Shouldering their prize, they trudged on to Lusitania Bay, camping there

that night in an old dilapidated hut; a remnant of the sealing days.

Close by there was known to be a large rookery of King penguins; a

variety of penguin with richly tinted plumage on the head and shoulders,

and next in size to the Emperor--the sovereign bird of the Antarctic

Regions. The breeding season was at its height, so Harrisson secured and

preserved a great number of their eggs. Hutchinson kindly volunteered

to carry the albatross in addition to his original load. If they had

skinned the bird, the weight would have been materially reduced, but

with the meagre appliances at hand, it would undoubtedly have been

spoiled as a specimen. Hurley, very ambitiously, had taken a heavy

camera, in addition to a blanket and other sundries. During the rough

and wet walking of the previous day, his boots had worn out and caused

him to twist a tendon in the right foot, so that he was not up to his

usual form, while Harrisson was hampered with a bulky cargo of eggs and

specimens.

Saddled with these heavy burdens, the party found the return journey

very laborious. Hurley's leg set the pace, and so, later in the day,

Harrisson decided to push on ahead in order to give us news, as they

had orders to be back as soon as possible and were then overdue. When

darkness came on, Harrisson was near The Nuggets, where he passed the

night amongst the tussock-grass. Hurley and Hutchinson, who were five

miles behind, also slept by the wayside. When dawn appeared, Harrisson

moved on, reaching the north-end huts at about 9 A.M. Mertz and Whetter

immediately set out and came to the relief of the other two men a few

hours later.

Fatigue and the lame leg subdued Hurley for the rest of the day, but the

next morning he was off to get pictures of the "flying fox" in action.

It was practically impossible for him to walk to the top of the hill,

but not to be baffled, he sent the cinematograph machine up by the

"flying fox," and then followed himself. Long before reaching the top

he realized how much his integrity depended on the strength of the

hauling-line and the care of those on Wireless Hill.

During the latter part of our stay at the island, the wind veered to the

north and north-north-east. We took advantage of this change to steam

round to the east side, intending to increase our supply of fresh water

at The Nuggets, where a stream comes down the hillside on to the beach.

In this, however, we were disappointed, for the sea was breaking too

heavily on the beach, and so we steamed back to North-East Bay

and dropped anchor. Wild went off in the launch to search for a

landing-place but found the sea everywhere too formidable.

Signals were made to those on shore, instructing them to finish off the

work on the wireless plant, and to kill a dozen sheep--enough for our

needs for some days.

The ship was now found to be drifting, and, as the wind was blowing

inshore, the anchor was raised, and with the launch in tow we steamed

round to the calmer waters of Hasselborough Bay. At the north end of the

island, for several miles out to sea along the line of a submerged reef,

the northerly swell was found to be piling up in an ugly manner, and

occasioned considerable damage to the launch. This happened as the

'Aurora' swung around; a sea catching the launch and rushing it forward

so that it struck the stern of the ship bow-on, notwithstanding the fact

that several of the men exerted themselves to their utmost to prevent

a collision. On arrival at the anchorage, the launch was noticeably

settling down, as water had entered at several seams which had been

started.

After being partly bailed out, it was left in the water with Hodgeman

and Close aboard, as we wished to run ashore as soon as the weather

improved. Contrary to expectation the wind increased, and it was

discovered that the 'Aurora' was drifting rapidly, although ninety

fathoms of chain had been paid out. Before a steam-winch** was

installed, the anchor could be raised only by means of an antiquated

man-power lever-windlass. In this type, a see-saw-like lever is worked

by a gang of men at each extremity, and it takes a long time to get in

any considerable length of chain. The chorus and chanty came to our aid

once more, and the long hours of heaving on the fo'c'sle head were a

bright if strenuous spot in our memories of Macquarie Island. In course

of time, during which the ship steamed slowly ahead, the end came in

sight--'Vast heaving!--but the anchor was missing. This put us in an

awkward situation, for the stock of our other heavy anchor had already

been lost. There was no other course but to steam up and down waiting

for the weather to moderate. In the meantime, we had been too busy

to relieve Close and Hodgeman, who had been doing duty in the launch,

bailing for five hours, and were thoroughly soaked with spray. All hands

now helped with the tackle, and we soon had the launch on board in its

old position near the main hatch.

** Fitted on return to Sydney after the first Antarctic cruise.

These operations were unusually protracted for we were short handed; the

boatswain, some of the sailors and most of the land party being marooned

on shore. We were now anxious to get everybody on board and to be off.

The completion of their quarters was to be left to the Macquarie Island

party, and it was important that we should make the most of the southern

season. The wind blew so strongly, however, that there was no immediate

prospect of departure.

The ship continued to steam up and down. On the morning of December 23

it was found possible to lower the whale-boat, and Wild went off with

a complement of sturdy oarsmen, including Madigan, Moyes, Watson and

Kennedy, and succeeded in bringing off the dogs. Several trips were made

with difficulty during the day, but at last all the men, dogs and sheep

were brought off.

Both Wild and I went with the whale-boat on its last trip at dusk on the

evening of December 23. The only possible landing-place, with the sea

then running, was at the extreme north-eastern corner of the beach. No

time was lost in getting the men and the remainder of the cargo into

the boat, though in the darkness this was not easily managed. The final

parting with our Macquarie Island party took place on the beach, their

cheers echoing to ours as we breasted the surf and "gave way" for the

ship.

CHAPTER III FROM MACQUARIE ISLAND TO ADELIE LAND

The morning following our farewell to Ainsworth and party at the north

end of the island found us steaming down the west coast, southward

bound.

Our supply of fresh water was scanty, and the only resource was to

touch at Caroline Cove. As a matter of fact, there were several suitable

localities on the east coast, but the strong easterly weather then

prevailing made a landing impossible.

On the ship nearing the south end, the wind subsided. She then crept

into the lee of the cliffs, a boat was dropped and soundings disclosed a

deep passage at the mouth of Caroline Cove and ample water within.

There was, however, limited space for manoeuvring the vessel if a change

should occur in the direction of the wind. The risk was taken; the

'Aurora' felt her way in, and, to provide against accident, was anchored

by Captain Davis with her bow toward the entrance. Wild then ran out a

kedge anchor to secure the stern.

During the cruise down the coast the missing stock of our only anchor

had been replaced by Gillies and Hannam. Two oregon "dead men", bolted

together on the shank, made a clumsy but efficient makeshift.

Two large barrels were taken ashore, repeatedly filled and towed off

to the ship. It was difficult at first to find good water, for the main

stream flowing down from the head of the bay was contaminated by the

penguins which made it their highway to a rookery. After a search, an

almost dry gulley bed was found to yield water when a pit was dug in its

bed. This spot was some eighty yards from the beach and to reach it one

traversed an area of tussocks between which sea elephants wallowed in

soft mire.

A cordon of men was made and buckets were interchanged, the full ones

descending and the empty ones ascending. The barrels on the beach were

thus speedily filled and taken off by a boat's crew. At 11 P.M. darkness

came, and it was decided to complete the work on the following day.

As we rowed to the ship, the water was serenely placid. From the dark

environing hills came the weird cries of strange birds. There was a hint

of wildness, soon to be forgotten in the chorus of a 'Varsity song and

the hearty shouts of the rowers.

About 2 A.M. the officer on watch came down to report to Captain Davis

a slight change in the direction of the breeze. At 3 A.M. I was again

awakened by hearing Captain Davis hasten on deck, and by a gentle

bumping of the ship, undoubtedly against rock. It appeared that the

officer on watch had left the bridge for a few minutes, while the wind

freshened and was blowing at the time nearly broadside-on from the

north. This caused the ship to sag to leeward, stretching the bow and

stern cables, until she came in contact with the kelp-covered, steep,

rocky bank on the south side. The narrow limits of the anchorage were

responsible for this dangerous situation.

All hands were immediately called on deck and set to work hauling on

the stern cable. In a few minutes the propeller and rudder were out of

danger. The engines were then started slowly ahead, and, as we came up

to the bower anchor, the cable was taken in. The wind was blowing across

the narrow entrance to the Cove, so that it was advisable to get quickly

under way. The kedge anchor was abandoned, and we steamed straight out

to sea with the bower hanging below the bows. The wind increased, and

there was no other course open but to continue the southward voyage.

The day so inauspiciously begun turned out beautifully sunny. There was

additional verve in our Christmas celebration, as Macquarie Island and

the Bishop and Clerk, in turn, sank below the northern horizon.

During the stay at the island little attention had been given to

scientific matters. All our energies had been concentrated on speedily

landing the party which was to carry out such special work, so as to

allow us to get away south as soon as possible. Enough had been seen to

indicate the wide scientific possibilities of the place.

For some days we were favoured by exceptional weather; a moderate

breeze from the north-east and a long, lazy swell combining to make our

progress rapid.

The sum of the experiences of earlier expeditions had shown that

the prevailing winds south of 60 degrees S. latitude were mainly

south-easterly, causing a continuous streaming of the pack from east to

west. Our obvious expedient on encountering the ice was to steam in the

same direction as this drift. It had been decided before setting out

that we would confine ourselves to the region west of the meridian

of 158 degrees E. longitude. So it was intended to reach the pack,

approximately in that meridian, and, should we be repulsed, to work

steadily to the west in expectation of breaking through to the land.

Regarding the ice conditions over the whole segment of the unknown tract

upon which our attack was directed, very little was known. Critically

examined, the reports of the American squadron under the command of

Wilkes were highly discouraging. D'Urville appeared to have reached

his landfall without much hindrance by ice, but that was a fortunate

circumstance in view of the difficulties Wilkes had met. At the western

limit of the area we were to explore, the Germans in the 'Gauss' had

been irrevocably trapped in the ice as early as the month of February.

At the eastern limit, only the year before, the 'Terra Nova' of Scott's

expedition, making a sally into unexplored waters, had sighted new land

almost on the 158th meridian, but even though it was then the end of

summer, and the sea was almost free from the previous season's ice, they

were not able to reach the land on account of the dense pack.

In the early southern summer, at the time of our arrival, the ice

conditions were expected to be at their worst. This followed from the

fact that not only would local floes be encountered, but also a vast

expanse of pack fed by the disintegrating floes of the Ross Sea, since,

between Cape Adare and the Balleny Islands, the ice drifting to the

north-west under the influence of the south-east winds is arrested in

an extensive sheet. On the other hand, were we to wait for the later

season, no time would remain for the accomplishment of the programme

which had been arranged. So we were forced to accept things as we found

them, being also prepared to make the most of any chance opportunity.

In planning the Expedition, the probability of meeting unusually heavy

pack had been borne in mind, and the three units into which the land

parties and equipment were divided had been disposed so as to facilitate

the landing of a base with despatch, and, maybe, under difficult

circumstances. Further, in case the ship were frozen in, "wireless"

could be installed and the news immediately communicated through

Macquarie Island to Australia.

At noon on December 27 whales were spouting all round us, and appeared

to be travelling from west to east. Albatrosses of several species

constantly hovered about, and swallow-like Wilson petrels--those nervous

rangers of the high seas--would sail along the troughs and flit over the

crests of the waves, to vanish into sombre distance.

Already we were steaming through untravelled waters, and new discoveries

might be expected at any moment. A keen interest spread throughout the

ship. On several occasions, fantastic clouds on the horizon gave hope

of land, only to be abandoned on further advance. On December 28 and 29

large masses of floating kelp were seen, and, like the flotsam met with

by Columbus, still further raised our hopes.

The possibility of undiscovered islands existing in the Southern Ocean,

south of Australia and outside the ice-bound region, kept us vigilant.

So few ships had ever navigated the waters south of latitude 55

degrees, that some one and a quarter million square miles lay open to

exploration. As an instance of such a discovery in the seas south of New

Zealand may be mentioned Scott Island, first observed by the 'Morning',

one of the relief ships of the British Expedition of 1902.

The weather remained favourable for sounding and other oceanographical

work, but as it was uncertain how long these conditions would last, and

in view of the anxiety arising from overloaded decks and the probability

of gales which are chronic in these latitudes, it was resolved to

land one of the bases as soon as possible, and thus rid the ship of

superfluous cargo. The interesting but time-absorbing study of the

ocean-depths was therefore postponed for a while.

With regard to the Antarctic land to be expected ahead, many of Wilkes's

landfalls, where they had been investigated by later expeditions, had

been disproved. It seemed as if he had regarded the northern margin

of the solid floe and shelf-ice as land; perhaps also mistaking bergs,

frozen in the floe and distorted by mirage, for ice-covered land.

Nevertheless, his soundings, and the light thrown upon the subject by

the Scott and Shackleton expeditions, left no doubt in my mind that

land would be found within a reasonable distance south of the position

assigned by Wilkes. Some authorities had held that any land existing

in this region would be found to be of the nature of isolated islands.

Those familiar with the adjacent land, however, were all in favour of it

being continental--a continuation of the Victoria Land plateau. The land

lay to the south beyond doubt; the problem was to reach it through

the belt of ice-bound sea. Still, navigable pack-ice might be ahead,

obviating the need of driving too far to the west.

"Ice on the starboard bow!" At 4 P.M. on December 29 the cry was raised,

and shortly after we passed alongside a small caverned berg whose

bluish-green tints called forth general admiration. In the distance

others could be seen. One larger than the average stood almost in our

path. It was of the flat-topped, sheer-walled type, so characteristic

of the Antarctic regions; three-quarters of a mile long and half a mile

wide, rising eighty feet above the sea.

It has been stated that tabular bergs are typical of the Antarctic as

opposed to the Arctic. This diversity is explained by a difference in

the glacial conditions. In the north, glaciation is not so marked and,

as a rule, coastal areas are free from ice, except for valley-glaciers

which transport ice from the high interior down to sea-level. There,

the summer temperature is so warm that the lower parts of the glaciers

become much decayed, and, reaching the sea, break up readily into

numerous irregular, pinnacled bergs of clear ice. In the south, the

tabular forms result from the fact that the average annual temperature

is colder than that prevailing at the northern axis of the earth. They

are so formed because, even at sea-level, no appreciable amount of

thawing takes place in midsummer. The inland ice pushes out to sea in

enormous masses, and remains floating long before it "calves" to form

bergs. Even though its surface has been thrown into ridges as it was

creeping over the uneven land, all are reduced to a dead level or

slightly undulating plain, in the free-floating condition, and are still

further effaced by dense drifts and repeated falls of snow descending

upon them. The upper portion of a table-topped berg consists, therefore,

of consolidated snow; neither temperature nor pressure having been

sufficient to metamorphose it into clear ice. Such a berg in old age

becomes worn into an irregular shape by the action of waves and weather,

and often completely capsizes, exposing its corroded basement.

A light fog obscured the surrounding sea and distant bergs glided by

like spectres. A monstrous block on the starboard side had not been long

adrift, for it showed but slight signs of weathering.

The fog thickened over a grey swell that shimmered with an oily lustre.

At 7 P.M. pack-ice came suddenly to view, and towards it we steered,

vainly peering through the mists ahead in search of a passage. The

ice was closely packed, the pieces being small and wellworn. On the

outskirts was a light brash which steadily gave place to a heavier

variety, composed of larger and more angular fragments. A swishing

murmur like the wind in the tree-tops came from the great expanse. It

was alabaster-white and through the small, separate chips was diffused

a pale lilac coloration. The larger chunks, by their motion and exposure

to wind and current, had a circle of clear water; the deep sea-blue

hovering round their water-worn niches. Here and there appeared the

ochreous-yellow colour of adhering films of diatoms.

As we could not see what lay beyond, and the pack was becoming heavier,

the ship was swung round and headed out.

Steering to the west through open water and patches of trailing brash,

we were encouraged to find the pack trending towards the south. By

pushing through bars of jammed floes and dodging numerous bergs, twenty

miles were gained due southwards before the conditions had changed. The

fog cleared, and right ahead massive bergs rose out of an ice-strewn

sea. We neared one which was a mile in length and one hundred feet in

height. The heaving ocean, dashing against its mighty, glistening walls,

rushed with a hollow boom into caverns of ethereal blue; gothic portals

to a cathedral of resplendent purity.

The smaller bergs and fragments of floe crowded closer together, and the

two men at the wheel had little time for reverie. Orders came in quick

succession--"Starboard! Steady!" and in a flash--"Hard-a-port!" Then

repeated all over again, while the rudder-chains scraped and rattled in

their channels.

Gradually the swell subsided, smoothed by the weight of ice. The

tranquillity of the water heightened the superb effects of this glacial

world. Majestic tabular bergs whose crevices exhaled a vaporous azure;

lofty spires, radiant turrets and splendid castles; honeycombed masses

illumined by pale green light within whose fairy labyrinths the water

washed and gurgled. Seals and penguins on magic gondolas were the silent

denizens of this dreamy Venice. In the soft glamour of the midsummer

midnight sun, we were possessed by a rapturous wonder--the rare thrill

of unreality.

The ice closed in, and shock after shock made the ship vibrate as she

struck the smaller pieces full and fair, followed by a crunching and

grinding as they scraped past the sides. The dense pack had come, and

hardly a square foot of space showed amongst the blocks; smaller

ones packing in between the larger, until the sea was covered with a

continuous armour of ice. The ominous sound arising from thousands

of faces rubbing together as they gently oscillated in the swell was

impressive. It spoke of a force all-powerful, in whose grip puny ships

might be locked for years and the less fortunate receive their last

embrace.

The pack grew heavier and the bergs more numerous, embattled in a

formidable array. If an ideal picture, from our point of view it was

impenetrable. No "water sky" showed as a distant beacon; over all was

reflected the pitiless, white glare of the ice. The 'Aurora' retreated

to the open sea, and headed to the west in search of a break in the

ice-front. The wind blew from the south-east, and, with sails set to

assist the engines, rapid progress was made.

The southern prospect was disappointing, for the heavy pack was ranged

in a continuous bar. The over-arching sky invariably shone with

that yellowish-white effulgence known as "ice blink," indicative of

continuous ice, in contrast with the dark water sky, a sign of open

water, or a mottled sky proceeding from an ice-strewn but navigable sea.

Though progress can be made in dense pack, provided it is not too heavy,

advance is necessarily very slow--a few miles a day, and that at the

expense of much coal. Without a well-defined "water sky" it would have

been foolish to have entered. Further, everything pointed to heavier

ice-conditions in the south, and, indeed, in several places we

reconnoitred, and such was proved to be the case. Large bergs were

numerous, which, on account of being almost unaffected by surface

currents because of their ponderous bulk and stupendous draught, helped

to compact the shallow surface-ice under the free influence of currents

and winds. In our westerly course we were sometimes able to edge a

little to the south, but were always reduced to our old position within

a few hours. Long projecting "tongues" were met at intervals and, when

narrow or open, we pushed through them.

Whales were frequently seen, both rorquals and killers. On the pack,

sea-leopards and crab-eater seals sometimes appeared. At one time as

many as a hundred would be counted from the bridge and at other moments

not a single one could be sighted. They were not alarmed, unless the

ship happened to bump against ice-masses within a short distance of

them. A small sea-leopard, shot from the fo'c'sle by a well-directed

bullet from Wild, was taken on board as a specimen; the meat serving as

a great treat for the dogs.

On January 2, when driving through a tongue of pack, a halt was made to

"ice ship." A number of men scrambled over the side on to a large piece

of floe and handed up the ice. It was soon discovered, however, that the

swell was too great, for masses of ice ten tons or more in weight

swayed about under the stern, endangering the propeller and rudder--the

vulnerable parts of the vessel. So we moved on, having secured enough

fresh-water ice to supply a pleasant change after the somewhat

discoloured tank-water then being served out. The ice still remained

compact and forbidding, but each day we hoped to discover a weak spot

through which we might probe to the land itself.

On the evening of January 2 we saw a high, pinnacled berg, a few miles

within the edge of the pack, closely resembling a rocky peak; the

transparent ice of which it was composed appeared, in the dull light,

of a much darker hue than the surrounding bergs. Another adjacent block

exhibited a large black patch on its northern face, the exact nature of

which could not be ascertained at a distance. Examples of rock debris

embedded in bergs had already been observed, and it was presumed that

this was a similar case. These were all hopeful signs, for the earthy

matter must, of course, have been picked up by the ice during its repose

upon some adjacent land.

At this same spot, large flocks of silver-grey petrels were seen resting

on the ice and skimming the water in search of food. As soon as we had

entered the ice-zone, most of our old companions, such as the albatross,

had deserted, while a new suite of Antarctic birds had taken their

place. These included the beautiful snow petrel, the Antarctic petrel,

and the small, lissome Wilson petrel--a link with the bird-life of more

temperate seas.

On the evening of January 3 the wind was blowing fresh from the

south-east and falling snow obscured the horizon. The pack took a

decided turn to the north, which fact was particularly disappointing in

view of the distance we had already traversed to the west. We were now

approaching the longitude of D'Urville's landfall, and still the pack

showed no signs of slackening. I was beginning to feel very anxious, and

had decided not to pass that longitude without resorting to desperate

measures.

The change in our fortunes occurred at five o'clock next morning, when

the Chief Officer, Toucher, came down from the bridge to report that the

atmosphere was clearing and that there appeared to be land-ice near

by. Sure enough, on the port side, within a quarter of a mile, rose a

massive barrier of ice extending far into the mist and separated from

the ship by a little loose pack-ice. The problem to be solved was,

whether it was the seaward face of an ice-covered continent, the

ice-capping of a low island or only a flat-topped iceberg of immense

proportions.

By 7 A.M. a corner was reached where the ice-wall trended southward,

limned on the horizon in a series of bays and headlands. An El Dorado

had opened before us, for the winds coming from the east of south had

cleared the pack away from the lee of the ice-wall, so that in the

distance a comparatively clear sea was visible, closed by a bar of ice,

a few miles in extent. Into this we steered, hugging the ice-wall, and

were soon in the open, speeding along in glorious sunshine, bringing new

sights into view every moment.

The wall, along the northern face, was low--from thirty to seventy feet

in height--but the face along which we were now progressing gradually

rose in altitude to the south. It was obviously a shelf-ice formation

(or a glacier-tongue projection of it), exactly similar in build, for

instance, to the Great Ross Barrier so well described by Ross, Scott,

and others. At the north-west corner, at half a dozen places within

a few miles of each other, the wall was puckered up and surmounted by

semi-conical eminences, half as high as the face itself. These peculiar

elevations were unlike anything previously recorded and remained

unexplained for a while, until closer inspection showed them to be the

result of impact with other ice-masses--a curious but conceivable cause.

On pieces of broken floe Weddell seals were noted. They were the first

seen on the voyage and a sure indication of land, for their habitat

ranges over the coastal waters of Antarctic lands.

A large, low, dome-topped elevation, about one mile in diameter, was

passed on the starboard side, at a distance of two miles from the long

ice-cliff. This corresponded in shape with what Ross frequently referred

to as an "ice island," uncertain whether it was a berg or ice-covered

land. A sounding close by gave two hundred and eight fathoms, showing

that we were on the continental shelf, and increasing the probability

that the "ice island" was aground.

Birds innumerable appeared on every hand: snow petrels, silver petrels,

Cape pigeons and Antarctic petrels. They fluttered in hundreds about

our bows. Cape pigeons are well known in lower latitudes, and it was

interesting to find them so far south. As they have chessboard-like

markings on the back when seen in flight, there is no mistaking them.

The ice-wall or glacier-tongue now took a turn to the south-east. At

this point it had risen to a great height, about two hundred feet sheer.

A fresh wind was blowing in our teeth from the south-south-east, and

beyond this point would be driving us on to the cliffs. We put the ship

about, therefore, and made for the lee side of the "ice island."

In isolated coveys on the inclined top of the "island" were several

flocks, each containing hundreds of Antarctic petrels. At intervals they

would rise into the air in clouds, shortly afterwards to settle down

again on the snow.

Captain Davis moved the ship carefully against the lee wall of the

"island," with a view of replenishing our water supply, but it was

unscalable, and we were forced to withdraw. Crouched on a small

projection near the water's edge was a seal, trying to evade the eyes of

a dozen large grampuses which were playing about near our stern. These

monsters appeared to be about twenty-five feet in length. They are the

most formidable predacious mammals of the Antarctic seas, and annually

account for large numbers of seals, penguins, and other cetaceans. The

sea-leopard is its competitor, though not nearly so ferocious as the

grampus, of whom it lives in terror.

The midnight hours were spent off the "ice island" while we wafted for

a decrease in the wind. Bars of cirrus clouds covered the whole sky--the

presage of a coming storm. The wind arose, and distant objects were

blotted out by driving snow. An attempt was made to keep the ship

in shelter by steaming into the wind, but as "ice island" and

glacier-tongue were lost in clouds of snow, we were fortunate to make

the lee of the latter, about fourteen miles to the north. There we

steamed up and down until the afternoon of January 5, when the weather

improved. A sounding was taken and the course was once more set for the

south.

The sky remained overcast, the atmosphere foggy, and a south-south-east

wind was blowing as we came abreast of the "ice island," which, by the

way, was discovered to have drifted several miles to the north, thus

proving itself to be a free-floating berg. The glacier-tongue on the

port side took a sharp turn to the east-south-east, disappearing on the

horizon. As there was no pack in sight and the water was merely littered

with fragments of ice, it appeared most likely that the turn in the

glacier-tongue was part of a great sweeping curve ultimately joining

with the southward land. On our south-south-east course we soon lost

sight of the ice-cliffs in a gathering fog.

On the afternoon of January 6 the wind abated and the fog began to

clear. At 5 P.M. a line of ice confronted us and, an hour later, the

'Aurora' was in calm water under another mighty ice face trending across

our course. This wall was precisely similar to the one seen on the

previous evening, and might well have been a continuation of it. It is

scarcely credible that when the 'Aurora' came south the following year,

the glacier-tongue first discovered had entirely disappeared. It was

apparently nothing more than a huge iceberg measuring forty miles in

length. Specially valuable, as clearing up any doubt that may have

remained, was its re-discovery the following year some fifty miles to

the north-west. Close to the face of the new ice-wall, which proved to

be a true glacier-tongue, a mud bottom was found at a depth of three

hundred and ninety-five fathoms.

While we were steaming in calm water to the south-west, the massive

front, serrated by shallow bays and capes, passed in magnificent review.

Its height attained a maximum of one hundred and fifty feet. In places

the sea had eaten out enormous blue grottoes. At one spot, several of

these had broken into each other to form a huge domed cavern, the roof

of which hung one hundred feet above the sea. The noble portico was

flanked by giant pillars.

The glacier-tongue bore all the characters of shelf-ice, by which is

meant a floating extension of the land-ice.** A table-topped berg in the

act of formation was seen, separated from the parent body of shelf-ice

by a deep fissure several yards in width.

** Subsequently this shelf-ice formation was found to be a floating

glacier-tongue sixty miles in length, the seaward extension of a large

glacier which we named the Mertz Glacier.

At 11 P.M. the 'Aurora' entered a bay, ten miles wide, bounded on the

east by the shelf-ice wall and on the west by a steep snow-covered

promontory rising approximately two thousand feet in height, as yet seen

dimly in hazy outline through the mist. No rock was visible, but the

contour of the ridge was clearly that of ice-capped land.

There was much jubilation among the watchers on deck at the prospect.

Every available field-glass and telescope was brought to bear upon it.

It was almost certainly the Antarctic continent, though, at that time,

its extension to the east, west and south remained to be proved. The

shelf-ice was seen to be securely attached to it and, near its point of

junction with the undulating land-ice, we beheld the mountains of this

mysterious land haloed in ghostly mist.

While passing the extremity of the western promontory, we observed an

exposure of rock, jutting out of the ice near sea-level, in the face of

a scar left by an avalanche. Later, when passing within half a cable's

length of several berg-like masses of ice lying off the coast, rock

was again visible in black relief against the water's edge, forming a

pedestal for the ice. The ship was kept farther offshore, after this

warning, for though she was designed to buffet with the ice, we had no

desire to test her resistance to rock.

The bottom was very irregular, and as an extra precaution, soundings

were taken every few minutes. Through a light fog all that could be

seen landwards was a steep, sloping, icy surface descending from the

interior, and terminating abruptly in a seaward cliff fifty to two

hundred feet in height.

The ice-sheet terminating in this wall presented a more broken surface

than the floating shelf-ice. It was riven and distorted by gaping

crevasses; an indication of the rough bed over which it had travelled.

Towards midnight another bay was entered and many rocky islets appeared

on its western side. The engines were stopped for a few hours, and the

voyage was resumed in clearer weather on the following morning.

All day we threaded our way between islands and bergs. Seals and

penguins swam around, the latter squawking and diving in a most amusing

manner.

Cautiously we glided by an iceberg, at least one hundred and fifty feet

high, rising with a faceted, perpendicular face chased with soft, snowy

traceries and ornamented with stalactites. Splits and rents broke into

the margin, and from each streamed the evanescent, azure vapour. Each

puncture and tiny grotto was filled with it, and a sloping cap of

shimmering snow spread over the summit. The profile-view was an exact

replica of a battleship, grounded astern. The bold contour of the

bow was perfect, and the massive flank had been torn and shattered

by shell-fire in a desperate naval battle. This berg had heeled over

considerably, and the original water-line ran as a definite rim, thirty

feet above the green water. From this rim shelved down a smooth and

polished base, marked with fine vertical striae.

Soundings varied from twenty to two hundred fathoms, and, accordingly,

the navigation was particularly anxious work.

Extending along about fifteen miles of coast, where the inland ice came

down steeply to the sea, was a marginal belt of sea, about two or three

miles in width, thickly strewn with rocky islets. Of these some were

flat and others peaked, but all were thickly populated by penguins,

petrels and seals. The rocks appeared all to be gneisses and schists.

Later that night we lay off a possible landing-place for one of our

bases, but, on more closely inspecting it in the morning, we decided to

proceed farther west into a wide sweeping bay which opened ahead. About

fifty miles ahead, on the far side of Commonwealth Bay, as we named it,

was a cape which roughly represented in position Cape Decouverte, the

most easterly extension of Adelie Land seen by D'Urville in 1840.

Though Commonwealth Bay and the land already seen had never before been

sighted, all was placed under the territorial name of Adelie Land.

The land was so overwhelmed with ice that, even at sea-level, the rock

was all but entirely hidden. Here was an ice age in all earnestness; a

picture of Northern Europe during the Great Ice Age some fifty thousand

years ago. It was evident that the glaciation of Adelie Land was much

more severe than that in higher Antarctic latitudes, as exampled on the

borders of the Ross Sea; the arena of Scott's, Shackleton's and other

expeditions. The temperature could not be colder, so we were led to

surmise that the snowfall must be excessive. The full truth was to be

ascertained by bitter experience, after spending a year on the spot.

I had hoped to find the Antarctic continent in these latitudes bounded

by a rocky and attractive coast like that in the vicinity of Cape Adare;

the nearest well-explored region. It had proved otherwise, only too well

endorsing the scanty information supplied by D'Urville and Wilkes of

the coastline seen by them. A glance at the austere plateau and the

ice-fettered coast was evidence of a rigid, inhospitable climate. It

was apparent, too, that only a short summer could be expected in these

latitudes, thus placing limitations upon our operations.

If three bases were to be landed it was important that they should be

spread at sufficiently wide intervals. If one were placed in Adelie

Land, the ship would probably have to break through the pack in

establishing each of the other two ba ses. Judging by our previous

experience there was no certain prospect of this being effected. The

successful landing of three bases in suitable positions, sufficiently

far apart for advantageous co-operation in geographical, meteorological

and other observations, had now become problematical. In addition, one

of the parties was not as strong as I would have liked, considering what

would be undoubtedly its strenuous future.

For some days the various phases of the situation had occupied my mind,

and I now determined to risk two bases, combining the smallest of the

three parties with the Main Base. Alterations in the personnel of the

third party were also made, by which the Main Base would be increased in

strength for scientific work, and the other party under the leadership

of Wild would be composed of men of specially good sledging calibre,

besides being representative of the leading branches of our scientific

programme.

We had a splendid lot of men, and I had no difficulty in choosing for

Wild seven companions who could be relied upon to give a good account of

themselves. It was only by assuring myself of their high efficiency that

I could expect to rest from undue anxiety throughout the year of our

separation. The composition of the two parties was as follows:

Main Base: R. Bage, F. H. Bickerton, J. H. Close, P. E. Correll, W. H.

Hannam, A. J. Hodgeman, J. G. Hunter, J. F. Hurley, C. F. Laseron, C.

T. Madigan, A. L. McLean, X. Mertz, H. D. Murphy, B. E. S. Ninnis, F. L.

Stillwell, E. N. Webb, L. H. Whetter and myself.

Western Party: G. Dovers, C. T. Harrisson, C. A. Hoadley, S. E. Jones,

A. L. Kennedy, M. H. Moyes, A. D. Watson, and F. Wild (leader).

I was now anxious to find a suitable location for our Main Base; two

reasons making it an urgent matter. The first was, that as we advanced

to the west we were leaving the South Magnetic Pole, and I was anxious

to have our magnetographs running as near the latter as possible.

Secondly, we would be daily increasing our distance from Macquarie

Island, making wireless communication more uncertain.

At noon on January 8, while I was weighing the pros and cons with

Captain Davis, Wild came in to say that there was a rocky exposure about

fifteen miles off on the port side, and suggested altering our course to

obtain a better view of it.

Just after 4 P.M., when the ship was about one mile from the nearest

rocks, the whale-boat was lowered and manned. We rowed in with the

object of making a closer investigation. From the ship's deck, even when

within a mile, the outcrop had appeared to project directly from under

the inland ice-sheet. Now, however, we were surprised to find ourselves

amongst an archipelago of islets. These were named the Mackellar Islets,

in remembrance of one who had proved a staunch friend of the Expedition.

Weddell seals and Adelie penguins in thousands rested upon the rocks;

the latter chiefly congregated upon a long, low, bare islet situated in

the centre. This was the largest of the group, measuring about half a

mile in length; others were not above twenty yards in diameter. As we

came inshore, the main body of the archipelago was found to be separated

by a mile and a half from the mainland. A point which struck us at the

time was that the islets situated on the southern side of the group were

capped by unique masses of ice; resembling iced cakes. Later we were

able to see them in process of formation. In the violent southerly

hurricanes prevalent in Adelie Land, the spray breaks right over them.

Part of it is deposited and frozen, and by increments the icing of these

monstrous "cakes" is built up. The amount contributed in winter makes

up for loss by thawing in midsummer. As the islets to windward shelter

those in their lee, the latter are destitute of these natural canopies.

Soundings were taken at frequent intervals with a hand lead-line,

manipulated by Madigan. The water was on the whole shallow, varying

from a few to twenty fathoms. The bottom was clothed by dense, luxuriant

seaweed. This rank growth along the littoral was unexpected, for nothing

of the kind exists on the Ross Sea coasts within five or six fathoms of

the surface.

Advancing towards the mainland, we observed a small islet amongst the

rocks, and towards it the boat was directed. We were soon inside a

beautiful, miniature harbour completely land-locked. The sun

shone gloriously in a blue sky as we stepped ashore on a charming

ice-quay--the first to set foot on the Antarctic continent between Cape

Adare and Gaussberg, a distance of one thousand eight hundred miles.

Wild and I proceeded to make a tour of exploration. The rocky area at

Cape Denison, as it was named, was found to be about one mile in

length and half a mile in extreme width. Behind it rose the inland ice,

ascending in a regular slope and apparently free of crevasses--an outlet

for our sledging parties in the event of the sea not firmly freezing

over. To right and left of this oasis, as the visitor to Adelie Land

must regard the welcome rock, the ice was heavily crevassed and fell

sheer to the sea in cliffs, sixty to one hundred and fifty feet in

height. Two small dark patches in the distance were the only evidences

of rock to relieve the white monotony of the coast.

In landing cargo on Antarctic shores, advantage is generally taken

of the floe-ice on to which the materials can be unloaded and at once

sledged away to their destination. Here, on the other hand, there was

open water, too shallow for the 'Aurora' to be moored alongside the

ice-foot. The only alternative was to anchor the ship at a distance

and discharge the cargo by boats running to the ideal harbour we had

discovered. Close to the boat harbour was suitable ground for the

erection of a hut, so that the various impedimenta would have to be

carried only a short distance. For supplies of fresh meat, in the

emergency of being marooned for a number of years, there were many

Weddell seals at hand, and on almost all the neighbouring ridges

colonies of penguins were busy rearing their young.64

As a station for scientific investigations, it offered a wider field

than the casual observer would have imagined. So it came about that the

Main Base was finally settled at Cape Denison, Commonwealth Bay.

We arrived on board at 8 P.M., taking a seal as food for the dogs.

Without delay, the motor-launch was dropped into the water, and both it

and the whale-boat loaded with frozen carcasses of mutton, cases of eggs

and other perishable goods.

While some of us went ashore in the motor-launch, with the whale-boat in

tow, the 'Aurora' steamed round the Mackellar Islets seeking for a good

anchorage under the icy barrier, immediately to the west of the boat

harbour. The day had been perfect, vibrant with summer and life, but

towards evening a chill breeze sprang up, and we in the motor-launch had

to beat against it. By the time we had reached the head of the harbour,

Hoadley had several fingers frost-bitten and all were feeling the cold,

for we were wearing light garments in anticipation of fine weather.

The wind strengthened every minute, and showers of fine snow were soon

whistling down the glacier. No time was lost in landing the cargo, and,

with a rising blizzard at our backs, we drove out to meet the 'Aurora'.

On reaching the ship a small gale was blowing and our boats were taken

in tow.

The first thing to be considered was the mooring of the 'Aurora' under

the lee of the ice-wall, so as to give us an opportunity of getting the

boats aboard. In the meantime they were passed astern, each manned by

several hands to keep them bailed out; the rest of us having scrambled

up the side. Bringing the ship to anchor in such a wind in uncharted,

shoal water was difficult to do in a cool and methodical manner. The

sounding machine was kept running with rather dramatic results; depths

jumping from five to thirty fathoms in the ship's length, and back again

to the original figure in the same distance. A feeling of relief passed

round when, after much manoeuvring, the anchor was successfully bedded

five hundred yards from the face of the cliff.

Just at this time the motor-launch broke adrift. Away it swept before a

wind of forty-five miles per hour. On account of the cold, and because

the engine was drenched with sea-water, some difficulty was found in

starting the motor. From the ship's deck we could see Bickerton busily

engaged with it. The rudder had been unshipped, and there was no chance

of replacing it, for the boat was bobbing about on the waves in a most

extraordinary manner. However, Whetter managed to make a jury-rudder

which served the purpose, while Hunter, the other occupant, was kept

laboriously active with the pump.

They had drifted half a mile, and were approaching the rocks of an islet

on which the sea was breaking heavily. Just as every one was becoming

very apprehensive, the launch began to forge ahead, and the men had soon

escaped from their dangerous predicament. By the united efforts of all

hands the boats were hoisted on board and everything was made as "snug"

as possible.

The wind steadily increased, and it seemed impossible for the anchor to

hold. The strain on the cable straightened out a steel hook two inches

in diameter. This caused some embarrassment, as the hook was part of

the cable attachment under the fo'c'sle-head. It is remarkable, however,

that after this was adjusted the ship did not lose her position up to

the time of departure from Adelie Land.

Though we were so close under the shelter of a lofty wall, the waves

around us were at least four feet in height and when the wind increased

to sixty-five and seventy miles per hour, their crests were cut off and

the surface was hidden by a sheet of racing spindrift.

Everything was securely lashed in readiness for going to sea, in case

the cable should part. Final arrangements were then made to discharge

the cargo quickly as soon as the wind moderated.

Two days had elapsed before the wind showed any signs of abatement. It

was 8 P.M. on January 10 when the first boat ventured off with a small

cargo, but it was not till the following morning that a serious start

was made. In good weather, every trip between the ship and the boat

harbour, a distance of a mile, meant that five or six tons had been

landed. It was usual for the loaded launch to tow both whale-boats

heavily laden and, in addition, a raft of hut timbers or wireless masts.

Some of the sailors, while engaged in building rafts alongside the ship,

were capsized into the water and after that the occupation was not a

popular one.

Ashore, Wild had rigged a derrick, using for its construction two of

the wireless royal masts. It was thus possible to cope with the heavier

packages at the landing-place. Of the last-named the air-tractor sledge

was by far the most troublesome. With plenty of manual labour, under

Wild's skilful direction, this heavy machine was hoisted from the

motor-launch, and then carefully swung on to the solid ice-foot.

Captain Davis superintended the discharging operations on the ship,

effected by the crew and some of the land party under the direction of

the ship's officers. Wild supervised conveyance ashore, and the landing,

classification, and safe storage of the various boat-loads. Gillies and

Bickerton took alternate shifts in driving the motor-launch. The launch

proved invaluable, and we were very glad that it had been included in

the equipment, for it did a remarkable amount of work in a minimum of

time.

In view of the difficulty of embarking the boats, if another hurricane

should arise, tents were erected ashore, so that a party could remain

there with the boats moored in a sheltered harbour.

Everything went well until just before midnight on January 12, when the

wind again swept down. Wild, four of the men and I were forced to remain

ashore. We spent the time constructing a temporary hut of benzine cases,

roofed with planks; the walls of which were made massive to resist the

winds. This structure was henceforth known as the "Benzine Hut".

The barometer dropped to 28.5 inches and the wind remained high. We were

struck with the singular fact that, even in the height of some of these

hurricanes, the sky remained serene and the sun shone brightly. It had

been very different when the ship was amongst the pack a few miles to

the north, for, there, cloudy and foggy conditions had been the rule.

The wind coming to us from the south was dry; obviously an argument for

the continental extension of the land in that direction.

At 2 A.M. on January 15 a pre-arranged whistle was sounded from the

'Aurora', advising those of us ashore that the sea had moderated

sufficiently to continue unloading. Wild sped away in the launch, but

before he had reached the ship the wind renewed its activity. At last,

after 2 P.M. on the same day it ceased, and we were able to carry on

work until midnight, when the wind descended on us once more. This time,

eighteen men remained ashore. After twelve hours there was another lull,

and unloading was then continued with only a few intermissions from 1

P.M. on January 16 until the afternoon of January 19.

Never was landing so hampered by adverse conditions, and yet, thanks to

the assiduous application of all, a great assortment of materials was

safely embarked. Comprised among them were the following: twenty-three

tons of coal briquettes, two complete living-huts, a magnetic

observatory, the whole of the wireless equipment, including masts,

and more than two thousand packages of general supplies containing

sufficient food for two years, utensils, instruments, benzine, kerosene,

lubricating oils an air-tractor and other sledges.

Then came the time for parting. There was a great field before Wild's

party to the west, and it was important that they should be able to

make the most of the remainder of the season. My great regret was that I

could not be with them. I knew that I had men of experience and ability

in Davis and Wild, and felt that the work entrusted to them was in the

best of hands. Through the medium of wireless telegraphy I hoped to keep

in touch with the Macquarie Island party, the Western Base,** and the

ship itself, when in Australian waters.

** They were supplied with masts and a receiving set sufficiently

sensitive to pick up messages from a distance of five or six hundred

miles.

It was my idea that Wild's party should proceed west and attempt to

effect a landing and establish a western wintering station at some

place not less than four hundred miles west of Adelie Land. On the way,

whenever opportunity presented itself, they were to cache provisions

at intervals along the coast in places liable to be visited by sledging

parties.

The location of such caches and of the Western Base, it was hoped, would

be communicated to us at the Main Base, through the medium of wireless

telegraphy from Hobart.

All members of the land parties and the ship's officers met in the

ward-room. There were mutual good wishes expressed all round, and then

we celebrated previous Antarctic explorers, more especially D'Urville

and Wilkes. The toast was drunk in excellent Madeira presented to us by

Mr. J. T. Buchanan, who had carried this sample round the world with him

when a member of the celebrated 'Challenger' expedition.

The motor-launch was hoisted and the anchor raised. Then at 8.45 P.M.

on January 19 we clambered over the side into one of the whale-boats and

pushed off for Cape Denison, shouting farewells back to the 'Aurora'.

Several hours later she had disappeared below the north-western horizon,

and we had set to work to carve out a home in Adelie Land.

CHAPTER IV NEW LANDS

Leaving the land party under my charge at Commonwealth Bay on the

evening of January 19, the 'Aurora' set her course to round a headland

visible on the north-western horizon. At midnight the ship came abreast

of this point and continued steaming west, keeping within a distance of

five miles of the coast. A break in the icy monotony came with a short

tract of islets fronting a background of dark rocky coastline similar to

that at Cape Denison but more extensive.

Some six miles east of D'Urville's Cape Discovery, a dangerous reef was

sighted extending at right angles across the course. The ship steamed

along it and her soundings demonstrated a submerged ridge continuing

some twelve miles out to sea. Captain Davis's narrative proceeds:

"Having cleared this obstacle we followed the coastline to the west from

point to point. Twelve miles away we could see the snow-covered slopes

rising from the seaward cliffs to an elevation of one thousand five

hundred feet. Several small islands were visible close to a shore

fringed by numerous large bergs.

"At 10 P.M. on January 20, our progress to the west was stopped by a

fleet of bergs off the mainland and an extensive field of berg-laden

pack-ice, trending to the north and north-east. Adelie Land could be

traced continuing to the west. Where it disappeared from view there was

the appearance of a barrier-formation, suggestive of shelf-ice,

running in a northerly direction. Skirting the pack-ice on a north and

north-west course, we observed the same appearance from the crow's-nest

on January 21 and 22."

The stretch of open, navigable, coastal water to the north of Adelie

Land, barred by the Mertz Glacier on the east and delimited on the west

by more or less compact ice, has been named the D'Urville Sea. We found

subsequently that its freedom from obstruction by ice is due to the

persistent gales which set off the land in that locality. To the north,

pack-ice in variable amount is encountered before reaching the wide open

ocean.

The existence of such a "barrier-formation,"** as indicated above,

probably resting on a line of reef similar to the one near Cape

Discovery, would account for the presence of this ice-field in

practically the same position as it was seen by D'Urville in 1840.

** An analysis of the data derived from the later voyages of the

'Aurora' makes it practically certain that there is a permanent obstacle

to the westerly drift of the pack-ice in longitude 137 degrees E. There

is, however, some uncertainty as to the cause of this blockage. An

alternative explanation is advanced, namely, that within the area

of comparatively shallow water, large bergs are entrapped, and these

entangle the drifting pack-ice.

At a distance, large bergs would be undistinguishable from shelf-ice,

appearances of which were reported above.

Quoting further: "We were unable to see any trace of the high land

reported by the United States Squadron (1840) as lying to the west and

south beyond the compact ice.

"At 1.30 A.M. on the 23rd the pack-ice was seen to trend to the

south-west. After steaming west for twenty-five miles, we stood south in

longitude 182 degrees 30' E, shortly afterwards passing over the charted

position of Cote Clarie. The water here was clear of pack-ice, but

studded with bergs of immense size. The great barrier which the French

ships followed in 1840 had vanished. A collection of huge bergs was the

sole remnant to mark its former position.

"At 10 A.M., having passed to the south of the charted position of

D'Urville's Cote Clarie, we altered course to S. 10 degrees E. true.

Good observations placed us at noon in latitude 65 degrees 2' S. and

132 degrees 26' E. A sounding on sand and small stones was taken in one

hundred and sixty fathoms. We sailed over the charted position of land

east of Wilkes's Cape Carr in clear weather.

"At 5.30 P.M. land was sighted to the southward--snowy highlands similar

to those of Adelie Land but greater in elevation.

"After sounding in one hundred and fifty-six fathoms on mud, the ship

stood directly towards the land until 9 P.M. The distance to the nearest

point was estimated at twenty miles; heavy floe-ice extending from our

position, latitude 65 degrees 45' S. and longitude 132 degrees 40' E.,

right up to the shore. Another sounding realized two hundred and thirty

fathoms, on sand and small stones. Some open water was seen to the

south-east, but an attempt to force a passage in that direction was

frustrated.

"At 3 A.M. on the 24th we were about twelve miles from the nearest

point of the coast, and further progress became impossible. The southern

slopes were seamed with numerous crevasses, but at a distance the

precise nature of the shores could not be accurately determined."

To this country, which had never before been seen, was given the name of

Wilkes's Land; as it is only just to commemorate the American Exploring

Expedition on the Continent which its leader believed he had discovered

in these seas and which he would have found had Fortune favoured him

with a fair return for his heroic endeavours.

"We steered round on a north-westerly course, and at noon on January 24

were slightly to the north of our position at 5.30 A.M. on the 23rd.

A sounding reached one hundred and seventy fathoms and a muddy bottom.

Environing us were enormous bergs of every kind, one hundred and eighty

to two hundred feet in height. During the afternoon a westerly course

was maintained in clear water until 4 P.M., when the course was altered

to S. 30 degrees W., in the hope of winning through to the land visible

on the southern horizon."

[TEXT ILLUSTRATION]

Ship's tracks in the vicinity of Totten's Land and North's Land

At 8 P.M. the sky was very clear to the southward, and the land could

be traced to a great distance until it faded in the south-west. But the

ship had come up with the solid floe-ice once more, and had to give

way and steam along its edge. This floating breakwater held us off and

frustrated all attempts to reach the goal which we sought.

"The next four days was a period of violent gales and heavy seas which

drove the ship some distance to the north. Nothing was visible through

swirling clouds of snow. The 'Aurora' behaved admirably, as she

invariably does in heavy weather. The main pack was encountered on

January 29, but foggy weather prevailed. It was not until noon on

January 31 that the atmosphere was sufficiently clear to obtain good

observations. The ship was by this time in the midst of heavy floe in

the vicinity of longitude 119 degrees E., and again the course had swung

round to south. We had soon passed to the south of Balleny's Sabrina

Land without any indication of its existence. Considering the doubtful

character of the statements justifying its appearance on the chart, it

is not surprising that we did not verify them.

"At 11 A.M. the floes were found too heavy for further advance. The

ship was made fast to a big one and a large quantity of ice was taken

on board to replenish the fresh-water supply. A tank of two hundred

gallons' capacity, heated within by a steam coil from the engineroom,

stood on the poop deck. Into this ice was continuously fed, flowing away

as it melted into the main tanks in the bottom of the ship.

"At noon the weather was clear, but nothing could be discerned in the

south except a faint blue line on the horizon. It may have been a 'lead'

of water, an effect of mirage, or even land-ice--in any case we could

not approach it."

The position as indicated by the noon observations placed the ship

within seven miles of a portion of Totten's High Land in Wilkes's

charts. As high land would have been visible at a great distance, it

is clear that Totten's High Land either does not exist or is situated a

considerable distance from its charted location. A sounding was made in

three hundred and forty fathoms.

[TEXT ILLUSTRATION]

Ship's track in the vicinity of Knox Land and Budd Land

Towards evening the 'Aurora' turned back to open water and cruised along

the pack-ice. A sounding next day showed nine hundred and twenty-seven

fathoms.

It was about this time that a marked improvement was noted in the

compass. Ever since the first approach to Adelie Land it had been found

unreliable, for, on account of the proximity to the magnetic pole,

the directive force of the needle was so slight that very large local

variations were experienced.

The longitude of Wilkes's Knox Land was now approaching. With the

exception of Adelie Land, the account by Wilkes concerning Knox Land

is more convincing than any other of his statements relating to new

Antarctic land. If they had not already disembarked, we had hoped to

land the western party in that neighbourhood. It was, therefore,

most disappointing when impenetrable ice blocked the way, before

Wilkes's "farthest south" in that locality had been reached. Three

determined efforts were made to find a weak spot, but each time the

'Aurora' was forced to retreat, and the third time was extricated

only with great difficulty. In latitude 65 degrees 5' S. longitude 107

degrees 20' E., a sounding of three hundred fathoms was made on a rocky

bottom. This sounding pointed to the probability of land within sixty

miles.

Repulsed from his attack on the pack, Captain Davis set out westward

towards the charted position of Termination Land, and in following the

trend of the ice was forced a long way to the north.

At 7.40 A.M., February 8, in foggy weather, the ice-cliff of floating

shelf-ice was met. This was disposed so as to point in a north-westerly

direction and it was late in the day before the ship doubled its

northern end. Here the sounding wire ran out for eight hundred and

fifty fathoms without reaching bottom. Following the wall towards the

south-south-east, it was interesting at 5.30 P.M. to find a sounding of

one hundred and ten fathoms in latitude 64 degrees 45'. A line of large

grounded bergs and massive floe-ice was observed ahead trailing away

from the ice-wall towards the north-west.

On plotting the observations, it became apparent that the shelf-ice was

in the form of a prolonged tongue some seven miles in breadth. As it

occupied the position of the "Termination Land" which has appeared on

some charts, (after Wilkes) it was named Termination Ice-Tongue.

A blizzard sprang up, and, after it had been safely weathered in the

lee of some grounded bergs, the 'Aurora' moved off on the afternoon of

February 11. The horizon was obscured by mist, as she pursued a tortuous

track amongst bergs and scattered lumps of heavy floe. Gradually the sea

became more open, and by noon on February 12 the water had deepened

to two hundred and thirty-five fathoms. Good progress was made to the

south; the vessel dodging icebergs and detached floes.

The discovery of a comparatively open sea southward of the main pack was

a matter of some moment. As later voyages and the observations of the

Western Party showed, this tract of sea is a permanent feature of the

neighbourhood. I have called it the Davis Sea, after the captain of the

'Aurora', in appreciation of the fact that he placed it on the chart.

At noon, on February 13, in latitude 65 degrees 54 1/2' S. longitude 94

degrees 25' E., the western face of a long, floating ice-tongue loomed

into view. There were five hundred fathoms of water off its extremity,

and the cliffs rose vertically to one hundred feet. Soon afterwards land

was clearly defined low in the south extending to east and west. This

was thenceforth known as Queen Mary Land.

The sphere of operations of the German expedition of 1902 was near at

hand, for its vessel, the 'Gauss', had wintered, frozen in the pack,

one hundred and twenty-five miles to the west. It appeared probable that

Queen Mary Land would be found to be continuous** with Kaiser Wilhelm

II Land, which the Germans had reached by a sledging journey from their

ship across the intervening sea-ice.

** Such was eventually proved to be the case.

The 'Aurora' followed the western side of the ice-tongue for about

twenty miles in a southerly direction, at which point there was a

white expanse of floe extending right up to the land. Wild and Kennedy,

walking several miles towards the land, estimated that it was about

twenty-five miles distant. As the surface over which they travelled was

traversed by cracks and liable to drift away to sea, all projects of

landing there had to be abandoned; furthermore, it was discovered that

the ice-tongue, alongside of which the ship lay, was a huge iceberg. A

landing on it had been contemplated, but was now out of question.

The main difficulty which arose at this juncture was the failing

coal-supply. It was high time to return to Hobart, and, if a western

base was to be formed at all, Wild's party would have to be landed

without further delay. After a consultation, Davis and Wild decided that

under the circumstances an attempt should be made to gain a footing on

the adjacent shelf-ice, if nothing better presented itself.

The night was passed anchored to the floe, on the edge of which were

numerous Emperor penguins and Weddell seals. A fresh south-easterly

wind blew on February 14, and the ship was kept in the shelter of the

iceberg. During the day enormous pieces were observed to be continually

breaking away from the berg and drifting to leeward.

Captain Davis continues: "At midnight there was a strong swell from the

north-east and the temperature went down to 18 degrees F. At 4 A.M.,

February 15, we reached the northern end of the berg and stood first of

all to the east, and then later to the south-east.

"At 8.45 A.M., shelf-ice was observed from aloft, trending approximately

north and south in a long wall. At noon we came up with the floe-ice

again, in about the same latitude as on the western side of the long

iceberg. Land could be seen to the southward. At 1 P.M. the ship stopped

at the junction of the floe and the shelf-ice."

Wild, Harrison and Hoadley went to examine the shelf-ice with a view

to its suitability for a wintering station. The cliff was eighty to one

hundred feet in height, so that the ice in total thickness must have

attained at least as much as six hundred feet. Assisted by snow-ramps

slanting down on to the floe, the ascent with ice-axes and alpine rope

was fairly easy.

Two hundred yards from the brink, the shelf-ice was thrown into

pressure-undulations and fissured by crevasses, but beyond that was

apparently sound and unbroken. About seventeen miles to the south the

rising slopes of ice-mantled land were visible, fading away to the far

east and west.

The ice-shelf was proved later on to extend for two hundred miles from

east to west, ostensibly fusing with the Termination Ice-Tongue, whose

extremity is one hundred and eighty miles to the north. The whole has

been called the Shackleton Ice-Shelf.

Wild and his party unanimously agreed to seize upon this last

opportunity, and to winter on the floating ice.

The work of discharging stores was at once commenced. To raise the

packages from the floe to the top of the ice-shelf, a "flying-fox" was

rigged.

"A kedge-anchor was buried in the sea-ice, and from this a

two-and-a-half-inch wire-hawser was led upwards over a pair of

sheer-legs on top of the cliff to another anchor buried some distance

back. The whole was set taut by a tackle. The stores were then slung to

a travelling pulley on the wire, and hauled on to the glacier by means

of a rope led through a second pulley on the sheer-legs. The ship's

company broke stores out of the hold and sledged them three hundred

yards to the foot of an aerial, where they were hooked on to the

travelling-block by which the shore party, under Wild, raised them to

their destination."

"It was most important to accelerate the landing as much as possible,

not only on account of the lateness of the season--the 'Gauss' had been

frozen in on February 22 at a spot only one hundred and seventy miles

away--but because the floe was gradually breaking up and floating away.

When the last load was hoisted, the water was lapping within ten yards

of the 'flying-fox'".

A fresh west-north-west wind on February 17 caused some trouble. Captain

Davis writes:

"February 19. The floe to which we have been attached is covered by

a foot of water. The ship has been bumping a good deal to-day.

Notwithstanding the keen wind and driving snow, every one has worked

well. Twelve tons of coal were the last item to go up the cliff."

In all, thirty-six tons of stores were raised on to the shelf-ice, one

hundred feet above sea-level, in four days.

"February 20. The weather is very fine and quite a contrast to

yesterday. We did not get the coal ashore a moment too soon, as

this morning the ice marked by our sledge tracks went to sea in a

north-westerly direction, and this afternoon it is drifting back as if

under the influence of a tide or current. We sail at 7 A.M. to-morrow.

"I went on to the glacier with Wild during the afternoon. It is somewhat

crevassed for about two hundred yards inland, and then a flat surface

stretches away as far as the eye can see. I wished the party 'God-speed'

this evening, as we sail early to-morrow."

Early on February 21, the ship's company gave their hearty farewell

cheers, and the 'Aurora' sailed north, leaving Wild and his seven

companions on the floating ice.

The bright weather of the immediate coastal region was soon exchanged

for the foggy gloom of the pack.

"February 21, 11 P.M. We are now passing a line of grounded bergs and

some heavy floe-ice. Fortunately it is calm, but in the darkness it is

difficult to see an opening. The weather is getting thick, and I expect

we shall have trouble in working through this line of bergs.

"February 22. I cannot explain how we managed to clear some of the bergs

between 11 P.M. last night and 3 A.M. this morning. At first stopping

and lying-to was tried, but it was soon evident that the big bergs were

moving and would soon hem us in: probably in a position from which we

should be unable to extricate ourselves this season.

"So we pushed this way and that, endeavouring to retain freedom at any

cost. For instance, about midnight I was 'starboarding' to clear what

appeared to be the loom of a berg on the starboard bow, when, suddenly,

out of the haze a wall seemed to stretch across our course. There was

no room to turn, so 'full speed astern' was the only alternative. The

engines responded immediately, or we must have crashed right into a huge

berg. Until daylight it was ice ahead, to port and to starboard--ice

everywhere all the time. The absence of wind saved us from disaster.

It was a great relief when day broke, showing clearer water to the

northward."

On February 23, the 'Aurora' left the shelter of Termination Ice-Tongue,

and a course was set nearly true north. There was a fresh breeze from

the north-east and a high sea. The ship was desperately short of ballast

and the coal had to be carefully husbanded. All movable gear was placed

in the bottom of the ship, while the ashes were saved, wetted and

put below. The ballast-tanks were found to be leaking and Gillies had

considerable trouble in making them watertight.

The distance from the Western Base in Queen Mary Land to Hobart was two

thousand three hundred miles, through the turbulent seas of the fifties

and forties. It was the end of a perilous voyage when the 'Aurora'

arrived in Hobart with nine tons of coal.

On March 12, the captain's log records:

"The 'Aurora' has done splendidly, beating all attempts of the weather

to turn her over. We had two heavy gales during the first week of March,

but reached Hobart safely to-day, passing on our way up the Derwent the

famous Polar ship, 'Fram', at anchor in Sandy Bay. Flags were dipped and

a hearty cheer given for Captain Amundsen and his gallant comrades who

had raised the siege of the South Pole."

CHAPTER V FIRST DAYS IN ADELIE LAND

The overcrowded whale-boat disgorged its cargo at 10 P.M. on the

ice-quay at Cape Denison. The only shelter was a cluster of four tents

and the Benzine Hut, so the first consideration was the erection of a

commodious living-hut.

While the majority retired to rest to be ready for a fresh burst of work

on the morrow, a few of us discussed the preliminary details, and struck

the first blows in the laying of the foundations.

A site for the living-hut was finally approved. This was a nearly flat

piece of rocky ground of just sufficient size, partially sheltered on

the southern side by a large upstanding rock. Other points to recommend

it were, proximity to the boat harbour and to a good sledging surface;

the ice of the glacier extending to the "front door" on the western

side. Several large rocks had to be shifted, and difficulty was

anticipated in the firm setting of the stumps. The latter were blocks

of wood, three feet in length, embedded in the ground, forming the

foundation of the structure. Unfortunately, no such thing as earth or

gravel existed in which to sink these posts, and the rock being of the

variety known as gneiss, was more than ordinarily tough.

Since two parties had combined, there were two huts available, and these

were to be erected so that the smaller adjoined and was in the lee of

the larger. The latter was to be the living-room; the former serving

as a vestibule, a workshop and an engine-room for the wireless plant.

Slight modifications were made in the construction of both huts,

but these did not affect the framework. After the completion of the

living-hut, regular scientific observations were to commence, and the

smaller hut was then to be built as opportunity offered.

Nothing has so far been said about the type of hut adopted by our

Antarctic stations. As the subject is important, and we had expended

much thought thereon before coming to a final decision, a few remarks

will not be out of place.

Strength to resist hurricanes, simplicity of construction, portability

and resistance to external cold were fundamental. My first idea was

to have the huts in the form of pyramids on a square base, to ensure

stability in heavy winds and with a large floor-area to reduce the

amount of timber used. The final type was designed at the expense of

floor-space, which would have been of little use because of the low

roof in the parts thus eliminated. In this form, the pyramid extended

to within five feet of the ground on the three windward sides so as to

include an outside veranda. That veranda, like the motor-launch, was a

wonderful convenience, and another of the many things of which we made

full use. It lent stability to the structure, assisted to keep the hut

warm, served as a store-house, physical laboratory and a dogshelter.

Round the outside of the three veranda walls boxes of stores were

stacked, so as to continue the roof-slope to the ground. Thus, the wind

striking the hut met no vertical face, but was partly deflected; the

other force-component tending to pin the building to the ground.

All three huts were essentially of the same construction. The

largest, on account of its breadth, had four special supporting posts,

symmetrically placed near the centre, stretching from the ground to the

roof framework. The only subdivisions inside were a small vestibule, a

photographic darkroom and my own room. This rough idea I had handed

over to Hodgeman, leaving him to complete the details and to draw up

the plans. The frame timbers he employed were stronger than usual in a

building of the size, and were all securely bolted together. The

walls and roof, both inside and outside, were of tongued and grooved

pine-boards, made extra wind-proof by two courses of tarred paper. As

rain was not expected, this roofing was sufficient. There were four

windows in the roof, one on each side of the pyramid. We should thereby

get light even though almost buried in snow.

[TEXT ILLUSTRATION]

Plan of the hut, Adelie Land

The largest hut was presented by the timber merchants of Sydney, and

proved its astonishing strength during the winter hurricanes. The

smallest was purchased in Adelaide, the third was built and presented by

Messrs. Anthony of Melbourne.

On the morning of January 20 all were at work betimes. As we were

securely isolated from a trades hall, our hours of labour ranged from 7

A.M. till 11 P.M.

Dynamite was to be used for blasting out the holes for the reception

of the stumps, and so the steel rock-drills were unpacked and boring

commenced. This was easier than it appeared, because the rock was much

traversed by cracks. By the end of the day a good deal of damage had

been done to the rock, at the expense of a few sore fingers and wrists

caused by the sledge-hammers missing the drills. The work was tedious,

for water introduced into the holes had a habit of freezing. The

metal drills, too, tended to be brittle in the cold and required to be

tempered softer than usual. Hannam operated the forge, and picks and

drills were sent along for pointing; an outcrop of gneiss serving as an

anvil.

Among other things it was found difficult to fire the charges, for, when

frozen, dynamite is not readily exploded. This was overcome by carrying

the sticks inside one's pocket until the last moment. In the absence of

earth or clay, we had no tamping material until some one suggested guano

from the penguin rookeries, which proved a great success.

Next day the stumps were in place; most of them being fixed by wedges

and other devices. Cement was tried, but it is doubtful if any good came

of it, for the low temperature did not encourage it to set well. By the

evening, the bottom plates were laid on and bolted to the tops of the

stumps, and everything was ready for the superstructure.

On January 22, while some were busy with the floor-joists and

wall-frames, others carried boulders from the neighbouring moraine,

filling in the whole space between the stumps. These were eventually

embedded in a mass of boulders, as much as three feet deep in places.

By the time both huts were erected, nearly fifty tons of stones had been

used in the foundations--a circumstance we did not regret at a later

date.

Hodgeman was appointed clerk of works on the construction, and was

kept unusually busy selecting timber, patrolling among the workmen,

and searching for his foot-rule which had an unaccountable trick of

vanishing in thin air.

Hannam had various occupations, but one was to attend to the needs of

the inner man, until the completion of the hut. There is no doubt that

he was regarded at this time as the most important and popular member of

the party, for our appetites were abnormally good. About an hour before

meals he was to be seen rummaging amongst the cases of provisions,

selecting tins of various brands and hues from the great confusion.

However remote their source or diverse their colour, experience taught

us that only one preparation would emerge from the tent-kitchen. It was

a multifarious stew. Its good quality was undoubted, for a few minutes

after the "dinner-bell rang" there was not a particle left. The

"dinner-bell" was a lusty shout from the master cook, which was

re-echoed by the brawny mob who rushed madly to the Benzine Hut.

Plates and mugs were seized and portions measured out, while the diners

distributed themselves on odd boxes lying about on the ice. Many who

were accustomed to restaurants built tables of kerosene cases and

dined al fresco. After the limited stew, the company fared on cocoa,

biscuits--"hard tack"--and jam, all ad libitum.

On those rare summer days, the sun blazed down on the blue ice; skua

gulls nestled in groups on the snow; sly penguins waddled along to

inspect the building operations; seals basked in torpid slumber on

the shore; out on the sapphire bay the milk-white bergs floated in the

swell. We can all paint our own picture of the good times round the

Benzine Hut. We worked hard, ate heartily and enjoyed life.

By the evening of January 24 the floor and outside walls were finished,

and the roof-frame was in position. Work on the roof was the coldest

job of all, for now there was rarely an hour free from a cold breeze, at

times reaching the velocity of a gale. This came directly down from the

plateau, and to sit with exposed fingers handling hammer and nails was

not an enviable job. To add to our troubles, the boards were all badly

warped from being continually wet with sea-water on the voyage. However,

by judicious "gadgetting," as the phrase went, they were got into place.

[TEXT ILLUSTRATION]

Sections across the hut, Adelie Land

The windward roof was up on January 25, and several of us camped in

sleeping-bags under its shelter. Already Hannam had unpacked the large

range and put the parts together in the kitchen. Henceforth the cooking

operations were simplified, for previously a sledging-cooker had been

used.

Mention of the stove recalls a very cold episode. It happened that while

our goods were being lifted from the boats to the landing-stage, a case

had fallen into the harbour. When the parts of the stove were being

assembled, several important items were found to be missing, and it was

thought that they might compose the contents of the unknown case lying

in the kelp at the bottom of the bay.

Laseron and I went on board the whale-boat one day at low water, and

located the box with a pole, but though we used several devices with

hooks, we were unable to get hold of it. At last I went in, and,

standing on tip-toe, could just reach it and keep my head above

water. It took some time to extricate from the kelp, following which I

established a new record for myself in dressing. The case turned out to

be full of jam, and we had to make a new search for the missing parts.

I do not think I looked very exhilarated after that bath, but strange to

say, a few days later Correll tried an early morning swim which was the

last voluntary dip attempted by any one.

The enthusiasm of the builders rose to its highest pitch as the roof

neared completion, and we came in sight of a firm and solid habitation,

secure from the winds which harassed us daily. A dozen hammers worked at

once, each concentrated upon a specific job. The ardour with which those

engaged upon the ceiling inside the hut plied their nails resulted in

several minor casualties to those sitting on the roof, deeply intent

on the outer lining. A climax was reached when McLean, working on the

steeply inclined roof, lost his footing and, in passing, seized hold

of the wire-stay of the chimney as a last hope. Alas, that was the only

stay, and as he proceeded over the end of the roof into a bank of snow,

Ninnis, within the hut, convinced that nothing less than a cyclone had

struck the building, gallantly held on to the lower hot section amidst a

shower of soot.

Everybody was in the best of spirits, and things went ahead merrily. On

January 30 the main building was almost completed, and all slept under

its roof. Bunks had been constructed, forming a double tier around three

sides of the room. For the first time since coming ashore we retired

to sleep in blankets; fur sleeping-bags had been previously used. That

night the sky which had been clear for a fortnight banked up with nimbus

cloud, and Murphy, who was sleeping under a gap in the roof, woke up

next morning to find over him a fine counterpane of snow. He received

hearty congratulations all round.

Regular meteorological observations began on February 1. The various

instruments had been unpacked as soon as the outer shell of the Hut was

completed. The barometer and barograph were kept running inside. Outside

there were two large screens for the reception of a number of the

instruments. It was important to erect these as near the Hut as

possible. The standard thermometer, thermograph and hygrograph were to

occupy one of the screens, a convenient site for which was chosen about

twenty yards to the east. Close by there was also a nephoscope for

determining the motion of clouds. The immediate vicinity of the Hut,

being a gully-like depression, was unsuitable for the wind and sunshine

recorders. A more distant site, on a rocky ridge to the east, was chosen

for these. There were set up a recording anemometer (wind-velocity

meter), a sunshine-meter and the second screen containing the anemograph

(wind-direction recorder).

Madigan was to take charge of the meteorological observations and he,

assisted by Ninnis and Mertz, erected the two screens and mounted

the instruments. Special care was taken to secure the screens against

violent winds. Phosphor-bronze wire-stays, with a breaking strength of

one ton, were used, attached to billets of wood driven into fissures

in the rock. Strong as these wires were, several breakages had to be

replaced during the year.

Webb was busy with the magnetic work. For this two huts were to be

erected; the first for "absolute" determinations, the second for housing

the recording instruments--the magnetographs. Distant sites, away from

the magnetic disturbances of the Hut, were chosen. Webb and Stillwell

immediately set to work as soon as they could be spared from the

main building. For the "absolute hut" there were only scrap materials

available; the "magnetograph house," alone, had been brought complete.

They had a chilly job, for as the days went by the weather steadily

became worse. Yet in a little over a week there were only the finishing

touches to make, and the first observations were started.

It was now necessary to institute a routine of nightwatchmen, cooks and

messmen. The night-watchman's duties included periodic meteorological

observations, attention to the fire in the range, and other

miscellaneous duties arising between the hours of 8 P.M. and 8 A. M.

The cook prepared the meals, and the messman of the day rendered any

assistance necessary. A rotation was adopted, so arranged that those

most actively engaged in scientific observations were least saddled with

domestic duties. Thus each contributed his equivalent share of work.

Whilst others were occupied finishing off the interior of the

hut, Whetter and Close sledged the cases of stores across from the

landing-stage, classified them and stacked them against the veranda

walls. An additional barricade was constructed of flour cases, in the

form of a wall, which increased the breadth of the rocky break-wind on

the southern side.

Murphy, who was in charge of all the stores, saw that a good stock of

food was accessible in the veranda. Here he put up shelves and unpacked

cases, so that samples of everything were at hand on the shortest

notice. Liquids liable to freeze and burst their bottles were taken into

the Hut.

[TEXT ILLUSTRATION]

The vicinity of the main base, Adelie Land

Already we had several times seized the opportunity of a calm hour to

take out the whale-boat and assist Hunter to set traps and make a few

hauls with the hand-dredge. Even in five fathoms, bright red and brown

star-fish had been caught in the trap, as well as numerous specimens of

a common Antarctic fish known as 'Notothenia'. In ten fathoms and over

the results were better, though in no case was the catch so abundant

as one would expect from the amount of life in the water. The luxuriant

kelp probably interfered with the proper working of the traps. Fish of

the same species as the above were caught on a hand-line.

Hunter, our biologist, was very unfortunate in crushing some of his

fingers while carrying a heavy case. This accident came at a time when

he had just recovered from a severe strain of the knee-joint which he

suffered during our activities in the Queen's Wharf shed at Hobart.

Several of us were just going out to the traps one afternoon when the

casualty occurred. Hunter was very anxious to go, so we waited until

McLean had sewn up a couple of his fingertips.

Weddell, and with them occasional crab-eater seals, were at this time

always to be found in numbers sleeping on the ice-foot around the boat

harbour. It appeared as if we would have plenty of meat throughout the

year, so I waited until the building was completed before laying in a

stock. The penguins, however, were diminishing in numbers fast and the

young birds in the rookeries had grown very large and were beginning to

migrate to warmer regions. Several parties, therefore, raided them and

secured some hundreds for the winter.

Giant petrels and skua gulls swarmed in flocks round the seals' and

penguins' carcases. These scavengers demolish an incredible amount of

meat and blubber in a short time. It is a diabolical sight to witness a

group of birds tearing out the viscera of a seal, dancing the while with

wings outspread.

During the afternoon of February 11 Webb came in with the news that a

sea elephant was making its way over the rocks near the shore. We rushed

out in time to see it standing over Johnson, one of the dogs, who,

true to his name, did not look abashed. Attracted by more formidable

antagonists, the monster left Johnson and came towards us. He was a

fair-sized male with a good skin, so we shot him before he had time to

get back into the sea. His measurements were seventeen feet six inches

in length and twelve feet in maximum circumference.

With the temperature well below freezing-point, skinning is cold work in

the wind, and must be done before the animal has time to freeze stiff. A

number of us set to work flaying. In order to move the mountain of flesh

a Westing purchase and a "handy-billy" (rope and block purchase) had to

be rigged. It was several hours before everything was disposed of; the

skin and skull for the biological collection and the meat and blubber

for the dogs. Ninnis and Mertz, who were the wardens of the dogs, cut up

about one ton of meat and blubber, and stored it as a winter reserve for

their charges.

It may be mentioned that sea elephants are sub-antarctic in

distribution, and only rarely have these animals been observed on the

shores of the Antarctic continent. As far as I am aware, the only other

occasion of such an occurrence was noted by Captain Scott in MacMurdo

Sound. Wilkes reported many of them on the pack-ice to the north of the

Balleny Islands, so possibly they have a stronghold in that vicinity.

The dogs, ever since their arrival ashore, had been chained up on the

rocks below the Hut. The continuous wind worried them a good deal,

but they had a substantial offset to the cold in a plentiful supply of

seal-meat. On the whole, they were in a much better condition then when

they left the 'Aurora'. Nineteen in all, they had an odd assemblage

of names, which seemed to grow into them until nothing else was so

suitable: Basilisk, Betli, Caruso, Castor, Franklin, Fusilier, Gadget,

George, Ginger, Ginger Bitch, Grandmother, Haldane, Jappy, John Bull,

Johnson, Mary, Pavlova, Scott and Shackleton. Grandmother would have

been better known as Grandfather. He was said to have a grandmotherly

appearance; that is why he received the former name. The head dog was

Basilisk, and next to him came Shackleton.

Early in February, after having experienced nothing but a succession

of gales for nearly a month, I was driven to conclude that the average

local weather must be much more windy than in any other part of

Antarctica. The conditions were not at all favourable for sledging,

which I had hoped to commence as soon as the Hut was completed. Now that

the time had arrived and the weather was still adverse, it seemed clear

that our first duty was to see everything snug for the winter before

making an attempt.

Hannam, assisted by Bickerton, Madigan and others, had laid heavy and

firm foundations for the petrol-motor and generator. The floor of the

smaller room was then built around these bed-plates, and last of

all came the walls and roof. Murphy, Bage and Hodgeman were chiefly

responsible for the last-named, which was practically completed by

February 10. Minor additions and modifications were added after that

date. Meanwhile, Hannam continued to unpack and mount the instruments

forming the wireless plants. Along one wall and portion of another, in

the outer hut, a bench was built for mechanical work and for scientific

purposes. This was in future to be the work-room.

Our home had attained to a stage of complex perfection. To penetrate to

the inside hut, the stranger reverently steps through a hole in the snow

to the veranda, then by way of a vestibule with an inner and outer door

he has invaded the privacy of the work-room, from which with fear and

trembling he passes by a third door into the sanctum sanctorum. Later,

when the snow-tunnel system came into vogue, the place became another

Labyrinth of Minos.

The three doors were fitted with springs to keep them shut unless they

were jammed open for ventilation, which was at once obtained by opening

an aperture in the cooking-range flue. A current of air would then

circulate through the open doors. The roof windows were immovable and

sealed on the inside by a thick accumulation of ice. An officer of

public health, unacquainted with the climate of Adelie Land, would be

inclined to regard the absence of more adequate ventilation as a serious

omission. It would enlighten him to know that much of our spare time,

for a month after the completion of the building, was spent in plugging

off draughts which found their way through most unexpected places, urged

by a wind-pressure from without of many pounds to the square foot.

Excepting the small portion used as an entrance-porch, the verandas were

left without any better flooring than well-trodden snow. In the boarded

floor of the porch was a trap-door which led down into a shallow

cellar extending under a portion of the work-room. The cellar was a

refrigerating chamber for fresh meat and contained fifteen carcases of

mutton, besides piles of seal-meat and penguins.

In preparation for our contemplated sledging, masts, spars and

sails were fitted to some of the sledges, rations were prepared and

alterations made to harness and clothing. Soon a sledge stood packed,

ready to set out on the first fine day.

For several days in succession, about the middle of February, the

otherwise continuous wind fell off to a calm for several hours in the

evening. On those occasions Mertz gave us some fine exhibitions of

skiing, of which art he was a consummate master. Skis had been provided

for every one, in case we should have to traverse a country where the

snow lay soft and deep. From the outset, there was little chance of that

being the case in wind-scoured Adelie Land. Nevertheless, most of the

men seized the few opportunities we had to become more practiced in

their use. My final opinion, however, was that if we had all been

experts like Mertz, we could have used them with advantage from time to

time.

The end of February approached. We were fully prepared for sledging,

and were looking forward to it with great expectation. The wind still

continued, often rising to the force of a hurricane, and was mostly

accompanied by snow.

One evening, when we were all at dinner, there was a sudden noise which

drowned the rush of the blizzard. It was found that several sledges had

been blown away from their position to the south of the Hut, striking

the building as they passed. They were all rescued except one, which had

already reached the sea and was travelling rapidly toward Australia.

Mertz, Bage and I had taken advantage of a lull to ascend the ice-slope

to the south, and to erect a flag-pole at a distance of two miles.

Besides being a beacon for sledging parties, it was used for ablation

measurements. These were determinations of the annual wasting of the

ice-surface, whether by evaporation, melting, or wind-abrasion.

Webb and Stillwell, assisted by others, had commenced to build the

Magnetograph House. Dr. Chree, of the British National Physical

Laboratory, had arranged that the German Antarctic Expedition, several

observatories in low latitudes and our own Expedition, should take

special "quick runs," synchronously, twice each month. A "quick run" was

a continuous, careful observation made over a period of two hours, on a

more searching time-scale then usual. Until the Magnetograph House was

established this could not be done efficiently, and so the construction

of this hut was pushed on as quickly as possible.

Many other schemes required our attention, and there was not a spare

moment for any one. Though we chafed at the delay in sledging, there

was some consolation in the fact that the scientific programme was daily

becoming more and more complete.

CHAPTER VI AUTUMN PROSPECTS

As far as we could see, the inland ice was an unbroken plateau with no

natural landmarks. From the hinterland in a vast solid stream the ice

flowed, with heavily crevassed downfalls near the coast. Traversing this

from north to south was a narrow belt, reasonably free from pitfalls,

running as a spur down to the sea. To reach the Hut in safety it would

be necessary for sledging parties returning from the interior to descend

by this highway. The problem was to locate the path. Determinations

of latitude and longitude would guide them to the neighbourhood of

Commonwealth Bay, but the coastline in the vicinity of Winter Quarters,

with the rocks and islets, would not come into view until within two

miles, as above that point the icy slopes filled the foreground up to

the distant berg-studded horizon. Delays in reaching the Hut owing to

the difficult descent might have serious consequences, for provisions

are usually short near the conclusion of a sledging journey.

The necessity of making artificial landmarks was, therefore, most

obvious. Already we had a flagstaff two miles to the south. It was now

my intention to run a line of similar marks backwards to the plateau.

Bage, Madigan and I were to form a reconnoitring party to plant

these flags, and to make a journey of a few days' duration into the

hinterland, to see its possibilities, and with a view to an extended

sledging campaign to commence as soon as possible after our return. It

was decided not to make use of the dogs until later in the year, when

they would be in better form.

The wind continued, accompanied by more or less drift-snow. This

appeared to be the settled state of the weather. We decided to move out

as soon as a moderate phase should occur.

On the afternoon of February 28 the weather cleared up for several

hours, and we decided to leave on the following day. The wind resumed

operations once more, but fell off late on February 29, when we made a

start. We intended to get the packed sledge up the first steep slope,

there to leave it until the morrow. The drift was slight and low,

flowing along like a stream below our knees. Bickerton, Hurley and Mertz

assisted us with the hauling. At a distance of a little more than a

mile, at an elevation of five hundred feet, the sledge was anchored and

we returned to the Hut for the night.

Next morning the weather cleared still more, and we left just before

noon. Three miles out, a mast and flag were erected, when our companions

of the day before, who had again assisted us, turned back. At five and

a half miles the brow of the main rise was reached, and the gradient

became much flatter beyond it. The elevation was found to be one

thousand five hundred feet.

To the south nothing was visible but a great, wan, icy wilderness. To

the north a headland appeared on either hand, each about twenty-five

miles away, and between them lay an expanse of sea dotted with many

bergs. The nearer portions of the coast, together with the Mackellar

Islets, were lost to view on account of the curvature of the foreground.

During most of the day we had travelled over a surface of clear ice,

marked by occasional scars where fissuring, now healed, had at some time

taken place. Beyond the three-mile flag, however, the ice was gashed at

frequent intervals, producing irregular crevasses, usually a few yards

in length and, for the most part, choked with snow. At five and a half

miles we were on the edge of a strip of snow, half a mile across,

whose whiteness was thrown in dazzling contrast against the foil of

transparent, dark ice.

It was dusk, and light drift commenced to scud by, so, as this was a

suitable place to erect a flag, we decided to camp for the night. Some

hours later I woke up to hear a blizzard blowing outside, and to find

Madigan fumbling amongst some gear at the head-end of the tent. From

inside my bag I called out to inquire if there was anything wrong, and

received a reply that he was looking for the primus-pricker. Then he

slipped back into his sleeping-bag, and all became quiet, except for

the snow beating against the tent. So I presumed that he had found it.

Revolving the incident in my mind, and dimly wondering what use he

could have for a primus-pricker in the middle of the night, I again fell

asleep. In the morning the blizzard was still blowing, accompanied by a

good deal of drift. On inquiry I found that Madigan knew nothing of his

midnight escapade. It was a touch of somnambulism.

It would serve no useful purpose to go on in thick drift, for the main

object of our journey was to define the best route through the

crevassed zone; and that could only be done on a clear day. I decided,

accordingly, that if the weather did not improve by noon to leave the

sledge with the gear and walk back to the Hut, intending to make another

attempt when conditions became more settled.

Whilst the others erected a flagstaff and froze the legs of a

drift-proof box (containing a thermograph) into the ice, I made lunch

and prepared for our departure. The tent was taken down and everything

lashed securely on the sledge.

It was nearly 3 P.M. when we set out in thick drift, and in two hours we

were at the Hut; the weather having steadily improved as we descended.

On comparing notes with those at home it appeared that we, at the

fifteen hundred feet level, had experienced much more wind and drift

than they at sea-level.

Webb and his assistants were beginning to make quite a display at the

Magnetograph House. The framework, which had already been erected once,

to be demolished by the wind, was now strongly rebuilt and was ready for

the outside covering of boards.

From the night of our return to March 8 there was a high wind

accompanied by much drift; for some hours it continued at eighty miles

per hour, the mean temperature being about 15 degrees F., with a minimum

of 5 degrees F.

Up to this date the dogs had been kept on the chain, on account of their

depredations amongst the seals and penguins. The severe weather now made

it necessary to release them. Thenceforth, their abode for part of the

day was inside the veranda, where a section was barricaded-off for

their exclusive use. Outside in heavy drift their habit was to take up

a position in the lee of some large object, such as the Hut. In such a

position they were soon completely buried and oblivious to the outside

elements. Thus one would sometimes tread on a dog, hidden beneath the

snow; and the dog often showed less surprise than the offending man.

What the dogs detested most of all during the blizzard-spells was the

drift-snow filling their eyes until they were forced to stop and brush

it away frantically with their paws. Other inconveniences were the icy

casing which formed from the thawing snow on their thick coats, and

the fact that when they lay in one position, especially on ice, for any

length of time they become frozen down, and only freed themselves at

the expense of tufts of hair. In high winds, accompanied by a low

temperature, they were certainly very miserable, unless in some kind of

shelter.

Several families were born at this time, but although we did everything

possible for them they all perished, except one; the offspring of

Gadget. This puppy was called "Blizzard." It was housed for a while in

the veranda and, later on, in the Hangar. Needless to say, Blizzard was

a great favourite and much in demand as a pet.

On the night of March 7, Caruso, who had been in poor condition for some

time, was found to have a gaping wound around the neck. It was a clean

cut, an inch deep and almost a foot in length. The cause was never

satisfactorily explained, though a piece of strong string embedded in

the wound evidently made the incision. Caruso was brought inside, and,

whilst Whetter administered chloroform, McLean sewed up the wound. After

careful attention for some days, it healed fairly well, but as the dog's

general health was worse, it was deemed advisable to shoot him.

The outer shell of the Magnetograph House was nearly completed,

affording a protection for those who worked on the interior linings.

When completed, the walls and roof consisted of two coverings of tongued

and grooved pine boards and three layers of thick tarred paper.

While there still remained a breach in the wall, Hurley repaired there

with his cinematograph camera and took a film showing the clouds of

drift-snow whirling past. In those days we were not educated in methods

of progression against heavy winds; so, in order to get Hurley and his

bulky camera back to the Hut, we formed a scrum on the windward side and

with a strong "forward" rush beat our formidable opponent.

On March 8 the blizzard died away and a good day followed. All hands

joined in building a solid stone outside of the Magnetograph House. This

piece of work, in which thirty tons of rock were utilized, was completed

on the following day. The wall reached almost to the roof on every side.

The unprotected roof was lagged with sacks and sheep-skins and, after

this had been effected, the hut became practically windtight. The

external covering controlled the influx of cold from the penetrating

winds, and, on the other hand, the conduction of the sun's warmth in

summer. Thus a steady temperature was maintained; a most desirable

feature in a magnetograph house. Webb had the instruments set up in a

few days, and they were working before the end of the month.

After the calm of March 8, the wind steadily increased and became worse

than ever. Madigan, who was in charge of the whale-boat, kept it moored

in the boat-harbour under shelter of the ice-foot. An excursion was made

to the fish traps, buoyed half a mile off shore, on February 8, and it

was found that one had been carried away in the hurricane. The other was

brought in very much battered. That night it was decided at the first

opportunity to haul up the boat and house it for the winter. Alas! the

wind came down again too quickly, increasing in force, with dense drift.

It was still in full career on the 12th, when Madigan came in with

the news that the boat had disappeared. It was no fault of the

rope-attachments for they were securely made and so we were left to

conclude that a great mass of ice had broken away from the overhanging

shelf and carried everything before it.

The regularity of the high-velocity winds was already recognized as

one of the most remarkable features of Adelie Land. By itself such

wind would have been bad enough, but, accompanied by dense volumes of

drifting snow, it effectually put a stop to most outdoor occupations.

The roof and walls of the veranda being covered with a single layer

of tongued and grooved boards, the snow drove through every chink.

The cases outside were a partial protection, but the cracks were

innumerable, and in the course of twenty-four hours the snow inside had

collected in deep drifts. This required to be shovelled out each day or

the veranda would have been entirely blocked.

Much time was spent endeavouring to make it drift-tight; but as the

materials at our disposal were very limited, the result was never

absolutely satisfactory. The small veranda serving as an entrance-porch

was deluged with snow which drove in past the canvas doorway. The only

way to get over this trouble was to shovel out the accumulations every

morning. On one occasion, when Close was nightwatchman, the drift poured

through in such volume that each time he wished to go outside it took

him half an hour to dig his way out. On account of this periodic influx,

the vestibule doorway to the workroom was moved to the other end of the

wall, where the invading snow had farther to travel and was consequently

less obstructive.

One advantage of the deposit of snow around the Hut was that all

draughts were sealed off. Before this happened it was found very

difficult to keep the inside temperature up to 40 deg. F. A temperature

taken within the Hut varied according to the specific position in

reference to the walls and stove. That shown by the thermometer attached

to the standard barometer, which was suspended near the centre of the

room, was taken as the "hut temperature". Near the floor and walls it

was lower, and higher, of course, near the stove. On one occasion,

in the early days, I remember the "hut temperature" being 19 deg. F.,

notwithstanding the heat from the large range. Under these conditions

the writing-ink and various solutions all over the place froze, and,

when the night-watchman woke up the shivering community he had many

clamorous demands to satisfy. The photographer produced an interesting

product from the dark room--a transparent cast of a developing-dish in

which a photographic plate left overnight to wash was firmly set.

We arranged to maintain an inside temperature of 40 degrees F.; when it

rose to 50 degrees F. means were taken to reduce it. The cooking-range,

a large one designed to burn anthracite coal, was the general warming

apparatus. To raise the temperature quickly, blocks of seal blubber, of

which there was always a supply at hand, were used. The coal consumption

averaged one hundred pounds a day, approximately, this being reduced at

a later date to seventy-five pounds by employing a special damper for

the chimney. The damper designed for ordinary climates allowed too

much draught to be sucked through during the high winds which prevailed

continually.

The chimney was fitted with a cowl which had to be specially secured to

keep it in place. During heavy drifts the cowl became choked with snow

and ice, and the Hut would rapidly fill with smoke until some one,

hurriedly donning burberrys, rushed out with an ice-axe to chip an

outlet for the draught. The chimney was very short and securely stayed,

projecting through the lee side of the roof, where the pressure of the

wind was least felt.

The first good display of aurora polaris was witnessed during the

evening of March 12, though no doubt there had been other exhibitions

obscured by the drift. As the days went by and the equinox drew near,

auroral phenomena were with few exceptions visible on clear evenings. In

the majority of cases they showed up low in the northern sky.

In the midst of a torment of wind, March 15 came as a beautiful, sunny,

almost calm day. I remarked in my diary that it was "typical Antarctic

weather," thinking of those halcyon days which belong to the climate of

the southern shores of the Ross Sea. In Adelie Land, we were destined to

find, it was hard to number more than a dozen or two in the year.

A fine day! the psychological effect was remarkable; pessimism vanished,

and we argued that with the passing of the equinox there would be a

marked change for the better. Not a moment was lost: some were employed

in making anchorages for the wireless masts; others commenced to

construct a Hangar to house the air-tractor sledge.

In building the Hangar, the western wall of the Hut was used for one

side; the low southern end and the western wall were constructed of full

and empty cases, the lee side was closed with a tarpaulin and blocks

of snow and over all was nailed a roof of thick timber--part of the

air-tractor's case. To stiffen the whole structure, a small amount of

framework, in the form of heavy uprights, was set in the ground. The

dimensions inside were thirty-four feet by eleven feet; the height,

eleven feet at the northern and six feet at the southern end. As a

break-wind a crescent-shaped wall of benzine cases was built several

yards to the south. As in the case of the veranda, it was very difficult

to make the Hangar impervious to drift; a certain quantity of snow

always made its way in, and was duly shovelled out.

Seals had suddenly become very scarce, no doubt disgusted with the

continuous winds. Every one that came ashore was shot for food.

Unfortunately, the amount of meat necessary for the dogs throughout the

winter was so great that dog-biscuits had to be used to eke it out.

Only a few penguins remained by the middle of March. They were all young

ones, waiting for the completion of their second moult before taking to

the sea. The old feathers hung in untidy tufts, and the birds were often

in a wretched plight owing to the wind and drift-snow. Many were added

to the bleaching carcases which fill the crevices or lie in heaps

on ancient rookeries among the rocky ridges. None were free from the

encumbrance of hard cakes of snow which often covered their eyes or

dangled in pendent icicles from their bodies. The result was very

ludicrous.

Hurley obtained some excellent photographs of the seals and penguins, as

of all other subjects. So good were they that most of us withdrew

from competition. His enthusiasm and resourcefulness knew no bounds.

Occasional days, during which cameras that had been maltreated by the

wind were patched up, were now looked upon as inevitable. One day, when

Webb and Hurley were both holding on to the cinematograph camera, they

were blown away, with sundry damages all around. It was later in

the year when Hurley with his whole-plate camera broke through the

sea-ice--a sad affair for the camera.

The good conditions on the 15th lasted only a few hours, and back came

the enemy as bad as ever. On the 18th the wind was only thirty miles per

hour, giving us an opportunity of continuing the buildings outside.

It was only by making the most of every odd hour when the weather was

tolerable that our outdoor enterprises made any headway. Sometimes when

it was too windy for building we were able to improve our knowledge of

the neighbourhood.

A glance at Stillwell's map is instruct*e as to the extent and character

of the rocky area. It is devoid of any forms of vegetation sufficiently

prominent to meet the casual eye. Soil is lacking, for all light

materials and even gravel are carried away by the winds. The bare rock

rises up into miniature ridges, separated by valleys largely occupied

by ice-slabs and lakelets. Snow fills all the crevices and tails away

in sloping ramps on the lee side of every obstacle. In midsummer a good

deal thaws, and, re-freezing, is converted into ice. The highest point

of the rock is one hundred and forty feet. The seaward margin is deeply

indented, and the islets off shore tell of a continuation of the rugged,

rocky surface below the sea. On the northern faces of the ridges,

fronting the ice-foot, large, yellowish patches mark the sites of

penguin rookeries. These are formed by a superficial deposit of guano

which never becomes thick, for it blows away as fast as it accumulates.

Standing on the shore, one can see kelp growing amongst the rocks even

in the shallowest spots, below low-water level.

To the south, the rocks are overridden by the inland ice which bears

down upon and overwhelms them. The ice-sheet shows a definite basal

moraine, which means that the lowest stratum, about forty feet in

thickness, is charged with stones and earthy matter. Above this stratum

the ice is free from foreign matter and rises steeply to several hundred

feet, after which the ascending gradient is reduced.

The continental glacier moves down to the sea, regularly but slowly; the

rate of movement of some portions of the adjacent coastal ice cliffs was

found to be one hundred feet per annum. The rocky promontory at Winter

Quarters, acting as an obstacle, reduces the motion of the ice to

an annual rate measured in inches only. Perhaps the conditions now

prevailing are those of a comparative "drought," for there is clear

evidence that our small promontory was at one time completely enveloped.

In a broad way this is illustrated by the topography, but the final

proof came when Stillwell and others discovered rock-faces polished and

grooved by the ice.

Whatever "ice-floods" there may have been in the past, the position of

the margin of the glacier must have remained for a long period in its

present situation. The evidence for this is found in the presence of

a continuous, terminal moraine, at or just in advance of the present

ice-front. This moraine, an accumulation of stones of all kinds brought

to their present resting-place by the ice-sheet, was in itself a

veritable museum. Rocks, showing every variety in colour and form, were

assembled, transported from far and wide over the great expanse of the

continent.

[TEXT ILLUSTRATION]

A section of the coastal slope of the Continental Ice Sheet inland from

Winter Quarters, Adelie Land

Stillwell found these moraines a "happy hunting-ground" for the

geologist. His plane-table survey and rock collections are practical

evidence of work carried out in weather which made it seldom short of an

ordeal.

The story of the buried land to the south is in large measure revealed

in the samples brought by the ice and so conveniently dumped. Let us

swiftly review the operations leading to the deposition of this natural

museum.

As the ice of the hinterland moves forward, it plucks fragments from

the rocky floor. Secure in its grip, these are used as graving-tools

to erode its bed. Throwing its whole weight upon them it grinds and

scratches, pulverizes and grooves. The rocky basement is gradually

reduced in level, especially the softer regions. The tools are faceted,

polished and furrowed, for ever moving onwards. Finally, the rock-powder

or "rock-flour," as it is termed, and the boulders, thenceforth known

as "erratics," arrive at the terminal ice-face. Here, the melting due to

the sun's heat keeps pace with the "on-thrust" and some of the erratics

may remain stationary, or else, floating in the sea, a berg laden with

boulders breaks off and deposits its load in the depths of the ocean.

Each summer the ice-face above the rocks at Winter Quarters thawed back

a short distance and the water ran away in rivulets, milky-white on

account of the "rock-flour" in suspension. The pebbles and boulders too

heavy to be washed away remained behind to form the moraine.

The "erratics" comprised a great variety of metamorphic and igneous

rocks, and, on a more limited scale, sedimentary types. Amongst the

latter were sandstones, slates, shales and limestones.

Apart from the moraines, the rock exposed in situ was mainly a uniform

type of gneiss, crumpled and folded, showing all the signs of great

antiquity--pre-Cambrian, in the geological phrase. Relieving the grey

sheen of the gneiss were dark bands of schist which tracked about in an

irregular manner. Sporadic quartz veins here and there showed a light

tint. They were specially interesting, for they carried some less common

minerals such as beryl, tourmaline, garnet, coarse mica and ores of

iron, copper and molybdenum. The ores were present in small quantities,

but gave promise of larger bodies in the vicinity and indicated the

probability of mineral wealth beneath the continental ice-cap.

CHAPTER VII THE BLIZZARD

The equinox arrived, and the only indication of settled weather was a

more marked regularity in the winds. Nothing like it had been reported

from any part of the world. Any trace of elation we may have felt at

this meteorological discovery could not compensate for the ever-present

discomforts of life. Day after day the wind fluctuated between a gale

and a hurricane. Overcast skies of heavy nimbus cloud were the rule and

the air was continually charged with drifting snow.

Lulls of a singular nature occasionally relieved the monotony. During

these visitations the sequence of events could almost be predicted;

indeed, they would often occur at the same time on several succeeding

days.

On March 19 the first well-marked lull intervened at the height of a

gale. On that day the wind, which had been blowing with great force

during the morning, commenced to subside rapidly just after noon.

Towards evening, the air about the Hut was quite still except for gusts

from the north and rather frequent "whirlies."

This was the name adopted for whirlwinds of a few yards to a hundred

yards or more in diameter which came to be regarded as peculiar to the

country. Similar disturbances have been observed in every part of the

world, but seldom possessed of the same violence and regularity as is

the case in Adelie Land.

The whirlies tracked about in a most irregular manner and woe betide any

light object which came in their path. The velocity of the wind in the

rotating column being very great, a corresponding lifting power was

imparted to it. As an illustration of this force, it may be mentioned

that the lid of the air-tractor case had been left lying on the snow

near the Hut. It weighed more than three hundredweights, yet it was

whisked into the air one morning and dropped fifty yards away in a

north-easterly direction. An hour afterwards it was picked up again and

returned near its original position, this time striking the rocks with

such force that part of it was shivered to pieces. Webb and Stillwell

watched the last proceeding at a respectful distance.

Again, the radius of activity of these whirlies was strictly limited;

objects directly in their path only being disturbed. For instance,

Laseron one day was skinning at one end of a seal and remained in

perfect calm, while McLean, at the other extremity, was on the edge of a

furious vortex.

Travelling over the sea the whirlies displayed fresh capabilities.

Columns of brash-ice, frozen spray and water-vapour were frequently seen

lifted to heights of from two hundred to four hundred feet, simulating

water spouts.

Reverting to the afternoon of March 19. Beyond the strange stillness of

the immediate vicinity, broken occasionally by the tumult of a passing,

wandering whirly, an incessant, seething roar could be heard. One could

not be certain from whence it came, but it seemed to proceed either

from the south or overhead. Away on the icy promontories to the east and

west, where the slopes were visible, mounting to an altitude of several

thousand feet, clouds of drift-snow blotted out the details of the

surface above a level of about six hundred feet. It certainly appeared

as if the gale, for some reason, had lifted and was still raging

overhead. At 7.30 P.M. the sound we had heard, like the distant lashing

of ocean waves, became louder. Soon gusts swept the tops of the rocky

ridges, gradually descending to throw up the snow at a lower level.

Then a volley raked the Hut, and within a few minutes we were once more

enveloped in a sea of drifting snow, and the wind blew stronger than

ever.

The duration of the lulls was ordinarily from a few minutes to several

hours; that of March 19 was longer than usual. In the course of time,

after repeated observations, much light was thrown on this phenomenon.

On one occasion, a party ascending the ice slopes to the south met the

wind blowing at an elevation of four hundred feet. At the same time

snow could be seen pouring over the "Barrier" to the west of the Winter

Quarters, and across a foaming turmoil of water. This was evidently the

main cause of the seething roar, but it was mingled with an undernote

of deeper tone from the upland plateau--like the wind in a million

tree-tops.

In the early spring, while we were transporting provisions to the

south, frequent journeys were made to higher elevations. It was then

established that even when whole days of calm prevailed at the Hut, the

wind almost without exception blew above a level of one thousand

feet. On such occasions it appeared that the gale was impelled to blow

straight out from the plateau slopes over a lower stratum of dead-air.

An explanation was thereby afforded of the movement of condensation

clouds which appeared in the zenith at these times. A formation of

delicate, gauzy clouds developed at a low altitude, apparently in still

air, but doubtless at the base of a hurricane stratum. Whirling round

rapidly in eddying flocculi, they quickly tailed away to the north,

evaporating and disappearing.

The auditory sense was strangely affected by these lulls. The contrast

was so severe when the racking gusts of an abating wind suddenly gave

way to intense, eerie silence, that the habitual droning of many weeks

would still reverberate in the ears. At night one would involuntarily

wake up if the wind died away, and be loth to sleep "for the hunger of

a sound." In the open air the stillness conveyed to the brain an

impression of audibility, interpreted as a vibratory murmur.

During one hour on March 22 it blew eighty-six miles. On the morning

of that day there was not much snow in the air and the raging sea was a

fearful sight. Even the nearest of the islands, only half a mile off the

land, was partially hidden in the clouds of spray. What an impossible

coast this would be for the wintering of a ship!