THE TERRA NOVA GOES SOUTH 61 



iron bent like a rough fish-hook — was fixed in the floe, and 

 stout ropes looped round projecting hummocks. This par- 

 ticular floe, in the place of being perfectly flat, and only a few 

 inches above the level of the sea, was covered with large blocks 

 of ice some four feet long and two feet or three feet through. 

 A fragment of these blocks when tasted was found to be sweet, 

 so that here, five hundred miles from Antarctica, we had an 

 abundant supply of water, not only for the boilers, but also 

 for drinking purposes. Probably these fresh-water blocks 

 had dropped on the floe from some disintegrating berg — for 

 the latter, as explained previously, were originally beds of 



snow. 



The ship, with its attached floe, drifted gradually to the 

 east, and a merry scene, lasting some hours, now took place. 

 A sloping board was placed against the ship's side, and from 

 this a stout plank led some distance over the floe. With 

 pickaxes and crowbars the crew and afterguard attacked the 

 ice blocks. These had a bad habit of splitting into useless 

 crescent-shaped fragments, but sometimes the crowbars would 

 wedge off a piece the size of a cabin trunk, and this could 

 then be broken into fragments of the size of a football with 

 ease and celerity. 



The surfaces of smooth ice were very slippery, and led to 

 several grievous tumbles which awakened more merriment 

 than sympathy. Occasionally, in prospecting for a fresh 

 quarry, the pioneer's foot would slip through the floe, and he 

 would realise with a shudder that terra firma lay 11,784 feet 

 below him. (We sounded, with this result, earlier in the day.) 

 However, such slips led to nothing but wet clothes, and they 

 were not sufficiently novel to excite remark. A chain of men 

 led from the quarrymen to the plank, and blocks were tossed 

 along to slide from the plank to the wooden ramp, and up 

 this with a " Yo-heave-ho " to the deck. Nearer labourers 

 would send their contributions hurtling through the air, with 

 a warning cry of " Fore ! " that was not always heard. This 

 animated scene attracted our cinematographer, and his battery 

 opened on us while the sport waxed fast and furious. In the 

 open lanes around the floe our Norwegian dinghy (or pram) 

 was manoeuvring, retrieving birds shot by the zoologists from 

 the poop. Nearly a dozen were shot for museums without 

 difficulty, for the innocent creatures continued to swoop around 



