We depoted here four big tins of petrol and two drums of filtrate to lighten load of Day's sledge. Started off at six and soon found that the big end brass on No. 2 cylinder of this sledge had given out, so dropped two more tins of petrol and a case of filtrate oils. We thereupon continued at a snail's pace, until at 9.15 the connecting rod broke through the piston. We decided to abandon this sledge, and made a depot of the spare clothing, seal meat, Xmas fare, ski belonging to Atkinson and Wright, and four heavy cases of dog biscuit. I left a note in a conspicuous position on the depot, which we finished constructing at midnight. We wasted no time in turning in.
The clouds were radiating from the S.E., a precursor of blizzard, we feared, and sure enough we got it next day, when it burst upon us whilst we were putting on our footgear after breakfast. There was nothing for it but to get back into our sleeping-bags, wherein we spent the day.
On the 31st we were out of our bags and about, soon after six, to find it still drifting but showing signs of clearing. After breakfast we dug out sledges, and Lashly and Day got the snow out of the motor, a long and rotten job. The weather cleared about 11 a.m. and we got under way at noon. It turned out very fine and we advanced our weights 7 miles 600 yards, camping at 10.40. P.M.
As will be seen, these were long days, and although he did not say it, Day must have felt the crushing disappointment of the failure of the motors—it was not his fault, it was a question of trial and experience. Nowadays we have far more knowledge of air-cooled engines and such crawling juggernauts as tanks, for it may well be argued that Scott's motor sledges were the forerunners of the tanks.
On November 1 we advanced six miles and the motor then gave out. Day and Lashly give it their undivided attention for hours, and the next day we coaxed the wretched thing to Corner Camp and ourselves dragged the loads there.
Arrived at this important depot we deposited the dog pemmican and took on three sacks of oats, but after proceeding under motor power for 1 1/2 miles, the big end brass of No. 1 cylinder went, so we discarded the car and slogged on foot with a six weeks' food supply for one 4-man unit. Our actual weights were 185 lb. per man. We got the whole 740 lb. on to the 10 ft. sledge, but with a head wind it was rather a heavy load. We kept going at a mile an hour pace until 8 p.m.
I had left a note at the Corner Camp depot which told Scott of our trying experiences: how the engines overheated so that we had to stop, how by the time they were reasonably cooled the carburettor would refuse duty and must be warmed up with a blow lamp, what trouble Day and Lashly had had in starting the motors, and in short how we all four would heave with all our might on the spans of the towing sledges to ease the starting strain, and how the engines would give a few sniffs and then stop—but we must not omit the great point in their favour: the motors advanced the necessaries for the Southern journey 51 miles over rough, slippery, and crevassed ice and gave the ponies the chance to march light as far as Corner Camp—this is all that Oates asked for.
It was easier work now to pull our loads straight-forwardly South than to play about and expend our uttermost effort daily on those "qualified" motors.
Even Day confessed that his relief went hand in hand with his disappointment. He and Hooper stood both over six feet, neither of them had an ounce of spare flesh on them.
Lashly and I were more solid and squat, and we fixed our party up in harness so that the tall men pulled in front while the short, heavy pair dragged as "wheelers." Scott described our sledging here as "exceedingly good going," we were only just starting, that is Lashly and myself, for we two were in harness for more than three months on end.