The next morning, February 27, we woke to a regular cold autumn blizzard—­very thick, wind force 9 and temperature about minus twenty.  This was disheartening, and indeed with our six worn ponies still on the Barrier the outlook for them was discouraging.  The blizzard came to an end the next morning.  Scott must take up the first part of that day’s story: 

“Packed up at 6 A.M. and marched into Safety Camp.  Found every one very cold and depressed.  Wilson and Meares had had continuous bad weather since we left, Bowers and Oates since their arrival.  The blizzard had raged for two days.  The animals looked in a sorry condition, but all were alive.  The wind blew keen and cold from the east.  There could be no advantage in waiting here, and soon all arrangements were made for a general shift to Hut Point.  Packing took a long time.  The snowfall had been prodigious, and parts of the sledges were 3 or 4 feet under drift.  About 4 o’clock the two dog-teams got safely away.  Then the pony party prepared to go.  As the cloths were stript from the ponies the ravages of the blizzard became evident.  The animals, without exception, were terribly emaciated, and Weary Willie was in a pitiable condition.

“The plan was for the ponies to follow the dog tracks, our small party to start last and get in front of the ponies on the sea-ice.  I was very anxious about the sea-ice passage owing to the spread of the water holes."[122]

The two dog-teams left with Meares and Wilson some time before the ponies, and for the moment they go out of this story.

Bowers’ pony, Uncle Bill, was ready first, and he started with him.  We got three more ponies harnessed, Punch, Nobby and Guts, and tried to harness Weary Willie, but when we attempted to lead him forward he immediately fell down.

Scott rapidly reorganized.  He sent Crean and me forward with the three better ponies to join Bowers, now waiting a mile ahead.  Oates and Gran he kept with himself, to try and help the sick pony.  His diary tells how “we made desperate efforts to save the poor creature, got him once more on his legs, gave him a hot oat mash.  Then, after a wait of an hour, Oates led him off, and we packed the sledge and followed on ski; 500 yards from the camp the poor creature fell again and I felt it was the last effort.  We camped, built a snow wall round him, and did all we possibly could to get him on his feet.  Every effort was fruitless, though the poor thing made pitiful struggles.  Towards midnight we propped him up as comfortably as we could and went to bed.

“Wednesday, March 1.  A.M.  Our pony died in the night.  It is hard to have got him back so far only for this.  It is clear that these blizzards are terrible for the poor animals.  Their coats are not good, but even with the best of coats it is certain they would lose condition badly if caught in one, and we cannot afford to lose condition at the beginning of a journey.  It makes a late start necessary for next year.