THE TERRA NOFJ GOES SOUTH 105 



Every one is familiar with the appearance of Shackleton's 

 hut. It is very snugly placed in a little dell leading to a 

 small lake, which empties into the sea over some steep cliffs a 

 quarter of a mile away. It seemed extraordinary that so many 

 empty boxes and such piles of debris could have been the 

 result of fourteen months' stay. I suppose our camp will 

 appear the same three years after we have departed. We 

 skirted round the ruined pony shelter, over boxes of cork 

 packing and cases of empty bottles. The door of the porch 

 had carried away, but the inner door was standing. A foot of 

 ice sealed it at the bottom, but hanging on the door was an 

 envelope addressed in Professor David's hand, " To Any One 

 who may visit Cape Royds." It did not enter his mind 

 when he placed it there that an old student of his would be the 

 first to see this. The envelope contained a short account of 

 the results of the 1907 expedition, left there "in case the 

 Nimrod is lost on her return voyage." I carried the re- 

 cord back to Captain Scott, a very interesting document, 

 though luckily not of vital importance, since the expedition's 

 success was not marred by any accident at the eleventh 

 hour. 



We then set about getting into the hut. Cutting into the 

 ice with our ice axes we came to a tightly fixed block of wood 

 — which we thought had been placed there to fasten the door. 

 More chips of ice were removed by the ice-axes, and we saw 

 that it was merely a broom, which had fallen down and been 

 embedded its whole length in a foot of ice. There was nothing 

 for it but to cut away this stubborn sentinel, and then it was 

 possible to open the door a foot or so. 



We entered with much curiosity. All the windows had 

 been covered with battens, but I did not expect to find it so 

 snug and untouched by the weather. Not a grain of snow 

 seems to have entered. We opened one window, and the 

 place might have been abandoned the day before. On the low 

 table in the centre a meal had been left. Condensed milk, 

 saucers, biscuits, jam, and gingerbread. The latter were very 

 good, and not harmed by two years' exposure. At the back 

 was a tray from the oven with a batch of scones just cooked, 

 and a loaf of bread. I lifted the latter, and the whole outer 

 surface peeled away, leaving a ball in the middle. This is 

 just the way basalt weathers when exposed to the air, and it is 



