THE HEART OF THE ANTARCTIC 



The giant petrel and the httle Wilson's petrel were the 

 only birds that ranged right from the New Zealand coast 

 to the shores of Victoria Land. 



In the open sea to the south of the belt of ice even the 

 Antarctic and Snowy petrels for the most part left us. 



The desolation and lifelessness of the Antarctic were 

 fully realised as we approached the great Ice Barrier. 

 There was no living thing in sight as we steamed east- 

 ward, tracing the line of this immense glacier. Towards 

 midnight there opened suddenly to our sight a scene of 

 abounding life. The cliff of the Barrier terminated, and 

 a wide bay opened up, extending far to the south, and 

 partly filled by fast ice of one season's growth. Away 

 to the eastward the cliff recommenced. This bay, which 

 we afterwards referred to by the appropriate name of the 

 Bay of Whales, was teeming with all the familiar kinds 

 of Antarctic life. Hundreds of whales, killers, finners, 

 and humpbacks, were rising and blowing all around. On 

 the ice groups of Weddell seals were basking in the mid- 

 night sunshine. Emperor penguins were standing about 

 or tobogganing in unconcerned parties. Skua gulls were 

 flying heavily, or sitting drowsily on the ice. Only the 

 Adelie penguin (busy nesting elsewhere), and the rarer 

 kinds of seal were absent. 



It could hardly be supposed that this was a chance 

 gathering of all these animals. Passing the same spot on 

 the return journey westward, there was still the same 

 abundance of life. There was probably land near by. 



Cape Royds. — To the biologist, no more uninviting 

 desert is imaginable than Cape Royds seemed when we 

 made our first landing, and for long afterwards. Here 

 is absolute desolation, a black and white wilderness, rugged 

 ridges of lava alternating with snowdrifts for a few miles, 

 ending to the north and south in crevassed glaciers, and 



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