sea, swept by intermittent blizzards and shrouded now in midnight
darkness. We still fostered the hope that the vessel's coal-supply would
be sufficient for her to return to Adelie Land and make an attempt to
pick us up. But it was not to be.

The long Antarctic winter was fast approaching and we turned to meet it
with resolution, knowing that if the 'Aurora' failed us in early March,
that the early summer of the same year would bring relief.

CHAPTER XIV THE QUEST OF THE SOUTH MAGNETIC POLE

Dr. R. BAGE

Send me your strongest, those who never fail.
I'm the Blizzard, King of the Southern Trail!
Sledging song.

On the afternoon of November 10, at Aladdin's Cave, after a convivial
hoosh, Webb, Hurley and I said good-bye to Dr. Mawson's party and
made off south for the eleven and three-quarter mile cave where our
Supporting Party, Murphy, Hunter and Laseron, were waiting for us. At
7 P.M. we started almost at a run over the smooth ice, to the
accompaniment of hearty cheers from Dr. Mawson, Ninnis, and Mertz; two
of whom we were never to see again.

Half a mile of this easy going, and we were on snow for the first time
with a loaded sledge. Uphill snow, too, and the wind rising, so it was
no small relief when we finally made the Cathedral Grotto at 11.30 P.M.,
and found Murphy's tent pitched alongside it. The wind by this time
was about forty-five miles per hour and, it being nearly dusk, the
crevasses--a five-mile belt--had been fairly difficult to negotiate.

We soon had the cave clear of snow, had a good meal and then slept
the sleep of the just, feeling well content with the first day's
work--eleven and a half miles from home at an altitude of one thousand
nine hundred feet. We were off at last on a search for the Magnetic
Pole.

On the morrow some time was spent in rearranging the loads. Finally,
both parties moved off south into heavy wind and fairly thick drift.
What with the ground rising steadily, the pressure of the wind and our
lack of condition, two and a quarter hours of solid work realized only
two and a quarter miles; so we decided to camp.

All the night it blew hard, between seventy and eighty miles per hour,
and next day it was still blowing and drifting heavily. Our tent was
a good deal smaller than Murphy's, and, as Webb and Hurley are
both six-footers, we always had to put all gear outside when the
sleeping-bags were down. This is really a