THE POLAR JOURNEY 3 $$ 



seven miles. Generally it was not Scott's team which made 

 the heaviest weather these days but on December 12 they 

 were in greater difficulties than any of us. It was indeed 

 a gruelling day, for the surface was worse than ever and 

 many men were snow-blind. After five hours' work in the 

 morning we were about half a mile forward. We were in a 

 sea of pressure, the waves coming at us from our starboard 

 bow, the distance between the crests not being very great. 

 We could not have advanced at all had it not been for our 

 ski: "on foot one sinks to the knees, and if pulling on a 

 sledge to half way between knee and thigh." x 



On December 13, " the sledges sank in over twelve 

 inches, and all the gear, as well as the thwartship 

 pieces, were acting as breaks. The tugs and heaves we 

 enjoyed, and the number of times we had to get out of our 

 ski to upright the sledge, were trifles compared with the 

 strenuous exertion of every muscle and nerve to keep the 

 wretched drag from stopping when once under weigh ; 

 and then it would stick, and all the starting operations had 

 to be gone through afresh. We did perhaps half a mile in 

 the forenoon. Anticipating a better surface in the after- 

 noon we got a shock. Teddy [Evans] led off half an hour 

 earlier to pilot a way, and Captain Scott tried some fake 

 with his spare runners [he lashed them under the sledge to 

 prevent the cross-pieces ploughing the snow] that in- 

 volved about an hour's work. We had to continually turn 

 our runners up to scrape the ice off them, for in these 

 temperatures they are liable to get warm and melt the 

 snow on them, and that freezes into knobs of ice which 

 act like sandpaper or spikes on a pair of skates. We bust 

 off second full of hope having done so well in the forenoon, 

 but pride goeth [before a fall]. We stuck ten yards from 

 the camp, and nine hours later found us little more than 

 half a mile on. I have never seen a sledge sink so. I have 

 never pulled so hard, or so nearly crushed my inside into my 

 backbone by the everlasting jerking with all my strength 

 on the canvas band round my unfortunate tummy. We 

 were all in the same boat however. 



1 Scott's Last Expedition, vol. i. p. 499. 



