Chapter VI: Making Winter Quarters at Cape Evans (5)

The other party had killed eleven seals, and returned two hours later. We had a grand feed of seal-liver seasoned with peas. A box of dried peas was one of the relics of the 1902 expedition, which was dug up from the snow; and though the outside was black and mouldy, the heart of the box furnished us with magnificent dishes of “pea-doo.”

The blubber stove worked better every day. One “fid” (or slab) of seal blubber would soon make the iron top red-hot. So we were actually able to wash the pannikins! Only those who have drunk cocoa and tea for months out of mugs, used also for pemmican and blubber fry, can understand the luxury of a _clean_ drink.

Never shall I forget my feeling of comfort that night. We had managed to dry our bags in the midday sun, and I can still recall the springy warmth of the reindeer bags, after so many days of what at best was clammy discomfort.

The blubber stove in the old _Discovery_ hut, March, 1911.
]

On the 16th Evans led a party to Corner Camp, about thirty-five miles to the south, to get some fodder for our two ponies, and also some stores for the sixteen men in our little community. He asked Wright to join him, so that our mate was soon in the thick of the blizzards again.

Just outside the door were the dog-lines. The dogs lay in “rifle-pits” dug out of the icy slopes above the bay. Poor fellows, their fur was clogged with ice, and their short commons on the Barrier made them woefully thin. Very miserable did they look for some days, for their hair is normally so thick that it lends them a fictitious size. I assisted Meares to dig the holes deeper, and build up barriers to the south. It was pleasant to see how the rest and abundance of seal meat soon improved them out of all recognition. Many of them were loosed when we went for a walk. They would start out with us, and lend a touch of home to the dour landscape, but they were not very companionable, and, except for brown Tsigan, they always left us behind as too slow, and later bolted for the hut.

In a day or two our party swung into routine in the old hut. We could not move more than a mile or so from Hut Point. We had nothing here but fragments left over from 1902, and some sledging rations, and yet the time passed not unpleasantly, for there were a thousand and one jobs to be done. I will quote my diary fairly fully for 17th March, for it was typical of the next few weeks.

“We got up rather late, so that I read the thermometer at 9 a.m. instead of 8 a.m. After that had breakfast of porridge and a ripping ‘hoosh’ of liver. Then a cup of cocoa, to which three pills of Gran’s saccharine gave a sweet inky taste. I next sewed up a six-inch tear in my sleeping-bag. I did not sleep well last night, nor did Scott, who was next; I will try fur _inside_ to-night. It is blizzing again, and I am glad I am not on the Barrier with Evans, Wright, and the rest.

“Then I pared some sealskin soles thin (the fresh skin is just like soft leather) and sewed them into the old finnesko presented to me by Gran. We played “shut-eye” for a tin of marmalade. [I ladled out a spoonful, and Scott, with shut eyes, said whose it was; and so on.] We had two and a half spoons each, and as it was Keohane’s birthday I gave him the tin to scrape out.

“At lunch we had a great discussion on Browning and Tennyson. My simile comparing them to a rough rare mineral and polished rubbish was not accepted! Scott preferred Keats. Meares opened tins with my dagger in military fashion, as he had learnt in South Africa [_i.e._ he made a fulcrum of a bar of wood beneath the blade]. Scott tried to improve the lighting by smearing blubber on the windows, which at any rate made it easier to flake the fresh ice off each day. Dr. Bill is mending gloves with pared sealskin. Gran is making a ski-stick from a piece of bamboo he’s found. Debenham is tidying the kitchen, and puts up racks to hold the ‘spirtles’ (_i.e._ porridge-stirrers). I rifled the 1902 magnetic huts, and cut out lids for the porridge-pans from sheets of asbestos. Our literature consists of _Contemporary Reviews_, _Eclectic Magazines_, _Girls’ Own_, and the _Family Herald_.”

We spent some time trying to make the hut snugger. We piled heaps of snow and ice against the walls to keep off the blizzards. Among the debris I found ancient dog biscuits which reverted to their original purpose, and an old bag of oatmeal which went into our menu. A great discovery was a torn copy of “My Lady Rotha.” The first and last chapters were missing, but I gathered the loose pages and dried them, and enjoyed reading it again. Curiously no one else in the hut had read it, and as we had only about three books, every one read Weyman’s novel. I couldn’t remember quite how it ended, for the plot is very concentrated to the end; the elderly hero not having found a son or a second wife; and the lady debating between the ancient count and the lunatic lover. I am afraid I finished it off in several ways to various applicants, none of which would have pleased the author!

There was another book which Gran had taken sledging and had torn off the first few pages for pipe lights. This was “Springtime,” a romance of medieval Italy. A good yarn, and Scott guessed it was by Hewlett. I disagreed, but couldn’t remember the writer—who is H. C. Bailey, I believe.

It was very curious how useful were the 1902 remains. That expedition wintered on the ship, but some articles had been left ashore, and the hut had only been used as a hospital.

However, we found old _awnings_, which Taff Evans used as arras (or is it _arrases_?) for our bed-chamber! There were asbestos sheets with which we levelled the floor, and made pan lids; brass nails, also from the magnetic hut, which had not rusted of course; long stove pipes and asbestos cement, with which we ultimately made a smoke-free blubber stove. A dubious mass of brownish glue turned up under some snow. Bowers tested this, and ultimately we had bovril flavouring in all our hooshes! And there was of course the definite depôt of captain’s biscuits left in 1903, and also a few wholemeal biscuits which Shackleton had depôted in 1908. The latter swelled like muffins on the red-hot stove, and we used to have one with butter as a special luxury. Those Shackleton biscuits were a dream!

On the 20th seals were reported just under Hut Point, and of course were much handier than the rookery at Pram Point. So Scott and four of us went off to get them. We lowered Keohane and Evans down the steep cliff below Vince’s Cross on to a piece of fixed floe, and the two seals were killed with a few blows on the nose with a pick handle. Dr. Bill and Meares went down to help cut them up, and Scott and I hoisted the flesh up by the ropes. Just as we were finishing three more seals appeared, and one crawled right up to the shambles. He stayed there all the time, and only left when the carcases were thrown overboard.

That night there was a wild storm. Spray was blown up over the cape and over the hut, where it instantly froze. It cemented the snow heaps, and would have encased some of the dogs if they had not been freed from their chains. Next morning I had to chip my way down to the shelf where I had left the thermometers. We had to cut out fresh holes for the dogs, during which operation one aggressive fellow got hold of another by the neck, and the combined efforts of the sapping party could not drag him off.

When the weather permitted we went off to get seals or to have some exercise. A strong wind used to blow almost constantly towards the hut through the “Gap.”

Often when one was loaded with seal blubber, or camping material, the icy slope between the gap and the hut was dangerous work. By this time our crampons (spiked overshoes) were useless, for the spikes had worn quite blunt. The wind would catch us, and irresistibly slant us down the ice slope to the sea. On several occasions, when one of the Western Party was wearing his iron _steig-eisen_, an unfortunate crampon-wearer would clutch hold of him and accept escort over this giant “slide.”

_Photo by H. G. Ponting._]

CRATER HEIGHTS, THE GAP AND OBSERVATION HILL AS VIEWED FROM THE OLD
“DISCOVERY” HUT.

The catenary curve of the Gap, due to glaciation, is well shown. In
the foreground is the icy slope which ended (abruptly on the right)
in open water.
]

_Photo by H. G. Ponting._]

MOUNT EREBUS FROM THE OLD “DISCOVERY” HUT.

The steam cloud is blowing to the south-east against the prevailing
surface winds. The small craters of Cape Armitage are shown on the
left as stumps of lava. A series of false moraines crosses the
picture (due to rock fall). In the foreground are the “tesselations”
due to soil-creep.
]

What long discussions we had! Scott was interested in everything, and I note that one evening we discussed Mormonism, the medieval ramparts of Aigues Mortes, and the pronunciation of ancient Greek!

On the 23rd March the Barrier party returned. They had experienced temperatures of −42° F. Wright told me that it used to take three hours to get warm—after they had thawed the ice out of their bags. On leaving the tent in the morning in a clammy wet state, the instantaneous freezing of their clothes felt like an electric shock!

I made a tour to inspect the “moraines” on Crater Heights, accompanied by Dr. Wilson. I believe they are due to differential erosion of lavas of varying resistance, and have not been left there by an upward extension of the Barrier Ice Sheet.

Dr. Bill told me of the loss of the ponies. He and Meares with the dog teams made straight across to the hut over the sea-ice from the Barrier camp. They noticed cracks every thirty feet or so, and so deviated sharply to the east, and reached _terra firma_ at Pram Point. They then started cutting a track up the ice slope for the ponies. Meanwhile Bowers, Garrard, and Crean had not noticed the dog teams swerving, but had turned back later. They had to camp on the sea-ice, because the ponies were too “done” to get back two miles to the Barrier ice. They woke in the small hours of 1st March to find that one pony had vanished, and they were adrift on a broken floe. They drifted about all night and next day, while Wilson could do nothing but watch them from the top of Observation Hill. Wilson went off and met Scott, who had come to the open water, and was able to tell him that there was a chance yet.

The pony party spent four hours or more trying to get to a large piece of ice to the south, which seemed to be separated from the firm barrier by a narrow crevasse. They left the ponies and went off to prospect, and found the space was sixty feet wide and full of grinding floes! There was a big swell all around, but Bowers gave Crean permission to try to cross the gap. He managed to do so by some amazing jumps, and with the aid of two ice-axes he climbed the edge of the Ice Barrier, and so informed Scott of their danger.

Meanwhile Cherry and Birdie took things philosophically. I heard how Birdie took angles with the theodolite to determine the position of their floating island. A skua gull settled near them, and Cherry thought it well to annex this food supply, and did so. I was told that Crean made some stiff cocoa for them while they were trying to rescue the sledges. In the dark he mixed the food bags and a strong decoction of curry resulted. Nothing daunted, the Irish sailor declared it was as warming as the other, and drank it off.

On the afternoon of the 1st the rescue party managed to communicate with them, and Bowers and Cherry and most of the sledge stores were saved. But the ponies had to be left that night with feed bags to comfort them. Next day the three ponies had drifted to a more favourable spot farther to the south-west. Here the rescue party busily set to work and cut out a path up the face of the Barrier. Nobby was jumped from floe to floe, and at length reached the firm ice of the Barrier. But the other two ponies were weaker. The second jumped short, and though he managed to scramble on to the floe again, he was too cold and weak to stand, and fell into the water again. So, too, the third pony. All round were eighteen killer-whales waiting for the end. To save them from a worse death their owners pole-axed them as they feebly struggled in the icy waters of the Sound.

[The tracks on the breaking edge of the Barrier were seen by us on the 11th March, just before the blizzard caught us and held us up two days.]

There were now again sixteen men in the old hut, and sleeping quarters were arranged as follows. Scott, Evans, Taylor, Debenham, Wright, and Forde slept in the West End; Wilson, Meares, Bowers, and Garrard in Virtue Villa; while Gran, Taff Evans, Keohane, and Crean lay around the stove.

BOWERS’ PARTY ADRIFT ON THE SEA-ICE.

From a drawing by D. Low.
]

With so many human furnaces at work, the temperature inside the hut rose to 46° F. on one occasion. As a natural result, our ceiling dripped abominably. We laid hands on all the empty tins about, and tied them on strings to the ceiling under the more obnoxious drops! Very skilfully we each tried to lie between two small cataracts, with the result that boundary commissions were frequently necessary to decide on encroachment into foreign territory!

The activities of the geologists incited all the other officers to emulation. Bowers was the most indefatigable of these “pseudo-scientists,” and was always bringing some huge specimen along to Debenham or myself. “Here you are,” Birdie would say of a particularly uninteresting block, “here’s a gabbroid nodule impaled in basalt with felspar and olivine rampant.”

The sun was giving us his farewell before winter. Very beautiful were the sunset tints; and on the 25th I wrote: “Over Mt. Discovery are bands of stratus, across a black sky, while in the foreground are pools in thin ice looking like bog lands. To the south the sky shows orange-yellow to white tints; to the north, beautiful lemon-green verging into grey and yellow on the east. To the west, grey-green, with a bright orange band against which stands the purple line of Mount Lister. D—— fine, only I’d rather have two feet of solid sea-ice, and no lemon-green reflections in the pools!”

Later in the day, Wilson gave Oates and myself a talk on tone-values. At 6 p.m. the landscape was rosy pink everywhere where the sun glanced on the snow-fields, salmon to buff colour on the open water, and on the newly freezing sea iridescent like tar. The shadow of Brown Island was lemon-green, changing to purple on Mount Discovery—while for a few minutes our own shadows were the most vivid bright blue!

It is impossible to imagine how striking if evanescent these colours were, and as possibly some critics believe that Wilson’s sketches erred on the bright side, I have here copied my notes made on the spot, while Dr. Bill was drawing his sketches.

Next morning I was cook with Wright and Titus Oates. I lit the blubber lamp and a candle while Oates set the fire going. Some chips and a page or two of the _Quiver_ rubbed in blubber started it that morning. It was then only necessary to put on a fid of fresh blubber from the tin alongside, about the size of a bath bun. The blubber sizzled merrily on the grid, a big hot flame sprang up and licked the blubber and melted fresh supplies, and soon the stove was going strong. The hoosh was a porridge-biscuit dish with a few bits of seal in for luck. After breakfast I washed up the pots and cleaned the cookers.

Captain Oates apparently had a Spartan objection to our comfortable clothing. I shall have something to say about his canvas trousers, but his objection to our helmets resulted in a Dutch sackcloth affair which was designed and made in the old Discovery Hut.

About this time Debenham was discovered to be an expert cook, and thenceforward presided over the culinary mysteries. His speciality was a confection known as “chupatties.” These were a kind of unleavened currant scone, made of flour and biscuit-dust and some cornflour. We used to have about four to a man, so that sixty-four of these took some making.

Some of our fireside arguments were quite lengthy. I raised the question of city design, advocating the cobweb pattern. I found that Wilson agreed with me, while Scott and Wright took the opposite view. Belfast and American cities, Paris, Melbourne, London, and even unborn Canberra (the Australian capital) were dragged into the debate. After it was well started we drew back and enjoyed the “cag” between Dr. Bill and the Owner, each backing his own views with great pertinacity! On another evening we had the oft-arising problem as to whether Lord Kelvin was a Thompson or a Thomson, and I won a stick of chocolate through chancing on the right spelling.

Towards the end of March the ice in the bay by the hut commenced to freeze. On the 28th Wright was lowered on to the Bay and found the ice three to four inches thick, so that we began to have hopes of getting to our own headquarters in a week. Dr. Bill and Birdie made a remarkable feast which they called seal-rissole. We indulged largely and—probably in consequence—vivid dreams were retailed next morning.

There is nothing so boring as dreams, I am aware, but I am going to quote my diary! “I was back in a suburb of Sydney, and in the distance saw an acquaintance of mine (H——). He moved away hurriedly. I caught him up, and told him I was really in Antarctica, but wanted him to note the time when I astrally visited Sydney. I remembered his name was Rupert. Guess this was the effect of the rissoles.”

Every evening before sleeping, Scott, Wilson, Debenham, and I had some sort of a scientific discussion, usually on a local geological problem—such as the origin of Castle Rock—for many such confronted us.

For these evening occupations we used home-made blubber lamps. A favourite make was based on a tin matchbox. Two ordinary wax matches served as wicks. As usual with blubber, the black oil leaked everywhere.

On the 31st Wright and I found that Discovery Harbour had 7½ inches of ice over its surface. The ice looked just like cocoanut ice and was no harder, but was very elastic and supported us safely. We walked across to Observation Hill, and saw a seal near the shore. I wrote, “Charles smiled at him, and as he fainted I pole-axed him. He wriggled twice or so and then died.” We climbed up and over the Gap, and got down on the east side. Then we walked two miles to Pram Point. Here the ice varied somewhat. In places huge splashes of slush had frozen; in others ribbons eight inches thick had overridden each other. All seemed bumped up by swinging against the fixed ice-foot. Black wedges of clear ice grew out into the water channels, and the edges of the latter were often warped and twisted. In Pram Bay there were numerous seals; one barked or growled, another opened his jaws nearly 180°, and his tongue shivered at us. A third gurgled musically, but only on one note. Later I saw one menacing his neighbour and barking at him.

About 200 yards inland was a cache where we had seven seal carcases ready for consumption.

As we returned I found some small fish, about eight inches long (_Notothenia_) buried in the ice, and three smaller fry lying on the surface. The stakes left by Ferrar in the ice across the Gap still seemed to be in line, so that there had been no movement of the ice since 1903. On reaching the hut we reprimanded Dr. Bill and Bowers for collecting “gabbroid nodules,” etc., when their zoological tastes should have sent them fishing. After which we exhibited the frozen sprats.

I began the month of April by helping Bowers as cook. I write: “At 7.15 threw back sleeping-bag after uncoiling my jersey from my neck. Put on coat and finnesko, and was fully dressed. Curious that one feels no worse for lack of a wash, bath or change, for over two months.”

We had a tasty bovril hoosh, flavoured by some of the treasure trove. Debenham and Wright dived deeply into their pots and brought up chaff. (Birdie’s joke for April 1st!) The seal we had killed was declared to be suffering from liver complaint, and weak heart. Hence his susceptibility to sudden shock! Anyhow the dogs ate all but the flippers and seemed none the worse.

Wright and I went further south on our next walk, right beyond Cape Armitage. I took to finnesko finally, for conduction along a big nail in the leather boots had frostbitten my toe, and for months afterwards I had little sensation in it.

“We saw an emperor penguin walking towards us with a rolling gait. He retreated as we individually surrounded him, then bolted on his belly with snaky neck vibrating amid squawks. He turned on Wright, who killed him with two whacks on the neck and two picks in the brain. I pithed him with my penknife. Unfortunately he bled muchly and spoiled his yellow tie, so we dug a little pit and laid his head therein, to save the plumage.”

Off the end of the Cape were many open pools of water, but I crossed between easily enough. The water was washing across, and had perhaps thickened the band of ice. Here I found many of the fish on the ice surface. Probably they were chased into the mushy ice by seals, and froze fast. I proceeded round to the east, and then climbed Observation Hill, finding Dr. Bill on the top busily sketching.

As the sun sank below the stratus cloud the golden beams shone past the Hut and showed up beautifully on the snowy surface of the Sound. We saw this tawny area gradually advance to the fixed ice and give it a rose-pink flush. The deep purplish shadow from Hut Point enchanted Dr. Bill, who made a complete sketch in about ten minutes. The sun’s low shadows on the slight corrugations of the ice and the elongated shadows of Wright with the sledge were very striking.

Later Scott returned and complimented us on getting round the Cape safely; in fact, he said that he was glad there were pioneers ahead when he tackled it!

On the 2nd Scott reported the first aurora at 3 a.m. He said it extended to within ten degrees of the zenith from the south, was of a reddish hue and like a curtain with two folds. Birdie saw it later and said he thought it was a peculiar cirrus cloud! So I felt that the colours could not have been very brilliant.

Scott, Oates, and myself never aspired to be considered cooks, but it was pleasing to see the anxiety of the others to earn a _cordon bleu_! But I was quite willing to help if others shouldered the ensuing blame! For instance, at lunch on this particular day Wright and I made what he christened a “cheese sponge.” “We stirred it about an hour in hopes of getting it to ‘jell,’ but it remained obdurately granular. However, by carving off lumps of our butter it went down O.K. But a quarter of a pound of butter for sixteen men is little enough!”

Lieutenant Evans started to cut a road down to the bay ice through the twelve-foot ice cliff. We dumped the ice from the excavation on to the bay ice, hoping to build up a ramp. The ice was in layers alternating with snow, the former probably representing spray-cemented snow. Soon the sea-ice cracked under the weight of our delta, and the latter sank more and more. It was like filling the ocean, and at 7 p.m. only a few jagged blocks showed where we had piled all our excavated material.

We had some of our penguin for supper. He weighed 92 lbs., and was about a record.

The “pseudo-scientists” were keen collectors. Some augite crystals being found on the side of Observation Hill—we geologists did not strain our consciences much by assuring them that they were gems! As a matter of fact, I once wore an augite as a stud; but it would only appeal to a geologist. However, Birdie and Cherry spent several hours crawling up the slopes of the hill. The augites took much finding, for they were rarely half an inch long. “Dry-blowing” and scraping in the snow and ashy rock with frozen fingers and colder toes was the method of work. Some of the specimens picked out of a red tuff showed very pretty crystal faces. But the mineral is nearly black and rather brittle, so that their value is purely scientific.

One morning we were promised a new dish of “whales on toast” by the indefatigable chefs. These were biscuits fried in butter and crowned with two sardines. Unfortunately they all got burnt, and the many requests for biscuits _au naturel_ disconcerted Birdie! In the evening Evans and Wright laboured long at a dish which they finally labelled “glue” in disgust, though they had hoped it would turn out a stew. So Meares enlivened the gloom by a yarn. “A man went into a shop in our town and took off an article on approval. Unfortunately he left no name. The assistant said, ‘Whom shall we charge it to?’ The proprietor said, ‘Put it down on every one’s bill, and we’ll soon find out who didn’t take it.’” Meares stopped, and we asked, “Well, how did it work?” “Oh, the last I heard, forty of them had paid for it!”

On the 7th, Scott asked if any one wanted a walk round the sea-ice to Castle Rock. Atkinson and I volunteered, and we got on our crampons and _steig-eisen_, and I took an ice-axe. We went down to the sea-ice over the ice cliff, using the old hawser left there in 1903. The ice was about four and a half inches thick, and Scott tested its bearing strength by the simple method of jumping on it hard. It bent considerably, and water gurgled up through the holes, but this new ice is fairly tough.

The surface was mottled, due to its being largely composed of cemented pancake ice. The ice was mushy, and overriding was very common. Occasional retreats and breaks led to leads of open water. Scott pointed out to us where Vince was lost in 1903 on the icy slopes to the south of Castle Rock. We discussed what a man should do if he fell into the sea and was rescued, and Scott said the only thing was to keep on the move.

Testing the sea-ice off Castle Rock, April 7, 1911. Atkinson, Scott,
and Taylor.
]

We crossed several “leads” of black ice, which I tested first with the ice-axe. “I chipped at the next and saw that the ice was more than an inch thick, so I boldly ambled across. I made a long step and one leg gaily went through and the other followed, but I hung by my arms fairly comfortably. Luckily I had an ice-axe. Atkinson stretched out his ski-stick, but I drove the pick in and pulled over to the further firm ice and managed to slide out, while Scott was getting over further to the north. The water was not cold, and I didn’t feel excited at all. I went in up to the armpits and was dripping, but only my toes were cold. Scott said he was just going to tell me not to try there; and I told him the practical experience should balance the foolishness!” Cherry returned with me to the Hut about two miles south. Luckily there was no wind, or twenty-four degrees of frost would have been serious. My notebook was well inside my wind clothes, and the chronometer was not hurt at all.

That evening there was a strong blizzard, and every vestige of ice blew out to the Ross Sea. It was lucky that the wind did not spring up six hours later, for Scott had decided to start off this very morning for Cape Evans _viâ_ the sea-ice. As a result he determined to try a land route along the promontory to Hutton Cliffs, and so reach sea-ice where it was more land-locked and protected by Glacier Tongue.

Gran and I went off to Castle Rock to see what the ice looked like in the bays to the north. We arrived at the base of this 200 feet crag about 1 p.m., and decided to climb it. Gran was wearing boots and so could get a grip, but I had on fur finnesko and found it a tough job. In fact, Gran had to spread-eagle himself on the face of the cliff, and I got up by climbing up him, like a human ladder.

This old landmark is 1340 feet high, and is built up of volcanic agglomerate. There is an almost sheer drop of 1200 feet on the west; but the top is nearly flat and offers a fine view. I could see a little patch of sea-ice in the bay near Hutton Cliffs, but north of Glacier Tongue the sun was in our eyes and we could not see if ice or water lay between the Tongue and Cape Evans.

OVER THE HUTTON CLIFFS TO TEST THE SEA-ICE.

From a drawing by D. Low.
]

On the 11th of April nine of us started for our own headquarters, leaving Wilson in charge of a party to bring over the dogs and two ponies. [The track is shown on the map, p. 88.]

“The ‘relics’ helped us up the two snow slopes. Birdie and Bill arranged signals with fireballs at 10 p.m. on the first clear night in the next three. Dr. Bill had an understanding with Scott that he should not move with the ponies and dogs until the sea-ice had stood a blizzard. We passed Castle Rock and were going strong at noon. I had been leading, giving Scott my shoulder, but here he shortened my rope and I pulled just behind him. Beyond Castle Rock all the land is untraversed. We kept for one mile along a steep snow slope, seeing no crevasses, and easily reached the flat top of the promontory. After about four miles we approached Hutton Cliffs and could see patches of blue ice on the slopes ahead. Soon we met some crevasses, and both of us fell into small ones. We got to a ridge of boulders which showed where we were to get down to the bay ice, if anywhere.

“Quite suddenly it began to drift heavily from the south, and we had to put up the tents and camp. We had some tea and then prospected for a route to the cliff edge. There were huge crevasses zigzagging across the blue ice below us, but when the drift stopped we found a good track and soon reached the cliff edge. Here it was thirty feet high with snow whirling over on to the bay ice. Further south it was a little lower, and here Scott lowered me on to some fallen blocks on the sea-ice. Then Evans, Wright, and Bowers followed, and we guided the sledge down, fully loaded, without difficulty. Two bamboos were stuck in and the rope passed round. Crean arranged this, and Scott came last, being lowered from below.

“We left the Hutton Cliffs about 5 p.m. and pulled north over two miles of soft sea-ice to Glacier Tongue. We anticipated trouble climbing the Tongue, but found a spot where its edge was only ten feet high. Evans and I were lifted up, and in ten minutes both sledges and men were on the Tongue. It was good fun crossing the Tongue, for there were numerous crevasses to jump, none of which was particularly risky, though Evans fell into one. We camped on the north side about 6.45. It was pretty dark, but after some tea Scott decided to push on for the remaining five miles.

“We had to steer across the bay ice by observing a star, for it began to grow thick near the surface. I tested the ice with my axe fairly frequently. We pulled all we knew, for occasionally our only beacon (the star) was almost obscured. About 10 p.m. a black patch showed up, which we guessed must be Little Razorback Island. Here Scott decided to camp. We had a difficult job gathering mushy ice to weigh the tent-flaps, but all turned in on the wet ice before midnight.”

The two tents on the ice-shelf at Little Razorback Isle, April 12,
1911 (looking south).
]

I don’t think many of us enjoyed the situation. We were camped on new ice and had not the faintest idea how far off the open water lay, and we had practically no food with us. Next morning, before it was properly light, a blizzard came up to add to our discomfort. We could not see Cape Evans or tell whether there was ice or sea in the intervening two miles.

I climbed up the Razorback, cutting steps up the soft ashy rock with my bowie knife. Bowers and I explored an ice-ledge on the south side of this little islet. On reporting to Scott he inspected it, and in the afternoon we shifted camp up on to the ledge, whence we could not drift out to sea if the blizzard increased.

“I snoozed about an hour during the night, pulled the flaps of my bag tight, and apart from frozen toes—partly owing to my home-made sealskin finnesko being too tight—and shivers in the back, and the soppy nature of all my clothing, I was pretty comfortable!

“We roused at 7 a.m., and I had to wait half an hour before my fur mits thawed out enough to be wearable. We finished up our pemmican and biscuits. Birdie was cook, and as usual took too little for himself, and made a fuss about filling up his own pot.

“We packed up at 8.15, and found that the wind helped us materially. The ice seemed firmer here, and near Inaccessible Island we crossed tracks and a silk line, evidently due to Simpson’s balloon experiments. We rounded Cape Evans and saw the open water less than a mile off, so that we were pretty close to it at Razorback.

“Another hundred yards and we saw the hut with two men moving about. We went on silently (by order), and saw Lashley stand up, look our way and stand rigid. Then he spoke to Anton (who phlegmatically took no notice) and bolted into the hut. Soon they came streaming out in all sorts of overcoats, etc., Demetri and Lashley leading, Day next, Ponting, Anton, Simpson, and Hooper!”

Nelson was asleep, and Clissold too interested in some cooking!

We learnt that all had gone well except that one pony (Hackenschmidt) had died of inanition and a bullet!

We pulled on, and Birdie fell into the broad tide crack. I got across safely with the ice-axe and so to the hut.

I noticed the fine door-knobs, and the wooden number on our front door. The kitchen looked O.K. with bright tins and acetylene lighting, and all else was much about the same.

_Postscript_ (that evening).

“Here am I in the hut, using my fountain-pen again after twelve weeks without refilling—only it’s made a blob! It is midnight and I lie in my bunk. ‘Marie’ Nelson is taking meteorological readings, and remarks that the Skua Gull (_i.e._ G.T.) has resumed his predatory habits. The others are sleeping except Ponting, from whom I got my candle. But everything feels too warm and clean for sleep! Clocks are ticking everywhere!”

V
IN WINTER QUARTERS WITH CAPTAIN SCOTT

APRIL–NOVEMBER, 1911

Plan of hut, 1911, showing nicknames and bunks of Explorers.
]

IN WINTER QUARTERS WITH CAPTAIN SCOTT

After our return from the summer’s sledging a new phase of Antarctic life began. For the next seven months we were practically confined to Cape Evans, and often to the hut itself.

During our “habitation enforced” it was rare for any man to be addressed by the name inherited from his parents or chosen by his godfathers and godmothers! The nicknames of the fifteen of the afterguard had by this time become standardized, and I think merit a little attention.

Captain Scott was invariably known as _The Owner_, a naval term always applied to the captain of a warship. Dr. Wilson (baptized Edward Adrian) was always known as _Bill_. _Doctor Bill_ at first, _Uncle Bill_ later, as one grew to rely on him more and more. Lieutenant Evans had four pre-initials, but was always called _Teddy_, which eminently suited his cheery frame of mind. Dr. Simpson was early caricatured as _Sunny Jim_ by Lillie, and soon every one, including our leader, called him nothing else. Captain Oates was _Titus_ to all of us, except to Bowers, who called him _Farmer Hayseed_, while Captain Scott usually referred to him as _Soldier_. Ponting was _Ponko_, and his chief aim in life (to get us to pose for him in all sorts of uncomfortable places) is perpetuated in the verb “to pont.” Nelson was _Bronte_ naturally, and more obscurely _Marie_ from some theatrical star met with in his varied career. Bowers was _Birdie_, from his outstanding features and Titian crest. Atkinson was shortened to _Atch_, or at times _Jane_. We were short of female society—which lack also accounts for _Jessie_ Debenham as an alternative to _Deb_. Cherry-Garrard was always _Cherry_—though an affectionate variation was _Cheery Blackguard_, while the seamen—baulking at the hyphen—called him Mr. Gerard! Our Canadian Imperialist, Charles Wright, bore with equanimity the name of _Cousin Silas_, though perhaps _Carolus_ and _Tranter_ (_Toronto_) were more to his taste. _Bernardo_ Day and _Trigger_ (Tryggve) Gran were less remarkable ekenames. I gave up counting my own. _McCormick_ (Skua—alluding to the rapid disappearance of some apricots), _Keir-Hardy_, _Sharn-Gatch_, and _Old Griff_ were but a few.

Before we had time to change into semi-civilized garb the indefatigable Ponting had us outside to “pont” for him. Luckily there were no melting icicles available, and he was content to get us standing near the sledges. Some of the others had already shaved off their beards, much to Ponting’s disgust; but mine was so rudely criticised that I kept it most of the winter to show _my_ opinion of it! I assisted Ponting to the best of my ability by adding a touch of verisimilitude to Debenham’s photograph, and threw some snow at him at the critical moment; but most of us looked such pirates, that there was no need for any further touch of Antarctica about us.

I spent the day sorting gear, “... and about 1 p.m. I had a gorgeous bath—the first for three months. Funny thing, no effect from no wash, no change, no hair brush, etc.”

I suppose the cold accounts for no ill consequences, but I have ever since felt more sympathy for the Southern European peasants, for their ablutions are equally simple; they also do without a lot of impedimenta, and are equally healthy!

Ponting took his plates off to the dark room, and submitted proofs next day! “Debenham says he looks just like an aboriginal—and far be it from me to contradict him.” Captain Scott and Seaman Evans seemed to develop an Irish appearance, while I scorn to repeat the comments on my portrait.

On Sunday afternoon I had a stroll with Nelson, who told me how the nine at the hut had spent the time. Dr. Simpson was in charge, and had converted the newly built hut into a palace of mystery. In his corner to the south-east a small Gardiner oil-engine was clacking away. This was used primarily, in conjunction with a dynamo, to charge accumulators for his electrical recording instruments. Mysterious clicks and gasps and ticking galore warned us that chronographs and other wild fowl, to be described later, were brooding over meteorology yet _in ovo_. Ponting had “raked in every little bit” available, including some magnificent studies of surf breaking on the ice-foot. Day and Nelson roused our envious admiration chiefly by the condition of their common cubicle. No old beams from the stable framed their bunks! They were supported by carved and polished standards, encased in veneer (of venesta casing); and below were some fine specimens of joinery in the shape of two capacious drawers!

_Photo by H. G. Ponting._]

CAPTAIN SCOTT WEARING THE WALLET IN WHICH HE CARRIED HIS SLEDGING
JOURNALS.
]

Day had equipped the hut with acetylene. The generator occupied a corner of the enclosed porch, where one could hear it gurgling as one entered the hut. If the outer door were not shut properly the fact was made evident by the dimming of the light! For the water in the generator soon froze if a blast of −40° struck it from the outer darkness. We were prohibited from carrying candles through the porch into the verandah storeroom for fear of explosion.

Nelson and I initiated the survey of Cape Evans on that stroll. The lakes had diminished greatly; not by ordinary evaporation, but through the removal of ice particles by the process of ablation. The margin of the lake ice was fringed by “blobs” of ice united into a lacework, and day by day one could see this fringe vanishing. It was curious that the small animalcule (_Flagellata_, etc.) should in some cases belong to the same genera as in English ponds!

Cape Evans is a low promontory of triangular shape. Its average height is only about twenty-five feet above the sea, though Windvane Hill rises to sixty-five feet. The southwestern portion consists of rocky ridges of kenyte with steep cliffs adjoining the sea, but to the north-east is a gravelly plain surrounding Skua Lake. Quite abruptly on the east and about half a mile from the western extremity, rises a steep bank of gravel (the Ramp) to a height of 150 feet. A few hundred yards of slope studded with quaint cones of rubble brought one to the edge of the great sheet of glacier ice which covers the whole western side of Mount Erebus. This was our domain, and to this cape we were practically confined during the ensuing six months (see Map No. 4).

Patches of ice covered portions of the cape, but the rest of the surface consisted for the most part of kenyte gravel with ridges and bosses of solid lava (kenyte) projecting through it, especially to the south-west. These dark lavas undoubtedly represented an earlier offshoot from the volcano of Erebus, probably a subterranean flow; while careful mapping later on showed us that the little sheets of ice were not haphazard, but were “glacierets” fed by blizzard snowdrifts.

The most ingenious apparatus in the hut was due to Clissold the cook. This was an electrical device to tell him when the “bread was riz.” He used to make the dough in the galley and place it in a big pot, puncheon, or pan. This was supported on a little trolley and stood at his bedside. The dough mixed, Clissold turned into bed, and left the rest to the yeast cells.

When the dough rose sufficiently it pushed up a disc which overbalanced a gutter. Down this ran a lead ball which made contact and rang a bell! Further, the bell actuated a pulley and wire and made another contact whereby a red light appeared at intervals above his head! All this apparatus was made in the hut, and we never found out where certain of the “works” were hidden. Anyhow the bread was very satisfactory.

On the 17th April Scott took a party back by the same route to the Discovery Hut. Scott, Bowers, and Crean returned there, accompanied by Day, Nelson, Lashley, Hooper, and Demetri. Debenham and I went in charge of two ponies who were to pull the sledges as far as possible.

There was a fine moon, so that it was quite light at 8.15 a.m. We crossed several cracks, and I tested the ice with an axe. A moderate wind was blowing from the north—always a safe direction, for the blizzards invariably came from the south. The surface had improved greatly in the last few days, and the ponies had no difficulty in pulling along at about four miles an hour.

Erebus was clouded, but occasionally we could see a red glow when the mists dispersed. Rarely was there so much sign of _heat_ visible, though the steam banner often spread out a hundred miles.

Changes in wind direction, March 17, 1911.
]

Opposite Turk’s Head (six miles south) the wind changed to a west breeze and then lulled, but a little further, near Glacier Tongue, there was quite a strong southerly, and we could see the drift sweeping over the promontory above Hutton Cliffs.

Here Scott sent the ponies back in our charge. The others marched on, and had a cold, rough time reaching the Discovery Hut. Their difficulties in climbing the ice rampart at Hutton Cliffs in the teeth of a smart blizzard is well shown in one of Dr. Bill’s sketches in the _South Polar Times_.

A small villa had been erected in our absence, to carry the magnetometers. This was built of asbestos or similar material, and held together by brass nails. It also formed a _camera obscura_ for meteorological purposes. A lens in the roof projects the clouds on to a sheet of squared paper. This sheet is rotated until the clouds appear to move along a set of lines, and by comparing this with a compass the direction of their movement is obtained accurately and quickly.

That evening I helped to festoon the hut with telephone wires. While so engaged I saw my first aurora, and it did not impress me. “Like a huge broad cirrus cloud right across the sky from W.N.W. to E.S.E. No colour or movement, and it only lasted five minutes.”

A sketch showing the balloon unwinding the black silk threads from the
two conical reels.
]

Wright and I assisted Simpson to send up a _ballon sonde_. This seemed a complicated business at first. We had to carry out a queer theodolite with the eyepiece inserted at right angles to the telescope at the side; and a large tank for generating the hydrogen; and the inner tube of a bicycle tyre—and various reels of silk, etc., etc.; not to mention a small tissue-like deflated balloon of red gutta-percha.

The tank was filled from a convenient tide crack in the sea-ice, and then Charles filled the cycle-tube with calcium hydride. This compound is analogous to carbide, but gives off hydrogen instead of acetylene. He attached it to the top of the generator, and squeezed it to push the lumps of hydride into the water. The balloon was attached to an outlet pipe, and gradually lost its dejected appearance and became a red sphere of some two feet diameter.

In about ten minutes the balloon was inflated. This was merely a test, and after tying a piece of silver paper on the balloon it was set free and rose rapidly. With the theodolite the vertical and horizontal angles could be plotted, and thus the path of the balloon charted approximately.

The sun was setting (at 3 p.m.) while we were doing this, and gave a yellow glow to the steam-cloud on Erebus, which was drifting to the south-east. When the balloon was about 4000 feet up we could follow the flashing paper, and saw that here the air currents were opposed to the direction of the steam-cloud at 13,000 feet elevation.

SIMPSON SENDING UP A “BALLON SONDE,” Nov. 12, 1911.

The meteorograph stands on the box. Inside the latter are the two
conical reels of silk. In the background is the magnetic hut, the
Grotto Glacier and Vane Hill.
]

THE EAST CORNER OF THE HUT SHOWING THE EDDY TRENCH SCOOPED OUT BY
BLIZZARDS ON THE WINDWARD SIDE OF THE HUT, SEPT. 14, 1911.

The stores annexe appears just on Clissold’s right, and the “weather
cupboard” on the right of the picture.
]

The next afternoon there was a furious blizzard of fifty miles an hour, and a temperature of −7°. We kept to the hut, and made a start at winter occupations. I was busy writing a narrative of the western journey for Captain Scott. In this I proposed to discuss the physiography in some detail. When I had written twenty pages on the _first_ day and a half, I wondered if the “Owner” would live through a report 840 pages long! Luckily the rule of three responsible for this forecast did not hold throughout!

Inside the hut the temperature was +47°. This was not exactly hot, and poor Ponting was delighted when some of the new-comers advocated lighting the small stove near his dark room. He said that developing photographs with water down to 47° was not the pleasantest job on earth. The blizzards hit his side of the hut, so that the inside of the dark room was festooned with icicles, giving it a most picturesque but uncomfortable appearance.

Things were getting straight in our cubicle. Our floor space was about eight feet by eight. We built a small table opposite the door and put shelves over this. Gran occupied a bunk over mine, and the legs of his wire bedstead hung over my head and feet, and caused many bruises at first. Debenham’s bunk was raised six feet off the ground, and was supported on two stout wooden cylinders, on which the linoleum had been rolled. He climbed into it by a primitive ladder. His sea-chest was under the table, while mine half blocked the doorway.

On the rubbish-heap outside I found a small tin which served as my wash-basin. In this I kept a sponge, and normally it stood on my chest below Debenham’s bunk. We were able to get about half a tea-cup of water if we found the cook in a good humour, so that it was rather a dry rub.

Secretly I was rather proud of my morning wash, but it did not seem to improve my appearance. I soon discovered the reason. Watching Debenham one morning before I arose, I saw him finish his ante-breakfast pipe and casually knock it on the edge of his bunk. The ash obeyed the laws of gravity, and fell into my sponge with great accuracy, and as if it were accustomed to do so!

When the chest was thereafter freed from my ablutions, it was seized by Debenham as a petrological laboratory. For hours he might be observed rubbing down fragments of rocks on a glass plate with carborundum powder.

He had a microscope, and was able to examine the many thin sections thus produced without awaiting his return to civilization. It is most interesting to see a dark rock gradually becoming transparent as the section gets thinner. First the quartz and felspar show up like clear and milky glass respectively. Then the green or brown colours of the mica hornblende or augite appear, while the characteristic green fringes to the clear olivine crystals or the absolute opacity of magnetite define those minerals. And then under the polarized light of the microscope even the colourless minerals show wonderful colours—from the pale greys and yellows of quartz and felspar to the vivid blue and purple of the olivine and pink and neutral tints of white mica.

Thus Debenham classified the numerous rocks from the western mountains. _Kenytes_ rich in lozenge crystals of a beautifully banded felspar; _granites_ showing brown cleaved crystals of hornblende and mica among the quartz grains and simple felspars; _basalts_ with numerous crystals of olivine and magnetite in a felted mass of little felspar laths—gneisses, granulites, etc., etc., each and all can be pigeon-holed by picking out the relative proportions of the few minerals specified above.