Chapter VI: Making Winter Quarters at Cape Evans (10)

On the 17th Debenham and I went over to Shackleton’s hut to spend a
few days geologizing. We took a small sledge with about 100 lbs. load.
Soon we came to patches of bare sea-ice just leprous with blobs of
salty snow. I was chagrined to find we could hardly drag our light
sledge across. It augured badly for the 1200 lbs. we should have to
pull in a week or so! We saw Emperor penguin tracks, but no birds, and
reached the hut at 1 p.m. We ate some biscuits and then went out to
photograph the vicinity. Here the Erebus glacier is about three miles
to the east, so that Cape Royds is a very much larger area of exposed
rock than Cape Evans. We walked along Black Sand Beach—almost the only
beach I saw with rolled pebbles—and passed below quite a large glacier
emerging from a gully. It had a 30-foot face of banded ice with fine
snow cornices. I was surprised to see this, and climbed up to
determine what was its source of supply. Then I found it was “all
face” and no background. It was in fact merely a gigantic snowdrift
plastered on the face of a 50-foot rock-cliff, and proved that many of
our smaller glaciers were nothing but case-hardened snowdrifts which
had solidified _in situ_.

We returned to Shackleton’s hut, and I had a varied lunch off mock
turtle soup, mutton cutlets, and unlimited candied peel! We cleared up
the hut, which was in an awful mess, Deb arranging the stores and
mending the stove, while I swept up the floor.

“We made up a bit of fire with some coal we found in one corner and
turned into our bags. All next day it blew frightfully hard. There was
a huge iron boiler which we gradually thawed out and used for water,
but we used an enamel jug as a kettle. We made porridge and ate it
from huge wooden spoons. I read ‘The Truants’ (Mason) and half the
‘Botor Chaperon’ (Williamson). The hut groaned and creaked so that I
thought it would blow in sunder, but we were comfortable enough. We
hunted up some hypo, a large lamp, and 50 lbs. of carbide. I found a
useable pair of fingered gloves, which were just what I wanted for
instrument work.”

Next morning it was blowing hard, but there was less drift. We went
out to try a photo, and the blizzard blew my camera down and smashed
the frame. After lunch it “let up” somewhat, and we set off for Cape
Evans. We saw an Emperor penguin crouched behind a snowdrift. It was
the first of the season, and Debenham was anxious to get a photo. He
stalked the penguin with great care, to my secret glee, for I had
noticed before that it was stone dead!

Next day I packed my ditty bag with personal gear for the summer
journey. We were allowed 12 lbs. each. My choice was as follows:—

3 pairs _socks_, with Taylor’s patent heel-tips!
1 hat.
1 pair finger gloves.
1 diary, 1 Browning, 1 German grammar.

This totalled 7 lbs., and I decided to omit spare underclothing and
take a small eiderdown weighing 4½ lbs. It struck me that it would be
as comforting as Debenham’s 3 lbs. of tobacco, and last longer!

“In the afternoon we ‘ponted’ for a game of football for the
cinematograph. It was awfully good fun. The Owner was centre forward
(running to the north), and he arranged that his side should win, to
ensure an exciting picture! Atkinson was given space for a fine run
in. Unfortunately in trying to cleverly miss a collar I slipped, and
he fell over my feet. Titus was a sight, waddling after a man and then
falling flat. Half the people got confused with the Owner’s yells to
‘Keep the ball in the middle and up to the goal,’ so that many of our
side kicked it to their own goal! Crean truculently swore no one
should get a goal if he could help it, and spoilt all Atkinson’s
efforts, so that they scored nothing! Unfortunately Debenham strained
his knee defending goal, and has been on his back since. We shall
start west with Forde’s right arm useless and Debenham’s leg crocked!”

On the 21st Scott gave me my sledging orders. The method of our relief
by the ship seemed rather comic. We were first of all to find Granite
Harbour and then recognize a 500-foot bluff, photographed on page 154
in “The Voyage of the _Discovery_.” Here we were to await Captain
Pennell in mid-January. No one on the ship had seen Granite Harbour
either. As will be seen later, the harbour was a dozen miles wrong
longitude, and the only bluff which at all resembled the picture was
1650 high! We rendezvoused there as required, but our letters and flag
on the bluff remain undisturbed to this day!

Gran accompanied me for a walk two miles west to the great shear
crack, and there we spent some hours with pick and shovel cutting a
path through the upturned blocks of sea-ice, here 5 feet high.

Day started the motor sledges on the 23rd October. The motor party
consisted of Evans and Lashley with one motor sledge, and Day and
Hooper with the other. There was a fearful array of cameras carried by
Scott, Gran, Wright, and myself, while Ponting had a regular battery
(including a cinematograph) loaded on his “pantechnicon”! Two troubles
hampered the motors. The “pattens,” or wooden soles on the two tractor
belts, would not grip the surface unless it consisted of hard snow.
Just off the Cape was a belt of smooth sea-ice with a thin layer of
snow over it, and the belts churned rapidly over this without moving
the sledge forward. They got them past this by laying down sacks, etc.
Then the motors were air-cooled, and apparently this was not
sufficient to keep the cylinders from overheating, especially as the
sledges went much slower than the ordinary motor car, and so only a
small current of cold air flowed past the two front cylinders and less
past the two rear cylinders. Moreover, the carburettor would not work
satisfactorily when the engine was down to Antarctic temperatures, and
it was necessary to warm it with a blow lamp! After some delays and
readjustments they got the sledges well under weigh to Big Razorback
Island.

Nelson, Wright, and I decided to traverse the Barne Glacier (to the
north) and align the stakes which Nelson had planted in the preceding
February. We hoped to detect enough movement to give us the velocity
of the glacier.

The new canvas overshoes, with spiked aluminium soles, were a godsend
for slippery ice work, and we found them a wonderful help. Wright went
first, carrying a theodolite; then Nelson, with the food, and I had my
camera and an ice-axe. We were roped up, for we had to cross many
small crevasses. The stakes were generally made of barrel staves, and
only half of them had withstood the winter.

BERNARD DAY ON THE MOTOR SLEDGE JUST BEFORE HE STARTED FOR THE SOUTH,
OCT. 23, 1911.

The engine is enclosed in a box to keep it warm, and the blow lamp was
to start the carburettor.
]

THE START OF THE MOTOR SLEDGES, OCT., 1911.

Notice Evans swinging round the sledge and Day’s flag. To the left is
Ponting being towed as he cinematographs.
]

We soon reached the “nail-stake,” which showed the safe western route
to Shackleton’s Hut. The stakes here turned to the north and crossed a
wide gully, and then climbed up a steep shoulder with open crevasses,
which we had to negotiate by jumping. We reached the fixed moraines,
and while Wright set up the theodolite (and anathematized his frozen
fingers!) we discussed hot cocoa from a Thermos flask, and biscuits
and chocolate. The end stakes did not appear to have moved much, but
as we marched back on their line we found very perceptible evidence of
movement to the west. Fourteen inches at first, then 7, 12, 14, 15,
15, 22, and 16 feet respectively, till we again reached the
“nail-stake.” It was rather difficult aligning the stakes, owing to
the crevasses, but though some were ten feet wide they were all open
and so perfectly obvious and safe. “Nelson slipped in his felt boots,
but we could have walked up an ice wall in our new spiked crampons!”

The largest movement was in the ice valley, and though the maximum 22
feet was not certain, yet there was no doubt about the record of 15
feet. This was not nearly so much as recorded elsewhere for other
Antarctic glaciers; but it must be remembered that only the ten
_coldest_ months were involved in this test.

Ice crampons, devised in the winter 1911.
]

On the 26th Captain Scott took two parties to see if he could assist
the motor party, who seemed to be held up near Glacier Tongue. We saw
no trace of them till near the Tongue. Here we saw a black object,
which, however, turned out to be a seal scratching himself, though I
had felt able to recognize a motor and its driver!

We took a long time to catch them, which pleased us greatly, for it
meant they were doing better than we had anticipated, but we caught
them at Danger Cliffs. “They had just done six miles and were very
bucked in consequence.”

We were of some assistance in the next few miles. We would drag the
three huge trailer-sledges forward so as to relieve the motor sledge
at its first plunge. Then “she’d start with a jerk, Day sitting for
the moment in the chair of state and kicking up the floorboard to work
the levers. Then she’d stop; then we’d curse. He would light up the
petrol lamp round the carburettor to warm her, and try various
alterations to an undercurrent of our fervid remarks. Then she’d go
harder than we could walk for seven minutes. We got hot again, and
would then have to wait a quarter of an hour, stamping round and
freezing off, till she was affable once more.”

We slept at the 1902 Hut, and Meares and Bowers gave us a grand seal
hoosh next morning, cooked on the greatly improved blubber stove.

“Lashley’s motor got under weigh after twenty minutes with the blow
lamp on the carburettor, but Day’s was mulish. Gran, Evans, and I
waited with him.” The huge loads dragged were mostly oil and tent
gear, but their food-transporting power increases as the fuel load is
used up. “However, as the day grew the motor took heart of grace and
started, doing half-mile bursts, and at 12.45 we foregathered below
the Barrier edge. Lashley would have been up an hour earlier, but he
ran out of lubricant.” Unfortunately being on different gears they
couldn’t keep together readily. “I walked up on to the Barrier very
near where we crossed the big crack on March 12th. There was a
beautiful snow ramp up the twelve feet above the sea-ice.

“At 1 p.m. Day moved on to tackle this. We all pushed behind, though
it was not a bit necessary. She went up in great style, though I think
most of us had dreaded this test considerably. At 1.5 the first motor
stood on the great Barrier. Lashley’s then ran up quite easily, and
after cheering them we streaked back to the 1902 Hut for lunch. Scott
and Wilson ran two miles of the distance; Bowers and I walked on
together until Crean and Evans passed us. I joined them, but gave them
best ultimately, for they were both powerful pacemakers.”

We hit off for Cape Evans after lunch at a hot pace and didn’t stop
for eight miles, when we had tea off Razorback. “All around us were
seals and their young. The latter are longer in proportion, and are
lighter in colour and woollier. The mothers make a noise like a
dyspeptic sheep, and one big beggar _would_ nose around the sledges
until the Owner drove her away. Bill went off to get a dead young one
he espied, and found it alive, but frozen fast by its umbilical cord!
He freed it and left it, but Nelson saw the little idiot frozen again
two days later.”

On the 28th Wilson examined the three Emperor penguin eggs obtained at
such peril in July. To his delight they showed three different stages
in development, and were much more developed than he expected. The
embryos were rather long, but very like fledgling sparrows. There were
little tufts on the tail already, and their long, flapper-like wings
were not a bit bird-like. The shells were very thick and about the
diameter of a swan’s, but somewhat elongated. They were light buff
outside and bluish inside. Bill said only about fifteen shells had
been obtained, and no embryos.

Household duties have been somewhat disorganized. I have laid and
cleared the tables, while Atkinson has been chief cook. He succeeded
splendidly for the most part. “He made excellent coffee; Deb tasted
first cup, and nearly died, for it was pure cayenne!”

Erebus gave us a fine demonstration from 9 to 9.30 on the 30th of
October. The steam cloud rose like a huge mushroom at first, then was
branched like a yew-tree, and ultimately settled down into a huge
pall.

On the 31st October the pony parties started. Two weak ponies led by
Atkinson and Crean were sent off first at 4.30, and I accompanied them
for about a mile. Crean’s pony rejoiced in the name of “Jimmy Pig,”
and he stepped out much better than his fleeter-named mate Jehu. We
heard through the telephone of their safe arrival at Hut Point.

Next morning the Southern Party finished their mail, posting it in the
packing case on Atkinson’s bunk, and then at 11 a.m. the last party
were ready for the Pole. They had packed the sledges overnight, and
they took 20 lbs. personal baggage. The Owner had asked me what book
he should take. He wanted something fairly “filling.” I recommended
Tyndall’s Glaciers—if he wouldn’t find it “coolish.” He didn’t fancy
this! So then I said, “Why not take Browning, as I’m doing?” And I
believe that he did so.

Wright’s pony was the first harnessed to its sledge. “Chinaman” is
Jehu’s rival for last place, and as some compensation is easy to
harness. Seaman Evans led “Snatcher,” who used to rush ahead and take
the lead as soon as he was harnessed. Cherry had “Michael,” a steady
goer, and Wilson led “Nobby”—the pony rescued from the killer-whales
in March. Scott led out “Snippets” to the sledges, and harnessed him
to the foremost, with little Anton’s help—only it turned out to be
Bowers’ sledge! However he transferred in a few minutes and marched
off rapidly to the south. “’Christopher,’ as usual, behaved like a
demon. First they had to trice his front leg up tight under his
shoulder, then it took five minutes to throw him. The sledge was
brought up and he was harnessed in while his head was held down on the
floe. Finally he rose up, still on three legs, and started off
galloping as well as he was able. After several violent kicks his
foreleg was released, and after more watch-spring flicks with his hind
legs he set off fairly steadily. Titus can’t stop him when once he has
started, and will have to do the fifteen miles in one lap probably!”

Dear old Titus—that was my last memory of him. Imperturbable as ever;
never hasty, never angry, but soothing that vicious animal, and
determined to get the best out of most unpromising material in his
endeavour to do his simple duty.

Bowers was last to leave. His pony, Victor, nervous but not vicious,
was soon in the traces. I ran to the end of the Cape and watched the
little cavalcade—already strung out into remote units—rapidly fade
into the lonely white waste to southward.

That evening I had a chat with Wilson over the telephone from the
Discovery Hut—my last communication with those five gallant spirits.

We settled down in the Hut, a small and rather silent party. I was now
awaiting Debenham’s recovery from the injury to his knee, for our
start was already overdue. Nelson was cook, though Clissold was
beginning to move about more easily. As lately, I continued to lay and
clear the table, while Simpson was coal-whacker. The night-watch was
now unnecessary—it was too light for auroræ—and the ponies no longer
inhabited the stable. Nelson used to take the 4 a.m. observations, and
Simpson those at midnight.

On the 2nd of November we had some stove trials in the deserted
stables. Day’s last work had been to make us a blubber stove from
sheet iron, with a door grid and cover complete. We lengthened the
chimney (by adding asparagus tins) and then tested it. The cooker was
filled with snow, a “fid” of blubber lit on the grid, and in
twenty-seven minutes the water was boiling! There was very little
smoke, and it gave a pleasant heat all the time. Later we found that
it did not work so well in a draught, and was a trouble in the open;
but we cooked most of our meals on it in December and January, as will
appear.

WILSON PACKING HIS PONY SLEDGE THE DAY BEFORE THE START FOR THE POLE,
OCT. 31, 1911.

The tins of oil, Alpine rope, large biscuit tins, sleeping-bag and
tent poles show up well. Behind is the outer door of the hut looking
north to the Barne Glacier.
]

THE HUT AFTER THE WINTER, NOV. 20, 1911.

Great snowdrifts cover the porch and all the gravel before the hut. At
the back is the Ramp, and low-level stratus is enveloping the base
of Erebus.

[See p. 320.
]

That evening I had a walk round High Cliff and found a regular
“Niagara” rushing down the face of the glacier in a tinkling stream as
much as an inch deep! This was at midnight on the 2nd of November, and
the temperature was seventeen degrees below freezing! It shows the
strong radiant effect of the sun on black rocks even at midnight.

This event—marking the oncoming of reasonable weather—closed our
sojourn at winter quarters during 1911.

VI
THE GRANITE HARBOUR EXPEDITION
SECOND WESTERN EXPEDITION

NOVEMBER 1911–FEBRUARY 1912

RELIEF MODEL OF THE REGION TRAVERSED IN THE SECOND SUMMER.

C.B. = Cape Bernacchi. Mt. G. = Mount Gran. G. = Gondola Ridge. C.R. =
Cape Roberts. D. = Cape Dunlop. N. = Nussbaum Riegel (across Taylor
Valley).
]

THE GRANITE HARBOUR EXPEDITION

(_Vide_ large folding map at end.)

During the winter the four members of the western party often used to
gaze to the north-west across McMurdo Sound and wonder what adventures
we should meet in the coming summer. We could make out the hills
behind Cape Bernacchi fairly well, some fifty miles off; but beyond
that was a greyish mass of land which, north of our horizon, was
broken by the large inlet of Granite Harbour just about latitude 77°.
We read up what little was known of it, and Wilson told us his
memories—of a sort of bluff-ended peninsula where we could reach
_terra firma_, of ice-falls filled with crevasses, and not very
promising as a route to the interior.

We expected to get away by October 22nd, but Debenham, as has been
told, injured his knee a day or two before, and spent most of the next
three weeks in his bunk trying to reduce the inflammation sufficiently
for him to walk.

The western party were unfortunate in having another cripple. Forde’s
right hand was still in bandages from his severe frostbites, but they
were progressing favourably, and though he never was able to use it
for delicate operations, it did not handicap him greatly.

On the 5th of November we packed the sledges. Our delay had one
advantage—we needed less food, and so our load was lighter. In fact, I
don’t know how we could have managed much more than our “half ton.” I
omitted three weeks’ supplies, but packed all the remainder on to the
sledges. In the huge canvas bag—called a tank by the seamen—were put
the weekly bags of stores. Here a little pile of butter, there smaller
bags of tea, etc. A few small bags of pepper, salt, etc., were placed
in the “Ready-Bag.” This latter was a smaller canvas bag which held
just a week’s food, and was kept separate from the main “tank,” so
that the latter was only opened once a week when the cooks changed
duty.

A document which was consulted more frequently than any other which we
carried was Bowers’ list of our stores. It was headed, in a last flash
of his humorous verbosity, “The Western PHYSIPHOGEOPETROVULCANOLOGICAL
PARTY,” and gave me careful notes as to the stores at Butter Point,
and tips as to taking tin-openers, and bags for the cocoa and pemmican
tins we should find there. It got very frayed with continual use, and
this led to some anxiety later. All the items were entered like this:—

“Biscuit for 20 weeks at 24·5 lbs. = 490 lbs.” The entry for _tea_ I
read as—

“Tea for 20 weeks at 1·75 lbs.,” but it was nearly illegible, and
later, after wondering why the tea was so rapidly diminishing, I saw
that his note really read 1·75 _for ten days_ (instead of “per week”).
This was one of the most welcome discoveries on our journey, for I
thought I had lost some bags of the precious beverage, and we soon
evened matters by greater economy.

On the Sunday afternoon (5th November) Gran, Forde, and I pulled the
big sledge over the sea-ice to the west. We had very heavy work
dragging it over the snow near Cape Evans, but owing to the track we
had cut through the walls at the great shear crack we crossed this
quite easily. We came on some mirror ice, where the runners positively
flew along, but a film of snowdrift about a quarter of an inch deep
made us nearly lie down in our traces. We took the sledge about three
miles out and then returned to the hut. _En route_ our collie bitch
worried a seal almost to death, and though Gran gave her a tremendous
beating, I doubt if that even made the dogs refrain from tormenting
the helpless animals.

Perhaps they felt that the seals were fair game, as they were so much
bigger than themselves!

On Monday a blizzard came up, in which superstitious little Anton had
a wild time reaching the hut. He had left Ponting encamped at Little
Razorback, and much preferred to find his way back, rather than spend
a night among the howling demons of the Antarctic!

THE SECOND WESTERN PARTY THE DAY THEY WERE PICKED UP BY THE SHIP.

Taylor, Debenham, Gran, and Forde.
]

We had a council in the hut with Simpson and Nelson. The latter very
kindly volunteered to take Debenham’s place and help my party across
to Butter Point with most of our gear. Then we could rapidly return
and pick up Debenham if the rest had sufficiently cured his disabled
leg.

On the 7th of November we started off on our first relay. We left
about ten o’clock, taking a small sledge from the hut with our
sledging gear. We soon picked up our main load on the big sledge, and
then began really heavy work. One is always soft and out of condition
after the winter, and it takes about a week to get into sledging trim
again. It was not very cheering to find we could only get along at the
rate of about one mile an hour, for a large part of the gear to be
dragged to Granite Harbour, lay thirty miles west at Butter Point! In
fact, even with this light load, the surfaces made us relay at times,
and the effect on one’s body muscles seemed at first almost
unbearable. By lunch-time we had only left the hut about four and a
half miles behind.

It was blowing strongly from the south-east, and I saw a snowdrift
rushing along the ice. When we reached a patch of snow suitable for a
camp site, I pitched our tent, and this halt for lunch unfortunately
served for supper and breakfast also. It was blizzing hard in ten
minutes, and we were only just able to get the tent up in time. Forde
was able to help greatly, though his hand was still in a sling.

We were now no longer new chums, and it was pleasant to find that
sledging was so much more comfortable than on our first expedition. We
now realized that if we could keep out the snow, we should help the
human furnace enormously. For every snowflake in or on one’s garments,
first melted and then turned to ice, and all this had to be thawed
each night before one could get warm enough to sleep. So this trip we
carried a shilling scrubbing brush, and every one was most assiduous
in its use.

It was amusing how little trouble we had in donning our frozen boots
now. Some one had hung his on the peak of the tent, while the cooker
was going for breakfast, and now they were almost too pliant when we
needed to put them on. It was a greater comfort to have a wider
floorcloth. Now the outside men were not pushed into the snow, and our
instruments and notes were kept much more securely than on the former
journey.

As the blizzard increased it drove snow on to the windward side of the
tent, and the lee sides flapped violently so that the “stocking” door
vibrated incessantly. The snow piled higher and higher, and under the
ventilator collected a great ball of ice.

We were pretty comfortable very soon in spite of the snow, which
covered the sledges a foot deep. A rapid journey to Butter Point was
out of the question, and we turned in hoping for better weather in the
morning. The temperature was +23° as I ascertained by swinging the
sledge thermometer. My last camp in April on Little Razorback had been
in −23°, some 45° lower!

Nelson read Poe for awhile in his bag; I read Browning. We were rather
jammed together in the drifted tent, and poor Forde next morning said
he had been too crushed to sleep! For myself I had never before slept
so well at the start of a trip.

At 6 a.m. on the 8th it was still very thick to westward. However, at
7.30 we turned out for breakfast, and after digging up the sledges we
got away about 9.40. It is curious how long it took to start off every
morning. With no dressing or washing and a simple breakfast of two
pots of food, one would have expected a party to be ready in an hour;
but two hours was by no means unusual after a blizzard.

The heavy winds had compacted the snow, and also, I believe, covered
some of the sticky salty surface. At any rate, we went along better
than I had dared to hope, and could do more than a mile an hour.

I soon learnt that it was better to go a long way round rather than
cross new snow, and at lunch-time we had done over three miles. Very
stiff it made us! The sky cleared, and seemingly a short way ahead lay
Butter Point, a face of ice about 50 feet high in which small
crevasses showed quite clearly. Yet it was still 20 miles away! To the
south-west was a group of dark castles. These were the little volcanic
Dailey Isles, which were miraged up into huge squat keeps, very
different from their true conical shape.

Far to the north we could see the locale of one of the wildest
Antarctic exploits—the mighty crevasses near Mount Bird. Macintosh and
a mate managed to cross these during Shackleton’s expedition in 1908,
after abandoning their tent and losing their food in a crevasse.

How anxiously we watched the little dial of the sledge-meter. Very
slowly the miles rolled away, and when we had done four more stages I
stopped for a cup of tea and some block chocolate. These short halts
did not make one stiff like a longer wait. Finally, we halted at 8.30
after eleven hours on the move. We had sledged eight miles as the
result of the day’s work, and were already feeling fitter and enjoying
our pemmican. How greasy and thick it tastes at first! and yet how
soon it seems to vanish almost at sight!

The sun came out and there was a tremendous glare from the snow.
Goggles were donned and were not an unmixed blessing. The hot glare
disappeared, but sweat rolled down one’s forehead and fogged the
glasses so that it was impossible to see through them.

On the 8th we continued our “trek” towards Butter Point. There is very
little variety on these journeys; you pull till you are tired—not
talking much, for that uses too much breath, but thinking of all sorts
of topics. As long as one leans forward in the belt and keeps time
there is not much else to engage one’s attention. Even the leader
merely notes some object in his line of march and plugs steadily on
until it is time to halt for the five minutes’ spell!

At 4 o’clock we were nearly 20 miles from the hut, and therefore, as
we halted for tea, still ten miles from Butter Point. It was gloomy
and soon started drifting again, always from the south-east and always
giving but a short warning of low driving snow before the full blast
struck us.

This blizzard lasted thirty-six hours. We lay in our bags and slept
most of the time. It is wonderful how one’s appetite decreases during
these enforced waits. The normal amount of thirty-three ounces of
_dried_ food per day would be enormous in ordinary life; when lying
snug in one’s bag, no energy is used in work and little in heat, so
that about twenty ounces seems sufficient, and one of the meals can be
cut out with ease.

On Saturday morning I turned out at 3 a.m., and a little later it was
obviously clearing. The drift was deep over the sledges and nearly
over the door. We had been delayed so much that I felt we must now
turn back, so we packed the tent and one meal on the small sledge and
left a large flag on a bamboo by the larger sledge.

We had only about 100 lbs. to pull and yet the twenty miles
(twenty-three statute) was a hard journey. I hoped to be in by noon,
but the surface was very bad. We had tea and a biscuit at six and
another short meal at noon. We could see the four isles off Cape Evans
all the time, and I think our chief occupation while sledging was in
watching them take up various angles in front of the Cape as we
gradually got nearer the hut. We crossed some landmarks in the shape
of the huge shear cracks. One at nine miles, one at four and a half,
and a small one two and a half miles from the hut. The last six miles
were awful, for the erstwhile mirror-like ice near the Cape was now
covered with a sticky film of snow over which we could hardly pull the
empty sledge.

However we began to see dead penguins, and then we knew we were within
a “dog’s walk” of the hut—for these were relics of their occupation.
Next we reached the triangular area to leeward (north) of the hut,
which viewed from the Ramp was of a yellow tinge from the straw and
other debris blown there by the blizzards. And so at 4.30 p.m., just
twelve hours after starting we arrived. I immediately rushed Clissold
the cook for tinned pears, and found none left. So I started on three
rounds of toast. We then had soup, rissoles, and fruit tart. I had
three helps of the former and two of the latter and still felt hungry.
Debenham’s leg had not been going on very well, but was better than on
Wednesday. They had had no drift at the hut on Tuesday!

After another council I decided to take advantage of Nelson’s kind
offer. He would accompany us with the little Russian groom Anton. If
all went well they could return; if Debenham were too lame to proceed
they could bring him back, and Gran, Forde, and myself would push on
to Granite Harbour as a three-man party.

Sunday and Monday passed quietly in the hut though the weather was bad
outside. On Tuesday it was very unpromising until 3 p.m., when we
could just make out the Western Mountains. At 3.20 we made our final
start with Nelson and Anton as a convoy. Debenham hobbled alongside,
and as the surface was better than previously and the wind blew to the
west we made fair progress. This time we took on our cameras and Day’s
blubber stove. At six miles we pitched camp and were starting supper
when I discovered that we had left the can of spirits behind. This
fluid was necessary to start the primus stove in low temperatures, so
Gran and I tramped back to the hut for it. It was a stiff walk, for we
were afraid of thick black clouds to the south and the wind rose to
sixty miles an hour, luckily without drift. After some supper I turned
into my bunk for the last time that year. Gran slept in the bunk
above, and as the result of some salmon and a recent perusal of Jules
Verne’s “Mysterious Island,” suffered from nightmare. He explained
next morning that he thought Erebus had overwhelmed the Cape with
red-hot lava, wherein Simpson had been engulfed, but the geologists
had calmly climbed up to the crater! Was this a forecast of his own
escape on the summit a year later, when Gran was nearly choked by the
fumes?

We found the spirits where we had been packing the sledges, and
trudged out to the tents to find the others having breakfast. However,
we started at 10 a.m. and did nine miles by 5.30. I camped early to
prevent Debenham overstraining his leg.

On the 16th we awoke to find snow falling, though there was not much
wind. We had been so much delayed that I determined to try marching
through the thick weather lying ahead of us. Although we were fairly
close to the magnetic pole, and the compass consequently had very
little “horizontal pull,” yet I determined to try steering by it,
especially as we had a spare man to steer us. We wanted to go almost
due west, but the compass direction, owing to the variation, was S.
65° E.! So Debenham marched some fifty yards behind us, and signalled
to Nelson, who repeatedly turned to observe him. Meanwhile I tried to
steer a course by any object which I could see looming up through the
mist ahead. We serpentined considerably at first, but moved steadily
westward. Our surprise and gratification may be imagined when we
suddenly saw footprints ahead of us, and realized that we had exactly
hit on our route of the week before. We had not seen any trace of our
track since leaving the hut, and this encounter was as marvellous as
finding a needle in the proverbial bottle of hay. On we went into the
thick of it till 1 p.m. My eyes soon tired with looking at huge crags,
which turned out to be ice splinters twenty yards away. Finally the
western hills appeared, and we were all on the _qui vive_ to be the
first to spot the depôt flag. Nelson offered his raisins as a reward,
and then won them himself! We reached our depôt at 2 p.m.

The sledge was not buried, though a great lee had been built by the
blizzards. We had a merry lunch, all six sitting in one tent. Anton’s
plans caused much amusement. We gathered that he was going back to
Russia to marry a rich wife, and so long as she were wealthy we
understood that he had no objection even to a wooden leg!

The clouds began to roll away _en masse_, leaving behind a magnificent
Italian blue sky, as if the blizzard had purged it of all impurity.
The resulting contrast with the dazzling white mountains had something
of a Japanese effect, and the afternoon was one of the finest I saw in
the Antarctic.

We camped within seven miles of Butter Point. I was delighted to catch
Debenham surreptitiously helping with the back sledge, for he found
that his leg was certainly no worse for the rough work he was giving
it.

On the 17th we moved on with another sledge added. They pulled
stiffly, and we met with soft snow every few yards. Moreover, we
encountered some “screw-pack,” which is a very formidable obstacle,
and of which we met more than enough in the next week or so. I suppose
that here the sea-ice had been broken up and jammed together before
finally freezing into a continuous sheet. However, by zigzagging we
made steady progress, and reached Butter Point about 5 p.m.

We pitched the two tents first thing, on the thick snowdrifts near the
tide crack. Then we walked up to the depôt, where our boxes stood out
boldly, some three hundred yards away.

We dragged up the small sledge and loaded it with cocoa, sugar,
pemmican, etc., and then a second time took down 330 lbs. of biscuits.
The floor on which the stores had been laid in January was now over
two feet down. This gives some indication of the change in the surface
of the piedmont ice in nine months. Probably drift accounted for most
of the deposit.

The two tents now resembled grocers’ shops. In one Nelson and Forde
were bagging the cocoa, in the other Gran and I opened tins of
pemmican and placed them in weekly bags also. Meanwhile Debenham
prepared a fine hoosh, and Anton conducted a lively class in Russian.
In the depôt were some soft captain’s biscuits left by Shackleton’s
party. Forde and Debenham preferred them to our official ration of
hard sledging biscuit, and so we made an exchange, for I knew we could
always make up deficit by seal meat.

On the 18th we started off with six men to pull the three sledges; but
we found it impossible, and had to relay all the time. We were now
crossing the mouth of New Harbour, making for Cape Bernacchi, at its
north-east corner.

At lunch we finished off Nelson’s contribution of Tru milk, and
Debenham took a photo of the combined parties. Then the “Convoy
Commando” left us, and we saw them for an hour or so plugging steadily
towards Cape Royds. Here Nelson intended to get some penguin eggs
before going to Cape Evans.

Now we were left to our own resources, with 1350 lbs. to drag along. I
distributed the weight more evenly on the two sledges, putting the
heavy biscuit-boxes on one, and the tents and sledging gear on the
other.

After lunch we pulled off, Debenham and myself in front, and Forde and
Gran near the sledge. The sun was hot, but as usual, when we
anticipated trouble, it was not forthcoming, for Debenham was able to
help us very materially, and the surface was rippled and harder than
we had seen hitherto.

Soon we were hotter than we liked, and our headgear was modified to
suit the climate. Forde appeared in a huge panama. Debenham and Gran
had felt hats with ear-flaps, and I wore an ordinary colonial felt,
which I tied down like a coal-scuttle when the wind was too keen. This
day it was warm enough to wear no hat at all, so I walked bareheaded
with goggles, “and would have liked to pull off my vest also”!

The screw-pack was low hereabouts, only projecting two or three feet;
but the hollows were masked by snow, which made the walking difficult
and even dangerous for Debenham. We took the “biscuit” sledge on first
for about a mile and flagged it; then trudged back for the “tent”
sledge. Debenham met us soon, and pulled with us for the same weary
mile. It took about forty minutes to do this, and about twenty to walk
back, so that transporting the half ton over a mile meant a hundred
minutes of very hard labour, which with a light load we could cover in
twenty-five minutes.

Well, we had some weeks of it, and by the time five miles comes to be
accounted a good day’s journey, progress does not seem so slow as it
did at first. We used to leave Debenham ahead with the first sledge at
our evening stage, and when we three brought up the biscuit sledge we
would find that he had nearly got the “hoosh” ready. There was no
mention of “too much pemmican” nowadays!

We were now crossing New Harbour. It was interesting to see so clearly
the old landmarks of Dry Valley, and amusing to think of our bet with
Taff Evans as to the identity of the valley we were now passing. He
was convinced that we could not see Dry Valley from Butter Point, and
we had had a hot discussion in the previous February on the point.

From this point we saw a most wonderful array of cwm valleys. On the
flanks of Mount Lister they were clustered thickly like thumbmarks in
a piece of putty. On the slopes of the Kukri Hills we could see steep
gullies, as it were, growing into “chimneys,” and these into deeper
valleys, and so into veritable cwms or cirques. They illustrate an
interesting scientific principle. It is naturally impossible to see
the stages of valley erosion evolving before one’s eyes—as impossible
as to see a barrier reef changing into a coral atoll—and yet one
cannot doubt that this evolution occurs when we have all the
intermediate stages confronting us.

We intended to carry out a very complete survey on this journey. We
had two separate instruments, a theodolite and a plane-table. With the
former I was able to fix far distant peaks with considerable accuracy,
and also by observations on the sun to determine the latitude and
longitude of the main stations of our survey. With the plane-table
Debenham carried out a unique detailed survey of the coast-line, not
only showing the outlines of the land but also all the physiographic
features. By means of the theodolite we were also able to plot the
elevations fairly accurately, and when these were added to the
plane-table charts I think we brought back from our sledging trip an
Antarctic survey unique for its completeness in the field.

The surface for the next few miles was very bad. I wished Wright were
with us, not only to lend us his sturdy muscles, but to study the
queer morass we encountered. We were sinking nearly to the knee in
snow crystals. These were not wet, but so incoherent that they clogged
the sledge-meter, and for the remainder of our journey we had to
remember the miles missed from our reckoning before reaching Cape
Bernacchi.

The yellow goggles gave rise to a queer illusion. It was just as if we
were pulling through heavy sand at the mouth of a river, and owing to
some wind and water action, there were the same ripples and channels
as are to be seen in an estuary.

Captain Scott had ordered us to leave a week’s provisions at Cape
Bernacchi, for we should need this if the bay ice went out, and we had
to return overland. So we carried up a half-tin of biscuit, and filled
it with butter, pemmican, and chocolate. This was reared on end, and
protected by a cairn of granite. We surmounted it with one of our
precious bamboos carrying a flag. I left a note informing the finder
as to our progress, and immediate plans. This was the first of our
post offices, of which we established four more during the summer.

Though all this took time, we also made a collection of rocks for
Debenham. The loose snow had wrenched his knee badly, so that much as
he would have liked to explore our first new land, he was unable to
move many yards from the sledge. Marble, granite, tourmaline gneiss,
basalts and schists, and a few mineral veins gave us quite a fine
collection—though most of them were moraine specimens.

I sketched the coast to northward, observing with great satisfaction
that there was no open water in sight. Numerous seals were basking in
the next bay, which augured well for our future food supply. Less
welcome was the rugged area of screw-pack which filled the bay, and
which we should have to traverse on our next stage.

Debenham had packed the sledge, and we moved off in the afternoon,
winding in and out between jagged lumps of ice, sometimes eight feet
high. There was interesting spoor here; an Emperor penguin had
evidently passed by, and his sturdy tread had hardened the snow
somewhat. Ensuing blizzards swept away the softer snow, and left his
imperial footprints standing in relief.

We camped in the screw-pack, and passed a peaceful night. Next morning
the narration of a dream caused some amusement. “I had invited
Professor David to dine, and arrived two hours late; as I had no money
to pay for the meal I calmly decided to wake, and did so!” We often
discussed dreams, especially after my repeating what I could remember
of an article in a magazine I had read in the Old Discovery Hut. It
pointed out that one’s own personality was often revealed in the
clearest fashion. I hope the above sample was not of this type.

We reached Marble Cape at noon, and from the top we could see our
wandering friend from Ross Island—the three-mile fragment of Glacier
Tongue. There was Oates’ depôt as clear as ever, and the huge field of
ice had almost filled the bay between this cape and one to the north.
Its sides projected thirty feet above the sea-ice, and we could see
that it was largely built of snow, which was folded in a very complex
manner, and probably originated largely as snow cornices, just as
current-bedding in rocks is formed from steep delta deposits.

To the west, behind the cape, was the sheer front of the Piedmont
Glacier. It ended in a face about thirty feet high, and evidently was
for the most part moulded over the hills, though a few _nunakoller_
projected through it.

We reached a high cape built of gneiss, and camped there for the
night, among a colony of seals. We were doubtful as to whether this,
or the previous headland, was David’s “Marble Cape”; in fact, as some
one said, it was a “nice point.” At any rate this pun led to the name
_Gneiss Point_, by which we knew it.

Next morning it was a blow to our pride to drag the sledge through the
numerous seals, and to find that they evidently despised us too much
to move out of our way. It was a favourite basking ground, and many
square yards of snow were rolled flat and hard by the sleeping seals,
while canoe-shaped hollows showed where some unsociable beast had lain
at a distance from his fellows.

We started off relaying as usual, but as I was returning I felt this
was just the time to test our outfit as an ice yacht! A steady south
wind was blowing almost directly behind us, and the next few miles
showed a reasonably good surface.

The six heavy bamboo poles, on which the tent is hung, were so
arranged that two could be taken out of the leather bucket uniting
them at the top. The remaining two pairs were fixed vertically above
the front sledge to form a double mast. We lashed them to the
stanchions with lamp-wick. The other two bamboos were used as yards
for the floorcloth. This sail was held up by a rope—actually off
Forde’s sleeping-bag—which passed over the top of the “bucket” on the
mast, and the pull of the wind kept it taut. Two “main sheets” helped
to secure things, and passed from the yards to the rear of the sledge.
Forde was bo’sun, and made a good job of it. Meanwhile, the delay had
frozen the sledges to the sea-ice, but after “breaking” them out, we
managed to start the yacht and its tender, and to our delight we could
just move the half ton along! It was frightfully hard work, especially
the start; but we could do a mile in forty-five minutes, whereas
formerly relays and halts made this a two-hour job. Luckily,
Debenham’s leg was now much better, and the miles piled up splendidly.
We did 6½ geographic miles by 7 p.m., instead of 4½ by 9 p.m. as
heretofore.

In gratitude we called this bay the Bay of Sails; a variation from
Shackleton’s famous inlet, the Bay of Whales. The coast was fringed by
Piedmont Glacier, but a little rock showed at the water’s edge. We
indulged in extra raisins for lunch, and camped at night near a large
cape, which reminded Forde of Spike Island, near Cork.

The ice was evidently affected by the summer breaks, for we had to
cross a crack two feet wide, where the water was surging continuously.
A young seal here caused us some amusement, its heart-rending
“baa-aas” and strenuous efforts to climb a gigantic ridge eight inches
high being very comic.

“_November 23_, 10.15 p.m.—The sun is shining brightly for the first
time to-day. The tent is flapping gaily, partly owing to the two poles
being a bit loose, and partly to the keen southerly wind which is
driving over the shore glacier. I am as snug as possible in my bag
since I sewed the new left-hand flap thereon. I shall patent this! for
a man can lie left or right, fur in or out now. The temperature is
+14° F., and the barometer has risen rapidly to 30.14. This change
probably means something unpleasant, but Erebus is very clear and the
steam going south!”

In spite of hurrying, putting the sail together inside the tent took
time, so that it was 10.45 before we started with sail set and a fair
wind for the next headland. This looked like a dented door-knob, and
we reached it by lunch with the mast bending and the sail bulging in
true nautical style.

As we passed it I saw that we had reached Dunlop Island, which had
been hidden from us by a line of icebergs. It is separated from Dunlop
Cape by a strait about one-third of a mile wide. We hailed this with
joy, for it seemed to be pure blue ice; but over this blizzards had
blown low parallel ridges of snow which were about 20 feet apart. The
snow was sticky with salt, and the alternation of clear ice with
sticky snow was almost impassable. For we could not stand on the ice
and the sledge would not move over the snow, and when we could pull
from the snow, the sledges were on clear ice and the wind drove them
along unassisted! I don’t know how Debenham managed, but I wrenched my
leg, and for days afterwards had cause to remember Dunlop Strait.

Dunlop Island is a mere ridge of shingle about 60 feet high. There was
a fierce wind blowing which prevented my taking any photographs, but I
managed to get a round of angles with the theodolite before my hands
were numbed. There seemed to be four ancient beach-levels marked by
well-rounded boulders which point to elevation in this region. Looking
to the north we could see nothing but a great barrier wall of ice
along the coast. The trend of the latter was almost continuous from
Cape Bernacchi, and we could see no foundation for the sharp turn to
the north-west charted on the existing maps.

We pushed on for the north along this forbidding wall of ice. It was
almost December now, and the sea-ice might break up any day, so that
our next few days were anxious ones. We had great difficulty from the
sticky surface, and the wind changed direction, nearly blowing the
sledge over, so I decided to “down sail” and steer nearer the land. We
could only with difficulty pull one sledge, and had to relay till we
reached the face of the glacier, where we camped. While Debenham
cooked the hoosh—an excellent one, of which I had one and a half
pots!—Gran and I managed to climb 200 feet up the glacier front. The
ice was much broken and recemented with some deep crevasses and queer
puckered ridges. After making a sketch and searching for signs of open
water, luckily without result, we turned in and spent a comfortable
night.