[Illustration:  A SUMMER VIEW OVER CAPE EVANS AND MCMURDO SOUND FROM THE RAMP—­Emery Walker Limited, Collotypers.]

Arrived on the top you will now be facing south, that is in the opposite direction to which you were facing before.  The first thing that will strike you is that the sea, now frozen in the bays though still unfrozen in the open sound, flows in nearly to your feet.  The second, that though the sea stretches back for nearly twenty miles, yet the horizon shows land or ice in every direction.  For a ship this is a cul-de-sac, as Ross found seventy years ago.  But as soon as you have grasped these two facts your whole attention will be riveted to the amazing sight on your left.  Here are the southern slopes of Erebus; but how different from those which you have lately seen.  Northwards they fell in broad calm lines to a beautiful stately cliff which edged the sea.  But here—­all the epithets and all the adjectives which denote chaotic immensity could not adequately tell of them.  Visualize a torrent ten miles long and twenty miles broad; imagine it falling over mountainous rocks and tumbling over itself in giant waves; imagine it arrested in the twinkling of an eye, frozen and white.  Countless blizzards have swept their drifts over it, but have failed to hide it.  And it continues to move.  As you stand in the still cold air you may sometimes hear the silence broken by the sharp reports as the cold contracts it or its own weight splits it.  Nature is tearing up that ice as human beings tear paper.

The sea-cliff is not so high here, and is more broken up by crevasses and caves, and more covered with snow.  Some five miles along the coast the white line is broken by a bluff and black outcrop of rock; this is Turk’s Head, and beyond it is the low white line of Glacier Tongue, jutting out for miles into the sea.  We know, for we have already crossed it, that there is a small frozen bay of sea-ice beyond, but all we can see from Cape Evans is the base of the Hut Point Peninsula, with a rock outcrop just showing where the Hutton Cliffs lie.  The Peninsula prevents us from seeing the Barrier, though the Barrier wind is constantly flowing over it, as the clouds of drift now smoking over the Cliffs bear witness.  Farther to the right still, the land is clear:  Castle Rock stands up like a sentinel, and beyond are Arrival Heights and the old craters we have got to know so well during our stay at Hut Point.  The Discovery hut, which would, in any case, be invisible at fifteen miles, is round that steep rocky corner which ends the Peninsula, due south from where we stand.