ON THE HOMEWARD JOURNEY
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll;
I am the master of my fate,
I am the Captain of my soul.--HENLEY.
During the afternoon of Thursday, January 18, they left the Pole 7
miles behind them, and early in the march on the following morning
picked up their outward tracks and a Norwegian cairn. These tracks
they followed until they came to the black flag that had been the
first means of telling them of the Norwegians' success. 'We have
picked this flag up, using the staff for our sail, and are now
camped about 1-1/2 miles further back on our tracks. So that is
the last of the Norwegians for the present.'
In spite of a surface that was absolutely spoilt by crystals they
marched 18-1/2 miles on the Friday, and also easily found the cairns
that they had built; but until they reached Three Degree Depôt
which was still 150 miles away, anxiety, Scott said, could not be
laid to rest.
On the next day they reached their Southern
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Depôt and picked up four days' food. With the wind behind them and
with full sail they went along at a splendid rate in the afternoon,
until they were pulled up by a surface on which drifting snow was
lying in heaps; and then, with the snow clinging to the ski, pulling
became terribly distressing. 'I shall be very glad when Bowers gets
his ski,' Scott wrote at R. 3,[1] 'I'm afraid he must find these
long marches very trying with short legs, but he is an undefeated
little sportsman. I think Oates is feeling the cold and fatigue more
than most of us. It is blowing pretty hard to-night, but with a
good march we have earned one good hoosh and are very comfortable
in the tent. It is everything now to keep up a good marching pace;
I trust we shall be able to do so and catch the ship. Total march,
18-1/2 miles.'
[Footnote 1: A number preceded by R. marks the camps on the return
journey.]
A stiff blizzard with thick snow awaited them on the Sunday morning,
but the weather cleared after mid-day, and they struggled on for
a few very weary hours. At night they had 6 days' food in hand
and 45 miles between them and their next depôt, where they had
left 7 days' food to take them on the go miles to the Three Degree
Depôt. 'Once there we ought to be safe, but we ought to have a day
or two in hand on arrival and may have difficulty with following
the tracks. However, if we can get a rating sight for our watches
to-morrow we should be independent of the tracks at a pinch.'
January 22 brought an added worry in the fact
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that the ski boots were beginning to show signs of wear, but this
was nothing compared with the anxiety Scott began to feel about
Evans on the following day. 'There is no doubt that Evans is a
good deal run down--his fingers are badly blistered and his nose
is rather seriously congested with frequent frost-bites. He is
very much annoyed with himself, which is not a good sign. I think
Wilson, Bowers and I are as fit as possible under the circumstances.
Oates gets cold feet.... We are only about 13 miles from our "Degree
and half" Depôt and should get there tomorrow. The weather seems
to be breaking up. Pray God we have something of a track to follow
to the Three Degree Depôt--once we pick that up we ought to be
right.'
Another blizzard attacked them at mid-day on the morrow, and so,
though only seven miles from their depôt, they were obliged to
camp, for it was impossible to see the tracks. With the prospect
of bad weather and scant food on the tremendous summit journey
in front of them, and with Oates and Evans suffering badly from
frost-bites, Scott had to admit that the situation was going from
bad to worse. But on the next afternoon, they managed to reach the
Half Degree Depôt, and left with 9-1/2 days' provision to carry
them the next 89 miles.
During Friday, January 26, they found their old tracks completely
wiped out, but knowing that there were two cairns at four-mile
intervals they were not anxious until they picked up the first
far on their right, and afterwards Bowers caught a glimpse of the
second which was far on their
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left. 'There is not a sign of our tracks between these cairns,
but the last, marking our night camp of the 6th, No. 59, is in
the belt of hard sastrugi, and I was comforted to see signs of the
track reappearing as we camped. I hope to goodness we can follow
it to-morrow.'
Throughout the early part of the next day's march, however, these
hopes were not realized. Scott and Wilson pulling in front on ski,
the others being on foot, found it very difficult to follow the
track, which constantly disappeared altogether and at the best
could only just be seen.
On the outward journey, owing to the heavy mounds, they had been
compelled to take a very zigzag course, and in consequence the
difficulty of finding signs of it was greatly increased. But by
hook or crook they succeeded in sticking to the old track, and
during the last part of the march they discovered, to their joy
and relief, that it was much easier to follow. Through this march
they were helped on their way by a southerly breeze, and as the
air was at last dry again their tents and equipment began to lose
the icy state caused by the recent blizzards. On the other hand,
they were beginning to feel that more food, especially at lunch,
was becoming more and more necessary, and their sleeping-bags,
although they managed to sleep well enough in them, were slowly
but steadily getting wetter.
On Sunday night, at R. 11, they were only 43 miles
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from their depôt with six days food in hand, after doing a good
march of 16 miles. 'If this goes on and the weather holds we shall
get our depôt without trouble. I shall indeed be glad to get it
on the sledge. We are getting more hungry, there is no doubt. The
lunch meal is beginning to seem inadequate. We are pretty thin,
especially Evans, but none of us are feeling worked out. I doubt
if we could drag heavy loads, but we can keep going with our light
one. We talk of food a good deal more, and shall be glad to open
out on it.
With the wind helping greatly and with no difficulty in finding
the tracks, two splendid marches followed; but on the Tuesday their
position had its serious as well as its bright side, for Wilson
strained a tendon in his leg. 'It has,' Scott wrote, 'given pain
all day and is swollen to-night. Of course, he is full of pluck
over it, but I don't like the idea of such an accident here. To add
to the trouble Evans has dislodged two finger-nails to-night; his
hands are really bad, and to my surprise he shows signs of losing
heart over it. He hasn't been cheerful since the accident.... We
can get along with bad fingers, but it [will be] a mighty serious
thing if Wilson's leg doesn't improve.'
Before lunch on Wednesday, January 31, they picked up the Three
Degree Depôt, and were able slightly to increase their rations,
though not until they reached the pony food depôt could they look
for a 'real feed.' After lunch (January 31) the surface, owing
to sandy crystals, was very bad, and with Wilson
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walking by the sledge to rest his leg as much as possible, pulling
was even more toilsome work than usual. During the afternoon they
picked up Bowers' ski, which he had left on December 31. 'The last
thing we have to find on the summit, thank Heaven! Now we have
only to go north and so shall welcome strong winds.'
Pulling on throughout the next day they reached a lunch cairn,
which had been made when they were only a week out from the Upper
Glacier Depôt. With eight days' food in hand Scott hoped that they
would easily reach it, for their increased food allowance was having
a good effect upon all of them, and Wilson's leg was better. On
the other hand, Evans was still a cause for considerable anxiety.
All went very well during their march to R. 16 on February 2 until
Scott, trying to keep the track and his feet at the same time on
a very slippery surface, came 'an awful purler' on his shoulder.
'It is horribly sore to-night and another sick person added to our
tent--three out of five injured, and the most troublesome surfaces to
come. We shall be lucky if we get through without serious injury....
The extra food is certainly helping us, but we are getting pretty
hungry.... It is time we were off the summit--Pray God another four
days will see us pretty well clear of it. Our bags are getting
very wet and we ought to have more sleep.'
On leaving their sixteenth camp they were within 80 miles or so of
the Upper Glacier Depôt under Mount Darwin, and after exasperating
delays in searching for
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tracks and cairns, they resolved to waste no more time, but to
push due north just as fast as they could. Evans' fingers were
still very bad, and there was little hope that he would be able
for some time to help properly with the work, and on the following
day an accident that entailed the most serious consequences happened.
'Just before lunch,' Scott wrote at R. 18, 'unexpectedly fell into
crevasses, Evans and I together--a second fall for Evans,[1] and I
camped. After lunch saw disturbance ahead.... We went on ski over
hard shiny descending surface. Did very well, especially towards
end of march, covering in all 18.1.... The party is not improving
in condition, especially Evans, who is becoming rather dull and
incapable. Thank the Lord we have good food at each meal, but we
get hungrier in spite of it. Bowers is splendid, full of energy
and bustle all the time.'
[Footnote 1: Wilson afterwards expressed an opinion that Evans injured
his brain by one of these falls.]
On Monday morning a capital advance of over 10 miles was made,
but in the afternoon difficulties again arose to harass them. Huge
pressures and great street crevasses partly open barred their way,
and so they had to steer more and more to the west on a very erratic
course. Camping-time found them still in a very disturbed region,
and although they were within 25 to 30 miles of their depôt there
seemed to be no way through the disturbances that continued to
block their path. On turning out to continue their march they went
straight for Mount Darwin, but almost at once
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found themselves among huge open chasms. To avoid these they turned
northwards between two of them, with the result that they got into
chaotic disturbance. Consequently they were compelled to retrace
their steps for a mile or so, and then striking to the west they
got among a confused sea of sastrugi, in the midst of which they
camped for lunch. A little better fortune attended them in the
afternoon, and at their twentieth camp Scott estimated that they
were anything from 10 to 15 miles off the Upper Glacier Depôt. 'Food
is low and weather uncertain,' he wrote, 'so that many hours of the
day were anxious; but this evening (February 6), though we are not
so far advanced as I expected, the outlook is much more promising.
Evans is the chief anxiety now; his cuts and wounds suppurate, his
nose looks very bad, and altogether he shows considerable signs
of being played out. Things may mend for him on the Glacier, and
his wounds get some respite under warmer conditions. I am indeed
glad to think we shall so soon have done with plateau conditions.
It took us 27 days to reach the Pole and 21 days back--in all 48
days--nearly 7 weeks in low temperature with almost incessant wind.'
February 7, which was to see the end of their summit journey, opened
with a very tiresome march down slopes and over terraces covered
with hard sastrugi. However, they made fairly good progress during
the day, and between six and seven o'clock their depôt was sighted
and soon afterwards they were camped close to it. 'Well,' Scott
wrote at R. 21,
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'we have come through our 7 weeks' ice camp journey and most of
us are fit, but I think another week might have had a very bad
effect on P.O. Evans, who is going steadily downhill.'
On the next morning they started late owing to various re-arrangements
having to be made, and then steered for Mt. Darwin to get specimens.
As Wilson was still unable to use his ski, Bowers went on and got
several specimens of much the same type--a close-grained granite
rock which weathers red; and as soon as Bowers had rejoined the
party they skidded downhill fairly fast, Scott and Bowers (the
leaders) being on ski, Wilson and Oates on foot alongside the sledge,
while Evans was detached.
By lunch-time they were well down towards Mt. Buckley, and decided
to steer for the moraine under the mountain. Having crossed some very
irregular steep slopes with big crevasses, they slid down towards
the rocks, and then they saw that the moraine was so interesting
that, after an advance of some miles had brought escape from the
wind, the decision was made to camp and spend the rest of the day
in geologising.
'It has been extremely interesting. We found ourselves under
perpendicular cliffs of Beacon sandstone, weathering rapidly and
carrying veritable coal seams. From the last Wilson, with his sharp
eyes, has picked several plant impressions, the last a piece of coal
with beautifully traced leaves in layers, also some excellently
preserved impressions of thick stems,
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showing cellular structure. In one place we saw the cast of small
waves in the sand. To-night Bill has got a specimen of limestone
with archeo-cyathus--the trouble is one cannot imagine where the
stone comes from; it is evidently rare, as few specimens occur in
the moraine. There is a good deal of pure white quartz. Altogether
we have had a most interesting afternoon, and the relief of being
out of the wind and in a warmer temperature is inexpressible. I
hope and trust we shall all buck up again now that the conditions
are more favorable.... A lot could be written on the delight of
setting foot on rock after 14 weeks of snow and ice, and nearly
7 out of sight of aught else. It is like going ashore after a sea
voyage.'
On the following morning they kept along the edge of the moraine
to the end of Mt. Buckley, and again stopping to geologise, Wilson
had a great find of vegetable impression in a piece of limestone.
The time spent in collecting these geological specimens from the
Beardmore Glacier, and the labour endured in dragging the additional
35 lbs. to their last camp, were doubtless a heavy price to pay;
but great as the cost was they were more than willing to pay it.
The fossils contained in these specimens, often so inconspicuous
that it is a wonder they were discovered by the collectors, proved
to be the most valuable obtained by the expedition, and promise to
solve completely the questions of the age and past history of this
portion of the Antarctic continent. At night, after a difficult
day among bad ice pressures, Scott almost apologizes for
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being too tired to write any geological notes, and as the sledgemeter
had been unshipped he could not tell the distance they had traversed.
'Very warm on march and we are all pretty tired.... Our food satisfies
now, but we must march to keep on the full ration, and we want rest,
yet we shall pull through all right, D. V. We are by no means worn
out.'
On the night of Friday, February 10, they got some of the sleep
that was so urgently needed, and in consequence there was a great
change for the better in the appearance of everyone. Their progress,
however, was delayed during the next afternoon by driving snow,
which made steering impossible and compelled them to camp. 'We
have two full days' food left,' Scott wrote on the same evening,
'and though our position is uncertain, we are certainly within
two outward marches from the middle glacier depôt. However, if the
weather doesn't clear by to-morrow, we must either march blindly
on or reduce food.'
The conditions on Sunday morning were utterly wretched for the
surface was bad and the light horrible, but they marched on until,
with the light getting worse and worse, they suddenly found themselves
in pressure. Then, unfortunately, they decided to steer east, and
after struggling on for several hours found themselves in a regular
trap. Having for a short time in the earlier part of the day got
on to a good surface, they thought that all was going well and
did not reduce their lunch rations. But half an hour after lunch
they suddenly got into a terrible ice mess.
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For three hours they plunged forward on ski, first thinking that
they were too much to the right, and then too much to the left;
meanwhile the disturbance got worse and worse, and there were moments
when Scott nearly despaired of finding a way out of the awful turmoil
in which they found themselves. At length, arguing that there must
be a way out on the left, they plunged in that direction, only
to find that the surface was more icy and crevassed.
'We could not manage our ski and pulled on foot, falling into crevasses
every minute--most luckily no bad accident. At length we saw a
smoother slope towards the land, pushed for it, but knew it was
a woefully long way from us. The turmoil changed in character,
irregular crevassed surface giving way to huge chasms, closely
packed and most difficult to cross. It was very heavy work, but we
had grown desperate. We won through at 10 P.M., and I write after
12 hours on the march. I _think_ we are on or about the right track
now, but we are still a good number of miles from the depôt, so
we reduced rations to-night. We had three pemmican meals left and
decided to make them into four. To-morrow's lunch must serve for
two if we do not make big progress. It was a test of our endurance
on the march and our fitness with small supper. We have come through
well.'
On leaving R. 25, early on Monday morning, everything went well
in the forenoon and a good march was made over a fair surface. Two
hours before lunch they were cheered by the sight of their night
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camp of December 18 (the day after they had made their depôt), for
this showed them that they were still on the right track. In the
afternoon, refreshed by tea, they started off confidently expecting
to reach their depôt, but by a most unfortunate chance they kept too
far to the left and arrived in a maze of crevasses and fissures.
Afterwards their course became very erratic, and finally, at 9
P.M., they landed in the worst place of all.
'After discussion we decided to camp, and here we are, after a
very short supper and one meal only remaining in the food bag; the
depôt doubtful in locality. We _must_ get there to-morrow. Meanwhile
we are cheerful with an effort.'
On that night, at Camp R. 26, Scott says that they all slept well
in spite of grave anxieties, his own being increased by his visits
outside the tent, when he saw the sky closing over and snow beginning
to fall. At their ordinary hour for getting up the weather was so
thick that they had to remain in their sleeping-bags; but presently
the weather cleared enough for Scott dimly to see the land of the
Cloudmaker. Then they got up and after breakfasting off some tea
and one biscuit, so that they might leave their scanty remaining
meal for even greater emergencies, they started to march through
an awful turmoil of broken ice. In about an hour, however, they
hit upon an old moraine track where the surface was much smoother,
though the fog that was still hanging over everything added to
their difficulties.
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Presently Evans raised their hopes with a shout of depôt ahead, but
it proved to be nothing but a shadow on the ice, and then Wilson
suddenly saw the actual depôt flag. 'It was an immense relief, and
we were soon in possession of our 3-1/2 days' food. The relief to
all is inexpressible; needless to say, we camped and had a meal.'
Marching on in the afternoon Scott kept more to the left, and closed
the mountain until they came to the stone moraines, where Wilson
detached himself and made a collection, while the others advanced
with the sledge. Writing that night (Tuesday, February 13) at 'Camp
R. 27, beside Cloudmaker' Scott says, 'We camped late, abreast the
lower end of the mountain, and had nearly our usual satisfying
supper. Yesterday was the worst experience of the trip and gave a
horrid feeling of insecurity. Now we are right, but we must march.
In future food must be worked so that we do not run so short if the
weather fails us. We mustn't get into a hole like this again....
Bowers has had a very bad attack of snow-blindness, and Wilson
another almost as bad. Evans has no power to assist with camping
work.'
A good march followed to Camp R. 28, and with nearly three days'
food they were about 30 miles away from the Lower Glacier Depôt.
On the other hand, Scott was becoming most gravely concerned about
the condition of the party, and especially about Evans, who seemed
to be going from bad to worse.
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And on the next evening, after a heavy march he wrote, 'We don't
know our distance from the depôt, but imagine about 20 miles. We
are pulling for food and not very strong evidently.... We have
reduced food, also sleep; feeling rather done. Trust 1-1/2 days
or 2 at most will see us at depôt.'
Friday's march brought them within 10 or 12 miles of their depôt,
and with food enough to last them until the next night; but anxiety
about Evans was growing more and more intense. 'Evans has nearly
broken down in brain, we think. He is absolutely changed from his
normal self-reliant self. This morning and this afternoon he stopped
the march on some trivial excuse.... Memory should hold the events
of a very troublesome march with more troubles ahead. Perhaps all
will be well if we can get to our depôt to-morrow fairly early,
but it is anxious work with the sick man.'
On the following morning (Saturday, February 17) Evans looked a
little better after a good sleep, and declared, as he always did,
that he was quite well; but half an hour after he had started in
his place on the traces, he worked his ski shoes adrift and had
to leave the sledge. At the time the surface was awful, the soft
snow, which had recently fallen, clogging the ski and runners at
every step, the sledge groaning, the sky overcast, and the land
hazy. They stopped for about an hour, and then Evans came up again,
but very slowly. Half an hour later he dropped out again on the
same plea, and asked Bowers to lend
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him a piece of string. Scott cautioned him to come on as quickly
as he could, and he gave what seemed to be a cheerful answer. Then
the others were compelled to push on, until abreast the Monument
Rock they halted and, seeing Evans a long way behind, decided to
camp for lunch.
At first there was no alarm, but when they looked out after lunch
and saw him still afar off they were thoroughly frightened, and all
four of them started back on ski. Scott was the first to meet the
poor man, who was on his knees with hands uncovered and frost-bitten
and a wild look in his eyes. When asked what was the matter, he
replied slowly that he didn't know, but thought that he must have
fainted.
They managed to get him on his feet, but after two or three steps
he sank down again and showed every sign of complete collapse.
Then Scott, Wilson and Bowers hastened back for the sledge, while
Oates remained with him.
'When we returned he was practically unconscious, and when we got
him into the tent quite comatose. He died quietly at 12.30 A.M.'
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