Rivalries arose, as might have been expected, and on the
15th of the month a great race, the "Antarctic Derby," took place. It
was a notable event. The betting had been heavy, and every man aboard
the ship stood to win or lose on the result of the contest. Some money
had been staked, but the wagers that thrilled were those involving
stores of chocolate and cigarettes. The course had been laid off from
Khyber Pass, at the eastern end of the old lead ahead of the ship, to a
point clear of the jib-boom, a distance of about 700 yds. Five teams
went out in the dim noon twilight, with a zero temperature and an
aurora flickering faintly to the southward. The starting signal was to
be given by the flashing of a light on the meteorological station. I
was appointed starter, Worsley was judge, and James was timekeeper.
The bos'n, with a straw hat added to his usual Antarctic attire, stood
on a box near the winning-post, and was assisted by a couple of shady
characters to shout the odds, which were displayed on a board hung
around his neck--6 to 4 on Wild, "evens" on Crean, 2 to 1 against
Hurley, 6 to 1 against Macklin, and 8 to 1 against McIlroy. Canvas
handkerchiefs fluttered from an improvised grand stand, and the pups,
which had never seen such strange happenings before, sat round and
howled with excitement.
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