CHAPTER XIII

THE BARRIER STAGE

Depots were made every 65 miles:  they were marked by big black flags flying from bamboos, and we saw one of them, Mount Hooper, nine miles away.  Each depot contained one week’s rations for every returning unit.

That outward Barrier march will long be remembered, it was so full of life, health, and hope—­our only sad days came when the ponies were killed, one by one.  But hunger soon defeated sentiment, and we grew to relish our pony-meat cooked in the pemmican “hoosh.”

On November 24 Oates slew poor old “Jehu” by a pistol shot in Latitude 81 degrees 15 minutes—­this being the first pony to go.  The dogs had a fine feed from the poor animal’s carcass, and Meares was very glad, likewise Dimitri.

Incidentally, the dogs were not the only ones who feasted on “Jehu’s” flesh.  Pony-meat cooks very well, and it was a rare delicacy to us, the man-haulers.

As will be gathered, Scott proposed to kill pony after pony as a readjustment to full load became possible with the food and fodder consumption.  The travelling now was a vastly different matter to the work of the autumn.  The weather was fine and the going easy.  Every day made sledging more pleasant, for the ponies had got into their swing, and the sun’s rays shed appreciable warmth.  Although we spoke of day and night still, it must be remembered that there was really no longer night, for the sun merely travelled round our heavens throughout the twenty-four hours.  Its altitude at midnight would be about 12 or 13 degrees, whilst at noon it would have risen to 28 or 29.

Some of the days of travel were without incident almost, the men leading their ponies in monotonous file across the great white waste.  The ponies gave little trouble; Meares’s dogs, with more dash, contained their drivers’ attention always.

Day and Hooper turned back in Latitude 81 degrees 15 minutes at “Jehu’s” grave, and Atkinson, his erstwhile leader, joined the man-haulers.  The two who now made their way homeward found considerable difficulty in hauling the sledge, so they bisected it and packed all their gear on a half sledge.  They were accompanied by two invalid dogs, Cigane and Stareek, and their adventures homeward bound were more amusing than dangerous—­the dogs were rogues and did their best to rob the sledge during the sleeping hours.  In due course Day and Hooper reached Cape Evans none the worse for their Barrier trudge.

Wright’s pony, Chinaman, was shot on November 28, and the Canadian joined the man-haulers.  We were glad of his company and his extra weight.

On November 29 we passed Scott’s farthest South, (82 degrees 17 minutes), and near this date had light snow and thick weather.

On November 30 we had a very hard pull, the Barrier surface being covered with prismatic crystals—­without any glide we felt we might as well be hauling the sledges over ground glass, but diversion in the shape of Land-oh:  I think I sighted Mount Hope refracted up, and pointed it out to Captain Scott.