We must now follow Captain Scott's and Bowers's party, who, in conjunction, engaged on the problem of getting five ponies and two dog teams to Hut Point. There did not seem to be anything in doing this, but if ever a man's footsteps were dogged by misfortune, they surely were our leader's.
Scott sent Cherry-Garrard and Crean with Bowers and four ponies across the sea ice from the Barrier edge to reach Hut Point on March 1. He himself had remained with Oates and Gran to tend the pony Weary Willie, a gutless creature compared to the others, which was showing signs of failing. Weary Willie died for no apparent reason, unless his loss of condition was due to the blizzards we encountered on the depot journey.
Bowers and Co. made a good start, but the ponies they had were undoubtedly tired and listless after their hard journey, they were also in bad condition and frequently had to be rested. When they had advanced some way towards Hut Point over good strong sea ice, cracks became apparent and a slight swell showed Bowers that the sea ice was actually on the move. Directly this was appreciated his party turned and hastened back, but the ice was drifting out to sea. The ponies behaved splendidly, jumping the ever widening cracks with extraordinary sagacity, whilst Bowers and his two companions launched the sledges over the water spaces in order not to risk the ponies' legs. Eventually they reached what looked like a safe place and, since men and ponies were thoroughly exhausted, camp was pitched and the weary party soon fell asleep, but at 4.30 the next morning Bowers awoke hearing a strange noise. He opened the tent and found the party in a dreadful plight—the ice had again commenced to break up and they were surrounded by water. One of the ponies had disappeared into the sea. Camp was again struck and for five hours this plucky little party fought their way over three-quarters of a mile of drifting ice. They never for an instant thought of abandoning their charge, realising that Scott's Polar plans would in all probability be ruined if four more ponies were lost with their sledges and equipment. Crean, with great gallantry, went for support, clambering with difficulty over the ice. He jumped from floe to floe and at last climbed up the face of the Barrier from a piece of ice which swung round in the tideway and just touched the ice cliff at the right moment. Cherry-Garrard stayed with Bowers at his request, for this undaunted little seaman would never give up his charge while a gleam of hope remained.
For a whole day these two were afloat on a floe about 150 ft. square, all the ice around was broken up into similar floes, which were rising and falling at least a foot to the heavy swell. A moderate breeze was blowing from the eastward, and nothing was visible above the haze and frost smoke except the tops of two islands named White and Black Islands, and the hills around Hut Point. Whilst Crean was clambering over bits of ice and jumping by means of connecting pieces from one big floe to another, his progress was watched by Bowers through the telescope of a theodolite. One can gather 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 march James Pigg fell into a crevasse, quite a small one, and his girth, through so much high feeding, jammed him by his stomach and prevented him falling far down. The whole situation was ridiculous. We parbuckled him out by means of the Alpine rope, which was quickly detached from the sledge, James Pigg taking a lively interest in the proceedings, and finally rolling over on his back and kicking himself to his feet as we four dragged him up to the surface. This done, Keohane looking very Irish and smiling, bent over and peered down into the bluey depths of the crevasse and, to our intense amusement, James Pigg strolled over alongside of him and hung his head down too. He then turned to Keohane, who patted his nose and said, "That was a near shave for you, James Pigg!"
We got to Safety Camp on the evening of March 1 and found two notes from Captain Scott directing us to make for Hut Point via Castle Rock, and notifying us that the sea ice was all on the move. We had an interesting climb next day, but a very difficult one, for we were on the go from 9 a.m. until after 11 that night. First we found our way over the Barrier Ice to the foot of the slope leading up to the ice ridge northward of Castle Rock. Here we tethered James Pigg and spent some hours getting our gear and sledges up the slope. We had no crampons for this work as they were all on Scott's own sledge, so that it was necessary at times to pull up the slopes on hands and knees, assisted by our ski sticks, an unusual procedure but the only one possible to employ on the steeper blue ice. We took the sledges up one by one and then went down with an Alpine rope to help James Pigg. We found the pony very bored at our long absence; he neighed and whinnied when we came down to him, and, to our great surprise, went up the long, steep slope with far greater ease than we did ourselves.
It was out of the question for us to proceed the four and a half miles along the ridges which led down to Hut Point, for darkness had set in and we had no wish to repeat the performance of an earlier expedition when a man lost his life hereabouts through slipping right over one of these steep slopes into the sea on the western side of the promontory ridge which terminates at Hut Point.
It was snowing when we turned in and still snowing on March 3 when we turned out of our sleeping-bags. James Pigg, quite snug, clothed in his own, Blossom's, and Blücher's rugs, had a little horseshoe shelter built up round him. We did not know at this time of the pony disaster, but, thinking Captain Scott might be anxious if he got no word as to our whereabouts or movements, Atkinson and I started to march along the ice ridges of Castle Rock and make our way to Hut Point. It was blowing hard and very cold, but the joy of walking on firm ice without a sledge to drag was great. When finally we came to the old "Discovery" hut at lunch time, we found Wilson, Meares, and Gran in very low spirits. They told us that Bowers and Cherry-Garrard were adrift on an ice floe and the remainder of the party had gone to the rescue along the Barrier edge. We were much downcast by this news, and after a meal of biscuit and tea, started back for our camp. The weather was now clearer, and we could see some way out over the Barrier; we could also see the sea looking very blue against the white expanse of ice.
On the way back we discussed a plan and arranged that we should leave Keohane with the pony, take a sledge, and make our way along the ice edge of the Barrier searching for Scott and joining up with him, but just before descending to the hollow where our tent was we spied a sledge party on the Barrier and, on reaching our camp, were delighted to see through my telescope six men. Thank God! This meant that all were safe. We went out to meet the party, reaching them about 8 p.m. where they had camped, a couple of miles from Cape Armitage, between two pressure ridges that formed great frozen waves. Bowers told me that when Scott's party attempted to save the horses at the Barrier edge, rotten ice and open water leads were the cause of their downfall, and when the horses slipped into the sea, that he had been compelled to kill his own pony with a pickaxe to save him being taken alive by one of the Orcas or Killer whales. The only horse saved was Captain Scott's, one of the best we had in that Expedition.