THE DEPOT JOURNEY 157 
“Cherry, Crean, we’re floating out to sea,” was the start- 
ling awakening from Bowers, standing in his socks outside 
the tent at 4.30 a.m. that Wednesday morning. And in- 
deed at first sight on getting outside the tent it looked a 
quite hopeless situation. I thought it was madness to try 
and save the ponies and gear when, it seemed, the only 
chance at all of saving the men was an immediate rush for 
the Barrier, and I said so. ‘‘ Well, I’m going to try,” was 
Bowers’ answer, and, quixotic or no, he largely succeeded. 
I never knewa man who treated difficulties with such scorn. 
There must be some of my companions who look back 
upon Hut Point with a peculiar fondness, such as men get 
for places where they have experienced great joys and great 
trials. And Hut Point has an atmosphere of its own. I do 
not know what it is. Partly aesthetic, for the sea and great 
mountains, and the glorious colour effects which prevail in 
spring and autumn, would fascinate the least imaginative ; 
partly mysterious, with the Great Barrier knocking at your 
door, and the smoke of Erebus by day and the curtain of 
Aurora by night; partly the associations of the place—the 
old hut, the old landmarks, so familiar to those who know 
the history of the Discovery Expedition, the stakes in the 
snow, the holes for which ice was dug to water the ship, 
Vince’s Cross on the Point. Now there is another Cross, 
on Observation Hill. 
And yet when we first arrived the hut was comfortless 
enough. Wilson and Meares and Gran had been there 
some days; they had found some old bricks and a grid, 
and there was an open blubber fire in the middle of the 
floor. There was no outlet for the smoke and smuts and it 
was impossible to see your neighbour, to speak without 
coughing, or to open your eyes long before they began to 
smart. Atkinson and Crean had cleared the floor of ice 
in our absence, but the space between the lower and 
‘upper roofs was solid with blue ice, and the lower roof 
sagged down in places in a dangerous way. The wind 
howled continuously and to say that the hut was cold is a 
very mild expression of the reality. 
