214 WITH SCOTT : THE SILVER LINING 



Wright, bore with equanimity the name of Cousin Silas, 

 though perhaps Carolus and Tranter [Toronto) were more to 

 his taste. Bernardo Day and trigger (Tryggve) Gran were 

 less remarkable ekenames. I gave up counting my own. 

 McCormick (Skua — alluding to the rapid disappearance of 

 some apricots), Keir-Hardy, Sharn-Gatch, and Old Griff were 

 but a few. 



Before we had time to change into semi-civilized garb the 

 indefatigable Ponting had us outside to " pont " for him. 

 Luckily there were no melting icicles available, and he was 

 content to get us standing near the sledges. Some of the 

 others had already shaved off their beards, much to Ponting's 

 disgust ; but mine was so rudely criticised that I kept it most 

 of the winter to show my opinion of it ! I assisted Ponting 

 to the best of my ability by adding a touch of verisimilitude 

 to Debenham's photograph, and threw some snow at him at 

 the critical moment ; but most of us looked such pirates, 

 that there was no need for any further touch of Antarctica 

 about us. 



I spent the day sorting gear, " . . . and about I p.m. I had 

 a gorgeous bath — the first for three months. Funny thing, no 

 effect from no wash, no change, no hair brush, etc." 



I suppose the cold accounts for no ill consequences, but I 

 have ever since felt more sympathy for the Southern European 

 peasants, for their ablutions are equally simple ; they also do 

 without a lot of impedimenta, and are equally healthy ! 



Ponting took his plates off to the dark-room, and sub- 

 mitted proofs next day ! " Debenham says he looks just like 

 an aboriginal — and far be it from me to contradict him." 

 Captain Scott and Seaman Evans seemed to develop an 

 Irish appearance, while I scorn to repeat the comments on my 

 portrait. 



On Sunday afternoon I had a stroll with Nelson, who told 

 me how the nine at the hut had spent the time. Dr. Simpson 

 was in charge, and had converted the newly built hut into a 

 palace of mystery. In his corner to the south-east a small 

 Gardiner oil engine was clacking away. This was used 

 primarily, in conjunction with a dynamo, to charge accumu- 

 lators for his electrical recording instruments. Mysterious 

 clicks and gasps and ticking galore warned us that chrono- 

 graphs and other wild fowl, to be described later, were brooding 



