Covering a couple of miles we found, to our great relief, that the fast ice not only extended up to the Cape but right round into North Bay.  We soon sighted the hut, and shortly after saw some people working outside.  Directly they saw us in they ran to bring the others out at full speed, and coming to meet us they cheered and greeted us, then hauled our sledges in.  It appeared they were unable to recognise any of us owing to our dirty and dishevelled state.  This was not to be wondered at, for we had not washed nor had we shaved for eighty days:  We all talked hard and exchanged news.  Ponting lined us up to be photographed—­the first nine Bolshevists—­we looked such awful blackguards.

Now, April 13, 1911, as communication had been established between Hut Point and Cape Evans, we settled down for the winter.  I shall never forget the breakfast that Clissold prepared for us at 10.30 that morning.  It was delicious—­hot rolls, heaps of butter, milk, sugar, jam, a fine plate of tomato soup, and fried seal cooked superbly.  The meal over, we shaved, bathed, and put on clean clothes, smoked cigarettes, and took a day’s holiday.  At 10 o’clock that evening, by prearrangement, Very’s lights were fired to let them know at Hut Point of our safe arrival.  Our own signal was answered by a flare.  Gramophone records were dug out and we lazily listened to Melba singing and to musical comedy tunes, those who had energy and sufficient inclination got the pianola going, and finally each man unfolded his little story to another member of the Expedition who had taken no part in the sledging.

Captain Scott was delighted at the progress made by those left in our hut under Dr. Simpson, everything was in order, the scientific programme in full swing, and nothing in the shape of bad news beyond the loss of an ill-tempered pony called Hackenschmidt, and one more dog that appeared to have died from a peculiar disease—­a minute thread-worm getting to his brain, this according to Nelson who had conducted the post-mortem.

CHAPTER VII

ARRANGEMENTS FOR THE WINTER

Less than a fortnight from the day of our return to Cape Evans, on April 23 to be exact, the sun left us to remain below the horizon for four long weary months.  Of course, there was a considerable amount of twilight, and even on midwinter’s day at noon there was some gray light in the north.  Different people took the winter in different fashion, according to their temperaments.  There were some who never could have faced a second winter with any degree of cheerfulness, but taking it all round, we did well enough, and when summer came again our concrete keenness and zeal had not one whit abated.  That is especially true in the case of those who were chosen to make the great journey southward, even though it was obvious that certain members could only accompany their leader for a mere fraction of the great white way.