of us.

It was hopeless weather for travelling. In the afternoon a snow cave was
dug, seven feet deep and enlarged to seven feet square at the bottom.
The whole was covered with mast, yard and sail. It was very snug from
the outward aspect, but we soon found that there were two objections to
the "Sarcophagus," as it was named. There was very little light except a
ghastly blue half-tone filtering through the snow, and the place was not
over warm, surrounded by walls at a much lower temperature than that of
the surface.

Webb commenced a declination "quick-run," consisting of half-hourly
observations of the direction in which the compass was pointing. In
ordinary latitudes, during the day, the compass needle moves over a
few minutes of arc, but here, being so close to the Magnetic Pole, its
movement is greatly magnified, the range being about 5 degrees on
this occasion. Webb carried on readings till midnight, and at 4 A.M.,
December 9, I turned out, being relieved at 8 A.M. by Hurley, who
carried on until the twenty-four hours were completed. This observation
should be especially valuable when it is compared with continuous
magnetic records obtained at the same time at Winter Quarters and by the
Scott expedition at McMurdo Sound.

It was not till 1.30 P.M. on December 10 that the sixty-mile wind had
subsided sufficiently for us to get away. Every yard of our quota of
seven miles was hard going. A fine example of a typical old sastruga was
passed on the way. In order to secure a photograph of it, Hurley had
to waste eighteen films before he could persuade one to pull into place
correctly. The film-packs had been carefully kept in an airtight tin,
but the cold was too much for them. The tags which should pull each film
round from the back to the front of the pack usually tore away with a
small piece of film. In fact, out of one hundred and twenty films only
forty-five exposures were made.

On the 11th a good deal of "piecrust" cut down the day's march to eight
and a half miles. Sledge runners are usually supported by this surface,
but one's feet break through in a most annoying and tiring manner. The
drift eased off for a few hours and we managed to dry some of our gear.
At the Sarcophagus, things which had all been wet enough before became
saturated with drift which turned to ice. Felt mitts are perhaps the
worst in this respect, and it is no exaggeration to say that you could
easily brain a man with one after it had b