“We packed up camp and harnessed up our ponies in remarkably quick time.  When ready to move I had to decide which way to go.  Obviously towards Cape Armitage was impossible, and to the eastward also, as the wind was from that direction, and we were already floating west towards the open sound.  Our only hope lay to the south, and thither I went.  We found the ponies would jump the intervals well.  At least Punch would and the other two would follow him.  My idea was never to separate, but to get everything on to one floe at a time; and then wait till it touched or nearly touched another in the right direction, and then jump the ponies over and drag the four sledges across ourselves.  In this way we made slow, but sure progress.  While one was acting all was well, the waiting for a lead to close was the worst trial.  Sometimes it would take 10 minutes or more, but there was so much motion in the ice that sooner or later bump you would go against another piece, and then it was up and over.  Sometimes they split, sometimes they bounced back so quickly that only one horse could get over, and then we had to wait again.  We had to make frequent detours and were moving west all the time with the pack, still we were getting south, too.

“Very little was said.  Crean like most bluejackets behaved as if he had done this sort of thing often before.  Cherry, the practical, after an hour or two dug out some chocolate and biscuit, during one of our enforced waits, and distributed it.  I felt at that time that food was the last thing on earth I wanted, and put it in my pocket; in less than half an hour, though, I had eaten the lot.  The ponies behaved as well as my companions, and jumped the floes in great style.  After getting them on a new floe we simply left them, and there they stood chewing at each others’ head ropes or harness till we were over with the sledges and ready to take them on again.  Their implicit trust in us was touching to behold.  A 12-feet sledge makes an excellent bridge if an opening is too wide to jump.  After some hours we saw fast ice ahead, and thanked God for it.  Meanwhile a further unpleasantness occurred in the arrival of a host of the terrible ‘killer’ whales.  These were reaping a harvest of seal in the broken-up ice, and cruised among the floes with their immense black fins sticking up, and blowing with a terrific roar.  The Killer is scientifically known as the Orca, and, though far smaller than the sperm and other large whales, is a much more dangerous animal.  He is armed with a huge iron jaw and great blunt socket teeth.  Killers act in concert, too, and, as you may remember, nearly got Ponting when we were unloading the ship, by pressing up the thin ice from beneath and splitting it in all directions.