The Winter Pony Read Online Free PDF

said Captain Scott. “They’re as good as Shackleton’s; I’m sure of that.”
    There was another new word. I was glad to be better than a shackleton, though I had no idea what it was.
    “They’ll do the job,” said Captain Scott.
    The job
. I pricked up my ears, hoping to learn something more. But the captain walked away with Mr. Oates and all the rest. So I began to stand around the edges of the field, trying to hear important words. Everything was a puzzle.
    When the men began to empty the ship, I hoped they were staying on the island. The things they unloaded were made for cold weather: big sledges and tents and woolly clothes. But they only emptied the ship to make repairs, and then they filled it again. The work took many days, and I spent most of them lying on the grass, eating every tiny clover I could reach without moving. Each morning, the lady brought a parasol and sat beside me, scratching my ears as I nibbled away.
    But the work came to an end eventually, and one evening, all of the men got onto the ship.
    I was afraid they were leaving without me. I called out to Mr. Oates. I whinnied and nickered for all I was worth. But he didn’t notice. So I dashed back and forth along the fence, crying out like a colt for its mother. But for once—for the first time—Mr. Oates did not come to see me.

    In the morning, everything seemed a disaster. The jetty was empty, the ship was loaded, and black smoke billowed from the funnel. I felt a terrible lurch inside my chest. It would be hard enough to watch him sail away, but even worse if Mr. Oates didn’t come and say good-bye.
    But the ship didn’t leave. Instead, a huge box appeared, rising from the muddled deck. It made bad memories in my mind, but I didn’t run away. I moved closer instead, hoping to be first aboard.
    The men took Hackenschmidt. Six of them wrestled him into the box, and he kicked and bucked all the time. It was the same for Christopher, and I was next after him. A big sailor named Taff Evans gave me a biscuit as he guided me into the box. “That’s the ticket,” he said proudly. “That’s how it’s done.”
    He rubbed my ears, then closed the box, and up I went. The men laughed to see me looking down at them as I munched away on my biscuit.
    Mr. Oates was waiting on the ship. “There’s my lad,” he said as he let me out of the box. “Midships,” he told a sailor, who led me to my place, down a deck so crowded with crates and sacks that we had to go in single file. I was given a stall in a row of four, with a roof of canvas cloth. I could look up toward the bow, or over the roof of the icehouse, past the funnel toward the stern. I had to peer between packing crates and machinery, but it was a pleasant view. Other ponies, not as lucky, were put right into the ship, in a dark space below the deck.
    When the last pony was aboard, the dogs came barking across the island. I had thought I was rid of them, but againthey were chained all around me. One was tied right in front of my stall, another only a few feet away, a few on the roof of the icehouse. I hoped their chains were good and strong, and I wished they’d stop their howling.
    The steam engine started thumping below me. Puffs of smoke rose from the funnel like black thunderheads. With a shrill from the whistle, and a cheer from the shore, we started on our way. Captain Scott shouted orders, the men hauled on the ropes, and the ship moved faster every moment. The thumping of the engine made everything shake and rattle and jingle. I saw the captain wave at his wife, who had stayed on the shore, then turn his back toward her. Soon we left the shelter of the land and came out to the open sea.

    Despite the never-ending roll of the ship, and the dogs at my feet, I found the early days of that voyage were some of the happiest of my life.
    Of the nineteen ponies, I was the sailors’ favorite. They named me James Pigg, in honor of a man who lived only in a book. “A pleasant rogue,”