nd was still open water, owing to the
winds which swept the ice out to sea almost as soon as it was formed.

On the top of all the anxieties which had oppressed him lately Scott had
a great fear that a swell so phenomenal as to break up Glacier Tongue, a
landmark which had probably been there for centuries, might have swept
away our hut at Cape Evans. He was so alarmed about it that he told
Wilson and myself to prepare to form a sledging party with him to
penetrate the Erebus icefalls and reach Cape Evans. "Went yesterday to
Castle Rock with Wilson to see what chance there might be of getting to
Cape Evans. The day was bright and it was quite warm walking in the sun.
There is no doubt the route to Cape Evans lies over the worst corner of
Erebus. From this distance (some 7 or 8 miles at least) the whole
mountain side looks a mass of crevasses, but a route might be found at a
level of 3000 or 4000 feet."[127] After some days the project was
abandoned as being hopeless.

On March 8 Bowers led a party to bring in the gear and provisions which
had been left at Disaster Camp, the material, that is, which had been
rescued from the sea-ice. They were away three days and found the pulling
very hard. "At the corner of the bay the Barrier was buckled into round
ridges which took a couple of hours to cross. We marched for some time
alongside an enormous crevasse, which lay like a street near us. I
examined it at one point which must have been 15 feet wide, and though it
was impossible to see the bottom for snow cornices it was undoubtedly
open as I could hear a seal blowing below."[128]

Bowers' letter describes them dragging their heavy load up the slope to
Castle Rock: "It took us all the morning to reach Saddle Camp with the
loads in two journeys. I found a steady plod up a steep hill without
spells is better and less exhausting than a rush and a number of rests.
This theory I put into practice with great success. I don't know whether
everybody saw eye to eye with me over the idea of getting to the top
without a spell. After the second sledge was up Atkinson said: 'I don't
mind you as a rule, but there are times when I positively hate you.'"

Defoe could have written another Robinson Crusoe with Hut Point instead
of San Juan Fernandez. Our sledging supplies were mostly exhausted and we
depended upon the seals we could kill for food, fuel and light. We were
smutty as sweeps from the blubber we burned; and a more
blackguard-loo