A little Cerebos salt had been saved, and this was issued out at the rate of three-quarters of an ounce per man per week.  Some of the packets containing the salt had broken, so that all did not get the full ration.  On the other hand, one man dropped his week’s ration on the floor of the hut, amongst the stones and dirt.  It was quickly collected, and he found to his delight that he had enough now to last him for three weeks.  Of course it was not all salt.  The hot drink consisted at first of milk made from milk-powder up to about one-quarter of its proper strength.  This was later on diluted still more, and sometimes replaced by a drink made from a pea-soup-like packing from the Bovril sledging rations.  For midwinter’s day celebrations, a mixture of one teaspoonful of methylated spirit in a pint of hot water, flavoured with a little ginger and sugar, served to remind some of cock-tails and Veuve Cliquot.

At breakfast each had a piece of seal or half a penguin breast.  Luncheon consisted of one biscuit on three days a week, nut-food on Thursdays, bits of blubber, from which most of the oil had been extracted for the lamps, on two days a week, and nothing on the remaining day.  On this day breakfast consisted of a half-strength sledging ration.  Supper was almost invariably seal and penguin, cut up very finely and fried with a little seal blubber.

There were occasionally very welcome variations from this menu.  Some paddies—­a little white bird not unlike a pigeon—­were snared with a loop of string, and fried, with one water-sodden biscuit, for lunch.  Enough barley and peas for one meal all round of each had been saved, and when this was issued it was a day of great celebration.  Sometimes, by general consent, the luncheon biscuit would be saved, and, with the next serving of biscuit, was crushed in a canvas bag into a powder and boiled, with a little sugar, making a very satisfying pudding.  When blubber was fairly plentiful there was always a saucepan of cold water, made from melting down the pieces of ice which had broken off from the glacier, fallen into the sea, and been washed ashore, for them to quench their thirst in.  As the experience of Arctic explorers tended to show that sea-water produced a form of dysentery, Wild was rather diffident about using it.  Penguin carcasses boiled in one part of sea-water to four of fresh were a great success, though, and no ill-effects were felt by anybody.

The ringed penguins migrated north the day after we landed at Cape Wild, and though every effort was made to secure as large a stock of meat and blubber as possible, by the end of the month the supply was so low that only one hot meal a day could be served.  Twice the usual number of penguin steaks were cooked at breakfast, and the ones intended for supper were kept hot in the pots by wrapping up in coats, etc.  “Clark put our saucepanful in his sleeping-bag to-day to keep it hot, and it really was a great success in spite of the extra helping of reindeer hairs that it contained.  In this way we can make ten penguin skins do for one day.”