culous
avoidance of loss of life. We turned out early yesterday, Oates,
Gran, and I, after the dismal night of our pony's death, and pulled
towards the forage depot [16] on ski. As we approached, the sky
looked black and lowering, and mirage effects of huge broken floes
loomed out ahead. At first I thought it one of the strange optical
illusions common in this region--but as we neared the depot all doubt
was dispelled. The sea was full of broken pieces of Barrier edge. My
thoughts flew to the ponies and dogs, and fearful anxieties assailed
my mind. We turned to follow the sea edge and suddenly discovered a
working crack. We dashed over this and slackened pace again after a
quarter of a mile. Then again cracks appeared ahead and we increased
pace as much as possible, not slackening again till we were in line
between the Safety Camp and Castle Rock. Meanwhile my first thought
was to warn Evans. We set up tent, and Gran went to the depot with
a note as Oates and I disconsolately thought out the situation. I
thought to myself that if either party had reached safety either on
the Barrier or at Hut Point they would immediately have sent a warning
messenger to Safety Camp. By this time the messenger should have been
with us. Some half-hour passed, and suddenly with a 'Thank God!' I
made certain that two specks in the direction of Pram Point were human
beings. I hastened towards them and found they were Wilson and Meares,
who had led the homeward way with the dog teams. They were astonished
to see me--they said they feared the ponies were adrift on the sea
ice--they had seen them with glasses from Observation Hill. They
thought I was with them. They had hastened out without breakfast:
we made them cocoa and discussed the gloomiest situation. Just
after cocoa Wilson discovered a figure making rapidly for the depot
from the west. Gran was sent off again to intercept. It proved to
be Crean--he was exhausted and a little incoherent. The ponies had
camped at 2.30 A.M. on the sea ice well beyond the seal crack on the
previous night. In the middle of the night...

_Friday, March_ 3, A.M.--I was interrupted when writing yesterday
and continue my story this morning.... In the middle of the night
at 4.30 Bowers got out of the tent and discovered the ice had broken
all round him: a crack ran under the picketing line, and one pony had
disappeared. They had packed with great haste and commenced jumping
the ponies from floe to floe, then dr