Friday, March 3, A.M.—­I was interrupted when writing yesterday and continue my story this morning....  In the middle of the night at 4.30 Bowers got out of the tent and discovered the ice had broken all round him:  a crack ran under the picketing line, and one pony had disappeared.  They had packed with great haste and commenced jumping the ponies from floe to floe, then dragging the loads over after—­the three men must have worked splendidly and fearlessly.  At length they had worked their way to heavier floes lying near the Barrier edge, and at one time thought they could get up, but soon discovered that there were gaps everywhere off the high Barrier face.  In this dilemma Crean volunteering was sent off to try to reach me.  The sea was like a cauldron at the time of the break up, and killer whales were putting their heads up on all sides.  Luckily they did not frighten the ponies.

He travelled a great distance over the sea ice, leaping from floe to floe, and at last found a thick floe from which with help of ski stick he could climb the Barrier face.  It was a desperate venture, but luckily successful.

As soon as I had digested Crean’s news I sent Gran back to Hut Point with Wilson and Meares and started with my sledge, Crean, and Oates for the scene of the mishap.  We stopped at Safety Camp to load some provisions and oil and then, marching carefully round, approached the ice edge.  To my joy I caught sight of the lost party.  We got our Alpine rope and with its help dragged the two men to the surface.  I pitched camp at a safe distance from the edge and then we all started salvage work.  The ice had ceased to drift and lay close and quiet against the Barrier edge.  We got the men at 5.30 P.M. and all the sledges and effects on to the Barrier by 4 A.M.  As we were getting up the last loads the ice showed signs of drifting off, and we saw it was hopeless to try and move the ponies.  The three poor beasts had to be left on their floe for the moment, well fed.  None of our party had had sleep the previous night and all were dog tired.  I decided we must rest, but turned everyone out at 8.30 yesterday morning.  Before breakfast we discovered the ponies had drifted away.  We had tried to anchor their floe with the Alpine rope, but the anchors had drawn.  It was a sad moment.  At breakfast we decided to pack and follow the Barrier edge:  this was the position when I last wrote, but the interruption came when Bowers, who had taken the binoculars, announced that he could see the ponies about a mile to the N.W.  We packed and went on at once.  We found it easy enough to get down to the poor animals and decided to rush them for a last chance of life.  Then there was an unfortunate mistake:  I went along the Barrier edge and discovered what I thought and what proved to be a practicable way to land a pony, but the others meanwhile, a little overwrought, tried to leap Punch across a gap.  The poor beast fell in; eventually we had to kill him—­it was