ry, or decanting a mass of clothing, just issued, into
the bottom of his bunk, to be slept on since there was no room for it on
the deck of his cabin. On the main deck Bowers is trying to get one more
frozen sheep into the ice-house, in the rigging working parties are
overhauling the running gear. The engine-room staff are busy on the
engine, and though the ship is crowded there is order everywhere, and it
is clean.

But the scene on the morning of Saturday, November 26, baffles
description. There is no deck visible: in addition to 30 tons of coal in
sacks on deck there are 21/2 tons of petrol, stowed in drums which in turn
are cased in wood. On the top of sacks and cases, and on the roof of the
ice-house are thirty-three dogs, chained far enough apart to keep them
from following their first instinct--to fight the nearest animal they can
see: the ship is a hubbub of howls. In the forecastle and in the four
stalls on deck are the nineteen ponies, wedged tightly in their wooden
stalls, and dwarfing everything are the three motor sledges in their huge
crates, 16' x 5' x 4', two of them on either side of the main hatch, the
third across the break of the poop. They are covered with tarpaulins and
secured in every possible way, but it is clear that in a big sea their
weight will throw a great strain upon the deck. It is not altogether a
cheerful sight. But all that care and skill can do has been done to
ensure that the deck cargo will not shift, and that the animals may be as
sheltered as possible from wind and seas. And it's no good worrying about
what can't be helped.

FOOTNOTES:

[36] Vide _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. ii. pp. 454-456.

[37] "Atmospheric Electricity over Ocean," by G. C. Simpson and
C. S. Wright, _Pro. Roy. Soc._ A, vol. 85, 1911.

[38] _See_ B.A.E., 1910, Nat. Hist. Report, vol. i. No. 3, p. 117.

[39] Ibid. p. 111.

CHAPTER III

SOUTHWARD

Open the bones, and you shall nothing find
In the best face but filth; when, Lord, in Thee
The beauty lies in the discovery.
GEORGE HERBERT.

Telegrams from all parts of the world, special trains, all ships dressed,
crowds and waving hands, steamers out to the Heads and a general
hullabaloo--these were the incidents of Saturday, November 26, 1910, when
we slipped from the wharf at Lyttelton at 3 P.M. We were to call at
Dunedin before leaving civilization, and arrived