ON THE PLATEAU TO THE FARTHEST SOUTH
Never do I expect to meet anything more tantalising than the plateau on
which our hopes were set. By December 18 I thought that we were almost
up, and yet we had to go on and on, apparently unable to get rid of the
crevasses.
By this time we were fully conscious that food was to be the key to
our success or failure to reach the Pole, and we began to save food
in order to spin it out, a saving which made us almost ravenous with
hunger. Each day we saved two biscuits per man, and also some pemmican
and sugar, and we tried to satisfy our hunger by eating pony maize,
which we soaked in water to make it less hard. If only dreams prevented
one from hunger we should have been well off, for each night we all
dreamed of foods.
A week before Christmas we had food for thirty-five days, and were
about three hundred geographical miles from the Pole, with the same
distance back to the depot we had just made, so that at the best we
knew that we must march on short rations if we were to reach our goal.
Each succeeding day we hoped to get rid of the crevasses, but although
we were fortunate in having been favoured with splendid weather, we had
to camp each night sustained by the hope that on the morrow we should
really be upon the plateau, and by the thought that Christmas Day--with
its splendid dinner--was approaching.
By December 21--Midsummer Day--the weather had changed, and we
encountered 28° of frost and such a strong blizzard wind that both our
fingers and our ears were frost-bitten, while our beards were masses of
ice all day long. From the conditions I could easily imagine that we
were on a spring sledging journey, for such a chilly wind was blowing
that it found its way through the nearly worn-out walls of our tent.
Relay work still continued to hamper us, and on the 22nd we had to
work with the alpine rope all day, dragging 400 lb. at a time up steep
slopes and across ridges, and roping ourselves together when we went
back for the second sledge, because the ground was so treacherous that
often we were only saved by the rope from falling into fathomless pits.
[Illustration: The Camp below "The Cloudmaker"]
Wild described this sensation of walking over a surface of half-ice
and half-snow as like walking over the glass roof of a station, and so
accustomed did we become to crevasses that our usual question when any
of us fell into one was, "Have you found it?"
I suppose that we became callous as regards immediate dangers, though
I confess that we were always glad to meet crevasses with their coats
off, that is, not hidden by their perilous snow-coverings. Longing as
we were really to stretch out our legs for the Pole, it can easily be
imagined how irksome this constant succession of crevasses was. And
to add to our discomforts, the temperature had become so low that the
pony-maize refused any longer to swell in the water, the result being
that it swelled after we had eaten it.
Christmas Eve, however, brought a change in our fortunes, and was
much the brightest day we had enjoyed since entering our southern
gateway. We covered over eleven miles, and at night were 9095 ft. above
sea-level, and the way before us was still rising.
So far we had seen no sign of the very hard surface that Captain Scott
speaks of in connection with his journey on the Northern Plateau, but
we were determined not to give up hopes of better surfaces, for without
them we knew that we should not reach the Pole. As Christmas approached
our thoughts naturally turned to home and the festivities and joys of
the time. How greatly we longed to hear "the hansoms slurring through
the London mud" it is impossible to say. But instead of the sights and
sounds of London we were lying in a little tent, isolated high on the
roof of the end of the world, far indeed from the trodden paths of men.
Nevertheless our thoughts flew across the wastes of snow and ice, and
across the oceans to those for whom we were striving, and who, we knew,
were thinking of us.
By noon on Christmas Day we had by hard hauling covered over five
miles, and had reached a latitude of 85° 51′ south. Then I took a
photograph of the camp with the Queen's flag flying and also our tent
flags, my companions being in the picture, and in the evening we had a
splendid dinner, the details of which I cannot refrain from giving.
First came "hoosh," consisting of pony ration boiled up with pemmican
and some of our emergency Oxo and biscuit. Then in the cocoa-water I
boiled our little plum pudding, which a friend of Wild's had given
him. This, with a drop of medical brandy, was a luxury which the
greatest glutton living might have envied. And afterwards came cocoa;
and, lastly, cigars and a spoonful of liqueur sent us by a friend in
Scotland.
We were really satisfied for once, and as we knew that we should not
be in that happy state again for many a long day, we discussed the
situation after dinner and decided still further to reduce our food.
On Christmas Day we were nearly 250 geographical miles from the Pole,
and having one month's food but only three weeks' biscuit, we resolved
to make each week's food last ten days, and to throw away everything
except the most absolute necessities.
Already we were as regards clothes down to the limit, but at this time
we decided also to dump a lot of spare gear--and risk it.
Pulling 150 lb. per man, we spent our Boxing Day among ridges and
crevasses. Every time we reached the top of a ridge we said to
ourselves, "Perhaps this is the last," but the last was long in
coming. And in the meantime our maize was nearly finished, and our
rations were bound to be shorter than ever. Considering that hard
half-cooked maize gave us indigestion, it is, perhaps, curious that we
were very sorry that there was so little of it left, but those who have
suffered from both hunger and indigestion know too well which is the
harder to endure.
On December 28 we reached 10,199 ft. above sea-level and a latitude of
86° 31', and bad headaches--which were, I think, a form of mountain
sickness--began to attack us. The sensation was as though the nerves
were being twisted up with a corkscrew and then pulled out. Our sledge
was by this time badly strained, and on the dreadful bad surface
of soft snow was very hard to move; and when it is remembered that
physical labour of any kind is always trying at a great height, it is
not to be wondered at that we were beginning to feel nearly spent.
If the rise would only have stopped we could have endured the cold,
but the two together were terribly trying; and then, to add to our
unhappiness, the last day but one of the old year brought with it such
a blizzard from the south that we had to spend nearly the whole of it
in our sleeping-bags.
There we lay while precious time and food were going, and tried to
think how we could improve the situation, but all we could find to
console us was the resolution that if we could get near enough to
the Pole to rush for it, we would leave almost everything behind us
and make the attempt. The last day of the year brought us eleven
miles nearer to our goal, and although our heads were aching and the
shortness of food was telling on us terribly, we were, in spite of
everything, cheered by the thought that we were still _getting south_.
[Illustration: Facsimile or Page of Shackleton's Diary]