THE TERRA NOVA GOES SOUTH 33 



to be, for six stalwart explorers have their quarters there. 

 Black envy at times embitters the friendly feelings between the 

 neighbours, for has not the nursery a cupboard with a whole 

 drawer (two inches high) to each inmate ! A somewhat 

 doubtful joy is theirs, however, for by far the most prominent 

 piece of furniture therein — and, indeed, there are only two 

 besides the cupboard — is a Broadwood pianola ! One of the 

 first I ever saw was in Samoa, twenty miles from a town, and 

 owned by a native gentleman. In that case it was a separate 

 attachment, and as his piano had lost many of the strings, 

 little good resulted from the combination. But our pianola 

 is a thing of beauty and a joy for ever. The new-comer 

 notices a bulge in the ceiling — apparently of rubber — with a 

 hose pipe attached thereto. This is a primitive but necessary 

 adjunct to our pianola, and is, in fact, its little umbrella, which 

 keeps it dry when the stormy winds do blow and poop-decks 

 leak. The other piece of furniture, mentioned above, is a 

 tall wooden cabinet, containing 250 rolls for the pianola. 

 Although probably every member of the expedition has barked 

 his shins thereon, yet all is forgiven when Wagner, Gilbert 

 and Sullivan, Strauss, the Washington Post, or Ragtime tunes 

 (not being a musician, I do not know the names of 245 of 

 them) are echoing through the wardroom. Another trial to 

 the men of the nursery is that their apartments form a short 

 cut to the engine-room. It is only since we reached the pack 

 that a constant procession of intruders, bearing unpleasing 

 foot-gear and damp clothing (to spread on the cylinder head), 

 has ceased to trespass. 



Across the for'ard end of the wardroom is an important 

 room dedicated to the culinary arts. Here the two stewards 

 cut up succulent joints, and during a gale a merry jostling 

 and jangling of countless plates and pannikins rival the notes 

 of the pianola. The entrance to the wardroom is on the 

 starboard side. It is beset with angles and pitfalls. When a 

 visitor has safely negotiated the steep steps leading from the 

 poop-deck, and turned sharply round to enter the wardroom, 

 he is in grave danger of falling down a hatch to the lazaret 

 and chronometer-room. Theoretically, when the hatch is 

 open (about six hours a day) an iron bar is placed across the 

 passage. Practically the natives feel with an exploratory toe 

 in the dark entrance, and press on boldly if the hatch is down. 



D 



