Fortunately for Wild and for us, Socks's weight snapped the swingle-tree of the sledge, so it was saved though the upper bearer was broken.
We lay down on our stomachs and looked into the gulf, but no sound or sign came to us; we seemed to be gazing down into a black bottomless pit.
Poor Socks was gone beyond recall, but if ever men had cause for gratitude we had in Wild's escape, and in the saving of the sledge. If the sledge had gone we should have been left with only two sleeping-bags for the four of us, and with such a short equipment we could scarcely have even got back to winter quarters. As it was, the loss of Socks was a most serious loss to us, because we had counted upon his meat, but all we could do was to take on the maize so that we could eat it ourselves.
Crevasses and pits of unknown depth continued to beset us, and with 250 lb. per man to haul we naturally could not march at any great rate; indeed, our anxiety to find a level and inland ice-sheet, so that we could increase our speed, was terrific.
Lower Glacier Depot. The Stores were buried in the Snow near the Rock in the Foreground
Falls, bruises, cut shins, crevasses, razor-edged ice, and heavy upward pulls were the sum of our days' trials, not interesting subjects for conversation when the night found us in camp; but, as a matter of fact, our talk was mainly about food and the things we would like to eat. To show how hungry we were, I have only to mention that by December 9 we were all looking forward to Christmas Day, for then, whatever happened, we were resolved to be full of food. On the tenth, after a day's strenuous fight with the glacier, we camped under a mountain which we named the "Cloud-Maker," and ground up the balance of the maize between flat stones, so that we might use it to eke out our supply of food.
The method of preparation was as primitive as the food would have been unpalatable to most people, but it was the only way we could make the maize fit to cook without using more oil than we could spare for lengthy boiling.
Critical as our position was, we were cheered by the thought that we were still getting south, but the sledges were being badly damaged by the continual ice-work, and as there were still 340 geographical miles between us and the Pole, we longed for a surface which was a little less like walking over a cucumber-frame. Of all the surfaces on which to travel, none can be more irritating than that of rotten ice through which one's feet are everlastingly breaking.
On such a surface, however, we could make a certain amount of progress, and it was not until December 12 that we met with conditions which reduced our progress for the day to a miserable three miles. Sharp-edge blue ice full of chasms and crevasses, and rising to hills and sinking into gullies, provided us with obstacles unequalled in any polar work for difficulty in travelling. Under such circumstances we had to have recourse to relay work, for we could only take on one sledge at a time, two of us pulling while the others steadied and held the sledge to keep it straight. In this way we advanced for a mile, and then returned over the crevasses and hauled up the other sledges over a surface where often and often a slip meant death.