Crean had one of the ski sticks and that “was a great help to me for getting over the floes.  It was a sloping piece like what you were on and it was very near touching the Barrier, in one corner of it only.  Well, I dug a hole with the ski stick in the side of the Barrier for a step for one foot, and when I finished the hole I straddled my legs and got one on the floe and one in the side of the Barrier.  Then I got the stick and dug it in on top and I gave myself a bit of a spring and got my outside leg up top.  It was a terrible place but I thought it was the only chance.

“I made straight for Safety Camp and they must have spotted me:  for I think it was Gran that met me on skis.  Then Scott and Wilson and Oates met me a long way out:  I explained how it happened.  He was worried-looking a bit, but he never said anything out of the way.  He told Oates to go inside and light the primus and give me a meal.”

A more detailed account of the behaviour of the hundreds of whales which infested the lanes of open water between the broken floes and calved bergs is of interest.  Most of them at any rate were Killer whales (Orca gladiator), and they were cruising about in great numbers, snorting and blowing, while occasionally they would in some extraordinary way raise themselves and look about over the ice, resting the fore part of their enormous yellow and black bodies on the edge of the floes.  They were undisguisedly interested in us and the ponies, and we felt that if we once got into the water our ends would be swift and bloody.

But I have a very distinct recollection that the whales were not all Killers, and that some, at any rate, were Bottle-nosed whales.  This was impressed upon me by one of the most dramatic moments of that night and day.

We made our way very slowly, sometimes waiting twenty minutes for the floe on which we were to touch the next one in the direction we were trying to go, but before us in the distance was a region of sea-ice which appeared to slope gradually up on to the fast Barrier beyond.  As we got nearer we saw a dark line appear at intervals between the two.  This we considered was a crevasse at the edge of the Barrier which was opening and shutting with the very big swell which was running, and on which all the floes were bobbing up and down.  We told one another that we could rush the ponies over this as it closed.

We approached the Barrier and began to rise up on the sloping floes which had edged the Barrier and so on to small bergs which had calved from the Barrier itself.  Leaving Crean with the ponies, Bowers and I went forward to prospect, and rose on to a berg from which we hoped to reach the Barrier.

I can never forget the scene that met us.  Between us and the Barrier was a lane of some fifty yards wide, a seething cauldron.  Bergs were calving off as we watched:  and capsizing:  and hitting other bergs, splitting into two and falling apart.  The Killers filled the whole place.  Looking downwards into a hole between our berg and the next, a hole not bigger than a small room, we saw at least six whales.  They were so crowded that they could only lie so as to get their snouts out of the water, and my memory is that their snouts were bottle-nosed.  At this moment our berg split into two parts and we hastily retreated to the lower and safer floes.