ON THE GREAT GLACIER
The morning of December 5 saw us breaking camp at eight o'clock, and
proceeding south down an icy slope to the main glacier. Soon, however,
the ice slope gave place to a snow slope, and after a time the snow was
replaced by blue ice split by so many cracks and crevasses that it was
impossible for Socks to continue to drag the sledge without our risking
his life in one of the many holes.
Snow-blindness was still troubling me so much that I stayed in camp
after lunch was over, while Marshall and Adams went on to spy out a
good route for us to follow. They found that there was more cracked-up
blue ice ahead of us, and--what was much more remarkable--they also
discovered a bird, brown in colour with a white line under each wing,
which had flown just over their heads and had disappeared to the south.
Such an incident was wonderfully strange in latitude 83° 40′ south,
and what this bird was I am unable to say, for both Adams and Marshall
were sure that it was not a skua-gull, which was the only bird I could
imagine venturing so far south.
Our camp for that night was pitched under a wonderful pillar of
granite, and as pieces of granite, from the size of a hazel-nut to
great boulders weighing thirty tons or more, were lying all around, we
felt that at any moment a great piece of rock might come hurtling upon
us. On one snow slope, indeed, we could see the fresh track of a fallen
rock, but as it was impossible to spread a tent on the blue ice we were
compelled to camp, for half a mile of crevassed ice lay between us and
the snow slope to the south-south-west, and we were too tired to march
any farther.
We left a depot at this spot, and then, refreshed by sleep, we divided
up our load and managed to get the whole lot over the crevasses in
three journeys.
But it was an awful job, for every step was a venture, and one
felt that at any moment our journey towards the Pole might come
to a permanent close. Having, however, succeeded in crossing this
particularly dangerous half-mile, my companions (leaving me to rest
with one eye entirely blocked up by snow-blindness) went back for
Socks, and early in the afternoon we were once more camped upon snow.
During the rest of that day we had a wonderful view of the mountains
which rose up in peaks and ranges, but the going was exceedingly heavy
and our progress was consequently very slow.
He, however, who hopes to go into the unexplored spots of the world
must harden himself to labour, and find causes for cheerfulness in
conditions which are at the best only comparatively cheering. For
instance, on the following afternoon we were congratulating ourselves
that if the crevasses were as frequent as ever, the light, at any rate,
was better than it had been during the morning, when suddenly we heard
a shout of "Help" from Wild, who was following us with Socks.
Stopping immediately, we rushed to his assistance, and saw the pony
sledge with the forward end down a crevasse, and Wild reaching out from
the side of the gulf and hanging on to the sledge. There was no sign
whatever of Socks, and Wild's escape was simply miraculous.
He had been following our tracks, which passed over a crevasse entirely
covered with snow, when the weight of the pony had broken through the
snow crust and in a second all was over. Wild told us that he felt a
sort of rushing wind, that the leading rope was snatched from his hand,
and that he put out his arms and just caught the further edge of the
chasm.
Fortunately for Wild and for us, Socks's weight snapped the
swingle-tree of the sledge, so it was saved though the upper bearer was
broken.
We lay down on our stomachs and looked into the gulf, but no sound or
sign came to us; we seemed to be gazing down into a black bottomless
pit.
Poor Socks was gone beyond recall, but if ever men had cause for
gratitude we had in Wild's escape, and in the saving of the sledge.
If the sledge had gone we should have been left with only two
sleeping-bags for the four of us, and with such a short equipment we
could scarcely have even got back to winter quarters. As it was, the
loss of Socks was a most serious loss to us, because we had counted
upon his meat, but all we could do was to take on the maize so that we
could eat it ourselves.
Crevasses and pits of unknown depth continued to beset us, and with 250
lb. per man to haul we naturally could not march at any great rate;
indeed, our anxiety to find a level and inland ice-sheet, so that we
could increase our speed, was terrific.
[Illustration: Lower Glacier Depot. The Stores were buried in the Snow
near the Rock in the Foreground]
Falls, bruises, cut shins, crevasses, razor-edged ice, and heavy upward
pulls were the sum of our days' trials, not interesting subjects for
conversation when the night found us in camp; but, as a matter of fact,
our talk was mainly about food and the things we would like to eat. To
show how hungry we were, I have only to mention that by December 9 we
were all looking forward to Christmas Day, for then, whatever happened,
we were resolved to be full of food. On the tenth, after a day's
strenuous fight with the glacier, we camped under a mountain which we
named the "Cloud-Maker," and ground up the balance of the maize between
flat stones, so that we might use it to eke out our supply of food.
The method of preparation was as primitive as the food would have been
unpalatable to most people, but it was the only way we could make
the maize fit to cook without using more oil than we could spare for
lengthy boiling.
Critical as our position was, we were cheered by the thought that we
were still getting south, but the sledges were being badly damaged by
the continual ice-work, and as there were still 340 geographical miles
between us and the Pole, we longed for a surface which was a little
less like walking over a cucumber-frame. Of all the surfaces on which
to travel, none can be more irritating than that of rotten ice through
which one's feet are everlastingly breaking.
On such a surface, however, we could make a certain amount of progress,
and it was not until December 12 that we met with conditions which
reduced our progress for the day to a miserable three miles. Sharp-edge
blue ice full of chasms and crevasses, and rising to hills and sinking
into gullies, provided us with obstacles unequalled in any polar work
for difficulty in travelling. Under such circumstances we had to have
recourse to relay work, for we could only take on one sledge at a
time, two of us pulling while the others steadied and held the sledge
to keep it straight. In this way we advanced for a mile, and then
returned over the crevasses and hauled up the other sledges over a
surface where often and often a slip meant death.
In such rough-and-tumble work the sledges naturally suffered, and the
one with the broken bow frequently striking against hard, sharp ice,
pulled us up with a jerk and flung us down. In all our difficulties and
dangers, however, we found solace in the thought that the glacier must
eventually end and our longed-for plateau be reached.
By December 16 we had crossed nearly one hundred miles of crevassed
ice and risen 6000 ft. on the largest glacier in the world, and on
the following afternoon we burned our boats behind us as regards warm
clothing, and made a depot of everything except the barest necessities.
But relay work still hampered our progress towards our goal, and no
thirsty man ever longed for water with more eagerness than we longed
for the plateau and the end of that vast glacier.