rs this
morning over a slightly better surface covered with high moundy sastrugi.
Sledge capsized twice; we pulled on foot, covering about 51/2 miles. We are
two pony marches and 4 miles about from our depot. Our fuel dreadfully
low and the poor Soldier nearly done. It is pathetic enough because we
can do nothing for him; more hot food might do a little, but only a
little, I fear. We none of us expected these terribly low temperatures,
and of the rest of us, Wilson is feeling them most; mainly, I fear, from
his self-sacrificing devotion in doctoring Oates' feet. We cannot help
each other, each has enough to do to take care of himself. We get cold on
the march when the trudging is heavy, and the wind pierces our worn
garments. The others, all of them, are unendingly cheerful when in the
tent. We mean to see the game through with a proper spirit, but it's
tough work to be pulling harder than we ever pulled in our lives for long
hours, and to feel that the progress is so slow. One can only say 'God
help us!' and plod on our weary way, cold and very miserable, though
outwardly cheerful. We talk of all sorts of subjects in the tent, not
much of food now, since we decided to take the risk of running a full
ration. We simply couldn't go hungry at this time."

"_Tuesday, March 6. Lunch._ We did a little better with help of wind
yesterday afternoon, finishing 91/2 miles for the day, and 27 miles from
depot. But this morning things have been awful. It was warm in the night
and for the first time during the journey I overslept myself by more than
an hour; then we were slow with foot-gear; then, pulling with all our
might (for our lives) we could scarcely advance at rate of a mile an
hour; then it grew thick and three times we had to get out of harness to
search for tracks. The result is something less than 31/2 miles for the
forenoon. The sun is shining now and the wind gone. Poor Oates is unable
to pull, sits on the sledge when we are track-searching--he is
wonderfully plucky, as his feet must be giving him great pain. He makes
no complaint, but his spirits only come up in spurts now, and he grows
more silent in the tent. We are making a spirit lamp to try and replace
the primus when our oil is exhausted..."

"_Wednesday, March 7._ A little worse, I fear. One of Oates' feet _very_
bad this morning; he is wonderfully brave. We still talk of what we will
do together at home.

"We only made 61/2 miles yesterday. This morning in 41