Meantime we lunched, and afterwards struck a bad patch of surface which caused us frequent stops. We reached Hut Point at 8 p.m. after stopping the motors near Cape Armitage, and spent the night in the Hut there, camping with Scott's party, Meares and Dimitri.
The motor engines were certainly good in moderate temperatures, but our slow advance was due to the chains slipping on hard ice. Scott was concerned, but he made it quite clear that if we got our loads clear of the Strait between White Island and Ross Isle, he would be more than satisfied.
Meares and Bowers cooked a fine seal fry for us all, and we spent a happy evening at Hut Point. The Hut, thanks to Meares and Dimitri, was now, for these latitudes, a regular Mayfair dwelling. The blubber stove was now a bricked-in furnace, with substantial chimney, and hot plates, with cooking space sufficient for our needs, however many, were being accommodated.
On October 27 I woke the cooks at 6.30 a.m., and we breakfasted about 8 o'clock, then went up to the motors off Cape Armitage. Lashly's car got away and did about three miles with practically no stop. Our carburettor continually got cold, and we stopped a good deal. Eventually about 1 p.m. we passed Lashly's car and made our way up a gentle slope on to the Barrier, waved to the party, and went on about three-quarters of a mile.
Here we waited for Lashly and Hooper, who came up at 2.30, having had much trouble with their engine, due to overheating, we thought. When Day's car glided from the sea ice, over the tide crack and on to the Great Ice Barrier itself, Scott and his party cheered wildly, and Day acknowledged their applause with a boyish smile of triumph. As soon as Lashly got on to the Barrier, Scott took his party away and they returned to Cape Evans. It would have been a disappointment to them if they had known that we shortly afterwards heard an ominous rattle, which turned out to be the big end brass of one of the connecting rods churning up—due to a bad casting.
Luckily we had a spare, which Day and Lashly fitted, while Hooper and I went on with the 10 ft. sledge to Safety Camp.
Here we dug out our provisions according to instructions and brought them back to our camp to avoid further delay in repacking sledges. We then made Day and Lashly some tea to warm them up. They worked nobly and had the car ready by 11 p.m. We pushed on till midnight in our anxiety to acquit ourselves and our motors creditably. The thermometer showed -19.8 degrees on camping, and temperature fell to -25 degrees during the night.
October 28 was my birthday; all hands wished me many happy returns of the day, and I was given letters from my wife and from Forde and Keohane, who somehow remembered the date from last year—these two, with Browning and Dickason, I had brought into the Expedition from H.M.S. "Talbot," one of my old ships. But to continue: we were all ready to start at 11 a.m. in a stiff, cold breeze, when I discovered that my personal bag had been taken off by the man-hauling party that came to assist us, so I put on ski and went to Hut Point, six miles back. I found Meares there, and he gave me a surprised but hearty welcome and wished me "Happy returns, Teddy." I explained what had happened; it had been done of course the night before when my namesake had taken my personal bag in to Hut Point from Cape Armitage to save me the trouble of carrying it after a hard day's work with the motors. As I had had no need of it, I never noticed its presence at Hut Point, so there it was. Meares made me laugh by an in the most friendly way, as if I was calling on him in his English home, "Stay and have lunch, won't you, Teddy?" Of course I did, but as I was wanted by the Motor Party it was a somewhat hurried meal, fried seal liver and bacon. We were not allowed to eat bacon on account of scurvy precaution, but still, it was my birthday, and nobody let me forget it. Feeling much better and less angry after this unlooked for ski-run, I swung out to the Barrier edge, over the sea ice, up the Barrier slope, and on to the Barrier itself, where I picked up the tracks of the motors and followed them for seven miles. I remember that ski run well: I felt so very lonely all by myself on the silent Barrier, surrounded as I was by lofty white mountains, which lifted their summits to the blue peaceful heavens. I thought over the future of the Southern Party and wondered how things would be one year hence; this was indeed facing the unknown. I enjoyed the keen air, and the crisp surface was so easy to negotiate after my former Barrier visits with a heavy sledge dragging one back, but the very easiness I was enjoying made me think of Amundsen and his dogs.
If the Norwegians could glide along like this, it would be "good-bye" to our hopes of planting Queen Alexandra's flag first at the South Pole. As a matter of fact, while I was then making my way along to overtake the motors, Amundsen and his Polar party were beyond the 80th parallel, forcing their way Southward and hourly increasing their distance from us and from Captain Scott, who had not even started. Yes, Amundsen was over 150 miles farther South, and his sledge runners were slithering over the snow, casting its powdered particles aside in beautiful little clouds while I was rapidly overhauling the motors with their labouring, sorely taxed custodians, Day, Lashly, and Hooper. It seems very cruel to say this, but there's no good in shutting one's eyes to Truth, however unpleasantly clad she may be. I caught the motors late in the afternoon after running nine miles; they had only done three miles whilst I had been doing fifteen. We continued crawling along with our loads, stopping to cool the engines every few minutes, it seemed, but at 11 p.m. they overheated to such an extent that we stopped for the night. I was fairly done, but not too tired to enjoy the supper which Hooper cooked, with its many luxuries produced by him. Hooper had informed Bowers of my birthday, and obtained all kinds of good things, which we despatched huddled together in our tents; for it was about 20 degrees below zero when we turned in well after midnight.
We intentionally lay in our bags until 8.30 next morning, but didn't get those dreadful motors to start until 10.45 a.m. Even then they only gave a few sniffs before breaking down and stopping, so that we could not advance perceptibly until 11.30. We had troubles all day, and were forced to camp on account of Day's sledge giving out at 5 p.m.—we daren't stop for lunch earlier, for once stopped one never could say when a re-start could be made.