ourished amongst us.

After our leader had replied to this speech Sir Clements Markham, father
of modern British exploration, proposed the toast of the officers and
staff in the most touching terms. Poor Sir Clements is no more, but it
was he who first selected Captain Scott for Polar work, and he, indeed,
who was responsible for many others than those present at lunch joining
Antarctic expeditions, myself included.

CHAPTER II

VOYAGE OF THE "TERRA NOVA"

Sailing day came at last, and on June 1, 1910, when I proudly showed
Scott his ship, he very kindly ordered the hands aft and thanked them for
what they had done.

The yards were square, the hatches on with spick-and-span white hatch
covers, a broad white ribbon brightened the black side, and gold leaf
bedizened the quarter badges besides gilding the rope scroll on the
stern. The ship had been well painted up, a neat harbour furl put on the
sails, and if the steamers and lofty sailing vessels in the basin could
have spoken, their message would surely have been, "Well done, little
'un."

What a change from the smudgy little lamp-black craft of last
November--so much for paint and polish. All the same it was the "Terra
Nova's" Indian summer. A close search by the technically expert would
have revealed scars of age in the little lady, furrows worn in her sides
by grinding ice floes, patches in the sails, strengthening pieces in the
cross-trees and sad-looking deadeyes and lanyards which plainly told of a
bygone age.

But the merchant seamen who watched from the dock side were kind and said
nothing. The old admirals who had come down to visit the ship were used
to these things, or perhaps they did not twig it. After all, what did it
matter, it was sailing day, we were all as proud as peacocks of our
little ship, and from that day forward we pulled together and played the
game, or tried to.

Lady Bridgeman, wife of the first Sea Lord, and Lady Markham hoisted the
White Ensign and the Burgee of the Royal Yacht Squadron an hour or so
before sailing. At 4.45 p.m. the visitors were warned off the ship, and a
quarter of an hour later we slipped from our wharf in the South-West
India Docks and proceeded into the river and thence to Greenhithe, where
we anchored off my old training ship, the "Worcester," and gave the
cadets a chance to look over the ship. On the 3rd June we arrived at
Spithead, where we were boarded by Captain Chetwynd, Superintendent of
Comp