drifts ran down to the sea from either end of the hut. I do not

think we ever found some of our stores again, but the larger part we

carried up to the higher ground behind us where they remained fairly

clear. About this time I began to notice large sheets of anchor ice off

the end of Cape Evans, that is to say, ice forming and remaining on the

bottom of the open sea. Now also the open water was extending round the

cape into the South Bay behind us: but it was too dark to get any

reliable idea of the distribution of ice in the Sound. We were afraid

that we were cut off from Hut Point, but I do not believe that this was

the case; though the open water must have stretched many miles to the

south in the middle of the Sound. The days when it was clear enough even

to potter about outside the hut were exceptional. God was very angry.

"_Sunday, July 14._ A blizzard during the night, and after breakfast it

was drifting a lot. While we were having service some of the men went

over the camp to get ice for water. The sea-ice had been blown out of

North Bay, and the men supposed that the sea was open, and would look

black, but Crean tells me that they nearly walked over the ice-foot, and,

when it cleared later, we saw the sea as white as the ice-foot itself. A

strip of ice which was lying out in the Bay last night must have been

brought in by the tide, even against a wind of some forty miles an hour.

This shows what an influence the tides and currents have in comparison

with the winds, for just at this time we are having very big tides. It

was blowing and drifting all the morning, and the tide was flowing in,

pressing the ice in under the ice-foot to such an extent that later it

remained there, though the tide was ebbing and a strong southerly was

blowing."[282] Incidentally the bergs which were grounded in our

neighbourhood were shifted and broken about considerably by these high

winds: also the meteorological screen placed on the Ramp the year before

was broken from its upright, which had snapped in the middle, and must

have been taken up into the air and so out to sea, for there was no trace

of it to be found: Wright lost two doors placed over the entrance to the

magnetic cave: when he lifted them they were taken out of his hands by

the wind, and disappeared into the air and were never seen again.

[Illustration: NORTH BAY AND THE BARNE GLACIER]

So ready was the sea to freeze that there can be little doubt that it

already contained large numbers of ice crystals, and time and again I

have stood upon the ice-foot watching the tongues of the winds licking up

the waters as they roared their way out to sea. Then, with no warning,

there would come, suddenly and completely, a lull. And there would be a

film of ice, covering the surface of the sea, come so quickly that all

you could say was that it was not there before and it was there now. And

then down would come the wind again and it was gone. Once when the winter

had gone and daylight had returned I stood upon the end of the cape, the

air all calm around me, and there, half-a-mile away, a full blizzard was

blowing: the islands, and even the berg between Inaccessible Island

and the cape, were totally obscured in the thickest drift: the top of the

drift, which was very distinct, thinned to show dimly the crest of

Inaccessible Island: Turk's Head was visible and Erebus quite clear. In

fact I was just on the edge of a thick blizzard, blowing down the Strait,

the side showing as a perpendicular wall about 500 feet high and

travelling, I should say, about 40 miles an hour. A roar came out from it

of the wind and waves.

The weather conditions were extraordinarily local, as another experience

will show. Atkinson and Dimitri were off to Hut Point with the dogs,

carrying biscuit and pemmican for the coming Search Journey: I went with

them some way, and then left them to place a flag upon the end of Glacier

Tongue for surveying purposes. It was clear and bright, and it was easy

to get a sketch of the bearings of the islands from this position, which

showed how great a portion of the Tongue must have broken off in the

autumn of 1911. I anticipated a pleasant walk home, but was somewhat

alarmed when heavy wind and drift came down from the direction of the

Hutton Cliffs. Wearing spectacles, and being unable to see without them,

I managed to steer with difficulty by the sun which still showed dimly

through the drift. It was amazing suddenly to walk out of the wall of

drift into light airs at Little Razorback Island. One minute it was

blowing and drifting hard and I could see almost nothing, the next it was

calm, save for little whirlwinds of snow formed by eddies of air drawn in

from the north. In another three hundred yards the wind was blowing from

the north. On this day Atkinson found wind force 8 and temperature -17°

at Hut Point: at Cape Evans the temperature was zero and men were sitting

on the rocks and smoking in the sun. Many instances might be given to

show how local our weather conditions often were.

There was a morning some time in the middle of the winter when we awoke

to one of our usual tearing blizzards. We had had some days of calm, and

the ice had frozen sufficiently for the fish-trap to be lowered again.

But that it would not stand much of this wind was obvious, and after

breakfast Atkinson stuck out his jaw and said he wasn't going to lose

another trap for any dash blizzard. He and Keohane sallied forth on to

the ice, lost to our sight immediately in the darkness and drift. They

got it, but arrived on the cape in quite a different place, and we were

glad to see them back. Soon afterwards the ice blew out.

Much credit is due to the mule leaders that they were able to exercise

their animals without hurt. Cape Evans in the dark, strewn with great

boulders, with the open sea at your feet, is no easy place to manage a

very high-spirited and excitable mule, just out of a warm stable,

especially if this is his first outing for several days and the wind is

blowing fresh, and you are not sure if your face is frost-bitten, and you

are quite sure that your hands are. But the exercise was carried out

without mishap. The mules themselves were most anxious to go out, and

when Pyaree developed a housemaid's knee and was kept in, she revenged

herself upon her more fortunate companions by biting each one hard as it

passed her head on its way to and from the door. Gulab was the biggest

handful, and Williamson managed him with skill: some of them, especially

Lal Khan, were very playful, running round and round their leaders and

stopping to paw the ground: Khan Sahib, on the other hand, was bored,

yawning continually: it was suggested that he was suffering from polar

ennui! Altogether they reflected the greatest credit upon Lashly, who

groomed them every day and took the greatest care of them. They were

subject to the most violent fits of jealousy, being much disturbed if a

rival got undue attention. The dog Vaida, however, was good friends with

them all, going down the line and rubbing noses with them in their

stalls.

The food of the mules was based upon that given by Oates to the ponies

the year before, and the results were successful.

The accommodation given to the dogs in the Terra Nova on the way south is

open to criticism. As the reader may remember, they were chained on the

top of the deck cargo on the main deck, and of course had a horrible

time during the gale, and any subsequent bad weather, which did not

however last very long. But it was quite impossible to put them anywhere

else, for every square inch between decks was so packed that even our

personal belongings for more than two years were reduced to one small

uniform case. Any seaman will easily understand that to build houses or

shelters on deck over and above what we had already was out of the

question. As a matter of fact I doubt whether the dogs had a worse time

than we during that gale. In good weather at sea, and at all times in the

pack, they were comfortable enough. But future explorers might consider

whether they can give their dogs more shelter during the winter than we

were able to do. Amundsen, whose Winter Quarters were on the Barrier

itself, and who experienced lower temperatures and very much less wind

than was our lot at Cape Evans, had his dogs in tents, and let them run

loose in the camp during the day. Tents would have gone in the winds we

experienced, and I have explained that we had no snow in which we could

make houses, as was done by Amundsen in the Barrier.

Our more peaceable dogs were allowed to run loose, especially during this

last winter, at the beginning of which we also built a dog hospital. We

should have liked to loose them all, but if we did so they immediately

flew at one another's throats. We might perhaps have let them loose if we

had first taken the precaution Amundsen took, and muzzled all of them

before doing so. The sport of fighting, so his dogs discovered, lost all

its charm when they found they could not taste blood, and they gave it

up, and ran about unmuzzled and happy. But the slaughter among the seals

and penguins would have been horrible with us, and many dogs might have

been carried away on the breaking sea-ice. The tied-up ones lay under the

lee of a line of cases, each in his own hole. They curled up quite snugly

buried in the snowdrift when blizzards were blowing, and lay exactly in

the same way when sledging on the Barrier, the first duty of the

dog-driver after pitching his own tent being to dig holes for each of his

dogs. It may be that these conditions are more natural to them than any

other, and that they are warmer when covered by the drifted snow than

they would be in any unwarmed shelter: but this I doubt. At any rate they

throve exceedingly under these rigorous conditions, soon becoming fat and

healthy after the hardest sledge journeys, and their sledging record is a

very fine one. We could not have built them a hut; as it was, we left our

magnetic hut, a far smaller affair, in New Zealand, for there was no room

to stow it on the ship. I would not advise housing dogs in a hut built

with a lean-to roof as an annexe to the main living-hut, but this would

be one way of doing it if you are prepared to stand the noise and smell.

The dog-biscuits, provided by Spratt, weighed 8 oz. each, and their

sledging ration was 1½ lbs. a day, given to them after they reached the

night camp. We made seal pemmican for them and tried this when sledging,

as an occasional variation on biscuit, but they did not thrive on this

diet. The oil in the biscuits caused purgation, as also did the pemmican:

the fat was partly undigested and the excreta were eaten. The ponies also

ate their excreta at times. Certain dogs were confirmed leather eaters,

and we carried chains for them: on camping, these dogs were taken out of

their canvas and raw-hide harnesses, and attached to the sledge by the

chains, care being taken that they could not get at the food on the

sledge. When sledging, Amundsen gave his dogs pemmican but I do not know

what else: he also fed dog to dog: I do not know whether we could have

fed dog to dog, for ours were Siberian dogs which, I am told, will not

eat one another. At Amundsen's winter quarters he gave them seal's flesh

and blubber one day, and dried fish the next.[283] On the long voyage

south in the Fram, he fed his dogs on dried fish, and three times a week

gave them a porridge of dried fish, tallow, and maize meal boiled

together.[284] At Cape Evans or at Hut Point our dogs were given plenty

of biscuit some evenings, and plenty of fresh frozen seal at other times.

Our worst trouble with the dogs came from far away--probably from Asia.

There are references in Scott's diary to four dogs as attacked by a

mysterious disease during our first year in the South: one of these dogs

died within two minutes. We lost many more dogs the last year, and

Atkinson has given me the following memorandum upon the parasite, a

nematode worm, which was discovered later to be the cause of the trouble:

"_Filaria immitis._--A certain proportion of the dogs became infected

with this nematode, and it was the cause of their death, mainly in the

second year. It was present at the time the expedition started (1910) all

down the Pacific side of Asia and Papua, and there was an examination

microscopically of all dogs imported at this time into New Zealand. The

secondary host is the mosquito Culex.

"The symptoms varied. The onset was usually with intense pain, during

which the animal yelled and groaned: this was cardiac in origin and

referable to the presence of the mature form in the beast. There was

marked haematuria, and the animals were anaemic from actual loss of

haemoglobins. In nearly all cases there was paralysis affecting the

hindquarters during the later stages, which tended to spread upwards and

finally ended in death.

"The probable place of infection was Vladivostok before the dogs were put

on board ship and deported to New Zealand. The only method of coping with

the disease is prevention of infection in infected areas. It is probable

that the mosquitoes would not bite after the dog's coat had been rubbed

with paraffin: or mosquito netting might be placed over the kennels,

especially at night time. The larval forms were found microscopically in

the blood, and one mature form in the heart."

We were too careful about killing animals. I have explained how

Campbell's party was landed at Evans Coves. Some of the party wanted to

kill some seals on the off chance of the ship not turning up to relieve

them. This was before they were in any way alarmed. But it was decided

that life might be taken unnecessarily if they did this--and that winter

this party nearly died of starvation. And yet this country has allowed

penguins to be killed by the million every year for Commerce and a

farthing's worth of blubber.

We never killed unless it was necessary, and what we had to kill was used

to the utmost both for food and for the scientific work in hand. The

first Emperor penguin we ever saw at Cape Evans was captured after an

exciting chase outside the hut in the middle of a blizzard. He kept us

busy for days: the zoologist got a museum skin, showing some variation

from the usual coloration, a skeleton, and some useful observation on the

digestive glands: the parasitologist got a new tape-worm: we all had a

change of diet. Many a pheasant has died for less.

There were plenty of Weddell seal round us this winter, but they kept out

of the wind and in the water for the most part. The sea is the warm place

of the Antarctic, for the temperature never falls below about 29° Fahr.,

and a seal which has been lying out on the ice in a minus thirty

temperature, and perhaps some wind, must feel, as he slips into the sea,

much the same sensations as occur to us when we walk out of a cold

English winter day into a heated conservatory. On the other hand, a

seaman went out into North Bay to bathe from a boat, in the full sun of a

mid-summer day, and he was out almost as soon as he was in. One of the

most beautiful sights of this winter was to see the seals, outlined in

phosphorescent light, swimming and hunting in the dark water.

We had lectures, but not as many as during the previous winter when they

became rather excessive: and we included outside subjects. We read in

many a polar book of the depressions and trials of the long polar night;

but thanks to gramophones, pianolas, variety of food, and some study of

the needs both of mind and body, we suffered very little from the first

year's months of darkness. There is quite a store of novelty in living in

the dark: most of us I think thoroughly enjoyed it. But a second winter,

with some of your best friends dead, and others in great difficulties,

perhaps dying, when all is unknown and every one is sledged to a

standstill, and blizzards blow all day and all night, is a ghastly

experience. This year there was not one of our company who did not

welcome the return of the sun with thankfulness: all the more so since he

came back to a land of blizzards and made many of our difficulties more

easy to tackle. Those who got little outside exercise were more affected

by the darkness than others. This last year, of course, the difficulties

of getting sufficient outdoor exercise were much increased. Variety is

important to the man who travels in polar regions: at all events those

who went away on sledging expeditions stood the life more successfully

than those whose duties tied them to the neighbourhood of the hut.

Other things being equal, the men with the greatest store of nervous

energy came best through this expedition. Having more imagination, they

have a worse time than their more phlegmatic companions; but they get

things done. And when the worst came to the worst, their strength of mind

triumphed over their weakness of body. If you want a good polar traveller

get a man without too much muscle, with good physical tone, and let his

mind be on wires--of steel. And if you can't get both, sacrifice physique

and bank on will.

* * * * *

NOTE

A lecture given at this time by Wright on Barrier Surfaces is especially

interesting with relation to the Winter Journey and the tragedy of the

Polar Party. The general tend of friction set up by a sledge-runner upon

snow of ordinary temperature may be called true _sliding_ friction: it is

probable that the runners melt to an infinitesimal degree the millions of

crystal points over which they glide: the sledge is running upon water.

Crystals in such temperatures are larger and softer than those

encountered in low temperatures. It is now that halos may be seen in the

snow, almost reaching to your feet as you pull, and moving forward with

you: we steered sometimes by keeping these halos at a certain angle to

us. My experience is that the best pulling surface is at an air

temperature of about +17° Fahr.: Wright's experience is that below +5°

during summer temperatures on the Barrier the surface is fairly good,

that between +5° and +15° less good, and between +15° and +25° best. The

worst is from +25° upwards, the worst of all being round about freezing

point.

As the temperature became high the amount of ice melted by this sliding

friction was excessive. It was then that we found ice forming upon the

runners, often in almost microscopic amounts, but nevertheless causing

the sledges to drag seriously. Thus on the Beardmore we took enormous

care to keep our runners free from ice, by scraping them at every halt

with the back of our knives. This ice is perhaps formed when the runners

sink into the snow to an unusual depth, at which the temperature of the

snow is sufficiently low to freeze the water previously formed by

friction or radiation from the sun on to a dark runner.

In very low temperatures the snow crystals become very small and very

hard, so hard that they will scratch the runners. The friction set up by

runners in such temperatures may be known as _rolling_ friction, and the

effect, as experienced by us during the Winter Journey and elsewhere, is

much like pulling a sledge over sand. This rolling friction is that of

snow crystal against snow crystal.

If the barometer is rising you get flat crystals on the ice, if it is

falling you get mirage and a blizzard. When you get mirage the air is

actually coming out of the Barrier. Thus far Wright's lecture.

Since we returned I have had a talk with Nansen about the sledge-runners

which he recommends to the future explorer. The ideal sledge-runner

combines lightness and strength. He tells me that he would always have

metal runners in high temperatures in which they will run better than

wood. In cold temperatures wood is necessary. Metal is stronger than wood

with same weight. He has never used, but he suggests the possible use of,

aluminium or magnesium for the metal. And he would also have wooden

runners with metal runners attached, to be used alternately, if needed.

The Discovery Expedition used German silver, and it failed: Nansen

suggests that the failure was due to the fact that these runners were

fitted at home. The effect of this is that the wood shrinks and the

German silver is not quite flat: the fitting should be done on the spot.

Nansen did this himself on the Fram, and the result was excellent. [I

believe that these Discovery runners were not a continuous strip of metal

but were built up in strips, which tore at the points of junction.]

Before it is fitted, German silver should be heated red hot and allowed

to cool. This makes it more ductile, like lead, and therefore less

springy: the metal should be as thin as possible.

As runners melt the crystals and so run on water, metal is unsuitable for

cold snow. For low temperatures, therefore, Nansen would have wooden

runners under the metal, the metal being taken off when cold conditions

obtained. He would choose such wood as is the best conductor of heat. He

tried birch wood in the first crossing of Greenland, but would not

recommend it as being too easily broken. In the use of oak, ash, maple,

and doubtless also hickory, for runners, the rings of growth of the tree

should be as far apart as possible: that is to say, they should be fast

growing. Ash with narrow rings breaks. There is ash and ash: American ash

is no good for this purpose; some Norwegian ash is useful, and some not.

Our own sledges with ash runners varied enormously. The runners of a

sledge should curve slightly, the centre being nearest to the snow. The

runners of ski should curve also slightly, in this case upwards in the

centre, i.e. from the snow. This is done by the way the wood is cut.

Wood always dries with the curve from the heart towards the outside of

the tree.

During our last year we had six new Norwegian sledges twelve feet long,

brought down by the ship, with tapered runners of hickory which were 3¾

inches broad in the fore part and 2¼ inches only at the stern. I believe

that this was an idea of Scott, who considered that the broad runner in

front would press down a path for the tapered part which followed, the

total area of friction being much less. We took one of them into South

Bay one morning and tried it against an ordinary sledge, putting 490 lbs.

on each of them. The surface included fairly soft as well as harder and

more rubbly going. There was no difference of opinion that the sledge

with the tapered runners pulled easier, and later we used these sledges

on the Barrier with great success.

If some instrument could be devised to test sledges in this way it would

be of very great service. No team of men can make an exact estimate of

the run of their own sledge, let alone the sledge which your pony or your

dogs are pulling. Yet sledges vary enormously, and it would be an

excellent thing for a leader to be able to test his sledges before buying

them, and also to be able to pick out the best for his more important

sledge journeys. I believe it can be done by attaching some kind of

balance between the sledge and the men pulling it.

Other points mentioned by Nansen are as follows:

Tarred ski are good: the snow does not stick so much. [This probably

refers to the Norwegian compound known as Fahrt.] But he does not

recommend tarred runners for sledges. Having had experience of a tent of

Chinese silk which would go into his pocket but was very cold, he

recommends a double tent, the inner lining being detached so that ice

could be shaken from both coverings. He suggests the possibility of a

woollen lining being warmer than cotton or silk or linen. I am, however,

of opinion that wool would collect more moisture from the cooker, and it

certainly would be far more difficult to shake off the ice. For four men

he would have two two-men sleeping-bags and a central pole coming down

between them, and the floor-cloth made in one piece with the tent. For

three men a three-man sleeping-bag: e.g. for such a journey as our

Winter Journey. He would not brush rime, formed upon the tent by the

steam from the cooker and breath, from the inside of tent before striking

camp. The more of it the warmer. He considers that two- or three-men

sleeping-bags are infinitely warmer than single bags: objections of

discomfort are overcome, for you are so tired you go to sleep anyway. I

would, however, recommend the explorer to read Scott's remarks upon the

same subject before making up his mind.[285]

FOOTNOTES:

[280] My own diary.

[281] My own diary.

[282] My own diary.

[283] See Amundsen, _The South Pole_, vol. i. p. 264.

[284] Ibid. vol. i. p. 119.

[285] Scott, _Voyage of the Discovery_, vol. i. pp. 480-487.

CHAPTER XV

ANOTHER SPRING

O to dream, O to awake and wander

There, and with delight to take and render,

Through the trance of silence,

Quiet breath;

Lo! for there among the flowers and grasses,

Only the mightier movement sounds and passes;

Only winds and rivers,

Life and death.

The flowers were of snow, the rivers of ice, and if Stevenson had been to

the Antarctic he would have made them so.

God sent His daylight to scatter the nightmares of the darkness. I can

remember now the joy of an August day when the sun looked over the rim of

the Barne Glacier, and my shadow lay clear-cut upon the snow. It was

wonderful what a friendly thing that ice-slope became. We put the first

trace upon the sunshine recorder; there was talk of expeditions to Cape

Royds and Hut Point, and survey parties; and we ate our luncheon by the

daylight which shone through the newly cleared window.

The coming Search Journey was organized to reach the Upper Glacier Depôt,

and the plans were modelled upon the Polar Journey of the year before.

But now we had no extensive depôts on the Barrier. It was intended that

the dogs should run two trips out to Corner Camp during this spring. It

was hoped that two parties of four men each might be able to ascend the

Beardmore, one of them remaining about half-way up and doing geological

and other scientific work while the other went up to the top.

In our inmost thoughts we were full of doubts and fears. "I had a long

talk with Lashly, who asked me what I candidly thought had happened to

the Southern Party. I told him a crevasse. He says he does not think so:

he thinks it is scurvy. Talking about crevasses he says that, on the

return of the Second Return Party, they came right over the ice-falls

south of Mount Darwin,--descending about 2000 feet into a great valley,

down which they travelled towards the west, and so to the Upper Glacier

Depôt. I believe Scott told Evans (Lieut.) that he meant to come back

this same way."

"Then the stuff they got into above the Cloudmaker must have been

horrible. 'Why, there are places there you could put St. Paul's into, and

that's no exaggeration, neither,' and they spent two nights in it. All

the way down to the Gateway he says there were crevasses, great big

fellows thirty feet across, which we of the First Return Party had

crossed both going and coming back and which we never saw. But then much

of the snow had gone and they were visible. Lieut. Evans was very badly

snowblind most of this time. Then outside the Gateway, on the Barrier,

they crossed many crevasses, and some had fallen in where we had passed

over them."

"This makes one think. Is the state of affairs in which we found the

glacier an extraordinary one, the snow being a special phenomenon due to

that great blizzard and snowfall? Are we going to find blue ice this year

where we found thick soft snow last? Well! I have got a regular bad

needle again, just as I have had before. But somehow the needle has

always worked off when we get right into it. What a blessing it is that

things are seldom as bad in the reality as you expect they are going to

be in your imagination: though I must say the Winter Journey was worse

even than I had imagined. I remember that this time last year the thought

of the Beardmore was very terrible: but the reality was never very bad."

"Lashly thinks it would be practically impossible for five men to

disappear down a crevasse. Where three men got through (and he said it

would be impossible to get worse stuff than they came through), five men

would be still better off. This is not my view, however. I think that the

extra weight of one man might make all the difference in crossing a big

crevasse: and if several men fell through one of those great bridges when

sledge and men were all on it, I do not think the bridge would hold the

sledge."[286]

Several trips were made to Cape Royds over the Barne Glacier, and then by

portaging over the rocks to Shackleton's old hut. The sea was open here,

except for small niches of ice, and the hut and the cape were

comparatively free from drifts; probably the open water had swallowed the

drifting snow. Not so Hut Point, which was surrounded by huge drifts: the

verandah which we had built up as a stable was filled from floor to roof:

there was no ice-foot to be seen, only a long snow-slope from the door to

the sea-level. The hut itself, when we had dug our way into it, was

clear. We took down stores for the Search Journey, and brought back with

us the only surviving sledge-meter.

These instruments, which indicate by a clockwork arrangement the distance

travelled in miles and yards, are actuated by a wheel which runs behind

the sledge. They are of the greatest possible use, especially when

sledging out of sight of land on the Barrier or Plateau, and we bitterly

regretted that we had no more. They do not have an easy time on a

glacier, and we lost the mechanism of one of our three Polar Journey

meters when on the Beardmore. Dog-driving is hard on them; and

pony-driving when the ponies are like Christopher plays the very deuce.

Anyway we found we had only one left for this year, and this was more or

less a dud. It was mended so far as possible but was never really

reliable, and latterly was useless. A lot of trouble was taken by Lashly

to make another with a bicycle wheel from one of our experimental trucks,

the revolutions of which were marked on a counter which was almost

exactly similar to one of our anemometer registers. A bicycle wheel of

course stood much higher than our proper sledge-meters, and a difficulty

rose in fixing it to the sledge so as to prevent its wobbling and at the

same time allow it the necessary amount of play.

Meanwhile the mules were being brought on in condition. With daylight and

improved weather they were exercised with loaded sledges on the sea-ice

which still remained in South Bay. They went like lambs, and were

evidently used to the work. Gulab was a troublesome little animal: he had

no objection to pulling a sledge, but was just ultra-timid. Again and

again he was got into position for having his traces hitched on, and each

time some little thing, the flapping of a mitt, the touch of the trace,

or the feel of the bow of the sledge, frightened him and he was off, and

the same performance had to be repeated. Once harnessed he was very good.

The breast harness sent down for them by the Indian Government was used:

it was excellent; though Oates, I believe, had an idea that collars were

better. However, we had not got the collars. The mules themselves looked

very fit and strong: our only doubt was whether their small hoofs would

sink into soft snow even farther than the ponies had done.

No record of this expedition would be complete without some mention of

the cases of fire which occurred. The first was in the lazarette of the

ship on the voyage to Cape Town: it was caused by an overturned lamp and

easily extinguished. The second was during our first winter in the

Antarctic, when there was a fire in the motor shed, which was formed by

full petrol cases built up round the motors, and roofed with a tarpaulin.

This threatened to be more serious, but was also put out without much

difficulty. The third and fourth cases were during the winter which had

just passed, and were both inside Winter Quarters.

Wright wanted a lamp to heat a shed which he was building out of cases

and tarpaulins for certain of his work. He brought a lamp (not a primus)

into the hut, and tried to make it work. He spent some time in the

morning on this, and after lunch Nelson joined him. The lamp was fitted

with an indicator to show the pressure obtained by pumping. Nelson was

pumping, kneeling at the end of the table next the bulkhead which divided

the officers' and men's quarters: his head was level with the lamp, and

the indicator was not showing a high pressure. Wright was standing close

by. Suddenly the lamp burst, a rent three inches long appearing in the

join where the bottom of the oil reservoir is fitted to the rest of the

bowl. Twenty places were alight immediately, clothing, bedding, papers

and patches of burning oil were all over the table and floor. Luckily

everybody was in the hut, for it was blowing a blizzard and minus twenty

outside. They were very quick, and every outbreak was stopped.

On September 5 it was blowing as if it would rip your wind-clothes off

you. We were bagging pemmican in the hut when some one said, "Can you

smell burning?" At first we could not see anything wrong, and Gran said

it must be some brown paper he had burnt; but after three or four

minutes, looking upwards, we saw that the top of the chimney piping was

red hot where it went out through the roof, as was also a large

ventilator trap which entered the flue at this point. We put salt down

from outside, and the fire seemed to die down, but shortly afterwards the

ventilator trap fell on to the table, leaving a cake of burning soot

exposed. This luckily did not fall, and we raked it down into buckets.

About a quarter of an hour afterwards all the chimney started blazing

again, the flames shooting up into the blizzard outside. We got this out

by pushing snow in at the top, and holding baths and buckets below to

catch the débris. We then did what we ought to have done at the beginning

of the winter--took the piping down and cleaned it all out.

Our last fire was a little business. Debenham and I were at Hut Point. I

noticed that the place was full of smoke, which was quite usual with a

blubber fire, but afterwards we found that the old hut was alight between

the two roofs. The inner roof was too shaky to allow one to walk on it,

and so, at Debenham's suggestion, we bent a tube which was lying about

and syphoned some water up with complete success. Our more usual fire

extinguishers were Minimax, and they left nothing to be desired: indeed,

all they left were the acid stains on the material touched.

From such grim considerations it is a pleasure to turn to the out-of-door

life we now led. Emperor penguins began to visit us in companies up to

forty in number: probably they were birds whose maternal or paternal

instincts had been thwarted at Cape Crozier and had now taken to a

vagrant life. They suffered, I am afraid, from the loose dogs, and on one

occasion Debenham was out on the sea-ice with a team of those dogs of

ours which were useless for serious sledging. He had taken them in hand

and formed a team which was very creditable to him, if not to themselves.

On this occasion he had managed with great difficulty to restrain them

from joining a company of Emperors. The dogs were frantic, the Emperors

undisturbed. Unable to go himself, one dog called Little Ginger

unselfishly bit through the harness which restrained two of his

companions, and Debenham, helplessly holding the straining sledge, could

only witness the slaughter, which followed.

The first skua gull arrived on October 24, and we knew they would soon

breed on any level gravel or rock free from snow; and we should see the

Antarctic petrels again, and perhaps a rare snowy petrel; and the first

whales would be finding their way into McMurdo Sound. Also the Weddells,

the common coastal seals of the Antarctic, were now, in the beginning of

October, leaving the open water and lying out on the ice. They were

nearly all females, and getting ready to give birth to their young.

The Weddell seal is black on top, and splashed with silver in other

places. He measures up to 10 feet from nose to tail, eats fish, is

corpulent and hulking. He sometimes carries four inches of blubber. On

the ice he is one of the most sluggish of God's creatures, he sleeps

continually, digests huge meals, and grunts, gurgles, pipes, trills and

whistles in the most engaging way. In the sea he is transformed into one

of the most elastic and lithe of beasts, catching his fish and swallowing

them whole. As you stand over his blow-hole his head appears, and he

snorts at you with surprise but no fear, opening and shutting his

nostrils the while as he takes in a supply of fresh air. It is clear that

they travel for many miles beneath the ice, and I expect they find their

way from air-hole to air-hole by listening to the noise made by other

seals. Some of the air-holes are exit and entrance holes as well, and I

found at least one seal which appeared to have died owing to its opening

freezing up. They may be heard at times grinding these holes open with

their teeth (Ponting took some patient cinematographs showing the process

of sawing the openings to these wells) and their teeth are naturally much

worn by the time they become old. Wilson states that they are liable to

kidney trouble: their skin is often irritable, which may be due to the

drying salt from the sea; and I have seen one seal which was covered with

a suppurating rash. Their spleens are sometimes enormously enlarged when

they first come out of the sea on to the ice, which is interesting

because no one seems to know much about spleens. Speculation was caused

amongst us by the fact that some of these air-holes had as it were a

trap-door above them. One day I was on the ice-foot at Cape Evans at a

time when North Bay was frozen over with about an inch or more of ice. A

seal suddenly poked his nose up through this ice to get air, and when he

disappeared a slab which had been raised by his head fell back into this

trap position. Clearly this was the origin of the door.

Weddell seals and the Hut Point life are inextricably mixed up in my

recollections of October. Atkinson, Debenham, Dimitri and I went down to

Hut Point on the 12th, with the two dog-teams. We were to run two depôts

out on to the Barrier, and Debenham, whose leg prevented his further

sledging, was to do geological work and a plane table survey. Those of us

who had borne the brunt of the travelling of the two previous sledge

seasons were sick of sledging. For my own part I confess I viewed the

whole proceedings with distaste, and I have no doubt the others did too;

but the job had to be done if possible, and there was no good in saying

we were sick of it. From beginning to end of this year men not only

laboured willingly, but put their hearts and souls into the work. To have

to do another three months' journey seemed bad enough, and to leave our

comfortable Winter Quarters three weeks before we started on that journey

was an additional irritation. We ran down in surface drift: it was thick

to the south, the wind bit our faces and hands; we could see nothing by

the time we got in, and the snow was falling heavily. The stable was full

of beastly snow, the hut was cold and cheerless, and there was no blubber

for the stove. And if we had only taken the ship and gone home when the

period for which we had joined was passed, we might have been in London

for the last six months!

But then the snow stopped, the wind went down, and the mountain tops

appeared in all their glorious beauty. We were in the middle of a perfect

summer afternoon, with a warm sun beating on the rocks as we walked round

to Pram Point. There were many seals here already, and it was clear that

the place would form a jolly nursery this year, for there must have been

a lot of movement on the Barrier and the sea-ice was seamed with pressure

ridges up to twenty feet in height. The hollows were buckled until the

sea water came up and formed frozen ponds which would thaw later into

lovely baths. Sheltered from the wind the children could chase their

ridiculous tails to their hearts' content: their mothers would lie and

sleep, awakening every now and then to scratch themselves with their long

finger-nails. Not quite yet, but they were not far away: Lappy, one of

our dogs who always looked more like a spaniel than anything else, heard

one under the ice and started to burrow down to him!

Nearly three weeks later I paid several more visits to this delightful

place. It was thick with seals, big seals and little seals, hairy seals

and woolly seals: every day added appreciably to the number of babies,

and to the baaings and bleatings which made the place sound like a great

sheepfold. In every case where I approached, the mothers opened their

mouths and bellowed at me to keep away, but they did not come for me

though I actually stroked one baby. Often when the mother bellowed the

little one would also open his mouth, producing just the ghost of a

bellow: not because he seemed afraid of us, but rather because he

thought it was the right thing to do: as indeed it probably was. One old

cow was marked with hoops all round her body, like an advertisement of

Michelin tyres: only the hoops were but an inch apart from one another,

and seemed to be formed by darker and longer bands of hair: probably

something to do with the summer moult. Two cows, which scrambled out of

the same hole one after the other, were fighting, the hinder one biting

the other savagely as she made an ungainly entrance. The first was not in

calf, the aggressor, however, was: this may have had something to do with

it. They were both much cut about and bleeding.

A seal is never so pretty as when he is a baby. With his grey woolly

coat, which he keeps for a fortnight, his comparatively long flippers and

tail, and his big dark eyes, he looks very clean and pussy-like. I

watched one running round and round after his tail, putting his flipper

under his head as a pillow, and scratching himself, seemingly as happy as

possible: yet it was pretty cold with some wind.

Little is known of the lighter side of a Weddell's life. It seems

probable that their courtship is a ponderous affair. About October 26

Atkinson found an embryo of about a fortnight old, which is an

interesting stage, and this was preserved with many others we found, but

all of them were too old to be of any real value. I think there is a good

deal of variation in the size of the calves at birth. There is certainly

much difference between the care of individual mothers, some of which are

most concerned when you approach, while others take little notice or lop

away from you, leaving their calf to look after itself, or to find

another mother. Sometimes they are none too careful not to roll or lie on

their calves.

One afternoon I drove a bull seal towards a cow with a calf. The cow went

for him bald-headed, with open mouth, bellowing and most disturbed. The

bull defended himself as best he might but absolutely refused to take the

offensive. The calf imitated his mother as best he could.

Meanwhile Atkinson and Dimitri took some mule-fodder and dog-biscuit to a

point twelve miles south of Corner Camp. They started on October 14 with

the two dog-teams and found a most terrible surface on the Barrier, the

sledges sometimes sinking as far as the 'fore-and-afters'; the minimum

temperatures the first two nights were -39° and -25°; strong blizzard at

Corner Camp; a lie-up for a day and a half, before they could push on in

wind and drift and lay the depôt. The dogs ran back from Corner Camp to

Hut Point on October 19, a distance of thirty miles. Three miles from

Corner Camp three dogs of Atkinson's team fell into a crevasse, one of

them falling right down to the length of his harness. The rest of the

team, however, pulled on, and dragged the three dogs out as they went.

Atkinson lost his driving-stick, which was left standing in the snow and

served to mark a place to be avoided. Altogether a rather lucky escape:

two men out alone with two dog-teams are somewhat helpless in case of

emergency.

On October 25 Dimitri and I started to take a further depôt out to Corner

Camp with the two dog-teams, pulling about 600 lbs. each. We found a much

better surface than that experienced by Atkinson; in places really smooth

and hard. "It is good to be out again in such weather, and it has been a

very pleasant day." The minimum was only -24° that night, and we reached

Corner Camp on the afternoon of the next day, following the old tracks

where possible, and halting occasionally to hunt when we lost them. "Here

we made the depôt and the dogs had a rest of 3½ hours, and two biscuits.

It was quaint to see them waiting for more food, for they knew they had

not had their full whack."[287]

There was plenty of evidence that the Barrier had moved a long way during

the last year. It had buckled up the sea-ice at Pram Point; there were at

least three new and well-marked undulations before reaching Corner Camp;

and the camp itself had moved visibly, judged by the bearings and

sketches we possessed. I believe the annual movement had not been less

than half a mile.

Corner Camp is a well-known trap for blizzards on the line of their exit

at Cape Crozier, and it was clouding up, the barometer falling, and the

temperature rising rapidly. "So we decided to come back some way, and

have in the end come right back to the Biscuit Depôt, since it looked

very threatening to the east. Here the temperature is lower (-15°) and it

is clearing. Ross Island has been largely obscured, but the clouds are

opening on Terror. We had a very good run and the dogs pulled splendidly,

making light work of it: 29 miles for the day, half of it with loaded

sledges! Lappy's feet are bleeding a good bit, owing to the snow balling

in between his toes where the hair is unusually long. Bullet, who is fat

and did not pull, celebrated his arrival in camp by going for Bielchik

who had pulled splendidly all day! There is much mirage, and Observation

Hill and Castle Rock are reversed."[288] We reached Hut Point the next

day. Lappy's feet were still bad, and Dimitri wrapped him in his

windproof blouse and strapped him on to the sledge. All went well until

we got on to the sea-ice, when Lappy escaped and arrived an easy first.

Dog-driving is the devil! Before I started, my language would not have

shamed a Sunday School, and now--if it were not Sunday I would tell you

more about it. It takes all kinds to make a world and a dog-team. We had

aristocrats like Osman, and Bolsheviks like Krisravitza, and lunatics

like Hol-hol. The present-day employer of labour might stand amazed when

he saw a crowd of prospective workmen go mad with joy at the sight of

their driver approaching them with a harness in his hands. The most

ardent trade unionist might boil with rage at the sight of eleven or

thirteen huskies dragging a heavy load, including their idle master, over

the floe with every appearance of intense joy. But truth to tell there

were signs that they were getting rather sick of it, and within a few

days we were to learn that dogs can chuck their paws in as well as many

another. They had their king, of course: Osman was that. They combined

readily and with immense effect against any companion who did not pull

his weight, or against one who pulled too much. Dyk was unpopular among

them, for when the team of which he was a member was halted he

constantly whined and tugged at his harness in his eagerness to go on:

this did not allow the rest of the team to rest, and they were

justifiably resentful. Sometimes a team got a down upon a dog without our

being able to discover their doggy reason. In any case we had to watch

carefully to prevent them carrying out their intentions, their method of

punishment always being the same and ending, if unchecked, in what they

probably called justice, and we called murder.

I have referred to the crusts on the Barrier, where the snow lies in

layers with an air-space, perhaps a quarter of an inch, or more, between

them. These will subside as you pass over them, giving the inexperienced

polar traveller some nasty moments until he learns that they are not

crevasses. But the dogs thought they were rabbits, and pounced, time

after time. There was a little dog called Mukaka, who got dragged under

the sledge in one of the mad penguin rushes the dog-teams made when we

were landing stores from the Terra Nova: his back was hurt and afterwards

he died. "He is paired with a fat, lazy and very greedy black dog, Noogis

by name, and in every march this sprightly little Mukaka will once or

twice notice that Noogis is not pulling and will jump over the trace,

bite Noogis like a snap, and be back again in his own place before the

fat dog knows what has happened."[289]

Then there was Stareek (which is the Russian for old man, starouka being

old woman). "He is quite a ridiculous 'old man,' and quite the nicest,

quietest, cleverest old dog I have ever come across. He looks in face as

though he knew all the wickedness of all the world and all its cares, and

as if he were bored to death by them."[290] He was the leader of Wilson's

team on the Depôt Journey, but decided that he was not going out again.

Thereafter when he thought there was no one looking he walked naturally;

but if he saw you looking at him he immediately had a frost-bitten paw,

limped painfully over the snow, and looked so pitiful that only brutes

like us could think of putting him to pull a sledge. We tried but he

refused to work, and his final victory was complete.

One more story: Dimitri is telling us how a "funny old Stareek" at Sydney

came and objected to his treatment of the dogs (which were more than half

wolves and would eat you without provocation). "He says to me, 'You not

whip'--I say, 'What ho!' He go and fetch Mr. Meares--he try put me in

choky. Then he go to Anton--give Anton cigarette and match--he say--'How

old that horse?' pointing to Hackenschmidt--Anton say, very young--he not

believe--he go try see Hackenschmidt's teeth--and old Starouka too--and

Hackenschmidt he draw back and he rush forward and bite old Stareek

twice, and he fall backwards over case--and ole woman pick him up. He

very white beard which went so--I not see him again."

FOOTNOTES:

[286] My own diary.

[287] My own diary.

[288] My own diary.

[289] Wilson's Journal, _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 616.

[290] Ibid.

CHAPTER XVI

THE SEARCH JOURNEY

From my own diary

Sleep after toyle, port after stormie seas,

Ease after warre, death after life, does greatly please.

SPENSER, _The Faerie Queen._

_October 28. Hut Point._ A beautiful day. We finished digging out the

stable for the mules this morning and brought in some blubber this

afternoon. The Bluff has its cap on, but otherwise the sky is nearly

clear: there is a little cumulus between White Island and the Bluff, the

first I have seen this year on the Barrier. It is most noticeable how

much snow has disappeared off the rocks and shingle here.

_October 29. Hut Point._ The mule party, under Wright, consisting of

Gran, Nelson, Crean, Hooper, Williamson, Keohane and Lashly, left Cape

Evans at 10.30 and arrived here at 5 P.M. after a good march in perfect

weather. They leave Debenham and Archer at the hut, and I am afraid it

will be dull work for them the next three months. Archer turned out early

and made some cakes which they have brought with them. They camped for

lunch seven miles from Cape Evans.

[Illustration: THE MULE PARTY LEAVES CAPE EVANS--October 29, 1912]

This is the start of the Search Journey. Everything which forethought can

do has been done, and to a point twelve miles south of Corner Camp the

mules will be travelling light owing to the depôts which have been laid.

The barometer has been falling the last few days and is now low, while

the Bluff is overcast. Yet it does not look like blizzard to come. Two

Adélie penguins, the first, came to Cape Evans yesterday, and a skua was

seen there on the 24th: so summer is really here.

_October 30. Hut Point._ It is now 8 P.M., and the mules are just off,

looking very fit, keeping well together, and giving no trouble at the

start. Their leaders turned in this afternoon, and to-night begins the

new routine of night marching, just the same as last year. It did look

thick on the Barrier this afternoon, and it was quite a question whether

it was advisable for them to start. But it is rolling away now, being

apparently only fog, which is now disappearing before some wind, or

perhaps because the sun is losing its power. I think they will have a

good march.

_November 2_, 5 A.M. _Biscuit Depôt._ Atkinson, Dimitri and I, with two

dog-teams, left Hut Point last night at 8.30. We have had a coldish

night's run, -21° when we left after lunch, -17° now. The surface was

very heavy for the dogs, there being a soft coating of snow over

everything since we last came this way, due no doubt to the foggy days we

have been having lately. The sledge-meter makes it nearly 16 miles.

The mule party has two days' start on us, and their programme is to do

twelve miles a day to One Ton Depôt. Their tracks are fairly clear, but

there has been some drift from the east since they passed. We picked up

our cairns well. We are pretty wet, having been running nearly all the

way.

_November 3._ Early morning. 14½ miles. We are here at Corner Camp, but

not without a struggle. We left the Biscuit Depôt at 6.30 P.M. yesterday,

and it is now 4 A.M. The last six miles took us four hours, which is very

bad going for dogs, and we have all been running most of the way. The

surface was very bad, crusty and also soft: it was blowing with some low

drift, and overcast and snowing. We followed the drifted-up mule tracks

with difficulty and are lucky to have got so far. The temperature has

been a constant zero.

There is a note here from Wright about the mules, which left here last

night. They only saw two small crevasses on the way, but Khan Sahib got

into the tide-crack at the edge of the Barrier, and had to be hauled out

with a rope. The mules are going fast over the first part of the day, but

show a tendency to stop towards the end: they keep well together except

Khan Sahib, who is a slower mule than the others. It is now blowing with

some drift, but nothing bad, and beyond the Bluff it seems to be clear.

We are all pretty tired.

_November 4. Early morning._ Well! this has been a disappointing day, but

we must hope that all will turn out well. We turned out at 2 A.M.

yesterday and then it was clearing all round, a mild blizzard having been

blowing since we camped. We started at five in some wind and low drift.

It was good travelling weather, and except for the first three miles the

surface has been fair to good, and the last part very good. Yet the dogs

could not manage their load, which according to programme should go up a

further 150 lbs. each team here at Dimitri Depôt. One of our dogs, Kusoi,

gave out, but we managed to get him along tied to the stern of the

sledge, because the team behind tried to get at him and he realized he

had better mend his ways. We camped for lunch when Tresor also was pretty

well done. We were then on a very good surface, but were often pushing

the sledge to get it along. The mule party were gone when we started

again, and probably did not see us. We came on to the depôt, but we

cannot hope to get along far on bad surfaces if we cannot get along on

good ones. The note left by Wright states that their sledge-meter has

proved useless, and this leaves all three parties of us with only one,

which is not very reliable now.

So it has been decided that the dogs must return from 80° 30´, or 81° at

the farthest, and instead of four mules, as was intended, going on from

there, five must go on instead. The dogs can therefore now leave behind

much of their own weights and take on the mules' weights instead. And

this is the part where the mules' weights are so heavy. Perhaps the new

scheme is the best, but it puts everything on the mules from 80° 30´: if

they will do it all is well: if they won't we have nothing to fall back

on.

_Midnight, November 4-5._ It has been blowing and drifting all day. We

turned out again at mid-day on the 4th, and re-made the depôt with what

we were to leave owing to the new programme. This is all rather sad, but

it can't be helped. It was then blowing a summer blizzard, and we were

getting frost-bitten when we started, following the mule tracks. There

were plenty of cairns for us to pick up, and with the lighter loads and a

very good surface we came along much better. Lunching at eight miles we

arrived just as the mule party had finished their hoosh preparatory to

starting, and it has been decided that the mules are not to go on

to-night, but we will all start marching together to-morrow.

The news from this party is on the whole good, not the least good being

that the sledge-meter is working again, though not very reliably. They

are marching well, and at a great pace, except for Khan Sahib. Gulab,

however, is terribly chafed both by his collar and by his breast harness,

both of which have been tried. He has a great raw place where this fits

on one side, and is chafed, but not so badly, on the other side. Lal Khan

is pulling well, but is eating very little. Pyaree is doing very well,

but has some difficulty in lifting her leg when in soft snow. Abdullah

seems to be considered the best mule at present. On the whole good

hearing.

Wright's sleeping-bag is bad, letting in light through cracks in a good

many places. But he makes very little of it and does not seem to be

cold--saying it is good ventilation. The mule cloths, which have a rough

lining to their outside canvas, are collecting a lot of snow, and all the

mules are matted with cakes of snow. They are terrible rope-eaters,

cloth-eaters, anything to eat, though they are not hungry. And they have

even learnt to pull their picketing buckles undone, and go walking about

the camp. Indeed Nelson says that the only time when Khan Sahib does not

cast himself adrift is when he is ready to start on the march.

_November 6. Early morning._ We had a really good lie-in yesterday, and

after the hard slogging with the dogs during the last few days I for one

was very glad of it. We came on behind, and in sight of the mules this

last march, and the change in the dogs was wonderful. Where it had been a

job to urge them on over quite as good a surface yesterday, to-day for

some time we could not get off the sledge except for short runs: although

we had taken 312 lbs. weight off the mules and loaded it on to the dogs.

We had a most glorious night for marching, and it is now bright sunlight,

and the animals' fur is quite warm where the sun strikes it. We have just

had a bit of a fight over the dog-food, Vaida going for Dyk, and now the

others are somewhat excited, and there are constant growlings and

murmurings.

The camp makes more of a mark than last year, for the mules are dark

while the ponies were white or grey, and the cloths are brown instead of

light green. The consequence is that the camp shows up from a long

distance off. We are building cairns at regular distances, and there

should be no difficulty in keeping on the course in fair weather at any

rate. Now in the land of big sastrugi: Erebus is beginning to look small,

but we could see an unusually big smoke from the crater all day.

_November 7. Early morning._ Not an easy day. It was -9° and overcast

when we turned out, and the wind was then dying down, but it had been

blowing up to force 5, with surface drift during the day. We started in a

bad light and the surface, which was the usual hard surface common here,

with big sastrugi, was covered by a thin layer of crystals which were

then falling. This naturally made it very much harder pulling: we with

the dogs have been running nearly all the twelve miles, and I for one am

tired. At lunch Atkinson thought he saw a tent away to our right,--the

very thought of it came as a shock,--but it proved to be a false alarm.

We have been keeping a sharp look-out for the gear which was left about

this part by the Last Return Party, but have seen no sign of it.

It is now -14°, but the sun is shining brightly in a clear sky, and it

feels beautifully warm. It seems a very regular thing for the sky to

cloud over as the sun gets low towards nightfall--and directly the sun

begins to rise again the clouds disappear in a most wonderful way.

_November 8. Early morning._ Last night's twelve miles was quite cold for

the time of year, being -23° at lunch and now -18°. But it is calm, with

bright sun, and this temperature feels warm. However, there are some

frost-bites as a result, both Nelson and Hooper having swollen faces. The

same powder and crystals have been on the surface, but we have carried

the good Bluff surface so far, being now four miles beyond Bluff Depôt.

This is fortunate, and to the best of my recollection we were already

getting on to a soft surface at this point last summer. If so there must

have been more wind here this year than last, which, according to the

winter we have had, seems probable.

We made up the Bluff Depôt after lunch, putting up a new flag and

building up the cairn, leaving two cases of dog-biscuit for the returning

dog-teams. It is curious that the drift to leeward of the cairn, that is

N.N.E., was quite soft, the snow all round and the drifts on either side

being hard--exceptionally hard in fact. Why this drift should remain soft

when a drift in the same place is usually hard is difficult to explain.

All is happy in the mule camp. They have given Lal a drink of water and

he has started to eat, which is good news. Some of the mules seem

snow-blind, and they are now all wearing their blinkers. I have just

heard that Gran swung the thermometer at four this morning and found it

-29°. Nelson's face is a sight--his nose a mere swollen lump,

frost-bitten cheeks, and his goggles have frosted him where the rims

touched his face. Poor Marie!

_November 9. Early morning._ Twelve more miles to the good, and we must

consider ourselves fortunate in still carrying on the same good surface,

which is almost if not quite as good as that of yesterday. This is the

only time I have ever seen a hard surface here, not more than fifteen

miles from One Ton, and it looks as if there had been much higher winds.

The sastrugi, which have been facing S.W., are now beginning to run a

little more westerly. I believe this to be quite a different wind

circulation from Ross Island, which as a whole gets its wind from the

Bluff. The Bluff is, I believe, the dividing line, though big general

blizzards sweep over the whole, irrespective of local areas of

circulation. This was amply corroborated by our journey out here last

autumn. Well, this is better than then--just round here we had a full

blizzard and -33°.