My plan was to go through Bass Strait and then to sail towards the

Royal Company Islands as given on the French chart, before heading for

Macquarie Island. From thence we should steam across to the Auckland

Islands. At both the latter places Mr. Waite would be able to secure

specimens. It was not expected that the weather would permit of much

trawling, but we anticipated some good soundings. As a matter of

fact, sub-antarctic weather in the winter may be predicted with some

certainty: strong winds, heavy seas, much fog and general gloom.

We had a fine run through Bass Strait with a light south-east breeze,

arriving off King's Island at noon on May 28. The trawling gear was

got ready for the following day, but the sea was too high and the ship

continued south towards the position of the Royal Company Islands.

On June 1 we were in latitude 53 degrees south, longitude 152 degrees

east, and had been cruising about fruitlessly in heavy weather for days

waiting for an opportunity to dredge. After being at sea for a whole

fortnight we had only three soundings to our credit, and it was,

therefore, resolved to make for Macquarie Island.

On the 7th we reached the island and anchored at North-East Bay in

twelve fathoms, about one mile from land.

After a stiff pull ashore, next day, we landed and found the party all

well. They had built a comfortable hut and were enjoying life as far as

possible, despite the constant gales and continuous days of fog.

We then climbed up the hill to the wireless station, where everything

was in splendid order. Two small huts had been erected, one for the

engine and the other for the receiving apparatus. Sandell and Sawyer,

the two operators, were to be congratulated on the efficient way the

station had been kept going under very considerable difficulty. In

addition to the routine work with Hobart and Wellington they had

occasionally communicated with stations over two thousand miles distant.

I was able to send the following message to Professor David: "'Aurora'

arrived Macquarie Island; all well, June 7; constant gales and high seas

have prevented dredging so far. Royal Company Islands not found in the

position indicated on the chart."

We were able to land some stores for the use of the land party under

Ainsworth. Meteorological, biological and geological work were all in

progress and the scientific records should be of great value. Up to the

date of our arrival, no wireless messages had been received from Adelie

Land. As Dr. Mawson was in ignorance of its exact location, the position

of the Western Base under Wild was given to Ainsworth to forward to

Adelie Land in case communication should be established.

After Mr. Waite had obtained several birds, it was decided to move down

to Lusitania Bay to secure some Royal penguins and a sea-elephant. Two

days later, the 'Aurora' anchored in the bay, three-quarters of a mile

from the beach, in sixteen fathoms; the weather was very misty. Mr.

Waite and Mr. Haines, the taxidermist, were rowed ashore.

The island, above a height of three hundred feet from sea-level, was

shrouded in mist throughout the day, and, before dark, all signs of the

land had disappeared. The mist did not clear until 6 P.M. on the 15th.

We stayed for a whole fortnight at Macquarie Island, during which time

the highest velocity of the wind recorded on shore was thirty-five

miles per hour, although, during the winter, gales are almost of daily

occurrence. On June 22, the date of departure, a course was set for the

Auckland Islands, which lie in the track of homeward-bound vessels from

Australia via Cape Horn.

The group was discovered in 1806 by Captain Bristow of the 'Ocean',

owned by Samuel Enderby. It comprises one main island and several

smaller ones, separated by narrow channels. There are two spacious

harbours; a northern, now called Port Ross, and a southern, Carnley

Harbour. The islands are situated about one hundred and eighty miles

south of Stewart Island (New Zealand).

After a run of three hundred and forty miles on a northeast course, we

entered Carnley Harbour and anchored off Flagstaff Point. A breeze blew

strong from the west-northwest. Next day, June 25, we stood up to Figure

of Eight Island and found good holding for the anchor in nine and a half

fathoms.

The eastern entrance to Carnley Harbour is formed by two bluff points,

about two miles apart; its upper extremity terminating in a lagoon.

The site of Musgrave's house ("Epigwaith") is on the east side of this

lagoon. Here he spent twenty months after the wreck of the 'Grafton'.

[TEXT ILLUSTRATION]

Auckland Island (from the Admiralty Chart) showing the track of the

'Aurora'

We set off in the motor-launch on the 26th to visit Camp Cove, where

we found the two huts maintained by the New Zealand Government for the

benefit of castaways. In the larger hut there were potatoes, biscuits,

tinned meats and matches. The smaller hut was empty but on the outside

were carved many names of shipwrecked mariners. The 'Amakura' had

visited the depot in November 1911. The various depots established on

the island by the New Zealand Government are visited every six months.

While in Carnley Harbour we were able to make several hauls with the

small dredge.

After passing up the eastern coast of the main island we entered Port

Ross and anchored west of Shoe Island. On June 30 the depot on Erebus

Cove was visited, where three white sheds contain the usual necessaries

for unfortunate castaways. The New Zealand Government steamer,

'Hinemoa', while on a scientific expedition to the Sub-Antarctic in

1907, rescued the sixteen survivors of the barque 'Dundonald',

two thousand two hundred and three tons, which had been wrecked on

Disappointment Island. The captain and ten men had been drowned and the

chief officer had died from the effects of exposure and starvation.

On July 2 we went to Observation Point, finding there a flat stone

commemorating the visit of the German Scientific Expedition of 1874.

The biologist found various kinds of petrels on Shoe Island, where the

turf was riddled in all directions by their burrows.

At Rose Island, close by, there are some fine basaltic columns, eighty

feet high, weathered out into deep caverns along their base.

In Sandy Bay, Enderby Island, there was an extensive depot. Among the

stores I found a Venesta case marked s.y. 'Nimrod', which contained

dried vegetables and evidently formed part of the stores which were sold

on the return of the British Antarctic Expedition of 1907.

After leaving the Auckland Islands for New Zealand, we were fortunate in

having fairly good weather. Five soundings were taken, and, on July 9,

the trawl was put over in three hundred and forty-five fathoms. The

net unfortunately fouled on a rocky bottom and so we gained nothing but

experience in the operation.

The 'Aurora' arrived at Port Lyttleton on July 11 and we received a very

kind welcome from the people of Christchurch. Mr. J. J. Kinsey, well

known in connexion with various British Antarctic expeditions, gave us

valuable assistance during our stay. We were back again in Melbourne on

the 17th of the month.

While the first oceanographical cruise of the 'Aurora' did not prove

very fruitful in results, chiefly on account of the stormy weather, it

provided the necessary training for officers and men in the handling

of the deep-sea gear, and we were able to realize later how much we had

learnt on our first cruise.

The ship, after undergoing a thorough overhaul at the State dockyard at

Williamstown, Victoria, undertook a second deep-sea cruise.

Leaving Hobart on November 12, 1912, she laid her course to the

southward in order to obtain soundings for a complete section of the

sea-floor, as nearly as possible on the meridian of Hobart. Our time was

limited to one month, during which a visit to Macquarie Island for the

purpose of landing stores and mail had to be made. Professor T. Flynn

of Hobart University accompanied the vessel in charge of the biological

work.

An interesting discovery was made two hundred miles south of Tasmania.

Here it was proved that a rocky ridge rose like a huge mountain from

depths of more than two thousand fathoms to within five hundred and

forty fathoms of the surface. A great number of soundings were taken

in the vicinity of this rise, subsequently named the Mill Rise, until a

heavy gale drove us far from its situation.

On November 21 we were not far from Macquarie Island and, at 7 P.M.,

sounded in one thousand four hundred and fifty fathoms. As the weather

was remarkably fine for these latitudes we decided to lower the trawl.

Before dark it was being towed slowly towards the east with one thousand

nine hundred fathoms of wire out.

We spent an anxious night hoping that the weather would remain fine long

enough to permit us to get the gear on board again. We had been driving

before a light westerly wind, when the trawl caught on the bottom and

stopped the vessel.

A very heavy strain was imposed on the wire as the vessel rose in the

swell; the dynamometer registering up to seven tons. I decided to wait

for daylight before attempting to heave in the trawl. At 3 A.M. we cast

the wire off the after-block and started to heave away; it was two hours

before the trawl cleared the bottom and the strain was reduced.

At 8 A.M. the trawl was once more on board, the frames being bent and

twisted and the net badly torn. On sounding, the depth was found to be

only six hundred and thirty-six fathoms, so that we had evidently put

over the trawl on to the edge of a steep rise and then drifted across

it.

In view of our position--only thirty miles from Macquarie Island--this

accident might have been expected. But opportunities of trawling had

been so few that risks had to be taken when the weather quieted down for

a few hours. Our only consolation on this occasion was that we recovered

the gear.

The following evening, at 7.30, the anchor was dropped in North-East

Bay, Macquarie Island, and we were immediately boarded by our land party

who were all well. They had become very clever boatmen during their

stay, using a small dinghy to make coastal journeys.

On November 24 we left the anchorage at 9 A.M. and spent the day in its

vicinity. More than one hundred soundings were taken, which Blake, the

geological surveyor, was to plot on the chart of the island which he had

almost completed.

Some idea of the steepness of the submarine mountain of which Macquarie

Island forms the crest may be gathered from a sounding, taken ten and a

half miles east of the island, which gave two thousand seven hundred and

forty-five fathoms and no bottom. In other words, if the sea were to dry

up, there would be a lofty mountain rising from the plain of the ocean's

bed to a height of nearly eighteen thousand feet.

A great deal of work still required to be done off Macquarie Island,

but, as the uneven and rocky nature of the bottom prevented dredging, I

decided to sail on the 25th, continuing the voyage towards the Auckland

Islands.

Several people had expressed belief in a submarine ridge connecting

Macquarie Island with the Auckland group. Three soundings which we

obtained on this voyage did not support the suggestion, ranging as they

did from one thousand eight hundred and fifty-five to two thousand four

hundred and thirty fathoms, eighty-five miles south-west of the Auckland

group. We were the more glad to obtain these soundings, as, during the

winter cruise, in the same waters, the weather had forced us to abandon

the attempt.

On November 28 we took several soundings on the eastern side of

the Auckland Islands, but did not prolong our stay as we wished to

investigate the ridge south of Tasmania--the Mill Rise. The course was

therefore directed westward with a view to outlining the eastern edge of

this submarine elevation.

The first sounding to indicate that we were once more approaching the

Mill Rise was in one thousand and seventy-six fathoms. Continuing

west we secured the next record in one thousand three hundred fathoms,

limiting the southern extremity of the ridge which extends northward for

nearly one hundred miles. From this sounding the water shoaled quickly

as we steered north. Thus, on the same day, we were in eight hundred and

thirty-five fathoms at noon, in seven hundred and thirty-five fathoms

at 3.40 P.M. and in seven hundred and ten fathoms at 7.30 P.M. After the

last sounding we lowered the rock-gripper. On the first trial, however,

it failed to shut and, on the second, only a little fine sand was

recovered. As it was blowing hard most of the time, we were very

fortunate in being able to do this piece of work.

An inspection of the chart reveals the fact that the main direction of

the shallowest water is in a north-west and south-east direction, but

the number of soundings obtained was too small to give more than a

general outline. Later, we were able to add to these on the voyage

southward to relieve the Antarctic Bases.

The weather was so bad and the sea so heavy that we were unable to

obtain soundings on December 9, and, as dredging under such conditions

was out of the question, I decided to steer for the east coast of

Tasmania, where dredging might be possible under the lee of the land.

The constant gales were very disheartening, the last having continued

for four days with only short intervals of moderate weather.

On December 12 and 13, in calmer water, some thirty miles off the east

coast of Tasmania, trawlings were made successfully in one thousand

three hundred fathoms and seventy-five fathoms respectively. From the

deeper trawling were obtained a large octopus and several interesting

fish.

Just before noon on December 14 we arrived in Hobart and immediately

began preparations for the voyage to the Antarctic.

On December 24, 1912, preparations for sailing were complete. For ten

days every one connected with the 'Aurora' had been working at high

pressure, and Christmas Day, our last day ashore, was to be celebrated

as a well-earned holiday.

There was on board a good supply of coal, five hundred and twenty-one

tons, and a very heavy mail of letters and packages for the members

of the Expedition who had been isolated in the far South for more than

twelve months. We were to take thirty-five sheep on board as well as

twenty-one dogs, presented by Captain Amundsen upon his return from his

South Polar expedition. Captain James Davis, of Hobart, of long whaling

experience, was to accompany us to give an expert opinion upon such

whales as we might meet. Mr. Van Waterschoot van der Gracht, who had had

previous experience in the Antarctic, joined as marine artist, and Mr.

S. N. Jeffryes as wireless operator. With C. C. Eitel, Secretary of the

Expedition, the whole party on board numbered twenty-eight.

A very pleasant Christmas was spent ashore. The ship's company of

twenty-three men met for dinner, and we did not forget to wish a "Merry

Christmas" to our leader and his twenty-six comrades who were holding

their celebration amid the icy solitudes of Antarctica. I was glad, on

this festive occasion, to be able to congratulate officers and men on

their willing and loyal service during the previous twelve months; every

one had done his best to advance the objects of the Expedition.

The attractions of Hobart, at this season, are so numerous, and

Tasmanian hospitality so boundless, that it gives me great pleasure to

place on record that every man was at his post on the 'Aurora' at 10

A.M. on Boxing Day.

As we drew away from the wharf amid the cheers of those who had come to

wish us God-speed, the weather was perfect and the scene on the Derwent

bright and cheering. Captain James Davis acted as pilot.

At 11.30 A.M. we had embarked the twenty-one dogs, which were brought

off from the Quarantine Station, and were steaming down Storm Bay.

Outside there was a heavy swell, and the wind was freshening from the

west. The course was laid south 50 degrees west, true.

For the next two days there was a westerly gale with a very high sea,

and the dogs and sheep had a bad time, as a good deal of water came

aboard. Two of the sheep had to be killed. By the afternoon of the 29th

it had moderated, and a sounding was secured.

This storm was followed by another from the west-northwest. The 'Aurora'

weathered it splendidly, although one sea came over everything and

flooded the cabins, while part of the rail of the forecastle head was

carried away on the morning of the 31st. At this time we were in

the vicinity of the reputed position of the Royal Company Islands.

A sounding was taken with great difficulty, finding two thousand and

twenty fathoms and a mud bottom.

January 4, 1918, was a fine day, with a fresh westerly breeze and a

high sea. Occasionally there were snow squalls. At night the wireless

operator was able to hear H.M.S. 'Drake' at Hobart, and also the station

at Macquarie Island; the ship having been fitted to receive wireless

signals before sailing.

Next day the sun was bright and there was only a moderate westerly

swell. Large bunches of kelp were frequently seen drifting on the

surface. "Blue Billys"** flew in great numbers about the ship. Two

soundings were obtained in one thousand nine hundred fathoms.

** Prion Banksii.

On the 8th a heavy swell came from the south-east. During the morning a

sounding realized two thousand two hundred and seventy fathoms and the

sample of mud contained a small, black manganese nodule. At 8 P.M. a

floating cask was sighted and taken aboard after much difficulty. It

turned out to be a ship's oil cask, empty, giving no clue from whence it

came.

The first ice was observed about 6 P.M. on the 10th. The water was still

deep--more than two thousand fathoms.

By noon on January 11 loose pack came into view, with a strong blink of

heavier pack to the south. The course was changed to south-west. At 7

P.M. the ship was steaming west in clear water, a few bergs being in

sight and a marked ice-blink to the south. Several whales appeared which

Captain James Davis reported were "blue whales" (finners or rorquals).

After we had been steering westward until almost midnight, the course

was altered to south-west in the hope of encountering the shelf-ice

barrier (met in 1912) well to the east of the Main Base station. On

the 12th we sailed over the position of the ice-tongue in 1912 without

seeing a trace of it, coming up with heavy broken floe at 10 A.M.

For four hours the 'Aurora' pushed through massive floes and "bergy

bits," issuing into open water with the blink of ice-covered land to the

south. At nine o'clock Adelie Land was plainly visible, and a course

was set for the Main Base. In squally weather we reached the Mackellar

Islets at midnight, and by 2 A.M. on the 13th dropped anchor in

Commonwealth Bay under the ice-cliffs in twenty fathoms.

At 6 A.M. Fletcher, the chief officer, reported that a heavy gust of

wind had struck the ship and caused the chain to carry away the lashing

of the heavy relieving-tackle. The chain then ran over the windlass,

and, before anything could be done, the pointer to which the end of

the chain was attached had been torn from the bolts, and our best

ground-tackle was lost overboard. It was an exasperating accident.

At seven o'clock the port anchor was dropped in ten fathoms, about eight

hundred yards west of the first anchorage, with ninety fathoms of chain.

The wind shifted suddenly to the north, and the 'Aurora' swung inshore

until her stern was within one hundred yards of the cliffs; but the

depth at this distance proved to be seventeen fathoms. After a few

northerly puffs, the wind shifted to the south-east and then died away.

At 2.30 P.M. the launch was hoisted over and the mail was taken ashore,

with sundry specimens of Australian fruit as "refreshment" for the

shore-party. The boat harbour was reached before any one ashore had seen

the 'Aurora'. At the landing-place we were greeted most warmly by nine

wild-looking men; some with beards bleached by the weather. They all

looked healthy and in very fair condition, after the severe winter, as

they danced about in joyous excitement.

We learned that five sledging parties had left the Hut: Bage, Webb and

Hurley had returned from the south, Stillwell, Close and Laseron from

the east, and the others were still out. In Dr. Mawson's instructions,

all parties were to be back at the Hut by January 15, 1913.

The launch made some trips to and from the ship with specimens during

the afternoon. I returned on board and had a look at the cable. The

weather was fine, but changes were apt to occur without much warning.

At midnight it was blowing a gale from the south-east, and the chain was

holding well. The launch was hoisted up in the davits and communication

with the shore was suspended until 8 A.M. on January 15.

The lull was of two hours' duration, during which Murphy came aboard

and furnished me with some particulars about the sledging parties still

away.

Dr. Mawson, with Ninnis and Mertz, had gone to the south-east. They were

well provisioned and had taken eighteen dogs for transport purposes.

Bickerton, Hodgeman and Whetter had been out forty-three days to the

west and had food for forty days only. Madigan, McLean and Correll had

been away for seventy days in an easterly direction.

Dr. Mawson had left a letter for me with instructions to take charge if

he failed to return to time, that is not later than January 15, 1913.

On January 16 a party was observed from the ship coming in over the

slope. There was much speculation as to its personnel since, at a

distance, the three figures could not be recognized. The launch took us

ashore and we greeted Madigan, McLean and Correll who had returned from

a very successful expedition along the eastern coast over sea-ice.

Madigan and Bage came on board during the forenoon of the 17th and

we had a long consultation about the position of affairs owing to the

non-return of two parties. It was decided to re-erect the wireless mast

and stay it well while the ship was waiting, so that, in case of any

party being left at the Main Base, the wireless station would be in

working order.**

** It should be borne in mind that during the summer months (November,

December, January and part of February) wireless communication with the

outside world is impossible owing to continuous daylight reducing the

effective range. In summer the range was only a few hundred miles, and

the effective working distance for all times of the day probably not

above one hundred miles.

At one o'clock on the morning of January 18, de la Motte, the officer on

watch, reported that a party could be seen descending the glacier. This

proved to be Bickerton, Hodgeman and Whetter returning from their trip

along the west coast. Thus Dr. Mawson's party was the only one which had

not yet returned.

All day work on the wireless mast went along very satisfactorily, while

Captain James Davis and Chief Officer Fletcher spent their time in the

launch dragging for the cable lost on the morning of our arrival.

The launch returned at 10.30 P.M. and Captain Davis reported that the

grapnel had been buoyed until operations could be resumed.

On January 19 we tried to recover the chain, and to this end the

'Aurora' was taken over to the position where the grapnels had

been buoyed and was anchored. All efforts to secure the chain were

unsuccessful. At 7 P.M. we decided to return to our former position,

having a hard job to raise the anchor, which appeared to have dragged

under a big rock. Finally it broke away and came up in a mass of kelp,

and with the stock "adrift." The latter was secured and we steamed back,

"letting go" in eleven fathoms with ninety fathoms of chain.

When Dr. Mawson's party was a week overdue, I considered that the

time had arrived to issue a provisional notice to the members of the

Expedition at Commonwealth Bay concerning the establishment of a relief

party to operate from the Main Base.

A party of four left the Hut on the 20th, keeping a sharp look-out to

the south-east for any signs of the missing party. They travelled as

far as the air-tractor sledge which had been abandoned ten miles to the

south, bringing it back to the Hut.

I decided to remain at Commonwealth Bay until January 30. If the

leader's party had not returned by that day, a search party was to

proceed eastward while the 'Aurora' sailed for Wild's Base. From the

reports of the gales which prevailed during the month of March in 1912,

and considering the short daylight there was at that time, I felt that

it would be risking the lives of all on board to return to the Main Base

after relieving Wild's party. I resolved, therefore, to wait _as long as

possible_. As a result of a consultation with Madigan and Bage, I had a

provisional notice drafted, to be posted up in the Hut on January 22.

This notice was to the effect that the non-arrival of the leader's

party rendered it necessary to prepare for the establishment of a relief

expedition at Winter Quarters and appointed Bage, Bickerton, Hodgeman,

Jeffryes and McLean as members, under the command of Madigan; to remain

in Antarctica for another year if necessary.

On the same evening I went ashore to inspect the wireless mast, which

was practically complete. The work had been done thoroughly and,

provided the mast itself did not buckle, the stays were likely to

hold. Hannam, Bickerton and Jeffryes were busy placing the engine and

instruments in position.

I then went up the slope for about a mile. The Winter Quarters looked

like a heap of stones; boundless ice rose up to the southern skyline;

the dark water to the north was broken by an occasional berg or

the ice-covered islands. This wonderful region of ice and sea looks

beautiful on a fine day. But what a terrible, vast solitude, constantly

swept by icy winds and drift, stretches away to the south! A party will

go out to-morrow to visit the depot at the top of the slope. This is the

seventh day we have been waiting and hoping to welcome the absentees!

On the 23rd the breeze was very strong in the forenoon, but the wind

moderated about 4 P.M., when the launch was able to leave for the shore.

We could see a search party (Hodgeman, Stillwell, and Correll) marching

against a strong south-east wind on their way to examine the depot at

Aladdin's Cave and its vicinity.

Though there was a moderate south-easter blowing, communication with the

land went on during the day. I went ashore early, but the search party

did not return until noon. They had remained at Aladdin's Cave overnight

and marched farther south next morning, approaching a line of dense

drift, without seeing anything.

It was arranged that another party of three men should start next

morning (January 25) and, going in a southeasterly direction, make a

search for five days, laying a depot at their farthest point. Hodgeman,

Hurley and McLean made preparations to set out. I left instructions that

a flag should be flown on the wireless mast if Dr. Mawson returned.

I now went through the supplies of provisions and coal which were to

be landed for the use of the Relief Party. I intended to try and

have everything on shore by January 29, taking advantage of any short

interval of fair weather to send a boatload to the landing-place.

On the 25th there was a hard south-east gale blowing until the

afternoon, when it moderated sufficiently to send off the launch with

thirteen bags of coal, Gillies being in charge. The boat harbour was

reached in safety, the wind freshening to a gale before 6 P.M.

Terrific gusts followed in rapid succession and, without warning, the

cable parted sixty fathoms from the anchor at 9 P.M. Having cleared the

reefs to leeward, we managed to get in the rest of the chain and then

stood along the coast to the north-west. By keeping about three miles

from the shore, we seemed to be beyond the reach of the more violent

gusts, but a short sea holding the ship broadside to the wind during the

squalls, rendered it difficult to maintain a fixed course.

With reefs and bergs around, the increasing darkness about midnight

made our position unpleasant. The engines had to be stopped and the ship

allowed to drift with the wind, owing to a bearing becoming hot, but in

a quarter of an hour they were moving once more.

Early on January 26 the 'Aurora' was about half-way between Winter

Quarters and the western point of Commonwealth Bay, when the wind

suddenly ceased, and then came away light from the north-west. We could

see that a south-east gale was still raging close inshore. Over the sea,

towards the north, dark clouds were scudding with great rapidity along

the horizon: the scene of a violent disturbance.

We returned towards our late anchorage. On reaching it, the south-east

wind had moderated considerably, and we let go our spare anchor and what

had been saved of the chain.

To the north, violent gusts appeared to be travelling in various

directions, but, to our astonishment, these gusts, after approaching our

position at a great rate, appeared to curve upwards; the water close to

the ship was disturbed, and nothing else. This curious phenomenon

lasted for about an hour and then the wind came with a rush from the

south-east, testing the anchor-chain in the more furious squalls.

The gale was in its third day on the 27th, and there was a "hurricane

sky" during the morning. The wind would die away, only to blow more

fiercely than before. The suddenness with which the changes occurred may

be gathered from the following extracts from my journal:

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

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

"11 A.M. Last cargo of coal had just left ship when the wind freshened

from the south-east. The launch had just got inside the boat harbour

when a terrific gust struck the vessel and our chain parted. We

were blown out to sea while heaving in thirty fathoms of chain which

remained.

"4 P.M. We have been steaming backwards and forwards until the wind died

away. The launch has just come off and taken another load of stores to

the boat harbour.

"7 P.M. The weather is moderating with rising barometer. Nearly

everything required by the Relief Party is now ashore. Two or three

trips will take the remainder.

"We shall steam about for a few hours, and make the anchorage early

to-morrow morning."

Next morning a kedge-anchor (about five hundred-weights) was lowered

with the remainder of the chain. For a time this held the ship, but a

gust of wind from the southeast caused it to drag. It was, therefore,

hauled up and, on coming to the surface, was seen to have lost a fluke.

All equipment, coal and food were now on shore for the use of the

Relief Party. I had given them everything that could be spared from

the provisions set apart for the use of the ship's company. Next day

I purposed to cruise along the coast to the east, if the weather were

clear.

January 29 was fine, so we steamed off at 6.30 A.M. As no flag was seen

on the wireless mast, we knew that Dr. Mawson had not returned. A course

was kept two or three miles from the ice-cliffs beyond the fringe of

rocky islets.

At 4 A.M. on the 30th we were alongside the Mertz Glacier and reached

the head of the bay at the confluence of glacier with land-ice. Mount

Murchison was only dimly visible, but the weather was clear along the

glacier-tongue. Signals were fired and a big kite flown at a height

of about five hundred feet to attract attention on shore in case the

missing party were near.

"1.30 P.M. We are now about half a mile from the head of the inlet. From

the appearance of the country (heavily crevassed) approach to the sea by

a sledging-party would be extremely difficult. There is no floe-ice at

the foot of the cliff.

"10.30 P.M. We are approaching the end of the glacier-tongue around

which there is a collection of pack. There is some drift ahead and it

is difficult to see far. We have passed the eastern limit of coast to be

searched.

"10.35 P.M. The glacier-tongue is trending to the east and a line of

heavy pack extends to the north, with many large bergs. No sign of flag

or signal on the end of the barrier.

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

Winter Quarters.

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

slope.

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

Base.

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

"Dr. Mawson's party is now sixteen days overdue; there must be something

seriously amiss. But from our examination of the line of coast as far as

64 degrees 45' south, 146 degrees 19' east, there does not appear to be

any probability of finding traces along the shore line at the base of

vertical ice-cliffs."

No communication with the shore was possible until the wind, which

had again risen, had moderated. We could just stand off and on until a

favourable opportunity occurred. Once the returning ten members of the

Expedition were embarked it was imperative to hasten towards Wild's

Base.

A week's gale in Commonwealth Bay! The seven days which followed I

do not think any of us will forget. From February 1 to 7 it blew a

continuous heavy gale, interrupted only when the wind increased to a

full hurricane ** (eighty miles an hour).

** * The maximum wind-velocity recorded at this time by the anemometer

on shore was approximately eighty miles an hour.

We endeavoured to maintain a position under the cliffs where the sea had

not room to become heavy. This entailed a constant struggle, as, with a

full head of steam during the squalls, the vessel drove steadily seaward

to where the rising waves broke on board and rendered steering more

perplexing. Then, when it had moderated to a mere "howl," we would crawl

back, only to be driven out again by the next squall. The blinding spray

which was swept out in front of the squalls froze solidly on board and

lent additional difficulty to the operation of "wearing ship."

It was on this occasion that we realized what a fine old vessel the

'Aurora' was, and, as we slowly moved back to shelter, could appreciate

how efficiently our engine-room staff under Gillies were carrying out

their duties. The ordinary steaming speed was six knots, yet for the

whole of this week, without a hitch, the ship was being driven at

an equivalent of ten knots. The fact of having this reserve power

undoubtedly saved us from disaster.

A typical entry from my diary reads:

"February 6. Just as the sun was showing over the ice-slopes this

morning (4 A.M.) the wind became very violent with the most terrific

squalls I have ever experienced. Vessel absolutely unmanageable, driving

out to sea. I was expecting the masts to go overboard every minute.

This was the worst, I think, lasting about two hours. At 6 A.M., still

blowing very hard but squalls less violent, gradually made shelter

during the morning...."

On February 8 the weather improved after 1 A.M. The gusts were less

violent and the lulls were of longer duration. At 9 A.M. there was only

a gentle breeze. We steamed in towards the boat harbour and signalled

for the launch to come off with the ten members of the shore-party. The

latter had been instructed to remain at the Hut until the vessel was

ready to sail. Here, while the gale had been in full career, they had

helped to secure enough seal and penguin-meat to keep the Relief Party

and their dogs for another year.

The good-byes were brief while the launch discharged the men and their

belongings. Instructions were handed over to Madigan directing him to

follow the course believed to have been taken by Dr. Mawson and to

make an exhaustive search, commencing as soon as the 'Aurora' left

Commonwealth Bay. Madigan gave me a letter containing a report of the

work done by the party which had left on the 25th.

It appears that they had been confined in Aladdin's Cave for twenty-four

hours by dense drift and then, in moderate drift, made four miles to the

south-east. Here they camped and were not able to move for thirty-six

hours in a high wind with thick snow.

On the 28th the drift decreased in amount and, though it was only

possible to see a few hundred yards and crevasses were frequent, they

kept a course of east 30 degrees south for six miles. A snow-mound was

built and on top of it were placed provisions and a note giving the

bearing and distance from Aladdin's Cave.

In the afternoon the wind subsided and it became clear. Eight miles on

the same course brought them to their farthest camp, twenty-three miles

from the Hut. A mound of eleven feet was erected here, provisions and a

note being left and some black bunting wound among the snow-blocks. The

depot was on a ridge and, with glasses, several miles could be swept to

the south-east.

The party consisted of McLean, Hodgeman and Hurley.

De la Motte and Hannam took the Relief Party ashore in the launch and,

as soon as they had returned--at 11.30 A.M.--we steamed out of the bay.

The weather had calmed and there were light airs and a smooth sea.

The members of the Relief Party were as follows: C. T. Madigan (leader),

R. Bage, F. H. Bickerton, A. J. Hodgeman, Dr. A. L. McLean and S. N.

Jeffryes (wireless operator). The remaining ten members of the Main Base

Party returned to Australia: J. H. Close, P. E. Correll, W. H.

Hannam, J. G. Hunter, J. F. Hurley, C. F. Laseron, H. D. Murphy, F. L.

Stillwell, E. N. Webb and Dr. L. A. Whetter.

Throughout the afternoon we steered north-west and at 8.30 P.M. were

approaching heavy pack. Just then Hannam received a wireless message

from the Main Base informing us that Dr. Mawson had reached the Hut

alone, his two comrades having perished, and instructing me to return

at once and pick up all hands. We turned round and steered back

immediately.

At 8 A.M. on February 9 the ship entered Commonwealth Bay steaming

against a strong southerly breeze with some snow. We were right up near

the anchorage about noon and the Pilot Jack could be seen flying from

the wireless mast. Instructions were signalled for, but our efforts were

unobserved. We then steamed to and fro across the bay. At 6 P.M. it was

blowing a hard gale and showed signs of becoming worse.

At 6 P.M. the wind was growing in strength and the barometer was

falling. Not having received any reply to my signal for instructions, I

felt it was necessary to decide whether I was justified in remaining any

longer.

After considering the position in all its bearings I decided to sail

westward without further delay and for the following reasons:

1. Dr. Mawson and his companions were in safety, comfortably housed and

fully equipped for another winter.

2. Any further delay was seriously endangering our chance of being able

to relieve Wild's party that year. The navigation of the fifteen hundred

miles to the Shackleton Ice-Shelf was becoming, daily, more dangerous on

account of the shortness of daylight and the conditions of the ice.

3. The only vessel which had wintered in the vicinity of the Western

Base (the 'Gauss') had been frozen in as early in the season as February

22, spending more than twelve months in the ice. The 'Aurora' was not

provisioned for a winter in the ice.

4. It had been ascertained from the records at the Main Base that gales

were often protracted at the close of the short summer season. We had

just experienced one such gale, lasting seven days.

5. As a seaman, I had realized the difficulties encountered in

approaching and getting away from the Western Base in 1912. It was then

three weeks later in the year.

I felt convinced that in leaving the Main Base, without further delay,

I was acting as Dr. Mawson would have wished, if I had been able to

acquaint him with the position of the Western Party.

At 6.30 P.M. we steamed out of the bay, the wind moderating as the ship

got well out to sea. At midnight there was a moderate breeze from the

south, with some snow.

On February 10 heavy pack was met, about fifty miles north of

Commonwealth Bay. After coasting along its margin for a while, we pushed

among the floes and, after three hours, reached a patch of fairly open

water about 1 P.M.

One hour later a large ice-formation was sighted, which tallied with

that met on January 3 of the previous year (1912) and which, on this

occasion, was no longer in its original position. We came to the

conclusion that the whole must have drifted about fifty miles to the

north-west during the intervening year. The face of this huge berg,

along which the 'Aurora' coasted, was about forty miles in length.

Hannam heard fragments of a message from Dr. Mawson during the evening.

The words, "crevasse," "Ninnis," "Mertz," "broken" and "cable" were

picked up.

Good progress was made on the 11th against a high westerly sea. The sun

set in a clear sky and the barometer was slowly rising. Our position was

evidently north of the pack and, if unimpeded by ice, there was a chance

of the ship arriving at her destination in time.

Poor headway was made for nearly three days against an adverse wind and

sea. Then, late on the 14th, a breeze sprang up from the east-south-east

and, under all sail, the 'Aurora' made seven knots.

Next morning we were driving along before an easterly gale in thick

snow, and at noon the day's run was one hundred and eighty miles.

The journal describes the following week:

"February 16. The weather cleared up this morning and the sun came out,

enabling us to fix our position.

"We are doing about eight knots under topsails and foresail. The

sky looked threatening this evening but improved considerably before

midnight.

"February 17. There were frequent snow squalls today, making it

difficult to see. Only a few scattered pieces of ice were about.

"February 18. Bright, clear weather to-day enabled us to get good

observations. There are a great many 'blue whales' round the ship, and

the many bergs in sight are suggestive of heavy pack to the south. A

great many petrels and Cape pigeons have been seen.

"February 19. The ship was brought up this morning at 8.45 by a line

of heavy pack extending across the course. The weather was misty, but

cleared up before noon. We have been obliged to steer a northerly course

along the edge of the pack.

"The margin of this pack is some sixty miles farther north than that

which we followed in 1912.

"At midnight we were steering north-north-west; many bergs in sight and

a line of pack to port.

"February 20. At daylight we were able to steer southwest, being at noon

about twenty miles north of Termination Ice-Tongue. Pushing through

the looser edge of pack for a couple of hours we saw the loom of the

ice-tongue to the southward. The pack becoming closer, we turned back to

the north in order to try and push through farther west, where the sky

looked more promising.

"At dark we were in a patch of clear water, with ice all around. It

began to snow and, as the wind remained a light easterly, the ship was

allowed to drift until daylight.

"February 21. The morning was very foggy up till 11 A.M. We steered west

until noon and then entered the pack; there was a promising sky towards

the south. Fair progress was made through the ice, which became looser

as we advanced to the south. At 8 P.M. we passed through leads by

moonlight, having a favourable run throughout the night.

"February 22. At 4 A.M. the wind freshened from the south-east with some

snow; the floes were getting heavier and the advent of a blizzard was

not hailed with joy. About noon the ship approached open water and the

snow ceased.

"We were now on the confines of the sea of bergs where navigation had

proved so dangerous in 1912.

"At 8 P.M. the driving snow and growing darkness made it impossible to

see any distance ahead. The next seven hours were the most anxious I

have ever spent at sea. Although the wind blew hard from the south-east,

we passed through the sea of bergs without mishap, guided and protected

by a Higher Power.

"February 23. At 4 A.M. the loom of an ice-tongue was sighted and

we were soon standing in to follow this feature until we reached the

Shackleton Shelf.

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

"At 11 A.M. we sighted a depot-flag on the slope. Soon after the ship

was up to the fast floe at the head of the bay, the ice being nearly

a mile farther north than on the previous year. In fact, the

ice-conditions as a whole had changed considerably.

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

Wild and his comrades were as glad to see the 'Aurora' as we were to

see them. They had commenced to lay in a stock of seal-meat fearing that

they might have to pass another winter on the glacier.

All the afternoon every one was busy getting baggage on board and

watering ship. The weather was good and I had intended to sail on the

same evening by moonlight, following the glacier-tongue northward in

clear water for sixty miles.

As we turned northward, "all well" on board, I felt truly thankful that

Wild's party had been relieved and anxiety on their account was now at

an end. The party included F. Wild (leader), G. Dovers, C. T. Harrisson,

C. A. Hoadley, Dr. S. E. Jones, A. L. Kennedy, M. H. Moyes and A. D.

Watson.

Early on the 24th there was a fresh easterly breeze, while the ship

steamed among fields of bergs, for the most part of glacier-ice. It is

marvellous how a vessel can pass through such an accumulation in the

dark and come off with only a few bumps!

Pack consisting of heavy broken floe-ice was entered at four o'clock on

the same day, and at 8 A.M. on the 25th we were clear of it, steering

once more among bergs, many of which were earth-stained. The day was

remarkably fine with light winds and a smooth sea.

After we had passed through three hundred miles of berg-strewn ocean,

large masses of ice, water-worn in most instances, were still numerous,

and on February 27, though our position was north of the 80th parallel,

they were just beginning to diminish in numbers. At noon on that day a

sounding was made in two thousand two hundred and thirty fathoms.

Any hope we may have had of steaming to the east with the object of

attempting to relieve the seven men at Adelie Land had to be definitely

abandoned on account of the small supply of coal which remained.

There was now a clear run of two thousand miles through the zone of

westerly gales and high seas, and on March 14 we reached Port Esperance.

Mr. Eitel, Secretary of the Expedition, landed here and caught the

steamer Dover to Hobart. We heard of the disaster to Captain Scott and

it was learned that wireless messages had been received from Dr. Mawson,

which had been forwarded on to Australia through the Macquarie Island

party.

CHAPTER XIX THE WESTERN BASE--ESTABLISHMENT AND EARLY ADVENTURES

by F. Wild

At 7 A.M. on February 21, 1912, the 'Aurora' steamed away to the north

leaving us on the Shackleton Ice-Shelf, while cheers and hearty good

wishes were exchanged with the ship's company. On the sea-ice, that day,

there stood with me my comrades--the Western Party; G. Dovers, C. T.

Harrisson, C. A. Hoadley, S. E. Jones, A. L. Kennedy, M. H. Moyes and A.

D. Watson.

We proceeded to the top of the cliff, where the remainder of the

stores and gear were hauled up. Tents were then erected and the work of

hut-building at once commenced. The site selected for our home was

six hundred and forty yards inland from the spot where the stores were

landed, and, as the edge of the glacier was very badly broken, I was

anxious to get a supply of food, clothing and fuel moved back from the

edge to safety as soon as possible.

Of the twenty-eight Greenland dogs that had reached Antarctica in the

'Aurora', nineteen were landed in Adelie Land and nine with us. So far,

none of these had been broken in for sledging, and all were in poor

condition. Their quarters on the ship had been very cramped, and many

times they had been thoroughly soaked in salt water, besides enduring

several blizzards in Antarctic waters.

Harrisson, Hoadley, Kennedy and Jones "turned the first sod" in the

foundations of the hut, while Dovers, Moyes, Watson and I sledged along

supplies of timber and stores. Inward from the brink of the precipice,

which was one hundred feet in height, the surface was fairly good for

sledges, but, owing to crevasses and pressure-ridges, the course was

devious and mostly uphill.

Until the building was completed, the day's work commenced at 6 A.M.,

and, with only half an hour for a midday meal, continued until 7 P.M.

Fortunately, the weather was propitious during the seven days when the

carpenters and joiners ruled the situation; the temperature ranging from

-12 degrees F. to 25 degrees F., while a moderate blizzard interrupted

one day. The chief trouble was that the blizzard deposited six feet of

snow around the stack of stores and coal at the landing-place, thereby

adding considerably to our labour. As evidence of the force of the wind,

the floe was broken and driven out past the foot of the "flying-fox,"

tearing away the lower anchor and breaking the sheer-legs on the

glacier.

An average day's work on the stores consisted in bringing thirteen loads

over a total distance of nine and a half miles. First of all, the cases

had to be dug out of the snow-drifts, and loading and unloading the

sledges was scarcely less arduous.

On February 27, while working on the roof, Harrisson made an addition

to our geographical knowledge. Well to the north of the mainland, and

bearing a little north of east, he could trace the outline of land.

Subsequently this was proved to be an island, thirty-two miles distant,

and seventeen miles north of the mainland. It was twenty miles long and

fifteen miles wide, being entirely ice-covered. Later on, it was charted

as Masson Island.

On the 28th, the hut was fit for habitation, the stove was installed,

and meals were cooked and eaten in moderate comfort. The interior of

the house was twenty feet square, but its area was reduced by a lobby

entrance, three feet by five feet, a dark-room three feet by six feet

situated on one side, and my cabin six feet six inches square in one

corner. The others slept in seven bunks which were ranged at

intervals round the walls. Of the remaining space, a large portion was

commodiously occupied by the stove and table.

On three sides, the roof projected five feet beyond the walls and formed

a veranda which was boarded up, making an excellent store-room and

work-room. This was a splendid idea of Dr. Mawson's, enabling us to

work during the severest storms when there was no room in the hut, and

incidentally supplying extra insulation and rendering the inside

much warmer. The main walls and roof were double and covered with

weather-proof felt. Daylight was admitted through four plate-glass

skylights in the roof.

A blizzard effectually prevented outdoor work on February 29, and all

hands were employed in the hut, lining the roof and walls and fixing

shelves for cooking and other utensils.

An attack was made on the transport of stores next day. As a result of

twelve hours' work, five and a half tons of coal were dragged up and

stowed under the veranda. It was Hoadley's birthday, and the cook made a

special feature of the dinner. With extra dainties like figs, cake and a

bottle of wine, we felt that the occasion was fitly celebrated. On March

2, more stores were amassed round the house; Hoadley, Harrisson and I

doing odd jobs inside, opening cans, sorting out stores, fitting bunks,

shelves and the acetylene gas plant.

While undoing some packages of small boards, Hoadley found that a space

had been arranged in the centre of one of the bundles, and a box

of cigars inserted by some of the men originally employed upon the

construction of the hut in Melbourne. Enclosed was a letter of hearty

good wishes.

During the afternoon, Dovers and Kennedy lowered a small sledge down to

the floe and brought up a seal and three Adelie penguins. These served

for a while as fresh food for ourselves and the dogs.

Sunday March 3 was the finest day we had up till then experienced, and,

since the work was now sufficiently advanced to make us comparatively

comfortable and safe, I determined to make a proper Sunday of it. All

hands were called at 8.30 A.M. instead of 6 A.M. After breakfast a few

necessary jobs were done and at noon a short service was held. When

lunch was over, the skis were unpacked, and all went for a run to the

east in the direction of Masson Island.

The glacier's surface was excellent for travelling, but I soon found

that it would be dangerous to walk about alone without skis, as there

were a number of crevasses near the hut, some of considerable size; I

opened one twenty-five feet wide. They were all well bridged and would

support a man on skis quite easily.

A heavy gale, with falling snow and blinding drift, came on early the

next day and continued for forty-eight hours; our worst blizzard up to

that time. The temperature, below zero before the storm, rose with the

wind to 30 degrees F. Inside, all were employed preparing for a sledging

trip I intended to make to the mainland before the winter set in.

We were greatly handicapped by the want of a sewing machine.** When

unpacked, the one which had been brought was found to be without

shuttles, spools and needles. Large canvas bags, made to contain

two weeks' provisions for a sledging unit of three men, were in the

equipment, but the smaller bags of calico for the different articles of

food had to be sewn by hand. Several hundred of these were required, and

altogether the time consumed in making them was considerable.

** By accident the small sewing machine belonging to Wild's party

was landed at the Main Base--ED.

Emerging on the morning of the 6th. after the blizzard had blown itself

out, we found that snow-drifts to a depth of twelve feet had collected

around the hut. For entrance and exit, a shaft had to be dug and a

ladder made. The stores, stacked in heaps close by, were completely

covered, and another blizzard swooping down on the 7th made things still

worse. This "blow," persisting till the morning of the 9th, was very

heavy, the wind frequently attaining velocities judged to reach ninety

miles per hour, accompanied by drift so thick that it was impossible to

go outside for anything.

Beyond the erection of the wireless masts, everything was now ready for

the sledging journey. On the day when the wind abated, a party set to

work digging holes for the masts and stay-posts. The former were to

be fifty-two feet high, four and a half feet being buried in the ice.

Unfortunately, a strong breeze with thick drift sprang up just as

hoisting operations had started, and in a few minutes the holes were

filled up and the workers had to run for shelter. Meanwhile, four men

had succeeded in rescuing all the buried stores, some being stowed

alongside the hut, and the remainder stacked up again on a new level.

On came another severe blizzard, which continued with only a few

minutes' interval until the evening of the 12th. During the short

lull, Jones, Dovers and Hoadley took a sledge for a load of ice from a

pressure-ridge rather less than two hundred yards from the hut.

While they were absent, the wind freshened again, and they had great

difficulty in finding a way to the entrance.

It was very disappointing to be delayed in this manner, but there was

consolation in the fact that we were better off in the hut than on the

glacier, and that there was plenty of work inside. The interior was thus

put in order much earlier than it would otherwise have been.

In erecting the hut, it was found that a case of nuts and bolts was

missing, and many places in the frame had in consequence to be secured

with nails. For a while I was rather doubtful how the building would

stand a really heavy blow. There was, however, no need for uneasiness,

as the first two blizzards drifted snow to such a depth in our immediate

vicinity that, even with the wind at hurricane force, there was scarcely

a tremor in the building.

The morning of Wednesday March 13 was calm and overcast. Breakfast was

served at six o'clock. We then set to work and cleared away the snow

from the masts and stay-posts, so that by 8.30 A.M. both masts were in

position. Before the job was over, a singular sight was witnessed. A

large section of the glacier--many thousands of tons--calved off into

the sea. The tremendous waves raised by the fall of this mass smashed

into fragments all the floe left in the bay. With the sea-ice went the

snow-slopes which were the natural roadway down. A perpendicular cliff,

sixty to one hundred feet above the water, was all that remained, and

our opportunities of obtaining seals and penguins in the future were cut

off. Of course, too, the old landing-place no longer existed.

The whole of the sledging provisions and gear were brought out, weighed

and packed on the sledges; the total weight being one thousand two

hundred and thirty-three pounds. Dovers, Harrisson, Hoadley, Jones,

Moyes and myself were to constitute the party.

It was necessary for two men to remain behind at the base to keep the

meteorological records, to wind chronometers, to feed the dogs and to

bring up the remainder of the stores from the edge of the ice-cliff.

Kennedy, the magnetician, had to stay, as two term days** were due in

the next month. It was essential that we should have a medical man with

us, so Jones was included in the sledging party; the others drawing lots

to decide who should remain with Kennedy. The unlucky one was Watson.

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

To the south of the Base, seventeen miles distant at the nearest point,

the mainland was visible, entirely ice-clad, running almost due east and

west. It appeared to rise rapidly to about three thousand feet, and

then to ascend more gradually as the great plateau of the Antarctic

continent. It was my intention to travel inland beyond the lower

ice-falls, which extended in an irregular line of riven bluffs all along

the coast, and then to lay a depot or depots which might be useful on

the next season's journeys. Another reason for making the journey was to

give the party some experience in sledging work. The combined weight of

both sledges and effects was one thousand two hundred and thirty-three

pounds, and the total amount of food carried was four hundred and sixty

pounds.

While the sledges were being loaded, ten skua gulls paid us a visit,

and, as roast skua is a very pleasant change of food, Jones shot six of

them.

At 1 P.M. we left the hut, making an east-south-east course to clear a

pressure-ridge; altering the course once more to south-east. The coast

in this direction looked accessible, whereas a line running due south

would have brought us to some unpromising ice-falls by a shorter route.

The surface was very good and almost free from crevasses; only one, into

which Jones fell to his middle, being seen during the afternoon's march.

Not wishing to do too much the first day, especially after the "soft"

days we had been forced to spend in the hut during the spell of bad

weather, I made two short halts in the afternoon and camped at 5 P.M.,

having done seven and half miles.

On the 11th we rose at 5 A.M., and at 7 A.M. we were on the march. For

the two hours after starting, the surface was tolerable and then changed

for the worse; the remainder of the day's work being principally over

a hard crust, which was just too brittle to bear the weight of a man,

letting him through to a soft substratum, six or eight inches deep

in the snow. Only those who have travelled in country like this can

properly realize how wearisome it is.

At 9 A.M. the course was altered to south, as there appeared to be a

fairly good track up the hills. The surface of the glacier rose and

fell in long undulations which became wider and more marked as the land

approached. By the time we camped, they were three-quarters of a mile

from crest to crest, with a drop of thirty feet from crest to trough.

Despite the heavy trudging we covered more than thirteen miles.

I made the marching hours 7 A.M. to 5 P.M., so that there was time to

get the evening meal before darkness set in; soon after 6 P.M.

The march commenced about seven o'clock on March 15, the thermometer

registering -8 degrees F., while a light southerly breeze made it feel

much colder. The exercise soon warmed us up and, when the breeze died

away, the remainder of the day was perfectly calm.

A surface of "pie-crust" cut down the mileage in the forenoon. At 11

A.M. we encountered many crevasses, from two to five feet wide, with

clean-cut sides and shaky bridges. Hoadley went down to his head in one,

and we all got our legs in others.

It became evident after lunch that the land was nearing rapidly, its

lower slopes obscuring the higher land behind. The crevasses also became

wider, so I lengthened the harness with an alpine rope to allow more

room and to prevent more than two men from being over a chasm at the

same time. At 4 P.M. we were confronted with one sixty feet wide.

Crevasses over thirty feet in width usually have very solid bridges

and may be considered safe, but this one had badly broken edges and one

hundred yards on the right the lid had collapsed. So instead of marching

steadily across, we went over singly on the alpine rope and hauled the

sledges along in their turn, when all had crossed in safety. Immediately

after passing this obstacle the grade became steeper, and, between three

and five o'clock, we rose two hundred feet, traversing several large

patches of neve.

That night the tent stood on a field of snow covering the lower slopes

of the hills. On either hand were magnificent examples of ice-falls, but

ahead the way seemed open.

With the exception of a preliminary stiffness, every one felt well after

the toil of the first few days.

In bright sunlight next morning all went to examine the ice-falls to the

east, which were two miles away. Roping up, we made an ascent half-way

to the top which rose five hundred feet and commanded a grand panorama

of glacier and coast. Soon the wind freshened and drift began to fly.

When we regained the tents a gale was blowing, with heavy drift, so

there was nothing to do but make ourselves as comfortable as possible

inside.

All through Saturday night the gale raged and up till 11.30 A.M. on

Sunday March 16. On turning out, we found that the tents and sledges

were covered deeply in snow, and we dug continuously for more than two

hours before we were able to pack up and get away. Both sledges ran

easily for nearly a mile over neve, when the gradient increased to

one in ten, forcing us to relay. It was found necessary to change our

finnesko for spiked boots. Relaying regularly, we gradually mounted

six hundred feet over neve and massive sastrugi. With a steep slope

in front, a halt was made for the night. The sunset was a picture

of prismatic colours reflected over the undulating ice-sheet and the

tumbling cascades of the glacier.

On the evening of March 18 the altitude of our camp was one thousand

four hundred and ten feet, and the slope was covered with sastrugi

ridges, three to four feet in height. Travelling over these on the

following day we had frequent capsizes.

The outlook to the south was a series of irregular terraces, varying

from half a mile to two miles in breadth and twenty to two hundred feet

in height. These were furrowed by small valleys and traversed by ridges,

but there was not a sign of rock anywhere.

The temperature varied from 4 degrees to 14 degrees F. during the day,

and the minimum recorded at night was -11 degrees F.

Another nine miles of slow ascent brought us to two thousand feet,

followed by a rise of two hundred and twenty feet in seven and

three-quarter miles on March 21. Hauling over high broken sastrugi

was laborious enough to make every one glad when the day was over. The

rations were found sufficient, but the plasmon biscuits were so hard

that they had to be broken with a geological hammer.

There now swept down on us a blizzard** which lasted for a whole week,

on the evening of March 21. According to my diary, the record is as

follows:

"Friday, March 22. Snowing heavily all day, easterly wind: impossible

to travel as nothing can be seen more than ten to twelve yards away.

Temperature high, 7 degrees to 18 degrees F.

** It is a singular fact that this blizzard occurred on the same date

as that during which Captain Scott and his party lost their lives.

"Saturday, March 23. Blowing hard at turn-out time, so did not breakfast

until 8.30. Dovers is cook in my tent this week. He got his clothes

filled up with snow while bringing in the cooker, food-bag, etc. The

wind increased to a fierce gale during the day, and all the loose snow

which fell yesterday was shifted.

"About 5 P.M. the snow was partially blown away from the skirt or ground

cloth, and the tent bulged in a good deal. I got into burberries and

went out to secure it; it was useless to shovel on snow as it was blown

off immediately. I therefore dragged the food-bags off the sledge and

dumped them on. The wind and drift were so strong that I had several

times to get in the lee of the tent to recover my breath and to clear

the mask of snow from my face.

"We are now rather crowded through the tent bulging in so much, and

having cooker and food-bag inside.

"Sunday, March 24. Had a very bad night. The wind was chopping about

from south-east to north and blowing a hurricane. One side of the tent

was pressed in past the centre, and I had to turn out and support it

with bag lashings. Then the ventilator was blown in and we had a pile of

snow two feet high over the sleeping-bags; this kept us warm, but it was

impossible to prevent some of it getting into the bags, and now we are

very wet and the bags like sponges. There were quite two hundredweights

of snow on us; all of which came through a hole three inches wide.

"According to report from the other tent they are worse off than we are;

they say they have four feet of snow in the tent. All this is due to the

change of wind, making the ventilator to windward instead of leeward.

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

snowfall.

"Thursday, March 28. Heavy falling snow and drift, south-east wind. At

noon, the wind eased down and snow ceased falling, so we slipped into

our burberry over-suits and climbed out to dig for the sledges.

"Nothing could be seen except about two feet of the tops of the tents,

which meant that there was a deposit of five feet of freshly fallen

snow. The upper two feet was soft and powdery, offering no resistance;

under that it was still soft, so that we sank to our thighs every step

and frequently to the waist. By 4.30 P.M. both sledges were rescued,

and it was ascertained that no gear had been lost. We all found that the

week of idleness and confinement had weakened us, and at first were only

able to take short spells at the digging. The sky and barometer promise

fine weather to-morrow, but what awful work it will be pulling!"

At 5.30 A.M. on March 29 the weather was bright and calm. As a strong

wind had blown throughout the night, a harder surface was expected.

Outside, we were surprised to find a fresh wind and thick, low drift;

owing to the tents being snowed up so high, the threshing of the drift

was not audible. To my disgust the surface was as soft as ever. It

appeared that the only resort was to leave the provisions for the depot

on the nearest ridge and return to the Base. The temperature was -20

degrees F., and, while digging out the tents, Dovers had his nose

frost-bitten.

It took six of us well over an hour to drag the necessary food half a

mile up a rise of less than one hundred feet; the load, sledge included,

not being five hundred pounds. Nearly all the time we were sinking

thigh-deep, and the sledge itself was going down so far that the

instrument-box was pushing a mass of snow in front of it. Arriving on

the ridge, Moyes found that his foot was frozen and he had to go back to

camp, as there was too much wind to bring it round in the open.

Sufficient food and oil were left at this depot for three men for six

weeks; also a minimum thermometer.

In a fresh breeze and flying drift we were off at 10 A.M. next day. At

first we were ambitious and moved away with two sledges, sinking from

two to three feet all the time. Forty yards was as much as we could do

without a rest, and by lunch time nine hundred yards was the total.

Now the course was downhill, and the two sledges were pulled together,

creeping along with painful slowness, as walking was the hardest

work imaginable. After one of the most strenuous days I have ever

experienced, we camped; the sledge-meter recorded one mile four hundred

and fifty yards.

A spell of two days' blizzard cooped us up once more, but improved

the surface slightly. Still, it was dreadfully soft, and, but for the

falling gradient, we would not have made what we did; five miles six

hundred and ten yards, on April 2. On that and the following day it was

fortunate that the road chosen was free of crevasses.

At the foot of the hills I had decided to reduce the rations but, as the

track had grown firm once more, and we were only twenty-five miles from

the hut, with a week's food, I thought it would be safe to use the full

allowance.

Soon after leaving the hills (April 4), a direct course to the hut was

made. There was no mark by which to steer, except a "water-sky" to the

north, the hinterland being clouded over. During the afternoon, the sun

occasionally gleamed through a tract of cirro-stratus cloud and there

was a very fine parhelion: signs of an approaching blizzard. At 4.30

P.M. we had done seventeen and a half miles, and, as all hands were

fresh and willing, I decided to have a meal and go on again, considering

that the moon was full and there were only six miles to be done.

After supper the march was continued till 8.30 P.M., by which time we

were due for a rest. I had begun to think that we had passed the hut.

April 5 was far from being a Good Friday for us. At 2 A.M. a fresh

breeze rose and rapidly increased to a heavy gale. At 10 A.M. Hoadley

and I had to go out to secure the tent; the weather-side bulged in more

than half the width of the tent and was held by a solid load of drift,

but the other sides were flapping so much that almost all the snow had

been shaken off the skirt. Though only five yards away from it we could

not see the other tent. At noon Hoadley again went out to attend to the

tent and entirely lost himself within six feet of it. He immediately

started to yell and I guessed what was the matter at once. Dovers and I

shouted our best, and Hoadley groped his way in with a mask of snow over

his face. He told us that the wind which was then blowing a good eighty

miles an hour, knocked him down immediately he was outside, and, when

he struggled to his feet again, he could see nothing and had no idea in

what direction lay the tent.

The space inside was now so limited by the combined pressure of wind and

snow that we did not light the primus, eating lumps of frozen pemmican

for the evening meal.

The blizzard continued with unabated violence until eleven o'clock next

morning, when it moderated within an hour to half a gale. We turned out

and had a good hot meal. Then we looked to see how the others had fared

and found that their tent had collapsed. Getting at once into wind-proof

clothing, we rushed out and were horrified to see Harrisson in his bag

on the snow. He quickly assured us that he was all right. After carrying

him, bag and all, into our tent, he emerged quite undamaged, but very

hungry.

Jones and Moyes now had to be rescued; they were in a most uncomfortable

position under the fallen tent. It appears that the tent had blown down

on the previous morning at ten o'clock, and for thirty-six hours they

had had nothing to eat. We did not take long to dig them out.

The wind dropped to a moderate breeze, and, through the falling snow,

I could make out a "water-sky" to the west. The three unfortunates said

that they felt fit to travel, so we got under way. The surface was soft

and the pulling very heavy, and I soon saw that the strain was largely

due to the weakness of the three who had been without food. Calling a

halt, I asked Jones if it would do to go on; he assured me that they

could manage to go on with an effort, and the march was resumed.

Not long after, Dovers sighted the wireless mast, and a quarter of an

hour later we were safely in the hut, much to the surprise of Kennedy

and Watson, who did not expect us to be travelling in such weather, and

greatly to our own relief. According to the sledge-meter, the last camp

had only been two miles one hundred yards from home, and if anything had

been visible on the night of April 4, we could have got in easily.

I was very pleased with the way all the party had shaped. They had

worked splendidly and were always cheerful, although conditions had been

exceptionally trying during this journey. No one was any the worse for

the hardships, except for a few blistered fingers from frost-bites. The

party lost weight at the average of two and a half pounds; Harrisson

was the greatest loser, being reduced six pounds. Out of the twenty-five

days we were away, it was only possible to sledge on twelve days. The

total distance covered, including relay work, was nearly one hundred

and twenty-two miles, and the greatest elevation reached on the southern

mainland was two thousand six hundred feet above sea-level.

Kennedy and Watson had been very busy during our absence. In a few days

they had trained five of the dogs to pull in harness, and transported

the remainder of the stores from the landing-place, arranging them in

piles round the hut. The weather at the Base had been quite as bad as

that experienced by us on the land slopes.

In the first blizzard both wireless masts were broken down. Watson and

Kennedy managed to repair and re-erect one of the masts, but it was only

thirty-seven feet in height. Any final hopes of hearing wireless signals

were dispelled by the discovery that the case containing the detector

and several other parts necessary for a receiving-station were missing.

Watson had fitted up a splendid dark-room, as well as plenty of shelves

and racks for cooking utensils.

Kennedy was able to secure a series of observations on one of his term

days, but, before the next one, the tent he was using was blown to

ribbons.

CHAPTER XX THE WESTERN BASE--WINTER AND SPRING

On Easter Sunday, April 7, 1912, a furious blizzard kept us close

prisoners. To meet the occasion, Dovers prepared a special dinner, the

principal item being roast mutton, from one of the six carcases landed

with the stores. Divine service was held in the forenoon.

The blizzard raged with such force all Sunday and Monday that I dared

not let any one go out to feed the dogs, although we found, later, that

a fast of three days did not hurt them at all.

I now thought it time to establish a winter routine. Each member had his

particular duties to perform, in addition to general work, in which

all hands were engaged. Harrisson took charge of the lamps and checked

consumption of oil. Hoadley had the care of the provisions, making out

lists showing the amount the cook might use of each article of food,

besides opening cases and stowing a good assortment on convenient

shelves in the veranda. Jones and Kennedy worked the acetylene plant. In

connexion with this, I should mention that several parts were missing,

including T-pieces for joints and connexions for burners. However

Jones, in addition to his ability as a surgeon, showed himself to be an

excellent plumber, brazier and tinsmith, and the Hut was well lighted

all the time we occupied it. Moyes's duties as meteorologist took him

out at all hours. Watson looked after the dogs, while Dovers relieved

other members when they were cooks. The duty of cook was taken for a

week at a time by every one except myself. A night watch was kept

by each in turn. The watchman went on duty at 9 P.M., usually taking

advantage of this night to have a bath and wash his clothes. He prepared

breakfast, calling all hands at 8.30 A.M. for this meal at nine o'clock.

The cook for the week was exempt from all other work. In the case of

Kennedy, whose magnetic work was done principally at night, arrangements

were made to assist him with the cooking.

Work commenced during the winter months at ten o'clock and, unless

anything special had to be done, finished at 1 P.M., when lunch was

served. The afternoon was usually devoted to sport and recreation.

The frequent blizzards and heavy snowfall had by this time buried the

Hut so deeply that only the top of the pointed roof was visible and all

the outside stores were covered.

My diary for April 9 says:

"The blizzard" (which had commenced on the evening of the 6th) "played

itself out during the night and we got to work immediately after

breakfast. There was still a fresh breeze and low drift, but this

gradually died away.

"We were an hour digging an exit from the Hut. The day has been occupied

in cutting a tunnel entrance, forty feet long, through the drift, so

that driving snow cannot penetrate, and we shall be able to get out with

less trouble.

"As we get time I intend to excavate caverns in the huge drifts packed

round the house and stow all our stores inside; also a good supply of

ice for use during blizzards.

"I had intended to make a trip to Masson Island before the winter

properly set in, but with the weather behaving as it does, I don't think

it would be wise."

The 10th, 11th and 12th being fine, good progress was made in digging

out store-rooms on either side of the tunnel, but a blizzard on the 13th

and 14th stopped us again.

On going to feed the dogs during the afternoon of the 14th, Watson found

that Nansen was dead; this left us with seven, as Crippen had already

died. Of the remainder, only four were of any value; Sweep and the two

bitches, Tiger and Tich, refusing to do anything in harness, and, as

there was less than sufficient food for them, the two latter had to be

shot. Sweep would have shared the same fate but he disappeared, probably

falling down a crevasse or over the edge of the glacier.

Until the end of April almost all our time was spent in making

store-rooms and in searching for buried stores; sometimes a shaft would

have to be sunk eight to twelve feet. Bamboo poles stuck in the snow

marked the positions of the different stacks. The one marking the

carbide was blown away, and it was two days before Dovers finally

unearthed it. By the 30th, caves roomy enough to contain everything

were completed, all being connected by the tunnel. We were now

self-contained, and everything was accessible and immune from the

periodic blizzards.

The entrance, by the way, was a trap-door built over the tunnel and

raised well above the outside surface to prevent it being drifted over.

From below it was approached by a ladder, but the end of the tunnel was

left open, so that in fine weather we could run sledges in and out with

loads of ice. With each blizzard the entrance was completely choked, and

it gave two men a day's work to clear it out once more.

On April 16 Kennedy had a term day. A fresh breeze was blowing and the

temperature was -20 degrees F. Some of his observations had to be taken

in the open and the remainder in a tent. The series took three hours to

complete and by that time he was thoroughly chilled through, his feet

and fingers were frost-bitten and his language had grown more incisive

than usual.

Between the 10th and the 19th we made a search for penguins and

seals. Hoadley and Moyes staying behind, the rest of us with tents and

equipment journeyed along the edge of the glacier to the south, without

seeing the smallest sign of life. The edge of the shelf-ice was very

much fissured, many of the breaches giving no sign of their presence, in

consequence of which several falls were sustained. It should be remarked

that the Shackleton Shelf-Ice runs mainly in a southerly direction from

the Winter Quarters, joining the mainland at a point, afterwards named

Junction Corner. The map of Queen Mary Land illustrates this at a

glance.

From the 25th to the 29th, Kennedy, Harrisson and Jones were employed

building an igloo to be used as a magnetic observatory. On the afternoon

of the 30th, the magnetician invited every one to a tea-party in the

igloo to celebrate the opening. He had the place very nicely decorated

with flags, and after the reception and the formal inspection of

the instruments, we were served with quite a good tea. The outside

temperature was -33 degrees F. and it was not much higher inside the

igloo. As a result, no one extended his visit beyond the bounds of

politeness.

On May 1, Harrisson, Hoadley and Watson went away south towards the

land at the head of the bay, which curved round to Junction Corner, to

examine icebergs, take photographs and to search for seals. They took

the four dogs with them and, as the load was a light one--three hundred

and forty-two pounds--the dogs pulled it easily.

I went with the others to the north, hoping that we might find a portion

of the glacier low enough to give access to the sea-ice. There were

several spots where the ice-cliffs were not more than forty to fifty

feet high, but no convenient ramps led down from the cliffs. In any case

neither penguins nor seals were to be had in the vicinity. A great, flat

sheet of frozen sea stretched away to the north for quite thirty miles.

May 2 was fine, but the 3rd and 4th were windy once more and we had to

remain indoors. Saturday, the 4th, was clean-up day, when the verandas,

tunnel and cave were swept and tidied, the stove cleaned, the hut and

darkroom scrubbed and the windows cleared. The last was a job which was

generally detested. During the week, the windows in the roof collected

a coat of ice, from an inch to three inches thick, by condensation of

moisture. Chipping this off was a most tedious piece of work, while in

the process one's clothes became filled with ice.

One Sunday, Harrisson, Hoadley and Watson returned from their short

trip; they had missed the strong winds which had been blowing at the

Base, although less than twenty miles away. Some very fine old icebergs

were discovered which were of interest to the two geologists and made

good subjects for Harrisson's sketches. Watson had had a nasty fall

while crossing a patch of rough ice, his nose being rather badly cut in

the accident.

On May 7 another blizzard stopped all outside work. Moyes ventured as

far as the meteorological screen at noon and got lost, but luckily only

for a short time. The barometer behaved very strangely during the blow,

rising abruptly during a little more than an hour, and then slowly

falling once more. For a few hours on the 8th there was a lull and the

store of ice was replenished, but the 9th and 10th were again spent

indoors, repairing and refitting tents, poles and other sledging gear

during the working hours, and reading or playing chess and bridge in

the leisure time. Harrisson carved an excellent set of chessmen,

distinguishing the "black" ones by a stain of permanganate of potash.

Bridge was the favourite game all through the winter, and a continuous

record of the scores was kept. Two medals were struck: a neat little

thing for the highest scorer and a huge affair as large as a plate,

slung on a piece of three-and-a-half-inch rope, with "Jonah" inscribed

on it, to be worn by the player at the foot of the list.

Divine service was held every Sunday, Moyes and I taking it in turn.

There was only one hymn book amongst the party, which made it necessary

to write out copies of the hymns each week.

The sleeping-bags used on the first sledging journey had been hung up

near the roof. They were now taken down to be thoroughly overhauled. As

a consequence of their severe soaking, they had shrunk considerably and

required enlarging. Dovers's bag, besides contracting a good deal, had

lost much hair and was cut up to patch the others. He received a spare

one to replace it.

May 15 was a beautiful bright morning and I went over to an icy cape two

miles southward, with Harrisson, Hoadley, Dovers and Watson, to find

a road down to the sea-ice. Here, we had good fortune at last, for,

by following down a crevasse which opened out at sea-level into a

magnificent cave, we walked straight out on to the level plain. Along

the edge of the glacier there was not even a seal's blow-hole. Watson

took some photos of the cave and cliff.

It was Kennedy's term night; the work keeping him in the igloo from 10

P.M. until 2.30 A.M. He had had some difficulty in finding a means

of warming the observatory--an urgent necessity, since he found it

impossible to manipulate delicate magnetic instruments for three or four

hours with the temperature from -25 degrees F. to -30 degrees F. The

trouble was to make a non-magnetic lamp and the problem was finally

solved by using one of the aluminium cooking pots; converting it into

a blubber stove. The stove smoked a great deal and the white walls were

soon besmirched with a layer of soot.

The 17th, 18th and 19th were all calm but dull. One day I laid out a

ten-hole golf course and with some homemade balls and hockey sticks for

clubs played a game, not devoid of interest and excitement.

During a blizzard which descended on the evening of the 20th, Zip and

Sweep disappeared and on the 21st, a search on the glacier having been

in vain, Dovers and Hoadley made their way down to the floe. They found

Zip well and hearty in spite of having had a drop of at least forty feet

off the glacier. A further search for Sweep proved fruitless. We

were forced to conclude that he was either killed by falling over the

precipice or he had gone far away hunting for penguins.

The regular blizzard immured us on May 22, 23 and 24; the wind at

times of terrific force, approaching one hundred miles per hour. It was

impossible to secure meteorological observations or to feed the dogs

until noon on the 24th. Moyes and I went out during a slight cessation

and, with the aid of a rope from the trap-door, managed to find the

dogs, and gave them some biscuits. The drift was then so thick that six

feet was as far as one could see.

We did not forget Empire Day and duly "spliced the mainbrace." The most

bigoted teetotaller could not call us an intemperate party. On each

Saturday night, one drink per man was served out, the popular toast

being "Sweethearts and Wives." The only other convivial meetings of our

small symposium were on the birthdays of each member, Midwinter's Day

and King's Birthday.

On the 25th we were able to make an inventory of a whole series of

damages effected outside. The dogs' shelter had entirely carried away;

a short mast which had been erected some weeks previously as a holdfast

for sledges was snapped off short and the sledges buried, and, worst of

all, Kennedy's igloo had parted with its roof, the interior being filled

with snow, underneath which the instruments were buried. The dogs were,

however, all quite well and lively. It was fortunate for them that the

temperature always rose during the blizzards. At this period, when on

fine days it was usual to experience -25 degrees to-37 degrees F., the

temperature rose in the snowstorms to 25 degrees or even 30 degrees F.

Monday the 27th was beautifully clear. The tunnel entrance was opened

and some of the party brought in ice while others undid the rope

lashings which had been placed over the hut. This was so compactly

covered in snow that the lashings were not required and I wanted to make

a rope ladder to enable us to get down to the sea-ice and also to be

used by Watson and Hoadley, who were about to dig a shaft in the glacier

to examine the structure of the ice.

Fine weather continued until June 2. During this time we were occupied

in digging a road from the glacier down to the sea-ice in the forenoons

and hunting for seals or skiing in the afternoons. Kennedy and Harrisson

rebuilt the magnetic igloo. A seal-hole was eventually found near the

foot of the glacier and this was enlarged to enable the seals to come

up.

At the end of May, daylight lasted from 9 A.M. until 3 P.M., and the

sunrise and sunset were a marvel of exquisite colour. The nightly

displays of aurora australis were not very brilliant as the moon was

nearing the full.

On the days of blizzards, there was usually sufficient work to be found

to keep us all employed. Thus on June 2, Watson and I were making a

ladder, Jones was contriving a harpoon for seals, Hoadley was opening

cases and stowing stores in the veranda, Dovers cleaning tools, Moyes

repairing a thermograph and writing up the meteorological log, Harrisson

cooking and Kennedy sleeping after a night-watch.

Between June 4 and 22 there was a remarkably fine spell. It was not calm

all the time, as drift flew for a few days, limiting the horizon to a

few hundred yards. An igloo was built as a shelter for those sinking the

geological shaft, and seal-hunting was a daily recreation. On June 9,

Dovers and Watson found a Weddell seal two and a half miles to the west

on the sea-ice. They killed the animal but did not cut it up as there

were sores on the skin. Jones went over with them afterwards and

pronounced the sores to be wounds received from some other animal, so

the meat was considered innocuous and fifty pounds were brought in,

being very welcome after tinned foods. Jones took culture tubes with him

and made smears for bacteria. The tubes were placed in an incubator

and several kinds of organisms grew, very similar to those which infect

wounds in ordinary climates.

The snowstorms had by this time built up huge drifts under the lee of

the ice-cliffs, some of them more than fifty feet in height and reaching

almost to the top of the ice-shelf. An exhilarating sport was to ski

down these ramps. The majority of them were very steep and irregular

and it was seldom that any of us escaped without a fall at one time or

another. Several of the party were thrown from thirty to forty feet,

and, frequently enough, over twenty feet, without being hurt. The only

accident serious enough to disable any one happened to Kennedy on June

19, when he twisted his knee and was laid up for a week.

There were many fine displays of the aurora in June, the best being

observed on the evening of the 18th. Curtains and streamers were showing

from four o'clock in the afternoon. Shortly after midnight, Kennedy, who

was taking magnetic observations, called me to see the most remarkable

exhibition I have so far seen. There was a double curtain 30 degrees

wide unfolded from the eastern horizon through the zenith, with waves

shimmering along it so rapidly that they travelled the whole length of

the curtain in two seconds. The colouring was brilliant and evanescent.

When the waves reached the end of the curtain they spread out to

the north and rolled in a voluminous billow slowly back to the east.

Kennedy's instruments showed that a very great magnetic disturbance

was in progress during the auroral displays, and particularly on this

occasion.

Hoadley and Watson set up a line of bamboos, a quarter of a mile

apart and three miles long, on the 20th, and from thence onwards took

measurements for snowfall every fortnight.

On Midwinter's Day the temperature ranged from -38 degrees F. to -25

degrees F. and daylight lasted from 10 A.M. until 4 P.M. We proclaimed a

universal holiday throughout Queen Mary Land. Being Saturday, there were

a few necessary jobs to be done, but all were finished by 11 A.M. The

morning was fine and several of us went down to the floe for skiing, but

after twelve o'clock the sky became overcast and the light was dimmed.

A strong breeze brought along a trail of drift, and at 6 P.M. a heavy

blizzard was in full career. Inside, the hut was decorated with flags

and a savoury dinner was in the throes of preparation. To make the

repast still more appetising, Harrisson, Hoadley and Dovers devised some

very pretty and clever menus. Speeches, toasts and a gramophone concert

made the evening pass quickly and enjoyably.

From this time dated our preparations for spring sledging, which I

hoped would commence about August 15. Jones made some experiments with

"glaxo," of which we had a generous supply. His aim was to make biscuits

which would be suitable for sledging, and, after several failures, he

succeeded in compressing with a steel die a firm biscuit of glaxo and

butter mixed, three ounces of which was the equivalent in theoretical

food value to four and a half ounces of plasmon biscuit; thereby

affording a pleasant variety in the usual ration.

July came in quietly, though it was dull and cloudy, and we were able to

get out on the first two days for work and exercise. On the 2nd a

very fine effect was caused by the sun shining through myriads of

fog-crystals which a light northerly breeze had brought down from the

sea. The sun, which was barely clear of the horizon, was itself a deep

red, on either side and above it was a red mock sun and a rainbow-tinted

halo connected the three mock suns.

On the 5th and 6th the wind blew a terrific hurricane (judged to reach

a velocity of one hundred miles per hour) and, had we not known that

nothing short of an earthquake could move the hut, we should have been

very uneasy.

All were now busy making food-bags, opening and breaking up pemmican

and emergency rations, grinding biscuits, attending to personal gear and

doing odd jobs many and various.

In addition to recreations like chess, cards and dominoes, a competition

was started for each member to write a poem and short article, humorous

or otherwise, connected with the Expedition. These were all read by the

authors after dinner one evening and caused considerable amusement.

One man even preferred to sing his poem. These literary efforts were

incorporated in a small publication known as "The Glacier Tongue."

Watson and Hoadley put in a good deal of time digging their shaft in the

glacier. As a roofed shelter had been built over the top, they were able

to work in all but the very worst weather. While the rest of us were

fitting sledges on the 17th and 18th, they succeeded in getting down to

a level of twenty-one feet below the surface of the shelf-ice.

Sandow, the leader of the dogs, disappeared on the 18th. Zip, who had

been missed for two days, returned, but Sandow never came back, being

killed, doubtless, by a fall of snow from the cliffs. All along the edge

of the ice-shelf were snow cornices, some weighing hundreds of tons; and

these often broke away, collapsing with a thunderous sound. On July 31,

Harrisson and Watson had a narrow escape. After finishing their day's

work, they climbed down to the floe by a huge cornice and sloping ramp.

A few seconds later, the cornice fell and an immense mass of hard snow

crashed down, cracking the sea-ice for more than a hundred yards around.

July had been an inclement month with three really fine and eight

tolerable days. In comparison with June's, which was -14.5 degrees F.,

the mean temperature of July was high at -1.5 degrees F. and the early

half of August was little better.

Sunday August 11 was rather an eventful day. Dovers and I went out

in the wind to attend to the dogs and clear the chimney and, upon

our return, found the others just recovering from rather an exciting

accident. Jones had been charging the acetylene generators and by some

means one of them caught fire. For a while there was the danger of a

general conflagration and explosion, as the gas-tank was floating in

kerosene. Throwing water over everything would have made matters

worse, so blankets were used to smother the flames. As this failed to

extinguish them, the whole plant was pulled down and carried into the

tunnel, where the fire was at last put out. The damage amounted to two

blankets singed and dirtied, Jones's face scorched and hair singed, and

Kennedy, one finger jammed. It was a fortunate escape from a calamity.

A large capsized berg had been noticed for some time, eleven miles to

the north. On the 14th, Harrisson, Dovers, Hoadley and Watson took

three days' provisions and equipment and went off to examine it. A brief

account is extracted from Harrisson's diary:

"It was a particularly fine, mild morning; we made good progress, three

dogs dragging the loaded sledge over the smooth floe without difficulty,

requiring assistance only when crossing banks of soft snow. One and a

half miles from 'The Steps,' we saw the footprints of a penguin.

"Following the cliffs of the shelf-ice for six and three quarter miles,

we sighted a Weddell seal sleeping on a drift of snow. Killing the

animal, cutting off the meat and burying it in the drift delayed us for

about one hour. Continuing our journey under a fine bluff, over floe-ice

much cracked by tide-pressure, we crossed a small bay cutting wedge-like

into the glacier and camped on its far side.

"After our midday meal we walked to the berg three miles away. When seen

on June 28, this berg was tilted to the north-east, but the opposite

end, apparently in contact with the ice-cliffs, had lifted higher than

the glacier-shelf itself. From a distance it could be seen that the

sides, for half their height, were wave-worn and smooth. Three or four

acres of environing floe were buckled, ploughed up and in places heaped

twenty feet high, while several large fragments of the broken floe were

poised aloft on the old 'water-line' of the berg.

"However, on this visit, we found that the berg had turned completely

over towards the cliffs and was now floating on its side surrounded by

large separate chunks; all locked fast in the floe. In what had been the

bottom of the berg Hoadley and Watson made an interesting find of stones

and pebbles--the first found in this dead land!

"Leaving them collecting, I climbed the pitted wave-worn ice, brittle

and badly cracked on the higher part. The highest point was fifty feet

above the level of the top of the shelf-ice. There was no sign of open

water to the north, but a few seals were observed sleeping under the

cliffs."

Next morning the weather thickened and the wind arose, so a start

was made for the Base. All that day the party groped along in the

comparative shelter of the cliff-face until forced to camp. It was not

till the next afternoon in moderate drift that a pair of skis which had

been left at the foot of 'The Steps' were located and the hut reached

once again.

After lunch on August 11, while we were excavating some buried kerosene,

Jones sighted a group of seven Emperor penguins two miles away over the

western floe. Taking a sledge and camera we made after them. A mile off,

they saw us and advanced with their usual stately bows. It seemed an

awful shame to kill them, but we were sorely in need of fresh meat. The

four we secured averaged seventy pounds in weight and were a heavy load

up the steep rise to the glacier; but our reward came at dinner-time.

With several fine days to give us confidence, everything was made ready

for the sledge journey on August 20. The party was to consist of six men

and three dogs, the object of the journey being to lay out a food-depot

to the east in view of the long summer journey we were to make in that

direction. Hoadley and Kennedy were to remain at the Base, the former

to finish the geological shaft and the latter for magnetic work. There

remained also a good deal to do preparing stores for later sledge

journeys.

The load was to be one thousand four hundred and forty pounds

distributed over three sledges; two hundred pounds heavier than on the

March Journey, but as the dogs pulled one sledge, the actual weight per

man was less.

The rations were almost precisely the same as those used by Shackleton

during his Expedition, and the daily allowance was exactly the

same--thirty-four ounces per man per day. For his one ounce of oatmeal,

the same weighs of ground biscuit was substituted; the food value being

the same. On the second depot journey and the main summer journeys, a

three-ounce glaxo biscuit was used in place of four and a half ounces of

plasmon biscuit. Instead of taking cheese and chocolate as the luncheon

ration, I took chocolate alone, as on Shackleton's southern journey it

was found more satisfactory than the cheese, though the food value was

practically the same.

The sledging equipment and clothing were identical with that used by

Shackleton. Jaeger fleece combination suits were included in the outfit

but, though excellent garments for work at the Base, they were much too

heavy for sledging. We therefore wore Jaeger underclothing and burberry

wind clothing as overalls.

The weather was not propitious for a start until Thursday, August 22.

We turned out at 5.30 A.M., had breakfast, packed up and left the Hut at

seven o'clock.

After two good days' work under a magnificently clear sky, with the

temperature often as low as -34 degrees F., we sighted two small

nunataks among a cluster of pressure-ridges, eight miles to the south.

It was the first land, in the sense of rocks, seen for more than seven

months. We hoped to visit the outcrops--Gillies Nunataks--on our return.

The course next day was due east and parallel to the mainland, then ten

miles distant. To the north was Masson Island, while at about the same

distance and ahead was a smaller island, entirely ice-covered like the

former--Henderson Island.

A blizzard of three days' duration kept us in camp between August 27 and

30. Jones, Moyes and I had a three-man sleeping-bag, and the temperature

being high, 11 degrees to 15 degrees F., we were very warm, but

thoroughly tired of lying down for so long. Harrisson, Dovers and Watson

had single bags and therefore less room in the other tent.

The last day of August was beautifully bright: temperature -12 degrees

to -15 degrees F. We passed Henderson Island in the forenoon,

and, hauling up a rise to the south of it, had a good view of the

surroundings. On the right, the land ran back to form a large bay,

seventeen miles wide. This was later named the Bay of Winds, as a "blow"

was always encountered while crossing it.

In the centre of the bay was a nunatak, which from its shape at once

received the name of the Alligator. In front, apparently fifteen miles

off, was another nunatak, the Hippo, and four definite outcrops--Delay

Point and Avalanche Rocks--could be seen along the mainland. The sight

of this bare rock was very pleasing, as we had begun to think we were

going to find nothing but ice-sheathed land. Dovers took a round of

angles to all the prominent points.

The Hippo was twenty-two miles away, so deceptive is distance in these

latitudes; and in one and a half days, over very heavy sastrugi, we were

in its vicinity. The sledges could not be brought very near the rock as

it was surrounded by massive ridges of pressure-ice.

We climbed to the top of the nunatak which was four hundred and twenty

feet high, four hundred yards long and two hundred yards wide. It was

composed of gneissic granite and schists. Dovers took angles from an

eminence, Watson collected geological specimens and Harrisson sketched

until his fingers were frost-bitten. Moss and lichens were found and a

dead snow petrel--a young one--showing that the birds must breed in the

vicinity.

To the south, the glacier shelf appeared to be very little broken,

but to the north it was terribly torn and twisted. At each end of the

nunatak there was a very fine bergschrund.** Twenty miles to the east

there appeared to be an uncovered rocky islet; the mainland turning

to the southward twelve miles away. During the night the minimum

thermometer registered -47 degrees F.

** The term not used in the usual sense. Referring to a wide,

imposing crevasse caused by the division of the ice as it presses past

the nunatak.--ED.

An attempt to get away next morning was frustrated by a strong gale. We

were two hundred yards from the shelter of the Hippo and were forced to

turn back, since it was difficult to keep one's feet, while the sledges

were blown sideways over the neve surface.

I resolved to leave the depot in this place and return to the Base,

for our sleeping-bags were getting very wet and none of the party were

having sufficient sleep. We were eighty-four miles from the hut; I had

hoped to do one hundred miles, but we could make up for that by starting

the summer journey a few days earlier. One sledge was left here as well

as six weeks' allowance of food for three men, except tea, of which

there was sufficient for fifty days, seventy days oil and seventy-eight

days' biscuit. The sledge was placed on end in a hole three feet deep

and a mound built up around it, six feet high; a bamboo and flag being

lashed to the top.

On September 4 we were homeward bound, heading first to the mainland

leaving Delay Point on our left, to examine some of the outcrops of

rock. Reaching the coast about 3 P.M., camp was shortly afterwards

pitched in a most beautiful spot. A wall of solid rock rose sheer for

over four hundred feet and was crowned by an ice-cap half the thickness.

Grand ice-falls surged down on either side.

The tents were erected in what appeared to be a sheltered hollow, a

quarter of a mile from Avalanche Rocks. One tent was up and we were

setting the other in position when the wind suddenly veered right round

to the east and flattened out both tents. It was almost as humorous as

annoying. They were soon raised up once more, facing the other way.

While preparing for bed, a tremendous avalanche came down. The noise

was awful and seemed so close that we all turned to the door and started

out. The fastening of the entrance was knotted, the people from the

other tent were yelling to us to come out, so we dragged up the bottom

of the tent and dived beneath it.

The cliff was entirely hidden by a cloud of snow, and, though

the crashing had now almost ceased, we stood ready to run, Dovers

thoughtfully seizing a food-bag. However, none of the blocks had come

within a hundred yards of us, and as it was now blowing hard, all hands

elected to remain where they were.

Several more avalanches, which had broken away near the edge of the

mainland, disturbed our sleep through the night, but they were not quite

so alarming as the first one. A strong breeze was blowing at daybreak;

still the weather was not too bad for travelling, and so I called the

party. Moyes and I lashed up our bags, passed them out and strapped them

on the sledge; Jones, in the meantime, starting the cooker. Suddenly a

terrific squall struck the front of our tent, the poles burst through

the apex, and the material split from top to bottom.

Moyes and I were both knocked down. When we found our feet again, we

went to the aid of the other men, whose tent had survived the gust. The

wind rushed by more madly than ever, and the only thing to do was to

pull away the poles and allow the tent to collapse.

Looking around for a lee where it could be raised, we found the only

available shelter to be a crevasse three hundred yards to windward, but

the wind was now so strong that it was impossible to convey the gear

even to such a short distance. All were frequently upset and blown along

the surface twenty or thirty yards, and, even with an ice-axe, one could

not always hold his own. The only resort was to dig a shelter.

Setting to work, we excavated a hole three feet deep, twelve feet long

and six feet wide; the snow being so compact that the job occupied three

hours. The sledges and tent-poles were placed across the hole, the good

tent being laid on top and weighted down with snow and blocks of ice.

All this sounds very easy, but it was a slow and difficult task. Many

of the gusts must have exceeded one hundred miles per hour, since one of

them lifted Harrisson who was standing beside me, clean over my head and

threw him nearly twenty feet. Everything movable was stowed in the

hole, and at noon we had a meal and retired into sleeping-bags. At three

o'clock a weighty avalanche descended, its fearful crash resounding

above the roar of the wind. I have never found anything which gave me a

more uncomfortable feeling than those avalanches.

The gale continued on September 6, and we still remained packed in the

trench. If the latter had been deeper and it had been possible to sit

upright, we should have been quite comfortable. To make matters worse,

several more avalanches came down, and all of them sounded horribly

close.

We were confined in our burrow for five days, the wind continuing

to blow with merciless force. Through being closed up so much, the

temperature of the hole rose above freezing-point, consequently our

sleeping-bags and clothes became very wet.

On Sunday September 8, Moyes went out to feed the dogs and to bring in

some biscuit. He found a strong gusty wind with falling snow, and drift

so thick that he could not see five yards. We had a cold lunch with

nothing to drink, so that the primus should not raise the temperature.

In the evening we sang hymns and between us managed to remember the

words of at least a dozen.

The long confinement was over on the 10th; the sky was blue and the sun

brilliant, though the wind still pulsated with racking gusts. As soon

as we were on the ice, away from the land, two men had to hold on to the

rear of each sledge, and even then capsizes often occurred. The sledge

would turn and slide broadside-on to leeward, tearing the runners badly

on the rough ice. Still, by 9.30 A.M. the surface changed to snow and

the travelling improved. That night we camped with twenty miles one

hundred yards on the meter.

There was a cold blizzard on the 11th with a temperature of -30 degrees

F. Confined in the tents, we found our sleeping-bags still sodden and

uncomfortable.

With a strong beam wind and in moderate drift big marches were made for

two days, during which the compass and sastrugi determined our course.

My diary of September 14 runs as follows:

"On the march at 7 A.M.; by noon we had done twelve miles one thousand

five hundred yards. Lunch was hurried, as we were all anxious to get to

the hut to-night, especially we in the three-man bag, as it got so wet

while we were living underground that we have had very little sleep and

plenty of shivering for the last four nights. Last night I had no sleep

at all. By some means, in the afternoon, we got on the wrong course.

Either the compass was affected or a mistake had been made in some of

the bearings, as instead of reaching home by 5 P.M. we were travelling

till 8 P.M. and have done thirty-two miles one thousand one hundred

yards. Light loads, good surface and a fair wind account for the good

travelling, the sail doing almost all the work on the man-hauled sledge.

"The last two hours we were in the dark, except for a young moon,

amongst a lot of crevasses and pressure-ridges which none of us could

recognize. At one time, we found ourselves on a slope within a dozen

yards of the edge of the glacier; this decided me to camp. Awfully

disappointing; anticipating another wretched night. Temperature-35

degrees F."

Next day we reached home. The last camp had been four and a half miles

north of the hut. I found that we had gone wrong through using 149

degrees as the bearing of Masson Island from the Base, when it should

have been 139 degrees. I believe it was my own mistake, as I gave the

bearing to Dovers and he is very careful.

Before having a meal, we were all weighed and found the average loss to

be eight pounds. In the evening, Moyes and I weighed ourselves again; he

had gained seven pounds and I five and three-quarter pounds.

Comparing notes with Hoadley and Kennedy, I found that the weather at

the Base had been similar to that experienced on the sledging journey.

It was now arranged that Jones was to take charge of the main western

journey in the summer. While looking for a landing-place in the

'Aurora', we had noted to the west an expanse of old, fast floe,

extending for at least fifty miles. The idea was for Jones and party

to march along this floe and lay a depot on the land as far west as was

possible in four weeks. The party included Dovers, Harrisson, Hoadley

and Moyes. They were to be assisted by the dogs.

It was my intention to take Kennedy and Watson up to the depot we had

left on the hills in March, bringing back the minimum thermometer and

probably some of the food. Watson was slightly lame at the time, as he

had bruised his foot on the last trip.

Until Jones made a start on September 26, there were ten days of almost

continuous wind and drift. The equinox may have accounted for this

prolonged period of atrocious weather. No time, however, was wasted

indoors. Weighing and bagging food, repairing tents, poles, cookers and

other gear damaged on the last journey and sewing and mending clothes

gave every man plenty of employment.

At 6 A.M. on the 26th, Jones reported that there was only a little low

drift and that the wind was dying away. All hands were therefore called

and breakfast served.

Watson, Kennedy and I assisted the others down to the sea-ice by a long

sloping snow-drift and saw them off to a good start in a south-westerly

direction. We found that the heavy sledge used for carrying ice had been

blown more then five hundred yards to the edge of the glacier, capsized

among the rough pressure-slabs and broken. Two heavy boxes which were on

the sledge had disappeared altogether.

The rest of the day was devoted to clearing stores out of the tunnels.

It was evident to us that with the advent of warmer weather, the roof

of the caves or grottoes (by the way, the hut received the name of

"The Grottoes") would sink, and so it was advisable to repack the cases

outside rather than dig them out of the deep snow. By 6 P.M. nearly two

hundred boxes were passed up through the trap-door and the caverns were

all empty.

After two days of blizzard, Watson, Kennedy and I broke trail with loads

of one hundred and seventy pounds per man. Right from the start the

surface was so soft that pulling became very severe. On the first day,

September 29, we managed to travel more than nine miles, but during

the next six days the snow became deeper and more impassable, and only

nineteen miles were covered. Crevasses were mostly invisible, and on the

slope upwards to the ice-cap more troublesome than usual. The weather

kept up its invariable wind and drift. Finally, after making laborious

headway to two thousand feet, Kennedy strained his Achilles tendon and I

decided to return to "The Grottoes."

At 2 P.M. on October 8, the mast was sighted and we climbed down

into the Hut, finding it very cold, empty and dark. The sun had

shone powerfully that day and Kennedy and Watson had a touch of

snow-blindness.

Two weeks went by and there was no sign of the western depot party. In

fact, out of sixteen days, there were thirteen of thick drift and high

wind, so that our sympathies went out to the men in tents with soaking

bags, waiting patiently for a rift in the driving wall of snow. On

October 23 they had been away for four weeks; provisions for that time

having been taken. I had no doubt that they would be on reduced rations,

and, if the worst came, they could eat the dogs.

During a lull on October 24, I went to the masthead with the

field-glasses but saw nothing of the party. On that day we weighed out

provisions and made ready to go in search of them. It was my intention

to go on the outward track for a week. I wrote instructions to Jones to

hoist a large flag on the mast, and to burn flares each night at 10 P.M.

if he should return while I was away.

There was a fresh gale with blinding drift early on the following

morning; so we postponed the start. At 4 P.M. the wind subsided to

a strong breeze and I again went up the mast to sweep the horizon.

Westward from an icy cape to the south a gale was still blowing and a

heavy cloud of drift, fifty to sixty feet high, obscured everything.

An hour later Watson saw three Adelie penguins approaching across the

floe and we went down to meet them, bringing them in for the larder.

Four Antarctic petrels flew above our heads: a sign of returning summer

which was very cheering.

The previous night had promised a fine day and we were not disappointed

on October 26. A sledge was packed with fourteen days' provisions for

eight men and we started away on a search expedition at 10 A.M.

After doing a little over nine miles we camped at 5.30 P.M. Before

retiring to bag, I had a last look round and was delighted to see Jones

and his party about a mile to the south. It was now getting dark and we

were within two hundred yards of them before being seen, and, as they

were to windward, they could not hear our shouts. It was splendid

to find them all looking well. They were anxious to get back to "The

Grottoes," considering there was only one serviceable tent between them.

Kennedy and I offered to change with any of them but, being too eager

for warm blankets and a good bed, they trudged on, arriving at the Base

at midnight.

Briefly told, their story was that they were stopped in their westerly

march, when forty-five miles had been covered, by a badly broken

glacier--Helen Glacier--on the far side of which there was open sea.

There was only one thing to do and that was to set out for the mainland

by a course so circuitous that they were brought a long way eastward,

back towards "The Grottoes." They had very rough travelling, bad

weather, and were beset with many difficulties in mounting on to the

land-ice, where the depot had to be placed. Their distance from the

Base at this point was only twenty-eight miles and the altitude was one

thousand feet above sea-level. On the ice-cap they were delayed by a

blizzard and for seventeen days--an unexampled time--they were unable to

move from camp. One tent collapsed and the occupants, Jones, Dovers and

Hoadley, had to dig a hole in the snow and lower the tent into it.

These are a few snatches from Jones's diary:

"The next sixteen days (following Wednesday, October 9) were spent at

this camp.... Harrisson and Moyes occupied one tent and Dovers, Hoadley

and myself the other.

"On Saturday, the third day of the blizzard, the wind which had been

blowing steadily from the east-south-east veered almost to east and the

tents commenced to flog terrifically. This change must have occurred

early in the night, for we awoke at 5 A.M. to find clouds of snow

blowing under the skirt on one side: the heavy pile on the flounce

having been cut away by the wind. As it would have been impossible to do

anything outside, we pulled the tent poles together and allowed the tent

to collapse. The rest of the day was spent in confined quarters, eating

dry rations and melting snow in our mugs by the warmth of our bodies....

Although Harrisson and Moyes were no more than twenty feet from us, the

noise of the gale and the flogging of our tents rendered communication

impossible.

"The terrible flapping at last caused one of the seams of our tent to

tear; we sewed it as well as we were able and hoped that it would hold

till daylight.

"On Monday morning, the same seam again parted and we decided to let the

tent down again, spending the day in a half-reclining position....

"At 6.30 P.M. the gale eased and, during a comparative lull, Moyes came

out to feed the dogs. Noticing our position, he helped us to re-erect

the tent and Dovers then went out and piled snow over the torn seam.

Moyes said that Harrisson and he had been fairly comfortable, although

the cap of their tent was slowly tearing with the pressure of the wind

and snow on the weather panels....

"On Friday, the 18th, Swiss, one of the dogs, returned very thin after

six days' absence from the camp.

"On the following Monday the blizzard moderated somewhat and we

proceeded to make our quarters more roomy by digging out the floor and

undercutting the sides, thus lowering the level about eighteen inches.

"Our tent now looks as if it were half blown over. To relieve the

tremendous strain on the cap, we lowered the feet of the two lee poles

on to the new floor. The tent now offered very little resistance to the

wind. We were able to communicate with Harrisson and Moyes and they said

they were all right."

When the snow and wind at last held up, they immediately made down

to the sea-ice and back towards home, and, when they met us, had done

nineteen miles. All were stiff next day, and no wonder; a march

of twenty-eight miles after lying low for seventeen days is a very

strenuous day's work.