*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 69138 ***

Transcriber Note: Text emphasis denoted as _Italics_.



[Illustration: The Commander of the Expedition]





SHACKLETON IN THE ANTARCTIC BEING THE STORY OF THE BRITISH ANTARCTIC
EXPEDITION, 1907-1909


BY SIR ERNEST SHACKLETON C.V.O.


[Illustration]

LONDON

WILLIAM HEINEMANN

MCMXI


SHACKLETON IN THE ANTARCTIC

ADAPTED FROM

THE HEART OF THE ANTARCTIC

_First published (Two Volumes) November 1909_ _Popular Edition ( One
Volume) November 1910_



_Copyright London 1909, by William Heinemann, and Washington, U.S.A.,
by J. B. Lippincott Company_




CONTENTS


    CHAP                                                      PAGE
        I. The Expedition                                       11
       II. Supplies and Equipment                               15
      III. The Ship, the Hut, and Other Necessities             18
       IV. The Staff and the Royal Visit                        23
        V. We Leave Lyttelton                                   26
       VI. The Antarctic Circle                                 31
      VII. The Attempt to Reach King Edward VII Land            36
     VIII. Landing of Stores and Equipment                      46
       IX. The "Nimrod" Leaves Us                               52
        X. Winter Quarters at Cape Royds Outside                58
       XI. Winter Quarters--Inside                              63
      XII. Sledging Equipment                                   68
     XIII. Our Ponies and Dogs                                  74
      XIV. Mount Erebus                                         78
       XV. Attacking Mount Erebus                               80
      XVI. The Conquest of Mount Erebus                         87
     XVII. Preparations for the Winter Months                   95
    XVIII. Still in the Hut                                     98
      XIX. Preliminary Journeys                                104
       XX. Arrangements and Instructions                       108
      XXI. The Start to the South Pole                         112
     XXII. Onward                                              117
    XXIII. Beyond All Former Footsteps                         122
     XXIV. The Highway to the South                            126
      XXV. On the Great Glacier                                130
     XXVI. On the Plateau to the Farthest South                135
    XXVII. Farthest South                                      142
   XXVIII. The Return March                                    146
     XXIX. Struggling Back                                     151
      XXX. The Final Stage                                     158
     XXXI. Notes on the Southern Journey                       164
    XXXII. The Return of the "Nimrod"                          173
   XXXIII. The Western Party                                   178
    XXXIV. Instructions for the Northern Party                 184
     XXXV. The Narrative of Professor David. We Start for
             the Magnetic Pole                                 187
    XXXVI. Across the Ice Barrier                              193
   XXXVII. The Drygalski Glacier                               199
  XXXVIII. Crevasses                                           203
    XXXIX. Upwards and Onwards                                 208
       XL. The Magnetic Pole                                   212
      XLI. Returning                                           216
     XLII. Obstacles In Our Course                             222
    XLIII. Safe Aboard                                         226
     XLIV. The Return to New Zealand                           231
      XLV. Penguins. (Some Notes by James Murray,
             Biologist to the Expedition)                      238
     XLVI. The Adelies and Their Chicks                        245
    XLVII. Notes                                               254



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

                                                              PAGE
  Section Showing Interior of _Nimrod_                          13
  Seal Suckling Young and Taking no Notice of Motor-Car         17
  Their Majesties King Edward and Queen Alexandra
    Inspecting the Equipment on the _Nimrod_ at Cowes           21
  The Towing Steamer _Koonya_ as Seen from the
    _Nimrod_ in a Heavy Sea. This Particular Wave Came
    Aboard the _Nimrod_ and Did Considerable Damage             25
  View of the Great Ice Barrier                                 29
  Pushing Through Heavy Floes in the Ross Sea. The
    Dark Line on the Horizon is a "Water Sky" and
    Indicates the Existence of Open Sea                         33
  Flight of Antarctic Petrels                                   37
  _Nimrod_ Moored Off Tabular Bergs                             41
  Adelie Penguins at Cape Royds                                 45
  The _Nimrod_ Lying Off the Penguin Rookery, Cape Royds        49
  The Ponies Transporting Coal on Sledges at Back Door Bay      53
  Digging Out Stores After the Cases Had Been Buried in
    Ice During a Blizzard                                       57
  Winter Quarters                                               61
  The First Slopes of Erebus                                    65
  Marston in His Bed                                            69
  Plan of the Hut at Winter Quarters                            73
  A Group of the Shore Party at the Winter Quarters             77
  Ice Flowers on Newly-Formed Sea Ice Early in the Winter       81
  One Thousand Feet Below the Active Cone                       85
  The "Lion" of Erebus                                          89
  The Crater of Erebus, 900 Feet Deep and Half a Mile wide.
    Steam is Seen Rising on the Left. The Photograph
    was Taken from the Lower Part of the Crater Edge            93
  The Type Case and Printing Press for the Production of
    the "Aurora Australis" in Joyce's and Wild's Cubicle
    known as "The Rogues' Retreat"                              99
  Preparing a Sledge During the Winter                         103
  The Leader of the Expedition in Winter Garb                  107
  The Motor-Car in the Garage, Maize-Crusher on the Right      111
  The Southern Party Marching into the White Unknown           115
  Cape Barne and Inaccessible Island by Moonlight              119
  New Land. The Party Ascended Mount Hope and Sighted
    the Great Glacier, up which They Marched Through the
    Gap. The Main Body of the Glacier Joins the Barrier
    Further to the Left                                        129
  Lower Glacier Depot. The Stores Were Buried in the
    Snow Near the Rock in the Foreground                       133
  The Camp below "The Cloud Maker"                             137
  Facsimile of Page of Shackleton's Diary                      141
  The Farthest South Camp After Sixty Hours' Blizzard          145
  Farthest South, January 9, 1909                              149
  The Camp Under the Granite Pillar, Half a Mile from the
    Lower Glacier Depot, Where the Party Camped on
    January 27                                                 153
  Shackleton Standing by the Broken Southern Sledge,
    Which was Replaced by Another at Grisi Depot               157
  Return Journey of the Southern Party: At the Bluff Depot     161
  The Southern Party on Board the _Nimrod_                     165
  The _Nimrod_ Pushing Through Heavy Pack Ice On Her
    Way South                                                  171
  The _Nimrod_ Held Up in the Ice                              177
  The Bluff Depot                                              181
  The Motor Hauling Stores for a Depot                         185
  Loaded Sledge Showing the Distance Recorder or Sledge-meter  191
  The Northern Party on the Plateau, New Year's Day            201
  The Northern Party at the South Magnetic Pole                209
  Ready to Start Home                                          217
  A View of the Hut in Summer                                  227
  Emperor Penguins                                             237
  An Adelie Calling for a Mate after Commencing the Nest       243
  Adelie Trying to Mother a Couple of Well-Grown Strangers     247
  Penguins Listening to the Gramophone During the Summer       251




CHAPTER I

THE EXPEDITION



Men go out into the void spaces of the world for various
reasons. Some are incited simply by a love of adventure, some have
a keen thirst for scientific knowledge, and others are drawn away
from trodden paths by the mysterious fascination of the unknown. I
think that in my own case it was a combination of these factors that
determined me to try my fortune once again in the frozen south.

I had been invalided home before the conclusion of the _Discovery_
expedition, and I had the keenest desire to see more of the vast
continent that lies amid the Antarctic snows and glaciers. Indeed the
stark polar lands grip the hearts of men who have lived on them in
a manner that can hardly be understood by people who have never got
outside the pale of civilisation. I was convinced, moreover, that an
expedition on the lines I had in view could justify itself by the
results of its scientific work.

The _Discovery_ expedition had performed splendid service in several
important branches of science, and I believed that a second expedition
could carry the work still further. For instance, the southern limits
of the Great Ice Barrier had not been defined, and it was important to
the scientific world that information should be gained regarding the
movement of the ice-sheet that forms the barrier. I also wanted to
discover what lay beyond the mountains to the south of latitude 82° 17′
and whether the Antarctic continent rose to a plateau similar to the
one found by Captain Scott beyond the western mountains.

There was much also to be done in the fields of meteorology, zoology,
biology, mineralogy and general geology, so much in fact that apart
from the wish to gain a higher latitude the expedition seemed to be
justified on scientific grounds alone.

The difficulty that confronts most men who wish to undertake
exploration work is that of finance, and for some time I was faced
by financial problems; but when the governments of Australia and New
Zealand came to my assistance, the position became more satisfactory.

In the _Geographical Journal_ for March 1907, I outlined my plan of
campaign, but this had materially to be changed later on owing to
circumstances. "The shore-party of nine or twelve men will winter with
sufficient equipment to enable three separate parties to start out in
the spring," I announced. "One party will go east, and, if possible,
across the Barrier to the new land known as King Edward VII Land, the
second party will proceed south over the same route as that of the
southern sledge-party of the _Discovery_, the third party will possibly
proceed westward over the mountains, and, instead of crossing in a line
due west, will strike towards the magnetic pole. The main changes in
equipment will be that Siberian ponies will be taken for the sledge
journeys both east and south, and also a specially designed motor-car
for the southern journey. I do not intend to sacrifice the scientific
utility of the expedition to a mere record-breaking journey, but say
frankly, all the same, that one of my great efforts will be to reach
the southern geographical pole."

[Illustration: Section, showing Interior of "Nimrod"

1. Forecastle. 2. Stores. 3. Chain locker. 4. Fore hold. 5. Lower hold.
6. Stoke hold. 7. Carpenters' shop. 8. Cook's Galley. 9. Engine room.
10. Engine room. 11. Boiler. 12. After hold. 13. Lower hold. 14. After
bridge. 15. Officer's quarters. 16 Captain's quarters. 17. Oyster
alley. (_See page 19._)]

My intention was that the expedition should leave New Zealand at the
beginning of 1908, and proceed to winter quarters on the Antarctic
continent, the ship to land men and stores and then return. By
avoiding the ship being frozen in, the use of a relief ship would be
unnecessary, as the same vessel could come south again the following
summer and take us off.

Before we finally left England I had decided that if possible I would
establish my base on King Edward VII Land instead of at the _Discovery_
winter quarters in McMurdo Sound, so that we might break entirely new
ground. The narrative will show how, as far as this particular matter
was concerned, my plans were upset by the demands of the situation.
Owing largely to the unexpected loss of ponies before the winter, the
journey to King Edward VII Land over the Barrier was not attempted.

As the expedition was entirely my own venture I decided that I would
have no committee, and thus I avoided delays that are inevitable when a
group of men have to arrive at a decision on points of detail. The aim
of one who undertakes to organise such an expedition must be to provide
for every contingency, and in dealing with this Work I was fortunate
enough to secure the assistance of Mr. Alfred Reid, who had already
gained considerable experience in connection with previous polar
ventures, and who--as manager of the expedition--was invaluable to me.




CHAPTER II


I--SUPPLIES

For a polar expedition the food must in the first place be
wholesome and nourishing in the highest possible degree. Scurvy--that
dread disease--was once regarded as the inevitable result of a
prolonged stay in ice-bound regions, but by selecting food-stuffs which
had been prepared on scientific lines we entirely avoided any sickness
attributable directly or indirectly to the foods we took with us.

In the second place the food taken on the sledging expeditions must be
as light as possible, always remembering that in very low temperatures
the heat of the body can be maintained only by use of fatty and
farinaceous foods in fairly large quantities. The sledging-foods must
also be such as do not require prolonged cooking, for the amount of
fuel that can be carried is limited. It must even be possible to eat
these foods without any cooking, because the fuel may be lost or
exhausted.

As regards foods for use at the winter quarters of the expedition a
greater variety was possible, for the ship might be expected to reach
that point and weight was consequently of less importance. My aim was
to get a large variety of foods for the winter night, when the long
months of darkness severely strain men unaccustomed to the conditions.

I based my estimates on the requirements of twelve men for two years,
but this was added to in New Zealand when the staff was increased.

At first the question of packing presented difficulties, but at last
I decided to use "Venesta" cases both for food-stuffs and as much as
possible for equipment. These cases are manufactured from composite
boards prepared by uniting three layers of birch or other hard wood
with water-proof cement. They were eminently suited to our purpose,
and the saving of weight, as compared with an ordinary packing-case,
was about four pounds per case. In spite of the rough handling our
stores received in the process of being landed at Cape Royds, after the
expedition had reached the Antarctic we had no trouble with breakages.


II--EQUIPMENT

After placing orders for the principal food supplies I went to Norway
with Mr. Reid to secure sledges, fur boots and mits, sleeping bags,
ski, &c. The sledges were to be of the Nansen pattern, built of
specially selected timber and of the best workmanship. I ordered ten
twelve-foot sledges, eighteen eleven-foot sledges and two seven-foot
sledges, the largest being suitable for pony-haulage. The sledges were
made by Messrs. Hagen and Company of Christiania and proved to be all
that I desired.

The next step was to secure furs, but this was not a very large order
as after the experience of the _Discovery_ expedition I decided to use
fur only for the feet and hands and for the sleeping-bags, relying
otherwise on woollen garments with an outer covering of windproof
material. I ordered three large sleeping-bags, to hold three men each,
and twelve one-man bags. Each bag had the reindeer fur inside, and the
seams were covered with leather strongly sewn.

[Illustration: Seal suckling Young, and taking no Notice of the
Motor-car]

The foot-gear I ordered consisted of eighty pairs of ordinary finnesko
or reindeer-fur boots, twelve pairs of special finnesko and sixty
pairs of ski boots of various sizes. The ordinary finnesko is made
from the skin of the reindeer stag's head, with the fur outside, and
its shape is roughly that of a very large boot without any laces. It
is large enough to hold the foot, several pairs of socks, and a supply
of sennegrass, and it is a wonderfully warm and comfortable foot-gear.
This sennegrass is a dried grass of long fibre with a special quality
of absorbing moisture and I bought fifty kilos (110.25 lb.) of it in
Norway.

The sixty pairs of wolfskin and dogskin mits which I ordered from Mr.
Möller were made with the fur outside, were long enough to protect the
wrists, and had one compartment for the four fingers and another for
the thumb. They were worn over woollen gloves and were hung round the
neck with lamp-wick when the use of the fingers was required.




CHAPTER III

THE SHIP, THE HUT AND OTHER NECESSITIES


Before I left Norway I visited Sandyfjord to see whether I
could come to terms with Mr. C. Christiansen, the owner of the _Bjorn_,
a ship specially built for polar work; but much as I wished to try her
I could not afford to pay the price.

So when I returned to London I purchased the _Nimrod_. She was small
and old, and her maximum speed under steam was hardly more than six
knots, but on the other hand she was able to face rough treatment in
the ice. I confess that I was disappointed when I first examined the
little ship, to which I was about to commit the hopes and aspirations
of many years, but I had not then become acquainted with her many
good qualities, and my first impression scarcely did justice to the
plucky old ship. She was at once put into the hands of Messrs. R.
& H. Green of Blackwall, the famous firm that had built so many of
Britain's "wooden walls," and that had done fitting and repairing work
for several other polar expeditions, and day by day she assumed a more
satisfactory appearance. Quarters were provided for the scientific
staff of the expedition by enclosing a portion of the after-hold and
constructing cabins which were entered by a steep ladder from the
deck-house. For some reason not on record these small quarters were
known later as "Oyster Alley."

As however the _Nimrod_, after landing the shore-party with stores and
equipment, would return to New Zealand, it was necessary that we should
have a reliable hut in which to live during the Antarctic night, and
until the sledging journeys began in the following spring.


THE HUT

I ordered a hut (which was to be our only refuge from furious
blizzards) measuring externally 33 ft. by 19 ft. by 8 ft. to the eaves
from Messrs. Humphreys of Knightsbridge. It was specially constructed
to my order, and after being erected and inspected in London was
shipped in sections.

It was made of stout fir timbering of best quality in walls, roofs and
floors, and the parts were all morticed and tenoned to make erection
easy in the Antarctic. Great precautions were taken against the extreme
cold, and the hut was to be erected on wooden piles let into the ground
or ice, and rings were fixed to the top of the roof so that guy-ropes
might be used to give additional resistance to the gales. The hut had
two doors, connected by a small porch, so that ingress or egress would
not cause a draught of cold air, and the windows were double so that
the warmth of the hut might be retained. We took little furniture as I
proposed to use cases for the construction of benches, beds, and other
necessary articles of internal equipment. The hut was to be lighted
with acetylene gas, and we took a generator, the necessary piping and a
supply of carbide.

We also took a cooking-range, manufactured by Messrs. Smith and
Wellstrood, of London, which had a fire chamber designed to burn
anthracite coal continuously day and night.


CLOTHING

Each member of the expedition was supplied with two winter suits made
of heavy blue pilot cloth, lined with Jaeger fleece. An outer suit of
windproof material is necessary in the polar regions, and I secured
twenty-four suits of Burberry gabardine. The underclothing was obtained
from the Dr. Jaeger Sanitary Woollen Company.


PONIES, DOGS, AND MOTOR-CAR

I decided to take ponies, dogs, and a car to assist in hauling our
sledges on long journeys, but my hopes were mainly based on the ponies.
Dogs had not proved satisfactory on the Barrier surface, but I was sure
that the hardy ponies used in Northern China and Manchuria would be
useful if landed in good condition on the ice. They had done good work
both on the Jackson-Harmsworth expedition and in the Russo-Japanese
War. Fifteen of these ponies, practically unbroken and about fourteen
hands high, were selected and ultimately transferred to Quail Island in
Port Lyttelton, where they were free to feed in luxury until they were
required.

[Illustration: Their Majesties King Edward and Queen Alexandra
inspecting the Equipment on the "Nimrod" at Cowes, (_See page 26_)]

As I thought it possible, from my previous experience, that we might
find a hard surface on the Great Ice Barrier, I resolved to take a
motor-car, so I selected a 12-15 horse-power New Arrol-Johnston car,
fitted with a specially designed air-cooled four-cylinder engine and
Simms Bosch magneto ignition. A non-freezing oil was prepared for me
by Messrs. Price and Company. I placed, as I have suggested, but small
reliance on dogs; I did however order forty of the descendants of the
Siberian dogs used on the Newnes-Borchgrevink expedition. The breeder
was only able to let me have nine, but this team proved sufficient for
my purposes.


SCIENTIFIC INSTRUMENTS

On the scientific side the equipment of a polar expedition is very
costly, and I felt the pinch of necessary economies in this branch.
I was, however, greatly assisted by loans of instruments and charts
from the Admiralty; the Royal Geographical Society lent me three
chronometer watches, and three wardens of the Skinners' Company gave me
one chronometer watch which accompanied me on my journey to the Pole
and which proved to be the most accurate of all. We also took with us a
photographic equipment which included nine cameras, and a cinematograph
machine in order that we might place on record the curious movements of
seals and penguins.

For the rest I had tried to provide for every contingency, and the
gear ranged from needles and nails to a Remington typewriter and two
Singer sewing machines. There was also a gramophone and a complete
printing-press; and even hockey-sticks and a football were not
forgotten.




CHAPTER IV

THE STAFF AND THE ROYAL VISIT


It was no easy matter for me to select the staff from the large
number (over 400) of applicants who wished to join the expedition.

After much consideration I selected eleven men for the shore-party,
only three of whom--Adams, Wild and Joyce--had been known to me
previously, while only Wild and Joyce, having been members of the
_Discovery_ expedition, had previous experience of polar work. Every
man, however, was highly recommended, and this was also the case with
the officers whom I chose for the _Nimrod_. Before leaving New Zealand
I was able to increase the number of the expedition, which ultimately
consisted of:

THE SHORE-PARTY

  Ernest H. Shackleton, Commander.
  Professor T. W. Edgeworth David, F.R.S., Director of the
    scientific staff.
  Lieutenant J. B. Adams, R.N.R., Meteorologist.
  Sir Philip Brocklehurst, Bart., Assistant geologist.
  Bernard Day, Motor expert.
  Ernest Joyce, in charge of dogs, sledges, &c.
  Dr. A. F. Mackay, Surgeon.
  Douglas Mawson, D.Sc., B.E., Physicist.
  Bertram Armytage, in charge of ponies.
  Dr. E. Marshall, Surgeon, cartographer.
  G. E. Marston, Artist.
  J. Murray, Biologist.
  Raymond Priestley, Geologist.
  W. Roberts, Cook.
  F. Wild, in charge of provisions.

THE SHIP'S STAFF

  Lieutenant R. G. England, R.N.R., Captain.
  John K. Davis, Chief officer, later captain.
  A. L. A. Mackintosh, Second officer.
  A. E. Harbord, Auxiliary second officer.
  H. J. L. Dunlop, Chief engineer.
  W. A. R. Michell, Surgeon.
  Alfred Cheetham, Third officer and boatswain.
  W. D. Ansell, Steward.
  J. Montague, Cook.
  E. Ellis    }
  H. Bull     }
  S. Riches   } A.B.'s.
  J. Paton    }
  W. Williams }
  G. Bilsby, Carpenter.
  [Lieutenant F. P. Evans, R.N.R., was appointed
    captain for the second voyage to the Antarctic.]

The work of preparation progressed rapidly, and on July 30, 1907, the
_Nimrod_ sailed from the East India Docks on the first stage of the
long journey to New Zealand. On the following day Mr. Reid received a
telegram from the King's equerry, commanding the Nimrod to visit Cowes
in order that the King and Queen might inspect the ship on August 4,
and consequently we proceeded to the Solent, where we anchored.

[Illustration: The Towing Steamer "Koonya" as seen from the
"Nimrod" in a heavy sea. This particular wave came aboard the "Nimrod"
and did considerable damage. (_See page 31_)]


ROYAL VISIT TO THE NIMROD

Their Majesties King Edward and Queen Alexandra, their Royal Highnesses
the Prince of Wales, the Princess Victoria, Prince Edward and the Duke
of Connaught, came on board and inspected the ship, an honour which
was greatly appreciated by the members of the expedition. Her Majesty
graciously entrusted me with a Union Jack to be carried on the southern
journey, and His Majesty graciously conferred on me the Victorian Order.

       *       *       *       *       *

On Wednesday August 7, the ship sailed for New Zealand, and arrived
at Lyttelton--from whence the final departure for the south was to be
made--on November 23. Mr. Reid reached Australian waters a month ahead
of the _Nimrod_, so that he might make necessary arrangements and meet
the Manchurian ponies.



CHAPTER V

WE LEAVE LYTTELTON


By strenuous labour we were in readiness to start from Lyttelton on
New Year's Day, and we were honoured by the Postmaster-General of the
Dominion printing off for us a small issue of special stamps, and
making me a postmaster during my stay in the Antarctic.

The quarters of the scientific staff on board the _Nimrod_ were
certainly small, and as the day of departure approached, Oyster Alley
reached a state of congestion awful to contemplate. The ponies--of
which we finally took away ten known as "Socks," "Queen," "Grisi,"
"Chinaman," "Billy," "Zulu," "Doctor," "Sandy," "Nimrod," and
"Mac"--were carried on deck and ten stout stalls were built for them.
The motor-car was enclosed in a large case and made fast with chains on
the after-hatch whence it could be transferred easily to the ice. Our
deck load, indeed, was so heavy that the _Nimrod_ was low in the water,
and when we left Lyttelton the little ship had only three feet six
inches of freeboard.

In order to save coal I was anxious to have the _Nimrod_ towed south,
and the Government of the Dominion agreed to pay half the cost of the
tow, and Sir James Mills, chairman of the Union Steamship Company,
offered to pay the other half. The _Koonya_, a steel-built steamer of
about 1100 tons, was chartered and placed under the command of Captain
F. P. Evans. The wisdom of this selection was proved by subsequent
events. Before my departure I placed the conduct of the affairs of the
expedition in New Zealand into the hands of Mr. J. J. Kinsey, whose
assistance and advice had already been of great service to me.

January 1, 1908, arrived at last, a warm and clear morning for our last
day in civilisation. Before sunset we were to sever all ties with the
outer world, but we all looked forward eagerly to our coming venture,
for the glamour of the unknown was with us and the south was calling.

All day long the deck of our little vessel was thronged by sight-seers,
who showed the greatest interest in everything connected with the
ship and her equipment. There were many whose criticisms were frankly
pessimistic as to our chances of weathering an Antarctic gale, for the
_Nimrod_ was deep in the water, but we, having confidence in the ship,
were not disturbed by these criticisms.

Oyster Alley was crammed with the personal belongings of at least
fourteen of the shore-party, and if you once got into it the
difficulty of getting out was even greater. The entrance to this
twentieth-century Black Hole was through a narrow doorway and down a
ladder, which ushered one into almost complete darkness. And it was in
this uncomfortable, crowded, murky place that the spirit of romance
grew strong in the heart of George Buckley, until he suddenly jumped up
and asked if I would take him as far as the ice. I was only too glad
to consent, for his interest in the expedition showed that his heart
was in the right place, and his personality had already appealed to
us all. It was then 2 P.M. and the _Nimrod_ sailed at 4 P.M., but in
those two hours he dashed to Christchurch, gave his power of attorney
to a friend, slung a tooth-brush and some underclothing into a bag, and
arrived on board a few minutes before sailing time, equipped for the
most rigorous weather in the world with only the summer suit he was
wearing. Surely a record in the way of joining a polar expedition!

Cheer after cheer broke from the watching thousands as we moved towards
the harbour entrance, and after a most cordial send-off we stopped
to pick up our tow-line from the _Koonya_; and this operation being
completed we signalled the _Koonya_ to go ahead and were soon in the
open sea.

Fortunately we did not know that we were not to take our clothes off
for the next two weeks, and that we were to live in a constant state
of wetness and watchfulness until we arrived in the neighbourhood of
winter quarters. But bad weather was not long delayed, and I was soon
wishing for the splendid modern gear of the _Discovery_, the large,
specially built vessel that we had on the previous expedition.

[Illustration: View of the Great Ice Barrier]

As the wind and sea increased the _Nimrod_ pitched about, shifting
everything that could be moved on deck. The seas began to break over
her, and we were soon wet through, not to be properly dry again for
many days. Our chief anxiety was the care of the ponies, and looking
back now to those days, it remains wonderful to me how they survived
the hardships that fell to their lot.

The _Nimrod_ had--owing to her deeply loaded condition--begun the
voyage like a reluctant child being dragged to school, but as the gale
increased in vehemence she seemed to throw off the sluggishness which
possessed her, when she had found herself outward bound at the end of a
tow-line for the first time in her strenuous life of forty years. Now
that the tow-line was but little use--save to steady us in the furious
gale--the _Nimrod_ began to play her own hand, and marvellously well
did she play it. So furiously did the gale blow that on the morning of
the 5th I told Captain England to signal and ask the _Koonya_ to pour
oil on the water, but although this helped us to a certain extent it
did not prevent the heaviest seas from breaking on board. The _Nimrod_
rolled over fifty degrees from the perpendicular to each side; how
much more than that I cannot say for the indicator was only marked up
to fifty degrees, and the pointer had passed that mark. Under these
circumstances it was but natural that the sturdy ponies had their
strength taxed to the utmost to keep their footing. It was impossible
to sling them, for they were only half-broken, and an attempt to put a
sling under one nearly drove it crazy with fright. On the night of the
5th during an extra heavy roll one of the ponies slipped, and when the
ship rolled the opposite way it turned right over on its back and could
not regain its footing. All our attempts to get "Doctor," as he was
called, upon his legs failed, and regretfully I had to order him to be
shot.




CHAPTER VI

THE ANTARCTIC CIRCLE


The continuous bad weather was attributed by some on board to the
fact that we had captured an albatross on the second day out. It is
generally supposed by seamen to be unlucky to kill this bird, but as
we did it for the purposes of scientific collections and not with
the wantonness of the "Ancient Mariner," the superstitious must seek
another reason for the bad weather.

The storm increased until, by midnight on the 6th, the squalls were
of hurricane force, and the morning of the 7th brought no relief.
Seas came on board with more frequency than ever, finding out any odd
article that had escaped our vigilance. At one time a sack of potatoes
was washed on to the deck and the contents were floating in two or
three feet of water, but standing on the poop I heard one of the crew,
in no way disheartened, singing, as he gathered them up, "Here we go
gathering nuts in May."

On the evening of January 8, the gale was so terrific that we had
to signal to the _Koonya_ to heave to. We did this with the sea on
our starboard quarter, and one enormous wave smashed in part of the
starboard bulwarks and did much--though happily no vital--damage. The
galley was washed out and the fire extinguished, but so pluckily did
the members of the cooking department work that never during this
most uncomfortable time were we without a warm meal. This was really
a great feat considering that the galley was only five feet square,
and thirty-nine persons blessed with very hearty appetites had to be
provided for.

To show what a state we were in I may mention that in the wardroom I
salved a small wooden case from the water, and found that it contained
a patent mixture for extinguishing fires!

At noon on January 11 we were in latitude 57° 38′ South, and longitude
178° 39′ West, but the weather, which had moderated for a day or
two, again became as bad as ever. We had imagined that we might find
difficulty in cleaning out the stables, but the herculean waves settled
that difficulty in a most arbitrary and thorough manner.

On the 13th we had a warmer and pleasanter day than any we had
experienced since leaving Lyttelton, and the whole vessel began to
look like a veritable Petticoat Lane. Pyjamas and pillows of pulp
that had once been pillows of feathers, books and boots, coats and
carpet-slippers were lying in a mass on the poop deck so that they
might dry. A few of us ventured on baths, but in the open air and with
the temperature only two degrees above freezing-point it was chilly
work.

We were now keeping a sharp look-out for icebergs and pack, and the
meeting with the pack-ice was to terminate the _Koonya's_ tow; and that
meant parting with Buckley, who had endeared himself to every one on
board, and who had been of the greatest assistance in the matter of the
ponies.

Next morning, January 14, we sighted our first iceberg. It had all
the usual characteristics of the Antarctic bergs, being practically
tabular in form, and its sides being of a dead white colour. During the
afternoon we passed two more icebergs with their usual tails of brash
ice floating out to leeward. The sea had changed colour from a leaden
blue to a greenish-grey, albatrosses were not nearly so numerous,
and the temperature of the air and water had dropped to 32° Fahr.
Everything pointed to our nearness to the pack, and on the next morning
we saw the ice looming up through the mist to the southward.

[Illustration: Pushing through heavy Floes in the Ross Sea. The
dark line on the Horizon is a "Water Sky," and indicated the Existence
of Open Sea]

Now had come the time for the _Koonya_ to drop us, after a tow of 1510
miles--a record in towage for a vessel not built for the purpose--and
before the _Koonya_ finally cast off from us, she had achieved another
record by being the first steel vessel to cross the Antarctic Circle.

About 10 A.M. I decided to send Captain England across to the _Koonya_
with Buckley and the mail, our letters being stamped with the special
stamp given by the New Zealand Government. As the sea was rising again
we lost no time in making the necessary communication by boat between
the two ships, and during a favourable roll the whale-boat was dropped
into the water, and Buckley--with his week-end handbag--jumped into
her. About a quarter to one Captain Evans signalled that he was going
to cut his hawser, for in the rising sea the two vessels were in
dangerous proximity to each other.

We saw the axe rise and fall, rise and fall again, and the tie was
severed. The _Koonya's_ work was done, and at last the _Nimrod_ was
dependent upon her own resources. Our consort steamed round us, all
hands on both ships cheering; then her bows were set north and she
vanished into a grey, snowy mist, homeward bound. All that afternoon
we unremittingly toiled to get in the cable link by link, and by seven
o'clock we were able to proceed and to put the ship's head due south.

By 2 A.M. on January 16, the bergs were much more numerous, but none of
the ice we passed through at this time had the slightest resemblance to
pack-ice. An hour later we entered an area of tabular bergs, varying
from 80 to 150 ft. in height, and all the morning we steamed in
beautiful weather through the lanes and streets of a wonderful snowy
Venice. The magic of such a scene cannot be described. As far as the
eye could see, great, white, wall-sided bergs stretched east, west
and south, contrasting strikingly with the lanes of blue-black water
between them.

A stillness, weird and uncanny, had fallen upon everything. Here there
was no sign of life, except when one of the little snow petrels,
invisible when flying across the glistening bergs, flashed for a moment
into sight. Beautiful as this scene was it gave me some anxiety, for I
knew that if we were caught in a breeze amidst this maze of floating
ice it would go hard with us. Already an ominous dark cloud was
sweeping down from the north, and I was unfeignedly thankful when, in
the afternoon, I saw open water ahead. After a few more turnings and
twistings we entered the ice-free Ross Sea, this being the first time
a passage had been made into that sea without the vessel being held up
by pack-ice; and I think our success was due to the fact that we were
to the eastward of the pack, which had separated from the land and the
Barrier, and had drifted to the north-west. Indeed all my experience
goes to prove that the easterly route is the best.

Whence these bergs had come is open to conjecture, but I am certain
that this ice had not long left the parent barrier or coast-line, for
there was no sign of weathering on the sides. Our latitude at noon on
the 16th was 68° 6′ South, and the longitude 179° 21′ West.

Before we entered the actual line of bergs a couple of seals, probably
a crabeater and a Weddell seal, appeared on the floe-ice, and a
few Adelie penguins were also seen. The quaint walk and insatiable
curiosity of these birds greatly amused us, and Marston, our artist,
whose sense of the ludicrous is very fully developed, was in ecstasies
at their genuine surprise and profound concern when they saw the ship.

It was fortunate that we cleared the ice during that afternoon, for
shortly afterwards the wind increased, and the weather thickened with
falling snow.




CHAPTER VII

THE ATTEMPT TO REACH KING EDWARD VII LAND


We were now in the Ross Sea, and evidently had avoided the main
pack. Our position at noon (Jan. 17) was 70° 43′ South latitude, and
178° 58′ East longitude, and we were steering a little more westerly so
as to strike the Barrier well to the east of Barrier Inlet, and also to
avoid the heavy pack that previous expeditions had encountered to the
east of meridian 160° West. The snow had now become hard and dry, like
sago--the true Antarctic type, and numbers of Antarctic petrels circled
round and round the ship.

We were now revelling in the indescribable freshness of the Antarctic
that seems to permeate one's being, and which must be responsible
for that longing to go again which assails each returned explorer
from polar regions. On the morning of the 23rd we saw some very large
icebergs, which were evidently great masses broken off the Barrier,
and we were keeping a sharp look-out for the Barrier itself. The
thermometer registered some twelve degrees of frost, but the wind was
so dry that we scarcely felt the cold.

[Illustration: Flight of Antarctic Petrels]

At 9.30 A.M. on the 23rd a low straight line appeared ahead of the
ship. It was the Barrier. After half an hour it disappeared, but by
eleven o'clock the straight line stretching east and west was in full
view and we rapidly approached it. I had hoped to make the Barrier
about the position of what we call the Western Bight, and at noon
we could see a point which was obviously the eastern limit of the
Western Bight. Soon afterwards we were within a quarter of a mile of
the ice-face, and exclamations of wonder at the stupendous bulk of the
Barrier were drawn from those who had not seen it before.

Looking at the Barrier from some little distance, one would imagine it
to be a perfectly even wall of ice; when steaming along parallel with
it, however, the impression it gave was that of a series of points,
each of which looked as though it might be the horn of a bay. Then when
the ship came abeam of it, one would see that the wall only receded
for a few hundred yards, and afterwards new points came into view as
the ship moved on. The weather continued fine and calm, and there was
absolutely no sign of the strong westerly current along the Barrier
which we had always encountered during the voyage of the _Discovery_.

About midnight we suddenly came to the end of a very high portion of
the Barrier, and entered a wide shallow bay which must have been the
inlet where Borchgrevink landed in 1900, but it had changed greatly
since that time. About half a mile down this bay we reached fast ice.
It was about half-past twelve at night, and the southerly sun shone in
our faces.

To the east rose a long snow slope which cut the horizon at the
height of about 300 ft. It had every appearance of ice-covered land
but we could not stop to make certain, for the heavy ice lying to the
northward of us was setting down into the bay, and if we were not
to be beset it was necessary to get away at once. All round us were
numbers of great whales showing their dorsal fins as they occasionally
sounded, so we named this playground for these monsters "The Bay of
Whales."

As it was impossible to work to the eastward, we struck northwards
through an open lead and came south to the Barrier again about 2
A.M. on the 24th. Then we coasted eastward along the wall of ice,
always looking out for the inlet. The lashings had been taken off
the motor-car, and the tackle rigged to hoist it out directly we got
alongside the ice-foot, to which the _Discovery_ had been moored. For
in Barrier Inlet we proposed to place our winter quarters.

I had decided on this inlet because I knew that it was practically the
beginning of King Edward VII Land, and that the actual bare land was
within an easy sledge journey of that place, and it also had the great
advantage of being some ninety miles nearer to the South Pole than any
other spot that could be reached with the ship. A further important
reason was that it would be an easy matter for the ship on its return
to reach this part of the Barrier, whereas King Edward VII Land itself
might quite possibly be unattainable if the season was adverse.

However the best-laid schemes often prove impracticable in polar
exploration, and within a few hours our first plan was found impossible
to fulfil, for the very sufficient reason that the inlet had
disappeared. Great disappointment as this was to us, we were thankful
that the Barrier had broken away before we had made our camp upon it.
The thought of what might have happened made me decide then and there
that, under no circumstances, would I winter on the Barrier, and that
wherever we landed we would secure a solid rock foundation for our
winter home.

We had two strings to our bow and I resolved to use the second and push
forward towards King Edward VII Land. The ship was headed eastward,
again keeping a few hundred yards off the Barrier, for here the cliff
was overhung and a fall of ice would assuredly have been disastrous to
us. Soon, however, I saw that we could not make much easting in this
way, for by 10 A.M. on the 24th we were close to the pack and found
that it was pressed hard against the Barrier edge; and, what was worse,
the whole of the northern pack and bergs at this spot were drifting in
towards the Barrier.

The seriousness of this situation can be realised by the reader if he
imagines that he is in a small boat right under the vertical white
cliffs of Dover; that detached cliffs are moving in from seaward slowly
but surely with resistless power and force, and that it will only be
a question of perhaps an hour or two before the two masses come into
contact, and crush his tiny craft as they meet.

There was nothing for it but to retrace our steps, and by steaming hard
and working in and out of the looser floes, we just managed to pass
the point with barely fifty yards of open water to spare between the
Barrier and the pack.

I breathed more freely when we passed this zone of Immediate danger,
for there were two or three hundred yards of clear water now between
us and the pack, and after skirting along the seaward edge we came to
the high cliff of ice at the westerly end, and passed safely out of the
bay.

[Illustration: "Nimrod" moored off Tabular Bergs. (_See page 14_)]

We then continued to the westward until in the evening the ship's
head was put north and we gained a fairly open sea. It is, however,
remarkable how limited is one's horizon at sea, for although there
appeared to be open water for an indefinite distance we were soon up
against rigid ice again. The fact is that low pack-ice is not visible
at any great distance, and that one cannot trust an appearance of open
water. All night long we tried to penetrate to the east, practically
doubling in our tracks before we were able to pursue the direction we
wished to follow.

By noon on January 25 I found that any hopes I had of a clear run were
vain, and the prospect of reaching King Edward VII Land grew remoter
every ensuing hour. Indeed it seemed impossible to reach the land,
and the shortness of coal, the leaky condition of the ship, and the
necessity of landing all our stores and putting up the hut before the
vessel left us, made the situation an extremely anxious one. I had not
expected to find Barrier Inlet gone, and, at the same time, the way
to King Edward VII Land absolutely blocked by ice, though the latter
condition was not unusual.

I decided to continue to try and make a way to the east for at least
another twenty-four hours, but when we saw the western pack moving
rapidly towards us under the influence of the wind, and that it was
most probable that we should be inextricably caught for days or even
weeks in this great mass, I reluctantly gave orders to turn the ship
and make full speed out of this dangerous situation.

Under the circumstances I could see nothing for it except to steer
for McMurdo Sound and there make our winter quarters, though I would
greatly have preferred to land at King Edward VII Land, because
that region was quite unknown and we could have added greatly to
the geographical knowledge of it. However the forces of these
uncontrollable ice-packs are stronger than human resolution, and a
change of plan was forced upon us.

After more trouble with the ice we worked into clearer water and the
course was set for McMurdo Sound, where we arrived on January 29 to
find that some twenty miles of frozen ice separated us from Hut Point.
I decided to lie off the ice-foot for some days in the hope that Nature
might break up the ice intervening between us and our goal.

So far the voyage had been without accident to any of the staff, but
unfortunately on the 31st Mackintosh was struck in the right eye by
a hook, and the eye had to be removed by Marshall, assisted by the
other two doctors, Michell and Mackay. Keenly as Mackintosh felt the
loss of his eye, his great sorrow was that he would not be able to
remain with us in the Antarctic. He begged to stay, but when Marshall
explained that he might lose the sight of his other eye he accepted his
ill-fortune without demur.

While waiting at the ice I sent a small party--consisting of Adams,
Joyce and Wild--to Hut Point to report on the condition of the hut left
there by the _Discovery_ expedition in 1904, and on their return Adams
reported that the hut was practically clear of snow and the structure
intact.

On February 3 I decided to wait no longer, but to seek for winter
quarters on the east coast of Ross Island; so we started toward Cape
Barne on the look-out for a suitable landing-place. Steaming slowly
north along the coast we saw across the bay a long, low snow slope
connected with the bare rock of Cape Royds, which seemed a suitable
place for winter-quarters.

About eight o'clock I left the ship in a boat, accompanied by Adams and
Wild, and we used the hand-lead at frequent intervals until we came
to fast ice. This covered the whole of the small bay from the corner
of Flagstaff Point (as we afterwards named the seaward cliff at the
southern end of Cape Royds) to Cape Barne to the southward. Close up
to the Point the ice had broken out, leaving a little natural dock
into which we ran the boat, and hundreds of Adelie penguins greeted
Adams and me with hoarse squawks of excitement as we landed. I was soon
satisfied that Cape Royds would be an excellent place at which to land
our stores, and after taking soundings we pulled out towards the ship
which had slowly been coming in. We were pulling along at a good rate
when suddenly a heavy body shot out of the water, struck the seaman who
was pulling stroke, and dropped with a thud to the bottom of the boat.
The arrival was an Adelie penguin, which had doubtless thought it was
jumping on to a rock, and it would be difficult to say whether the bird
or we were the more astonished.

By 10 P.M. on February 3, the _Nimrod_ was moored to the bay ice, and
as soon as she was secured I went ashore accompanied by Professor
David, England, and Dunlop, to choose a place for building the hut, and
up a small valley we soon found an ideal spot for our winter quarters.

The floor of this valley was almost level and covered with a couple of
feet of volcanic earth, and there was room not only for the hut itself,
but also for the stores and for a stable for the ponies. A hill behind
this valley served as an excellent protection from the prevailing
strong south-easterly wind, and a number of seals lying on the bay ice
gave promise of a plentiful supply of fresh meat.

[Illustration: Adelie Penguins at Cape Royds. (_See page 44_)]

With this ideal situation and everything else satisfactory, including
a supply of water from a lake right in front of our valley, I decided
that we had better start to get our gear ashore at once.




CHAPTER VIII

THE LANDING OF STORES AND EQUIPMENT


We now started upon a fortnight full of more checks and worries
than I or any other member of the expedition had ever experienced.
Nevertheless, in face of most trying conditions, the whole party turned
to late and early with whole-hearted devotion and cheerful readiness.

The ponies gave us cause for the most anxiety, because in their
half-broken and nervous condition it would have been practically
impossible to land them in boats. Finally we decided to build a rough
horse-box, get them into this, and then sling it over the side by means
of the main gaff. By 3.30 A.M. on the morning of the 6th we had got all
the ponies ashore, and they immediately began to paw the snow as they
were wont to do in their own far-away Manchurian home.

The poor ponies were naturally stiff after their constant buffetings,
but they negotiated the tide-crack all right, and were soon picketed
on some bare earth at the entrance to a valley, which lay about fifty
yards from the site of our hut. We thought this a good place, but in
the future the selection was to cost us dear.

The tide-crack played an important part in connection with the landing
of the stores. In the polar regions, both north and south, when the
sea is frozen, there always appears between the fast ice, which is the
ice attached to the land, and the sea ice, a crack which is due to the
sea ice moving up and down with the rise and fall of the tide. When
the bottom of the sea slopes gradually from the land, sometimes two or
three tide-cracks appear running parallel to each other. When no more
tide-cracks can be seen landwards, the ice-foot has always been thought
to be permanently joined to the land, and in our case this opinion was
strengthened by the fact that our soundings in the tide-crack shoved
that the ice-foot on the landward side of it must be aground.

I have explained this fully, for it was only after considering these
points that I, for convenience's sake, landed the bulk of the stores
below the bare rocks on what I thought was the permanent snow-slope.

On the morning of February 6 we started work with sledges, hauling
provisions and pieces of the hut to the shore. On the previous night
the foundation posts of the hut had been sunk and frozen into the
ground with a cement composed of volcanic earth and water, and the
digging of the foundations had proved extremely hard work.

Now that the ponies were ashore it was necessary to have a party living
on shore to look after them, and the first shore-party consisted
of Adams, Marston, Brocklehurst, Mackay and Murray. Two tents were
set up close to the hut, with the usual sledging requisites such as
sleeping-bags, cookers, &c. The first things landed this day were
fodder for the ponies, and sufficient petroleum and provisions for the
shore-party in case the ship had to put suddenly to sea owing to bad
weather.

The work of hauling the sledge-loads right up to the land was so heavy,
that I decided to let the stores remain on the snow slope beyond the
tide-crack, whence they could be taken at leisure. Our attempt to
substitute mechanical haulage for man haulage was not successful, and
we soon had to go back to our original plan.

Delays at once occurred, for during the afternoon of the 6th a fresh
breeze sprung up, and the ship had to stand out to the fast ice in the
strait and anchor there. Thus two valuable working days were lost.

When, however, I went ashore again I found that the little shore-party
had not only managed to get all the heavy timber that had been
landed up to the site of the hut, but also had stacked the cases of
provisions, which previously had been lying on the snow slope, upon
bare land. While we were engaged on the increasingly difficult task of
landing stores, &c., the hut-party were working day and night and the
building was rapidly assuming an appearance of solidity. The uprights
were in and the brace ties were fastened together, so that if it began
to blow there was small fear of the structure being destroyed. This was
something to be thankful for, but while the hut-party were getting on
so well, we who were engaged on landing the stores had--owing to the
breaking away of the ice--to move our spot.

The stores had now to be dragged a distance of nearly three hundred
yards from the ship to the landing-place, but this work was made easier
by our being able to use four of the ponies. A large amount of stores
was landed in this way, but a new and serious situation arose through
the breaking away of the main ice-foot. Prudence suggested that it
would be wiser to shift the stores already landed to a safer place
before discharging any more from the ship, and on this work we were
engaged during the evening of the 10th.

[Illustration: The "Nimrod" lying off the Penguin Rookery, Cape
Royds]

Next we had to find a safer place on which to land the rest of the coal
and stores, and Back Door Bay, as we named the chosen spot, became our
new depot. This was a still longer journey from the ship, but there was
no help for it, and after laying a tarpaulin on the rocks to keep the
coal from mixing with the earth, we started landing the coal.

By this time there were several ugly looking cracks in the bay ice, and
these kept opening and closing, having a play of seven or eight inches
between the floes. We improvised bridges, from the motor-car case, so
that the ponies could cross the cracks, and presently were well under
way with the work.

Then there was a most alarming occurrence, for suddenly and without
the slightest warning the greater part of the bay ice opened out into
floes, and the whole mass that had opened started to drift slowly out
to sea. The ponies on the ice were at once in a perilous position, but
the sailors rushed to loosen the one tied to the stern rope and got
it over the first crack, and Armytage also got the pony which he was
looking after from the floe nearest the ship on to the next floe.

Just, however, at that moment, Mackay appeared round the corner from
Back Door Bay with a third pony attached to an empty sledge, on his way
back to the ship to load up. Orders were shouted to him not to come
any further, but not at first grasping the situation he continued to
advance over the ice, which was already breaking away more rapidly.

When he realised what had occurred he left his sledge and pony, and
rushed towards the place where the other two ponies were adrift on the
ice, and, by jumping the widening cracks, he reached the moving floe on
which they were standing. This piece of ice gradually grew closer to a
larger piece, from which the animals would be able to gain a place of
safety. But when Mackay started to try to get the pony Chinaman across
the crack where it was only six inches wide, the pony took fright,
and rearing and backing towards the edge of the floe, which had at
that moment opened to a width of a few feet, he fell bodily into the
ice-cold water.

It looked indeed as if it was all over with poor Chinaman, but Mackay
hung on to the head rope, and Davis, Michell and Mawson rushed to his
assistance. After great difficulty a rope sling was passed underneath
Chinaman, and he was lifted up far enough to enable him to scramble on
to the ice.

A few seconds later the floe closed up against the other one, and it
was providential that it had not done so while the pony was in the
water, for in that case Chinaman would inevitably have been squeezed to
death. As it was he lived to help us very materially on another--and
more critical--day. The ship was now employed to push the floe back
against the fast ice, and directly this was accomplished the ponies
were rushed across and taken straight ashore, and the men who were on
the different floes took advantage of the temporary closing of the
crack to get themselves and the stores into safety.

As soon as the ship was backed out the loose floes began to drift away
to the west, and after this narrow escape I resolved not to risk the
ponies on the sea ice again. The breaking of the ice continued to give
us great cause for anxiety, and we had a narrow escape from losing our
cases of scientific instruments and a large quantity of fodder. Had we
lost these cases a great part of our scientific work could not have
been carried out, and the loss of the fodder would have meant also the
loss of the ponies.

We were handicapped too by such a heavy swell running on the 13th
that no stores could be landed. This swell would have been welcome a
fortnight before, for it would have broken up a large amount of fast
ice to the south, and I could not help thinking that at this date there
was open water up to Hut Point. Now, however, it was most unfortunate
for us, as precious time was passing, and still more precious coal was
being used by the continual working of the ship's engines.




CHAPTER IX

THE _NIMROD_ LEAVES US


As the swell continued during the following day, I signalled England to
go to Glacier Tongue and land a depot there. Glacier Tongue lies about
eight miles north of Hut Point and about thirteen to the southward
of Cape Royds, and by landing a quantity of sledging stores there we
should be saved several miles of haulage.

Although we were busy in building the hut, and in one way and another
had plenty of employment, I was disappointed at not being able to
continue landing the stores until the 16th. And here I should like
to mention the cheerful assistance which we always received from the
officers and crew of the _Nimrod_. They had nothing but hard work
and discomfort from the beginning of the voyage, and yet they worked
splendidly and were invariably in good spirits.

Naturally Captain England was anxious to get the ship away, and also
much concerned about the shrinkage of the coal-supply, but it was
impossible to let her leave until the wintering party had received
their coal from her. The weather was quite fine, and if it had not been
for the swell we could have got through a great deal of work.

[Illustration: The Ponies transporting Coal on Sledges at Back Door
Bay.

(See page 50)]

According to our experiences on the last expedition, the latest date to
which it would be safe to keep the Nimrod would be the end of February,
for the young ice forming about that time on the sound would seriously
hamper her from getting clear of the Ross Sea.

On the 17th and 18th we contrived to land a considerable quantity
of coal, equipment and stores, but soon after five o'clock on the
afternoon of the 18th a furious blizzard was blowing, and the _Nimrod_
stood off from the shore but could make little headway against the
terrific wind and short-rising sea.

I was aboard the vessel at the time, and the speed of the gusts must
have approached a force of a hundred miles an hour. The tops of the
seas were cut off by the wind, and flung over the decks, mast, and
rigging of the ship, congealing at once into hard ice, and the sides of
the vessel were thick with the frozen sea water.

    "The masts were grey with the frozen spray,
     And the bows were a coat of mail."

Very soon the cases and sledges lying on deck were hard and fast in
a sheet of solid ice, and Harbord, who was the officer on watch, on
whistling to call the crew aft, found that the metal whistle stuck to
his lips, a painful proof of the low temperature.

The gale raged on for days and nights, and about midnight on the 21st
the _Nimrod_ shipped a heavy sea, and all the release-water ports and
scupper holes being blocked with ice, the water had no means of exit,
and began to freeze on deck, where, already, there was a layer of ice
over a foot in thickness. Any more weight like this would have made the
ship unmanageable.

As the ropes, already covered with ice, would have frozen into a solid
mass, we were forced to take the drastic step of breaking holes in
the bulwarks to allow the water to escape; and only by dint of great
exertions did Davis and Harbord perform this feat.

It was a sight to see Harbord, held by his legs, hanging over the
starboard side of the _Nimrod_, and wielding a heavy axe; while Davis,
whose length of limb enabled him to lean over without being held, did
the same on the other. The temperature at the time was several degrees
below zero, and the wind was as strong as that which we had experienced
in the gales after we had left New Zealand; though the waves were not
so huge as those which had the whole run of the Southern Ocean in which
to gather strength to buffet us.

At 2 A.M. the weather suddenly cleared, and we were able to discover
that in spite of our efforts to keep our position, the wind and current
had driven us over thirty miles to the north. As, however, the sea was
rapidly decreasing we were at last able to steam straight for Cape
Royds.

Arriving ashore early in the morning I rejoiced to see that the hut was
still intact, but the report I received as regards the warmth of it was
not reassuring, because, in spite of the stove being alight the whole
time, no heat was given off. This eccentric conduct of the stove was a
grave matter, for on its efficiency depended not only our comfort but
our very existence. The shore-party had experienced a terrific gale,
and the hut had trembled and shaken so much and so constantly that I
doubt if with a less admirable situation we should have had a hut at
all after the gale.

On going down to our main landing-place the full effect of the blizzard
was apparent, for hardly a sign of the greater part of our stores was
to be seen. Such had been the force of the wind blowing straight on
to the shore that spray had been flung in sheets over everything, and
had been carried by the wind for nearly a quarter of a mile inland.
Consequently, in places, our precious stores lay buried to a depth of
five or six feet in a mass of frozen sea water.

We feared that it would take weeks of work to get the stores clear of
the ice, and also that the salt-water would have damaged the fodder.
However there was no time then to do anything to release the stores
from the ice, for the most important thing was to get the remainder of
coal ashore and send the ship north.

Before 10 P.M. on February 22 the final boatload of coal arrived, and
as we had in all only about eighteen tons, the strictest economy would
be needed to make this amount spin out until the sledging parties began
in the following spring.

We gave our final letters and messages to the crew of the last boat,
and said good-bye. And at 10 P.M. the Nimrod's bows were pointed to the
north, and she was moving rapidly away from the winter quarters with a
fair wind.

We were all devoutly thankful that the landing of the stores had at
length been finished and that the state of the sea would no longer be a
factor in our work, but it was with something of a pang that we severed
our connection with the world of men. We could hope for no word of news
from civilisation until the _Nimrod_ came south again in the following
summer, and before that we had a good deal of difficult work to do and
some risks to face.

[Illustration: Digging out Stores after the Cases had been buried
in Ice during a Blizzard. (_See page 58_)]

There was, however, scant time for reflection, even if we had been
moved that way, and after a good night's rest we started digging the
stores out of the ice, and transporting everything to the vicinity of
the hut.

As soon as the stores were in position we hoped to make a start with
the scientific observations that were to be an important part of the
work of the expedition.




CHAPTER X

WINTER QUARTERS AT CAPE ROYDS OUTSIDE


The next few days were spent in using pick, shovel and iron crowbars
on the envelope of ice that covered our cases, corners of which only
peeped from the mass.

The whole looked like a huge piece of the sweet known as almond rock,
and it was as difficult to get our cases clear of the ice as it is to
separate almonds from that sticky conglomerate without injury. In this
strenuous labour, however, there was some humour, for Brocklehurst,
who took great interest in the recovery of the chocolate, spent his
energies in rescuing one particular case which had been covered with
ice.

Having rescued it he carried it up to the hut to be sure of its safety,
and was greeted with joy by the Professor, who recognised in the load
some of his scientific instruments which were playing the part of the
cuckoo in an old chocolate box. Needless to say Brocklehurst's joy was
not as heartfelt as the Professor's.

We were now using the ponies, and within ten days after the departure
of the ship we had practically everything handy to the hut, excepting
the coal. Permanently we had not lost very much, but we do know that
our one case of beer lies to this day under the ice, and some volumes
of the Challenger reports, which had been intended to provide us with
useful reading matter during the winter nights, were only dug out a few
days before our final departure.

Most of us at one time or another had wounds and bruises to be attended
to by Marshall, and the annoying feature of these simple wounds was the
length of time it took in our special circumstances for them to heal.

The day after the ship left we laid in a supply of fresh meat for
the winter, killing about a hundred penguins and burying them in
a snow-drift close to the hut. By February 28 we were practically
in a position to feel contented with ourselves, and to explore the
neighbourhood of our winter quarters (See sketch, page 61).

From the door of our hut which faced north-west, we had a splendid view
of the Sound and the western mountains. Right in front of us lay a
small lake which came to be known as Pony Lake, and to the left of that
was another sheet of ice that became snow-covered in autumn, and here
in the dark months we exercised both the ponies and ourselves.

Six times up and down the "Green Park," as we called it, made a mile,
and it was here before darkness fell upon us that we played hockey and
football.

To the left of Green Park was a gentle slope leading down between two
cliffs to the sea, and ending in a little bay known as Dead Horse Bay,
and on either side of this valley lay the penguin rookery.

On coming out of the hut we had only to go round the corner of the
building to catch a glimpse of Mount Erebus, which lay directly behind
us. Its summit was about fifteen miles from our quarters, but its
slopes and foothills began within three-quarters of a mile of the hut.

Our view was cut off from the east to south-west by the ridge at the
head of the valley where the hut stood, but on ascending this ridge we
looked over the bay to the south-east, where lay Cape Barne. To the
right was Flagstaff Point.

There were many localities which became favourite places for walks,
and these are shown on the plan (page 61). Sandy Beach was generally
the goal of any one taking exercise, when uncertain weather warned us
against venturing further, and while the dwindling light allowed us
to go so far. Here we sometimes exercised the ponies, and they much
enjoyed rolling in the soft sand.

As regards the interest and scenery of our winter quarters we were
infinitely better off than the expedition which wintered in McMurdo
Sound between 1901 and 1904, and as a field of work for geologists
and biologists Cape Royds far surpassed Hut Point. The Professor and
Priestley saw open before them a new chapter of geological history, for
Murray the lakes were a fruitful field for new research. Adams, the
meteorologist, could not complain, for Mount Erebus was in full view of
the meteorological station, and this fortunate proximity to Erebus and
its smoke-cloud led, in a large measure, to important results in this
branch. Mawson made the study of ice part of his work, and from every
point of view I must say we were extremely fortunate in the winter
quarters to which the state of the ice had led us.

Before we had been ten days ashore the hut was practically completed,
though it was over a month before it attained the very fully furnished
appearance which it assumed after every one had arranged his
belongings. It was not a spacious dwelling for fifteen persons, but if
the hut had been larger we should not have been so warm.

[Illustration: Winter Quarters. (_See page 59_)]

At first the coldest part of the house was undoubtedly the floor,
which was formed of inch tongue-and-groove: boarding, but was not
double-lined. There was a space of about four feet under the hut at
one end, and as the other rested almost on the ground it was obvious
to us that as long as this space remained we should suffer from the
cold. So we decided to make an airlock of the area under the hut, and
to this end we built a wall with the bulk of provision cases round the
south-east and southerly sides, which were to windward.

On either side of the porch two other buildings were gradually erected.
One, built out of biscuit cases, the roof covered with felt and
canvas, was a store-room for Wild, who looked after the issue of all
food-stuffs. The building on the other side was far more elaborate, and
was built by Mawson to serve as a chemical and physical laboratory.
It was destined, however, to serve solely as a store-room, for the
temperature inside was so nearly the same as that outside, that the
moist atmosphere rushing from the hut covered everything inside this
store-room with fantastic ice crystals.

The lee side of the hut ultimately became the wall of the stables,
for we decided to keep the ponies sheltered for the winter. However
the first night they were stabled none of us had much rest, and some
of them broke loose and returned to their valley. Shortly afterwards
Grisi, one of the most high-spirited of the lot, pushed his head
through a window, so the lower halves of the hut windows had to be
boarded up.

In a store-room built on the south-east of the hut we kept the
tool-chest, the shoe-maker's outfit which was in constant requisition,
and any general stores that had to be issued at stated times. But the
first blizzard found out this place, and after the roof had been blown
off the wall fell down. When the weather was fine again we organised
a party to search for such things as mufflers, woollen helmets and
so on, and I found a Russian felt boot, weighing five pounds, lying
three-quarters of a mile from the crate in which it had been stowed.
For the whole of this distance it must have had a clear run in the air,
for there was not a scratch on the leather.

The dog kennels were placed close to the porch of the hut, and the
meteorological station was on the weather side on the top of a
small ridge. Adams was responsible for this, and as readings of the
instruments were to be taken day and night at intervals of two hours,
and as in thick weather the man trying to go between hut and screen
might possibly lose his way, a line was rigged up on posts which were
cemented into the ground by ice.




CHAPTER XI

WINTER QUARTERS INSIDE


As regards the inside of the hut the first thing done was to peg out
a space for each individual, and we saw that the best plan would be
to have the space allotted in sections, allowing two men to share one
cubicle. This space for two men amounted to six feet six inches in
length and seven feet in depth from the wall of the hut towards the
centre.

There were seven of these cubicles, and a space for the leader of the
expedition; thus providing for the fifteen who made up the shore party.

One of the most important parts of the interior construction was the
dark-room for the photographers, and as we were very short of wood
we used cases of bottled fruit to build the walls. The dark-room was
built in the left-hand corner of the hut as one entered, and the cases
were turned with their lids facing out, so that the contents could be
removed without the walls being demolished. The interior of the room
was fitted up by Mawson and the Professor, and as Mawson made the
fittings complete in every detail, the result was as good as any one
under the conditions could desire.

Opposite the dark-room was my room, six feet long, seven feet deep,
built of boards and roofed, the roof being seven feet above the floor.
The bed-place was made of fruit-boxes, which, when emptied, served,
like those outside, for lockers. My room contained the bulk of our
library, the chronometers, chronometer watches, &c., and there was
ample room for a table. The whole made a most comfortable cabin.

We set up the acetylene gas-plant on a platform between my room and the
dark-room, for our efforts to work it from the porch had failed owing
to the lowness of the temperature. The simplicity and portability of
this apparatus and the high efficiency of the light represented the
height of luxury under polar conditions. The only objectionable feature
was the unpleasant smell when the carbide tanks were being recharged,
but although we were soon used to this, the daily charging always drew
down strong remarks on the unlucky head of Day, who was responsible for
the acetylene plant.

As during the winter months the inside of the hut was the whole
inhabited world to us, some of the distinctive features of our
furnishing may be worthy of mention. The wall of Adams' and Marshall's
cubicle, which was next to mine, was fitted with shelves made from
Venesta cases, and this apartment was so neat and orderly that it was
known by the address "No. 1 Park Lane." The beds of this particular
cubicle consisted of bamboos lashed together for extra strength, to
which strips of canvas were attached, so that each bed looked like a
stretcher. These beds took a little longer than the others to rig up
at night, but this disadvantage was more than compensated for by the
free space gained during the day. The wall end rested on stout cleats
screwed on to the side of the hut, the other end on chairs, and so
supported, the occupant slept very comfortably.

[Illustration: The First Slopes of Erebus. (_See page 82_)]

The dividing curtain between this cubicle and the next--occupied by
Marston and Day--had been adorned with life-sized coloured drawings of
Napoleon and Joan of Arc, and as the colour of Joan and also portions
of Napoleon oozed through, the curtain on Marston's side did not
require to be decorated! This cubicle was known as "The Gables," and
in it was set up the lithographic press. The beds were solid wood, and
as Marston was the artist and Day the handy man of the expedition one
naturally found an ambitious scheme of decoration.

The next cubicle on the same side belonged to Armytage and
Brocklehurst, where everything in the way of shelves and fittings was
very primitive, and next to this cubicle came the pantry.

Beyond the stove, facing the pantry, was Mackay and Roberts' cubicle,
the main feature of which was a ponderous shelf, on which socks and
other light articles chiefly rested, the only thing of weight being our
gramophone and records.

Between this cubicle and the next there was no division, neither
party troubling to put one up. The result was that the four men were
constantly at war regarding encroachments on their ground. Priestley,
who was long-suffering, and who occupied the cubicle with Murray, said
he did not mind a chair or a volume of the "Encyclopædia Britannica"
being occasionally deposited upon him while asleep, but that he
drew the line at wet and dirty boots. This cubicle was garnished on
Priestley's side with bits of rock, ice-axes &c. and on Murray's with
biological requisites.

The next cubicle was occupied by Wild and Joyce, and was known as
the "Rogues' Retreat," a painting of two very tough characters, with
the inscription The Rogues' Retreat painted underneath, adorning the
entrance to the den. The couches in this house were the first to be
built, and the first bed was made in Wild's store-room for secrecy's
sake. It was to burst suddenly upon every one and to create feelings
of admiration and envy. Unfortunately, however, in building it he had
forgotten the size of the doorway through which it had to be taken, and
it had ignominiously to be sawn in half before it could be passed out
of the store-room into the hut.

The last compartment was the dwelling-place of the Professor and
Mawson, and it would be difficult to do justice to the picturesque
confusion of this cubicle. A miscellaneous assortment of cameras,
spectroscopes, microscopes and the like lay in profusion on the
blankets. Everything in the way of tin cans was collected by these two
scientific men, and the Professor made a pile of glittering tins and
coloured wrappers at one end of his bunk, and the heap looked like the
nest of the Australian bower bird.

The name given, though not by the owners, to this cubicle was "The Pawn
Shop."

In order to give as much free space as possible in the centre of the
hut, the table was so arranged that it could be hoisted over our heads
after meals were over. At first we put the boxes containing knives,
plates &c. on top of the table before hauling it up, but after these
had fallen on the head of the unlucky man trying to get them down, we
were content to keep them on the floor.

After hearing that the stove had failed to work during the blizzard
which had kept me on board the _Nimrod_, I was very anxious about it.
My anxiety, however, was dispelled after the stove had been taken to
pieces, and it was found that eight important pieces of its structure
had not been put in. As soon as this more than trifling omission was
rectified the stove worked magnificently, and as it was kept going day
and night for over nine months without once being put out for more than
ten minutes, it was severely tested.

Looking back to those distant days, it seems strange to me now that we
should have taken so much trouble to furnish and beautify what after
all was to be but a temporary home. Nevertheless it represented all
the world to its inhabitants, and so we tried to make it as bright and
cheerful a spot as possible.

Divine service was held in the hut on Sundays during the winter months.




CHAPTER XII

SLEDGING EQUIPMENT


The sledge which we used is the outcome of the experience of many
former explorers, but to Nansen is the chief credit that it has become
such a very useful vehicle.

Our experience on the _Discovery_ expedition had convinced me that
the eleven-foot sledge is the best for all-round use, but I took with
me some twelve-foot sledges as being possibly more suitable for pony
traction. A good sledge for Antarctic or Arctic travelling must be
rigid in its upright and cross-bars, and yet give to uneven surfaces. A
well-constructed sledge needs to be supple without interfering with the
strength of the structure, and in our case there was nothing wanting in
this respect.

[Illustration: Marston in his Bed. (_See page 66_)]

The wooden runners were about four inches wide and made of hickory, and
in pulling the sledge the direction of the grain on the snow surface
has to be observed, for it is wonderful what a difference it makes
whether one is pulling with or against the grain of the runner.

The second point to consider is the height of the framework of the
sledge above the surface of the snow, and as it has been found that
a clearance of six inches is ample in ordinary circumstances, the
uprights of our sledges were only about six inches high.

An eleven-foot sledge, fully loaded, is at its best working weight with
about 650 lb. on it, but this does not represent its actual strength
capacity, for while we were unloading the ship we often placed over a
thousand pounds' weight on a sledge without damaging it in the least.

Another vitally important article of equipment for the polar explorer
is the cooker and cooking-stove, and here again we were indebted to the
practical genius of Nansen who designed the form of cooker that is now
invariably used in polar work. The stove was the ordinary "primus,"
burning kerosene, vapourised in the usual way.

Such was the efficiency of the cooker and stove that, in a temperature
of forty or fifty degrees below zero, the snow or ice, which would be
at this temperature, could be melted and a hot meal prepared within
half an hour from the time the cooker was placed on the primus. The
whole apparatus, including the primus, did not weigh more than fifteen
pounds.

The next important item was the tent, and as the usual unit for
sledging consists of three men, our tents were designed to contain that
number. The tent cloth was thin Willesden duck, with a "snow-cloth"
of thicker material round the lower edge, and instead of a single
tent-pole we used five bamboo rods fastened together at one end in a
cap, over which the apex of the tent fitted. Inside the tent was placed
on the snow a circle of thick Willesden water-proof canvas to protect
the sleeping-bags from actual contact with the ground.

It has been generally assumed by polar explorers that sledge travellers
must wrap themselves up in furs, but my experience during two
expeditions convinces me that except for the hands and feet in the
way of personal clothing, and the sleeping-bags for camping, furs are
unnecessary. The term "bag" literally describes this portion of the
sledging gear, for it is a long bag with closely sewn seams, and is
entered by means of a slit at the upper end.

The appetite of a man who has just come to camp after a five-hours'
march in a low temperature is something that the ordinary individual at
home might possibly envy but would scarcely understand, and, indeed,
the sledger himself is sometimes surprised when his ration is finished,
and he feels just about as hungry as before his meal.

In choosing supplies I tried to provide those of heat-giving and
flesh-forming materials, and to avoid foods containing a large amount
of moisture. Our cuisine was not varied, but a voracious appetite has
no nice discernment, indeed all one wants is more, and this is just
what cannot be allowed if a party is to proceed a great distance while
confined to man-haulage. It is hard for a hungry man to rest content
with the knowledge that the food he is eating is sufficient for his
needs, when he does not feel satisfied after his meal and the aching
void has not even temporarily disappeared.

Pemmican, which consists of the finest beef powdered with 60 per cent,
of fat added was one of the main items of our food supply, and biscuits
are also a standard food in polar work.

I secured thicker biscuits than were used in the previous expedition,
and the Plasmon Company supplied a ton of the best wholemeal biscuit,
and with an allowance of one pound for each man per day we were as
regards farinaceous food considerably better off than those on the
_Discovery_ expedition had been.

This allowance, I may mention, was reduced very considerably when food
began to run short on the southern and northern journeys, but we had
no fault to find with the quality of the biscuits and the addition of
Plasmon certainly increased their food-value.

Tea and cocoa were chosen as our beverages for use on the march, tea
for breakfast and lunch; and cocoa, which tends to produce sleepiness,
for dinner at night. Sugar is a very valuable heat-forming substance,
and our allowance of this amounted to about a third of a pound per day
for each man.

We also took chocolate, cheese, and oatmeal, so that although there was
not much variety we felt that we were getting the most nutritious food
possible.

I have already mentioned the clothing which I bought for the
expedition, but as regards the most effective head-gear there were
marked differences of opinion. The general method, however, of keeping
head and ears warm was to wrap a woollen muffler twice round the chin
and head, thus protecting the ears which are the first parts of the
body to show signs of frost-bite. The muffler was then brought round
the neck, and over the muffler was pulled a fleecy travelling-cap, a
woollen helmet something like an old-time helmet without the visor.

[Illustration: Plan of the Hut at Winter Quarters (_See page
64_)]

If a blizzard were blowing the muffler was discarded, the helmet put
on, and over this the Burberry helmet, which has a stiff flap in front
that can be buttoned into a funnel-shape. In very low temperatures, or
even in moderately low temperature and a breeze, we had occasionally to
inspect each others' faces for the sign of frost-bite; and if the white
patch denoting this was visible, it had to be attended to immediately.




CHAPTER XIII

OUR PONIES AND DOGS


The experiences of the National Antarctic Expedition and of the
_Discovery_ Expedition convinced me, that if we could use ponies
instead of dogs for traction purposes we should be making a very
successful change.

It was a risk to take ponies from the far north through the tropics,
and then across two thousand miles of stormy sea on a very small ship,
but we eventually established ourselves at the winter quarters with
eight ponies. Unfortunately, however, we lost four of them within a
month of our arrival.

In the case of three out of the four the loss was due to the facts that
they were picketed at first on sandy ground, and that we did not notice
that they were eating the sand. I had neglected to supply them with
salt, and as they found a saline flavour in the sand they ate it at odd
moments.

Until Sandy died and a post-mortem examination revealed the cause of
his death, we were at a loss to know why several of the ponies were
ill. Naturally we shifted them at once to a spot where they could get
no more sand, but in spite of the remedies we gave to them two more of
the ponies died.

The loss of the fourth pony was due to poisoning, for Manchurian ponies
will eat anything that can possibly be chewed, and this particular--or
unparticular--one seems to have eaten shavings in which chemicals had
been packed. These losses were a matter of the deepest concern to us.

We were left with four ponies, Quan, Socks, Grisi and Chinaman, and
they were so precious in our eyes that they were guarded with most
keen attention. During the winter months we had many opportunities to
learn the different characters of each animal, and as every one of them
seemed to possess an extraordinary amount of sense and cunning, we were
not infrequently suffering from petty annoyances.

Quan was the worst offender, his delight being to bite through his
head-rope and attack the bales of fodder stacked behind him; then, when
we put a chain on him, he deliberately rattled it against the side of
the hut, which operation kept us awake. Grisi was our best-looking
pony, but he was so unfriendly to the others in the stables that we had
to build him a separate stall.

Socks was shaped like a miniature Clydesdale, and was always willing to
work and very fiery.

The last of our remaining ponies was Chinaman, a strong animal, sulky
in appearance, but in reality one of the best of workers. He also
liked to bite his head-rope, but when we put a chain on him he did not
emulate Grisi by rattling it against the hut.

We had been able to obtain only nine dogs, but many puppies--most of
which came to an untimely end--increased this number. The presence
of the dogs around our winter quarters was very cheerful and gave a
homelike feeling to the place, and our interest in the pups was always
fresh, for as they grew up each one developed peculiarities of its own.

All the pups were white and were most useful to us in guarding the
ponies, for if a pony got adrift the little army of pups, which slept
in the stables, at once surrounded him, and by their furious barking
warned the night watchman that something was wrong.

I remember that on one occasion Grisi got free and dashed out of the
stables followed by the whole party of pups, and after Mackay had
secured the truant the dogs followed with an air of pride as though
conscious of having done their duty.

Since we were reduced to four ponies it was necessary to consider
the dogs as a possible factor in our work, and so their training was
important. But after enjoying some months of freedom it seemed terrible
to the young dogs when first a collar was put on them, and even less
did they enjoy their experience of being taken to the sledge and there
taught to pull.

Peary's account of his expeditions shows that in Arctic regions dogs
have been able to traverse long distances very quickly. Once indeed
over ninety miles were accomplished in twenty-three hours, but this
evidently was done on smooth sea-ice or on the smooth glaciated surface
of the land. Such a feat would be impossible on the Antarctic Barrier
surface.

[Illustration: A Group of the Shore Party at the Winter Quarters

_Standing_ (from left): Joyce, Day, Wild, Adams, Brocklehurst,
Shackleton, Marshall, David, Armytage, Marston _Sitting:_ Priestly,
Murray, Roberts]




CHAPTER XIV

MOUNT EREBUS


Until March 3 the arrangement of all the details relating to settling
in our winter quarters engaged our attention, but afterwards we at once
began to seek some outlet for our energies which would advance the
cause of science and the work of the expedition.

I was anxious to make a depot to the south for the furtherance of our
southern journey in the summer, but the open water between us and Hut
Point forbade all progress in that direction; neither was it possible
for us to journey towards the western mountains, where the geology
might have been studied with the chance of most interesting results.

One journey, however, was possible, certainly a difficult one, yet
gaining interest and excitement from that very reason, and this was an
attempt to reach the summit of Mount Erebus.

Both geologically and meteorologically the accomplishment of this work
was desirable, but apart from scientific considerations the ascent of
a mountain over 13,000 feet in height would be exciting both to those
chosen as climbers, and to the rest of us who wished for their success.

After deliberation I decided that Professor David, Mawson and Mackay
should form the party that was to try to reach the summit, and they
were to be provisioned for ten days. A supporting-party, consisting of
Adams, Marshall and Brocklehurst, was to assist the main-party as far
as possible, and the whole expedition was to be under Adams' charge
until he decided that his party was to return, when the Professor was
to be in charge of the advance-party.

In my written instructions to Adams, he was given the option of going
to the summit if he thought it feasible for his party to push on, and
he actually did so, though the supporting-party was only provisioned
for six days, and was not so well equipped for mountain-work as the
advance-party. I also gave instructions that the supporting-party
was not to hamper the main-party, especially as regarded division of
provisions, but instead of being drawbacks the three men were of great
assistance to the advance division, and lived entirely on their own
stores, and equipment.

No sooner was the decision arrived at to make the ascent than the
winter quarters became busy with the bustle of preparation, and such
was the energy thrown into this work, that by 8.30 A.M. on March 5 the
men were ready to start upon the expedition.

In ascending such a mountain as Erebus it was obvious, that a limit
would soon be reached beyond which it would be impossible to use a
sledge. To meet these circumstances straps were arranged by which
single sleeping-bags could be slung in the form of a knapsack upon the
climber's back, and inside the bags the remainder of the equipment
could be packed. Both the advance and the supporting-party followed
this arrangement.

When they started I confess that I saw but little prospect of the whole
party reaching the top, yet when, from the hut, on the third day out,
we saw through Armytage's telescope six tiny black spots crawling up
the immense deep snowfield, and when on the next day I saw the same
small figures on the sky-line, I realised that the supporting-party was
going the whole way.

But before I give an account of this expedition as reported to me most
graphically by Professor David and Adams, I must say something about
the mountain on which these six men were winning their spurs not only
on their first Antarctic campaign, but also in their first attempt at
serious mountaineering.

The name of Mount Erebus looms large in the history of polar
exploration both north and south. On January 28, 1841, Sir James
Clark Ross named the great volcano--at whose base our winter quarters
lay--after the leading ship of his expedition.

The final fate of that ship is linked with the fate of Sir John
Franklin and one of the most tragic stories of Arctic exploration, but
though both the _Erebus_ and _Terror_ have sunk far from the scenes of
their first exploration, that brilliant period of Antarctic discovery
will always be remembered by the mountains which took their names from
those stout ships. Standing as a sentinel at the gate of the Great Ice
Barrier, Erebus forms a magnificent picture. At the top of the mountain
an immense depression marks the site of the old crater, and from the
side of this rises the active cone, generally marked by steam or smoke.
To ascend such a mountain would be difficult in any part of the world,
but the difficulties were accentuated by the latitude of Erebus. The
men, however, were determined to do their utmost to reach the crater
itself, and how they fared and what they found must be told from the
reports they gave to me.




CHAPTER XV

ATTACKING MOUNT EREBUS


All hands accompanied the expedition when it started at a quarter to
nine on the morning of March 5, and helped to pull the sledge along the
slopes of Back Door Bay across Blue Lake, up the eastern slope to the
first level; and there we said farewell to the mountain party.

[Illustration: Ice Flowers on newly-formed Sea Ice early in the Winter]

They first steered straight up a snow slope, and about a mile out and
400 feet above sea-level a glacial moraine barred their path, and they
had to portage the sledge over it by slipping ice-axes under the load
between the runners and bearers of the sledge (total weight of sledge
and load was 560 lb.), and lifting it over the obstruction. On the
further side of the moraine was a sloping surface of ice and névé, on
which the sledge capsized for the first time. Light snow was falling
and there was a slight wind.

More difficulties were quickly encountered, and no sooner had the party
managed, by struggling upon their hands and knees, to drag the sledge
up the steep slope of a small glacier, than their progress was impeded
by sastrugi.

"Sastrugi" means wind furrow, and is the name given to those annoying
obstacles to sledging, due to the action of the wind on the snow. These
sastrugi vary in depth from two or three inches to three or four feet,
according to the position of any rock masses near them and to the force
of the wind forming them.

Though they have many disadvantages, they are occasionally very
welcome; for sometimes it is impossible to see the way to steer unless
one takes the line of sastrugi and notes the angle it makes with the
compass course, the compass for the moment being placed on the snow to
obtain the direction.

The sledgers, at this particular juncture, had much trouble in keeping
their feet; and their remarks upon the subject of sastrugi were
distinctly audible and uncomplimentary.

On the first evening the party camped at 6 P.M., about 2750 ft. above
sea-level and a distance of seven miles from winter quarters; and on
the following morning they found that the temperature was 10° below
zero Fahr.

The gradient was becoming much steeper, being 1 in 5, and sastrugi,
running obliquely to their course, caused the sledge frequently to
capsize. The heavy work, however, resulted in keeping the travellers
warm; and on the night of March 6 they had reached an altitude of 5630
ft., and a temperature of 28° below zero.

On the following morning Adams decided that the supporting-party should
attempt to reach the summit, though they were handicapped by having a
three-man sleeping-bag--which article of bulk one man had to carry--and
in various other ways.

The party made a depot of the sledge and of some of the provisions and
cooking utensils at the second camp, and then, starting with tent-poles
among their equipment, they resumed their climb. Soon, however,
they realised the impossibility of climbing the mountain with these
articles, which had to be taken back to the depot.

Each man carried a weight of 40 lb., and on the third evening the party
camped about 8750 ft. above sea-level. Between 9 and 10 P.M. of the 7th
a strong wind sprang up, and when the men woke the following morning a
fierce blizzard was blowing from the south-east.

In the whirling snow and roaring wind, the two sections of the party,
although only some ten yards apart, could neither see nor hear each
other, and the blizzard increased in fury as the day wore on.

In the afternoon, however, Brocklehurst emerged from the three-man
sleeping-bag, and instantly a fierce gust whirled away one of his
wolfskin mits, and he, dashing after it, was swept down the ravine by
the force of the wind.

Adams, who had left the bag with Brocklehurst, saw the latter vanish,
and in trying to return to the bag to fetch Marshall, he also was blown
down by the wind. Meanwhile Marshall, the only occupant of the bag, had
great difficulty in keeping himself from being blown, sleeping-bag and
all, down the ravine.

At last Adams, on his hands and knees, succeeded in reaching the bag,
and at the same time Brocklehurst, also creeping along as best he
could, appeared. It was a close call, for so biting was the cold that
he was all but completely gone.

During the day and night of the 8th the travellers had nothing to
drink, as it would have been impossible to have kept the lamp alight to
thaw out the snow. Happily, by 4 A.M. the blizzard was over, and soon
afterwards the climbers were again on their way. The angle of ascent
was now steeper than ever, being thirty-four degrees--that is, a rise
of 1 in 1½ and the travellers kept as much as possible to the bare
rocks. During this day Brocklehurst, who was wearing ski boots, began
to feel the cold attacking his feet, but did not think seriously enough
of it to change into finnesko.

At noon a fair camping-ground was found some 800 ft. below the rim of
the old crater, and after a hasty meal the ascent was again tackled.
Within a little distance from the top of the rim of the main crater,
Mackay chose to work his way alone with his ice-axe up a long and very
steep névé slope, instead of following the safer route by the rocks.

[Illustration: One thousand feet below the Active Cone]

He passed from sight, and then was heard to call out that he was
getting weak, and did not think he could last much longer. Hastening
to the ridge, Marshall and the Professor dropped to the point where he
was likely to be found, and fortunately met him, thoroughly exhausted,
coming towards them.

It appeared that Mackay had, with his heavy load, found the work of
cutting steps more difficult than he had expected, and that he had only
just managed to reach safety when he fell and fainted. No doubt this
was partly due to mountain sickness, which under the severe conditions
and at the high altitude also affected Brocklehurst.

Having found a camping-place, the members of the party were at leisure
to observe the nature of their surroundings; and they found themselves
on the very brink of a precipice of black rock, forming the inner edge
of the old crater. This wall of dark lava was mostly vertical, and
the base of the cliff was separated from the snow plain beyond by a
deep ditch like a huge dry moat, evidently due to the action of the
blizzards.

But what surprised the explorers most were the extraordinary structures
which rose here and there above the surface of the snowfield. They
were in the form of mounds and pinnacles of most varied and fantastic
appearance, some resembling beehives, others huge ventilating cowls,
while others were like isolated turrets, and yet others looked like
various animals in shape.

At first sight no one was able to understand the origin of these
remarkable structures, but as it was time for food, they left the
closer investigation until later in the day.




CHAPTER XVI

THE CONQUEST OF MOUNT EREBUS


While some of the party cooked the meal, Marshall examined
Brocklehurst's feet, as the latter stated that for some time he had
lost all feeling in them. When his boots and socks were removed it was
found that both his big toes were black, and that four more toes were
also frost-bitten. Ultimate recovery from so severe a frost-bite was
bound to be slow and tedious, though Marshall's and Mackay's efforts to
restore circulation were, under the conditions, fairly successful. To
climb almost continuously for nine hours with badly frost-bitten feet
up the steep and difficult track must have required splendid pluck and
determination.

After lunch Brocklehurst was safely tucked up in the three-man
sleeping-bag, and the five other members of the party started off
to explore the floor of the old crater, and the mystery of those
remarkable structures was soon solved by the Professor.

Directing their steps towards one of the ice mounds, which bore a
whimsical resemblance to a lion couchant, and from which smoke seemed
to be issuing, the Professor recognised that these structures were the
outward and visible signs of fumaroles.

In ordinary climates a fumarole, or volcanic vapour-well, may be
detected by the thin cloud of steam above it, but in the rigour of the
Antarctic climate the fumaroles of Erebus have their vapour turned into
ice as soon as it reaches the surface of the snow-plain.

Thus ice mounds, somewhat similar in shape to the sinter mounds formed
by the geysers of New Zealand, Iceland and Yellowstone Park, are built
up round the orifices of the fumaroles of Erebus.

Next morning when the party got up at 4 A.M. they had a splendid
view of the shadow of Erebus projected on the field of cumulus cloud
below them by the rising sun, and while Marshall was attending to
Brocklehurst, the hypsometer, which had become frozen on the way up,
was thawed out, and a determination of the boiling-point made.

This, when reduced and combined with the mean of the aneroid levels,
made the height of the old crater rim, just above the camp, 11,400 ft.

At 6 A.M. the party left the camp, and, hastening to reach the summit
of the present crater, were soon ascending rather steep slopes, formed
of alternating beds of hard snow and vast quantities of large and
perfect felspar crystals, mixed with pumice. And a little farther on
they reached the base of the volcano's active cone. Progress now became
painfully slow, as the height and cold combined to make it difficult to
breathe.

The cone of Erebus is built chiefly of blocks of pumice, from a few
inches to a few feet in diameter. Externally these were grey, or often
yellow, owing to incrustations of sulphur, but when broken they were of
a resinous, brown colour.

At last, just after 10 A.M. on March 10, the edge of the active crater
was reached, and the little party stood on the summit of Erebus, the
first men to conquer perhaps the most remarkable summit in the world.
From measurements made while at the crater's edge, Erebus may be
calculated to rise to a height of 13,370 ft. above sea-level.

The report most vividly describes the magnificent and awe-inspiring
scene before the eyes of the travellers.

[Illustration: The "Lion" of Erebus. (_See page 86_)]

"We stood on the verge of a vast abyss, and at first could see neither
to the bottom nor across it on account of the huge mass of steam
filling the crater and soaring aloft in a column 500 to 1000 ft. high.
After a continuous hissing sound, lasting for some minutes, there would
come from below a big, dull boom, and immediately great globular masses
of steam would rush upwards to swell the volume of the snow-white cloud
which ever sways over the crater. This phenomenon recurred at intervals
during the whole of our stay at the crater. Meanwhile the air around
us was extremely redolent of burning sulphur. Presently a pleasant
northerly breeze fanned away the steam cloud, and at once the whole
crater stood revealed to us in all its vast extent and depth. Mawson's
angular measurement made the depth 900 ft., and the greatest width
about half a mile. There were at least three well-defined openings
at the bottom of the cauldron, and it was from these that the steam
explosions proceeded."

As soon as the measurements had been made and Mawson had taken some
photographs, the party returned to camp, because it had been decided to
start the descent during the same afternoon.

Numerous specimens of the unique felspar crystals and of the pumice and
sulphur were collected on the way back to camp, and, having arrived
there, the travellers made a hasty meal, packed up, and started down
the steep mountain slope, Brocklehurst insisting on bearing his own
heavy load in spite of his frost-bitten feet.

Soon a point was reached where the party had either to retrace their
way or to cut steps across a névé slope, or, lastly, to glissade down
some 500 or 600 feet to a rocky ledge below. In their tired state, they
chose the path of least resistance, which was offered by the glissade,
and consequently the loads were rearranged so that they might roll down
easily. Brocklehurst's load, which contained the cooking utensils,
protested noisily as it went down, and the aluminium cookers received a
severe battering from their abrupt contact with the rocks below.

At this time the whole party were suffering from thirst, but a
makeshift drink was obtained by gathering a little snow, squeezing it
into a ball, and placing it on the surface of a piece of rock, where it
melted almost at once on account of the heat of the sun.

Adams and Marshall were the first to reach the depot, having dropped
down 5000 ft. between 3 P.M. and 7 P.M., and they found that the
blizzard of the 8th had played havoc with their gear, for the sledge
had been overturned and some of the load scattered to a distance and
partly covered with drift snow. The party camped during that night at
the depot, and by 5.30 A.M. on the following morning the sledge was
packed and the homeward journey resumed.

The sastrugi, however, were so troublesome that rope brakes were put on
the sledge-runners, and two men went in front to pull when necessary,
while two steadied the sledge, and two stayed behind to pull back when
required.

At this time, indeed, the conditions were most trying, for the sledge
either refused to budge or suddenly it took charge, and overran those
who were dragging it.

Capsizes occurred every few minutes, and, owing to the slippery ground,
some of the party who had not crampons or barred ski-boots were badly
shaken up. One has to experience such a surface to realise how severe a
jar one gets from falling. The only civilised experience akin to it is
when one steps unknowingly on a slide which some small street-boy has
made on the pavement.

The party reached the spot where they had made their first camp, six
miles distant from Cape Royds, at 7.30 A.M. By this time a blizzard
seemed to be approaching, and the snow, which was beginning to drift
before a gusty south-easterly wind, threatened to cut off all view of
the winter quarters. Every one was tired, one of the tents had a large
hole burnt in it, the oil supply was almost done, and one of the stoves
had been put out of action as the result of the glissade. So in the
circumstances the party decided to make a dash for Cape Royds, leaving
sledge and equipment to be picked up later.

In the grey light the sastrugi did not show up in relief, and every few
feet some member of the party fell sprawling over the snow. At last
their eyes were gladdened by the shining surface of the Blue Lake only
half a mile distant from winter quarters. But now that the stress and
the strain were over, their legs grew heavy and leaden, and that last
half-mile seemed to be one of the hardest they had covered.

Meanwhile, at winter quarters we had been busy opening cases, with
the result that the cubicles of the absentees were crowded with an
accumulation, of stores. We had just decided to make the cubicles tidy
again for the travellers, and were beginning on the Professor's, when I
left the hut for a moment, and to my astonishment saw six slowly moving
figures within thirty yards of me.

Running towards them, I shouted, "Did you get to the top?" and as there
was no answer I asked again. Then Adams pointed with his hand upwards;
but, not satisfied by this, I repeated the question, and Adams replied
"Yes." After that I dashed to the hut and shouted to the others, who
streamed out to cheer the successful venturers. A good feed followed,
in which porridge had the place of honour.

[Illustration: The Crater of Erebus, 900 feet deep and half a mile
wide. Steam is seen rising on the left. The photograph was taken from
the lower part of the Crater edge. (_See page 88_)]

After some days' delay on account of bad weather, a party consisting
of Adams, the Professor, Armytage, Joyce, Wild and Marshall started to
fetch in the sledge with the explorers' equipment, and this work was
successfully accomplished.

Among some of the scientific results of this expedition, as given to me
by Professor David, must be mentioned the calculating of the height of
the mountains, and that "as regards the geological structure of Erebus,
there is evidence of the existence of four superimposed craters."

"Two features," the Professor wrote, "in the geology of Erebus which
are specially distinctive are: the vast quantities of large and perfect
felspar crystals and the ice fumaroles.... Its situation between
the belt of polar calms and the South Pole; its isolation from the
disturbing influence of large land masses; its great height, which
enables it to penetrate the whole system of atmospheric circulation,
and the constant steam cloud at its summit, swinging to and fro like
a huge wind vane, combine to make Erebus one of the most interesting
places on earth to the meteorologist."




CHAPTER XVII

PREPARATIONS FOR THE WINTER MONTHS


After the journey to the summit of Erebus we began to prepare for the
long winter months that were rapidly approaching.

It was most important, for instance, that the geologists should get
as far afield as possible before the winter night closed upon us; so
both the Professor and Priestley were out early and late collecting
geological specimens which would need to be examined later on.

There was also a fine field for Murray's biological studies; while
the lengthening nights gave indications that the mysterious Aurora
Australis would soon be waving its curtains and beams over our winter
quarters; and as information on this phenomenon was greatly needed,
Mawson prepared to record the displays.

Adams was the meteorologist of the expedition, and he took all the
observations from 8 A.M. to 8 P.M.; while the night-watchman was
responsible for those taken from 10 P.M. to 6 A.M.

In addition to the meteorological screen, Mawson built an erection on
the top of the highest ridge, in which he placed an aneurometer of his
own construction to register the strength of the heaviest gusts of wind
during a blizzard. Frequently the squalls were found to blow with a
force of a hundred miles an hour.

There remained one more outdoor instrument connected with weather
observation, and that was the snow-gauge. By using some spare lengths
of stove chimney, the Professor erected a gauge into which the snow
falling in a blizzard was collected, and when it was melted down we
could calculate fairly accurately the amount of snowfall.

This observation was very important, as it is on the precipitation in
the form of snow, and on the rate of evaporation, that calculations
regarding the formation of the huge snowfields and glaciers depend.

As soon as the ice in the bay was strong enough to bear, Murray
prepared to capture the different marine creatures that rest on the
bottom of the sea or creep about there. His ultimate plan for the
capture of specimens was, whenever a crack opened in the bay ice, to
let down a line, one end being made fast at one end of the crack, and
the length of the line allowed to sink in the water horizontally for a
distance of sixty yards.

A hole was dug at each end of the line, and a small dredge was let down
and pulled along the bottom, being hauled up through the hole at the
far end. By this means rich collections were made, and rarely did the
dredge come up without some interesting specimens.

Although terrestrial vegetation is very scanty in the Antarctic,
the same cannot be said of the sub-aqueous plant-life; and the
investigations of the plant-life in the lakes was one of the principal
things undertaken by Murray, Priestley and the Professor during the
winter months.

As the winter approached a regular winter routine was arranged for
the camp, and apart from Brocklehurst, who was laid up with his
frost-bitten foot, all the party had to do a certain amount of work for
the common weal, apart from their own scientific duties.

From the time we arrived we always had a night-watchman, and we now
took turns to carry out this important duty, Roberts, who was busy
cooking all day, being the only one who was exempt from night duties.

Many as the duties--such as taking the meteorological observations,
looking after hut, ponies and dogs, and keeping up the fire--were, they
were not unpleasant: for when our turn came round we had a chance to
wash clothes, darn socks, and do little jobs which could not receive
much attention during the day. The night-watchman generally took his
bath either once a fortnight or once a month, as his inclination
prompted him.

The watchman during the earlier months was kept busy enough, for the
ponies were constantly trying to break loose and, generally speaking,
to upset things in the stable, and it was a comfort when they at last
learned to keep fairly quiet.

Another difficulty the watchman encountered was that of keeping the hut
warm when, instead of lumps of coal, he had to content himself with
very fine stuff. To meet this difficulty we had recourse to lumps of
seal blubber, and it was good to know that with the large supply of
seals obtainable in these latitudes no expedition need want emergency
fuel.

Towards mid-winter an institution known as eleven-o'clock tea grew into
existence, the Professor being greatly attached to this, and generally
undertaking to make the tea for the men still out of bed. By one
o'clock, however, most of the hut party were wrapped in more or less
noisy slumber. The watchman's most trying time was about five o'clock
in the morning: for then one's eyes grew heavy, and great effort was
needed to prevent oneself from falling asleep.

At 7.30 A.M. Roberts was called, and at this hour Armytage or Mackay
was roused up to feed the ponies; but before mid-winter day Armytage
took over the entire responsibility of the stables and ponies. At 8.30
A.M. all hands were called, special attention being paid to turning out
the messman for the day; and at nine o'clock sharp every one sat down
to breakfast.



CHAPTER XVIII

STILL IN THE HUT


The duties of the messman were more onerous than those of the night
watchman, and began by laying the table--a simple operation owing to
the primitive conditions under which we lived. He then garnished this
with hot sauces to tickle some of our tough palates, and when we sat
down he passed up bowls of porridge and the big jug of hot milk, which
was the standing dish every day.

Then came the messman's order, "Up bowls," and, reserving our spoons,
the bowls were passed along. If it were a "fruit day"--a day when the
second course consisted of bottled fruit--the bowls were retained for
this popular dish.

After he had been assisted in washing up the breakfast things, the duty
of the man in the house was to fill the melting-pots with ice, empty
the ashes and tins into the dust-box outside, and get in a bag of coal.
One often heard the messman anxiously enquiring what the dinner dishes
consisted of, the most popular, from his point of view, being those
which resulted in the least amount of grease on the plates. The hut was
swept out three times a day, so that the building was kept in a tidy
state.

[Illustration: The Type-case and Printing Press for the production of
the "Aurora Australis" in Joyce's and Wild's Cubicle, known as "The
Rouges' Retreat." (_See page 100_)]

It would only be repetition to chronicle our doings from day to day,
during the months that passed from the disappearance of the sun until
the welcome daylight returned. We lived under conditions of steady
routine, and having more than enough to occupy us in our daily work
that spectre known as "Polar ennui" never appeared.

At night some of us played bridge, poker and dominoes; but Joyce,
Wild, Marston and Day spent much time in the production of the "Aurora
Australis," the first book ever written, printed, illustrated and bound
in the Antarctic.

Messrs. Joseph Causton & Sons, Ltd., had generously given us a complete
printing outfit and the paper for the book, and Joyce and Wild had been
instructed in type-setting and printing, Marston being taught etching
and lithography.

They had hardly become skilled craftsmen, but although the early days
of the printing department were not exactly happy, the work progressed
steadily, until at the end of a fortnight or so two pages could
be printed a day. Day meanwhile prepared the binding by cleaning,
planing and polishing wood taken from the venesta cases, while Marston
reproduced the illustrations by printing from aluminium plates.

Marston was handicapped by the fact that all our water had a trace
of salt in it, but he managed to produce what we all regarded as
creditable pictures. In its final form the book consisted of about 120
pages; and at any rate it had helped to guard us from a dangerous lack
of occupation during the polar night.

On March 13 we experienced a very fierce blizzard, and cases weighing
from 50 to 80 lb. were actually shifted from their positions; so when
the gale was over we put everything that could possibly blow away into
places of greater safety.

On this day Murray found living microscopical animals on some fungus
that had been thawed out from a lump of ice taken from the bottom of
one of the lakes, this being one of the most interesting discoveries
that had been made in the Antarctic, for the study of these minute
creatures threw a new light on the capability of life to exist under
conditions of extreme cold and in the face of great variations of
temperature.

From our point of view, it was humorous to see Murray trying to slay
the little animals he had found. He used to thaw them from a block
of ice, freeze them up again, and repeat this process several times
without causing the rotifers any inconvenience. Then he tested them
in brine so strongly saline that it would not freeze at a temperature
above minus 7° Fahr., and still the animals lived, and a good
proportion of them survived a temperature of 200° Fahr. It became a
contest between rotifers and scientist, and generally the rotifers
seemed to triumph.

       *       *       *       *       *

Tongue and pencil would sadly fail to describe the magic of the
colouring in the days when the sun was leaving us. The very clouds at
this time were iridescent with rainbow hues. The change from twilight
into night, sometimes lit by a crescent moon, was extraordinarily
beautiful, for the white cliffs gave no part of their colour away,
and the rocks beside them did not part with their blackness; so the
effect of deepening night over these contrasts was singularly weird.
Throughout April hardly a day passed without an auroral display,
and about the beginning of that month the temperature began to drop
considerably, and in calm, still weather the thermometer often
registered 40° below zero.

       *       *       *       *       *

On April 6 Marshall decided that it was necessary to amputate
Brocklehurst's big toe, as there was no sign of its recovery from
frost-bite; and the patient having been put under chloroform, the bone
was removed, and the sufferer moved to my room, where he remained till
just before mid-winter's day.

When mid-winter's day had passed, and the twilight became daily more
marked, I set on foot arrangements for the sledging work in the
following spring. For it was desirable that, at the earliest possible
date, a depot of stores should be placed at a point to the south, in
preparation for the departure of the Southern Party, which was to march
towards the Pole. This depot I hoped to make at least a hundred miles
from the winter quarters.

It was also desirable that definite information should be obtained
regarding the condition of the snow surface on the Barrier; and I
also wanted various members of the party to have practice in sledging
before the serious work began. Considering our scarcity of ponies, I
resolved that these preliminary sledging journeys should be performed
by man-haulage.

During the winter I had given earnest consideration to the question of
the date on which the party that was to march towards the Pole should
leave the hut. Our hoped-for goal lay over 880 statute miles to the
south, and the brief summer was all too short a time in which to march
so far into the unknown and return. The ship would have to leave for
the north about the end of February, for the ice would then be closing
in; and, moreover, we could not hope to carry on our sledges much more
than a three months' supply of provisions on anything like full rations.

Finally, I resolved that the Southern Party should leave mid-winter
quarters on October 28, for by starting earlier the ponies would
probably suffer from the severe cold at nights; and if the ponies were
quickly incapacitated, we should have gained no advantage from our
early start.

[Illustration: Preparing a Sledge during the Winter]

But the date having been fixed, it became necessary to arrange for the
laying of the depot during the early spring, and I thought that the
first step towards this should be a preliminary journey on the Barrier
surface, so that we might gain an idea of the prevailing conditions,
and find out if the motor-car would be of service for at any rate the
early portion of the journey.




CHAPTER XIX

PRELIMINARY JOURNEYS


The sun had not yet returned and the temperature was exceedingly low,
but the _Discovery_ expedition had proved that it is quite possible
to travel under these conditions. Accordingly I started on this
preliminary journey on August 12, taking with me Professor David,
who was to lead the Northern Party towards the South Magnetic Pole,
and Bertram Armytage who was to take charge of the party that was to
journey into the mountains of the west later in the year.

We were equipped for a fortnight with provisions and camp gear, packed
on one sledge, and had three gallons of petroleum in case we decided
to stay out longer. A gallon will last three men for about ten days,
and we could get more food at Hut Point if we required it. We took
three one-man sleeping bags, for although the larger bags are certainly
warmer one's rest in them is very likely to be disturbed by the
movements of a companion.

At first the weather was bad and consequently progress was slow, but
although the temperature was about forty degrees below zero we slept
soundly at night, and arose praising the one-man sleeping bags.

We reached the old _Discovery_ winter quarters at Hut Point on the
morning of August 14, and I took the Professor and Armytage over all
the familiar ground.

To me the revisiting of these old scenes was supremely interesting.
Here was the place where, years before, when the _Discovery_ was lying
fast in the ice close to the shore, we used to dig for the ice required
for the supply of fresh water. The marks of the picks and shovel
could still be seen, and I noticed an old case bedded in the ice, and
remembered the day when it had been thrown away. The fascination of the
unknown swept upon me as I stood in those familiar surroundings, and I
longed to be away towards the south on the journey that I hoped would
lay bare the mysteries of the Pole.

The old hut had never been a cheerful place even when we were camped
alongside it in the _Discovery_, and it looked doubly inhospitable now
after standing empty for six years. I proposed, however, to use it as a
stores depot in connection with the southern journey, for it was twenty
miles further south than our winter quarters. We slept there that night
and on the following morning started for our journey across the Barrier.

The chief result of this expedition was to convince me that we could
not place much reliance on the motor-car for the southern journey,
because the condition of the surface on the Barrier varied from mile to
mile, and it would be impossible to keep changing the wheels of the car
so as to meet the requirements of each new surface.

Professor David and Armytage had also received a good baptism of frost,
and as it was desirable that every member of the expedition should
have personal experience of travelling over ice and snow in low
temperatures before the real work began, I arranged to dispatch a small
party every week to sledge stores and equipment south to Hut Point.

I did not hesitate to let these parties face bad weather, because the
road was well known, and a rough experience would be useful to men
later on. Each party returned with adventures to relate, and curiously
all of them encountered bad weather, but there were no accidents and
the men seemed to enjoy the work.

Early in September Adams, Marshall and I started for Hut Point, and
decided to make one march of the twenty-three miles, and not camp on
the way. A blizzard, however, struck us when we were near our goal, and
abandoning the extra weights we were pulling for the depot, we managed
to reach the hut in a sorely frost-bitten condition. I mention this
to show how constantly one has to guard against the onslaughts of the
elements in the inhospitable regions of the south.

By the middle of September a good supply of provisions, oil and gear
was stored at Hut Point, in fact everything needed for the southern
journey had been taken there so that the start might be made from
the most southern base available. Also while the men were gaining
experience the ponies were being given exercise, and I felt that these
little Manchurian animals were going to justify my confidence. After
many experiments I concluded that 650 lb. per pony should be the
maximum load, this weight including the sledge itself which weighed
about 60 lb.

When the question of weight came to be considered I realised more than
ever the seriousness of the loss of the other four ponies. It was
evident that we could not take to the Pole as much food as I would have
liked.

[Illustration: The Leader of the Expedition in Winter Garb]

On September 22 I started out again with a party consisting of Adams,
Marshall, Wild, Marston and Joyce and myself to place a depot 160
statute miles south of the _Discovery_ winter quarters, the depot to
consist of pony maize. The loads were about 170 lb. per man, and the
journey was a severe one, for at times the temperature got down to 59°
below zero Fahr.

We reached the main depot in latitude 79° 36′ South, longitude 168°
East on October 6, and this we called "Depot A." It was marked with an
upturned sledge and a black flag on a bamboo rod, and here we deposited
a gallon tin of oil and 167 lb. of pony maize so that our load would be
materially reduced for the first portion of the journey south.

The weather was shockingly severe on our return journey, and we did
not reach the old _Discovery_ winter quarters until October 13, but
continuing our march home on the following day we were lucky enough
to meet the motor-car, and with the sledges hitched on, we drove
triumphantly back to winter quarters.

During our absence the Northern Party, consisting of Professor David,
Mawson and Mackay, had started on their journey to the South Magnetic
Pole. I said good-bye to the Professor and his two companions on
September 22 and we did not meet again until March 1, 1909.




CHAPTER XX

ARRANGEMENTS AND INSTRUCTIONS


The Southern Party was to leave winter quarters on October 29, so on
our return from Depot A we began finally to prepare for our attempt to
reach the South Pole. I decided that Adams, Marshall and Wild should
go with me and that we should take provisions for ninety-one days. This
amount of food with other equipment brought the load per pony up to
the weight fixed as the maximum safe load. The supporting party was to
accompany us for some distance so that we might start fairly fresh from
a point beyond the rough ice off Minna Bluff, and we were to take the
four ponies and four sledges.

Early in 1907 I had proposed that one party should travel to the east
across the Barrier surface towards King Edward VII Land, but the loss
of so many ponies caused me to abandon this project.

Arrangements, however, were made for sending out a party early in
December to lay a depot for the Northern Party, and when this was done,
the same men were to proceed to the western mountains.

Also on January 15, 1909, a party under Joyce, was to lay a depot near
Minna Bluff containing sufficient stores for the return of the Southern
Party from that point. This same party was to return to Hut Point,
reload and march out to the depot a second time, and await the arrival
of the Southern Party until February 10, 1909. If the Southern Party
had not arrived by that date, Joyce and his companions were to go back
to Hut Point and thence to the ship.

Before my departure I left instructions which provided for the
conclusion of the work of the Expedition in its various branches, and
for the relief of the men left in the Antarctic in the event of the
non-return of the Southern Party.

To Murray I gave command of the Expedition and full instructions during
my absence.

The provisioning of the Southern Party was long and anxiously
considered, and Marshall went very carefully into the question of
the relative food-values of the various supplies, and we were able
to derive much useful information from the experience of previous
expeditions.

At length we decided that the daily allowance of food for each man on
the journey, as long as full rations were given, was to be as follows:

                          Oz.
  Pemmican                7·5
  Emergency Ration        1·5
  Biscuit                16
  Cheese or Chocolate     2
  Cocoa                    ·7
  Plasmon                 1
  Sugar                   4·3
  Quaker Oats             1
                         ----
                         34·0

Tea, salt, and pepper were extras not weighed in with the daily
allowance. We used about two ounces of tea per day for the four men,
and the salt and pepper were carried in small bags, each bag to last
one week.

Everything was ready for the start as the end of October approached,
and we looked forward with keen anticipation to the venture. The
supporting-party, consisting of Joyce, Marston, Priestly, Armytage, and
Brocklehurst, was to accompany us for the first ten days.

The weather was not very good towards the end of October, but there
were signs that summer was coming. We spent the last days overhauling
sledges and equipment, and our evenings in writing letters for those
at home, to be delivered in the event of our not returning from the
unknown regions into which we hoped to penetrate.

[Illustration: The Motor-car in the Garage, Maize-Crusher on the right]




CHAPTER XXI

THE START TO THE SOUTH POLE


Brilliant sunshine and a cloudless sky were an auspicious beginning to
the day on which we started upon our attempt to plant the Union Jack,
which the Queen had given us, on the last untrodden spot of the world.
Yet on leaving the hut where we had spent so many months in comfort, we
had a feeling of real regret that never again should we all be together.

The supporting-party started first, and at 10 A.M. we said good-bye
to Murray and Roberts, who were to be left behind, and we four of the
Southern Party followed with an intense desire to do well for the sake
of every one concerned in the Expedition.

Hardly, however, had we been marching for an hour when mishaps began
to occur. First of all Socks went dead lame, and soon afterwards, when
we were halting to feed ourselves and the ponies, Grisi lashed out and
struck Adams just below the knee.

Three inches higher and the blow would have shattered both his knee-cap
and his hopes of reaching the South Pole. As it was the bone was almost
exposed and he was in great pain, although he said very little about
it. What he would have done if he had been completely knocked out it is
impossible to imagine, as his interest in the Expedition was intense.

On October 30 we reached Hut Point and with Adams better, the ponies
recovered from their lameness, and the weather gloriously fine, we
rejoiced to be out at last on the long trail.

Quan fit or unfit was the most mischievous of all the ponies, for when
any one was looking his special delight was to bite his tether, and
unfortunately he did this on one occasion when no one was watching him
and played havoc with the maize and other fodder. When we tried to
catch him he dashed from one sledge to another tearing bags to pieces
and trampling the food out, kicking up his heels and showing that he
was deliberately destructive, for his distended appearance proved that
he had eaten more than his fill.

We left the sea ice on November 3, but instead of finding a better
surface on the Barrier, we discovered that the going was more difficult
than ever. The ponies, however, pulled magnificently and every hour the
pony-leaders changed places with the sledge-haulers. On the next day we
wore goggles, as we were already feeling the trying light, and as soon
as we had passed the end of White Island the surface became softer and
it was trying work for both men and ponies. Still, however, we tramped
along, the supporting-party pulling magnificently, and our march for
the day was over sixteen miles.

Up to this time we had been blessed with fair weather, but on Guy
Fawkes' Day we encountered driving snow which made our steering very
wild. In the bad light the sastrugi could not be seen, and the surface
was very bad for both ponies and men. Minor mishaps were natural under
such conditions, and after Marshall, who was leading Grisi, had got his
legs into a crevasse, and soon afterwards Wild, Adams and Marshall had
got into another crevasse, there was nothing for it but to pitch camp
and wait until the weather cleared.

To our sorrow we had to lie during the whole of the next day in our
sleeping-bags except when we went out of them to feed the ponies, for
a blizzard was upon us with thick drift. One can scarcely realise
how trying it is to be held up by blizzards, unless one has been
on a polar expedition and knows that each lost day means also the
consumption of 40 lb. of pony feed alone. Nevertheless, we endeavoured
to make the best of an irritating situation, and in our one-man
sleeping-bags each of us had a little home, where he could read and
write and look at his household gods--if he had brought any with him.

During the morning I passed the time reading _Much Ado About
Nothing_--an inappropriate play perhaps for me to be reading when I was
worrying over our delay and thought that I had good cause to be.

The blizzard would not have mattered so much if we had only to consider
ourselves, for we could save on the food, but if the ponies were to be
of much use to us they had to be properly fed.

On the 7th the weather was better, though still very thick and
overcast, and cheered by the supporting-party, who were returning to
winter quarters, we started off with the ponies pulling splendidly. But
almost immediately we found ourselves in a maze of crevasses. The first
one which Marshall crossed with Grisi was 6 ft. wide, and when I looked
down there was nothing to be seen but a black yawning void.

Crevasses were here, there, and everywhere, and we had to camp between
two large ones and wait until the light became better, for to proceed
in such weather was to court disaster.

At last we were quite on our own resources, and as regards comfort in
the tents were very well off, for with only two men in each tent there
was plenty of room. Adams began by sharing a tent with me, but we
decided to shift about so that we could take turns with each other as
tent-mates.

[Illustration: The Southern Party marching into the White Unknown,
(_See page 112_)]

In respect to books also we were well supplied, for I took
Shakespeare's Comedies with me, Marshall had Borrow's "The Bible in
Spain," Adams, Arthur Young's "Travels in France," and Wild "Sketches
by Boz." By changing round when we had finished, we had literature
enough to keep us going for many hours when we were unable to march.

No literature, however, could prevent us from chafing at the weather
which kept us in our bags until the morning of November 9, but the
difficulties of travelling over snow and ice in a bad light are
practically insurmountable.

When the light is diffused by clouds or mist, it casts no shadows on
the dead white surface, which consequently appears to the eye to be
uniformly level. Often when we thought that we were marching on a level
surface, we would suddenly fall two or three feet, and the strain on
the eyes under these conditions was very great.

It is, indeed, when the sun is covered and the weather thickish that
one is in danger of snow-blindness, that painful complaint with which
we all became too well acquainted during the southern journey.

The only way to guard against an attack is to wear goggles the whole
time, but when one is perspiring on account of exertion with the
sledges, the glasses fog and they have to be taken off so that they
may be wiped. When they were removed, the glare from the surrounding
whiteness was intense, and the only relief was to get inside a tent,
which was made of a green material very restful to the eyes.

On the night of the 8th the weather cleared, and we saw that we were in
a regular nest of crevasses, Marshall and Wild finding that their tent
was pitched on the edge of a previously unseen one.

To stand in drift for four days with 24° of frost was so bad for the
ponies that we were thankful that their appetites for the hot food we
gave to them was not affected, but we wanted to get under way and put
some good marches in before we could feel really happy.

The distance as the crow flies from our winter quarters to the Pole
is 750 geographical miles and as yet we had only done fifty-one. That
a polar explorer needs a large stock of patience in his equipment is
not to be denied, and as we lay in our bags anxious to be marching yet
unable to move we drew heavy draughts upon our stock.




CHAPTER XXII

ONWARD


The morning of the 9th was fine, calm and clear, and, as soon as we
had dug the sledges out of the drift and breakfasted, we set out to
find a track among the crevasses. Our hunt for crevasses was successful
enough, for we discovered all sorts from narrow cracks to ugly chasms
with no bottom visible, but to find a track through them was beyond our
powers.

There was indeed nothing for it but to trust to Providence, and having
got under way we got over the first few crevasses without difficulty.
And then all of a sudden Chinaman went down a crack which ran parallel
to our course.

Adams tried to pull him out and he struggled gamely, but it was not
until Wild and I left our sledges and hauled along Chinaman's sledge
that, just in time, he managed to get on to firm ice, for three feet
more and it would have been all up with the Southern Journey. The
three-foot crack opened out into a great fathomless chasm, and down
that would have gone the pony, all our cooking gear and biscuits and
half the oil, and probably Adams as well.

But when things seem to be as hopeless as possible they often take
a sudden change for the better, and in our case this was the last
crevasse we encountered for some time, and at length, with a gradually
improving surface, we were really able to push along.

During the day we knocked off over 14 miles of those intervening
between us and our goal, and we turned in for the night in a more
cheerful frame of mind. Our rest, however, was disturbed by the
mischievous Quan eating away the straps on his rug, and Grisi and Socks
fighting over it. The propensities of Manchurian ponies for eating
peculiar things must certainly be allowed to have their drawbacks.

Such accidents may seem very trivial, but they meant work for us in
repairing the damage, and when one is thoroughly tired after a day's
march one does not welcome any unlooked for labour.

To our astonishment during our march in the afternoon we came across
the track of an Adelie penguin, and where on earth the bird had come
from was a mystery. It had been travelling on its stomach for a long
way, and it had at least fifty miles to travel before it could reach
food and water, and the nearest water in the direction from which it
had come was over fifty miles away. Among penguins this bird ought, I
think, to have been credited with an adventurous disposition.

With better weather for the next few days we made good progress towards
the depot where 167 lb. of pony food was lying, and our appetites were
already too good for the amount of food we were allowing ourselves.
Perhaps those who have never known what it is to be desperately hungry
will be disgusted at us for remembering that when the ponies had done
their work we should be able to add horse-meat to our rations. But I
can say with truth that until the ponies had to be killed they were
treated with a liberality that we denied sternly to ourselves.

[Illustration: Cape Barne and Inaccessible Island by Moonlight]

To pick up a depot which is only a tiny speck in a vast snowy plain
and is nearly sixty miles from the nearest land, is like picking up a
buoy in the North Sea with only distant mountains for bearings, and I
was most anxious that we should reach it before the glorious weather
broke up, for there was stored not only the pony feed but also a most
valuable gallon of oil.

Imagine then my delight when, on the evening of the 14th, Wild, who was
outside the camp looking through the Goertz glasses, shouted that he
could see the depot. We rushed out at once, and there were the flag and
sledge to be seen plainly through the glasses. On the next morning we
found everything intact and the flag waving merrily in the breeze, and
we camped there for a few hours so that we could distribute weights and
parcel our provision to be left there for our return journey.

It went to our hearts to leave a tin of sardines and a pot of black
currant jam which we had intended for our feast on Christmas Day, but
every ounce of additional weight was so important, that although we
felt that we ought to take as much food as we possibly could these
luxuries had to be left behind.

We were on again soon after one o'clock and when we camped that night
we built a snow mound as a guide to our homeward track, and decided
to build one at each camp we made. Having two shovels with us, in
ten minutes a mound 6 or 7 ft. high could be built, and although we
wondered whether our tracks would remain longer than our mounds, or our
mounds longer than the tracks, we thought it most advisable to neglect
no precautions. And as a matter of fact these mounds remained after
the sledge tracks had vanished, and were a great comfort to us on our
journey back.

Everything continued to go splendidly for us, and I could not help
contrasting the progress of our last few days with the time six years
before, when I was toiling along five miles a day over the same ground.

On November 16, for instance, we covered over 17 miles, a record day
for us; and also every one was in splendid health, my eyes (which had
been attacked by snow blindness) were better, and although split lips
prevented us laughing we were going straight as a die to the south--a
reason sufficient in itself for our cheerfulness.

Another opportunity for contrast was that between our parsimony in the
way of food and Quan's wastefulness. To economise we saved three lumps
of sugar each day so that in time we might build up a reserve stock,
while Quan with his marvellous digestion preferred to eat a yard of
creosoted rope than his proper bait, and often in sheer wantonness
threw the food given to him all over the snow.

By this time the work was beginning to tell upon the ponies, especially
upon Chinaman, but all of them continued to work splendidly in their
own particular way, and naturally we were anxious to advance our
food-supply as far as possible south before the ponies gave out.

Quan plodded stolidly through everything, possibly thinking of
what tricks he would play at night but at the same time working
magnificently; Chinaman was the first to show signs of collapse, but
his spirit was willing though his strength was weakening; Grisi and
Socks took all soft places with a rush.

But in spite of the hard labours of the day we always felt confident
that the ponies would enjoy themselves in their peculiar way at night,
and on one occasion I had to go out to prevent Socks from biting and
swallowing lumps out of Quan's tail. If we had ever anticipated that
they would have played such games, we should have taken a longer wire
to tether them and keep them apart.




CHAPTER XXIII

BEYOND ALL FORMER FOOTSTEPS


On November 18 I imagined that we had reached the windless area of the
Pole, for the Barrier was a dead, smooth, white plain, weird beyond
description, and, having no land in sight, we felt tiny specks in the
immensity around us. It seemed as though we were in some other world,
and yet the things that concerned us most were such trifles as split
lips and big appetites.

Already the daily meals were all too short, and we wondered what it
would be like when we were really hungry. However, we were moving on at
a rate of about fifteen miles a day, and every night that we camped we
felt that another long step towards our desire had been made.

Soon I discovered that I was wrong in thinking that we had reached the
windless area, for all the sastrugi began to point due south, but the
whole place and conditions were so unlike anything else in the world
of our experience, that it was extremely difficult to make correct
forecasts as to what we should next encounter.

At one moment I thought of Coleridge's "Ancient Mariner": "Alone,
alone; all, all alone, alone on a wide, wide sea"; and then, when the
mazy clouds sprung silently up and, not followed by any wind, drifted
quickly across our zenith, the only word to describe my feeling is
uncanny.

It was as though we were truly at the world's end, and were bursting in
on the birthplace of the clouds and the nesting-home of the four winds,
and we could not suppress a feeling that we mortals were being watched
with a jealous eye by the forces of nature.

Still, in spite of these sensations, which every one who goes out into
the intensely lone places of the world must experience, we were more
interested in such things as heavy going and soft surfaces than in
anything else, for the surface was all-important to us and played the
leading part in our day's work.

On November 20 we met with a terribly soft surface--so bad, in fact,
that it sounded the death-knell of poor old Chinaman, who was no longer
able to keep up with the others; and so we had to shoot him on the
following day.

Let me say again that the killing of the ponies was not pleasant work,
and that our only satisfaction was in knowing that they were well fed
up to the last, and had suffered no pain. When we had to kill a pony
we threw up a snow-mound to leeward of the camp, and took the animal
behind this out of sight of the others.

Of necessity we had to eat the meat, and as within a very short time
after killing the carcase was frozen solid, we always tried to cut the
meat into small pieces before this occurred.

On the same day that saw the death of Chinaman we made our second
depot, and left there 80 lb. of pony meat, one tin of biscuits weighing
27 lb., some sugar, and one tin of oil to see us back to Depot A.

With three ponies dragging 500 lb. each we left our depot, with its
black flag flying on the bamboo lashed to a discarded, sledge, and were
soon in new land to the south--land never before seen by human eyes.

The land consisted of great snow-clad heights rising beyond Mount
Longstaff, and also far inland to the north of Mount Markham. We found
that our latitude was 81° 8′ south.

The weather still remained splendid for marching, with a cool breeze
from the south and the sun slightly hidden, but our enjoyment of the
glorious view of peaks new to human eyes was marred by Wild being
temporarily unwell, and by Adams suffering badly from toothache. Our
first attempt to pull out this tooth merely resulted in the tooth
breaking, but at a second attempt Marshall succeeded in getting it out,
an achievement--under the conditions--as creditable to the one as it
was welcome to the other.

Steady progress was made until November 26, which is a day which we
travellers at least shall remember, for on it we passed the "farthest
south" previously reached by man. On this night we reached latitude 82°
18 south, and our "farthest south" in the march with Captain Scott was
82° 16½′.

As each hour passed on this memorable day we found new interest to the
west where the land lies, for we opened out Shackleton Inlet, and up
the inlet a great chain of mountains, and far into the west still more
peaks. To the west of Cape Wilson another chain of peaks about 10,000
ft. high appeared, and to the south-south-east new mountains were
continually coming into view. It falls to the lot of few men to see
land not previously looked upon by human eyes, and it was with feelings
of keen curiosity and awe (mingled in my case with a fervent hope that
no land would block our path) that we watched the new mountains rise
from the great unknown that lay before us.

No man of us could even guess what wonders might be revealed to us in
our march south, and our imaginations took wings until a stumble in the
snow or the sharp pangs of hunger brought back our attention to the
needs of the immediate present.

Our anxiety, however, to learn what lay before us was as keen as it
could be, and the long days of marching over the Barrier surface
were saved from monotony by the continued appearance of land to the
south-east. As we marched on and new mountains kept on rising, we were
concerned to notice that they trended more and more to the eastward,
for that meant that we must alter our course from nearly due south.
Nevertheless, we hoped that when we reached them some strait might be
found which would enable us to go right through them and on south.
Really, however, patience was of more use to us than speculation, for,
come what might, we meant to push on until our limit of strength was
reached.

By November 28 we had reached a truly awful surface, and poor Grisi,
who had been smitten with snow-blindness, had to be shot in the
evening. Having made Depot C. and left one week's provisions and oil
to carry us back to Depot B, we went on the next morning with 1200
lb. weight, which we decided to pull with the ponies, but we quickly
discovered that the ponies would not pull when we did, so we had to
untoggle our harness.

The whole country seemed to be made up of range upon range of
mountains, but the surface over which we were going was so bad that the
ponies sank in right up to their bellies, and we had to pull with might
and main to get the sledges to move.

By evening the ponies were nearly played out, especially old Quan,
who was suffering, not from the weight of the sledge, but from the
effort of lifting his feet and limbs through the soft snow, and on the
following days we had practically to pull his sledge.

The time had come for him to go, and I am sure that we all felt losing
him and I was especially sorry, as he had been my special pony for
several months. In spite of all his annoying tricks, his immense
intelligence made him a general favourite.




CHAPTER XXIV

"THE HIGHWAY TO THE SOUTH"


On December 1 we reached latitude 83° 16′ south and could see land
stretching away to the east with a long white line in front of it that
looked like a giant barrier. It seemed as though there was going to
be a change in some gigantic way in keeping with the vastness of our
surroundings.

At one moment our thoughts were on the grandeur of the scene, the next
on what we would have to eat if we were let loose in a good restaurant.
For we were very hungry in these days, and lived mainly on pony-meat,
while on the march, to cool our throats as we pulled in the hot sun, we
chewed frozen meat.

The four of us had, now that Quan was gone, to haul one sledge while
Socks followed behind with the other, and he soon got into our pace and
did splendid work. Although we were working only in shirts and pyjamas,
the sun beat down on our heads and we perspired freely, whilst our feet
were cold in the snow.

It was heavy work for us as the surface was as bad as it could be, but
soon after midday we got close enough to see that ahead of us were
enormous pressure ridges, heavily crevassed and running a long way
east, with not the smallest chance of our being able to get southing
that way any longer on the Barrier. So we had to strike due south in
toward the land, and in the evening were close to the ridges off the
coast.

There was a red hill about 3000 ft. near to us which we decided to
go up on the following day, so that we could gain a view of the
surrounding country. How anxious a time this was for us I need hardly
mention, for time was precious and food more so, and unless we could
find a good route through the mountains our way to the Pole was
well-nigh blocked.

Accordingly after breakfast we started off, leaving all camp gear
standing and a good feed by Socks to last him for the day. Our
allowance for lunch was four biscuits, four lumps of sugar, and two
ounces of chocolate each, and we hoped to get water at the first of the
rocks when we landed.

Hardly had we gone one hundred yards when we came to a crevasse, and,
finding it difficult to see clearly with my goggles, I took them off,
and in consequence was afterwards attacked by snow-blindness.

Several crevasses were successfully crossed, and then we were brought
up standing by an enormous chasm of about 80 ft. wide and 300 ft. deep
which lay across our route. By going round to the right we found that
this chasm gradually became filled with snow, and so we were able to
cross and resume our line to the land, which deceptively appeared quite
close but was really miles away.

Crossing several more crevasses, we reached about midday an area of
smooth blue ice where we obtained a drink of delicious water, and after
travelling for half a mile we got to the base of the mountain which
we hoped to climb so that we might view the country. At 1 P.M. we had
a couple of biscuits, and then started to make our way up the steep
rock-face.

This was the most difficult part of the whole climb, for the granite
was weathered and split in every direction, but at last we clambered
up this face, and finally gained the top of a ridge from which an open
road to the south burst upon our view. For running almost north and
south between two huge mountain ranges a great glacier stretched before
us.

Eagerly we clambered on to the top of the mountain, and from the summit
we could see the glacier stretching away south inland until at last it
seemed to disappear in high inland ice. This was what we had seen ahead
of us and speculated about so freely.

There was no longer any question as to the way which we should go, for
though on the glacier we might meet crevasses and difficulties not to
be met with on the Barrier, yet on the latter we could get no farther
than 86° south, and then would have to turn in towards the land and get
over the mountains before we could reach the Pole.

Our main difficulty on the glacier route would be, we thought, with
Socks, for as yet we could not hope to drag the full load ourselves
without relay work. All the afternoon of December 4 we toiled at the
sledge while Socks pulled his load with ease, and eventually we reached
the head of the pass, 2000 ft. above sea-level.

[Illustration: New Land. The Party ascended Mount Hope and sighted the
Great Glacier, up which they marched through the Gap. The main body of
the Glacier joins the Barrier further to the left. (_See page 130_)]

From that point there was a gentle descent towards the glacier, and
we camped for the night close to some blue ice with granite boulders
embedded in it, round which, were pools of water. This last fact may
seem unimportant, but it was really of consequence to us as this water
saved our oil, for we had not to melt snow or ice.

The pass through which we had come was flanked by great granite pillars
at least 2000 ft. in height, and which made a magnificent entrance to
the "Highway to the South."




CHAPTER XXV

ON THE GREAT GLACIER


The morning of December 5 saw us breaking camp at eight o'clock, and
proceeding south down an icy slope to the main glacier. Soon, however,
the ice slope gave place to a snow slope, and after a time the snow was
replaced by blue ice split by so many cracks and crevasses that it was
impossible for Socks to continue to drag the sledge without our risking
his life in one of the many holes.

Snow-blindness was still troubling me so much that I stayed in camp
after lunch was over, while Marshall and Adams went on to spy out a
good route for us to follow. They found that there was more cracked-up
blue ice ahead of us, and--what was much more remarkable--they also
discovered a bird, brown in colour with a white line under each wing,
which had flown just over their heads and had disappeared to the south.

Such an incident was wonderfully strange in latitude 83° 40′ south,
and what this bird was I am unable to say, for both Adams and Marshall
were sure that it was not a skua-gull, which was the only bird I could
imagine venturing so far south.

Our camp for that night was pitched under a wonderful pillar of
granite, and as pieces of granite, from the size of a hazel-nut to
great boulders weighing thirty tons or more, were lying all around, we
felt that at any moment a great piece of rock might come hurtling upon
us. On one snow slope, indeed, we could see the fresh track of a fallen
rock, but as it was impossible to spread a tent on the blue ice we were
compelled to camp, for half a mile of crevassed ice lay between us and
the snow slope to the south-south-west, and we were too tired to march
any farther.

We left a depot at this spot, and then, refreshed by sleep, we divided
up our load and managed to get the whole lot over the crevasses in
three journeys.

But it was an awful job, for every step was a venture, and one
felt that at any moment our journey towards the Pole might come
to a permanent close. Having, however, succeeded in crossing this
particularly dangerous half-mile, my companions (leaving me to rest
with one eye entirely blocked up by snow-blindness) went back for
Socks, and early in the afternoon we were once more camped upon snow.
During the rest of that day we had a wonderful view of the mountains
which rose up in peaks and ranges, but the going was exceedingly heavy
and our progress was consequently very slow.

He, however, who hopes to go into the unexplored spots of the world
must harden himself to labour, and find causes for cheerfulness in
conditions which are at the best only comparatively cheering. For
instance, on the following afternoon we were congratulating ourselves
that if the crevasses were as frequent as ever, the light, at any rate,
was better than it had been during the morning, when suddenly we heard
a shout of "Help" from Wild, who was following us with Socks.

Stopping immediately, we rushed to his assistance, and saw the pony
sledge with the forward end down a crevasse, and Wild reaching out from
the side of the gulf and hanging on to the sledge. There was no sign
whatever of Socks, and Wild's escape was simply miraculous.

He had been following our tracks, which passed over a crevasse entirely
covered with snow, when the weight of the pony had broken through the
snow crust and in a second all was over. Wild told us that he felt a
sort of rushing wind, that the leading rope was snatched from his hand,
and that he put out his arms and just caught the further edge of the
chasm.

Fortunately for Wild and for us, Socks's weight snapped the
swingle-tree of the sledge, so it was saved though the upper bearer was
broken.

We lay down on our stomachs and looked into the gulf, but no sound or
sign came to us; we seemed to be gazing down into a black bottomless
pit.

Poor Socks was gone beyond recall, but if ever men had cause for
gratitude we had in Wild's escape, and in the saving of the sledge.
If the sledge had gone we should have been left with only two
sleeping-bags for the four of us, and with such a short equipment we
could scarcely have even got back to winter quarters. As it was, the
loss of Socks was a most serious loss to us, because we had counted
upon his meat, but all we could do was to take on the maize so that we
could eat it ourselves.

Crevasses and pits of unknown depth continued to beset us, and with 250
lb. per man to haul we naturally could not march at any great rate;
indeed, our anxiety to find a level and inland ice-sheet, so that we
could increase our speed, was terrific.

[Illustration: Lower Glacier Depot. The Stores were buried in the Snow
near the Rock in the Foreground]

Falls, bruises, cut shins, crevasses, razor-edged ice, and heavy upward
pulls were the sum of our days' trials, not interesting subjects for
conversation when the night found us in camp; but, as a matter of fact,
our talk was mainly about food and the things we would like to eat. To
show how hungry we were, I have only to mention that by December 9 we
were all looking forward to Christmas Day, for then, whatever happened,
we were resolved to be full of food. On the tenth, after a day's
strenuous fight with the glacier, we camped under a mountain which we
named the "Cloud-Maker," and ground up the balance of the maize between
flat stones, so that we might use it to eke out our supply of food.

The method of preparation was as primitive as the food would have been
unpalatable to most people, but it was the only way we could make
the maize fit to cook without using more oil than we could spare for
lengthy boiling.

Critical as our position was, we were cheered by the thought that we
were still getting south, but the sledges were being badly damaged by
the continual ice-work, and as there were still 340 geographical miles
between us and the Pole, we longed for a surface which was a little
less like walking over a cucumber-frame. Of all the surfaces on which
to travel, none can be more irritating than that of rotten ice through
which one's feet are everlastingly breaking.

On such a surface, however, we could make a certain amount of progress,
and it was not until December 12 that we met with conditions which
reduced our progress for the day to a miserable three miles. Sharp-edge
blue ice full of chasms and crevasses, and rising to hills and sinking
into gullies, provided us with obstacles unequalled in any polar work
for difficulty in travelling. Under such circumstances we had to have
recourse to relay work, for we could only take on one sledge at a
time, two of us pulling while the others steadied and held the sledge
to keep it straight. In this way we advanced for a mile, and then
returned over the crevasses and hauled up the other sledges over a
surface where often and often a slip meant death.

In such rough-and-tumble work the sledges naturally suffered, and the
one with the broken bow frequently striking against hard, sharp ice,
pulled us up with a jerk and flung us down. In all our difficulties and
dangers, however, we found solace in the thought that the glacier must
eventually end and our longed-for plateau be reached.

By December 16 we had crossed nearly one hundred miles of crevassed
ice and risen 6000 ft. on the largest glacier in the world, and on
the following afternoon we burned our boats behind us as regards warm
clothing, and made a depot of everything except the barest necessities.
But relay work still hampered our progress towards our goal, and no
thirsty man ever longed for water with more eagerness than we longed
for the plateau and the end of that vast glacier.




CHAPTER XXVI

ON THE PLATEAU TO THE FARTHEST SOUTH


Never do I expect to meet anything more tantalising than the plateau on
which our hopes were set. By December 18 I thought that we were almost
up, and yet we had to go on and on, apparently unable to get rid of the
crevasses.

By this time we were fully conscious that food was to be the key to
our success or failure to reach the Pole, and we began to save food
in order to spin it out, a saving which made us almost ravenous with
hunger. Each day we saved two biscuits per man, and also some pemmican
and sugar, and we tried to satisfy our hunger by eating pony maize,
which we soaked in water to make it less hard. If only dreams prevented
one from hunger we should have been well off, for each night we all
dreamed of foods.

A week before Christmas we had food for thirty-five days, and were
about three hundred geographical miles from the Pole, with the same
distance back to the depot we had just made, so that at the best we
knew that we must march on short rations if we were to reach our goal.

Each succeeding day we hoped to get rid of the crevasses, but although
we were fortunate in having been favoured with splendid weather, we had
to camp each night sustained by the hope that on the morrow we should
really be upon the plateau, and by the thought that Christmas Day--with
its splendid dinner--was approaching.

By December 21--Midsummer Day--the weather had changed, and we
encountered 28° of frost and such a strong blizzard wind that both our
fingers and our ears were frost-bitten, while our beards were masses of
ice all day long. From the conditions I could easily imagine that we
were on a spring sledging journey, for such a chilly wind was blowing
that it found its way through the nearly worn-out walls of our tent.

Relay work still continued to hamper us, and on the 22nd we had to
work with the alpine rope all day, dragging 400 lb. at a time up steep
slopes and across ridges, and roping ourselves together when we went
back for the second sledge, because the ground was so treacherous that
often we were only saved by the rope from falling into fathomless pits.

[Illustration: The Camp below "The Cloudmaker"]

Wild described this sensation of walking over a surface of half-ice
and half-snow as like walking over the glass roof of a station, and so
accustomed did we become to crevasses that our usual question when any
of us fell into one was, "Have you found it?"

I suppose that we became callous as regards immediate dangers, though
I confess that we were always glad to meet crevasses with their coats
off, that is, not hidden by their perilous snow-coverings. Longing as
we were really to stretch out our legs for the Pole, it can easily be
imagined how irksome this constant succession of crevasses was. And
to add to our discomforts, the temperature had become so low that the
pony-maize refused any longer to swell in the water, the result being
that it swelled after we had eaten it.

Christmas Eve, however, brought a change in our fortunes, and was
much the brightest day we had enjoyed since entering our southern
gateway. We covered over eleven miles, and at night were 9095 ft. above
sea-level, and the way before us was still rising.

So far we had seen no sign of the very hard surface that Captain Scott
speaks of in connection with his journey on the Northern Plateau, but
we were determined not to give up hopes of better surfaces, for without
them we knew that we should not reach the Pole. As Christmas approached
our thoughts naturally turned to home and the festivities and joys of
the time. How greatly we longed to hear "the hansoms slurring through
the London mud" it is impossible to say. But instead of the sights and
sounds of London we were lying in a little tent, isolated high on the
roof of the end of the world, far indeed from the trodden paths of men.

Nevertheless our thoughts flew across the wastes of snow and ice, and
across the oceans to those for whom we were striving, and who, we knew,
were thinking of us.

By noon on Christmas Day we had by hard hauling covered over five
miles, and had reached a latitude of 85° 51′ south. Then I took a
photograph of the camp with the Queen's flag flying and also our tent
flags, my companions being in the picture, and in the evening we had a
splendid dinner, the details of which I cannot refrain from giving.

First came "hoosh," consisting of pony ration boiled up with pemmican
and some of our emergency Oxo and biscuit. Then in the cocoa-water I
boiled our little plum pudding, which a friend of Wild's had given
him. This, with a drop of medical brandy, was a luxury which the
greatest glutton living might have envied. And afterwards came cocoa;
and, lastly, cigars and a spoonful of liqueur sent us by a friend in
Scotland.

We were really satisfied for once, and as we knew that we should not
be in that happy state again for many a long day, we discussed the
situation after dinner and decided still further to reduce our food.

On Christmas Day we were nearly 250 geographical miles from the Pole,
and having one month's food but only three weeks' biscuit, we resolved
to make each week's food last ten days, and to throw away everything
except the most absolute necessities.

Already we were as regards clothes down to the limit, but at this time
we decided also to dump a lot of spare gear--and risk it.

Pulling 150 lb. per man, we spent our Boxing Day among ridges and
crevasses. Every time we reached the top of a ridge we said to
ourselves, "Perhaps this is the last," but the last was long in
coming. And in the meantime our maize was nearly finished, and our
rations were bound to be shorter than ever. Considering that hard
half-cooked maize gave us indigestion, it is, perhaps, curious that we
were very sorry that there was so little of it left, but those who have
suffered from both hunger and indigestion know too well which is the
harder to endure.

On December 28 we reached 10,199 ft. above sea-level and a latitude of
86° 31', and bad headaches--which were, I think, a form of mountain
sickness--began to attack us. The sensation was as though the nerves
were being twisted up with a corkscrew and then pulled out. Our sledge
was by this time badly strained, and on the dreadful bad surface
of soft snow was very hard to move; and when it is remembered that
physical labour of any kind is always trying at a great height, it is
not to be wondered at that we were beginning to feel nearly spent.

If the rise would only have stopped we could have endured the cold,
but the two together were terribly trying; and then, to add to our
unhappiness, the last day but one of the old year brought with it such
a blizzard from the south that we had to spend nearly the whole of it
in our sleeping-bags.

There we lay while precious time and food were going, and tried to
think how we could improve the situation, but all we could find to
console us was the resolution that if we could get near enough to
the Pole to rush for it, we would leave almost everything behind us
and make the attempt. The last day of the year brought us eleven
miles nearer to our goal, and although our heads were aching and the
shortness of food was telling on us terribly, we were, in spite of
everything, cheered by the thought that we were still _getting south_.

[Illustration: Facsimile or Page of Shackleton's Diary]




CHAPTER XXVII

FARTHEST SOUTH


By the evening of New Year's Day we were within 172½ miles of the Pole,
so we had managed to beat all records North and South, and we also had
hopes of a better surface--which were, unfortunately, not fulfilled.
Again we had to battle over very soft snow, and the cold wind seemed to
go right through us, weakened as we were from want of food.

Impossible as it was to think of failure yet, I compelled myself to
look at the matter sensibly and to consider the lives of those who
were with me. I felt indeed that if we went on too far it would be
impossible to get back over such a surface, and then all the results of
our efforts would be lost to the world.

We had now definitely located the South Pole on the highest plateau in
the world, and our geological and meteorological work would be of the
greatest use to science. But all this was not the Pole. And how sadly I
realised that I need not say.

Still, man could only do his best, and after ten hours' struggle
against the strongest forces of nature, one pannikin of food with two
biscuits and a cup of cocoa did but little to warm and comfort and
satisfy him.

I resolved to make a depot on the 4th and then to dash for the Pole,
and on that day we left a depot on the great wide plateau, a risk which
nothing but the circumstances could justify, but to which my companions
agreed with the regardlessness of self which they had always shown.

Pathetically small did the bamboo look which we left to mark the little
stock of provisions--indeed, we lost sight of it in half an hour, and
had to trust that our footprints in the snow would guide us back again
to the depot.

By night, however, I knew--and had to acknowledge--that our limit was
almost reached. We had only been carrying 70 lb. per man since we had
made our last depot, but it was harder work than the 100 odd lb. we had
been pulling the day before, and far harder than 250 lb. had seemed
some three weeks previously.

Nothing could more clearly have convinced me of our failing strength,
even if I could have shut my eyes to the facts that our faces were cut,
our feet and hands always on the verge of frost-bite, our boots nearly
worn out, and that when we got up in the morning out of the wet bag,
our Burberries became immediately like a coat of mail, and also that
our heads and beards got iced up with the moisture when breathing on
the march.

What we would have given at that time for a pair of scissors to trim
our beards I should not like to say, and had we known that we were
going to experience such cold weather we should certainly have kept a
pair.

The main things, indeed, against us were the altitude and ice-cold
wind. Nature had declared against us, and at the best I had to abandon
all hopes of getting nearer than 100 geographical miles to the Pole.

During the next day we were absolutely obliged to increase our food if
we were to get on at all, for our temperatures were far below normal,
and I had such a headache that I should be sorry for any living man who
had to endure such pain.

Never once had the thermometer been above zero since we had been on to
the plateau, though this was the height of summer, and on January 6 we
had to endure 57° of frost with a strong blizzard and high drift.

Still, helped by the bigger rations--which did not amount to
anything approaching full rations--we marched thirteen and a quarter
geographical miles and reached 88° 7′ south. But at night I had to
admit that this must be our last outward march, though I determined
that we would make one more rush south with the flag. With what
feelings of sadness I came to this decision I cannot even try to
describe. Only one thing softened our grievous disappointment, and
that was the conviction that we had striven to the very limit of our
strength, and had not given in until the forces of nature combined with
our scanty supply of food had conquered us.

Two days, however, had to be passed in our bags before we could make
the final dash with the flag, days of shrieking blizzard and piercing
cold, days in which our valuable food was going without our marching,
and in which we had a gloomy foreboding that our tracks, to which we
were trusting mainly to find our depot, might drift up.

Truly we realised that we had taken a most serious risk, and that we
were in a most critical situation, but we were partly sustained by the
fact that, at any rate, we had played the game to the last and utmost.

With 72° of frost the wind cut searchingly into our thin tent, and even
the drift found its way on to our bags, which were wet enough already.
Cramp kept on attacking us, and every now and then a frozen foot had to
be nursed into life again by placing it inside the shirt and next to
the skin of the sufferer's almost as suffering neighbour. To add to our
dreariness we had nothing to read, as we had depoted our little books
so that we might save weight.

[Illustration: The Farthest South Camp after sixty hours' Blizzard.
(_See page 144_)]

We had honestly and truly shot our bolt at last, and when the wind
dropped about midnight we were soon up and ready to struggle forward a
little further and hoist the flag as near to the South Pole as we could
possibly bear it.

At 9 A.M. on January 9 we were in latitude 88° 23' south, longitude
162° east, half running and half walking over a surface much hardened
by the recent blizzard, and it was indeed strange to us to go along
without the nightmare of that heavy sledge dragging behind us.

Soon the time came when we had to hoist Her Majesty's flag and
afterwards the other Union Jack, and then we took possession of the
plateau in the name of His Majesty. And while the Union Jack blew out
stiff in the icy gale which was still cutting us to the bone, we looked
south with our powerful glasses, but could see nothing but the dead
white snow plain.

No break in the plateau was to be seen as it extended toward the Pole,
and we felt absolutely sure that the goal which we had struggled
for--and failed to reach--lay on this plain.

We stayed only for a few minutes, and then, taking the Queen's flag
with us, we turned our backs upon the Pole and began to retrace our
steps. Regretfully it is true, but conscious that, though failure was
ours, we had done our best to avoid it.




CHAPTER XXVIII

THE RETURN MARCH


Our homeward marches are a tale of sufferings from hunger and
dysentery, of struggles against blizzards and crevasses and bad
surfaces. One desire drove us on from depot to depot, and that was our
supreme craving for food.

All of us had tragic dreams of getting food to eat, but rarely did
we have the satisfaction of dreaming that we were actually eating. I
did, however, once have a dream that I was eating bread and butter.
Conscience is said to make men cowardly, and I am sure that it is as
true to say that hunger makes them very peevish and irritable. We
looked at each other as we ate our scanty meals, and felt a distinct
grievance if one man managed to make his ration last longer than the
rest of us. Sometimes we did our best to save a bit of biscuit for the
next meal, but the problem whether it was better to eat the food at
once or to keep a fragment to nibble afterwards was never solved.

At the start circumstances may be said to have favoured us, for we
picked up the depot which we had ventured to leave on the great white
plain, and the wind was so strongly behind that we were able to put the
sail on the sledge.

In five days we had knocked off some eighty-six geographical miles of
those which separated us from our home, and as we were left with only
six days' biscuit on short ration and had to go 120 more miles before
we reached our next depot, we decided to cut down our food by another
biscuit.

A following wind continued to help us, and the sail was of such
assistance that on one day we made a record of twenty-six and a half
miles, and beat it on the next by doing twenty-nine miles.

But although to beat records is pleasant under any circumstances, my
own pleasure was rather diminished by the facts that my heels were
frost-bitten and cracked, and that there were also cracks under some of
my toes.

We had, however, struggled on until we were within eight and a half
miles of our depot, though had we been hindered instead of helped by
the strong blizzard wind, it is no exaggeration to say that our chance
of escaping starvation would have been inexpressibly small.

On the 20th we reached our depot at 12.30 P.M. with sore and aching
bodies, and after a struggle against countless difficulties. For two
hours we descended a snow-slope, with heavy sastrugi, and then we
struck half a mile of badly crevassed _névé_. After that we got on to
blue slippery ice, where we could obtain no foothold, and to add to the
discomfort and danger of the situation, a gale was blowing which swept
the sledge sideways and knocked us off our feet.

All of us had heavy falls, and I had two very heavy ones which shook
me severely. On several occasions one or more of us lost our footing
and were swept by the wind down the ice-slope, only with the greatest
difficulty getting back to our sledge and companions.

Bad, however, as that day was, and perilous as was our position, we had
said a glad farewell to that awful plateau, and were on our way down
the glacier.

On the next day I harnessed up for a while, but so bruised and battered
was I by my falls that I soon had to give up pulling and to content
myself by walking by the sledge. Fortunately we had a fair wind and a
downhill course, so my inability to pull was not an important matter.

The 24th saw us with only two days' food left and one day's biscuit
on much reduced ration, and we had to cover forty miles of crevasses
before we could reach our next depot. Crevassed ice still added
terribly to our troubles, but though weak I had almost recovered from
my falls.

[Illustration: Farthest South, January 9, 1909. (_See page 146_)]

Continually we seemed to be fighting for the same thing, to struggle
on from one depot to the next to save ourselves from starvation. A
lunch of a cup of tea, two biscuits, and two spoonsful of cheese does
not make one exactly buoyant to attack the march of the afternoon, but
by the 25th we were reduced to this, and at night the food, with the
exception of one meal, was completely gone.

No biscuit was left, and all we had to sustain us was cocoa, tea, salt
and pepper, and very little of these. On that night we were very tired
indeed, and we knew that it was absolutely necessary for us to reach
our depot on the following day. By 7 A.M. on the 26th we came to the
end of all our provisions except a little tea and cocoa, and that day
and the following one can never be erased from our memories, for they
were the hardest and the most trying that any of us had ever spent in
our lives.

From 7 A.M. on the 26th till 2 P.M. on the 27th we did sixteen
miles over the worst surfaces and most dangerous crevasses we had
encountered, only stopping for tea and cocoa till they were finished,
and marching twenty hours at a stretch through snow 10 to 18 in. thick
as a rule, with sometimes 2½ ft. of it. Often and often we fell into
hidden crevasses, and were only saved by each other and by our harness.
No words of mine could bring before you the mental and physical
strain of those forty-eight hours. I will only say that had not an
all-merciful Providence guided our steps we could never have arrived
safely at the depot.

When we started at 7 A.M. on the 26th we had no biscuit left, and with
only one pannikin of hoosh, mostly pony-maize, and one of tea, we
marched till noon. Then we had another pannikin of tea and one ounce
of chocolate and marched till 4.45 P.M. Having no food, we then had
another pannikin of tea and marched until 10 P.M., when we had one
small pannikin of cocoa. On again after that until 2 A.M., when we were
utterly played out and slept until 8 A.M. Then we had a pannikin of
cocoa and marched until 1 P.M., when we camped about half a mile from
our depot.

Both Adams and Wild had fallen exhausted in their harness, but had
recovered and gone on again. Marshall went on to the depot for food,
and at 2 P.M. we got the meal we so desperately needed. And after this
very near call we turned in and slept, thankful indeed to have escaped
so far with our lives.




CHAPTER XXIX

STRUGGLING BACK


At last we were on the Barrier again, and with six days' food and only
fifty miles between us and our next supply I thought that grave danger
was behind us. But the man who congratulates himself that anxieties
and perils are over, before he has reached the very end of his polar
exploration work is wasting his time.

In our case Wild developed dysentery, the cause of which we could only
ascribe to the horse-meat; while just before we left the glacier I
broke through some soft snow and plunged into a hidden crevasse. The
harness jerked up under my heart, and it seemed as though the glacier
were saying, "There is the last touch for you; don't you come up here
again!"

Certainly we were as tired of that glacier as it apparently was of us,
and our joy at leaving it was tremendous; for although the Barrier gave
us a most unfriendly greeting, we knew that a great many dangers were
over, and thought that nothing except blizzards and thick weather were
to be feared.

The Barrier, however, did not mean to be beaten by the glacier in
the way of treating us harshly, for during our first day on it we
were attacked by a wind which froze solidly all our wet clothes, and
five minutes after the wind had sprung up we were struck by a furious
blizzard of snow and heavy drift. Under the circumstances we had to
pitch our camp, and He in our bags, patching our worn-out clothes--a
rather tedious, if useful, pursuit when one was literally aching to go
on.

During the following days there was a variety in our misfortunes--a
variety, indeed, which was so terribly weakening that by the beginning
of February our outlook had become more serious than it had ever been.

Dysentery had attacked all of us acutely; but if there was a variety
in our troubles, there was none in our food, for we had only four
miserably thin biscuits a day to eke out our horse-meat.

On February 2 we reached our next depot, and started on the following
day with a new sledge and 150 lb. more weight. But on that day all of
us were suffering from dysentery, and Wild was very bad indeed.

On the 4th I wrote in my diary, "Cannot write more. All down with acute
dysentery; terrible day. No march possible; outlook serious. Fine
weather."

It gives me joy now to think that, anxious and spent as we were,
trusting indeed to God to pull us through, but too weary and weak to be
very hopeful or to care very much, we still hung on to the geological
specimens we had collected.

By the 6th we were all better, but we were terribly hungry, and six
biscuits per day and one pannikin of horse-meat each meal did nothing
to enable us to regain our strength. Indeed, my fear was that this
incessant hunger would weaken us so much that our return would never be
accomplished.

[Illustration: The Camp under the Granite Pillar, half a mile from the
Lower Glacier Depot, where the Party camped on January 27 (_See page
151_)]

On the 7th Adams and Marshall were again attacked by dysentery; and,
though Wild and I were free of it, all of us were pitiably weak. Still
we struggled on, starving for food, and talking about it all the time
as we advanced slowly towards the north.

The mounds which we had laid on our way out continued to guide us on
our return, and were a great comfort, but all our thoughts and our
conversation were about food. Wind and weather helped us through that
desperate time, or again in our weakened and starving condition we
could never have hoped to reach our next depot.

Assisted, however, as we were, we reached the depot on February 13
without a single particle of food left. There we found poor old
Chinaman's liver, and thought it a dish that kings might envy. We
looked round for any spare bits of meat, and while I was digging in
the snow I came across some hard red stuff, which turned out to be
Chinaman's blood frozen into a solid core. We dug it up, and in such
straits were we that we found it a most welcome addition to our food.
When boiled up, it seemed to us like beef-tea.

Truly I was in luck in those days, for the fifteenth of February was
my birthday, and I was given a present of a cigarette made out of pipe
tobacco and some paper we had with us. It tasted absolutely delicious.

Those, however, were glad moments in a most distressing time, for
on the day following my smoke all of us were again so appallingly
hungry, and consequently so weak, that even to lift our almost empty
provision-bag was an effort.

When we broke camp in the morning we pulled the tent off the poles
and took it down before we moved the things inside, for the effort of
lifting anything through the doorway was too much for us. At night we
sometimes had to lift our legs one at a time with both hands in getting
them into the tent, and after we had stiffened from the day's march it
seemed almost impossible to lift our feet without assistance.

On the 17th we had to march in a blinding blizzard, with 42° of frost,
but mercifully the wind was behind us; and although the sledge with the
sail up sometimes overran us and sometimes, getting into a patch of
soft snow, brought us up with a jerk, we were thankful that we had not
to face such a wind. The jerks, however, were very painful; for when we
were brought up suddenly, the harness round our weakened stomachs hurt
us very much indeed.

All of us had tragic dreams of getting food to eat, and with four men
as hungry as we were, I can assure you that it saves much envy if all
of them finish their meal at precisely the same moment. The man in our
party who managed to make his hoosh last longer than the rest of us was
not for the time being at all a popular man.

On the 18th we sighted Mount Discovery, and it seemed to be a
connecting link between us and our winter quarters. Its big, bluff form
showed out in the north-west, and we felt that this same mountain might
at the very moment be drawing the eyes of our own people. It looked
like a reminder that there was still a place called "home," and helped
to cheer us on our painful way.

Mount Erebus was sighted on the following morning, and if we had not
come to the end of our supplies again, except for some scraps of meat
scraped off the bones of Grisi after they had been lying on the snow
and in the sun for months, all would have been well. To eat these
however, was too great a risk until we were faced with absolute and
complete starvation, and on the following day we hoped to reach Depot A.

Calls to breakfast had long since been things of the past. The cook of
the day no longer said, "Come on boys; good hoosh," for no good hoosh
was to be had and in less time than it has taken me to write this out
food was finished, and then our hopes and thought lay wholly in the
direction of the next feed, so called from force of habit.

On the 20th we were impeded by such a bad light that we could only see
a little way; but by 4 P.M. we reached Depot A, at which was the tin
of jam that we had originally intended to eat on Christmas Day--and
never did jam taste more delightful! Our depoted tobacco and cigarettes
were also there, and apart from the intense enjoyment of a good smoke,
I felt sure that tobacco would make up for the shortage of food until
we reached the Bluff depot. This last depot was the one which I had
told Joyce to lay out, and which was the one ray of hope in front of us
during these days of hunger and disease.

At any rate, we had to stake upon finding provisions at the Bluff, for
we had not food enough to carry us back to the ship. In fact, if we did
not find it we were lost men Each time we took in another hole in our
belts we said that everything would be all right as soon as the Bluff
was reached, and so eager were we to reach the good things in store for
us that on the 21st we struggled on through a blizzard with as many as
67° of frost.

[Illustration: Shackleton standing by the broken Southern Sledge, which
was replaced by another at the Grisi Depot]

In ordinary polar work no one would think of travelling in such
weather, but our need was extreme and we had to keep on going. Food
lay ahead and death stalked us from behind. We were so thin that our
bones ached as we lay on the hard snow in our sleeping-bags. Was it to
be wondered at that, blizzard or no blizzard, we were determined to
struggle forward until we dropped?

And on the 22nd we had a splendid day, and came across the tracks of
men with dogs, which assured us that the depot had been laid all right.
Soon afterwards we passed their noon camp, and as tins were lying round
which had different brands from those of the original stores, we were
certain also that the ship had returned.

After carefully searching the ground for unconsidered trifles, we
found three small bits of chocolate and a tiny bit of biscuit, and we
"turned backs" for them. I was unlucky enough to get the biscuit, and
a curious and unreasoning anger took possession of me for a moment at
my bad luck. Nothing could show more strikingly how primitive we had
become, and how much the question of even a morsel of food affected our
judgment.

However, we were near to the Bluff, but though we felt certain that
food was going to be there in plenty, we also were occasionally beset
by the thought that if by some chance it was not, then all chance of
our safety was at an end.




CHAPTER XXX

THE FINAL STAGE


Early on the morning of the 23rd we broke camp, and in a few hours Wild
saw the Bluff depot miraged up. It seemed to be quite close, and the
flags were waving and dancing, as though to say, "Come, here I am; come
and feed!"

It was indeed a cheerful sight for weary and hungry men, and directly
we saw it we devoured the few biscuits we still possessed.

At 4 P.M. we reached this haven, and found that Joyce and his party
had done their work splendidly; and I, climbing to the top of it, told
those below of the glorious feeds awaiting us. Luxuries there were in
plenty: Carlsbad plums, cakes, eggs, plum puddings, and even fresh
boiled mutton from the ship. Apart, however, from these luxuries there
was an ample supply of ordinary sledging rations, so that we were safe
from a want of food, and had only to get back to the ship.

With what thankfulness we set upon our provisions those who have
not suffered from want and hunger cannot imagine. Suddenly we found
ourselves with meals fit for the gods, and with appetites that the gods
might have envied. Our contracted bodies, however, would not stand
the strain of much food, but I cannot express the relief it was to
know that we had only to stretch our hands to touch food, even if we
could not eat it. I lay writing in my bag that night with biscuits and
chocolate and jam beside me. I dare say this reminds the reader of a
greedy schoolboy; but it is true, and I see no reason to think that it
was anything but perfectly natural.

At the Bluff we did not receive much news of the _Nimrod_, except that
Evans, who had towed us down in the _Koonya_, was now in command of it;
and we heard nothing of either the northern or the western party.

Now our main object was to get back to the ship before she was
compelled to sail, and full of hope we proceeded on our way during the
24th.

On the following day, however, Marshall was attacked by paralysis
of the stomach and renewed dysentery, and as a blizzard was blowing
we decided to lie in our bags and wait. These misfortunes were
particularly distressing, for it was absolutely necessary to push on if
we were to catch the _Nimrod_. According to orders, the ship might very
possibly leave on March 1 if the Sound was not clear of ice, and we had
already arrived at February 26 in a year which unhappily was not Leap
Year.

On the 26th we did manage to do twenty-four miles, but although
Marshall never complained, he suffered severely, and as his dysentery
was getting worse and worse, I decided, on the afternoon of the 27th,
to leave him in the care of Adams, and to push ahead with Wild.

My hope was that we should pick up a relief party at the ship, and so
we hurried on with no sleep and with the briefest stoppages for meals,
until we had been marching for nearly twenty-four hours.

By this time our food was finished, and naturally we were very tired,
but although we kept on flashing the heliograph in the hope of
attracting attention from Observation Hill, where I thought a party
would be' on the look-out, there was no return flash.

Still, there was nothing to do except to push ahead, and once we
thought that we saw a party coming over to meet us, but to our sorrow
the "party" turned out to be a group of penguins at the ice edge.

At 2.30 P.M. we sighted open water ahead, but the weather had suddenly
become so thick that it was impossible to see far, and our arrival at
the ice edge was quite sudden and unexpected. The ice was swaying up
and down so warningly that to continue on that course was to run grave
risk of being carried out, so we decided to follow another route, seven
miles round by the other side of Castle Rock.

[Illustration: Return journey of the Southern Party: at the Bluff
Depot. (_See page 159_)]

At last, after what seemed a never-ending struggle, we reached Castle
Rock, from whence we could see that there was open water all round
the north. Indeed, it was a different home-coming from the one we had
anticipated.

Often on the Barrier and up on the plateau our thoughts had turned to
the day when we should return to winter quarters, but never had we
imagined that we should have to fight our way to the back door, so to
speak, in such a cheerless fashion.

At 7.45 P.M. we reached the top of Ski Slope, and from there both the
hut and the bay could be seen. But no sign of the ship could we find,
and no trace of life could be seen at the hut.

With our minds full of gloomy possibilities, we hurried on to the hut,
and discovered that every one had gone away.

A letter had been left for us stating that all the parties had been
picked up except ours, and that the ship would be sheltering under
Glacier Tongue until February 26. As it was already February 28 there
is no need to say how distressed we were at this new development of the
situation. For if the ship was gone, both the plight of the two men out
on the Barrier and of ourselves was a most serious one.

That was a bad night for Wild and myself, for although we were able
to have a good meal, we had left our sleeping-bags behind, and had to
wrap pieces of roofing-felt round us in our attempts to keep warm. Our
efforts were neither successful in that direction nor in that of trying
to signal for help. For we could not get the magnetic hut to light, and
we were so tired and cold that when we endeavoured to tie up the Union
Jack on the hill the knots were too much for us.

In the morning, however, we managed to make both of these signals, and
all our fears vanished with one glad swoop when we saw the ship in the
distance.

At 11 A.M. on March 1 we were once more on board the _Nimrod_, and I
will not attempt to describe the load which was suddenly lifted from
my shoulders, or the reception we received from our friends who had
given us up for lost, and who on that same day were going to send out a
search-party in the hope of finding some traces of us.

The ship brought us nothing but good news from the outside world, and I
found that every member of the Expedition was well, and that the work
laid down had been accomplished.

The immediate thing, however, to do was not to delay over these
splendid reports, but to bring in Adams and Marshall; and in the
afternoon I started off again from the Barrier edge with Mackay, Mawson
and McGillan, leaving Wild on the _Nimrod_.

We found that Marshall's health had been improved by the rest, but the
march renewed the attack, and it was with feelings of great relief that
we at length got him back to winter quarters and put him to bed.

By 1 A.M. on March 4 we were all once more safe on board the _Nimrod_;
but Adams, after surviving all the dangers of the interior of the
Antarctic continent, was nearly lost within sight of safety. Owing to
the fact that he was wearing new finnesko he slipped at the ice edge,
and only just managed to save himself from going over, and to hang on
until he was rescued by a party from the ship. He had begun with a
painful accident and nearly finished with a fatal one.

       *       *       *       *       *

The Southern Party were in safety once more, but how often and often we
were almost hopeless of ever making our way back to the ship I cannot
say. We had taken our lives in our own hands, and God had preserved
them. Perils from starvation, disease, and sudden death had surrounded
us, and as we had learned to know what it is to suffer and to endure,
we had also learned what it is to feel supremely grateful for mercy and
for guidance.




CHAPTER XXXI

NOTES ON THE SOUTHERN JOURNEY


We brought back with us from our march towards the Pole vivid memories
of how to feel intensely, fiercely hungry.

From November 15, 1908, until February 23, 1909, we had but one full
meal on Christmas Day, and even then scarcely any time had passed
before we were as hungry as ever. Our daily allowance of food would
have been a small one for a city worker in a temperate climate, and in
our own case hunger was increased by the fact that we were performing
vigorous labour in a very low temperature.

When our evening meal was prepared we used to "turn backs" in order to
ensure fair divisions of the food. The cook used to pour the hoosh into
pannikins and arrange the biscuits in four heaps, and as soon as we
were all satisfied that the divisions were equal one man would turn his
back, and another, pointing at one lot, would say "Whose?"

[Illustration: The Southern Party on board the "Nimrod." Left to right:
Wild, Shackleton, Marshall, Adams. (_See page 164_)]

Then the man with his back turned would mention a name, and so the
distribution proceeded, each of us feeling sure that the smallest share
had fallen to his lot.

On alternate days we had chocolate and cheese for lunch, and since
the former was more satisfying and easier to divide we infinitely
preferred it. Considering how greatly we depended during our march upon
pony-meat, the reader will readily understand that the loss of Socks
was a terrible blow to us.

If we had been able to use poor Socks for food there is no doubt that
we should have been able to get further south, and perhaps even have
reached the Pole itself. But I must also mention that had we managed to
get to the Pole, we could scarcely have caught the ship before she was
compelled to leave by the approach of winter.

During the last weeks of the journey outwards, and the long march back
when our allowance had been reduced to twenty ounces per man a day, I
confess without one atom of shame that we really thought of little but
food. Man becomes very primitive when he is desperately hungry, and
neither the glory of the mountains that towered high on our sides, nor
the majesty of the great glacier up which we travelled so painfully,
appealed to any extent to our emotions.

I used often to find myself wondering whether people who suffer from
hunger in the big cities of civilisation felt as we were feeling, and I
concluded that they did not, for no barrier of law and order would have
been allowed to stand between us and any food that had been available.
The difference must be that the man who starves in a city is weakened
and hopeless and without spirit while we--until nearly the end--were
vigorous and keen.

We could not joke about food in any way that is possible for the man
who is hungry in the ordinary sense. True we thought and talked about
it most of the time, but always in the most serious manner.

On the outward march we were not severely hungry until we reached
the great glacier, and then we were so occupied with the dangers of
climbing and of crossing crevasses that we were unable to talk much.
And afterwards on the plateau our faces were generally so covered with
ice that unnecessary conversation was out of the question.

It was on the march back, after we had got down the glacier, and were
tramping over the Barrier surface that we talked freely of food.
Strange feelings, indeed, did I have when I looked back over our notes,
and saw the wonderful meals that we promised to eat when we could get
inside a really good restaurant.

We used to tell each other, with perfect seriousness, about the new
dishes that we had thought of, and if the dish met with general
approval there would be a chorus of "Ah! That's good."

The "Wild roll" was admitted to be the high-water mark of gastronomic
luxury. He proposed that the cook should take a supply of well-seasoned
minced meat, wrap it in rashers of fat bacon, and place around the
whole an outer covering of rich pastry so that it would take the form
of a big sausage-roll. Then this roll was to be fried with plenty of
fat.

My best dish, which I admit I put forward with a good deal of pride
as we marched over the snow, was a sardine pasty. And I remember that
one day Marshall came forward with a proposal for a thick roll of
suet pudding with plenty of jam all over it, and there arose quite a
heated argument whether he could claim this dish to be an invention,
or whether it was not the jam roll already known to the housewives of
civilisation.

One point there was on which we were all agreed, and that was our wish
not to have any jellies or things of that sort at our future meals. The
idea of eating such slippery stuff as jelly did not appeal in the least
to any one of us.

Perhaps all this sounds very greedy and uncivilised to anyone who has
never been on the verge of starvation, but I wish to say again that
hunger makes a man primitive. Not a smile broke from us as we planned
wonderful feats of over-eating, in truth we were intensely serious
about the matter, and we noted down in the back pages of our diaries
details of feasts we would have when we got back to the land of plenty.

The dysentery from which we suffered was certainly due to the meat
from the pony Grisi. This animal was shot when greatly fatigued, and
I think that his flesh was poisoned by the presence of the poison of
exhaustion, as is the case with animals that have been hunted. The
manner in which we contrived to continue marching when suffering, and
the speed with which we recovered when we got good food, were rather
remarkable, and the reason doubtless was that the dysentery was due to
poison, and was not produced by organic trouble.

Providentially we had a strong wind behind us during that period of
distress and this assuredly saved us, for in our weakened state we
could not have made long marches against a head-wind, and without long
marches we would have starved between the depots.

In the early part of the journey over the level Barrier surface we felt
the heat of the sun severely, although the temperature was very low. It
was quite usual to feel one side of the face getting frozen while the
other side was being sunburnt. Later on when our strength had begun to
lessen, we found great difficulty in hoisting the sail on our sledge,
because when we lifted our arms over our heads to adjust the sail, the
blood ran from our fingers and they promptly froze. Our troubles with
frost-bite were doubtless due partly to the lightness of our clothing,
but there was compensation for this in the greater speed with which we
were able to travel.

I am convinced that men engaged in polar exploration should be
clothed as lightly as possible, even if they are in danger of being
frost-bitten when they halt on the march. We owe many grudges against
the glacier which caused us so many difficulties, but my chief one now
is that we brought back no photographs of a very interesting portion
of it. This was due to the facts that we expected to take as many
photographs as we had plates to spare on our return journey, and that
when we returned we were so short of food that we could not afford the
time to unpack the camera.

The glacier itself presented every variety of surface, from soft snow
to cracked and riven blue ice, but later the only constant feature were
the crevasses, from which we were never free.

Some were entirely covered with a crust of soft snow, and we discovered
them only when one of us broke through and hung by his harness from
the sledge. Others occurred in mazes of rotten ice, and were even more
difficult to negotiate than the other sort. The sledges, owing to their
length, were not liable to slip down a crevasse, and when we were
securely attached to them by their harness we felt fairly safe, but
when the surface was so bad that relay work was necessary we used to
miss the support of a sledge on the back journeys.

We would advance one sledge half a mile or a mile, put up a bamboo pole
to mark the spot, and then go back for the other. For the walk back we
were always roped together, but even then we felt a great deal less
secure than when harnessed to one of the long, heavy sledges.

One piece--or two pieces--of fortune we assuredly did have upon the
glacier, for both when we were struggling up and scrambling down it
the wind was behind us. But on the glacier we were often troubled at
night by the fact that there was no snow on which to pitch our tent,
and consequently when we were weary after the day's march an hour had
frequently to be spent in smoothing out a space for the camp on a
rippled, sharp-pointed sea of ice.

The provision bags and sledges were packed on the snow cloths round the
tents and it was indeed fortunate for us that we met no bad weather
while we were marching up the glacier. Had a blizzard come on while we
were asleep, it would have scattered our goods far and wide, and we
would have been faced with a most serious situation.

The upper glacier depot was overhung by great cliffs of rock, shattered
by the frosts and storms of countless centuries, and many fragments
were poised in such a fashion that scarcely more than a touch seemed
necessary to bring them hurtling down. All around us on the ice lay
rocks that had recently fallen, and it was not a comforting sensation
to feel that at any moment a huge boulder might drop upon our camp.

We had no choice of a camping-ground, as all around was rough ice. The
cliffs were composed largely of weathered sandstone, and it was on the
same mountain higher up on the glacier that Wild discovered coal, at a
point where the slope was comparatively gentle.

[Illustration: The "Nimrod" pushing through heavy Pack Ice on her way
South. (_See page 174_)]

One of our greatest disappointments was that the last ridge of the
great glacier having been passed and the actual plateau gained, we did
not meet with a hard surface, such as the _Discovery_ expedition had
encountered in the journey to the plateau beyond the west of McMurdo
Sound, but still had to battle with soft snow and hard sastrugi.

After the fierce blizzard which raged from the night of January 6 until
the morning of January 9, we had better conditions under which to make
our final march southwards, for the wind had swept away the soft snow
and unencumbered with the sledge we could advance more easily.

In reviewing the experience gained on the southern journey, I do not
think that I could suggest any important improvements in equipment for
future expeditions. Evidently the Barrier surface varies remarkably,
and the traveller must be prepared for either a very hard or a very
soft surface, both of which he may encounter in the same day's march.

On the glacier we should have been glad to have had heavy Alpine boots
with nails all round, but as the temperature is too cold to permit of
the explorer wearing ordinary leather boots, some boot would have to be
designed which was at once warm enough for the feel and strong enough
to carry the nails.

Our clothing proved to be quite satisfactory, but experience goes to
show that a party which hopes to reach the Pole must take more food per
man than we did I would in no case take cheese again, for chocolate is
more palatable and easier to divide.

Each member of our Southern Party had his own particular duties to
perform, Adams being responsible for the meteorological observations
which involved--among other duties--the taking of temperatures at
regular intervals. Marshall took the meridian altitudes, and the angles
and bearings of all the new land, and his work was most discomforting,
for at the end of a day's march and often at lunch-time as well, he
would be compelled to stand in the biting wind handling the screws of
the theodolite. He also prepared the map of the journey and took most
of the photographs.

Wild attended to the repair of the sledges and equipment, and also
assisted me in the geological observations and the collection of
specimens. My other work was to keep the courses and distances, and to
work out observations and lay down our directions.

I kept two diaries, one my observation book, and the other a narrative
diary. But although all of us kept diaries we were more often than I
care to remember too spent and cold at night to pay much attention to
them.




CHAPTER XXXII

THE RETURN OF THE "NIMROD"


During the winter the _Nimrod_ had been laid up in Port Lyttelton, and
had been thoroughly overhauled so that she should once more be ready to
battle with the ice. Captain F. P. Evans had been appointed master of
the ship under my power of attorney, Captain England having resigned
on account of ill-health, and towards the end of the year sufficient
stores were taken on board to provide for a party staying at Cape
Royds through the winter, in case one of the sledging-parties had not
returned, and also to provide for the ship if she herself was frozen
up.

The _Nimrod_ left Lyttelton again on December 1, 1908, and enjoyed fine
weather for the voyage southwards, the experience of Captain Evans
on this voyage going to show that, under normal conditions, the pack
that stretches out from the Barrier to the eastward of the Ross Sea is
impenetrable, and that the _Discovery_ was able to push to within sight
of King Edward VII Land in 1902 because the ice was unusually open
during that season. Twenty-eight miles from Cape Royds fast ice was
encountered, and as there seemed to be no immediate possibility of the
ship being able to proceed, Captain Evans decided to send Mackintosh
with three men to convey a mail-bag to the winter quarters. No very
great difficulties were anticipated for this expedition, but as it
turned out, not only difficulties but also dangers and almost death
were to be met with.

On January 3 Mackintosh set out with McGillan, Riches and Paton, but in
the afternoon Riches and Paton returned to the ship and Mackintosh and
McGillan proceeded alone.

On the second day their way was blocked by open water with pressure ice
floating past, and although they walked for two hours in a westerly
direction to see how far the water reached, they did not get to the end
of it. The whole of the ice to the southward seemed to be moving, and
as the open water seemed to take away any possibility of reaching Cape
Royds, they started back to the ship.

Presently Mackintosh discovered that there was also open water ahead
of them, blocking the way to the ship, and a survey of the position
revealed the unpleasant fact that the floe-ice was breaking up
altogether, and that they were in serious danger of drifting out into
the Sound. Safety lay only in a hurried dash for the shore to the
east, and every two hundred yards or so they had to drag their sledge
to the edge of a floe, jump over a lane of water, and then with a big
effort pull the sledge after them.

After an hour of this work their hands were cut and bleeding, and their
clothes were frozen as stiff as boards, for they had frequently slipped
and fallen when crossing from floe to floe. At last, however, they
approached the land, and came to a piece of glacier ice that formed a
bridge. The floe that they were on was moving rapidly, so they had to
make a great effort and drag the sledge over a six-foot breach. They
succeeded in doing this and were in a safe position again, but had they
been fifteen minutes later they would have been lost, for by that time
there was open water where they had gained the land.

Near this spot they decided to camp, and McGillan was almost at once
so badly attacked by snow-blindness that his face was badly swollen
and his eyes tightly closed. So bad indeed was McGillan that, until
Mackintosh could bear the pain no longer in silence, he did not know
that his companion was suffering from the same complaint as himself.

For several days they stayed in camp, and when their eyes were better
they studied the bird-life of the neighbourhood, until, tired of seeing
no sign of the ship. Mackintosh decided that they would leave the heavy
mail-bag in their tent and march to Cape Royds. Then followed one of
those battles against crevasses and hidden dangers with which those
who take part in polar exploration are too intimately acquainted. Once
McGillan fell into a yawning chasm and was only held up on a projection
of ice, and frequently one slip would have meant the end of all things
in this world for both of them.

At last a point was reached at which their way was blocked in every
direction by crevasses, ascent was no longer possible, and below them
lay a steep slope running down for about 300 ft. What lay at the bottom
they could not tell, but their case was desperate and they decided to
glissade down.

Their knives, which they attempted to use as brakes, were torn from
their grasp, but they managed to keep their heels in the snow and to
reach the bottom in safety.

Hunger had seized them for they had practically no food left, but two
hours after they had dashed down the slope they could see Cape Royds
and hoped soon to be at the winter quarters.

Immediately afterwards, however, such thick snow began to fall that
they could not see two yards ahead, and for hours they were stumbling
along in the blinding storm. Occasionally they rested for a few
minutes, but icicles hung from their faces, and they did not dare to
stay still for long.

Heavy snow continued to cut off all view of the surrounding country,
and they had been wandering for twenty-seven hours after their
glissade, when Day found them in a state of complete exhaustion, and
just staggering along because they knew that to stop meant death. Had
not Day been outside the hut--to which the travellers had no idea they
were close--watching for the return of the ship, that expedition,
undertaken so light-heartedly, must almost certainly have been a fatal
one to Mackintosh and McGillan.

The two weary men reached the hut on January 12, but a week before that
date the _Nimrod_ had arrived at Cape Royds, and had gone north again
to search for them. Doomed to disappointment and horror were the men
at the hut when they learned that not only were they not to have any
letters, but that also Mackintosh and McGillan had left the ship on the
3rd to try to bring the letters more quickly over the sea-ice and over
the bay, which even then was filled with loose pack and which a few
days before had been open water.

[Illustration: The "Nimrod" held up in the Ice. (_See page 178_)]

On January 7 the _Nimrod_ left Cape Royds again to seek for the
lost men, and in a few hours was beset by ice, and so remained for
practically the whole of the time between the 7th and the 15th. On
the afternoon of the 16th, however, the ship cleared the ice, and
approached the only piece of shore on which there was a chance of
finding Mackintosh and McGillan. Near the end of a stretch of beach a
small patch of greenish colour was seen, and the telescope revealed
the details of a deserted camp and a tent torn to ribbons. A boat
was at once sent ashore, and the bag of letters was discovered, and
also a note from Mackintosh telling of his risky attempt to cross the
mountains.

As Murray, who was on the ship, knew the frightfully crevassed
character of the ground which Mackintosh and McGillan had determined to
cross, little hope of their safety remained.

Judge, then, the joy of those on board the _Nimrod_ when two men came
out to meet the ship on its arrival at Cape Royds, and one of them was
seen to be McGillan.




CHAPTER XXXIII

THE WESTERN PARTY


How well Joyce and his party, consisting of Mackintosh, Day and Martin,
placed a depot of stores about fourteen miles off Minna Bluff, and how
glad the Southern Party were to find them there has already been told.

In the depoting of these stores Joyce made two journeys, starting for
the first from winter quarters on January 15 and returning to Hut Point
on January 31, and leaving there again with a second load of stores
(which had been brought by a party from the _Nimrod_) and reaching the
Bluff Depot for the second time on February 8.

On their re-arrival at this depot they found, to their surprise, that
the Southern Party had not appeared, and for some days Joyce and his
companions searched the horizon with glasses, in the hope of sighting
the overdue travellers.

They waited until the Southern Party was eleven days after the time
fixed for their return, and then decided to lay a depot flag in towards
the Bluff so that by no chance could the food be missed, and, secondly,
to march due south to look for the Southern Party. In this march they
were, as is known, unsuccessful in finding the weary travellers, and
eventually they returned to the Bluff Depot and found everything as
they had left it.

Filled with gloomy thoughts as to the fate of Adams, Marshall, Wild and
myself--for we were then eighteen days overdue--they started on the
16th to march back to the coast. But although they did not find us,
they had nevertheless saved our lives by the provisions they had so
laboriously brought to the depot.

At the same time that we of the Southern Party were fighting our way
towards the Pole, the Western Party, consisting of Armytage, Priestley
and Brocklehurst, were working in the western mountains.

On December 9 they left winter quarters and reached the "stranded
moraines" four days later. These moraines, which were found by the
_Discovery_ expedition, are relics of the days of more extensive
glaciation, and as they present a most varied collection of rocks they
are of very great interest.

There the party succeeded in securing a large number of skuas' eggs,
but the anticipated feast was not enjoyed, for, to quote the words of
one of the expedition, only about a dozen of the eggs were "good enough
for eating." The other eggs were thrown on the snow near the tent, with
the result that there was an invasion of skuas, the birds not only
eating the eggs but also making themselves a nuisance by pulling about
the sledge-harness and the stores. Geological specimens this party
secured in valuable abundance, and, as was the case with the other
sledging expeditions that were out at the time, a special feast was
provided for Christmas Day.

That Priestley enjoyed this feast is shown by his diary, in which he
wrote, "The plum pudding was 'top-hole.' Must remember to give one of
the pot-holed sandstones to Wild for the New Zealand girl who gave him
the plum pudding."

This party were on the look-out for the men who had gone north in
search of the Magnetic Pole, but failing to find any sign of them, they
went back to their depot on January 14 and pitched camp to wait for
the Northern Party until the 25th, when they were either to make their
way back to winter quarters or to signal for the ship by means of the
heliograph.

On the 24th, however, this party had the narrowest escape from never
seeing either winter quarters or the _Nimrod_ again. They were camped
on the sea-ice at the foot of Butter Point, in a position which to
all appearances was one of safety. Armytage indeed had examined the
tide-crack along the shore and had found no signs of more than
ordinary movement, and the ice all round seemed to be quite fast.

[Illustration: The Bluff Depot. (_See page 179_)]

But early in the morning of the 24th, Priestley, who was first out
of the tent, abruptly dispelled any feelings of security that his
companions possessed. At once he discovered that the ice they were on
had broken away and was drifting north to the open sea, and, returning
to tell the others, they immediately turned out, to find that this
statement was only too true. Two miles of open water already intervened
between the floe and the shore, and they were to all appearances moving
steadily out.

"When," Armytage wrote in his report, "we found that the ice had gone
out, we loaded up the sledge and started to see whether we could get
off the floe to the north. The position seemed to be rather serious,
for we could not hope to cross any stretch of open water, there was no
reasonable chance of assistance from the ship, and most of our food was
at Butter Point. We had not gone very far to the north when we came
to an impassable lane of open water, and we decided to return to our
original position. We went into camp and had breakfast at 11 A.M."

After that the three men waited for some time on the off-chance of
the ship coming along one of the lanes and picking them up, or of the
current changing and the ice once more touching the shore, but at the
end of four anxious hours there was no improvement in their position.
Killer-whales were spouting in the channels, and occasionally bumping
the ice under the floe.

Unable to wait any longer, the party marched right round the floe
but met with open water in every direction, and at 10 P.M. they were
back in their old position, only encouraged by the fact that they had
apparently stopped moving north, and were possibly getting a little
nearer to fast ice again.

Soon afterwards Brocklehurst turned out to see if the position had
changed, and reported that the floe seemed to be within a few hundred
yards of the fast ice, and was still moving in that direction. Then
Armytage got up, and half an hour later saw that the floe was only
about two hundred yards off fast ice.

"I ran back," he reported, "as fast as I could, deciding that there was
a prospect of an attempt to get ashore proving successful, and gave the
other two men a shout.

They struck camp and loaded up within a few minutes, while I went back
to the edge of the floe at the spot towards which chance had first
directed my steps. Just as the sledge got up to me I felt the floe
bump the fast ice. Not more than six feet of the edge touched, but we
were just at that spot, and we rushed over the bridge thus formed. We
had only just got over when the floe moved away again, and this time
it went north to the open sea. The only place at which it touched the
fast ice was that to which I had gone when I left the tent, and had I
happened to go to any other spot we would not have escaped."

After this Providential deliverance from a perilous situation, the
party made their way back to Butter Point and camped about 3 A.M.; and
when they got up some hours later open water was to be seen where they
had been drifting on the floe, and also the _Nimrod_ was sighted some
miles out.

The heliograph was flashed to the vessel, and in the afternoon the
party--having left a depot of provisions and oil at Butter Point in
case the northern travellers should arrive there--were safe on board
again.

Towards' the end of January fine weather was very rare, for the
season was advanced, and consequently the fast ice remaining in the
Sound began to break up quickly and took the form of pack trending
northwards.

The waiting for the other parties to come in was unpleasant for the
remaining members of the shore-party and for those on board the ship,
because the time was approaching when the _Nimrod_ must either leave
for the north or be frozen in for the winter. And still both the
Southern and the Northern Parties tarried.

Instructions had been left that if the Northern Party had not returned
by February 1, a search was to be made along the western coast in a
northerly direction. This party by that time was three weeks overdue,
and so Captain Evans proceeded north with the _Nimrod_ on the 1st, and
began closely to examine the coast. This search was both dangerous and
difficult, for Captain Evans had to keep near to the coast, in order
to guard against the chance of missing any signal, and the sea was
obstructed by pack-ice. The work, however, was done most thoroughly
in the face of what Captain Evans afterwards described as "small
navigational difficulties."




CHAPTER XXXIV

INSTRUCTIONS FOR THE NORTHERN PARTY


The Northern Party, which consisted of Professor David, Douglas Mawson,
and Alistair Mackay, was under the command of the Professor, and the
tale of their adventures will be related by himself. But before the
party set out upon this important expedition I gave final instructions
to them, an extract from which is given.

[Illustration: The Motor hauling Stores for a Depot. (_See page 188_)]

  "Dear Sir," I wrote to the Professor, "you will leave winter
  quarters on or about October 1, 1908. The main objects of your
  journey to be as follows:

  "(1) To take magnetic observations at every suitable point, in
  order to determine the dip and position of the Magnetic Pole; and
  if time, equipment, and supplies are sufficient, you will try to
  reach the Magnetic Pole.

  "(2) To make a general geological survey of the coast of Victoria
  Land; this work, however, is not to interfere with your attempt to
  reach the Pole.

  "(3) I particularly wish you to be able, to work at the geology of
  the Western Mountains, and for Mawson to spend at least a fortnight
  at Dry Valley to prospect for minerals of economic value on your
  return from the north. I do not wish to limit you to an exact date
  for return to Dry Valley, if you think that by lengthening your
  stay up north you can reach the Magnetic Pole; but I consider that
  the thorough investigation of this valley is of supreme importance.

  "(4) The _Nimrod_ is expected in the Sound about January 15, 1909.
  If the ship is not in, or if she does not see your signals, you
  will take into account your supply of provisions, and proceed
  either to Glacier Tongue or Hut Point to replenish, if you have not
  sufficient provisions at Butter Point.

  "(5) At Butter Point a depot of at least fourteen days' food and
  oil will be laid for you.

  "(6) I shall leave instructions for the master of the Nimrod to
  proceed to the most accessible point at the west coast and there
  ship all your specimens.

  "(7) If by February 1, after the arrival of the _Nimrod_, there is
  no evidence that your party has returned, the Nimrod will proceed
  north along the coast, looking out for your signals.

  "(8) Should any accident happen to you, Mawson is to be in charge
  of the party.

  "(9) Trusting that you will have a successful journey and a safe
  return,

                "I am, yours faithfully,
                   "(Signed) Ernest H. Shackleton.
                               "_Commander._"

In addition to these instructions, I also wrote to the Professor:

  "Dear Sir,--If you reach the Magnetic Pole, you will hoist the
  Union Jack on the spot, and take possession of it on behalf of the
  above expedition for the British nation.

  "When you are in the Western Mountains, please do the same at one
  place, taking possession of Victoria Land as part of the British
  Empire.

  "If economic minerals are found, take possession of the area in the
  same way on my behalf as commander of this expedition.

                "Yours faithfully,
                   "(Signed) Ernest H. Shackleton.
                               "_Commander._"

This letter was dated September 20, 1908, and on that same night we
gave a farewell dinner to the Northern Party.




CHAPTER XXXV

THE NARRATIVE OF PROFESSOR DAVID WE START FOR THE MAGNETIC POLE


The first thing to be done in connection with our attempt to reach
the Magnetic Pole was to lay depots, and so on September 25, after
delay from bad weather, Priestley, Day and I (David) started in the
motor-car, dragging behind us two sledges over the ice.

One sledge with its load weighed 606 lb., the other 250 lb., and as
soon as Day put the car on her second gear we sped over the floe-ice
at a rate of fourteen miles an hour, much to the admiration of the
seals and penguins. Accidents, however, both to the car and to Day, who
alone of us could be trusted to drive it, hindered us from making our
final start until October 5. On that day Brocklehurst took a photograph
of the Northern Party and soon afterwards we boarded the car and the
sledges and, cheered by those remaining behind, proceeded on our way.

At first Day, Priestley and Roberts accompanied us, but we had only
gone a little over two miles, when the snow had become so thick that I
did not think it prudent to take the car farther, and accordingly we
had to say good-bye to our companions. Strapping on our harness, we
toggled on to the sledge rope, and with a "One, two, three and away,"
we began our long journey over the sea-ice.

On the following morning we had to start our relay work, and dragged
the Christmas Tree sledge on first, as we were specially liable to lose
parcels off it, for a distance of nearly half a mile. Then we returned
and fetched up what we called the Plum Duff sledge, chiefly laden with
our provisions.

After a heavy day's work on the following day, we camped for the night
close to a seal-hole which belonged to a fine specimen of Weddell seal,
but our slumbers were disturbed by the snorting and whistling of the
seals as they came up for their blows.

The seals, however, were nothing to the Emperor penguins, which
awakened us by their chatter on the morning of the 10th. Evidently
they had marched down on our tent during the night to investigate us,
and the sounds they made may be described as something between the
cackle of a goose and the chortle of a kookaburra.

I saw four of them standing by the sledges, and when they caught sight
of me they were much interested, and the conversation between them
became very lively. I have no doubt that they took us for penguins of
an inferior type, and the tent for our nest. At any rate, they were
kind enough to take careful note of our doings, and to give us a good
send-off when we left them.

During that day a blizzard was behind us, and as the strength of it
increased we found that we could draw both sledges at the same time,
which was, of course, a great saving of labour. Tempted, however, to
continue our march under these favourable conditions, we went on longer
than was wise, with the result that when we stopped it was extremely
difficult to get the tent up.

Slipping the tent over the poles placed close to the ground in the lee
of the sledge, two of us raised the poles while the other shovelled
snow on to the skirt of the tent, which we pulled out by degrees until
it was finally spread to its full dimensions. Glad indeed were we to
turn in and escape from the biting blast and drifting snow.

This violent blizzard blew throughout the whole of the next day, and
we spent it for the most part in our sleeping-bags; but on the 13th we
arrived at Butter Point, which is merely an angle in the low ice-cliff
near the junction of the Ferrar Glacier valley with the main shore of
Victoria Land, and made a depot there.

Altogether we lightened our load by about 70 lb., and we also
left letters there for Lieutenant Shackleton and R. E. Priestley
respectively, stating that in consequence of our late start from Cape
Royds, and also on account of the slowness of our progress thence
to Butter Point, we could not return to the Point until January 12
at the earliest, instead of the first week in January, as had been
anticipated. Months later we heard that this little depot survived the
blizzards, and that Armytage, Priestley and Brocklehurst had read our
letters.

A few days later we landed at Cape Bernacchi, and on October 17 we
hoisted the Union Jack and took possession of Victoria Land for the
British Empire. The geology of Cape Bernacchi is extremely interesting,
the dominant type of rock being a pure white coarsely crystalline
marble, which has been broken through by granite rocks, the latter in
places containing small red garnets.

On the next day we reached a headland where the rocks resembled those
at Cape Bernacchi, and Mawson considered that some of the quartz veins
traversing this headland would prove to be gold-bearing.

That same night I was attacked by snow-blindness through neglecting to
wear my snow-goggles regularly, and as I was no better when the time
came for us to march, I asked Mawson to take my place at the end of the
long rope, the foremost position in the team. So remarkably proficient
was he on this occasion, and afterwards, at picking out the best track
for our sledges and in steering a good course, that at my request he
occupied this position throughout the rest of the journey.

Uneventful days followed, but by the 23rd it was quite clear that at
our rate of travelling--about four statute miles daily by the relay
method--we could not get to the Pole and back to Butter Point early in
January, so we held a serious council as to the future of our journey
towards the Magnetic Pole, and I suggested that the most likely means
to get there and back in the time specified by Lieutenant Shackleton
would be to travel on half-rations, depoting the remainder of our
provision at an early opportunity.

[Illustration: Loaded Sledge showing the Distance Recorder or
Sledge-meter]

After some discussion, Mawson and Mackay agreed to try this expedient,
and we decided to think over the matter for a few days and then make
our depot-.

In pursuing our north-westerly course we presently passed a magnificent
bay, which trended westwards some five or six miles away from the
course we were steering. On either side of this bay were majestic
ranges of rocky mountains, parted from one another at the head of the
bay by an immense glacier with steep ice falls.

On either side of this glacier were high terraces of rock reaching back
for several miles from a modern valley edge to the foot of still higher
ranges. It was obvious that these terraces marked the position of the
floor of the old valley at a time when the glacier ice was several
thousand feet higher and some ten miles wider than it was when we saw
it.

We longed to explore these inland rocks, but time was too precious.
Later on we discovered that the point opposite which we had arrived was
really Granite Harbour, and that its position was not correctly shewn
on the chart.

By the night of October 29 we were all thoroughly done up after
completing our four miles of relay work, and we discussed the important
question whether it was possible to eke out our food supplies with
seal-meat so as to avoid putting ourselves on half-rations, and we all
agreed that this should be done. The chief problem in connection with
the seal-meat was how to cook it without the aid of paraffin oil, for
we could not afford paraffin for that purpose.

On the next day we tried the experiment of strengthening the brew of
the tea by using the old tea-leaves of a previous meal mixed with the
new ones--an idea of Mackay's which Mawson and I did not appreciate at
first, though later on we were glad enough to adopt it.

By this time the weather had become warmer, and consequently the saline
snow on the sea-ice was sticky, and gripped the runners of the sledges
like glue. Only by the greatest exertion could we drag the sledges
along even at a snail's pace.

But although we were thoroughly exhausted when we camped on the evening
of the 30th, our evening meal revived us so much that we walked over to
a small island about three-quarters of a mile distant, which turned out
to be a truly wonderful place for a geologist and a perfect paradise
for the mineralogist.

On this island, which we afterwards called Depot Island, Mawson
discovered a translucent brown mineral, which was proved to be titanium
mineral.




CHAPTER XXXVI

ACROSS THE ICE BARRIER


How to reach the Pole was still our engrossing subject of discussion,
and on November 1 we decided that our only hope of reaching it, was
by travelling on half-rations from the point we had reached to the
point on the coast at the Drygalski Glacier, where we might hope to be
able to turn inland with reasonable prospect of success. Mawson was
convinced that we must keep six weeks of full rations for our inland
journey, and this meant that we must march on half-rations for about
100 miles.

While I was busy in calculating times and distances for the remainder
of our journey, Mawson and Mackay conducted experiments upon the
cooking of seal-meat with blubber. At winter quarters Mackay had
experimented with blubber as a fuel, but his efforts had not been taken
seriously, and, to our sorrow, his blubber lamp had been left behind.

Eventually, however, as a result of Mackay and Mawson's experiments, we
secured an effective cooking stove, which was made out of one of our
large empty biscuit tins, and a broth from seal-meat was made upon this
stove. The broth was apparently very nutritious, but in my case it was
also indigestible.

While Mawson was still engaged on cooking experiments, Mackay and I
went to the highest point of the island, and chose a spot for a cairn
to mark our depot and Mackay began to build the cairn.

It had, of course, become clear to us, from what we had already seen of
the cracking sea-ice, combined with our slow progress, that our retreat
back to camp from the direction of the Magnetic Pole would probably be
cut off altogether through the breaking up of the sea-ice.

Under these circumstances we resolved to take the risk of the _Nimrod_
returning safely to Cape Royds, where she would be instructed to search
for us along the western coast; and also the risk of her not being able
to find our depot and ourselves.

We knew that there was some danger in this course, but we also felt
that we had got on so far with the work entrusted to us by our
commander that we could not honourably turn back.

Under these circumstances we each wrote farewell letters to those who
were nearest and dearest, and at 4.30 A.M. on the following morning we
posted them in one of our empty dried-milk tins, which had an air-tight
lid, and, having walked up to the cairn, I lashed our post-office to
the flagstaff by means of cord and copper wire.

There we also left several bags of geological specimens, and with
lighter loads were prepared to go onwards towards the Pole.

It was later than usual when we left our depot, and as the sun's heat
was already thawing the surface of the snow our progress was painfully
slow. So terribly hard, indeed, was it to get along at all, that, after
going two miles, we camped and resolved to go on again at midnight,
when we hoped to avoid the sticky surface.

This experiment was fairly successful, and by November 5 we were
opposite to a most interesting panorama some twenty miles north of
Granite Harbour.

During that same day we had a very heavy surface to hamper and tire
us, but as an offset to these troubles we had that night, for the
first time, the use of a new frying-pan, ingeniously constructed by
Mawson out of one of our empty paraffin tins. Indeed, Mawson's cooking
experiments continued to be highly successful and entirely satisfactory
to the party.

At this time we encountered a good deal of brash ice, and noticed that
this type of ice surface was most common in the vicinity of icebergs.
The brash ice is, I think, formed by the icebergs surging to and fro in
heavy weather and crunching up the sea-ice near to them. The sea-ice,
of course, refreezes, producing a surface covered with jagged edges and
points.

But although brash ice was too plentiful biscuits were too scarce, and
we were already reduced to one Plasmon biscuit each for breakfast and
one for evening meals, and we had become exceedingly careful over the
crumbs. At first, on this expedition, when biscuits were more plentiful
we had munched them boldly, regardless of the loss of crumbs. Not so at
this time, when crumbs were collected most carefully by the man to whom
they belonged.

Uneventful days of sledging followed--days on which we were tired at
night and hungry nearly always; but on the 9th we were cheered by a
fine, though distant, view of the Nordenskjold Ice Barrier to the north
of us, and we were all extremely anxious to find out what sort of
surface for sledging this great glacier was going to offer us.

According to the Admiralty chart, prepared from observations by the
_Discovery_ expedition, this glacier was twenty-four to thirty miles
wide, and projected over twenty miles from the rocky shore into the
sea. We hoped that we should be able to cross it without following a
circuitous route along its seaward margins.

Two days later we reached the Nordenskjold Ice Barrier, and as Mawson
wished to take some observations, Mackay and I decided to explore the
glacier for the purpose of selecting a suitable track (if we could find
it) for our sledges.

On our return we were able to tell Mawson the good news that the
barrier was quite practicable for sledging; while he informed us that,
as the result of his observations, the Magnetic Pole was probably
about forty miles further inland than the theoretical mean position
calculated for it from the magnetic observations of the _Discovery_
expedition seven years before.

Early on the morning of the 12th we packed up and started to cross the
barrier, and on the second day we had not sledged for more than a
thousand yards when Mawson suddenly exclaimed that he could see the end
of the barrier, where it ended in a white cliff some 600 yards ahead.

We halted the sledge, and while Mawson took some theodolite angles
Mackay and I tried to find a way down the cliff, but failed to find it.
Once more we reconnoitred, and this time Mawson and I found some steep
slopes formed by drift snow, which were just practicable for a light
sledge lowered by an alpine rope.

We chose what seemed to be the best of these slopes and Mackay, having
tied the rope round his body and having taken his ice-axe, went down
the slope cautiously, Mawson and I holding on to the rope meanwhile.

The snow gave a good foothold, and he was soon at the bottom without
needing support from the rope. Then, when he had returned to the
top, we all set to work unpacking the sledges, and after loading one
sledge lightly we lowered it little by little down the slope, one of
us guiding the sledge while the other two slackened out the alpine
rope above. The man who went to the bottom unloaded the sledge on
the sea-ice, and then climbed back again, while the others hauled up
the empty sledge. This manœuvre was repeated again and again until
everything was safe, and we very glad to have crossed the ice barrier
so quickly. There can be little doubt, I think, that this Nordenskjold
Ice Barrier is afloat.

On the following day we were naturally anxious to be sure of our exact
position on the chart, in view of the fact that we had come to the end
of the barrier some eighteen miles quicker than the chart had led us to
anticipate. Accordingly, Mawson worked up his meridian altitude, while
I plotted out the angular distances he had found respectively for
Mount Erebus, Mount Lister and Mount Melbourne.

As the result of the application of our calculations to the chart it
became evident that we were opposite to what on Captain Scott's chart
was termed Charcot Bay, and consequently were nearly twenty miles
nearer north than we had thought ourselves to be. This was splendid
news, and cheered us up very much.

We were still travelling by night and sleeping during the afternoon,
and when we got out of our sleeping-bags at 8 P.M. on the night of the
15th there was a beautifully perfect "Noah's Ark" in the sky. We also
saw fleecy sheets of frost-smoke arising from over the open water on
Ross Sea, and forming dense cumulus clouds. This warned us that open
water was not far away, and impressed us with the necessity of pushing
on if we hoped to reach our projected point of departure on the coast
for the Magnetic Pole before the sea-ice entirely broke up.

Difficult surfaces continued to beset us, and our progress was
consequently exceedingly slow.

By the 24th we were suffering both from exhaustion and want of sleep,
and I rued the day when we chose the three-man bag in preference to the
one-man bag.

A three-man sleeping-bag, where you are wedged in more or less tightly
against your mates, where all snore and shin one another, and where
each man feels on waking that he is more shinned against than shinning,
is not conducive to real rest.




CHAPTER XXXVII

THE DRYGALSKI GLACIER


On November 26 Mawson and I ascended a rocky promontory, while Mackay
was securing some seal-meat, and from the top we had a splendid view
across the level surface of sea-ice far below us.

But although what we saw was magnificent, it was also discomforting,
for at a few miles from the shore an enormous iceberg, frozen into the
floe, lay right across the path which we had meant to travel on the
next day.

To the north-west of us was Geikie Inlet, and beyond that, stretching
as far as the eye could follow, was the great Drygalski Glacier.
Not a little concerned were we to observe with our field-glasses
that the surface of this glacier was wholly different to that of the
Nordenskjold Ice Barrier.

Clearly the surface of the Drygalski Glacier was formed of jagged
surfaces of ice very heavily crevassed, but we could see that at
the extreme eastern extension, some thirty miles from where we were
standing, the surface appeared to be fairly smooth.

It was also obvious to us, from what we had seen looking out to sea to
the east of our camp, that there were large bodies of open water at no
great distance from us trending shorewards in the form of long lanes.
The lanes of water were only partly frozen over, and some of these were
interposed between us and the Drygalski Glacier.

Not a moment was to be lost if we were to reach the glacier before the
sea-ice broke up, for one strong blizzard would have converted the
whole of the sea-ice between us and the glacier into a mass of drifting
pack.

The thing, indeed, for us to do was to push on with all our might, and
still with slushy surfaces to hinder us we pulled and tramped until--on
the 28th--we came to a point where for some time it seemed as if our
progress further north was completely blocked. Eventually, however, we
found a place where the ice might just bear our sledges, and, having
strengthened it by laying down slabs of sea-ice and shovelfuls of snow,
we rushed our sledges over safely. Extremely thankful were we to get
them over to the other side, for the ice was so thin that it bent under
our weight, and once Mackay broke through and very nearly got a ducking.

Next we had to encounter some very high sastrugi of hard tough snow,
and as these were nearly at right-angles to our course, the work of
dragging our sledges over them was very distressing. And after the
sastrugi we met with an ice-surface which kept continually cracking as
we passed over it, with a noise like that of a whip being cracked.

We were unable by this time to talk about anything but cereal foods,
such as cakes of various kinds and fruits, for we were very short of
biscuits and were consequently seized with food obsessions.

The sun, however, which had during the afternoons considerable heating
power, and in one way was hindering us by making the surfaces so
slushy, helped us in another way. For when I put some snow into our
aluminium cooking-pot and exposed it for several hours--while we were
camping--to the direct rays of the suns, I was glad to find that half
the snow was thawed down, a result that, of course, saved us both
paraffin and blubber.

[Illustration: The Northern Party on the Plateau, New Year's Day, 1909.
(_See page 211_)]

On the 30th the ice ridges fronting us became higher and steeper, and
strain we ever so mightily we could scarcely get the sledges to move up
the steep ice slopes, and the sledges also skidded a good deal as we
dragged them obliquely upwards.

The glacier was now spread before us as a great billowy sea of pale
green ice, with here and there high embankments of marble-like _névé_
resembling railway embankments. Unfortunately for our progress, the
trend of the latter was nearly at right-angles to our course, and
as we advanced the undulations became more and more pronounced, the
embankments higher and steeper.

These embankments were bounded by cliffs from forty to fifty feet in
height, with overhanging cornices of tough snow. The cliffs faced
northwards, and such serious obstacles were the deep chasms which they
produced to our advance that we had often to go a long way round in
order to head them off.

December began with a very laborious day, and after battling on for
several hours we had only advanced a little over half a mile. So
we decided to camp, for Mackay and me to try to find a way for the
sledge out of the maze of chasms that beset us, and for Mawson to take
magnetic observations.

During that afternoon we discussed our situation at some length. Most
probably the Drygalski Glacier was twenty miles wide, and if we were
to cross it along the course we were travelling at the rate of a mile
a day it would take us twenty days to get over, even if we took no
account of the unforeseen delays which our experience had already
taught us were sure to occur. From what Mackay and I had seen ahead
of us, our difficulties were bound, for a considerable distance, to
increase rather than grow less.

Under these circumstances we were reluctantly forced to the conclusion
that our only hope of ultimate success lay in retreat, and so we
resolved to drag the sledges back off the glacier on to the sea-ice by
the way along which we had come.




CHAPTER XXXVIII

CREVASSES


Our retreat began early on the morning of December 2, and after a
week's struggle on the glacier Mackay, just before camping-time on
the 9th, sighted open water on the northern edge of the Drygalski Ice
Barrier, from three to four miles away. This convinced us that we could
not hope for sea-ice over which to sledge westwards to that part of the
shore where we proposed to make our final depot, before attempting the
ascent of the great inland plateau in order to reach the Magnetic Pole.

On the 10th, however, at the end of the day's sledging we rejoiced to
find ourselves off the true glacier type of surface, and on to one
of the undulating barrier type. This improvement enabled us to steer
westwards, and on the following day we had a fine view of "Terra Nova"
Bay, and as far as could be judged the edge of the Drygalski Ice
Barrier on the north was scarcely a mile distant.

So surprised were we at the general appearance of the outline of the
ice, which did not seem to agree with the shape of this region as shown
on the Admiralty chart, that we halted a little earlier than usual to
reconnoitre. Mackay started off with the field-glasses to a conspicuous
ice-mound about half a mile to the north-west, Mawson began to change
his plates, while I went out with my sketch-book to get an outline
panoramic view of the grand coast ranges in sight.

So few had been the crevasses of late that I failed to take my ice-axe
with me and I had scarcely gone half a dozen yards from the tent when
the lid of a crevasse collapsed under me, and let me down nearly up to
my shoulders.

I only saved myself from going right down by throwing out my arms and
staying myself on the snow-lid on either side. The lid was so rotten
that I did not dare to move for fear that I might be thrown into the
abyss, but fortunately Maws on was near, and on my calling to him he
brought an ice-axe and chipped a hole in the firm ice on the edge of
the crevasse nearest to me. Then he inserted the chisel edge of the
ice-axe in the hole and, holding on to the pick-point, swung the handle
towards me. Grasping this, I was able to climb out on to the solid ice.

On the following day we sledged on until we were close to the ice-mound
already mentioned, and decided that as this mound commanded such a
general view of the surrounding country, it must also be a conspicuous
object to any one approaching the Drygalski Glacier by sea from the
north. And so we decided that as we could find no trace of the "low,
sloping shore"--as it was called on the Admiralty chart--we would make
our depot at this spot.

We estimated that we still had 220 miles to travel from this depot
on the Drygalski Glacier to the Magnetic Pole, and therefore it was
necessary to make preparations for a journey there and back of at least
440 miles. We considered that with _détours_ the journey might possibly
amount to 500 miles.

Our first business, therefore, was to lay in a stock of provisions
sufficient to last us for our journey, and after Mackay had killed some
seals and Emperor penguins we started cooking our meat for the trip.
Our calculation was that the total weight--when we depoted one sledge
with spare equipment and all our geological specimens--would be 670
lb. But we were very doubtful whether we, in our stale and weakened
condition, would be able to pull such a load.

We unpacked and examined both sledges, and found that of the two, the
runners of the Duff sledge were the less damaged.

On the 14th we were still busy preparing for the great trek inland.
Mackay was cooking meat, Mawson was employed in transferring the
scientific instrument boxes and other things from the Christmas Tree
sledge to the Duff sledge, while I was engaged on fixing up depot
flags, writing letters to the commander of the _Nimrod_, Lieutenant
Shackleton, and my family, and fixing up a milk-tin to serve as a post
office on to the depot flag-pole.

When we were fully prepared the Christmas Tree sledge was dragged to
the top of the ice-mound, where we cut trenches with our ice-axes in
which to embed the runners of the sledge; then we fixed the runners
into these grooves, piled the chipped ice on top, and then lashed the
flag-pole about six feet high with the black flag displayed on the top
of it very carefully to the sledge. We all felt quite sorry to part
with the Christmas Tree sledge, which by this time seemed to us like a
bit of home.

Anxious as we were to start for our dash towards the Pole, we were
prevented by a furious blizzard from getting on our way until the 16th.
Then we were delighted to find that, in consequence of our three days'
rest we were able to pull our sledge with comparative ease.

Soon afterwards we reached another open tide-crack, and had to spend
some time in going round it, and on the far side of this crack we
encountered a large pressure ridge forming a high and steep slope
which barred our advance. Its height was about eighty feet, but if we
were to go on there was nothing to do but drag our sledge up the slope,
a most exhausting work which was made more difficult still by the fact
that this ice-slope was traversed by numerous crevasses.

At last we got up the slope, only to see in the dim light that a
succession of similar slopes were ahead of us, becoming continually
higher and steeper. The ice, too, became a perfect network of
crevasses, some of which were partly open, but most of them covered
with snow lids.

Suddenly, when crossing one of these lids, and just as he was about
to reach firm ice on the other side, we heard a slight crash, and
Mawson instantly disappeared. Fortunately the toggle at the end of his
sledge-rope held, and he was left swinging in the empty space between
the walls of the crevasse, being suspended by his harness attached to
the sledge-rope.

Mackay and I hung on to the rope in case it should part at the toggle,
but when Mawson called out for the alpine rope to be passed down to him
I left Mackay and hurried back to the sledge to get it. Just, however,
as I was trying to disengage a coil of rope, Mawson called out that he
felt he was going, so I returned to help Mackay in his effort to keep
a strain on Mawson's harness rope. Then Mawson said that he was all
right, and the rope having suddenly cut back through the lid of the
crevasse was probably the reason why he had felt that he was falling.

I now held on to the harness rope while Mackay got the alpine rope, and
made a bow-line at the end in which Mawson could put his foot. In the
meantime Mawson, who was down about eight feet below the level of the
snowy lid, secured some ice crystals from the side of the crevasse and
threw them up for subsequent examination.

The alpine rope having been lowered, we eventually hoisted him up
little by little to the under surface of the snow-lid, but as his
harness rope had cut back a narrow groove in this snow-lid several feet
from where the snow gave way under him, he found his head and shoulders
pressing against the under side of the snow-lid and had difficulty in
breaking through this in order to get out his head.

At last the top of his head appeared, and presently he got safely
out on the near side of the crevasse, a deliverance for which we
were all supremely thankful. After this too-exciting episode we were
extra-cautious in crossing crevasses, but the ice was simply seamed
with them.

Twice when our sledge was being dragged up ice-pressure ridges it
rolled over sideways with one runner in a crevasse, and once the whole
sledge all but disappeared into a crevasse, the snow-lid of which
partly collapsed under its weight. Had it gone down completely we
should certainly have been dragged down with it, as it weighed nearly
one-third of a ton.

It was clear to us that these numerous crevasses which we had reached
were caused not by the Drygalski but by the Nansen Glacier.

On the 20th we held a council of war, the question being whether
we should continue in the direction of the Mount Nansen Glacier,
or whether we should retreat and try to find some other way to the
plateau. Mackay was in favour of hauling ahead over the glacier, while
Mawson and I favoured retreat, and at last we decided to retreat once
more.




CHAPTER XXXIX

UPWARDS AND ONWARDS


So far as the possibility of reaching the Magnetic Pole was concerned,
our fortunes seemed to have reached a low ebb. It was already December
20, and we knew that we had to be back at our depot on the Drygalski
Glacier not later than February 1 or 2, if there was to be a reasonable
chance of our being picked up by the Nimrod. That meant that we had to
travel at least 480 to 500 miles before we could hope to get to the
Magnetic Pole and back to our depot, and there remained only six weeks
to accomplish this journey.

At the same time we should have to pioneer a road up to the high
plateau, and now that everything was buried under soft snow it was
clear that sledging would be slower and more difficult than ever. Under
the circumstances it was, perhaps, not to be wondered at that we were
not hopeful of our chance of success.

However, there was nothing to do but to reconnoitre in a south-westerly
direction to see what way was most practicable for us, and after
paddling, unwillingly, in many shallow pools of water and crossing much
pressure-ice and several crevasses, we at last saw that we should have
to drag our sledge up a steep slope encumbered with soft deep thawing
snow.

We also collected several specimens, including a solitary coral, and
while we were collecting them we could hear the roar of many mountain
torrents descending the steep granite slopes of the great mountain mass.

Occasionally, too, we heard the boom and crash of an avalanche
descending from the high mountain top, and such sounds were strange to
our ears, accustomed so long to the almost uninterrupted solitude and
silence of the Antarctic.

[Illustration: The Northern Party at the South Magnetic Pole From left:
Dr. Mackay, Professor David, Douglas Mawson (_See page 215_)]

On the 22nd we were suddenly struck by a furious blizzard which
hindered us until Christmas Eve, but by ten o'clock on that evening we
had succeeded in struggling on until we were above the uncomfortable
zone of thaw, and everything around us was once more crisp and dry
though cold. We had reached over 1200 ft. above sea level, and our
spirits mounted with the altitude.

On Christmas Day we were delayed at first by a blizzard, but in spite
of this we managed to travel about four miles and to camp at night over
2000 ft. above sea-level. Having no other kind of Christmas gift to
offer, Mawson and I presented Mackay with some sennegrass for his pipe,
his tobacco having been exhausted long before.

The following day saw us again crossing crevasses, and as some of them
were from 20 to 30 ft. wide, it was fortunate that the snow lids were
strong enough to carry safely both the sledge and ourselves. Mackay
suggested that, for greater security, we should fasten the alpine
rope around Mawson, who was in the lead, and secure the other end of
it to the sledge. The rope was left just slack enough to admit of the
strain of hauling being taken by the harness rope, and so Mawson had
two strings to his bow in case of being suddenly precipitated into a
crevasse. It was a good system, and we always adopted it afterwards in
crossing heavily crevassed ice.

On the next day we made a small depot of our ski boots, all our
geological specimens, and about one day's food supply together with a
small quantity of oil, and this we called the Larsen Depot as it was
close to one of the southern spurs of Mount Larsen.

Our eyes were now straining, as we advanced with the sledge, to see
whether any formidable mountains still barred our path to the plateau,
and our thankfulness was unbounded when at last we realised that
apparently we were going to have a fairly easy ascent of hard névé
and snow on to the plateau. On that day we advanced a little over
ten miles, and on December 30 we reached an altitude of nearly 5000
ft., our breath freezing into lumps of ice and cementing our Burberry
helmets to our beards and moustaches as in winter time.

New Year's Eve brought with it some disappointment from Mawson's
announcement--after he had taken a fresh set of magnetic
observations--that he made out the Magnetic Pole to be further inland
than had been originally estimated. We were still dragging the sledge
on an up grade and on a softer surface than before, and as we were also
obliged to put ourselves on somewhat shorter rations, in order to form
an emergency food-supply in case our journey proved longer than we
anticipated, we were very much exhausted by night.

On that same evening a skua gull came to visit us, I am afraid not with
any intention of giving us New Year's greetings, but because he mistook
us for seals crawling inland to die, as is not infrequently the habit
of these animals.

New Year's Day gave us beautifully calm weather, and to celebrate the
beginning of 1909 Mawson provided us with a grand hoosh and a rich pot
of cocoa, which we enjoyed thoroughly after an exhausting march.

Hunger, indeed, was beginning to beset us, and we should also have
liked more to drink if we could have afforded it. In fact instead of
talking about what we would like to eat, we began to talk about what we
would drink if we had the chance. Mackay would have liked to drink a
gallon of buttermilk straight off, Mawson wanted a big basin of cream,
while my choice was several pots of the best coffee with plenty of hot
milk.

We were still climbing on January 3, but on the next day we were
pleased to find that the up grade was becoming less steep. We had
reached an altitude of over 6000 ft. and found breathing in the cold
air distinctly trying. It was not that definite mountain sickness
had attacked us, but that we felt weaker than usual as the result,
doubtless, of the height combined with the cold.

Still, we were progressing at the rate of about ten miles a day, and
that was enough to make us hopeful in spite of everything.

On the 6th I left off my crampons and put on a new pair of finnesko,
with the result that I fell heavily over one of the sastrugi, and
slightly straining some muscles on the inner side of my left leg, just
below the knee, I suffered a considerable amount of pain for the rest
of the journey.

Mountain lassitude still continued to attack us and our hands were
often frost-bitten when packing up the sledge. By the 9th we were
completely out of sight of any mountain ranges, and were toiling up and
down amongst the huge billows of a snow sea.




CHAPTER XL

THE MAGNETIC POLE


Each successive evening saw us some ten miles nearer to the
Magnetic Pole, but by the 11th we had various inconveniences (to
name them mildly) to add to our difficulties. Mawson had a touch of
snow-blindness in his right eye, and both he and Mackay suffered much
through the skin of their lips peeling off, leaving the raw flesh
exposed. Mawson, particularly, experienced great difficulty every
morning in getting his mouth to open, as his lips were firmly glued
together.

The compass by this time was very sluggish, in fact the theodolite
compass would scarcely work at all. This pleased us all a good deal,
and at first we all wished more power to it; and then, recognising our
mistake, we amended the sentiment and cordially wished less power to it.

On the evening of the 12th, Mawson, after carefully analysing the
results set forth in the advance copy of the _Discovery_ Expedition
Magnetic Report, decided that, although the matter was not expressly so
stated, the Magnetic Pole instead of moving easterly, as it had done
in the interval between Sabine's observation in 1841 and the time of
the _Discovery_ expedition in 1902, was likely now to be travelling
somewhat to the north-west.

The results of dip readings taken earlier in the journey also agreed
with this decision. It would, therefore, be necessary to travel farther
in that direction than we had expected, if we were to reach our goal.
Most extremely disquieting news was this for us, as we had come almost
to the end of our provisions, after making allowance for enough to take
us back on short rations to the coast. Still, in spite of anxiety, our
overwhelming weariness enabled us to get some sleep.

At breakfast on the following morning we fully discussed our future
movements, and Mawson, having carefully reviewed his observations as
to the position of the Magnetic Pole, decided that we must travel four
more days if we were to reach it, and we resolved to go on sledging for
that time.

On that day we advanced thirteen miles, and on the next the snow
surface over which we were sledging sparkled with large reconstructed
ice crystals, about half an inch in width and one sixteenth of an inch
in thickness, which it seemed a sacrilege to break.

On the 15th about twenty minutes before true noon Mawson took magnetic
observations with the dip circle and found the angle only fifteen
minutes off the vertical, the dip being 89° 45'. Naturally we were very
much rejoiced to find that we were close to the Magnetic Pole. The
observations made by Bernacchi, during the two years of the _Discovery_
expedition sojourn at winter quarters on Ross Island, showed that the
extent of daily swing of the magnet was sometimes considerable. The
compass at a distance from the Pole pointing in a slightly varying
direction at different times of the day, indicates that the polar
centre executes a daily round of wanderings about its mean position.

Mawson considered that we were already practically at the Magnetic
Pole; and that if we waited for twenty-four hours taking constant
observations at the spot we had reached, the Pole would, probably,
during that time, come vertically beneath us. We decided, however, to
go on to the spot where Mawson concluded the approximate mean position
of the Magnetic Pole would lie. That evening the dip was 89° 48'.

From the rapid rate at which the dip had been increasing, as well
as from a comparison of Bernacchi's magnetic observations, Mawson
estimated that we were about 13 miles distant from the probable
mean position of the South Magnetic Pole. To locate, he said, the
mean position accurately it was possible that a month of continuous
observation would be necessary, but that the position he indicated was
as close as we could locate it.

Consequently we decided to make a forced march of 13 miles on the
following day to the approximate mean position of the Pole.

On Saturday, January 16, we were up at 6 A.M. and soon started, pulling
our sledge for two miles. We then depoted a lot of our heavy gear and
equipment, and having gone on for another two miles we fixed up the
legs of the dip circle, the compass moving in a horizontal plane being
useless for keeping us on our course.

Two miles farther on we fixed up the legs of the theodolite, and after
another two miles we put up our tent and had a light lunch.

Afterwards we walked five miles in the direction of the Magnetic Pole
so as to place us in the mean position calculated for it by Mawson, 72°
25′ South latitude, 155° 16′ East longitude. Mawson placed his camera
so as to focus the whole group, and in the meantime Mackay and I fixed
up the flag-pole.

Then at 3.30 P.M. we bared our heads and hoisted the Union Jack with
the words uttered by myself, in conformity with Lieutenant Shackleton's
instructions: "I hereby take possession of this area now containing the
Magnetic Pole for the British Empire."

At the same time I fired the trigger of the camera by pulling the
string which Mawson had arranged, and finally we gave three cheers for
His Majesty the King.

The temperature at the moment we hoisted the flag was exactly 0° Fahr.

It was an intense satisfaction and relief to all of us to feel that at
last, after so many days of toil and danger, we had been able to carry
out our leader's instructions, and to fulfil the wish of Sir James
Clarke Ross that the South Magnetic Pole should be actually reached, as
he had already in 1831 reached the North Magnetic Pole.

At the same time we were too utterly weary to be capable of any great
amount of exultation. I am sure the feeling that was uppermost in
all of us was one of devout and heartfelt thankfulness to the kind
Providence which had so far guided our footsteps in safety to that goal.

With a fervent "Thank God" we all did a right-about turn, and marched
as quickly as tired limbs would allow us back towards our little green
tent in the wilderness of snow. Reaching our depot a little before 10
P.M. that night, we turned into the sleeping-bag faint and weary, but
happy that a haunting load of possible failure was at last removed from
our minds.




CHAPTER XLI

RETURNING


I called the camp later than usual on the following morning, and we
discussed our chances of catching the Nimrod if she searched for us
along the coast in the direction of our depot on the Drygalski Glacier.

At the Magnetic Pole we were fully 260 statute miles distant, as the
skua gull flies, from our depot, and as we had knocked off eleven of
these miles on the previous day we still had 249 miles to cover. If,
then we were to reach the Drygalski depot by February 1, we had only
fifteen days in which to do it, and we should have to average sixteen
and two-third miles a day in order to reach the coast in the time
specified.

This, of course, did not allow for any delay from blizzards, and we
knew from the direction of the sastrugi during our last few days' march
that the prevailing direction of the blizzards was likely to be exactly
in our teeth. The prospect, therefore, of reaching our depot in the
specified time did not appear to be bright.

[Illustration: Ready to start Home. (_See page 233_)]

On starting, however, on the 17th we had most glorious weather, and
the wind which had helped us towards the Pole turned round and helped
us away from it. In spite of our late start we sledged 16 miles, and
on the following day, although Mawson's left leg was paining him, we
covered practically the same distance.

The 19th saw us still keeping up the same rate of progress, but owing
to some miscalculation of mine we discovered that we had no tea for
this week, our sixth week out, unless we took it out of the tea-bag for
the seventh week. Accordingly we halved the tea in the seventh week
bag, and determined to collect our old tea-bags at each camp as we
passed it, and to boil these bags together with the small pittance of
fresh tea.

As we progressed coastwards we soon had quite an imposing collection
of muslin bags with old tea leaves, and with the thorough boiling they
got there was a strong flavour of muslin added to that of old tea. But
nevertheless we considered that this drink was nectar.

In view of the steady sixteen miles a day that we were doing Mawson
proposed on the 20th that we should return to nearly full rations,
a proposal which was hailed with delight, for we were becoming very
exhausted through insufficient food.

Up to that date we had been able still to follow our old sledge tracks,
which was a great blessing when the magnetic needle was of so little
use to us. But on the following days we, lost these tracks, and had a
great deal of pie-crust snow to cross, which made our work terribly
fatiguing.

However, we managed to keep up our sixteen miles per day, and on
January 24 we were cheered by sighting Mount Baxter. Towards evening
we discussed whether we were following approximately our old out-going
tracks. Mackay thought we were nearer to the mountain than before, I
thought we were farther to the south-west, Mawson, who was leading,
said that we were pretty well on our old course. Just then I discovered
that we were actually on our old tracks which showed up plainly for a
short distance, and which were striking evidence of Mawson's skill as a
navigator.

On the next day we encountered a mild blizzard, but we also managed to
sight Mount Nansen just before we camped, and when we resumed our march
we reached a surface of hard marble-like névé, which descended by short
steep slopes.

At first we did not realise that we were about to descend what we
had called the Ice Falls on the outward journey, and as the sledge
occasionally took charge and rushed down this marble staircase Mawson
and I came some heavy croppers.

On the 27th we were delighted at last to sight Mount Larsen, and to
have reached a point only forty miles from our Larsen Depot.

The wind was blowing at about 25 miles an hour, and occasionally, in an
extra strong puff, the sledge took charge. On one of these occasions
it suddenly charged into me from behind, knocked my legs from under
me, and nearly juggernauted me. But I was quickly rescued from this
undignified position by Mawson and Mackay.

At lunch, with a faint hope of softening the heart of Mackay--who was
messman for the week--I mildly informed him that it was my birthday.
He took the hint and both at lunch and dinner we all fared, what we
considered, sumptuously.

We advanced twenty miles towards the coast on that day, but it had
been a most fatiguing journey, and when we started again we decided
that pulling the sledge was less exhausting than the sailing had proved
to be.

Hour by hour we steadily pulled on, Mounts Nansen and Larsen growing
larger and clearer, and we began to hope that we might be able to reach
our depot that night. But later on Mawson's sprained leg pained him
so much that we had almost decided to camp, when Mackay's sharp eyes
sighted our little blue flag tied to the ice-axe at our depot. It was,
however, past midnight before we turned into our sleeping-bags.

On the next morning--January 30--we were up at 9 A.M., and after
breakfast we collected the material at our depot, such as ski boots,
oil, and geological specimens and loaded these on to our sledge.

During this day we discussed whether it would be wiser to descend
by the old track up which we had come, or make down the main Larsen
Glacier to the point where it joined the Drygalski Glacier. Mackay
favoured the former route, while Mawson and I were in favour of the
latter, and, as subsequent events proved, Mackay was right and we were
wrong.

We held on down the main glacier, and the descent was soon so steep
that only with difficulty could we prevent the sledge from charging
down the slope.

On January 31 we took half the load off the sledge, and started with
the remainder to try and work a passage of the ice-pressure ridges of
the combined Drygalski and Larsen Glaciers on the smoother sea-ice, and
eventually on to the Drygalski Ice Barrier.

While Mawson and Mackay pulled, I steadied the sledge on the lower side
in rounding the steep sidelings, but in spite of my efforts to keep
it on even keel the sledge frequently capsized. At last we arrived at
the foot of an immense ice-pressure ridge, a romantic-looking spot
with a huge cliff of massive granite rising up on our left to heights
of about 2000 ft., although I admit that at the time we did not exactly
appreciate its romantic beauty.

Mackay reconnoitred, and found that the large pressure ridge which
seemed to bar progress towards our depot must be crossed. So taking
our ice-axes we smoothed a passage across part of the ridge--a tough
job--and then unloaded the sledge and passed each one of our packages
over by hand. Finally we dragged the sledge up, and hoisted it over and
lowered it down safely on the other side.

Little by little the surface improved after this, until our progress
was once more barred, but on this occasion by what may be termed an ice
donga, apparently an old channel formed by a river of thaw-water.

We encountered three of them during that afternoon from a few feet to
50 or 100 ft. broad, and often we had to take our sledge a long way
round to cross them.

Our difficulties were increased by the innumerable crevasses and steep
ice ridges, and once Mackay and I were in the same crevasse at the
same time, he up to his shoulders and I up to my waist. Fortunately,
however, we were able to save ourselves from falling right through the
lid by throwing out our arms.

While we sledged on through the night, snow began to fall, and when we
camped at 7 A.M. on February 1 we were all most thoroughly weary.




CHAPTER XLII

OBSTACLES IN OUR COURSE


It continued to snow heavily during the day. But although Mawson's leg
pained him a great deal we had to push on, for we were still sixteen
miles, we thought, from our depot on the Drygalski Glacier, and we
had only two days' food left. So we started to sledge in the thick,
driving snow, but as the work under these conditions were excessively
exhausting, and we were also unable to keep our proper course while the
blizzard lasted, we camped at 8 P.M. and were soon sleeping the sleep
of worn and weary wanderers.

On the morning of February 2 we were rejoiced to find the sun shining,
and we resolved to make a desperate attempt to reach our depot on this
day, for we knew that the _Nimrod_ would be due--perhaps overdue--by
the night. On looking back we saw that our track of the day before was
about as straight as a corkscrew.

Once more we pulled out over the soft snow, but although a little
refreshed by our good sleep we found the work extremely trying and
toilsome.

We crossed an ice donga, and about four miles out reached the edge of
a second donga. Here we determined to leave everything but our sledge,
tent, sleeping-bag, cooking apparatus, oil and food, and make a forced
march to the Drygalski depot. Accordingly we camped and having fixed
up our depot, we marked the spot with a little blue flag tied on to an
ice-axe.

The sledge thus lightened was far easier to pull, and having crossed
the donga by a snow-bridge we pulled steadily onwards, Mawson
occasionally sweeping the horizon with our field-glasses in hopes of
sighting our depot.

Suddenly he exclaimed that he saw the depot flag distinctly on its ice
mound, about seven miles distant, but when Mackay and I looked through
the glasses neither of us could see any trace of the flag. Mawson
considered that both of us must be snow-blind, but when he looked again
he at once exclaimed that he could no longer see the flag. The horizon
seemed to be walloping up and down, just as though it was boiling,
evidently the result of a mirage.

Mawson, however, was so confident that he had seen the flag, well
round on the starboard bow of our sledge that we altered our course,
and after going a little over a mile, we were rejoiced to hear that he
could distinctly see the depot flag. Full of hope we kept on sledging
for several miles farther, but at midnight when the temperature had
fallen to zero I felt that one of my big toes was getting frost-bitten.
All day my socks had been wet through, and with the sudden fall of
temperature the water in the socks had turned to ice.

So we halted for me to change my socks and for all of us to have a
midnight meal, and much refreshed we started off again, thinking that
at last we should reach our depot, or at all events the small inlet a
little over a mile from it. But "the best laid schemes of mice and men
gang aft agley."

There was an ominous white streak ahead of us with a dark streak just
behind it, and soon we saw that this was due to a ravine in the snow
and ice surface interposing itself between ourselves and our depot, and
shortly afterwards we reached the near cliff of the ravine.

This ravine was 200 yds. broad, and from 30 to 40 ft. deep; and it
was bounded by a vertical cliff or very steeply inclined slope on the
north-west side, and by an overhanging cliff on the south-east side.
Inland the ravine extended as far as the eye could reach.

We determined to try to cross the ravine, at the bottom of which we
were excited to see a number of seals and Emperor penguins dotted over
the ice floor. At last by means of making fast the Alpine rope to
the bow of the sledge we reached the bottom, and there Mackay killed
two penguins to replenish our exhausted larder. Meanwhile Mawson was
looking out for a spot where we might swarm up, and as I was feeling
much exhausted, I asked him to take over the leadership of the
expedition.

I considered myself justified in taking this step as the work assigned
to us by our leader was accomplished, and we were within two or three
miles of our depot and had no reason to fear the danger of starvation.

On the other hand, as regards our ultimate personal safety, our
position was rather critical. In the first place, we were not even
certain that the _Nimrod_ had arriven in Ross Sea; in the second place,
assuming that she had, if was quite possible that she would miss
sighting our depot flags altogether.

In the event of the ship not appearing within a few days, it would have
been necessary to take immediate action with a view either to winter
at the Drygalski depot or to an attempt to sledge over the steeply
crevassed glacier for over 200 miles to Cape Royds.

Even at the moment, had some immediate strenuous action been necessary
from the _Nimrod_ suddenly appearing, I thought that it would be best
for Mawson, who was less physically exhausted than I was, to be in
charge.

He had, throughout the whole journey, shown excellent capacity for
leadership, and when I spoke to him he at first demurred, but finally
said he would act for a time.

At first we thought that there was one very difficult but apparently
possible means of ascent up the cliff face; our efforts, however, in
this direction were doomed to failure, and we were compelled to retrace
our steps up the ravine down which we had previously lowered the sledge.

This was a tremendous labour, for we could only force the sledge up a
few inches at a time; eventually, however, we found ourselves on the
level plain at the top of the ravine, but, of course, on the wrong side
as far as our depot was concerned. There we thought it safe to camp,
for we were within three miles of the open sea, and had the _Nimrod_
sighted our depot flag and stood in to the coast, we could easily have
hurried down to the entrance of the inlet and made signals to her.

At 7 A.M. we turned in after toiling for twenty-three hours, and at
about a quarter-past seven, as we learnt later, the _Nimrod_ must have
passed; but owing to a light wind with snow drift she was unable to
sight either our depot flag or tent.

Having had four hours' rest we packed our sledge and started along the
north bank of the snow gorge, the snow and ice at the bottom being
dotted with basking seals and moulting Emperor penguins.

At first, in our tired and weak state, we were much dispirited to find
no means of crossing the ravine, but eventually Mackay, who had gone
ahead, shouted that he had discovered a snow-bridge across it, and when
he had rejoined us we pulled the sledge to the head of the bridge.

There was a crevasse at both the near and far ends of the bridge, and
stepping over the crevasse at the near end we launched the sledge with
a run down to the centre of the bridge and then struggled up the steep
slope facing us, Mackay steadying the sledge from falling off the
narrow causeway, while all of us pulled for all we were worth.

In another minute or so we were safely across with our sledge, and
thankful to have surmounted the last obstacle between us and our depot.




CHAPTER XLIII

SAFE ABOARD


As we were all thoroughly exhausted and had reached a spot from which
we could get a good view of the ocean beyond Drygalski Barrier, we
camped at 10.30 P.M. on that evening (February 3) a little over a mile
away from our depot.

During that day we had two of the most satisfying meals we had eaten
for a very long time; a soupy mincemeat of penguin for lunch, and
plenty of seal for dinner.

And after the second meal Mawson and I turned into the sleeping-bag,
leaving Mackay to take the first of our four-hour watches on the
look-out for the _Nimrod_. During his watch he walked up to the depot
and dug out our biscuit tin, which had served us as a blubber lamp and
cooker, together with the cut-down paraffin tin which we had used as a
frying-pan, and carried them to the tent.

Then he cooked some penguin meat and regaled himself with dainty
morsels from the savoury dish, and when he called me at 4 A.M. I found
that he had thoughtfully put into the frying-pan about two pounds of
penguin's breast for me to toy with during my watch.

During the afternoon of the 4th we discussed our future plans, and
decided that we had better at once move the tent up to our old depot,
where it would be a conspicuous object from the sea, and where, too, we
could command a more extensive view of the ocean.

[Illustration: A view of the Hut in the Summer. Meteorological Station
can be seen on the extreme right. (_See page 60_)]

We also talked about what it would be best to do if the Nimrod did
not appear, and determined that we ought to tackle the journey to Hut
Point, keeping ourselves alive on the way, as best we might, with
seal-meat.

While, however, Mackay thought we ought to start in a few days, Mawson
and I, on the other hand, thought that we should wait where we were
until late in February. From whatever point of view we looked at it,
our lot was not a happy one.

Dispirited, indeed, by forebodings of much toil and trouble, we were
just preparing to set our weary limbs in motion to pack up and trek
up to the depot, when--Bang! went something, seemingly close to the
door of our tent. The sound thrilled us; in another instant the air
reverberated with a big boom, much louder than the first sound.

Mawson was the first to give tongue, roaring out, "A gun from the
ship!" and dived for the tent door. As the latter was narrow there was
for the moment some congestion of traffic. I dashed my head forwards,
only in time to receive a few kicks from the departing Mawson. Just as
I was recovering my equilibrium, Mackay made a wild charge, rode me
down, and trampled over my prostrate body.

When at last I got started, Mawson had got a lead of a hundred and
Mackay of about fifty yards. "Bring something to wave," Mawson shouted,
and rushing back to the tent I seized Mackay's ruck-sack.

And then as I ran forward again, what a sight met my gaze! Not a
quarter of a mile away was the dear old Nimrod, steaming straight
towards us up the inlet, and at the sight of the three of us hastening
frantically to meet the ship, hearty ringing cheers burst forth from
all on board.

It would be hard, indeed, for anyone who has never been situated as
we had been, to realise the sudden revulsion of our feelings, or to
understand how those cheers stirred every fibre within us. In a moment,
as dramatic as it was heavenly, we seemed to have passed from death
into life.

My first feelings were of intense joy and relief, then of fervent
gratitude to the kind Providence which had so mercifully led our
friends to our deliverance.

Suddenly, however, a shout from Mackay called me back to earth:
"Mawson's fallen into a deep crevasse--look out, it's just in front of
you," he called, and I saw him kneeling near the edge of a small oblong
hole in the névé.

"Are you all right, Mawson?" he asked, and from the depth came up the
welcome word, "Yes."

Mackay then told me that Mawson was about twenty feet down the
crevasse, and we decided to try to pull him up with the sledge harness
and hurried back to get it. Our combined strength, however, was not
enough to pull him up, and as there was a danger of the snow lid at
the surface falling in on Mawson unless it was strengthened with some
planking, we gave up our attempt, I remaining at the crevasse while
Mackay hurried off for help to the Nimrod.

"Mawson has fallen down a crevasse, and we got to the Magnetic Pole,"
Mackay called out, and almost in less time than it takes to write it
officers and sailors were swarming over the bows of the _Nimrod_ and
dropping on to the ice barrier.

I called to Mawson that help was at hand, and he replied that he was
quite comfortable, for although there was seawater at the bottom of
the crevasse, he was able to sustain himself a couple of feet above it
on the small ledge that had stopped his fall.

Meanwhile, the rescue party, headed by J. K. Davis, the first officer
of the _Nimrod_, had arrived, and when the crevasse had been bridged
with a piece of sawn timber, Davis, with the thoroughness which
characterised all his work, promptly had himself lowered down the
crevasse. And presently Mawson, with only his back slightly bruised
from this fall, and then Davis were safely on the top.

What a joyous grasping of hands and hearty all-round welcoming
followed, and foremost among those old friends who greeted us was
Captain Evans who had commanded the _Koonya_, and who was then
in command of the _Nimrod_, a fact which gave us the greatest
satisfaction. Quickly he assured me of the good health of my wife
and family, and while willing hands packed up our sledge and other
belongings, Captain Evans walked with us to the rope ladder hanging
over the bows of the _Nimrod_.

Quickly as all this had taken place, Mackay had already found time to
secure a pipe and some tobacco from one of our crew, and was pulling
away to his heart's content.

After our one hundred and twenty-two days of hard toil over the sea ice
of the coast, and the great snow desert of the Hinterland, the little
ship seemed to us as luxurious as an ocean liner. Pleasantly the buzz
of our friends' voices--giving us all the news--blended itself with the
gentle fizzing of steam from the _Nimrod's_ boiler, and surely since
the days of John Gilpin "were never folk so glad" as were we three.

Afternoon tea came first and then the joy of reading the home letters,
and finding good news in them. Later we three had a novel experience,
the first real wash for over four months, and after diligent scrubbing
bits of our real selves began to show through the covering of seal-oil
and soot.

Of course we over-ate ourselves at dinner, but all the same we were
ready to partake liberally of hot cocoa and biscuits before we turned
in at 10 P.M.

Under Providence we felt we owed our lives to the thorough search,
sound judgment and fine seamanship of Captain Evans, and the devotion
to duty of his officers and crew.

My last thought in the twilight that comes between wakefulness and
sleep is expressed in the words of our favourite record on the
gramophone, "So long Thy power hath blest me, sure it still will lead
me on."




CHAPTER XLIV

THE RETURN TO NEW ZEALAND


The _Nimrod_, with Professor David, Mawson and Mackay aboard, got back
to winter quarters on February 11 and landed Mawson. No news had been
heard of the Southern Party, and the depot party, commanded by Joyce,
was still out. On February 20 it was found that the depot party had
reached Hut Point, and had not seen Marshall, Adams, Wild or myself. My
instructions had provided that if we had not returned from our journey
toward the South Pole by February 25, a party was to be landed at Hut
Point with a team of dogs, and on March 1 a search-party was to go
south. Murray, who was in command of the expedition during my absence,
was in no way responsible for the failure of that party to be landed,
and obeyed faithfully my full instructions.

All arrangements being completed, most of the members of the expedition
went ashore at Cape Royds to get their property packed in readiness for
departure. The ship left Cape Royds on the 21st, and was lying under
Glacier Tongue when I arrived at Hut Point with Wild on February 28,
and after I had been landed with the relief party in order that Adams
and Marshall might be brought in, the ship went to Cape Royds so that
the remaining members of the shore-party and some specimens and stores
might be taken on board.

The _Nimrod_ anchored a short distance from the shore, and two boats
were launched. As everything had to be lowered by ropes over the cliff
into the boats, the work of embarkation took some time, but by 6 A.M.
on March 2 only the men and dogs remained to be taken on board.

A stiff breeze was blowing, and by the time the dogs had one by one
been lowered into the boats, the wind had freshened to blizzard force,
and the sea had begun to run dangerously. The waves had deeply undercut
the ice-cliff, leaving a projecting shelf.

One boat, in charge of Davis, succeeded in reaching the ship, but a
second boat, heavily laden with men and dogs, was less fortunate, and
before it had gone many yards from the shore an oar broke.

The _Nimrod_, owing to the severity of the storm was forced to slip her
moorings and steam from the bay, and an attempt to float a buoy to the
boat was not successful.

Consequently Harbord and his men were in great danger, for they
could not get out of the bay owing to the force of the sea, and the
projecting shelf of ice threatened disaster if they approached the
shore. Flying spray had encased the men in ice, and their hands were
numb and frozen.

At the end of an hour they managed to make fast to a line stretched
from an anchor a few yards from the cliff, the men who had remained on
shore pulling this line taut.

Their position was still dangerous, but eventually the men and dogs
were all safely hauled up the slippery ice-face before the boat sank.
Hot drinks were soon ready for them in the hut, and although the
temperature was low and nearly all the bedding had been sent on board,
they were thankful enough to have escaped with their lives.

On the following morning (March 3) the ship came back to Cape Royds,
and having got all the men and dogs aboard, went back to the Glacier
Tongue anchorage to wait for the relief party.

About ten o'clock that same night Mackintosh was on deck talking to
some other members of the expedition, when he suddenly became excited
and said, "I feel that Shackleton has arrived at Hut Point." He was
very anxious that the ship should proceed to the Point, but no one paid
much attention to him, and Dunlop advised him, if he was so sure about
it, to go aloft and look for a signal. Accordingly Mackintosh went
aloft, and immediately seeing our flare at Hut Point the ship left at
once, and by 2 A.M. on March 4 the entire expedition was safe on board.

If we were to try to complete our work there was no time to be lost,
for the season was far advanced and the condition of the ice was
already a matter of anxiety. But as I was very eager to undertake
exploration with the ship to the westward towards Adelie Land, with
the idea of mapping the coast-line in that direction, I gave orders to
steam north, and in a very short time we were under way.

First of all, I wished to round Cape Armitage and pick up some
geological specimens and gear that had been left at Pram Point, but
young ice was forming over the sea, and it was evident that we had
scarcely an hour to waste if we were not to spend a second winter in
the Antarctic.

Having brought the _Nimrod_ right alongside the pressure ice at Pram
Point, Mackintosh at once landed with a small party, and as soon as
they returned we steamed north again.

On passing our winter quarters at Cape Royds we all turned out to give
three cheers, and to take a last look at the place where, in spite of
discomforts and hardships, we had spent so many happy days. We watched
the little hut, which had been our home for a year that must always
live in our memories, fade away in the distance with feelings almost
of sadness, and there were few men aboard who did not cherish a hope
that some day they might again live strenuous days under the shadow of
mighty Erebus.

I left at the winter quarters on Cape Royds a supply of stores
sufficient to last fifteen men for one year, for the changes and
chances of life in the Antarctic are such that this supply might be
most valuable to some future expedition. The hut was locked up and the
key hung where it might easily be found, and we re-adjusted the lashing
of our home so that it might withstand the fury of many blizzards.
There our hut stands waiting to be used, and containing everything
necessary to sustain life.

I was anxious to pick up some geological specimens left on Depot
Island, but as the wind had freshened to a gale, and we were passing
through streams of ice, it was too risky to chance even a short delay,
and consequently I gave instructions that the course should be altered
to due north.

My object was to push between the Balleny Islands and the mainland, and
to make an attempt to follow the coast line from Cape Nort westward,
so as to link up with. Adelie Land. No ship had ever succeeded in
penetrating to the westward of Cape North, heavy pack having been
encountered on the occasion of each attempt. In our attempt we did not
manage to do all that I hoped, but all the same we had the satisfaction
of pushing our little vessel along that coast to longitude 166° 14′
East, latitude 69° 47′ South, a point farther west than had been
reached by any previous expedition.

On the morning of March 8 we saw, beyond Cape North, a new coast-line
extending first to the southwards and then to the west for a distance
of over 45 miles, and Professor David was of opinion that it was the
northern edge of the polar plateau.

Gladly would we have explored this coast but that was impossible, for
the ice was getting thicker and thicker, and it was imperative that we
should escape to clear water without delay.

I still, however, hoped that we might skirt the Balleny Islands and
find Wilkes Land, but about midnight on March 9 I saw that we must go
north, and the course was set in that direction.

As it was we were almost too late, and the situation looked black
indeed when we were held up by the ice, and the ship was quite unable
to move. Fortunately we found a lane through which progress could be
made, and by the afternoon of the 10th we were in fairly open water.

Our troubles were ended, for we had a good voyage to New Zealand, and
on March 22 we dropped anchor at the mouth of Lord's river on the south
side of Stewart Island. I did not go to a port because I wished to get
the news of the expedition's work through to London before we faced the
energetic newspaper men.

That day in March was a wonderful one to all of us. For over a year we
had seen nothing but rocks, ice, snow and sea. No green growth had
gladdened our eyes, no musical notes of birds had come to our ears. No
man who has not spent a period of his life in those "stark and sullen
solitudes that sentinel the Pole" will understand fully what trees, and
flowers, and running streams mean to the soul of a man. We landed on
the stretch of beach that separated the sea from the luxuriant growth
of the forest, and scampered about like children in the sheer joy of
being alive.

Early next morning we hove up the anchor, and at 10 A.M. we entered
Half Moon Bay. There I went ashore, and having despatched my cablegrams
from the little office I went on board again and ordered the course to
be set for Lyttelton, the port from which we had sailed on the first
day of the previous year, and we arrived there on March 25 late in the
afternoon.

The people of New Zealand would have welcomed us, I think, whatever
had been the result of our efforts, for since the early days of the
_Discovery_ expedition their keen interest in Antarctic exploration has
never faltered, and their attitude towards us was always that of warm
personal friendship.

But the news of the measure of success we had achieved had been
published in London and flashed back to the southern countries, and
we were met out in the harbour and on the wharves by cheering crowds.
Enthusiastic friends boarded the _Nimrod_ almost as soon as she entered
the heads, and when our gallant little vessel came alongside the quay
the crowd on deck became so great that movement was almost impossible.

Then I was handed great bundles of letters and cablegrams. The loved
one at home were well, the world was pleased with our work, and it
seemed as though nothing but joy and happiness could ever enter life
again.

[Illustration: Emperor Penguin. (_See page 238_)]




CHAPTER XLV

PENGUINS

(_Some Notes by James Murray, Biologist to the Expedition_)


Though so much has been written about them, penguins always excite
fresh interest in every one who sees them for the first time.

There is endless interest in watching them; the dignified Emperor,
dignified in spite of his clumsy waddle, going along with his wife (or
wives) by his side, the very picture of a successful, self-satisfied,
unsuspicious countryman, and gravely bowing like a Chinaman before a
yelping dog, and also the little undignified matter-of-fact Adelie,
minding his own business in a most praiseworthy manner. Often they
behave with apparent stupidity, but sometimes they show a good deal
of intelligence. Their resemblance to human beings is always noticed,
partly because they walk erect, but they also have many other human
traits. They are the civilised nations of the Antarctic regions, and
their civilisation, if much simpler than ours, is in some respects
higher and more worthy of the name.

But there is also a good deal of human nature in them. As in the
human race, their gathering in colonies does not show any true social
instinct; each penguin is in the rookery for his own ends, there is no
thought of the general good. You might exterminate an Adelie rookery
with the exception of one bird, and he would not mind so long as you
left him alone.

Some suggestion of unselfishness does appear in the nesting habits of
the Adelie, and like men the Adelies have the unpleasant habit of
stealing and the pleasant one of not making eating the prime business
in life. Both Emperors and Adelies, when nesting is off their minds,
show a legitimate curiosity, and having got into good condition they
leave the sea and go off in parties for weeks, apparently to see the
country.

We saw the Emperor penguins only as a summer visitor, when having
finished nesting and having fed up and become glossy and beautiful,
they came up out of the sea, apparently to have a good time before
moulting. While the Adelies were nesting the Emperors came in numbers
to inspect the camp, the two kinds usually paying no attention to each
other unless an Adelie thought an Emperor came too close to her nest,
when an odd unequal quarrel followed. Little impudence, pecking and
scolding, and being more than able to hold her own with the tongue, but
knowing the value of discretion whenever the Emperor raised his flipper.

The Emperors were very inquisitive and would come a long way to see a
motor-car or a man, and when out on these excursions the leader kept
his party together by a long shrill squawk. Distant parties saluted in
this way.

The first party to arrive inspected the boat, and then crossed the lake
to the camp, but when they discovered the dogs all other interests were
swallowed up. After the discovery crowds of Emperors came every day,
and from the manner in which they went straight to the kennels one was
tempted to believe that the fame of the dogs had been noised abroad.

As regards meetings, Emperors were very ceremonious, whether meeting
other Emperors, men, or dogs. They came up to a party of strangers
in a straggling procession, some big aldermanic fellow leading. At a
respectful distance they halted, and the old male waddled close up and
bowed gravely until his head almost touched his breast. With his head
still bowed he made a long speech in a muttering manner, and having
finished his speech he still kept his head bowed for a few seconds
for politeness sake, and then raising it he described with his bill
as large a circle as the joints of his neck would allow, and finally
looked into our faces to see if we understood. If we had not, as
usually was the case, he tried again.

He was infinitely patient with our stupidity, but his followers were
not so patient with him, and presently they would become sure that he
was making a mess of it. Then another male would waddle forward and
elbow the first Emperor aside as if to say, "I'll show you how it ought
to be done," and went again through the whole business.

Their most solemn ceremonies were used towards the dogs, and three old
fellows were seen calmly bowing and speaking at the same time to a dog,
which was yelping and straining at its chain in the desire to get at
them.

Left to themselves the Emperor penguins seemed perfectly peaceable, but
if they did use their flippers they could strike forward or backward
with equal ease.

They seemed to regard men as penguins like themselves, but if a man
walked too fast among them or touched them they were frightened and
ran away, only fighting when closely pressed. As one slowly retreated,
fighting, he had a ludicrous resemblance to a small boy being bullied
by a big one, his flipper being raised in defence towards his foe as
he made quick blows at the bully. It was well to keep clear of that
flipper, for it was very powerful and might easily break an arm.

Many of the stupid acts of both kinds of penguins are doubtless to be
traced to their very defective sight in air, and to this defect one
must ascribe the fact that when they fought the blows from their bills
always fell short.

The Emperor can hardly be said to migrate, but nevertheless he travels
a good deal, and the meaning of some of his journeys remain a mystery.

On journeys they often travel many miles walking erect, when they get
along at a very slow shuffle, making only a few inches at each step.
In walking thus they keep their balance by means of their tails,
which forms a tripod with the legs. When, however, they are on a
suitable snow surface, they progressed rapidly by tobogganing, a very
graceful motion, when they made sledges of their breasts and propelled
themselves by their powerful legs, balancing, and perhaps increasing
their speed, by means of their wings.

Eight of them visited the car one day, sledging swiftly towards us,
and one obstinate old fellow, who was not going to be hurried away
by anybody, had to see the car bearing down upon him before he was
persuaded to hustle.

The Adelie is always comical. He pops out of the water with startling
suddenness, like a jack-in-the-box, alights on his feet, shakes his
tail, and toddles off about his business. He always knows where he
wants to go and what he wants to do, and it is difficult to turn him
aside from his purpose.

In the water the Adelie penguins move rapidly and circle in the same
way as a porpoise or dolphin, for which they are easily mistaken at a
little distance. On level ice or snow they can get along about as fast
as a man at a smart walk, but they find even a small crack a serious
obstruction, and pause and measure with the eye one of a few inches
before very cautiously hopping over it. They flop down and toboggan
over any opening more than a few inches wide. Very rarely they swim in
the water like ducks, and on these infrequent occasions their necks are
below the surface and their heads are just showing.

The Adelie shows true courage in the breeding-season, for after he has
learned to fear man he remains to defend the nest against any odds.
When walking among the nests one is assailed on all sides by powerful
bills, and for protection we wore long felt boots reaching well above
the knee. Some of the clever ones, however, realised that they were
wasting their efforts on the boots, and coming up behind would seize
the skin above the boot and hang on tight, beating with their wings.

Some birds became so greatly interested in the camp that they wanted to
nest there. One bird (we believe it was always the same one) could not
be kept away and used to come every day, until at last he was carried
away by Brocklehurst, a wildly struggling, unconquerable being.

The old birds enjoy play, while the young ones are solely engaged
in satisfying the enormous appetites they have when growing. While
the _Nimrod_ was frozen in the pack some dozens of them disported
themselves in a sea-pool alongside. They swam together in the duck
fashion, then at a squawk from one they all dived and came up at the
other side of the pool.

Early in October they began to arrive at the rookery, singly or in
pairs. The first to come were the males, and they at once began to
scrape up the frozen ground to make hollows for nests, and to collect
stones for the walls with which they surrounded them.

[Illustration: An Adelie calling for a Mate after commencing the Nest.

(_See page 242_)]

When the rookery is pretty well filled, and the nest-building is in
full swing, the birds have a busy and anxious time. To get enough
suitable small stones is a matter of difficulty, and may involve long
journeys for each single stone, so the temptation is too strong for
some of the birds, and they become habitual thieves. The bearing of the
thief, however, clearly shows that he knows that he is doing wrong,
for very different is his furtive look, even after he is quite out of
danger of pursuit, from the expression of the honest penguin coming
home with a hard-earned stone.

A thief, sitting on its own nest, was stealing from an adjacent nest,
whose honest owner was also at home but looking unsuspectingly in
another direction. Casually the latter turned his head and caught the
thief in the very act, whereupon the culprit dropped the stone and
pretended to be busy picking up an infinitesimal crumb from the neutral
ground. Undoubtedly then the penguin has a conscience, at least a human
conscience, that is the fear of being found out.

This stone-gathering is a very strong part of the nesting instinct,
and even if at a late stage the birds lost their eggs or their young,
they began again, in a half-hearted way, to heap up stones. Unmated
birds occupied the fringe of the rookery, and amused themselves piling
and stealing till the chicks began to hatch out.

After the two eggs were laid the males--who always seemed to be in the
majority--used to do most of the work, and judging from certain signs
it would seem that some of the birds never left their nests to feed
during the whole period of incubation. Many birds lost their mates
through the occasional breaking loose of a dog, and these birds could
not leave their nests.




CHAPTER XLVI

THE ADELIES AND THEIR CHICKS


The rookery is most interesting after the chicks arrive. The young
chicks are silvery or stately grey, with darker heads, which are heavy
for the first day or so and hang down helplessly. After hatching the
parents take equal share in tending the chicks, whatever they may have
done before. For some weeks the nest cannot be left untended, or the
chicks would perish of cold or fall victims to the skuas.

When the young ones can hold up their heads the feeding begins, and at
first the parent tries to induce its offspring to feed by tickling its
bill and throat. After the chick has once learned to feed the parents
are taxed by the clamouring for more food.

For some weeks after hatching life in the rookery is smooth enough, for
one parent is always on the nest and the young birds do not wander.
Then the trouble begins, for the young begin to move about, and if
anything disturbs the colony they suffer from panic.

The chicks knowing neither nest nor parent cannot return home, so they
meet the case by adopting parents, and although some of the old ones
resent this method most of the chicks succeed in getting into nests.
The old bird may have chicks already, but as she does not know which
are her own she cannot drive the intruders away, and sometimes we saw a
sorely puzzled parent trying to cover four gigantic chicks.

The times comes when both parents must be absent together to get food
for the growing chicks, and then the social order of the rookery gives
way to chaos. But the social condition which is evolved out of the
chaos is one of the most remarkable in nature, and both serves its
purpose and saves the race. The parents returning with food come back
from the sea with the intention of finding their nests and feeding
their own young ones, but the young one assumes that the first old one
that comes within reach is its parent, and, perhaps, it really thinks
so, as the parents are all alike.

An old bird, coming up full of shrimps, is met by clamorous youngsters
before it has time to begin the search for its nest. The chicks order
the parent to stand and deliver, and the latter scolds and runs off.
But the chicks are both wheedling and imperative, and soon there begins
one of those parent hunts which were so familiar at the end of the
season.

The result, however, is never in doubt. At intervals the old one is
weak enough to stop and expostulate, but there is no indecision on the
part of the young ones, which in the most matter-of-fact and persistent
manner hunt the old one down.

Sometimes these chases last for miles, but in the end the old one
stops, and still spluttering and protesting delivers up.

One would think that under these circumstances the weaker chicks would
go to the wall, but as far as could be seen there were no ill-nourished
young ones. Perhaps the hunt takes so long that all get a chance.

A few days after the eggs began to hatch there was a severe blizzard,
which lasted for several days. Where the snow had drifted deepest,
nests and birds were covered out of sight, and the indication of the
whereabouts of a bird was a little funnel in the snow, at the bottom of
which an anxious eye could be seen. On a moderate estimate about half
the young perished in this blizzard.

[Illustration: Adelie trying to mother a couple of well-grown
Strangers. (_See page 215_)]

The old Adelies do not mind the cold, their thick blubber and dense fur
protecting them sufficiently, and in a blizzard they will lie still and
let the snow cover them. Once after a blizzard I went to the rookery
and could see no penguins, but suddenly, at some noise, they sprung out
of the snow, and I was surrounded by them.

While the Adelie appears to be entirely moral in his domestic
arrangements, his stupidity (or his short-sightedness, which causes
him to seem stupid) gives rise to many complications. All the birds go
to their nests without hesitating when they come from the sea by the
familiar route, but if taken from their nests to another part of the
rookery, some easily find their way back but others are quite lost.
They are most puzzled when moved only a little way from home, and they
will fight to keep another bird's nest while their own is only a couple
of feet away.

There is no doubt, however, that the presence of our camp upset their
social arrangements, and probably when undisturbed there would be no
confusion and complications.

As it was, a mere walk among the nests caused innumerable
entanglements, for one bird would leave its nest in fright, and flop
down a yard away beside a nest already occupied, or on a nest left
exposed by another frightened bird.

But in all such cases, even when a bird got established on the wrong
nest, things were always put straight afterwards. When they calmed down
they became uneasy, probably observing the landmarks more critically,
and they would even leave a nest with chicks for their own empty nest.

We tried some experiments on the penguins in order to trace the working
of their minds. If one of us stood between a bird and its nest so
as to prevent it from approaching, the bird would make many furious
attempts to reach home. After a time, however, it would appear to
meditate, and then walk off rather disconsolately, and having made
a tour of the colony would approach the nest from the other side.
Apparently it was greatly astonished to find that the intruder was
still there, and this curious trait was often seen.

It is like the ostrich burying its head in the sand and imagining
itself safe, or like a man refusing to believe his own eyes. It appears
to think that if it comes to the nest from the other side the horrible
vision will have disappeared.

A lost chick was never sought for, indeed there would have been no use
in such a proceeding for it could not be recognised. On account of
this peculiarity we were able to make many readjustments of the family
arrangements. When the blizzard destroyed so many chicks we distributed
the young from nests where there were two to nests where there were
none, and these chicks were usually adopted with eagerness.

When both birds are at a nest that is disturbed, or when the mate comes
up from feeding to relieve guard, there is an interchange of civilities
in the form of a loud squawking in unison, accompanied by a curious
movement. The birds' necks are crossed, and at each squawk they are
changed from side to side, first right then left. We were for some time
mistaken in thinking that this harsh clamour was quarrelling.

A bird returning from the sea came to the wrong nest and tried to
converse with the occupant, who would have nothing to do with him.
The occupant knew that her mate had just gone off for the day, and
would not be such a fool as to return too early, so she sat still,
indifferent to the squawking of the other. Presently a look of distress
came into the visitor's face as he failed to get a response, but he was
very slow to realise that he had made a mistake.

The Adelies are not demonstrative of their affections, and it is
difficult to discover if they have any beyond the instinctive affection
for the young. One curious incident, however, did occur, which
possibly, was in opposition to what we expected after a long study of
the penguins' habits.

An injured bird which we had tried to nurse died, and shortly
afterwards a live penguin was found standing by it. We moved the dead
bird to a distance, and after a time found the other again standing
beside it. It was the general opinion that this was the dead bird's
mate which had found it out. From any point of view the occurrence was
puzzling, but I find it less difficult to believe that the bird had
found its dead mate than that it took an interest in a dead stranger,
because there were always plenty of dead birds about a rookery, and the
living went about entirely indifferent to them.

Instances of real kindness were sometimes noticed; for instance, our
passage through the rookery frightened away the parent of a very young
chick, and a bird passing a few yards away noticed this and came over
to the chick. The bird cocked his head on one side as if saying:
"Hullo! this little beggar's deserted; must do something for him." Then
he tickled its bill, but the chick was too frightened to feed. After
coaxing it in this way the bird turned away and put some food on the
ground, and then lifting a little in his bill he put some on each side
of the chick's bill. This was not an isolated case, but was observed
on several occasions, the helper always running off when the rightful
parent returned.

[Illustration: Penguins listening to the Gramophone during the Summer]

One incident seemed to reveal true social instinct. From a small colony
all the eggs except one were taken to see if the birds would lay again.
As it happened they did not, and, after the birds had sat on their
empty nests for some time, they disappeared. But when the time came for
the solitary egg to hatch quite half the nests were re-occupied, and
the birds took their share in defending the one chick.

When the young birds have shed most of their down they cease from
hunting the old ones for food, and congregating at the edge of the sea
appear to be waiting for something. When the right time, which they
seem to know perfectly, comes, they dive into the sea, sometimes in
small parties, sometimes singly, disappear and may be seen popping up
far out to sea. They dive and come up very awkwardly, but swim well.

It is marvellous how fully instinct makes these birds independent,
for the parents do not take them to the water and teach them to swim,
indeed the old ones stay behind to moult. Though the chicks have
spent their lives on land and only know that food is something found
in an old bird's throat, when the time comes they leave the land and
plunge boldly into the sea, untaught, to get their living by straining
crustacea out of the water in the same way as a whale does.

Some of our party did report that they saw penguins teaching the young
to swim, but if this ever happens it is not general.

Like the Emperor, the Adelie is fond of travelling when free from
family cares. The great blizzard unfortunately left hundreds of old
birds with no chicks to guard and feed, and they began to explore the
country in bands. The round of the lakes was a favourite trip, and
tracks also led to the summits of some of the hills, although the
short-sighted Adelie could hardly have gone there for the view.

There was no general trek southwards, such as the Emperors made, but
the Southern Party found tracks of two Adelies at a distance of some 80
miles from the sea.

While chaos reigned in the rookery I found two Adelie chicks exhausted
and covered with mire, and I took them to the hut and bestowed upon
them the dignified names of Nebuchadnezzar and Nicodemus. They were
placed in a large cage in the porch, and fed by hand with sardines and
fish-cakes. They did not, however, like our way of feeding them, and
it was necessary to force the food so far down their throats that they
were compelled to swallow it.

In a few days they became quite tame and recognised those who fed them.
Familiar only with our peculiar method of feeding them, one of them
used to show when he was hungry by taking my finger into his bill.

We shortened their names to Nebby and Nicky and they answered to them,
but they answered with equal readiness to the common name of Bill. When
sounds from the rookery reached them they would become greatly excited,
and tried so desperately to get through the netting of their cage that
we used to take them out for a walk. Then they would make no attempt to
go to the rookery and were rather frightened.

Nebuchadnezzar was a very friendly little fellow, and would follow
me about outside and come running when called. But their feeding was
unnatural, and for this reason, doubtless, both of them died after a
few weeks.

A single ringed penguin appeared at Cape Royds at the end of the
breeding season, just as the Adelies were beginning to moult. It
is about the same size as the Adelie but is more agile, and at a
little distance, among a crowd of old Adelies, he looked not unlike a
young Adelie with the white throat. But when I picked him up by the
legs to investigate, he surprised me by curling round and biting me
on the hand--a feat that the Adelie could not perform--and a closer
examination showed me what he was. Never before had a ringed penguin
been seen in this part of the Antarctic.




CHAPTER XLVII

NOTES


The first seals which we met on this expedition were seen on our voyage
from New Zealand before we entered the actual line of bergs. I did
not see them myself, but from descriptions I gathered that one was a
crabeater, and the other a Weddell seal. Later on, of course, seals
were to be seen in numbers, and one of the reasons why I selected Cape
Royds for our winter quarters was because I saw plenty of them lying on
the bay ice, and consequently we should not be likely to suffer from a
lack of fresh meat.

On the return from the Magnetic Pole, Mackay found two young seals,
which behaved in a most unusual manner, for instead of waiting without
moving, as did most of the Weddell seals, they scuttled away actively
and quickly.

Later on he discovered that these two seals belonged to the
comparatively rare variety known as Ross seal.

On our voyage back to New Zealand I sent a party to the seal rookery
near Pram Point to see if they could find a peculiar seal that we had
noticed on the previous night.

This seal was either a new species or the female of the Ross seal.
It was a small animal, about four feet six inches long, with a broad
white band from its throat right down to its tail on the underside. The
search, however, proved a fruitless one.

On our voyage out albatrosses were numerous, especially the sooty
species, the death of which, on Shelvoke's voyage, inspired Coleridge's
memorable poem. I noticed one, flying low between the two ships, strike
its wings against the wire tow-line, which had suddenly emerged from
the waves owing to the lift of the _Koonya's_ stern upon a sea.

Skua gulls were bathing and flying about in hundreds when we first
arrived at Cape Royds. But the most remarkable bird seen on our
expedition was discovered by Marshall and Adams on our southern
journey, remarkable because it was seen in latitude 83° 40′ South.

This bird was brown in colour with a white line under each wing, and it
flew just over their heads and disappeared to the south.

They were sure that it was not a skua gull, which was the only bird I
could think would venture so far south. Indeed, on my previous southern
trip, when in latitude 80° 30′ South, a skua gull had arrived shortly
after we had killed a dog.

As regards bears I have nothing to say except that there are none down
south.

[Illustration: The Special Surcharged Expedition Stamp with Postmark]


       *       *       *       *       *


Transcriber Note


Minor typos corrected. Text rejoined where split by images.

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 69138 ***