fog. On this occasion we were spared many of the
most ordinary dangers. It was summer. Our voyage was an easy one. There
was twilight most of the night: there were plenty of men on board, and
heaps of coal. Imagine then what kind of time Pennell and his ship's
company had in late autumn, after remaining in the south until only a
bare ration of coal was left for steaming, until the sea was freezing
round them and the propeller brought up dead as they tried to force
their way through it. Pennell was a very sober person in his statements,
yet he described the gale through which the Terra Nova passed on her way
to New Zealand in March 1912 as seeming to blow the ship from the top of
one wave to the top of the next; and the nights were dark, and the bergs
were all round them. They never tried to lay a meal in those days, they
just ate what they could hold in their hands. He confessed to me that one
hour he did begin to wonder what was going to happen next: others told me
that he seemed to enjoy every minute of it all.

Owing to press contracts and the necessity of preventing leakage of news
the Terra Nova had to remain at sea for twenty-four hours after a cable
had been sent to England. Also it was of the first importance that the
relatives should be informed of the facts before the newspapers published
them.

And so at 2.30 A.M. on February 10 we crept like a phantom ship into the
little harbour of Oamaru on the east coast of New Zealand. With what
mixed feelings we smelt the old familiar woods and grassy slopes, and saw
the shadowy outlines of human homes. With untiring persistence the little
lighthouse blinked out the message, "What ship's that?" "What ship's
that?" They were obviously puzzled and disturbed at getting no answer. A
boat was lowered and Pennell and Atkinson were rowed ashore and landed.
The seamen had strict orders to answer no questions. After a little the
boat returned, and Crean announced: "We was chased, sorr, but they got
nothing out of us."

We put out to sea.

When morning broke we could see the land in the distance--greenness,
trees, every now and then a cottage. We began to feel impatient. We
unpacked the shore-going clothes with their creases three years old which
had been sent out from home, tried them on--and they felt unpleasantly
tight. We put on our boots, and they were positively agony. We shaved off
our beards! There was a hiatus. There was nothing to do but sail up and
down the coast