the three other ponies were drowned. Only those who have served in the
Antarctic can realise fully what Bowers's party and also Scott's own
rescue party went through.

The incident which terminated in the loss of three more of our ponies
cast a temporary gloom over the depot party when we reassembled in the
safety of the old ramshackle magnetic lean-to at Hut Point. I use the
word lean-to because one could hardly describe it as a hut, for the
building was with out insulation, snow filled the space between ceiling
and roof, and whenever a fire was kindled or heat generated, water
dripped down in steady pit-a-pat until there was no dry floor space worth
the name.

It might be interesting to touch on the experiences of our friend James
Pigg, for this pony can only be described as a quaint but friendly little
rogue. He and Keohane seemed to have their own jokes apart from us. We
were left to ourselves on the 27th February, while Scott, as stated,
pushed forward to Safety Camp, "we," meaning Atkinson, Forde, Keohane,
and myself. We were kept in camp on the 27th by a strong blizzard, and
the next day when the weather abated, during our forenoon march James
Pigg fell into a crevasse, quite a small one, and his girth, through so
much high feeding, jammed him by his stomach and prevented him falling
far down. The whole situation was ridiculous. We parbuckled him out by
means of the Alpine rope, which was quickly detached from the sledge,
James Pigg taking a lively interest in the proceedings, and finally
rolling over on his back and kicking himself to his feet as we four
dragged him up to the surface. This done, Keohane looking very Irish and
smiling, bent over and peered down into the bluey depths of the crevasse
and, to our intense amusement, James Pigg strolled over alongside of him
and hung his head down too. He then turned to Keohane, who patted his