geographical side of the venture, the President said that Captain Scott was going to prove once again that the manhood of our nation was not dead and that the characteristics of our ancestors who won our great Empire still flourished amongst us.

After our leader had replied to this speech Sir Clements Markham, father of modern British exploration, proposed the toast of the officers and staff in the most touching terms. Poor Sir Clements is no more, but it was he who first selected Captain Scott for Polar work, and he, indeed, who was responsible for many others than those present at lunch joining Antarctic expeditions, myself included.

CHAPTER II

VOYAGE OF THE "TERRA NOVA"

Sailing day came at last, and on June 1, 1910, when I proudly showed Scott his ship, he very kindly ordered the hands aft and thanked them for what they had done.

The yards were square, the hatches on with spick-and-span white hatch covers, a broad white ribbon brightened the black side, and gold leaf bedizened the quarter badges besides gilding the rope scroll on the stern. The ship had been well painted up, a neat harbour furl put on the sails, and if the steamers and lofty sailing vessels in the basin could have spoken, their message would surely have been, "Well done, little 'un."

What a change from the smudgy little lamp-black craft of last November—so much for paint and polish. All the same it was the "Terra Nova's" Indian summer. A close search by the technically expert would have revealed scars of age in the little lady, furrows worn in her sides by grinding ice floes, patches in the sails, strengthening pieces in the cross-trees and sad-looking deadeyes and lanyards which plainly told of a bygone age.

But the merchant seamen who watched from the dock side were kind and said nothing. The old admirals who had come down to visit the ship were used to these things, or perhaps they did not twig it. After all, what did it matter, it was sailing day, we were all as proud as peacocks of our little ship, and from that day forward we pulled together and played the game, or tried to.

Lady Bridgeman, wife of the first Sea Lord, and Lady Markham hoisted the White Ensign and the Burgee of the Royal Yacht Squadron an hour or so before sailing. At 4.45 p.m. the visitors were warned off the ship, and a quarter of an hour later we slipped from our wharf in the South-West India Docks and proceeded into the river and thence to Greenhithe, where we anchored off my old training ship, the "Worcester," and gave the cadets a chance to look over the ship. On the 3rd June we arrived at Spithead, where we were boarded by Captain Chetwynd, Superintendent of Compasses at the Admiralty, who swung the ship and adjusted our compasses. Captain Scott joined us on the 4th and paid a visit with his "yacht" to the R.Y.S. at Cows. On the 6th we completed a series of magnetic observations in the Solent, after which many officers were entertained by Captain Mark Kerr in the ill-fated "Invincible." We were royally looked after, but I am ashamed to say we cleared most of his canvas and boatswain's stores out of the ship. Perhaps a new 3 1/2-inch hawser found its way to the "Terra Nova"; anyway, if the "Invincible's" stores came on board the exploring vessel she made good use of them and saved them their Jutland fate. We left the Solent in high feather on the following day.

The "Sea Horse" took us in tow to the Needles, from whence H.M.S. "Cumberland," Cadets' Training Ship; towed us to Weymouth Bay. This was poor Scott's last Naval review. He had landed at Portsmouth and busied himself with the Expedition's affairs and rejoined us at Weymouth in time to steam through the Home Fleet assembled in Portland Harbour. We steamed out of the 'hole in the wall' at the western end of Portland Breakwater and rounded Portland Bill at sunset on our way to Cardiff, where we were to be received by my own Welsh friends and endowed with all good things. We were welcomed by the citizens of the great Welsh seaport with enthusiasm. Free docking, free coal, defects made good for nothing, an office and staff placed at our disposal, in fact everything was done with an open-hearted generosity. We took another 300 tons of patent fuel on board and nearly 100 tons of Insole's best Welsh steaming coal, together with the bulk of our lubricating oils. When complete with fuel we met with our first setback, for the little ship settled deeply in the water and the seams, which had up till now been well above the water-line, leaked in a way that augured a gloomy future for the crew in the nature of pumping. With steam up this did not mean anything much, but under sail alone, unless we could locate the leaky seams, it meant half an hour to an hour's pumping every watch. We found a very leaky spot in the fore peak, which was mostly made good by cementing.

On the 15th June we left the United Kingdom after a rattling good time in Cardiff. Many shore boats and small craft accompanied us down the Bristol Channel as far as Breaksea Light Vessel. We hoisted the Cardiff flag at the fore and the Welsh flag at the mizen—some wag pointed to the flag and asked why we had not a leek under it, and I felt bound to reply that we had a leak in the fore peak! It was a wonderful send-off and we cheered ourselves hoarse. Captain Scott left with our most intimate friends in the pilot boat and we proceeded a little sadly on our way.

After passing Lundy Island we experienced a head wind and the gentle summer swell of the Atlantic. In spite of her deeply-laden condition the "Terra Nova" breasted each wave in splendid form, lifting her toy bowsprit proudly in the air till she reminded me, with her deck cargo, of a little mother with her child upon her back.

Our first port of call was Madeira, where it was proposed to bunker, and we made good passage to the island under steam and sail for the most part. We stayed a couple of days coaling and taking magnetic observations at Funchal, then ran out to the north-east Trades, let fires out, and became a sailing ship.

Whilst lazily gazing at fertile Madeira from our anchorage we little dreamt that within two months the distinguished Norseman, Roald Amundsen, would be unfolding his plans to his companions on board the "Fram" in this very anchorage, plans which changed the whole published object of his expedition, plans which culminated in the triumph of the Norwegian flag over our own little Union Jack, and plans which caused our people a fearful disappointment—for Amundsen's ultimate success meant our failure to achieve the main object of our Expedition: to plant the British Flag first at the South Pole.

Under sail! Quite a number of the scientists and crew had never been to sea in a sailing ship before, but a fair wind and a collection of keen and smiling young men moving about the decks were particularly refreshing to me after the year of fund collecting and preparation.

We learnt to know a great deal about one another on the outward voyage to New Zealand, where we were to embark our dogs and ponies. The most surprising personality was Bowers, considering all things.

Officers, scientists, and the watch worked side by side trimming coals and restoring the 'tween decks as cases were shaken and equipment assembled. The scientific staff were soon efficient at handling, reefing, and steering. Every one lent a hand at whatever work was going. Victor Campbell was christened the "Wicked Mate," and he shepherded and fathered the afterguard delightfully.

Wilson and I shared the Captain's cabin, and when there was nothing afoot he made lovely sea sketches and water colour drawings to keep his hand in. Certainly Uncle Bill (Dr. Wilson's nickname) had copy enough in those days of sunlit seas and