My own
tent was promised some kidneys if we were good, and our mouths watered
with the prospect of the hoosh before us. The seal had been left for
dead, and when on our homeward way we neared the place of his demise
Titus went off to carve our dinner from him. The next thing we saw was
the seal lolloping straight for his hole, while Oates did his best to
stab him. The quarry made off safely not much hurt, for, as we discovered
later, a clasp-knife is quite useless to kill a seal. Oates returned with
a bad cut, as his hand had slipped down the knife; and it was a long time
before he was allowed to forget it.
This Barrier, which we were to know so well, was soft, too soft for the
ponies, and apparently flat. Only to our left, some hundreds of yards
distant, there were two little snowy mounds. We got out the telescope
which we carried, but could make nothing of them. While we held our
ponies Scott walked towards them, and soon we saw him brushing away snow
and uncovering something dark beneath. They were tents, obviously left by
Shackleton or his men when the Nimrod was embarking his Southern party
from the Barrier. They were snowed up outside, and iced up inside almost
to the caps. Afterwards we dug them out, a good evening's work. The
fabric was absolutely rotten, we just tore it down with our hands, but
the bamboos and caps were as sound as ever.
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