402 WITH SCOTT: THE SILVER LINING 



I was just writing the last line of the poem when Gran 

 yelled out " Ship ho ! " We had seen ships many times 

 already, but he was certain of this, so we turned out, and 

 there, under the fang of Erebus, we could see some topmasts. 

 Later we could make out three masts and black smoke, so we 

 knew it was the good old 'Terra Nova, and not the Fram y 

 which burned smokeless oil fuel. 



We set about elevating our flags further up the glacier. 

 We took them up a long way, nearly to the top, as we thought. 

 On our return we saw they were only one quarter of the way 

 up, a good example of the trickiness of snow-slopes in this 

 respect. I arranged night watches to observe any signals or 

 sledge parties, and we turned in hoping to be aboard in 

 twenty-four hours. 



[Nay, gentle reader, you are not at the end of my 

 narrative ; it was just twenty-four days before we were 

 relieved.] 



Next day she was in much the same position, about twenty 

 miles away across the screw pack and broken floes. About 

 two miles away a great crack stretched from north and south. 

 It was fully eight miles long, and seemed to presage the 

 breaking up of the sea ice. 



On the 22nd we could not see the ship. A strong south 

 wind sprang up, and the gradually clouding sky seemed to 

 portend a blizzard. "The stronger the better," I write, "if 

 it will only drive out this blessed floe." We took a few 

 photographs. There were two Emperor penguins moulting 

 on each side of our Cape, but Debenham reported that they 

 were too frightful to photo ! Forde and I had a day with my 

 stereo-camera, taking various interesting details around the 

 Cape — planed granite blocks, pressure ice in the bay, and 

 then the Emperors, awful as they were, several seal and berg 

 pictures, etc. ; but sad to relate all these negatives were 

 smashed when the sledge fell over the glacier cliff. However, 

 I made sketches of the most interesting features ; for instance, 

 one corner of a berg showed very well how flexible are large 

 masses of ice. 



I did not entertain the idea of trying to reach Pennell 

 across the screw-pack. We should get into more precarious 

 regions each mile, and we could not communicate with the 

 ship to ensure her awaiting us. Pennell could send a party 



