and it will be good luck if we get four back to Cape Evans, or even
three. Jimmy Pigg may have fared badly; Bowers' big pony is in a bad
way after that frightful blizzard. I cannot remember such a bad storm
in February or March: the temperature was -7°.


Bowers Incident

I note the events of the night of March 1 whilst they are yet fresh
in my memory.

_Thursday, March_ 2, A.M.--The events of the past 48 hours bid fair
to wreck the expedition, and the only one comfort is the miraculous
avoidance of loss of life. We turned out early yesterday, Oates,
Gran, and I, after the dismal night of our pony's death, and pulled
towards the forage depot [16] on ski. As we approached, the sky
looked black and lowering, and mirage effects of huge broken floes
loomed out ahead. At first I thought it one of the strange optical
illusions common in this region--but as we neared the depot all doubt
was dispelled. The sea was full of broken pieces of Barrier edge. My
thoughts flew to the ponies and dogs, and fearful anxieties assailed
my mind. We turned to follow the sea edge and suddenly discovered a
working crack. We dashed over this and slackened pace again after a
quarter of a mile. Then again cracks appeared ahead and we increased
pace as much as possible, not slackening again till we were in line
between the Safety Camp and Castle Rock. Meanwhile my first thought
was to warn Evans. We set up tent, and Gran went to the depot with
a note as Oates and I disconsolately thought out the situation. I
thought to myself that if either party had reached safety either on
the Barrier or at Hut Point they would immediately have sent a warning