Sunday, March ll.—­Titus Oates is very near the end, one feels.  What we or he will do, God only knows.  We discussed the matter after breakfast; he is a brave fine fellow and understands the situation, but he practically asked for advice.  Nothing could be said but to urge him to march as long as he could.  One satisfactory result to the discussion; I practically ordered Wilson to hand over the means of ending our troubles to us, so that anyone of us may know how to do so.  Wilson had no choice between doing so and our ransacking the medicine case.  We have 30 opium tabloids apiece and he is left with a tube of morphine.  So far the tragical side of our story. (R. 53.)

The sky completely overcast when we started this morning.  We could see nothing, lost the tracks, and doubtless have been swaying a good deal since—­3.1 miles for the forenoon—­terribly heavy dragging—­expected it.  Know that 6 miles is about the limit of our endurance now, if we get no help from wind or surfaces.  We have 7 days’ food and should be about 55 miles from One Ton Camp to-night, 6 x 7 = 42, leaving us 13 miles short of our distance, even if things get no worse.  Meanwhile the season rapidly advances.

Monday, March 12.—­We did 6.9 miles yesterday, under our necessary average.  Things are left much the same, Oates not pulling much, and now with hands as well as feet pretty well useless.  We did 4 miles this morning in 4 hours 20 min.—­we may hope for 3 this afternoon, 7 x 6 = 42.  We shall be 47 miles from the depot.  I doubt if we can possibly do it.  The surface remains awful, the cold intense, and our physical condition running down.  God help us!  Not a breath of favourable wind for more than a week, and apparently liable to head winds at any moment.

Wednesday, March 14.—­No doubt about the going downhill, but everything going wrong for us.  Yesterday we woke to a strong northerly wind with temp. -37 deg..  Couldn’t face it, so remained in camp (R. 54) till 2, then did 5 1/4 miles.  Wanted to march later, but party feeling the cold badly as the breeze (N.) never took off entirely, and as the sun sank the temp. fell.  Long time getting supper in dark. (R. 55.)

This morning started with southerly breeze, set sail and passed another cairn at good speed; half-way, however, the wind shifted to W. by S. or W.S.W., blew through our wind clothes and into our mits.  Poor Wilson horribly cold, could not get off ski for some time.  Bowers and I practically made camp, and when we got into the tent at last we were all deadly cold.  Then temp, now midday down -43 deg. and the wind strong.  We must go on, but now the making of every camp must be more difficult and dangerous.  It must be near the end, but a pretty merciful end.  Poor Oates got it again in the foot.  I shudder to think what it will be like to-morrow.  It is only with greatest pains rest of us keep off frostbites.  No idea there could be temperatures like this at this time of year with such winds.  Truly awful outside the tent.  Must fight it out to the last biscuit, but can’t reduce rations.