Gran was too generous to finish it himself, and too wise to divide it with many—a pint was for two and no more.
It so happened that whilst we two were working around Glacier Tongue this spring doing survey work we had to come in to Cape Evans for some purpose. We had a hard run out on ski to our camp, and my short legs found great effort necessary to keep pace with the swarthy ski-runner. Once arrived at the survey camp I puffed and blew and sank nearly exhausted on my sleeping-bag in the tent. I told Gran we must have some tea before re-commencing work, and reached out to get the cooker ready. Gran asked me what I fancied most in the world, and my reply was—a pint of champagne.
He laughed and asked me what I would give him for that same, to which I articulated, "FIVE POUNDS," and sank my tired head between my knees. Noiselessly the Norwegian glided from the tent to reappear with the stolen champagne bottle. I smiled delightedly, and soon we were hard at work cooking the champagne into its liquid state once more, for it was of course hard frozen in the low temperature.
When we got the stuff melted it had lost its "fizz," but it tasted nectar-like even from our aluminium sledge mugs, and such was the stimulus from it that we worked until darkness had set in. I have never paid the five pounds, for the reason that Gran chose a dinner party at the Grand Hotel, Christiania instead: from a financial point of view I should have gained by paying—but that is another story and has no connection with the Frozen South.
On October 13 we finished the coast survey in McMurdo Sound: generally the weather was wretched, but this notwithstanding we got along fairly well with our work. Once back in the Hut there was plenty to be done preparing for the Southern Journey.
My particular work consisted of rating chronometers, sewing, packing, stowing, making sundials, calibrating instruments, and preparing little charts which could be rolled up on a bamboo stick and carried in the instrument boxes of the sledges.
Poor Clissold, our cook, fell off an iceberg while posing for Ponting, and was on account of his severe shaking unable to accompany the Motor party for which Scott had detailed him.
After dinner on October 17 Day started his motors, and amidst a perfect furore of excitement he got one motor sledge down on to the sea ice. At the ice foot, alas, one of the rear axle cases fractured badly and the car was out of action 30 yards from the garage. The other car wouldn't start.
From the 18th until the 24th October, Day and Lashly were at work repairing the disabled car, and they made an excellent job of it, so that there was no delay in the starting date for the pioneer party with the motors.
We got all news by telephone from Hut Point with reference to the state of the surface on the Great Ice Barrier, as Meares and Dimitri returned on October 15 from a flying journey to Corner Camp and back with depot stores. Meares's dogs on this trip covered the seventy statute miles, out and home, in thirty-six hours, including their resting time.