1912] THE’ SKUA GULLS 185 
couldn’t do anything and pushed on. I got some relief for my 
blessed tired legs by marching a longer stride, and we plugged on 
hoping it would hold firm another hour. However at long 
length we began to see details in the never-ending glacier wall on 
our left—icicles, crevasses and snow-drifts—and at last could 
make out a feasible slope up on to the cape and felt safe. I had 
cramp from the pulling and couldn’t move for a time.’ It was, 
however, a distinct anticlimax when we got to the top of the cape 
to see that we had been misled by some queer shadows, that 
there was firm ice for at least seven miles and no sign of water 
anywhere! However, our experience at New Harbour made 
both Debenham and myself realise the risk we were running if 
the break-up of the ice—now long overdue—had eventuated. 
‘ Monday, January 15, 1912; the day on which we were to 
‘be relieved. Nary a relief—nor any sign of it, and skuas 
squawking round us! 
‘We surveyed our cape expecting to find lots, of pools of 
water, but there is none anywhere. Everything is covered with 
snow except the big boulders and three patches of gravel—of 
which we have annexed the largest.’ When we arrived each was 
inhabited by a pair of skua gulls—which we may call White, 
Black, and Gray. The Whites had one egg, the Blacks a young 
chick, and the Grays two eggs. ‘The history of these families 
was pathetic in the extreme. 
We dispossessed the Blacks, and I put young Blackie in a 
new nest—just as well made as his own—which I scraped out a 
little distance away. The parents fled squawking and left the 
chicken cruising about on strong stumpy legs with the head low 
like an apteryx. All night long it yelled for food, so next day 
I transferred it to the Whites’ nest near the warm egg. Mean- 
while Debenham set up the blubber stove on a rock ledge near by, 
to get to which he crossed the Grays’ nest rather frequently. 
They resented this, but sensibly made the best of a bad job and 
ate up their eggs. 
The further history of young Blackie was chronicled by the 
Sledge Poet: 
“Lo! A miracle hath happened,’ said returning Skua-White, 
“ Here’s our nest just full of chicken, full of howling appetite.’ 
Said Skua-White unto his mate, ‘ For fear this should become a habit 
We'd better eat our egg—Besides, you may be very sure he’d grab it.’ 
