Vladivostock in a Japanese steamer which conveyed them to Kobe.  Here they transhipped into a German vessel that took then via Hong-kong, Manila, New Guinea, Rockhampton, and Brisbane, to Sydney.  There the animals were inoculated for the N’th time and a good deal of palaver indulged in before they were again shifted to the Lyttelton steamer.  The poor beasts suffered from the heat, particularly the dogs, although they had been close-clipped for the long and trying voyage.

At Wellington, New Zealand, Meares was compelled to trans-ship the animals to yet another steamer.  When the travelling circus was safely installed in Quail Island our dogs and ponies had undergone shipments, trans-shipments, inoculations and disinfectings sufficient to make them glad to leave civilisation, and we had to thank Meares for his patience in getting them down without any losses.

We sailed from Lyttelton on November 25 for Port Chalmers, had a tremendous send-off and a great deal of cheering as the ship moved slowly away from the piers.  Bands played us out of harbour and most of the ships flew farewell messages, which we did our best to answer.

Some members went down by train to Dunedin and joined us at Port Chalmers.  We filled up here with what coal we could squeeze into our already overloaded ship and left finally for the Great Unknown on November 29, 1910.

Lady Scott, Mrs. Wilson, and my own wife came out with us to the Heads and then went on board the “Plucky” tug after saying good-bye.  We were given a rousing send-off by the small craft that accompanied us a few miles on our way, but they turned homeward at last and at 3.30 p.m. we were clear with all good-byes said—­personally I had a heart like lead, but, with every one else on board, bent on doing my duty and following Captain Scott to the end.  There was work to be done, however, and the crew were glad of the orders that sent them from one rope to another and gave them the chance to hide their feelings, for there is an awful feeling of loneliness at this point in the lives of those who sign on the ships of the “South Pole trade”—­how glad we were to hide those feelings and make sail—­there were some dreadfully flat jokes made with the best of good intentions when we watched dear New Zealand fading away as the spring night gently obscured her from our view.

CHAPTER IV

THROUGH STORMY SEAS

After all it was a relief to get going at last and to have the Expedition on board in its entirety, but what a funny little colony of souls.  A floating farm-yard best describes the appearance of the upper deck, with the white pony heads peeping out of their stables, dogs chained to stanchions, rails, and ring-bolts, pet rabbits lolloping around the ready supply of compressed hay, and forage here, there, and everywhere.  If the “Terra Nova” was deeply laden from Cardiff, imagine what she looked like leaving New Zealand.  We had piled coal in sacks wherever it could be wedged in between the deck cargo of petrol.  Paraffin and oil drums filled up most of the hatch spaces, for the poop had been rendered uninhabitable by the great wooden cases containing two of our motor sledges.