GLOSSARY 579
INDEX 581
ILLUSTRATIONS
A Halo round the Moon, showing vertical and horizontal shafts
and mock Moons. _Frontispiece_
_From a water-colour drawing by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._
FACING PAGE
Camp on the Barrier. November 22, 1911. A rough sketch
for future use. 322
_From a sketch by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._
Parhelia. For description, see text. November 14, 1911. A
rough sketch for future use. 332
_From a sketch by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._
PLATE III. The Mountains which lie between the Barrier and
the Plateau as seen on December 1, 1911. 338
_From sketches by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._
A Pony Camp on the Barrier. 346
The Dog Teams leaving the Beardmore Glacier. Mount Hope
and the Gateway before them. 346
_From photographs by C. S. Wright._
PLATE IV. Transit sketch for the Lower Glacier Depôt.
December 11, 1911. Showing the Pillar Rock, mainland
mountains, the Gateway or Gap, and the beginning of the
main Beardmore Glacier outlet on to the Barrier. 352
_From sketches by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._
PLATE V. Mount F. L. Smith and the land to the North-West.
December 12, 1911. 354
_From sketches by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._
PLATE VI. Mount Elizabeth, Mount Anne and Socks Glacier.
December 13, 1911. 356
_From sketches by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._
Mount Patrick. December 16, 1911. 358
_From a sketch by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._
PLATE VII. From Mount Deakin to Mount Kinsey, showing
the outlet of the Keltie Glacier, and Mount Usher in the
distance. December 19, 1911. 362
_From sketches by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._
Our night Camp at the foot of the Buckley Island ice-falls.
December 20, 1911. Buckley Island in the background.
Note ablation pits in the snow. 364
_From a photograph by C. S. Wright._
The Adams Mountains. 382
The First Return Party on the Beardmore Glacier. 382
_From photographs by C. S. Wright._
Camp below the Cloudmaker. Note pressure ridges in the
middle distance. 390
_From a photograph by C. S. Wright._
PLATE VIII. From Mount Kyffin to Mount Patrick. December
14, 1911. 392
_From sketches by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._
View from Arrival Heights northwards to Cape Evans and the
Dellbridge Islands. 428
Cape Royds from Cape Barne, with the frozen McMurdo Sound. 428
_From photographs by F. Debenham._
Cape Evans in Winter. This view is drawn when looking
northwards from under the Ramp. 440
_From a water-colour drawing by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._
North Bay and the snout of the Barne Glacier from Cape Evans. 448
_From a photograph by F. Debenham._
The Mule Party leaves Cape Evans. October 29, 1912. 472
_From a photograph by F. Debenham._
The Dog Party leaves Hut Point. November 1, 1912. 478
_From a photograph by F. Debenham._
"Atch": E. L. Atkinson, commanding the Main Landing
Party after the death of Scott. 492
"Titus" Oates. 492
_From photographs by C. S. Wright._
The Tent left by Amundsen at the South Pole (Polheim). 506
_From a sketch by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._
Buckley Island, where the fossils were found. 518
_From a photograph by C. S. Wright._
PLATE IX. Buckley Island, sketched during the evening of
December 21, 1911. 522
_From sketches by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._
Mount Kyffin, sketched on December 13, 1911. 524
_From a sketch by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._
Where Evans died, showing the Pillar Rock near which the
Lower Glacier Depôt was made. Sketched on December 11, 1911. 526
_From a sketch by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._
Sledging in a high wind: the floor-cloth of the tent is the sail. 530
_From a sketch by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._
PLATE X. Mount Longstaff, sketched on December 1, 1911.
See also PLATE III., p. 338 532
_From sketches by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._
A Blizzard Camp: the half-buried sledge is in the foreground. 536
_From a sketch by Dr. Edward A. Wilson._
MAP
The Polar Journey 542
CHAPTER VIII
SPRING
Inside was pandemonium. Most men had gone to bed, and I have a blurred
memory of men in pyjamas and dressing-gowns getting hold of me and trying
to get the chunks of armour which were my clothes to leave my body.
Finally they cut them off and threw them into an angular heap at the foot
of my bunk. Next morning they were a sodden mass weighing 24 lbs. Bread
and jam, and cocoa; showers of questions; "You know this is the hardest
journey ever made," from Scott; a broken record of George Robey on the
gramophone which started us laughing until in our weak state we found it
difficult to stop. I have no doubt that I had not stood the journey as
well as Wilson: my jaw had dropped when I came in, so they tell me. Then
into my warm blanket bag, and I managed to keep awake just long enough to
think that Paradise must feel something like this.
We slept ten thousand thousand years, were wakened to find everybody at
breakfast, and passed a wonderful day, lazying about, half asleep and
wholly happy, listening to the news and answering questions. "We are
looked upon as beings who have come from another world. This afternoon I
had a shave after soaking my face in a hot sponge, and then a bath.
Lashly had already cut my hair. Bill looks very thin and we are all very
blear-eyed from want of sleep. I have not much appetite, my mouth is very
dry and throat sore with a troublesome hacking cough which I have had all
the journey. My taste is gone. We are getting badly spoiled, but our
beds are the height of all our pleasures."[168]
But this did not last long:
"Another very happy day doing nothing. After falling asleep two or three
times I went to bed, read Kim, and slept. About two hours after each meal
we all want another, and after a tremendous supper last night we had
another meal before turning in. I have my taste back but all our fingers
are impossible, they might be so many pieces of lead except for the pins
and needles feeling in them which we have also got in our feet. My toes
are very bulbous and some toe-nails are coming off. My left heel is one
big burst blister. Going straight out of a warm bed into a strong wind
outside nearly bowled me over. I felt quite faint, and pulled myself
together thinking it was all nerves: but it began to come on again and I
had to make for the hut as quickly as possible. Birdie is now full of
schemes for doing the trip again next year. Bill says it is too great a
risk in the darkness, and he will not consider it, though he thinks that
to go in August might be possible."[169]
And again a day or two later:
"I came in covered with a red rash which is rather ticklish. My ankles
and knees are a bit puffy, but my feet are not so painful as Bill's and
Birdie's. Hands itch a bit. We must be very weak and worn out, though I
think Birdie is the strongest of us. He seems to be picking up very
quickly. Bill is still very worn and rather haggard. The kindness of
everybody would spoil an angel."[170]
I have put these personal experiences down from my diary because they are
the only contemporary record I possess. Scott's own diary at this time
contains the statement: "The Crozier party returned last night after
enduring for five weeks the hardest conditions on record. They looked
more weather-worn than any one I have yet seen. Their faces were scarred
and wrinkled, their eyes dull, their hands whitened and creased with the
constant exposure to damp and cold, yet the scars of frost-bite were
very few ... to-day after a night's rest our travellers are very
different in appearance and mental capacity."[171]
"Atch has been lost in a blizzard," was the news which we got as soon as
we could grasp anything. Since then he has spent a year of war in the
North Sea, seen the Dardanelles campaign, and much fighting in France,
and has been blown up in a monitor. I doubt whether he does not reckon
that night the worst of the lot. He ought to have been blown into
hundreds of little bits, but always like some hardy indiarubber ball he
turns up again, a little dented, but with the same tough elasticity which
refuses to be hurt. And with the same quiet voice he volunteers for the
next, and tells you how splendid everybody was except himself.
It was the blizzard of July 4, when we were lying in the windless bight
on our way to Cape Crozier, and we knew it must be blowing all round us.
At any rate it was blowing at Cape Evans, though it eased up in the
afternoon, and Atkinson and Taylor went up the Ramp to read the
thermometers there. They returned without great difficulty, and some
discussion seems to have arisen as to whether it was possible to read the
two screens on the sea-ice. Atkinson said he would go and read that in
North Bay: Gran said he was going to South Bay. They started
independently at 5.30 P.M. Gran returned an hour and a quarter
afterwards. He had gone about two hundred yards.
Atkinson had not gone much farther when he decided that he had better
give it up, so he turned and faced the wind, steering by keeping it on
his cheek. We discovered afterwards that the wind does not blow quite in
the same direction at the end of the Cape as it does just where the hut
lies. Perhaps it was this, perhaps his left leg carried him a little
farther than his right, perhaps it was that the numbing effect of a
blizzard on a man's brain was already having its effect, certainly
Atkinson does not know himself, but instead of striking the Cape which
ran across his true front, he found himself by an old fish trap which he
knew was 200 yards out on the sea-ice. He made a great effort to steady
himself and make for the Cape, but any one who has stood in a blizzard
will understand how difficult that is. The snow was a blanket raging all
round him, and it was quite dark. He walked on, and found nothing.
Everything else is vague. Hour after hour he staggered about: he got his
hand badly frost-bitten: he found pressure: he fell over it: he was
crawling in it, on his hands and knees. Stumbling, tumbling, tripping,
buffeted by the endless lash of the wind, sprawling through miles of
punishing snow, he still seems to have kept his brain working. He found
an island, thought it was Inaccessible, spent ages in coasting along it,
lost it, found more pressure, and crawled along it. He found another
island, and the same horrible, almost senseless, search went on. Under
the lee of some rocks he waited for a time. His clothing was thin though
he had his wind-clothes, and, a horrible thought if this was to go on, he
had boots on his feet instead of warm finnesko. Here also he kicked out a
hole in a drift where he might have more chance if he were forced to lie
down. For sleep is the end of men who get lost in blizzards. Though he
did not know it he must now have been out more than four hours.
There was little chance for him if the blizzard continued, but hope
revived when the moon showed in a partial lull. It is wonderful that he
was sufficiently active to grasp the significance of this, and groping
back in his brain he found he could remember the bearing of the moon from
Cape Evans when he went to bed the night before. The hut must be
somewhere over there: this must be Inaccessible Island! He left the
island and made in that direction, but the blizzard came down again with
added force and the moon was blotted out. He tried to return to the
island and failed: then he stumbled on another island, perhaps the same
one, and waited. Again the lull came, and again he set off, and walked
and walked, until he recognized Inaccessible Island on his left. Clearly
he must have been under Great Razorback Island and this is some four
miles from Cape Evans. The moon still showed, and on he walked and then
at last he saw a flame.
Atkinson's continued absence was not noticed at the hut until dinner was
nearly over at 7.15; that is, until he had been absent about two hours.
The wind at Cape Evans had dropped though it was thick all round, and no
great anxiety was felt: some went out and shouted, others went north with
a lantern, and Day arranged to light a paraffin flare on Wind Vane Hill.
Atkinson never experienced this lull, and having seen the way blizzards
will sweep down the Strait though the coastline is comparatively clear
and calm, I can understand how he was in the thick of it all the time. I
feel convinced that most of these blizzards are local affairs. The party
which had gone north returned at 9.30 without news, and Scott became
seriously alarmed. Between 9.30 and 10 six search parties started out.
But time was passing and Atkinson had been away more than six hours.
The light which Atkinson had seen was a flare of tow soaked in petrol lit
by Day at Cape Evans. He corrected his course and before long was under
the rock upon which Day could be seen working like some lanky devil in
one of Dante's hells. Atkinson shouted again and again but could not
attract his attention, and finally walked almost into the hut before he
was found by two men searching the Cape. "It was all my own damned
fault," he said, "but Scott never slanged me at all." I really think we
should all have been as merciful! Wouldn't _you_?
And that was that: but he had a beastly hand.
Theoretically the sun returned to us on August 23. Practically there was
nothing to be seen except blinding drift. But we saw his upper limb two
days later. In Scott's words the daylight came "rushing" at us. Two
spring journeys were contemplated; and with preparations for the Polar
Journey, and the ordinary routine work of the station, everybody had as
much on his hands as he could get through.
Lieutenant Evans, Gran and Forde volunteered to go out to Corner Camp and
dig out this depôt as well as that of Safety Camp. They started on
September 9 and camped on the sea-ice beyond Cape Armitage that night,
the minimum temperature being -45°. They dug out Safety Camp next
morning, and marched on towards Corner Camp. The minimum that night was
-62.3°. The next evening they made their night camp as a blizzard was
coming up, the temperature at the same time being -34.5° and minimum for
the night -40°. This is an extremely low temperature for a blizzard. They
made a start in a very cold wind the next afternoon (September 12) and
camped at 8.30 P.M. That night was bitterly cold and they found that the
minimum showed -73.3° for that night. Evans reports adversely on the use
of the eider-down bag and inner tent, but here none of our Winter Journey
men would agree with him.[172] Most of September 13th was spent in
digging out Corner Camp which they left at 5 P.M., intending to travel
back to Hut Point without stopping except for meals. They marched all
through that night with two halts for meals and arrived at Hut Point at 3
P.M. on September 14, having covered a distance of 34.6 statute miles.
They reached Cape Evans the following day after an absence of 6½
days.[173]
During this journey Forde got his hand badly frost-bitten which
necessitated his return in the Terra Nova in March 1912. He owed a good
deal to the skilful treatment Atkinson gave it.
Wilson was still looking grey and drawn some days, and I was not too fit,
but Bowers was indefatigable. Soon after we got in from Cape Crozier he
heard that Scott was going over to the Western Mountains: somehow or
other he persuaded Scott to take him, and they started with Seaman Evans
and Simpson on September 15 on what Scott calls "a remarkably pleasant
and instructive little spring journey,"[174] and what Bowers called a
jolly picnic.
This picnic started from the hut in a -40° temperature, dragging 180 lbs.
per man, mainly composed of stores for the geological party of the
summer. They penetrated as far north as Dunlop Island and turned back
from there on September 24, reaching Cape Evans on September 29, marching
twenty-one miles (statute) into a blizzard wind with occasional storms of
drift and a temperature of -16°: and they marched a little too long; for
a storm of drift came against them and they had to camp. It is never very
easy pitching a tent on sea-ice because there is not very much snow on
the ice: on this occasion it was only after they had detached the inner
tent, which was fastened to the bamboos, that they could hold the
bamboos, and then it was only inch by inch that they got the outer cover
on. At 9 P.M. the drift took off though the wind was as strong as ever,
and they decided to make for Cape Evans. They arrived at 1.15 A.M. after
one of the most strenuous days which Scott could remember: and that meant
a good deal. Simpson's face was a sight! During his absence Griffith
Taylor became meteorologist-in-chief. He was a greedy scientist, and he
also wielded a fluent pen. Consequently his output during the year and a
half which he spent with us was large, and ranged from the results of the
two excellent scientific journeys which he led in the Western Mountains,
to this work during the latter half of September. He was a most valued
contributor to The South Polar Times, and his prose and poetry both had a
bite which was never equalled by any other of our amateur journalists.
When his pen was still, his tongue wagged, and the arguments he led were
legion. The hut was a merrier place for his presence. When the weather
was good he might be seen striding over the rocks with a complete
disregard of the effect on his clothes: he wore through a pair of boots
quicker than anybody I have ever known, and his socks had to be mended
with string. Ice movement and erosion were also of interest to him, and
almost every day he spent some time in studying the slopes and huge
ice-cliffs of the Barne Glacier, and other points of interest. With equal
ferocity he would throw himself into his curtained bunk because he was
bored, or emerge from it to take part in some argument which was
troubling the table. His diary must have been almost as long as the
reports he wrote for Scott of his geological explorations. He was a
demon note-taker, and he had a passion for being equipped so that he
could cope with any observation which might turn up. Thus Old Griff on a
sledge journey might have notebooks protruding from every pocket, and
hung about his person, a sundial, a prismatic compass, a sheath knife, a
pair of binoculars, a geological hammer, chronometer, pedometer, camera,
aneroid and other items of surveying gear, as well as his goggles and
mitts. And in his hand might be an ice-axe which he used as he went along
to the possible advancement of science, but the certain disorganization
of his companions.
His gaunt, untamed appearance was atoned for by a halo of good-fellowship
which hovered about his head. I am sure he must have been an untidy
person to have in your tent: I feel equally sure that his tent-mates
would have been sorry to lose him. His gear took up more room than was
strictly his share, and his mind also filled up a considerable amount of
space. He always bulked large, and when he returned to the Australian
Government, which had lent him for the first two sledging seasons, he
left a noticeable gap in our company.
From the time we returned from Cape Crozier until now Scott had been full
of buck. Our return had taken a weight off his mind: the return of the
daylight was stimulating to everybody: and to a man of his impatient and
impetuous temperament the end of the long period of waiting was a relief.
Also everything was going well. On September 10 he writes with a sigh of
relief that the detailed plans for the Southern Journey are finished at
last. "Every figure has been checked by Bowers, who has been an enormous
help to me. If the motors are successful, we shall have no difficulty in
getting to the Glacier, and if they fail, we shall still get there with
any ordinary degree of good fortune. To work three units of four men from
that point onwards requires no small provision, but with the proper
provision it should take a good deal to stop the attainment of our
object. I have tried to take every reasonable possibility of misfortune
into consideration, and to so organize the parties as to be prepared to
meet them. I fear to be too sanguine, yet taking everything into
consideration I feel that our chances ought to be good."[175]
And again he writes: "Of hopeful signs for the future none are more
remarkable than the health and spirit of our people. It would be
impossible to imagine a more vigorous community, and there does not seem
to be a single weak spot in the twelve good men and true who are chosen
for the Southern advance. All are now experienced sledge travellers, knit
together with a bond of friendship that has never been equalled under
such circumstances. Thanks to these people, and more especially to Bowers
and Petty Officer Evans, there is not a single detail of our equipment
which is not arranged with the utmost care and in accordance with the
tests of experience."[176]
Indeed Bowers had been of the very greatest use to Scott in the working
out of these plans. Not only had he all the details of stores at his
finger-tips, but he had studied polar clothing and polar food, was full
of plans and alternative plans, and, best of all, refused to be beaten by
any problem which presented itself. The actual distribution of weights
between dogs, motors and ponies, and between the different ponies, was
largely left in his hands. We had only to lead our ponies out on the day
of the start and we were sure to find our sledges ready, each with the
right load and weight. To the leader of an expedition such a man was
worth his weight in gold.
But now Scott became worried and unhappy. We were running things on a
fine margin of transport, and during the month before we were due to
start mishap followed mishap in the most disgusting way. Three men were
more or less incapacitated: Forde with his frozen hand, Clissold who
concussed himself by a fall from a berg, and Debenham who hurt his knee
seriously when playing foot-ball. One of the ponies, Jehu, was such a
crock that at one time it was decided not to take him out at all: and
very bad opinions were also held of Chinaman. Another dog died of a
mysterious disease. "It is trying," writes Scott, "but I am past
despondency. Things must take their course."[177] And "if this waiting
were to continue it looks as though we should become a regular party of
'crocks.'"[178]
Then on the top of all this came a bad accident to one of the motor axles
on the eve of departure. "To-night the motors were to be taken on to the
floe. The drifts made the road very uneven, and the first and best motor
overrode its chain; the chain was replaced and the machine proceeded, but
just short of the floe was thrust to a steep inclination by a ridge, and
the chain again overrode the sprockets; this time by ill fortune Day
slipped at the critical moment and without intention jammed the throttle
full on. The engine brought up, but there was an ominous trickle of oil
under the back axle, and investigation showed that the axle casing
(aluminium) had split. The casing had been stripped and brought into the
hut: we may be able to do something to it, but time presses. It all goes
to show that we want more experience and workshops. I am secretly
convinced that we shall not get much help from the motors, yet nothing
has ever happened to them that was unavoidable. A little more care and
foresight would make them splendid allies. The trouble is that if they
fail, no one will ever believe this."[179]
In the meantime Meares and Dimitri ran out to Corner Camp from Hut Point
twice with the two dog-teams. The first time they journeyed out and back
in two days and a night, returning on October 15; and another very
similar run was made before the end of the month.
The motor party was to start first, but was delayed until October 24.
They were to wait for us in latitude 80° 30´, man-hauling certain loads
on if the motors broke down. The two engineers were Day and Lashly, and
their two helpers, who steered by pulling on a rope in front, were
Lieutenant Evans and Hooper. Scott was "immensely eager that these
tractors should succeed, even though they may not be of great help to our
Southern advance. A small measure of success will be enough to show their
possibilities, their ability to revolutionize polar transport."[180]
Lashly, as the reader may know by now, was a chief stoker in the Navy,
and accompanied Scott on his Plateau Journey in the Discovery days. The
following account of the motors' chequered career is from his diary, and
for permission to include here both it and the story of the adventures of
the Second Return Party, an extraordinarily vivid and simple narrative, I
cannot be too grateful.
After the motors had been two days on the sea-ice on their way to Hut
Point Lashly writes on 26th October 1911:
"Kicked off at 9.30; engine going well, surface much better, dropped one
can of petrol each and lubricating oil, lunched about two miles from Hut
Point. Captain Scott and supporting party came from Cape Evans to help us
over blue ice, but they were not required. Got away again after lunch but
was delayed by the other sledge not being able to get along, it is
beginning to dawn on me the sledges are not powerful enough for the work
as it is one continual drag over this sea-ice, perhaps it will improve on
the barrier, it seems we are going to be troubled with engine
overheating; after we have run about three-quarters to a mile it is
necessary to stop at least half an hour to cool the engine down, then we
have to close up for a few minutes to allow the carbrutta to warm up or
we can't get the petrol to vaporize; we are getting new experiences every
day. We arrived at Hut Point and proceeded to Cape Armitage it having
come on to snow pretty thickly, so we pitched our tent and waited for the
other car to come up, she has been delayed all the afternoon and not made
much headway. At 6.30 Mr. Bowers and Mr. Garrard came out to us and told
us to come back to Hut Point for the night, where we all enjoyed
ourselves with a good hoosh and a nice night with all hands.
"_27th October 1911._
"This morning being fine made our way out to the cars and got them going
after a bit of trouble, the temperature being a bit low. I got away in
good style, the surface seems to be improving, it is better for running
on but very rough and the overheating is not overcome nor likely to be as
far as I can see. Just before arriving at the Barrier my car began to
develop some strange knocking in the engine, but with the help of the
party with us I managed to get on the Barrier, the other car got up the
slope in fine style and waited for me to come up; as my engine is giving
trouble we decided to camp, have lunch and see what is the matter. On
opening the crank chamber we found the crank brasses broke into little
pieces, so there is nothing left to do but replace them with the spare
ones; of course this meant a cold job for Mr. Day and myself, as handling
metal on the Barrier is not a thing one looks forward to with pleasure.
Anyhow we set about it after Lieutenant Evans and Hooper had rigged up a
screen to shelter us a bit, and by 10 P.M. we were finished and ready to
proceed, but owing to a very low temperature we found it difficult to get
the engines to go, so we decided to camp for the night.
"_28th October 1911._
"Turned out and had another go at starting which took some little time
owing again to the low temperature. We got away but again the trouble is
always staring us in the face, overheating, and the surface is so bad and
the pull so heavy and constant that it looks we are in for a rough time.
We are continually waiting for one another to come up, and every time we
stop something has to be done, my fan got jammed and delayed us some
time, but have got it right again. Mr. Evans had to go back for his spare
gear owing to some one [not] bringing it out in mistake; he had a good
tramp as we were about 15 miles out from Hut Point.
"_29th October 1911._
"Again we got away, but did not get far before the other car began to
give trouble. I went back to see what was the matter, it seems the petrol
is dirty due perhaps to putting in a new drum, anyhow got her up and
camped for lunch. After lunch made a move, and all seemed to be going
well when Mr. Day's car gave out at the crank brasses the same as mine,
so we shall have to see what is the next best thing to do.
"_30th October 1911._
"This morning before getting the car on the way had to reconstruct our
loads as Mr. Day's car is finished and no more use for further service.
We have got all four of us with one car now, things seems to be going
fairly well, but we are still troubled with the overheating which means
to say half our time is wasted. We can see dawning on us the harness
before long. We covered seven miles and camped for the night. We are now
about six miles from Corner Camp.
"_31st October 1911._
"Got away with difficulty, and nearly reached Corner Camp, but the
weather was unkind and forced us to camp early. One thing we have been
able to bring along a good supply of pony food and most of the man food,
but so far the motor sledges have proved a failure.
"_1st November 1911._
"Started away with the usual amount of agony, and soon arrived at Corner
Camp where we left a note to Captain Scott explaining the cause of our
breakdown. I told Mr. Evans to say this sledge won't go much farther.
After getting about a mile past Corner Camp my engine gave out finally,
so here is an end to the motor sledges. I can't say I am sorry because I
am not, and the others are, I think, of the same opinion as myself. We
have had a heavy task pulling the heavy sledges up every time we stopped,
which was pretty frequent, even now we have to start man-hauling we shall
not be much more tired than we have already been at night when we had
finished. Now comes the man-hauling part of the show, after reorganizing
our sledge and taking aboard all the man food we can pull, we started
with 190 lbs. per man, a strong head wind made it a bit uncomfortable for
getting along, anyhow we made good about three miles and camped for the
night. The surface not being very good made the travelling a bit heavy.
"After three days' man-hauling.
"_5th November 1911._
"Made good about 14½ miles, if the surface would only remain as it is
now we could get along pretty well. We are now thinking of the ponies
being on their way, hope they will get better luck than we had with the
motor sledges, but by what I can see they will have a tough time of it.
"_6th November 1911._
"To-day we have worked hard and covered a good distance 12 miles, surface
rough but slippery, all seems to be going pretty well, but we have
generally had enough by the time comes for us to camp.
"_7th November 1911._
"We have again made good progress, but the light was very trying,
sometimes we could not see at all where we were going. I tried to find
some of the Cairns that were built by the Depôt Party last year, came
upon one this afternoon which is about 20 miles from One Ton Depôt, so at
the rate we have been travelling we ought to reach there some time
to-morrow night. Temperature to-day was pretty low, but we are beginning
to get hardened into it now.
"_8th November 1911._
"Made a good start, but the surface is getting softer every day and makes
our legs ache; we arrived at One Ton Depôt and camped. Then proceeded to
dig out some of the provisions, we have to take on all the man food we
can, this is a wild-looking place no doubt, have not seen anything of the
ponies.
"_9th November 1911._
"To-day we have started on the second stage of our journey. Our orders
are to proceed one degree south of One Ton Depôt and wait for the ponies
and dogs to come up with us; as we have been making good distances each
day, the party will hardly overtake us, but we have found to-day the load
is much heavier to drag. We have just over 200 lbs. per man, and we have
been brought up on several occasions, and to start again required a
pretty good strain on the rope, anyhow we done 10½ miles, a pretty good
show considering all things.
"_10th November 1911._
"Again we started off with plenty of vim, but it was jolly tough work,
and it begins to tell on all of us; the surface to-day is covered with
soft crystals which don't improve things. To-night Hooper is pretty well
done up, but he have stuck it well and I hope he will, although he could
not tackle the food in the best of spirits, we know he wanted it. Mr.
Evans, Mr. Day and myself could eat more, as we are just beginning to
feel the tightening of the belt. Made good 11¼ miles and we are now
building cairns all the way, one about three miles: then again at lunch
and one in the afternoon and one at night. This will keep us employed.
"_11th November 1911._
"To-day it has been very heavy work. The surface is very bad and we are
pretty well full up, but not with food; man-hauling is no doubt the
hardest work one can do, no wonder the motor sledges could not stand it.
I have been thinking of the trials I witnessed of the motor engines in
Wolseley's works in Birmingham, they were pretty stiff but nothing
compared to the drag of a heavy load on the Barrier surface.
"_12th November 1911._
"To-day have been similar to the two previous days, but the light have
been bad and snow have been falling which do not improve the surface; we
have been doing 10 miles a day Geographical and quite enough too as we
have all had enough by time it goes Camp.
"_13th November 1911._
"The weather seems to be on the change. Should not be surprised if we
don't get a blizzard before long, but of course we don't want that.
Hooper seems a bit fagged but he sticks it pretty well. Mr. Day keeps on
plodding, his only complaint is should like a little more to eat.
"_14th November 1911._
"When we started this morning Mr. Evans said we had about 15 miles to go
to reach the required distance. The hauling have been about the same,
but the weather is somewhat finer and the blizzard gone off. We did 10
miles and camped; have not seen anything of the main party yet but shall
not be surprised to see them at any time.
"_15th November 1911._
"We are camped after doing five miles where we are supposed to be [lat.
80° 32´]; now we have to wait the others coming up. Mr. Evans is quite
proud to think we have arrived before the others caught us, but we don't
expect they will be long although we have nothing to be ashamed of as our
daily distance have been good. We have built a large cairn this afternoon
before turning in. The weather is cold but excellent."
* * * * *
They waited there six days before the pony party arrived, when the Upper
Barrier Depôt (Mount Hooper) was left in the cairn.
FOOTNOTES:
[168] My own diary.
[169] Ibid.
[170] Ibid.
[171] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 361.
[172] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. ii. p. 293.
[173] Ibid. pp. 291-297; written by Lieutenant Evans.
[174] Ibid. vol. i. p. 409.
[175] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 403.
[176] Ibid. p. 404.
[177] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 425.
[178] Ibid. p. 437.
[179] Ibid. p. 429.
[180] Ibid. p. 438.
CHAPTER IX
THE POLAR JOURNEY
Come, my friends,
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
TENNYSON, _Ulysses._
Take it all in all it is wonderful that the South Pole was
reached so soon after the North Pole had been conquered. From
Cape Columbia to the North Pole, straight going, is 413
geographical miles, and Peary who took on his expedition 246
dogs, covered this distance in 37 days. From Hut Point to the
South Pole and back is 1532 geographical or 1766 statute miles,
the distance to the top of the Beardmore Glacier alone being more
than 100 miles farther than Peary had to cover to the North Pole.
Scott travelled from Hut Point to the South Pole in 75 days, and
to the Pole and back to his last camp in 147 days, a period of
five months. A. C.-G.
(All miles are geographical unless otherwise stated.)
I. THE BARRIER STAGE
The departure from Cape Evans at 11 P.M. on November 1 is described by
Griffith Taylor, who started a few days later on the second Geological
Journey with his own party:
"On the 31st October the pony parties started. Two weak ponies led by
Atkinson and Keohane were sent off first at 4.30, and I accompanied them
for about a mile. Keohane's pony rejoiced in the name of Jimmy Pigg, and
he stepped out much better than his fleeter-named mate Jehu. We heard
through the telephone of their safe arrival at Hut Point.
"Next morning the Southern Party finished their mail, posting it in the
packing case on Atkinson's bunk, and then at 11 A.M. the last party were
ready for the Pole. They had packed the sledges overnight, and they took
20 lbs. personal baggage. The Owner had asked me what book he should
take. He wanted something fairly filling. I recommended Tyndall's
Glaciers--if he wouldn't find it 'coolish.' He didn't fancy this! So then
I said, 'Why not take Browning, as I'm doing?' And I believe that he did
so.
"Wright's pony was the first harnessed to its sledge. Chinaman is Jehu's
rival for last place, and as some compensation is easy to harness. Seaman
Evans led Snatcher, who used to rush ahead and take the lead as soon as
he was harnessed. Cherry had Michael, a steady goer, and Wilson led
Nobby--the pony rescued from the killer whales in March. Scott led out
Snippets to the sledges, and harnessed him to the foremost, with little
Anton's help--only it turned out to be Bowers' sledge! However he
transferred in a few minutes and marched off rapidly to the south.
Christopher, as usual, behaved like a demon. First they had to trice his
front leg up tight under his shoulder, then it took five minutes to throw
him. The sledge was brought up and he was harnessed in while his head was
held down on the floe. Finally he rose up, still on three legs, and
started off galloping as well as he was able. After several violent kicks
his foreleg was released, and after more watch-spring flicks with his
hind legs he set off fairly steadily. Titus can't stop him when once he
has started, and will have to do the fifteen miles in one lap probably!
"Dear old Titus--that was my last memory of him. Imperturbable as ever;
never hasty, never angry, but soothing that vicious animal, and
determined to get the best out of most unpromising material in his
endeavour to do his simple duty.
"Bowers was last to leave. His pony, Victor, nervous but not vicious, was
soon in the traces. I ran to the end of the Cape and watched the little
cavalcade--already strung out into remote units--rapidly fade into the
lonely white waste to southward.
"That evening I had a chat with Wilson over the telephone from the
Discovery Hut--my last communication with those five gallant
spirits."[181]
All the ponies arrived at Hut Point by 4 P.M., just in time to escape a
stiff blow. Three of them were housed with ourselves inside the hut, the
rest being put into the verandah. The march showed that with their loads
the speed of the different ponies varied to such an extent that
individuals were soon separated by miles. "It reminded me of a regatta or
a somewhat disorganized fleet with ships of very unequal speed."[182]
It was decided to change to night marching, and the following evening we
proceeded in the following order, which was the way of our going for the
present. The three slowest ponies started first, namely, Jehu with
Atkinson, Chinaman with Wright, James Pigg with Keohane. This party was
known as the Baltic Fleet.
Two hours later Scott's party followed; Scott with Snippets, Wilson with
Nobby, and myself with Michael.
Both these parties camped for lunch in the middle of the night's march.
After another hour the remaining four men set to work to get Christopher
into his sledge; when he was started they harnessed in their own ponies
as quickly as possible and followed, making a non-stop run right through
the night's march. It was bad for men and ponies, but it was impossible
to camp in the middle of the march owing to Christopher. The composition
of this party was, Oates with Christopher, Bowers with Victor, Seaman
Evans with Snatcher, Crean with Bones.
Each of these three parties was self-contained with tent, cooker and
weekly bag, and the times of starting were so planned that the three
parties arrived at the end of the march about the same time.
There was a strong head wind and low drift as we rounded Cape Armitage on
our way to the Barrier and the future. Probably there were few of us who
did not wonder when we should see the old familiar place again.
Scott's party camped at Safety Camp as the Baltic fleet were getting
under weigh again. Soon afterwards Ponting appeared with a dog sledge and
a cinematograph,--how anomalous it seemed--which "was up in time to catch
the flying rearguard which came along in fine form, Snatcher leading and
being stopped every now and again--a wonderful little beast. Christopher
had given the usual trouble when harnessed, but was evidently subdued by
the Barrier Surface. However, it was not thought advisable to halt him,
and so the party fled through in the wake of the advance guard."[183]
Immediately afterwards Scott's party packed up. "Good-bye and good luck,"
from Ponting, a wave of the hand not holding in a frisky pony and we had
left the last link with the hut. "The future is in the lap of the gods; I
can think of nothing left undone to deserve success."[184]
The general scheme was to average 10 miles (11.5 statute) a day from Hut
Point to One Ton Depôt with the ponies lightly laden. From One Ton to the
Gateway a daily average of 13 miles (15 statute) was necessary to carry
twenty-four weekly units of food for four men each to the bottom of the
glacier. This was the Barrier Stage of the journey, a distance of 369
miles (425 statute) as actually run on our sledge-meter. The twenty-four
weekly units of food were to carry the Polar Party and two supporting
parties forward to their farthest point, and back again to the bottom of
the Beardmore, where three more units were to be left in a depôt.[185]
All went well this first day on the Barrier, and encouraging messages
left on empty petrol drums told us that the motors were going well when
they passed. But the next day we passed five petrol drums which had been
dumped. This meant that there was trouble, and some 14 miles from Hut
Point we learned that the big end of the No. 2 cylinder of Day's motor
had broken, and half a mile beyond we found the motor itself, drifted up
with snow, and looking a mournful wreck. The next day's march (Sunday,
November 5, A.M.) brought us to Corner Camp. There were a few legs down
crevasses during the day but nothing to worry about.
From here we could see to the South an ominous mark in the snow which we
hoped might not prove to be the second motor. It was: "the big end of No.
1 cylinder had cracked, the machine otherwise in good order. Evidently
the engines are not fitted to working in this climate, a fact that should
be certainly capable of correction. One thing is proved; the system of
propulsion is altogether satisfactory."[186] And again: "It is a
disappointment. I had hoped better of the machines once they got away on
the Barrier Surface."[187]
Scott had set his heart upon the success of the motors. He had run them
in Norway and Switzerland; and everything was done that care and
forethought could suggest. At the back of his mind, I feel sure, was the
wish to abolish the cruelty which the use of ponies and dogs necessarily
entails. "A small measure of success will be enough to show their
possibilities, their ability to revolutionize polar transport. Seeing the
machines at work to-day [leaving Cape Evans] and remembering that every
defect so far shown is purely mechanical, it is impossible not to be
convinced of their value. But the trifling mechanical defects and lack of
experience show the risk of cutting out trials. A season of experiment
with a small workshop at hand may be all that stands between success and
failure."[188] I do not believe that Scott built high hopes on these
motors: but it was a chance to help those who followed him. Scott was
always trying to do that.
Did they succeed or fail? They certainly did not help us much, the motor
which travelled farthest drawing a heavy load to just beyond Corner Camp.
But even so fifty statute miles is fifty miles, and that they did it at
all was an enormous advance. The distance travelled included hard and
soft surfaces, and we found later when the snow bridges fell in during
the summer that this car had crossed safely some broad crevasses. Also
they worked in temperatures down to -30° Fahr. All this was to the good,
for no motor-driven machine had travelled on the Barrier before. The
general design seemed to be right, all that was now wanted was
experience. As an experiment they were successful in the South, but Scott
never knew their true possibilities; for they were the direct ancestors
of the 'tanks' in France.
Night-marching had its advantages and disadvantages. The ponies were
pulling in the colder part of the day and resting in the warm, which was
good. Their coats dried well in the sun, and after a few days to get
accustomed to the new conditions, they slept and fed in comparative
comfort. On the other hand the pulling surface was undoubtedly better
when the sun was high and the temperature warmer. Taking one thing with
another there was no doubt that night-marching was better for ponies, but
we seldom if ever tried it man-hauling.
[Illustration: CAMP ON THE BARRIER--E. A. Wilson, del.]
Just now there was an amazing difference between day and night
conditions. At midnight one was making short work of everything, nursing
fingers after doing up harness with minus temperatures and nasty cold
winds: by supper time the next morning we were sitting on our sledges
writing up our diaries or meteorological logs, and even dabbling our bare
toes in the snow, but not for long! Shades of darkness! How different all
this was from what we had been through. My personal impression of this
early summer sledging on the Barrier was one of constant wonder at its
comfort. One had forgotten that a tent could be warm and a sleeping-bag
dry: so deep were the contrary impressions that only actual experience
was convincing. "It is a sweltering day, the air breathless, the glare
intense--one loses sight of the fact that the temperature is low [-22°],
one's mind seeks comparison in hot sunlit streets and scorching
pavements, yet six hours ago my thumb was frost-bitten. All the
inconveniences of frozen footwear and damp clothes and sleeping-bags have
vanished entirely."[189]
We could not expect to get through this windy area of Corner Camp without
some bad weather. The wind-blown surface improved, the ponies took their
heavier loads with ease, but as we came to our next camp it was banking
up to the S.E. and the breeze freshened almost immediately. We built pony
walls hurriedly and by the time we had finished supper it was blowing
force 5 (A.M. November 6, Camp 4). There was a moderate gale with some
drift all day which increased to force 8 with more drift at night. It was
impossible to march. The drift took off a bit the next morning, and
Meares and Dimitri with the two dog-teams appeared and camped astern of
us. This was according to previous plan by which the dog-teams were to
start after us and catch us up, since they travelled faster than the
ponies. "The snow and drift necessitated digging out ponies again and
again to keep them well sheltered from the wind. The walls made a
splendid lee, but some sledges at the extremities were buried altogether,
and our tent being rather close to windward of our wall got the back eddy
and was continually being snowed up above the door. After noon the snow
ceased except for surface drift. Snatcher knocked his section of the wall
over, and Jehu did so more than ever. All ponies looked pretty miserable,
as in spite of the shelter they were bunged up, eyes and all, in drift
which had become ice and could not be removed without considerable
difficulty."[190]
Towards evening it ceased drifting altogether, but a wind, force 4, kept
up with disconcerting regularity. Eventually Atkinson's party got away at
midnight. "Castle Rock is still visible, but will be closed by the north
end of White Island in the next march--then good-bye to the old landmarks
for many a long day."[191]
The next day (November 8-9) "started at midnight and had a very pleasant
march. Truly sledging in such weather is great. Mounts Discovery and
Morning, which we gradually closed, looked fine in the general panorama
of mountains. We are now nearly abreast the north end of the Bluff. We
all came up to camp together this morning: it looked like a meet of the
hounds, and Jehu ran away!!!"[192]
The next march was just the opposite. Wind force 5 to 6 and falling snow.
"The surface was very slippery in parts and on the hard sastrugi it was a
case of falling or stumbling continually. The light got so bad that one
might have been walking in the clouds for all that could be discerned,
and yet it was only snowing slightly. The Bluff became completely
obscured, and the usual signs of a blizzard were accentuated.
"At lunch camp Scott packed up and followed us. We overhauled Atkinson
about 1½ hours later, he having camped, and we were not sorry, as in
addition to marching against a fresh southerly breeze the light brought a
tremendous strain on the eyes in following tracks."[193] A little more
than eight miles for the day's total.
We carried these depressing conditions for three more marches, that is
till the morning of November 13. The surface was wretched, the weather
horrid, the snow persistent, covering everything with soft downy flakes,
inch upon inch, and mile upon mile. There are glimpses of despondency in
the diaries. "If this should come as an exception, our luck will be truly
awful. The camp is very silent and cheerless, signs that things are going
awry."[194] "The weather was horrid, overcast, gloomy, snowy. One's
spirits became very low."[195] "I expected these marches to be a little
difficult, but not near so bad as to-day."[196] Indefinite conditions
always tried Scott most: positive disasters put him into more cheerful
spirits than most. In the big gale coming South when the ship nearly
sank, and when we lost one of the cherished motors through the sea-ice,
his was one of the few cheerful faces I saw. Even when the ship ran
aground off Cape Evans he was not despondent. But this kind of thing
irked him. Bowers wrote: "The unpleasant weather and bad surface, and
Chinaman's indisposition, combined to make the outlook unpleasant, and on
arrival [in camp] I was not surprised to find that Scott had a grievance.
He felt that in arranging the consumption of forage his own unit had not
been favoured with the same reduction as ours, in fact accused me of
putting upon his three horses to save my own. We went through the weights
in detail after our meal, and, after a certain amount of argument,
decided to carry on as we were going. I can quite understand his
feelings, and after our experience of last year a bad day like this makes
him fear our beasts are going to fail us. The Talent [i.e. the doctors]
examined Chinaman, who begins to show signs of wear. Poor ancient little
beggar, he ought to be a pensioner instead of finishing his days on a job
of this sort. Jehu looks pretty rocky too, but seeing that we did not
expect him to reach the Glacier Tongue, and that he has now done more
than 100 miles from Cape Evans, one really does not know what to expect
of these creatures. Certainly Titus thinks, as he has always said, that
they are the most unsuitable scrap-heap crowd of unfit creatures that
could possibly be got together."[197]
"The weather was about as poisonous as one could wish; a fresh breeze and
driving snow from the E. with an awful surface. The recently fallen snow
thickly covered the ground with powdery stuff that the unfortunate ponies
fairly wallowed in. If it was only ourselves to consider I should not
mind a bit, but to see our best ponies being hit like this at the start
is most distressing. A single march like that of last night must shorten
their usefulness by days, and here we are a fortnight out, and barely
one-third of the distance to the glacier covered, with every pony showing
signs of wear. Victor looks a lean and lanky beast compared with his
condition two weeks ago."[198]
But the ponies began to go better; and it was about this time that Jehu
was styled the Barrier Wonder, and Chinaman the Thunderbolt. "Our four
ponies have suffered most," writes Bowers. "I don't agree with Titus that
it is best to march them right through without a lunch camp. They were
undoubtedly pretty tired, and worst of all did not go their feeds
properly. It was a fine warm morning for them (Nov. 13); +15°, our
warmest temperature hitherto. In the afternoon it came on to snow in
large flakes like one would get at home. I have never seen such snow down
here before; it makes the surface very bad for the sledges. The ponies'
manes and rugs were covered in little knots of ice."
The next march (November 13-14) was rather better, though the going was
very deep and heavy, and all the ponies were showing signs of wear and
tear. This was followed by a delightfully warm day, and all the animals
were standing drowsily in the sunshine. We could see the land far away
behind us, the first sight of land we had had for many days. On November
15 we reached One Ton Depôt, having travelled a hundred and thirty miles
from Hut Point.
The two sledges left standing were still upright, and the tattered
remains of a flag flapped over the main cairn. In a salt tin lashed to
the bamboo flag-pole was a note from Lieutenant Evans to say that he had
gone on with the motor party five days before, and would continue
man-hauling to 80° 30´ S. and await us there. "He has done something over
30 miles in 2½ days--exceedingly good going."[199] We dug out the cairn,
which we found just as we had left it except that there was a big tongue
of drift, level with the top of the cairn to leeward, and running about
150 yards to N.E., showing that the prevailing wind here is S.W. Nine
months before we had sprinkled some oats on the surface of the snow
hoping to get a measurement of the accretion of snow during the winter.
Unfortunately we were unable to find the oats again, but other evidence
went to show that the snow deposit was very small. A minimum thermometer
which was lashed with great care to a framework registered -73°. After
the temperatures already experienced by us on the Barrier during the
winter and spring this was surprisingly high, especially as our minimum
temperatures were taken under the sledge, which means that the
thermometer is shaded from radiation, while this thermometer at One Ton
was left open to the sky. On the Winter Journey we found that a shaded
thermometer registered -69° when an unshaded one registered -75°, a
difference of 6°. All the provisions left here were found to be in
excellent condition.
We then had a prolonged council of war. This meant that Scott called
Bowers, and perhaps Oates, into our tent after supper was finished in the
morning. Somehow these conferences were always rather serio-comic. On
this occasion, as was usually the case, the question was ponies. It was
decided to wait here one day and rest them, as there was ample food. The
main discussion centred round the amount of forage to be taken on from
here, while the state of the ponies, the amount they could pull and the
distance they could go had to be taken into consideration.
"Oates thinks the ponies will get through, but that they have lost
condition quicker than he expected. Considering his usually pessimistic
attitude this must be thought a hopeful view. Personally I am much more
hopeful. I think that a good many of the beasts are actually in better
form than when they started, and that there is no need to be alarmed
about the remainder, always excepting the weak ones which we have always
regarded with doubt. Well, we must wait and see how things go."[200]
The decision made was to take just enough food to get the ponies to the
glacier, allowing for the killing of some of them before that date. It
was obvious that Jehu and Chinaman could not go very much farther, and
it was also necessary that ponies should be killed in order to feed the
dogs. The two dog-teams were carrying about a week's pony food, but they
were unable to advance more than a fortnight from One Ton without killing
ponies.
This decision practically meant that Scott abandoned the idea of taking
ponies up the glacier. This was a great relief, for the crevassed state
of the lower reaches of the glacier as described by Shackleton led us to
believe that the attempt was suicidal. All the winter our brains were
exercised to try and devise some method by which the ponies could be
driven from behind, and by which the connection between pony and sledge
could be loosed if the pony fell into a crevasse, but I confess that
there seemed little chance of this happening. From all we saw of the
glacier I am convinced that there is no reasonable chance of getting
ponies up it, and that dogs could only be driven down it if the way up
was most carefully surveyed and kept on the return. I am sure that in
this kind of uncertainty the mental strain on the leader of a party is
less than that on his men. The leader knows quite well what he thinks
worth while risking or not: in this case Scott probably was always of the
opinion that it would not be worth while taking ponies on to the glacier.
The pony leaders, however, only knew that the possibility was ahead of
them. I can remember now the relief with which we heard that it was not
intended that Wilson should take Nobby, the fittest of our ponies,
farther than the Gateway.
Up to now Christopher had lived up to his reputation, as the following
extracts from Bowers' diary will show: "Three times we downed him, and he
got up and threw us about, with all four of us hanging on like grim
death. He nearly had me under him once; he seems fearfully strong, but it
is a pity he wastes so much good energy.... Christopher, as usual, was
strapped on three legs and then got down on his knees. He gets more
cunning each time, and if he does not succeed in biting or kicking one of
us before long it won't be his fault. He finds the soft snow does not
hurt his knees like the sea-ice, and so plunges about on them _ad lib_.
One's finnesko are so slippery that it is difficult to exert full
strength on him, and to-day he bowled Oates over and got away altogether.
Fortunately the lashing on his fourth leg held fast, and we were able to
secure him when he rejoined the other animals. Finally he lay down, and
thought he had defeated us, but we had the sledge connected up by that
time, and as he got up we rushed him forward before he had time to kick
over the traces.... Dimitri came and gave us a hand with Chris. Three of
us hung on to him while the other two connected up the sledge. We had a
struggle for over twenty minutes, and he managed to tread on me, but no
damage done.... Got Chris in by a dodge. Titus did away with his back
strap, and nearly had him away unaided before he realized that the hated
sledge was fast to him. Unfortunately he started off just too soon, and
bolted with only one trace fast. This pivoted him to starboard, and he
charged the line. I expected a mix-up, but he stopped at the wall between
Bones and Snatcher, and we cast off and cleared sledge before trying
again. By laying the traces down the side of the sledge instead of ahead
we got him off his guard again, and he was away before he knew what had
occurred.... We had a bad time with Chris again. He remembered having
been bluffed before, and could not be got near the sledge at all. Three
times he broke away, but fortunately he always ran back among the other
ponies, and not out on to the Barrier. Finally we had to down him, and he
was so tired with his recent struggles that after one abortive attempt we
got him fast and away."
Meanwhile it was not so much the difficulties of sledging as the
depressing blank conditions in which our march was so often made, that
gave us such troubles as we had. The routine of a tent makes a lot of
difference. Scott's tent was a comfortable one to live in, and I was
always glad when I was told to join it, and sorry to leave. He was
himself extraordinarily quick, and no time was ever lost by his party in
camping or breaking camp. He was most careful, some said over-careful
but I do not think so, that everything should be neat and shipshape, and
there was a recognized place for everything. On the Depôt Journey we were
bidden to see that every particle of snow was beaten off our clothing and
finnesko before entering the tent: if it was drifting we had to do this
after entering and the snow was carefully cleared off the floor-cloth.
Afterwards each tent was supplied with a small brush with which to
perform this office. In addition to other obvious advantages this
materially helped to keep clothing, finnesko, and sleeping-bags dry, and
thus prolong the life of furs. "After all is said and done," said Wilson
one day after supper, "the best sledger is the man who sees what has to
be done, and does it--and says nothing about it." Scott agreed. And if
you were "sledging with the Owner" you had to keep your eyes wide open
for the little things which cropped up, and do them quickly, and say
nothing about them. There is nothing so irritating as the man who is
always coming in and informing all and sundry that he has repaired his
sledge, or built a wall, or filled the cooker, or mended his socks.
I moved into Scott's tent for the first time in the middle of the Depôt
Journey, and was enormously impressed by the comfort which a careful
routine of this nature evoked. There was a homelike air about the tent at
supper time, and, though a lunch camp in the middle of the night is
always rather bleak, there was never anything slovenly. Another thing
which struck me even more forcibly was the cooking. We were of course on
just the same ration as the tent from which I had come. I was hungry and
said so. "Bad cooking," said Wilson shortly; and so it was. For in two or
three days the sharpest edge was off my hunger. Wilson and Scott had
learned many a cooking tip in the past, and, instead of the same old meal
day by day, the weekly ration was so manoeuvred by a clever cook that
it was seldom quite the same meal. Sometimes pemmican plain, or thicker
pemmican with some arrowroot mixed with it: at others we surrendered a
biscuit and a half apiece and had a dry hoosh, i.e. biscuit fried in
pemmican with a little water added, and a good big cup of cocoa to
follow. Dry hooshes also saved oil. There were cocoa and tea upon which
to ring the changes, or better still 'teaco' which combined the
stimulating qualities of tea with the food value of cocoa. Then much
could be done with the dessert-spoonful of raisins which was our daily
whack. They were good soaked in the tea, but best perhaps in with the
biscuits and pemmican as a dry hoosh. "You are going far to earn my
undying gratitude, Cherry," was a satisfied remark of Scott one evening
when, having saved, unbeknownst to my companions, some of their daily
ration of cocoa, arrowroot, sugar and raisins, I made a "chocolate
hoosh." But I am afraid he had indigestion next morning. There were meals
when we had interesting little talks, as when I find in my diary that:
"we had a jolly lunch meal, discussing authors. Barrie, Galsworthy and
others are personal friends of Scott. Some one told Max Beerbohm that he
was like Captain Scott, and immediately, so Scott assured us, he grew a
beard."
But about three weeks out the topics of conversation became threadbare.
From then onwards it was often that whole days passed without
conversation beyond the routine Camp ho! All ready? Pack up. Spell ho.
The latter after some two hours' pulling. When man-hauling we used to
start pulling immediately we had the tent down, the sledge packed and our
harness over our bodies and ski on our feet. After about a quarter of an
hour the effects of the marching would be felt in the warming of hands
and feet and the consequent thawing of our mitts and finnesko. We then
halted long enough for everybody to adjust their ski and clothing: then
on, perhaps for two hours or more, before we halted again.
Since it had been decided to lighten the ponies' weights, we left at
least 100 lbs. of pony forage behind when we started from One Ton on the
night of November 16-17 on our first 13-mile march. This was a distinct
saving, and instead of 695 lbs. each with which the six stronger ponies
left Corner Camp, they now pulled only 625 lbs. Jehu had only 455 lbs.
and Chinaman 448 lbs. The dog-teams had 860 lbs. of pony food between
them, and according to plan the two teams were to carry 1570 lbs. from
One Ton between them. These weights included the sledges, with straps and
fittings, which weighed about 45 lbs.
Summer seemed long in coming for we marched into a considerable breeze
and the temperature was -18°. Oates and Seaman Evans had quite a crop of
frost-bites. I pointed out to Meares that his nose was gone; but he left
it, saying that he had got tired of it, and it would thaw out by and by.
The ponies were going better for their rest. The next day's march was
over crusty snow with a layer of loose powdery snow at the top, and a
temperature of -21° was chilly. Towards the end of it Scott got
frightened that the ponies were not going as well as they should. Another
council of war was held, and it was decided that an average of thirteen
miles a day must be done at all costs, and that another sack of forage
should be dumped here, putting the ponies on short rations later, if
necessary. Oates agreed, but said the ponies were going better than he
expected: that Jehu and Chinaman might go a week, and almost certainly
would go three days. Bowers was always against this dumping. Meanwhile
Scott wrote: "It's touch and go whether we scrape up to the glacier;
meanwhile we get along somehow."[201]
[Illustration: PARHELIA--E. A. Wilson, del.]
As a result of one of Christopher's tantrums Bowers records that his
sledge-meter was carried away this morning: "I took my sledge-meter into
the tent after breakfast and rigged up a fancy lashing with raw hide
thongs so as to give it the necessary play with security. A splendid
parhelia exhibition was caused by the ice-crystals. Round the sun was a
22° halo [that is a halo 22° from the sun's image], with four mock suns
in rainbow colours, and outside this another halo in complete rainbow
colours. Above the sun were the arcs of two other circles touching these
halos, and the arcs of the great all-round circle could be seen faintly
on either side. Below was a dome-shaped glare of white which contained an
exaggerated mock sun, which was as dazzling as the sun himself.
Altogether a fine example of a pretty common phenomenon down here."
And the next day: "We saw the party ahead in inverted mirage some
distance above their heads."
In the next three marches we covered our daily 13 miles, for the most
part without very great difficulty. But poor Jehu was in a bad way,
stopping every few hundred yards. It was a funereal business for the
leaders of these crock ponies; and at this stage of the journey Atkinson,
Wright and Keohane had many more difficulties than most of us, and the
success of their ponies was largely due to their patience and care.
Incidentally big icicles formed upon the ponies' noses during the march
and Chinaman used Wright's windproof blouse as a handkerchief. During the
last of these marches, that is on the morning of November 21, we saw a
massive cairn ahead, and found there the motor party, consisting of
Lieutenant Evans, Day, Lashly and Hooper. The cairn was in 80° 32´, and
under the name Mount Hooper formed our Upper Barrier Depôt. We left there
three S (summit) rations, two cases of emergency biscuits and two cases
of oil, which constituted three weekly food units for the three parties
which were to advance from the bottom of the Beardmore Glacier. This food
was to take them back from 80° 32´ to One Ton Camp. We all camped for the
night 3 miles farther on: sixteen men, five tents, ten ponies,
twenty-three dogs and thirteen sledges.
The man-hauling party had been waiting for six days; and, having expected
us before, were getting anxious about us. They declared that they were
very hungry, and Day, who was always long and thin, looked quite gaunt.
Some spare biscuits which we gave them from our tent were carried off
with gratitude. The rest of us who were driving dogs or leading ponies
still found our Barrier ration satisfying.
We had now been out three weeks and had travelled 192 miles, and formed a
very good idea as to what the ponies could do. The crocks had done
wonderfully:--"We hope Jehu will last three days; he will then be
finished in any case and fed to the dogs. It is amusing to see Meares
looking eagerly for the chance of a feed for his animals; he has been
expecting it daily. On the other hand, Atkinson and Oates are eager to
get the poor animal beyond the point at which Shackleton killed his first
beast. Reports on Chinaman are very favourable, and it really looks as
though the ponies are going to do what is hoped of them."[202] From first
to last Nobby, who was rescued from the floe, was the strongest pony we
had, and was now drawing a heavier load than any other pony by 50 lbs. He
was a well-shaped, contented kind of animal, misnamed a pony. Indeed
several of our beasts were too large to fit this description.
Christopher, of course, was wearing himself out quicker than most, but
all of them had lost a lot of weight in spite of the fact that they had
all the oats and oil-cake they could eat. Bowers writes of his pony:
"Victor, my pony, has taken to leading the line, like his opposite number
last season. He is a steady goer, and as gentle as a dear old sheep. I
can hardly realize the strenuous times I had with him only a month ago,
when it took about four of us to get him harnessed to a sledge, and two
of us every time with all our strength to keep him from bolting when in
it. Even at the start of the journey he was as nearly unmanageable as any
beast could be, and always liable to bolt from sheer excess of spirits.
He is more sober now after three weeks of featureless Barrier, but I
think I am more fond of him than ever. He has lost his rotundity, like
all the other horses, and is a long-legged, angular beast, very ugly as
horses go, but still I would not change him for any other."
The ponies were fed by their leaders at the lunch and supper halts, and
by Oates and Bowers during the sleep halt about four hours before we
marched. Several of them developed a troublesome habit of swinging their
nosebags off, some as soon as they were put on, others in their anxiety
to reach the corn still left uneaten in the bottom of the bag. We had to
lash their bags on to their headstalls. "Victor got hold of his head rope
yesterday, and devoured it: not because he is hungry, as he won't eat all
his allowance even now."[203]
The original intention was that Day and Hooper should return from 80°
30´, but it was now decided that their unit of four should remain intact
for a few days, and constitute a light man-hauling advance party to make
the track.
The weather was much more pleasant and we saw the sun most days, while I
note only one temperature below -20° since leaving One Ton. The ponies
sank in a cruel distance some days, but we were certainly not overworking
them and they had as much food as they could eat. We knew the grim part
was to come, but we never realized how grim it was to be. From this
Northern Barrier Depôt the ponies were mostly drawing less than 500 lbs.
and we had hopes of getting through to the glacier without much
difficulty. All depended on the weather, and just now it was glorious,
and the ponies were going steadily together. Jehu, the crockiest of the
crocks, was led back along the track and shot on the evening of November
24, having reached a point at least 15 miles beyond that where Shackleton
shot his first pony. When it is considered that it was doubtful whether
he could start at all this must be conceded to have been a triumph of
horse-management in which both Oates and Atkinson shared, though neither
so much as Jehu himself, for he must have had a good spirit to have
dragged his poor body so far. "A year's care and good feeding, three
weeks' work with good treatment, a reasonable load and a good ration, and
then a painless end. If anybody can call that cruel I cannot either
understand it or agree with them." Thus Bowers, who continues: "The
midnight sun reflected from the snow has started to burn my face and
lips. I smear them with hazeline before turning in, and find it a good
thing. Wearing goggles has absolutely prevented any recurrence of
snow-blindness. Captain Scott says they make me see everything through
rose-coloured spectacles."
We said good-bye to Day and Hooper next morning, and they set their faces
northwards and homewards.[204] Two-men parties on the Barrier are not
much fun. Day had certainly done his best about the motors and they had
helped us over a bad bit of initial surface. That night Scott wrote:
"Only a few more marches to feel safe in getting to our goal."[205] At
the lunch halt on November 26, in lat. 81° 35´, we left our Middle
Barrier Depôt, containing one week's provisions for each returning unit
as at Mount Hooper, a reduction of 200 lbs. in our weights. The march
that day was very trying. "It is always rather dismal work walking over
the great snow plain when sky and surface merge in one pall of dead
whiteness, but it is cheering to be in such good company with everything
going on steadily and well."[206]
There was no doubt that the animals were tiring, and "a tired animal
makes a tired man, I find."[207] The next day (November 28) was no
better: "the most dismal start imaginable. Thick as a hedge, snow falling
and drifting with keen southerly wind."[208]
Bowers notes: "We have now run down a whole degree of latitude without a
fine day, or anything but clouds, mist, and driving snow from the south."
We certainly did have some difficult marches, one of the worst effects of
which was that we knew we must be making a winding course and we had to
pick up our depôts on the return somehow. Here is a typical bad morning
from Bowers' diary:
"The first four miles of the march were utter misery for me, as Victor,
either through lassitude or because he did not like having to plug into
the wind, went as slow as a funeral horse. The light was so bad that
wearing goggles was most necessary, and the driving snow filled them up
as fast as you cleared them. I dropped a long way astern of the
cavalcade, could hardly see them at times through the snow, but the fear
that Victor, of all the beasts, should give out was like a nightmare. I
have always been used to starting later than the others by a quarter of a
mile, and catching them up. At the four-mile cairn I was about fed up to
the neck with it, but I said very little as everybody was so disgusted
with the weather and things in general that I saw that I was not the only
one in tribulation. Victor turned up trumps after that. He stepped out
and led the line in his old place, and at a good swinging pace
considering the surface, my temper and spirits improving at every step.
In the afternoon he went splendidly again, and finished up by rolling in
the snow when I had taken his harness off, a thing he has not done for
ten or twelve days. It certainly does not look like exhaustion!"
Indeed these days we were fighting for our marches, and Chinaman who was
killed this night seemed well out of it. He reached a point less than 90
miles from the glacier, though this was small comfort to him.
Stumbling and groping our way along as we had been during the last
blizzard we were totally unprepared for the sight which met us during our
next march on November 29. The great ramp of mountains which ran to the
west of us, and would soon bar our way to the South, partly cleared: and
right on top of us it seemed were the triple peaks of Mount Markham.
After some 300 miles of bleak, monotonous Barrier it was a wonderful
sight indeed. We camped at night in latitude 82° 21´ S., four miles
beyond Scott's previous Farthest South in 1902. Then they had the best of
luck in clear fine weather, which Shackleton has also recorded at this
stage of his southern journey.
It is curious to see how depressed all our diaries become when this bad
weather obtained, and how quickly we must have cheered up whenever the
sun came out. There is no doubt that a similar effect was produced upon
the ponies. Truth to tell, the mental strain upon those responsible was
very great in these early days, and there is little of outside interest
to relieve the mind. The crystal surface which was an invisible carpet
yesterday becomes a shining glorious sheet of many colours to-day: the
irregularities which caused you so many falls are now quite clear and you
step on or over them without a thought: and when there is added some of
the most wonderful scenery in the world it is hard to recall in the
enjoyment of the present how irritable and weary you felt only twenty
hours ago. The whisper of the sledge, the hiss of the primus, the smell
of the hoosh and the soft folds of your sleeping-bag: how jolly they can
all be, and generally were.
I would that I could once again
Around the cooker sit
And hearken to its soft refrain
And feel so jolly fit.
Instead of home-life's silken chains,
The uneventful round,
I long to be mid snow-swept plains,
In harness, outward bound.
With the pad, pad, pad, of fin'skoed feet,
With two hundred pounds per man,
Not enough hoosh or biscuit to eat,
Well done, lads! Up tent! Outspan.
(NELSON in _The South Polar Times._)
Certainly as we skirted these mountains, range upon range, during the
next two marches (November 30 and December 1), we felt we could have
little cause for complaint. They brought us to lat. 82° 47´ S., and here
we left our last depôt on the Barrier, called the Southern Barrier Depôt,
with a week's ration for each returning party as usual. "The man food is
enough for one week for each returning unit of four men, the next depôt
beyond being the Middle Barrier Depôt, 73 miles north. As we ought easily
to do over 100 miles a week on the return journey, there is little
likelihood of our having to go on short commons if all goes well."[209]
And this was what we all felt--until we found the Polar Party. This was
our twenty-seventh camp, and we had been out a month.
[Illustration: THE MOUNTAINS WHICH LIE BETWEEN THE BARRIER AND THE
PLATEAU AS SEEN ON DECEMBER 1, 1911--From the drawings by Dr. E. A.
Wilson, Emery Walker Limited, Collotypers.]
It was important that we should have fine clear weather during the next
few days when we should be approaching the land. On his previous southern
journey Scott had been prevented from reaching the range of mountains
which ran along to our right by a huge chasm. This phenomenon is known to
geologists as a shear crack and is formed by the movement of a glacier
away from the land which bounds it. In this case a mass of many hundred
miles of Barrier has moved away from the mountains, and the disturbance
is correspondingly great. Shackleton has described how he approached the
Gateway, as he named the passage between Mount Hope and the mainland, by
means of which he passed through on to the Beardmore Glacier. As he and
his companions were exploring the way they came upon an enormous chasm,
80 feet wide and 300 feet deep, which barred their path. Moving along to
the right they found a place where the chasm was filled with snow, and
here they crossed to the land some miles ahead. At our Southern Barrier
Depôt we reckoned we were some forty-four miles from this Gateway and in
three more marches we hoped to be camped under this land.
Christopher was shot at the depôt. He was the only pony who did not die
instantaneously. Perhaps Oates was not so calm as usual, for Chris was
his own horse though such a brute. Just as Oates fired he moved, and
charged into the camp with the bullet in his head. He was caught with
difficulty, nearly giving Keohane a bad bite, led back and finished. We
were well rid of him: while he was strong he fought, and once the Barrier
had tamed him, as we were not able to do, he never pulled a fair load. He
could have gone several more days, but there was not enough pony food to
take all the animals forward. We began to wonder if we had done right to
leave so much behind. Each pony provided at least four days' food for the
dog-teams, some of them more, and there was quite a lot of fat on
them--even on Jehu. This was comforting, as going to prove that their
hardships were not too great. Also we put the undercut into our own
hoosh, and it was very good, though we had little oil to cook it.
We had been starting later each night, in order that the transition from
night to day marching might be gradual. For we intended to march by day
when we started pulling up the glacier, and there were no ponies to rest
when the sun was high. It may be said therefore that our next march was
on December 2.
Before we started Scott walked over to Bowers. "I have come to a decision
which will shock you." Victor was to go at the end of the march, because
pony food was running so short. Birdie wrote at the end of the day:--He
"did a splendid march and kept ahead all day, and as usual marched into
camp first, pulling over 450 lbs. easily. It seemed an awful pity to have
to shoot a great strong animal, and it seemed like the irony of fate to
me, as I had been downed for over-provisioning the ponies with needless
excess of food, and the drastic reductions had been made against my
strenuous opposition up to the last. It is poor satisfaction to me to
know that I was right now that my horse is dead. Good old Victor! He has
always had a biscuit out of my ration, and he ate his last before the
bullet sent him to his rest. Here ends my second horse in 83° S., not
quite so tragically as my first when the sea-ice broke up, but none the
less I feel sorry for a beast that has been my constant companion and
care for so long. He has done his share in our undertaking anyhow, and
may I do my share as well when I get into harness myself.
"The snow has started to fall over his bleak resting-place, and it looks
like a blizzard. The outlook is dark, stormy and threatening."
Indeed it had been a dismal march into a blank white wall, and the ponies
were sinking badly in the snow, leaving holes a full foot deep. The
temperature was +17° and the flakes of snow melted when they lay on the
dark colours of the tents and our furs. After building the pony walls
water was running down our windproofs.
I note "we are doing well on pony meat and go to bed very content."
Notwithstanding the fact that we could not do more than heat the meat by
throwing it into the pemmican we found it sweet and good, though tough.
The man-hauling party consisted of Lieut. Evans and Lashly who had lost
their motors, and Atkinson and Wright who had lost their ponies. They
were really quite hungry by now, and most of us pretty well looked
forward to our meals and kept a biscuit to eat in our bags if we could.
The pony meat therefore came as a relief. I think we ought to have
depôted more of it on the cairns. As it was, what we did not eat was
given to the dogs. With some tins of extra oil and a depôted pony the
Polar Party would probably have got home in safety.
On December 3 we roused out at 2.30 A.M. It was thick and snowy. As we
breakfasted the blizzard started from the south-east, and was soon
blowing force 9, a full gale, with heavy drift. "The strongest wind I
have known here in summer."[210] It was impossible to start, but we
turned out and made up the pony walls in heavy drift, one of them being
blown down three times. By 1.30 P.M. the sun was shining, and the land
was clear. We started at 2, with what we thought was Mount Hope showing
up ahead, but soon great snow-clouds were banking up and in two hours we
were walking in a deep gloom which made it difficult to find the track
made by the man-hauling party ahead. By the time we reached the cairn,
which was always built at the end of the first four miles, it was blowing
hard from the N.N.W. of all the unlikely quarters of the compass. Bowers
and Scott were on ski.
"I put on my windproof blouse and nosed out the track for two miles, when
we suddenly came upon the tent of the leading party. They had camped
owing to the difficulty of steering a course in such thick weather. The
ponies, however, with the wind abaft the beam were going along
splendidly, and Scott thought it worth while to shove on. We therefore
carried on another four miles, making ten in all, a good half march,
before we camped. On ski it was simply ripping, except for the inability
to see anything at all. With the wind behind, and the good sliding
surface made by the wind-hardened snow, one fairly slithered along.
Camping was less pleasant as it was blowing a gale by that time. We are
all in our bags again now, with a good hot meal inside one, and blow high
or blow low one might be in a worse place than a reindeer bag."[211]
It was all right for the people on ski (and this in itself gave us a
certain sense of grievance), but things had not been so easy with the
ponies, who were sinking very deeply in places, while we ourselves were
sinking well over our ankles. This day we began to cross the great
undulations in the Barrier, with the crests some mile apart, which here
mark the approach to the land. We had built the walls to the north of the
ponies on camping, because the wind was from that direction, but by
breakfast on December 4 it was blowing a thick blizzard from the
south-east. We began to feel bewildered by these extraordinary weather
changes, and not a little exasperated too. Again we could not march, and
again we had to dig out the sledges and ponies, and to move them all
round to the other side of the walls which we had partly to rebuild. "Oh
for the simple man-hauling life!" was our thought, and "poor helpless
beasts--this is no country for live stock." By this time we could not see
the neighbouring tents for the drift. The situation was not improved by
the fact that our tent doors, the tents having been pitched for the
strong north wind then blowing, were now facing the blizzard, and sheets
of snow entered with each individual. The man-hauling party came up just
before the worst of the blizzard started. The dogs alone were
comfortable, buried deep beneath the drifted snow. The sailors began to
debate who was the Jonah. They said he was the cameras. The great
blizzard was brewing all about us.
But at mid-day as though a curtain was rolled back, the thick snow fog
cleared off, while at the same time the wind fell calm, and a great
mountain appeared almost on the top of us. Far away to the south-east we
could distinguish, by looking very carefully, a break in the level
Barrier horizon--a new mountain which we reckoned must be at least in
latitude 86° and very high. Towards it the ranges stretched away, peak
upon peak, range upon range, as far as the eye could see. "The mountains
surpassed anything I have ever seen: beside the least of these giants Ben
Nevis would be a mere mound, and yet they are so immense as to dwarf each
other. They are intersected at every turn with mighty glaciers and
ice-falls and eternally ice-filled valleys that defy description. So
clear was everything that every rock seemed to stand out, and the effect
of the sun as he came round (between us and the mountains) was to make
the scene still more beautiful."[212]
Altogether we marched eleven miles this day, and camped right in front of
the Gateway, which we reckoned to be some thirteen miles away. We saw no
crevasses but crossed ten or twelve very large undulations, and estimated
that the dips between them were twelve to fifteen feet. Mount Hope was
bigger than we expected, and beyond it, stretching out into the Barrier
as far as we could see, was a great white line of jagged edges, the chaos
of pressure which this vast glacier makes as it flows into the
comparatively stationary ice of the Barrier.
My own pony Michael was shot after we came into camp. He was as
attractive a little beast as we had. His light weight helped him on soft
surfaces, but his small hoofs let him in farther than most and I notice
in Scott's diary that on November 19 the ponies were sinking half-way to
the hock, and Michael once or twice almost to the hock itself. A highly
strung, spirited animal, his off days took the form of fidgets, during
which he would be constantly trying to stop and eat snow, and then rush
forward to catch up the other ponies. Life was a constant source of
wonder to him, and no movement in the camp escaped his notice. Before we
had been long on the Barrier he developed mischievous habits and became a
rope eater and gnawer of other ponies' fringes, as we called the coloured
tassels we hung over their eyes to ward off snow-blindness. However, he
was by no means the only culprit, and he lost his own fringe to Nobby
quite early in the proceedings. It was not that he was hungry, for he
never quite finished his own feed. At any rate he enjoyed the few weeks
before he died, pricking up his ears and getting quite excited when
anything happened, and the arrival of the dog-teams each morning after he
had been tethered sent him to bed with much to dream of. And I must say
his master dreamed pretty regularly too. Michael was killed right in
front of the Gateway on December 4, just before the big blizzard, which,
though we did not know it, was on the point of breaking upon us, and he
was untying his cloth and chewing up everything he could reach to the
last. "It was decided after we camped, and he had his feed already on:
Meares reported that he had no more food for the dogs. He walked away,
and rolled in the snow on the way down, not having done so when we got
in. He was just like a naughty child all the way, and pulled all out. He
has been a good friend, and has a good record, 82° 23´ S. He was a bit
done to-day: the blizzard had knocked him. Gallant little Michael!"[213]
As we got into our bags the mountain tops were fuzzy with drift. We
wanted one clear day to get across the chasm: one short march and the
ponies' task was done. Their food was nearly finished. Scott wrote that
night: "We are practically through with the first stage of our
journey."[214]
"Tuesday, December 5. Camp 30. Noon. We awoke this morning to a raging
howling blizzard. The blows we have had hitherto have lacked the very
fine powdering snow, that especial feature of the blizzard. To-day we
have it fully developed. After a minute or two in the open one is covered
from head to foot. The temperature is high, so that what falls or drives
against one sticks. The ponies--heads, tails, legs and all parts not
protected by their rugs--are covered with ice; the animals are standing
deep in snow, the sledges are almost covered, and huge drifts above the
tents. We have had breakfast, rebuilt the walls, and are now again in our
bags. One cannot see the next tent, let alone the land. What on earth
does such weather mean at this time of year? It is more than our share of
ill-fortune, I think, but the luck may turn yet....
"11 P.M. It has blown hard all day with quite the greatest snowfall I
remember. The drifts about the tents are simply huge. The temperature was
-27° this forenoon, and rose to +31° in the afternoon, at which time the
snow melted as it fell on anything but the snow, and, as a consequence,
there are pools of water on everything, the tents are wet through, also
the wind-clothes, night-boots, etc.; water drips from the tent poles and
door, lies on the floor-cloth, soaks the sleeping-bags, and makes
everything pretty wretched. If a cold snap follows before we have had
time to dry our things, we shall be mighty uncomfortable. Yet after all
it would be humorous enough if it were not for the seriousness of
delay--we can't afford that, and it's real hard luck that it should come
at such a time. The wind shows signs of easing down, but the temperature
does not fall and the snow is as wet as ever, not promising signs of
abatement.
"Wednesday, December 6. Camp 30. Noon. Miserable, utterly miserable. We
have camped in the 'Slough of Despond.' The tempest rages with unabated
violence. The temperature has gone to +33°; everything in the tent is
soaking. People returning from the outside look exactly as though they
had been in a heavy shower of rain. They drip pools on the floor-cloth.
The snow is steadily climbing higher about walls, ponies, tents and
sledges. The ponies look utterly desolate. Oh! But this is too crushing,
and we are only 12 miles from the glacier. A hopeless feeling descends on
one and is hard to fight off. What immense patience is needed for such
occasions!"[215]
Bowers describes the situation as follows:
"It is blowing a blizzard such as one might expect to be driven at us by
all the powers of darkness. It may be interesting to describe it, as it
is my first experience of a really warm blizzard, and I hope to be
troubled by cold ones only, or at least moderate ones only, in future as
regards temperature.
"When I swung the thermometer this morning I looked and looked again, but
unmistakably the temperature was +33°F., above freezing point (out of the
sun's direct rays) for the first time since we came down here. What this
means to us nobody can conceive. We try to treat it as a huge joke, but
our wretched condition might be amusing to read of it later. We are wet
through, our tents are wet, our bags which are our life to us and the
objects of our greatest care, are wet; the poor ponies are soaked and
shivering far more than they would be ordinarily in a temperature fifty
degrees lower. Our sledges--the parts that are dug out--are wet, our food
is wet, everything on and around and about us is the same--wet as
ourselves and our cold, clammy clothes. Water trickles down the tent
poles and only forms icicles in contact with the snow floor. The warmth
of our bodies has formed a snow bath in the floor for each of us to lie
in. This is a nice little catchwater for stray streams to run into before
they freeze. This they cannot do while a warm human lies there, so they
remain liquid and the accommodating bag mops them up. When we go out to
do the duties of life, fill the cooker, etc., for the next meal, dig out
or feed the ponies, or anything else, we are bunged up with snow. Not the
driving, sandlike snow we are used to, but great slushy flakes that run
down in water immediately and stream off you. The drifts are tremendous,
the rest of the show is indescribable. I feel most for the unfortunate
animals and am thankful that poor old Victor is spared this. I mended a
pair of half mitts to-day, and we are having two meals instead of three.
This idleness when one is simply jumping to go on is bad enough for most,
but must be worse for Captain Scott. I feel glad that he has Dr. Bill
(Wilson) in his tent; there is something always so reassuring about Bill,
he comes out best in adversity."[216]
"Thursday, December 7. Camp 30. The storm continues and the situation is
now serious. One small feed remains for the ponies after to-day, so that
we must either march to-morrow or sacrifice the animals. That is not the
worst; with the help of the dogs we could get on, without doubt. The
serious part is that we have this morning started our Summit
rations--that is to say, the food calculated from the Glacier Depôt has
been begun. The first supporting party can only go on a fortnight from
this date and so forth."[217]
[Illustration: A PONY CAMP ON THE BARRIER]
[Illustration: THE DOG TEAMS LEAVING THE BEARDMORE GLACIER]
This day was just as warm, and wetter--much wetter. The temperature was
+35.5°, and our bags were like sponges. The huge drifts had covered
everything, including most of the tent, the pony walls and sledges. At
intervals we dug our way out and dug up the wretched ponies, and got them
on to the top again. "Henceforward our full ration will be 16 oz.
biscuit, 12 oz. pemmican, 2 oz. butter, 0.57 oz. cocoa, 3.0 oz. sugar and
0.86 oz. tea. This is the Summit ration, total 34.43 oz., with a little
onion powder and salt. I am all for this: Seaman Evans and others are
much regretting the loss of chocolate, raisins and cereals. For the first
week up the glacier we are to go one biscuit short to provision Meares on
the way back. The motors depôted too much and Meares has been brought on
far farther than his orders were originally bringing him. Originally he
was to be back at Hut Point on December 10. The dogs, however, are
getting all the horse that is good for them, and are very fit. He has to
average 24 miles a day going back. Michael is well out of this: we are
now eating him. He was in excellent condition and tastes very good,
though tough."[218]
By this time there was little sleep left for us as we lay in our
sleeping-bags. Three days generally see these blizzards out, and we hoped
much from Friday, December 8. But when we breakfasted at 10 A.M. (we were
getting into day-marching routine) wind and snow were monotonously the
same. The temperature rose to +34.3°. These temperatures and those
recorded by Meares on his way home must be a record for the interior of
the Barrier. So far as we were concerned it did not much matter now
whether it was +40° or +34°. Things did look really gloomy that morning.
But at noon there came a gleam of comfort. The wind dropped, and
immediately we were out plunging about, always up to our knees in soft
downy snow, and often much farther. First we shifted our tents, digging
them up with the greatest care that the shovel might not tear them. The
valances were encased in solid ice from the water which had run down.
Then we started to find our sledges which were about four feet down: they
were dragged out, and everything on them was wringing wet. There was a
gleam of sunshine, which soon gave place to snow and gloom, but we
started to make experiments in haulage. Four men on ski managed to move a
sledge with four others sitting upon it. Nobby was led out, but sank to
his belly. As for the drifts I saw Oates standing behind one, and only
his head appeared, and this was all loose snow.
"We are all sitting round now after some tea--it is much better than
getting into the bags. I can hardly think that the ponies can pull on,
but Titus thinks they can pull to-morrow; all the food is finished, and
what they have had to-day was only what they would not eat out of their
last feed yesterday. It is a terrible end--driven to death on no more
food, to be then cut up, poor devils. I have swopped the Little Minister
with Silas Wright for Dante's Inferno!"[219] The steady patter of the
falling snow upon the tents was depressing as we turned in, but the
temperature was below freezing.
The next morning (Saturday, December 9) we turned out to a cloudy snowy
day at 5.30 A.M. By 8.30 we had hauled the sledges some way out of the
camp and started to lead out the ponies. "The horses could hardly move,
sank up to their bellies, and finally lay down. They had to be driven,
lashed on. It was a grim business."[220]
My impressions of that day are of groping our way, for Bowers and I were
pulling a light sledge ahead to make the track, through a vague white
wall. First a confused crowd of men behind us gathered round the leading
pony sledge, pushing it forward, the poor beast barely able to struggle
out of the holes it made as it plunged forward. The others were induced
to follow, and after a start had been made the regular man-hauling party
went back to fetch their load. There was not one man there who would
willingly have caused pain to a living thing. But what else was to be
done--we could not leave our pony depôt in that bog. Hour after hour we
plugged on: and we dare not halt for lunch, we knew we could never start
again. After crossing many waves huge pressure ridges suddenly showed
themselves all round, and we got on to a steep rise with the coastal
chasm on our right hand appearing as a great dip full of enormous
pressure. Scott was naturally worried about crevasses, and though we knew
there was a way through, the finding of it in the gloom was most
difficult. For two hours we zig-zagged about, getting forward it is true,
but much bewildered, and once at any rate almost bogged. Scott joined us,
and we took off our ski so as to find the crevasses, and if possible a
hard way through. Every step we sank about fifteen inches, and often
above our knees. Meanwhile Snatcher was saving the situation in
snow-shoes, and led the line of ponies. Snippets nearly fell back into a
big crevasse, into which his hind quarters fell: but they managed to
unharness him, and scramble him out.
I do not know how long we had been going when Scott decided to follow the
chasm. We found a big dip with hard ice underneath, and it was probably
here that we made the crossing: we could now see the ring of pressure
behind us. Almost it was decided to make the depôt here, but the ponies
still plugged on in the most plucky way, though they had to be driven.
Scott settled to go as far as they could be induced to march, and they
did wonderfully. We had never thought that they would go a mile: but
painfully they marched for eleven hours without a long halt, and covered
a distance which we then estimated at seven miles. But our sledge-meters
were useless being clogged with the soft snow, and we afterwards came to
believe the distance was not so great: probably not more than five. When
we had reached a point some two miles from the top of the snow divide
which fills the Gateway we camped, thankful to rest, but more thankful
still that we need drive those weary ponies no more. Their rest was near.
It was a horrid business, and the place was known as Shambles Camp.
Oates came up to Scott as he stood in the shadow of Mount Hope. "Well! I
congratulate you, Titus," said Wilson. "And _I_ thank you, Titus," said
Scott.
And that was the end of the Barrier Stage.
FOOTNOTES:
[181] Taylor, with Scott, _The Silver Lining_, pp. 325-326.
[182] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 448.
[183] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 449.
[184] Ibid. p. 446.
[185] See pp. 350, 552-556.
[186] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 453.
[187] Ibid. p. 452.
[188] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 438-439.
[189] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 450.
[190] Bowers.
[191] Bowers.
[192] My own diary.
[193] Bowers.
[194] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 463.
[195] Ibid. p. 462.
[196] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 461.
[197] Bowers.
[198] Bowers.
[199] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 465.
[200] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 465.
[201] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 468.
[202] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. pp. 470, 471.
[203] Bowers.
[204] A note to Cape Evans is as follows:--MY DEAR SIMPSON. This
goes with Day and Hooper now returning. We are making fair
progress and the ponies doing fairly well. I hope we shall
get through to the glacier without difficulty, but to make
sure I am carrying the dog-teams farther than I intended at
first--the teams may be late returning, unfit for further
work or non-existent....--R. SCOTT.
[205] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 474.
[206] Ibid. p. 475.
[207] Ibid. p. 476.
[208] Ibid. p. 476.
[209] Bowers.
[210] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 483.
[211] Bowers.
[212] Bowers.
[213] My own diary.
[214] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 486.
[215] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. pp. 486-489.
[216] Bowers.
[217] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 489.
[218] My own diary.
[219] My own diary.
[220] Ibid.
CHAPTER X
THE POLAR JOURNEY (_continued_)
The Southern Journey involves the most important object of the
Expedition.... One cannot affect to be blind to the situation:
the scientific public, as well as the more general public, will
gauge the result of the scientific work of the Expedition largely
in accordance with the success or failure of the main object.
With success all roads will be made easy, all work will receive
its proper consideration. With failure even the most brilliant
work may be neglected and forgotten, at least for a time.--SCOTT.
II. THE BEARDMORE GLACIER
The ponies had dragged twenty-four weekly units of food for four men to
some five miles from the bottom of the glacier, but we were late. For
some days we had been eating the Summit ration, that is the food which
should not have been touched until the Glacier Depôt had been laid, and
we were still a day's run from the place where this was to be done: it
was of course the result of the blizzard which no one could have expected
in December, usually one of the two most settled months. Still more
serious was the deep snow which lay like down upon the surface, and into
which we sank commonly to our knees, our sledges digging themselves in
until the crosspieces were ploughing through the drift. Shackleton had
fine weather, and found blue ice in the bottom reaches of the glacier,
and Scott lamented what was unquestionably bad luck.
It was noon of December 10 before we had made the readjustments necessary
for man-hauling. We left here pony meat for man and dog food, three
ten-foot sledges, one twelve-foot sledge, and a good many oddments of
clothing and pony gear. We started with three four-man teams, each
pulling for these first few miles about 500 lbs., as follows: (I) Scott,
Wilson, Oates, Seaman Evans: (II) Lieut. Evans, Atkinson, Wright, Lashly:
(III) Bowers, Cherry-Garrard, Crean, Keohane. The team numbered (II) had
been man-hauling together some days, and two members of it, Lieut. Evans
and Lashly, had already been man-hauling since the breakdown of the
second motor at Corner Camp; it was certainly not so fit as the other
two. In addition to these three sledges the two dog-teams, which had been
doing splendid work, were carrying 600 lbs. of our weight as well as the
provisions for the Lower Glacier Depôt, weighing 200 lbs. It began to
look as if Amundsen had chosen the right form of transport.
The Gateway is a gap in the mountains, a side door, as it were, to the
great tumbled glacier. By lunch we were on the top of the divide, but it
took six hours of the hardest hauling to cover the mile which formed the
rise. As long as possible we stuck to ski, but we reached a point at
which we could not move the sledges on ski: once we had taken them off we
were up to our knees, and the sledges were ploughing the snow which would
not support them. But our gear was drying in the bright sunshine, our
bags were spread out at every opportunity, and the great jagged cliffs of
red granite were welcome to the eyes after 425 statute miles of snow. The
Gateway is filled by a giant snowdrift which has been formed between
Mount Hope on our left and the mainland on our right. From Shackleton's
book we gathered that the Beardmore was a very bad glacier indeed. Once
on the top of the divide we lunched, and we descended in the evening,
camping at midnight on the edge of the glacier, which we found, as we had
feared, covered with soft snow which was so deep as to give no indication
whatever of the hard ice which Shackleton found here. "We camped in
considerable drift and a blizzard wind, which is still blowing, and I
hope will go on, for every hour it is sweeping away inches of this soft
powdery snow into which we have been sinking all day."[221]
Before setting out on December 11 we rigged up the Lower Glacier Depôt,
three weekly Summit units of provisions, two cases of emergency biscuit
which was the ration for three weekly units, and two cans of oil. These
provisions were calculated to carry the three returning parties as far as
the Southern Barrier Depôt. We also left one can of spirit, used for
lighting the primus, one bottle of medical brandy and certain spare and
personal gear not required. On the sledges themselves we stowed eighteen
weekly Summit units, besides the three ready bags containing the ration
for the current week, and the complement of biscuit, for this was ten
cases in addition to the three boxes of biscuit which the three parties
were using. Then there were eighteen cans of oil, with two cans of
lighting spirit and a little additional Christmas fare which Bowers had
packed. Every unit of food was worked out for four men for one week.
[Illustration: TRANSIT SKETCH FOR THE LOWER GLACIER DEPÔT.--E. A. Wilson,
del. Emery Walker Limited, Collotypers.]
During this time of deep snow the sledge-meters would not work and we
were compelled to estimate the distance marched each day. "It has been a
tremendous slog, but I think a most hopeful day. Before starting it took
us about two hours to make the depôt and then we got straight into the
midst of the big pressure. The dogs, with ten cases of biscuit, came
behind and pulled very well. We soon caught sight of a big boulder, and
Bill and I roped up and went over to it. It was a block of very coarse
granite, nearly gneiss, with large crystals of quartz in it, rusty
outside and quite pinkish when chipped, and with veins of quartz running
through it. It was a vast thing to be carried along on the ice, and
looked very typical of the rock round. Instead of keeping under the great
cliff where Shackleton made his depôt, we steered for Mount Kyffin, that
is towards the middle of the glacier, until lunch, when we had probably
done about two or three miles. There was a crevasse wherever we went, but
we managed to pull on ski and had no one down, and the deep snow saved
the dogs."[222] The dog-teams were certainly running very big risks that
morning. They turned back after lunch, having been brought on far
longer than had been originally intended, for, as I have said, they were
to have been back at Hut Point before now, and their provision allowance
would not allow of further advance. Perhaps we rather overestimated the
dogs' capacities when Bowers wrote: "The dogs are wonderfully fit and
will rush Meares and Dimitri back like the wind. I expect he will be
nearly back by Christmas, as they will do about thirty miles a day." But
Meares told us when we got back to the hut that the dogs had by no means
had an easy journey home. Now, however, "with a whirl and a rush they
were off on the homeward trail. I could not see them (being snow-blind),
but heard the familiar orders as the last of our animal transport left
us."[223]
Our difficulties during the next four days were increased by the
snow-blindness of half the men. The evening we reached the glacier Bowers
wrote: "I am afraid I am going to pay dearly for not wearing goggles
yesterday when piloting the ponies. My right eye has gone bung, and my
left one is pretty dicky. If I am in for a dose of snow glare it will
take three or four days to leave me, and I am afraid I am in the ditch
this time. It is painful to look at this paper, and my eyes are fairly
burning as if some one had thrown sand into them." And then: "I have
missed my journal for four days, having been enduring the pains of hell
with my eyes as well as doing the most back-breaking work I have ever
come up against.... I was as blind as a bat, and so was Keohane in my
team. Cherry pulled alongside me, with Crean and Keohane behind. By
sticking plaster over my glasses except one small central spot I shut off
most light and could see the points of my ski, but the glasses were
always fogged with perspiration and my eyes kept on streaming water which
cannot be wiped off on the march as a ski stick is held in each hand; and
so heavy were our weights [we had now taken on the weights which had been
on the dog sledges] that if any of the pair slacked a hand even, the
sledge stopped. It was all we could do to keep the sledge moving for
short spells of a few hundred yards, the whole concern sinking so deeply
into the soft snow as to form a snow-plough. The starting was worse than
pulling as it required from ten to fifteen desperate jerks on the harness
to move the sledge at all." Many others were also snowblind, caused
partly by the strain of the last march of the ponies, partly by not
having realized that now that we were day-marching the sun was more
powerful and more precautions should be taken. The cocaine and zinc
sulphate tablets which we had were excellent, but we also found that our
tea leaves, which had been boiled twice and would otherwise have been
thrown away, relieved the pain if tied into some cotton and kept pressed
against the eyes. The tannic acid in the tea acted as an astringent. A
snowblind man can see practically nothing anyhow and so he is not much
worse off if a handkerchief is tied over his eyes.
"_Beardmore Glacier._ Just a tiny note to be taken back by the dogs.
Things are not so rosy as they might be, but we keep our spirits up and
say the luck must turn. This is only to tell you that I find I can keep
up with the rest as well as of old."[224]
[Illustration: MOUNT F. L. SMITH AND THE LAND TO THE NORTH-WEST--E. A.
Wilson, del. Emery Walker Limited, Collotypers.]
Then for the first time we were left with our full loads of 800 lbs. a
sledge. Even Bowers asked Scott whether he was going to try it without
relaying. That night Scott's diary runs:
"It was a very anxious business when we started after lunch, about 4.30.
Could we pull our full loads or not? My own party got away first, and, to
my joy, I found we could make fairly good headway. Every now and again
the sledge sank in a soft patch, which brought us up, but we learned to
treat such occasions with patience. We got sideways to the sledge and
hauled it out, Evans (P.O.) getting out of his ski to get better
purchase. The great thing is to keep the sledge moving, and for an hour
or more there were dozens of critical moments when it all but stopped,
and not a few when it brought up altogether. The latter were very trying
and tiring."[225] Altogether it was an encouraging day and we reckoned we
had made seven miles. Generally it was not Scott's team which made the
heaviest weather these days but on December 12 they were in greater
difficulties than any of us. It was indeed a gruelling day, for the
surface was worse than ever and many men were snow-blind. After five
hours' work in the morning we were about half a mile forward. We were in
a sea of pressure, the waves coming at us from our starboard bow, the
distance between the crests not being very great. We could not have
advanced at all had it not been for our ski: "on foot one sinks to the
knees, and if pulling on a sledge to half way between knee and
thigh."[226]
On December 13, "the sledges sank in over twelve inches, and all the
gear, as well as the thwartship pieces, were acting as breaks. The tugs
and heaves we enjoyed, and the number of times we had to get out of our
ski to upright the sledge, were trifles compared with the strenuous
exertion of every muscle and nerve to keep the wretched drag from
stopping when once under weigh; and then it would stick, and all the
starting operations had to be gone through afresh. We did perhaps half a
mile in the forenoon. Anticipating a better surface in the afternoon we
got a shock. Teddy [Evans] led off half an hour earlier to pilot a way,
and Captain Scott tried some fake with his spare runners [he lashed them
under the sledge to prevent the cross-pieces ploughing the snow] that
involved about an hour's work. We had to continually turn our runners up
to scrape the ice off them, for in these temperatures they are liable to
get warm and melt the snow on them, and that freezes into knobs of ice
which act like sandpaper or spikes on a pair of skates. We bust off
second full of hope having done so well in the forenoon, but pride goeth
[before a fall]. We stuck ten yards from the camp, and nine hours later
found us little more than half a mile on. I have never seen a sledge sink
so. I have never pulled so hard, or so nearly crushed my inside into my
backbone by the everlasting jerking with all my strength on the canvas
band round my unfortunate tummy. We were all in the same boat however.