South with Scott | Page 6

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 glorious sunrises. He was up always an hour before the sun and missed very little that was worth recording with his artistic touch. Wilson took Cherry-Garrard