how delighted Bowers must have been to see Crean eventually
high up on the Barrier in the distance, for it meant that he would
communicate with Captain Scott, whose intelligent, quick grasp, in
emergency would surely result in Gran being despatched on ski over to
Cape Evans, for he alone could do this. Once there, a boat could have
been launched and the floe party rescued. Bowers's satisfaction was
short-lived, however, since Killer whales were noticed cruising amongst
the loose ice, and these soon became numerous, some of them actually
inspecting the floe by poking their noses up and taking an almost
perpendicular position in the water, when their heads would be raised
right above the floe edge. The situation looked dangerous, for the whales
were evidently after the ponies. The wind fell light as the day
progressed and the swell decreased and vanished altogether. This
fortunately resulted in the floes closing near to the Barrier, and the
open water spaces decreased then to such a degree that the party were
able to bridge the cracks by using their sledges until they worked the
whole of their equipment up to the Barrier face, where Bowers and
Cherry-Garrard were rescued by Scott, Oates, Gran, and Crean. After a
further piece of manoeuvring a pony and all the sledges were recovered,
the three other ponies were drowned. Only those who have served in the
Antarctic can realise fully what Bowers's party and also Scott's own
rescue party went through.

The incident which terminated in the loss of three more of our ponies
cast a temporary gloom over the depot party when we reassembled in the
safety of the old ramshackle magnetic lean-to at Hut Point. I use the
word lean-to because one could hardly describe it as a hut, for the
building was with out insulation, snow filled the space between ceiling
and roof, and whenever a fire was kindled or heat generated, water
dripped down in steady pit-a-pat until there was no dry floor space worth
the name.

It might be interesting to touch on the experiences of our friend James
Pigg, for this pony can only be described as a quaint but friendly little
rogue. He and Keohane seemed to have their own jokes apart from us. We
were left to ourselves on the 27th February, while Scott, as stated,
pushed forward to Safety Camp, "we," meaning Atkinson, Forde, Keohane,
and myself. We were kept in camp on the 27th by a strong blizzard, and
the next day when the weather abated, during our forenoon ma