hut, because the former had to accommodate anemometers, barometers, thermometers, motors, bells, and a diversity of scientific instruments, but yet leave room to sleep amongst them without being electrocuted, while the latter had to arrange a small-sized dark room, 8 ft. by 6 ft. floor dimension, for all his developing of films and plates, for stowing photographic gear and cinematograph, and for everything in connection with his important and beautiful work as camera artist to the Expedition.  Ponting likewise slept where he worked, so a bed was also included in the dark room.

Before moving the chronometers ashore Pennell, Rennick, and I myself took astronomical observations to determine independently the position of the observation spot on the beach at Cape Evans.  The preliminary position gave us latitude 77 degrees 38 minutes 23 seconds S. longitude 166 degrees 33 minutes 24 seconds E., a more accurate determination was arrived at by running meridian distances from New Zealand and taking occultations during the ensuing winter, for longitude:  latitudes were obtained by the mean results of stars north and south and meridian altitudes of the sun above and below pole.

Before getting busy with the preliminaries for the big depot journey, I took stock of the fresh meat in the grotto.  The list of frozen flesh which I handed over to Clissold, the cook, looked luxurious enough, for it included nothing less than 700 lb. of beef, 100 sheep carcasses, 2 pheasants, 3 ox-tails, and 3 tongues, 10 lb. of sweetbread, 1 box of kidneys, 10 lb. of suet, 82 penguins, and 11 skua-gulls!  The cooks’ corner in the hut was very roomy, and, if my memory serves me aright, our cooking range was of similar pattern to one supplied to the Royal yacht, “Alexandra.”

On January 19 a snow road was made over to the ice foot on the south side of Cape Evans in order to save the ponies’ legs and hoofs.  The Siberian ponies were not shod, and this rough, volcanic rock would have shaken them considerably.

A great deal of the bay ice had broken away and drifted out of the Sound, so that by the 20th the ship was only a few hundred yards from Hurrah Beach.  This day Rennick, smiling from ear to ear, came across the ice with the pianola in bits conveyed on a couple of sledges.  He fixed it up with great cleverness at one end of the hut and it was quite wonderful to see how he stripped it on board, brought it through all sorts of spaces, transported it undamaged over ice and rocky beach, re-erected it, tuned it, and then played “Home, Sweet Home.”  What with the pianola going all out, the gramophone giving us Melba records, and the ship’s company’s gramophone squawking out Harry Lauder’s opposition numbers, Ponting cinematographing everything of interest and worthy of pictorial record, little Anton rushing round with nosebags for the ponies, Meares and Dimitri careering with the dog teams over ice, beach, packing cases, and what not, sailors with coloured tam-o’-shanters bobbing around in piratical style, the hot sun beating down and brightening up everything, one might easily have imagined this to be the circus scene, in the great Antarctic joy-ride film.  Everything ran on wheels in these days, and it was difficult to imagine that in three months there would be no sun, that this sweltering beach would be encrusted with ice, and that the cold, dark winter would be upon us.