CHAPTER XX

The Last March_25_

_Sunday, February_ 18.--R. 32. Temp. -5.5°. At Shambles Camp. We

gave ourselves 5 hours' sleep at the lower glacier depot after the

horrible night, and came on at about 3 to-day to this camp, coming

fairly easily over the divide. Here with plenty of horsemeat we have

had a fine supper, to be followed by others such, and so continue

a more plentiful era if we can keep good marches up. New life seems

to come with greater food almost immediately, but I am anxious about

the Barrier surfaces.

_Monday, February_ 19.--Lunch T. -16°. It was late (past noon)

before we got away to-day, as I gave nearly 8 hours sleep, and much

camp work was done shifting sledges [44] and fitting up new one with

mast, &c., packing horsemeat and personal effects. The surface was

every bit as bad as I expected, the sun shining brightly on it and

its covering of soft loose sandy snow. We have come out about 2'

on the old tracks. Perhaps lucky to have a fine day for this and our

camp work, but we shall want wind or change of sliding conditions to

do anything on such a surface as we have got. I fear there will not

be much change for the next 3 or 4 days.

R. 33. Temp. -17°. We have struggled out 4.6 miles in a short day over

a really terrible surface--it has been like pulling over desert sand,

not the least glide in the world. If this goes on we shall have a bad

time, but I sincerely trust it is only the result of this windless

area close to the coast and that, as we are making steadily outwards,

we shall shortly escape it. It is perhaps premature to be anxious

about covering distance. In all other respects things are improving. We

have our sleeping-bags spread on the sledge and they are drying, but,

above all, we have our full measure of food again. To-night we had

a sort of stew fry of pemmican and horseflesh, and voted it the best

hoosh we had ever had on a sledge journey. The absence of poor Evans

is a help to the commissariat, but if he had been here in a fit state

we might have got along faster. I wonder what is in store for us,

with some little alarm at the lateness of the season.

_Monday, February_ 20.--R. 34. Lunch Temp. -13°; Supper

Temp. -15°. Same terrible surface; four hours' hard plodding in

morning brought us to our Desolation Camp, where we had the four-day

blizzard. We looked for more pony meat, but found none. After lunch

we took to ski with some improvement of comfort. Total mileage for day

7--the ski tracks pretty plain and easily followed this afternoon. We

have left another cairn behind. Terribly slow progress, but we hope for

better things as we clear the land. There is a tendency to cloud over

in the S.E. to-night, which may turn to our advantage. At present

our sledge and ski leave deeply ploughed tracks which can be seen

winding for miles behind. It is distressing, but as usual trials are

forgotten when we camp, and good food is our lot. Pray God we get

better travelling as we are not fit as we were, and the season is

advancing apace.

_Tuesday, February_ 21.--R. 35. Lunch Temp. -9 1/2°; Supper

Temp. -11°. Gloomy and overcast when we started; a good deal

warmer. The marching almost as bad as yesterday. Heavy toiling all

day, inspiring gloomiest thoughts at times. Rays of comfort when

we picked up tracks and cairns. At lunch we seemed to have missed

the way, but an hour or two after we passed the last pony walls,

and since, we struck a tent ring, ending the march actually on our

old pony-tracks. There is a critical spot here with a long stretch

between cairns. If we can tide that over we get on the regular cairn

route, and with luck should stick to it; but everything depends on the

weather. We never won a march of 8 1/2 miles with greater difficulty,

but we can't go on like this. We are drawing away from the land and

perhaps may get better things in a day or two. I devoutly hope so.

_Wednesday, February_ 22.--R. 36. Supper Temp. -2°. There is little

doubt we are in for a rotten critical time going home, and the

lateness of the season may make it really serious. Shortly after

starting to-day the wind grew very fresh from the S.E. with strong

surface drift. We lost the faint track immediately, though covering

ground fairly rapidly. Lunch came without sight of the cairn we had

hoped to pass. In the afternoon, Bowers being sure we were too far

to the west, steered out. Result, we have passed another pony camp

without seeing it. Looking at the map to-night there is no doubt we

are too far to the east. With clear weather we ought to be able to

correct the mistake, but will the weather get clear? It's a gloomy

position, more especially as one sees the same difficulty returning

even when we have corrected the error. The wind is dying down to-night

and the sky clearing in the south, which is hopeful. Meanwhile it

is satisfactory to note that such untoward events fail to damp the

spirit of the party. To-night we had a pony hoosh so excellent and

filling that one feels really strong and vigorous again.

_Thursday, February_ 23.--R. 37. Lunch Temp.-9.8°; Supper

Temp. -12°. Started in sunshine, wind almost dropped. Luckily

Bowers took a round of angles and with help of the chart we fogged

out that we must be inside rather than outside tracks. The data

were so meagre that it seemed a great responsibility to march out

and we were none of us happy about it. But just as we decided to

lunch, Bowers' wonderful sharp eyes detected an old double lunch

cairn, the theodolite telescope confirmed it, and our spirits rose

accordingly. This afternoon we marched on and picked up another cairn;

then on and camped only 2 1/2 miles from the depot. We cannot see

it, but, given fine weather, we cannot miss it. We are, therefore,

extraordinarily relieved. Covered 8.2 miles in 7 hours, showing we

can do 10 to 12 on this surface. Things are again looking up, as we

are on the regular line of cairns, with no gaps right home, I hope.

_Friday, February_ 24.--Lunch. Beautiful day--too beautiful--an

hour after starting loose ice crystals spoiling surface. Saw depot

and reached it middle forenoon. Found store in order except shortage

oil_26_--shall have to be _very_ saving with fuel--otherwise have ten

full days' provision from to-night and shall have less than 70 miles

to go. Note from Meares who passed through December 15, saying surface

bad; from Atkinson, after fine marching (2 1/4 days from pony depot),

reporting Keohane better after sickness. Short note from Evans,

not very cheerful, saying surface bad, temperature high. Think he

must have been a little anxious. [45] It is an immense relief to

have picked up this depot and, for the time, anxieties are thrust

aside. There is no doubt we have been rising steadily since leaving

the Shambles Camp. The coastal Barrier descends except where glaciers

press out. Undulation still but flattening out. Surface soft on top,

curiously hard below. Great difference now between night and day

temperatures. Quite warm as I write in tent. We are on tracks with

half-march cairn ahead; have covered 4 1/2 miles. Poor Wilson has a

fearful attack snow-blindness consequent on yesterday's efforts. Wish

we had more fuel.

Night camp R. 38. Temp. -17°. A little despondent again. We had a

really terrible surface this afternoon and only covered 4 miles. We

are on the track just beyond a lunch cairn. It really will be a bad

business if we are to have this pulling all through. I don't know

what to think, but the rapid closing of the season is ominous. It

is great luck having the horsemeat to add to our ration. To-night

we have had a real fine 'hoosh.' It is a race between the season and

hard conditions and our fitness and good food.

_Saturday, February_ 25.--Lunch Temp. -12°. Managed just 6 miles this

morning. Started somewhat despondent; not relieved when pulling seemed

to show no improvement. Bit by bit surface grew better, less sastrugi,

more glide, slight following wind for a time. Then we began to travel

a little faster. But the pulling is still _very_ hard; undulations

disappearing but inequalities remain.

Twenty-six Camp walls about 2 miles ahead, all tracks in sight--Evans'

track very conspicuous. This is something in favour, but the

pulling is tiring us, though we are getting into better ski drawing

again. Bowers hasn't quite the trick and is a little hurt at my

criticisms, but I never doubted his heart. Very much easier--write

diary at lunch--excellent meal--now one pannikin very strong tea--four

biscuits and butter.

Hope for better things this afternoon, but no improvement

apparent. Oh! for a little wind--E. Evans evidently had plenty.

R. 39. Temp. -20°. Better march in afternoon. Day yields 11.4

miles--the first double figure of steady dragging for a long time,

but it meant and will mean hard work if we can't get a wind to help

us. Evans evidently had a strong wind here, S.E. I should think. The

temperature goes very low at night now when the sky is clear as at

present. As a matter of fact this is wonderfully fair weather--the

only drawback the spoiling of the surface and absence of wind. We

see all tracks very plain, but the pony-walls have evidently been

badly drifted up. Some kind people had substituted a cairn at last

camp 27. The old cairns do not seem to have suffered much.

_Sunday, February_ 26.--Lunch Temp. -17°. Sky overcast at start, but

able see tracks and cairn distinct at long distance. Did a little

better, 6 1/2 miles to date. Bowers and Wilson now in front. Find

great relief pulling behind with no necessity to keep attention on

track. Very cold nights now and cold feet starting march, as day

footgear doesn't dry at all. We are doing well on our food, but we

ought to have yet more. I hope the next depôt, now only 50 miles,

will find us with enough surplus to open out. The fuel shortage still

an anxiety.

R. 40. Temp. -21° Nine hours' solid marching has given us 11 1/2

miles. Only 43 miles from the next depôt. Wonderfully fine weather but

cold, very cold. Nothing dries and we get our feet cold too often. We

want more food yet and especially more fat. Fuel is woefully short. We

can scarcely hope to get a better surface at this season, but I wish

we could have some help from the wind, though it might shake us badly

if the temp. didn't rise.

_Monday, February_ 27.--Desperately cold last night: -33° when we

got up, with -37° minimum. Some suffering from cold feet, but all got

good rest. We _must_ open out on food soon. But we have done 7 miles

this morning and hope for some 5 this afternoon. Overcast sky and good

surface till now, when sun shows again. It is good to be marching the

cairns up, but there is still much to be anxious about. We talk of

little but food, except after meals. Land disappearing in satisfactory

manner. Pray God we have no further set-backs. We are naturally always

discussing possibility of meeting dogs, where and when, &c. It is

a critical position. We may find ourselves in safety at next depôt,

but there is a horrid element of doubt.

Camp R. 41. Temp. -32°. Still fine clear weather but very

cold--absolutely calm to-night. We have got off an excellent march

for these days (12.2) and are much earlier than usual in our bags. 31

miles to depot, 3 days' fuel at a pinch, and 6 days' food. Things

begin to look a little better; we can open out a little on food from

to-morrow night, I think.

Very curious surface--soft recent sastrugi which sink underfoot,

and between, a sort of flaky crust with large crystals beneath.

_Tuesday, February_ 28.--Lunch. Thermometer went below -40° last night;

it was desperately cold for us, but we had a fair night. I decided

to slightly increase food; the effect is undoubtedly good. Started

marching in -32° with a slight north-westerly breeze--blighting. Many

cold feet this morning; long time over foot gear, but we are

earlier. Shall camp earlier and get the chance of a good night, if

not the reality. Things must be critical till we reach the depot, and

the more I think of matters, the more I anticipate their remaining so

after that event. Only 24 1/2 miles from the depot. The sun shines

brightly, but there is little warmth in it. There is no doubt the

middle of the Barrier is a pretty awful locality.

Camp 42. Splendid pony hoosh sent us to bed and sleep happily after a

horrid day, wind continuing; did 11 1/2 miles. Temp. not quite so low,

but expect we are in for cold night (Temp. -27°).

_Wednesday, February_ 29.--Lunch. Cold night. Minimum Temp. -37.5°;

-30° with north-west wind, force 4, when we got up. Frightfully

cold starting; luckily Bowers and Oates in their last new finnesko;

keeping my old ones for present. Expected awful march and for first

hour got it. Then things improved and we camped after 5 1/2 hours

marching close to lunch camp--22 1/2. Next camp is our depot and it is

exactly 13 miles. It ought not to take more than 1 1/2 days; we pray

for another fine one. The oil will just about spin out in that event,

and we arrive 3 clear days' food in hand. The increase of ration has

had an enormously beneficial result. Mountains now looking small. Wind

still very light from west--cannot understand this wind.

_Thursday, March_ 1.--Lunch. Very cold last night--minimum -41.5°. Cold

start to march, too, as usual now. Got away at 8 and have marched

within sight of depot; flag something under 3 miles away. We did 11

1/2 yesterday and marched 6 this morning. Heavy dragging yesterday

and _very_ heavy this morning. Apart from sledging considerations

the weather is wonderful. Cloudless days and nights and the wind

trifling. Worse luck, the light airs come from the north and keep us

horribly cold. For this lunch hour the exception has come. There is

a bright and comparatively warm sun. All our gear is out drying.

_Friday, March_ 2.--Lunch. Misfortunes rarely come singly. We marched

to the (Middle Barrier) depot fairly easily yesterday afternoon, and

since that have suffered three distinct blows which have placed us

in a bad position. First we found a shortage of oil; with most rigid

economy it can scarce carry us to the next depot on this surface (71

miles away). Second, Titus Oates disclosed his feet, the toes showing

very bad indeed, evidently bitten by the late temperatures. The third

blow came in the night, when the wind, which we had hailed with some

joy, brought dark overcast weather. It fell below -40° in the night,

and this morning it took 1 1/2 hours to get our foot gear on, but

we got away before eight. We lost cairn and tracks together and made

as steady as we could N. by W., but have seen nothing. Worse was to

come--the surface is simply awful. In spite of strong wind and full

sail we have only done 5 1/2 miles. We are in a very queer street

since there is no doubt we cannot do the extra marches and feel the

cold horribly.

_Saturday, March_ 3.--Lunch. We picked up the track again yesterday,

finding ourselves to the eastward. Did close on 10 miles and things

looked a trifle better; but this morning the outlook is blacker

than ever. Started well and with good breeze; for an hour made good

headway; then the surface grew awful beyond words. The wind drew

forward; every circumstance was against us. After 4 1/4 hours things

so bad that we camped, having covered 4 1/2 miles. (R. 46.) One

cannot consider this a fault of our own--certainly we were pulling

hard this morning--it was more than three parts surface which held

us back--the wind at strongest, powerless to move the sledge. When

the light is good it is easy to see the reason. The surface, lately

a very good hard one, is coated with a thin layer of woolly crystals,

formed by radiation no doubt. These are too firmly fixed to be removed

by the wind and cause impossible friction on the runners. God help us,

we can't keep up this pulling, that is certain. Amongst ourselves we

are unendingly cheerful, but what each man feels in his heart I can

only guess. Pulling on foot gear in the morning is getter slower and

slower, therefore every day more dangerous.

_Sunday, March_ 4.--Lunch. Things looking _very_ black indeed. As usual

we forgot our trouble last night, got into our bags, slept splendidly

on good hoosh, woke and had another, and started marching. Sun shining

brightly, tracks clear, but surface covered with sandy frostrime. All

the morning we had to pull with all our strength, and in 4 1/2 hours we

covered 3 1/2 miles. Last night it was overcast and thick, surface bad;

this morning sun shining and surface as bad as ever. One has little

to hope for except perhaps strong dry wind--an unlikely contingency

at this time of year. Under the immediate surface crystals is a hard

sustrugi surface, which must have been excellent for pulling a week or

two ago. We are about 42 miles from the next depot and have a week's

food, but only about 3 to 4 days' fuel--we are as economical of the

latter as one can possibly be, and we cannot afford to save food and

pull as we are pulling. We are in a very tight place indeed, but none

of us despondent _yet_, or at least we preserve every semblance of

good cheer, but one's heart sinks as the sledge stops dead at some

sastrugi behind which the surface sand lies thickly heaped. For the

moment the temperature is on the -20°--an improvement which makes

us much more comfortable, but a colder snap is bound to come again

soon. I fear that Oates at least will weather such an event very

poorly. Providence to our aid! We can expect little from man now

except the possibility of extra food at the next depot. It will be

real bad if we get there and find the same shortage of oil. Shall we

get there? Such a short distance it would have appeared to us on the

summit! I don't know what I should do if Wilson and Bowers weren't

so determinedly cheerful over things.

_Monday, March_ 5.--Lunch. Regret to say going from bad to worse. We

got a slant of wind yesterday afternoon, and going on 5 hours we

converted our wretched morning run of 3 1/2 miles into something

over 9. We went to bed on a cup of cocoa and pemmican solid with the

chill off. (R. 47.) The result is telling on all, but mainly on Oates,

whose feet are in a wretched condition. One swelled up tremendously

last night and he is very lame this morning. We started march on tea

and pemmican as last night--we pretend to prefer the pemmican this

way. Marched for 5 hours this morning over a slightly better surface

covered with high moundy sastrugi. Sledge capsized twice; we pulled on

foot, covering about 5 1/2 miles. We are two pony marches and 4 miles

about from our depot. Our fuel dreadfully low and the poor Soldier

nearly done. It is pathetic enough because we can do nothing for him;

more hot food might do a little, but only a little, I fear. We none

of us expected these terribly low temperatures, and of the rest of us

Wilson is feeling them most; mainly, I fear, from his self-sacrificing

devotion in doctoring Oates' feet. We cannot help each other, each has

enough to do to take care of himself. We get cold on the march when

the trudging is heavy, and the wind pierces our warm garments. The

others, all of them, are unendingly cheerful when in the tent. We

mean to see the game through with a proper spirit, but it's tough

work to be pulling harder than we ever pulled in our lives for long

hours, and to feel that the progress is so slow. One can only say

'God help us!' and plod on our weary way, cold and very miserable,

though outwardly cheerful. We talk of all sorts of subjects in the

tent, not much of food now, since we decided to take the risk of

running a full ration. We simply couldn't go hungry at this time.

_Tuesday, March_ 6.--Lunch. We did a little better with help of wind

yesterday afternoon, finishing 9 1/2 miles for the day, and 27 miles

from depot. (R. 48.) But this morning things have been awful. It was

warm in the night and for the first time during the journey I overslept

myself by more than an hour; then we were slow with foot gear; then,

pulling with all our might (for our lives) we could scarcely advance

at rate of a mile an hour; then it grew thick and three times we had

to get out of harness to search for tracks. The result is something

less than 3 1/2 miles for the forenoon. The sun is shining now and

the wind gone. Poor Oates is unable to pull, sits on the sledge when

we are track-searching--he is wonderfully plucky, as his feet must

be giving him great pain. He makes no complaint, but his spirits

only come up in spurts now, and he grows more silent in the tent. We

are making a spirit lamp to try and replace the primus when our oil

is exhausted. It will be a very poor substitute and we've not got

much spirit. If we could have kept up our 9-mile days we might have

got within reasonable distance of the depot before running out,

but nothing but a strong wind and good surface can help us now,

and though we had quite a good breeze this morning, the sledge came

as heavy as lead. If we were all fit I should have hopes of getting

through, but the poor Soldier has become a terrible hindrance, though

he does his utmost and suffers much I fear.

_Wednesday, March_ 7.--A little worse I fear. One of Oates' feet _very_

bad this morning; he is wonderfully brave. We still talk of what we

will do together at home.

We only made 6 1/2 miles yesterday. (R. 49.) This morning in 4 1/2

hours we did just over 4 miles. We are 16 from our depot. If we only

find the correct proportion of food there and this surface continues,

we may get to the next depot [Mt. Hooper, 72 miles farther] but not

to One Ton Camp. We hope against hope that the dogs have been to

Mt. Hooper; then we might pull through. If there is a shortage of oil

again we can have little hope. One feels that for poor Oates the crisis

is near, but none of us are improving, though we are wonderfully fit

considering the really excessive work we are doing. We are only kept

going by good food. No wind this morning till a chill northerly air

came ahead. Sun bright and cairns showing up well. I should like to

keep the track to the end.

_Thursday, March_ 8.--Lunch. Worse and worse in morning; poor Oates'

left foot can never last out, and time over foot gear something

awful. Have to wait in night foot gear for nearly an hour before I

start changing, and then am generally first to be ready. Wilson's feet

giving trouble now, but this mainly because he gives so much help to

others. We did 4 1/2 miles this morning and are now 8 1/2 miles from

the depot--a ridiculously small distance to feel in difficulties,

yet on this surface we know we cannot equal half our old marches,

and that for that effort we expend nearly double the energy. The

great question is, What shall we find at the depot? If the dogs have

visited it we may get along a good distance, but if there is another

short allowance of fuel, God help us indeed. We are in a very bad way,

I fear, in any case.

_Saturday, March_ 10.--Things steadily downhill. Oates' foot worse. He

has rare pluck and must know that he can never get through. He asked

Wilson if he had a chance this morning, and of course Bill had to say

he didn't know. In point of fact he has none. Apart from him, if he

went under now, I doubt whether we could get through. With great care

we might have a dog's chance, but no more. The weather conditions are

awful, and our gear gets steadily more icy and difficult to manage. At

the same time of course poor Titus is the greatest handicap. He keeps

us waiting in the morning until we have partly lost the warming effect

of our good breakfast, when the only wise policy is to be up and away

at once; again at lunch. Poor chap! it is too pathetic to watch him;

one cannot but try to cheer him up.

Yesterday we marched up the depot, Mt. Hooper. Cold comfort. Shortage

on our allowance all round. I don't know that anyone is to blame. The

dogs which would have been our salvation have evidently failed. [46]

Meares had a bad trip home I suppose.

This morning it was calm when we breakfasted, but the wind came

from W.N.W. as we broke camp. It rapidly grew in strength. After

travelling for half an hour I saw that none of us could go on facing

such conditions. We were forced to camp and are spending the rest of

the day in a comfortless blizzard camp, wind quite foul. (R. 52.)

_Sunday, March_ ll.--Titus Oates is very near the end, one feels. What

we or he will do, God only knows. We discussed the matter after

breakfast; he is a brave fine fellow and understands the situation,

but he practically asked for advice. Nothing could be said but to

urge him to march as long as he could. One satisfactory result to

the discussion; I practically ordered Wilson to hand over the means

of ending our troubles to us, so that anyone of us may know how to

do so. Wilson had no choice between doing so and our ransacking the

medicine case. We have 30 opium tabloids apiece and he is left with

a tube of morphine. So far the tragical side of our story. (R. 53.)

The sky completely overcast when we started this morning. We could see

nothing, lost the tracks, and doubtless have been swaying a good deal

since--3.1 miles for the forenoon--terribly heavy dragging--expected

it. Know that 6 miles is about the limit of our endurance now, if we

get no help from wind or surfaces. We have 7 days' food and should be

about 55 miles from One Ton Camp to-night, 6 × 7 = 42, leaving us 13

miles short of our distance, even if things get no worse. Meanwhile

the season rapidly advances.

_Monday, March_ 12.--We did 6.9 miles yesterday, under our necessary

average. Things are left much the same, Oates not pulling much, and

now with hands as well as feet pretty well useless. We did 4 miles

this morning in 4 hours 20 min.--we may hope for 3 this afternoon,

7 × 6 = 42. We shall be 47 miles from the depot. I doubt if we can

possibly do it. The surface remains awful, the cold intense, and

our physical condition running down. God help us! Not a breath of

favourable wind for more than a week, and apparently liable to head

winds at any moment.

_Wednesday, March_ 14.--No doubt about the going downhill, but

everything going wrong for us. Yesterday we woke to a strong northerly

wind with temp. -37°. Couldn't face it, so remained in camp (R. 54)

till 2, then did 5 1/4 miles. Wanted to march later, but party feeling

the cold badly as the breeze (N.) never took off entirely, and as

the sun sank the temp. fell. Long time getting supper in dark. (R. 55.)

This morning started with southerly breeze, set sail and passed another

cairn at good speed; half-way, however, the wind shifted to W. by

S. or W.S.W., blew through our wind clothes and into our mits. Poor

Wilson horribly cold, could not get off ski for some time. Bowers and

I practically made camp, and when we got into the tent at last we

were all deadly cold. Then temp, now midday down -43° and the wind

strong. We _must_ go on, but now the making of every camp must be

more difficult and dangerous. It must be near the end, but a pretty

merciful end. Poor Oates got it again in the foot. I shudder to think

what it will be like to-morrow. It is only with greatest pains rest

of us keep off frostbites. No idea there could be temperatures like

this at this time of year with such winds. Truly awful outside the

tent. Must fight it out to the last biscuit, but can't reduce rations.

_Friday, March_ 16 _or Saturday_ 17.--Lost track of dates, but

think the last correct. Tragedy all along the line. At lunch, the

day before yesterday, poor Titus Oates said he couldn't go on; he

proposed we should leave him in his sleeping-bag. That we could not

do, and induced him to come on, on the afternoon march. In spite of

its awful nature for him he struggled on and we made a few miles. At

night he was worse and we knew the end had come.

Should this be found I want these facts recorded. Oates' last

thoughts were of his Mother, but immediately before he took pride

in thinking that his regiment would be pleased with the bold way in

which he met his death. We can testify to his bravery. He has borne

intense suffering for weeks without complaint, and to the very last

was able and willing to discuss outside subjects. He did not--would

not--give up hope to the very end. He was a brave soul. This was the

end. He slept through the night before last, hoping not to wake; but

he woke in the morning--yesterday. It was blowing a blizzard. He said,

'I am just going outside and may be some time.' He went out into the

blizzard and we have not seen him since.

I take this opportunity of saying that we have stuck to our sick

companions to the last. In case of Edgar Evans, when absolutely out

of food and he lay insensible, the safety of the remainder seemed to

demand his abandonment, but Providence mercifully removed him at this

critical moment. He died a natural death, and we did not leave him

till two hours after his death. We knew that poor Oates was walking

to his death, but though we tried to dissuade him, we knew it was the

act of a brave man and an English gentleman. We all hope to meet the

end with a similar spirit, and assuredly the end is not far.

I can only write at lunch and then only occasionally. The cold is

intense, -40° at midday. My companions are unendingly cheerful, but we

are all on the verge of serious frostbites, and though we constantly

talk of fetching through I don't think anyone of us believes it in

his heart.

We are cold on the march now, and at all times except meals. Yesterday

we had to lay up for a blizzard and to-day we move dreadfully

slowly. We are at No. 14 pony camp, only two pony marches from

One Ton Depôt. We leave here our theodolite, a camera, and Oates'

sleeping-bags. Diaries, &c., and geological specimens carried at

Wilson's special request, will be found with us or on our sledge.

_Sunday, March_ 18.--To-day, lunch, we are 21 miles from the depot. Ill

fortune presses, but better may come. We have had more wind and

drift from ahead yesterday; had to stop marching; wind N.W., force 4,

temp. -35°. No human being could face it, and we are worn out _nearly_.

My right foot has gone, nearly all the toes--two days ago I was proud

possessor of best feet. These are the steps of my downfall. Like an ass

I mixed a small spoonful of curry powder with my melted pemmican--it

gave me violent indigestion. I lay awake and in pain all night; woke

and felt done on the march; foot went and I didn't know it. A very

small measure of neglect and have a foot which is not pleasant to

contemplate. Bowers takes first place in condition, but there is not

much to choose after all. The others are still confident of getting

through--or pretend to be--I don't know! We have the last _half_ fill

of oil in our primus and a very small quantity of spirit--this alone

between us and thirst. The wind is fair for the moment, and that is

perhaps a fact to help. The mileage would have seemed ridiculously

small on our outward journey.

_Monday, March_ 19.--Lunch. We camped with difficulty last night,

and were dreadfully cold till after our supper of cold pemmican and

biscuit and a half a pannikin of cocoa cooked over the spirit. Then,

contrary to expectation, we got warm and all slept well. To-day we

started in the usual dragging manner. Sledge dreadfully heavy. We are

15 1/2 miles from the depot and ought to get there in three days. What

progress! We have two days' food but barely a day's fuel. All our

feet are getting bad--Wilson's best, my right foot worst, left all

right. There is no chance to nurse one's feet till we can get hot

food into us. Amputation is the least I can hope for now, but will

the trouble spread? That is the serious question. The weather doesn't

give us a chance--the wind from N. to N.W. and -40° temp, to-day.

_Wednesday, March_ 11.--Got within 11 miles of depôt Monday night;

[47] had to lay up all yesterday in severe blizzard._27_ To-day

forlorn hope, Wilson and Bowers going to depot for

fuel.

_Thursday, March_ 22 _and_ 23.--Blizzard bad as ever--Wilson and

Bowers unable to start--to-morrow last chance--no fuel and only one

or two of food left--must be near the end. Have decided it shall be

natural--we shall march for the depot with or without our effects

and die in our tracks.

_Thursday, March_ 29.--Since the 21st we have had a continuous gale

from W.S.W. and S.W. We had fuel to make two cups of tea apiece and

bare food for two days on the 20th. Every day we have been ready to

start for our depot _11 miles_ away, but outside the door of the tent

it remains a scene of whirling drift. I do not think we can hope for

any better things now. We shall stick it out to the end, but we are

getting weaker, of course, and the end cannot be far.

It seems a pity, but I do not think I can write more.

R. SCOTT.

For God's sake look after our people.

------------

Wilson and Bowers were found in the attitude of sleep, their

sleeping-bags closed over their heads as they would naturally close

them.

Scott died later. He had thrown back the flaps of his sleeping-bag

and opened his coat. The little wallet containing the three notebooks

was under his shoulders and his arm flung across Wilson. So they were

found eight months later.

With the diaries in the tent were found the following letters:

TO MRS. E. A. WILSON

MY DEAR MRS. WILSON,

If this letter reaches you Bill and I will have gone out together. We

are very near it now and I should like you to know how splendid he

was at the end--everlastingly cheerful and ready to sacrifice himself

for others, never a word of blame to me for leading him into this

mess. He is not suffering, luckily, at least only minor discomforts.

His eyes have a comfortable blue look of hope and his mind is peaceful

with the satisfaction of his faith in regarding himself as part of

the great scheme of the Almighty. I can do no more to comfort you

than to tell you that he died as he lived, a brave, true man--the

best of comrades and staunchest of friends. My whole heart goes out

to you in pity,

Yours,

R. SCOTT

TO MRS. BOWERS

MY DEAR MRS. BOWERS,

I am afraid this will reach you after one of the heaviest blows of

your life.

I write when we are very near the end of our journey, and I am

finishing it in company with two gallant, noble gentlemen. One of

these is your son. He had come to be one of my closest and soundest

friends, and I appreciate his wonderful upright nature, his ability

and energy. As the troubles have thickened his dauntless spirit ever

shone brighter and he has remained cheerful, hopeful, and indomitable

to the end.

The ways of Providence are inscrutable, but there must be some reason

why such a young, vigorous and promising life is taken.

My whole heart goes out in pity for you.

Yours,

R. SCOTT.

To the end he has talked of you and his sisters. One sees what a

happy home he must have had and perhaps it is well to look back on

nothing but happiness.

He remains unselfish, self-reliant and splendidly hopeful to the end,

believing in God's mercy to you.

TO SIR J. M. BARRIE

MY DEAR BARRIE,

We are pegging out in a very comfortless spot. Hoping this letter

may be found and sent to you, I write a word of farewell. ... More

practically I want you to help my widow and my boy--your godson. We are

showing that Englishmen can still die with a bold spirit, fighting it

out to the end. It will be known that we have accomplished our object

in reaching the Pole, and that we have done everything possible,

even to sacrificing ourselves in order to save sick companions. I

think this makes an example for Englishmen of the future, and that

the country ought to help those who are left behind to mourn us. I

leave my poor girl and your godson, Wilson leaves a widow, and Edgar

Evans also a widow in humble circumstances. Do what you can to get

their claims recognised. Goodbye. I am not at all afraid of the end,

but sad to miss many a humble pleasure which I had planned for the

future on our long marches. I may not have proved a great explorer,

but we have done the greatest march ever made and come very near to

great success. Goodbye, my dear friend,

Yours ever,

R. SCOTT.

We are in a desperate state, feet frozen, &c. No fuel and a long

way from food, but it would do your heart good to be in our tent,

to hear our songs and the cheery conversation as to what we will do

when we get to Hut Point.

_Later_.--We are very near the end, but have not and will not lose

our good cheer. We have four days of storm in our tent and nowhere's

food or fuel. We did intend to finish ourselves when things proved

like this, but we have decided to die naturally in the track.

As a dying man, my dear friend, be good to my wife and child. Give

the boy a chance in life if the State won't do it. He ought to have

good stuff in him. ... I never met a man in my life whom I admired

and loved more than you, but I never could show you how much your

friendship meant to me, for you had much to give and I nothing.

TO THE RIGHT HON. SIR EDGAR SPEYER, BART.

Dated March 16, 1912. Lat. 79.5°.

MY DEAR SIR EDGAR,

I hope this may reach you. I fear we must go and that it leaves the

Expedition in a bad muddle. But we have been to the Pole and we shall

die like gentlemen. I regret only for the women we leave behind.

I thank you a thousand times for your help and support and your

generous kindness. If this diary is found it will show how we stuck

by dying companions and fought the thing out well to the end. I think

this will show that the Spirit of pluck and power to endure has not

passed out of our race ...

Wilson, the best fellow that ever stepped, has sacrificed himself

again and again to the sick men of the party ...

I write to many friends hoping the letters will reach them some time

after we are found next year.

We very nearly came through, and it's a pity to have missed it,

but lately I have felt that we have overshot our mark. No one is

to blame and I hope no attempt will be made to suggest that we have

lacked support.

Good-bye to you and your dear kind wife.

Yours ever sincerely,

R. SCOTT.

TO VICE-ADMIRAL SIR FRANCIS CHARLES BRIDGEMAN, K.C.V.O., K.C.B.

MY DEAR SIR FRANCIS,

I fear we have shipped up; a close shave; I am writing a few

letters which I hope will be delivered some day. I want to thank

you for the friendship you gave me of late years, and to tell you

how extraordinarily pleasant I found it to serve under you. I want

to tell you that I was not too old for this job. It was the younger

men that went under first... After all we are setting a good example

to our countrymen, if not by getting into a tight place, by facing

it like men when we were there. We could have come through had we

neglected the sick.

Good-bye, and good-bye to dear Lady Bridgeman.

Yours ever,

R. SCOTT.

Excuse writing--it is -40°, and has been for nigh a month.

TO VICE-ADMIRAL SIR GEORGE LE CLEARC EGERTON. K.C.B.

MY DEAR SIR GEORGE,

I fear we have shot our bolt--but we have been to Pole and done the

longest journey on record.

I hope these letters may find their destination some day.

Subsidiary reasons of our failure to return are due to the sickness of

different members of the party, but the real thing that has stopped

us is the awful weather and unexpected cold towards the end of the

journey.

This traverse of the Barrier has been quite three times as severe as

any experience we had on the summit.

There is no accounting for it, but the result has thrown out my

calculations, and here we are little more than 100 miles from the

base and petering out.

Good-bye. Please see my widow is looked after as far as Admiralty

is concerned.

R. SCOTT.

My kindest regards to Lady Egerton. I can never forget all your

kindness.

TO MR. J.J. KINSEY--CHRISTCHURCH

March 24th, 1912.

MY DEAR KINSEY,

I'm afraid we are pretty well done--four days of blizzard just as

we were getting to the last depot. My thoughts have been with you

often. You have been a brick. You will pull the expedition through,

I'm sure.

My thoughts are for my wife and boy. Will you do what you can for

them if the country won't.

I want the boy to have a good chance in the world, but you know the

circumstances well enough.

If I knew the wife and boy were in safe keeping I should have little

regret in leaving the world, for I feel that the country need not be

ashamed of us--our journey has been the biggest on record, and nothing

but the most exceptional hard luck at the end would have caused us to

fail to return. We have been to the S. pole as we set out. God bless

you and dear Mrs. Kinsey. It is good to remember you and your kindness.

Your friend,

R. SCOTT.

Letters to his Mother, his Wife, his Brother-in-law (Sir William

Ellison Macartney), Admiral Sir Lewis Beaumont, and Mr. and

Mrs. Reginald Smith were also found, from which come the following

extracts:

The Great God has called me and I feel it will add a fearful blow to

the heavy ones that have fallen on you in life. But take comfort in

that I die at peace with the world and myself--not afraid.

Indeed it has been most singularly unfortunate, for the risks I have

taken never seemed excessive.

... I want to tell you that we have missed getting through by

a narrow margin which was justifiably within the risk of such a

journey ... After all, we have given our lives for our country--we

have actually made the longest journey on record, and we have been

the first Englishmen at the South Pole.

You must understand that it is too cold to write much.

... It's a pity the luck doesn't come our way, because every detail

of equipment is right.

I shall not have suffered any pain, but leave the world fresh from

harness and full of good health and vigour.

Since writing the above we got to within 11 miles of our depot, with

one hot meal and two days' cold food. We should have got through but

have been held for _four_ days by a frightful storm. I think the best

chance has gone. We have decided not to kill ourselves, but to fight to

the last for that depôt, but in the fighting there is a painless end.

Make the boy interested in natural history if you can; it is better

than games; they encourage it at some schools. I know you will keep

him in the open air.

Above all, he must guard and you must guard him against indolence. Make

him a strenuous man. I had to force myself into being strenuous as

you know--had always an inclination to be idle.

There is a piece of the Union Jack I put up at the South Pole in

my private kit bag, together with Amundsen's black flag and other

trifles. Send a small piece of the Union Jack to the King and a small

piece to Queen Alexandra.

What lots and lots I could tell you of this journey. How much better

has it been than lounging in too great comfort at home. What tales

you would have for the boys. But what a price to pay.

Tell Sir Clements--I thought much of him and never regretted him

putting me in command of the _Discovery_.

Message to the Public

The causes of the disaster are not due to faulty organisation, but

to misfortune in all risks which had to be undertaken.

1. The loss of pony transport in March 1911 obliged me to start later

than I had intended, and obliged the limits of stuff transported to

be narrowed.

2. The weather throughout the outward journey, and especially the

long gale in 83° S., stopped us.

3. The soft snow in lower reaches of glacier again reduced pace.

We fought these untoward events with a will and conquered, but it

cut into our provision reserve.

Every detail of our food supplies, clothing and depôts made on the

interior ice-sheet and over that long stretch of 700 miles to the

Pole and back, worked out to perfection. The advance party would

have returned to the glacier in fine form and with surplus of food,

but for the astonishing failure of the man whom we had least expected

to fail. Edgar Evans was thought the strongest man of the party.

The Beardmore Glacier is not difficult in fine weather, but on our

return we did not get a single completely fine day; this with a sick

companion enormously increased our anxieties.

As I have said elsewhere we got into frightfully rough ice and Edgar

Evans received a concussion of the brain--he died a natural death,

but left us a shaken party with the season unduly advanced.

But all the facts above enumerated were as nothing to the surprise

which awaited us on the Barrier. I maintain that our arrangements

for returning were quite adequate, and that no one in the world would

have expected the temperatures and surfaces which we encountered at

this time of the year. On the summit in lat. 85° 86° we had -20°,

-30°. On the Barrier in lat. 82°, 10,000 feet lower, we had -30°

in the day, -47° at night pretty regularly, with continuous head

wind during our day marches. It is clear that these circumstances

come on very suddenly, and our wreck is certainly due to this sudden

advent of severe weather, which does not seem to have any satisfactory

cause. I do not think human beings ever came through such a month as

we have come through, and we should have got through in spite of the

weather but for the sickening of a second companion, Captain Oates,

and a shortage of fuel in our depôts for which I cannot account,

and finally, but for the storm which has fallen on us within 11 miles

of the depôt at which we hoped to secure our final supplies. Surely

misfortune could scarcely have exceeded this last blow. We arrived

within 11 miles of our old One Ton Camp with fuel for one last meal

and food for two days. For four days we have been unable to leave the

tent--the gale howling about us. We are weak, writing is difficult,

but for my own sake I do not regret this journey, which has shown

that Englishmen can endure hardships, help one another, and meet death

with as great a fortitude as ever in the past. We took risks, we knew

we took them; things have come out against us, and therefore we have

no cause for complaint, but bow to the will of Providence, determined

still to do our best to the last. But if we have been willing to give

our lives to this enterprise, which is for the honour of our country,

I appeal to our countrymen to see that those who depend on us are

properly cared for.

Had we lived, I should have had a tale to tell of the hardihood,

endurance, and courage of my companions which would have stirred the

heart of every Englishman. These rough notes and our dead bodies must

tell the tale, but surely, surely, a great rich country like ours

will see that those who are dependent on us are properly provided for.

R. SCOTT.

APPENDIX

_Note_ 1, _p._ 3.--Dogs. These included thirty-three sledging dogs

and a collie bitch, 'Lassie.' The thirty-three, all Siberian dogs

excepting the Esquimaux 'Peary' and 'Borup,' were collected by

Mr. Meares, who drove them across Siberia to Vladivostok with the

help of the dog-driver Demetri Gerof, whom he had engaged for the

expedition. From Vladivostok, where he was joined by Lieutenant Wilfred

Bruce, he brought them by steamer to Sydney, and thence to Lyttelton.

The dogs were the gift of various schools, as shown by the following

list:

Dogs Presented by Schools, &c.

School's, &c., Russian name Translation, Name of School, &c.,

name for Dog. of Dog. description, or that presented Dog.

nickname of Dog.

Beaumont Kumgai Isle off Beaumont College.

Vladivostok

Bengeo Mannike Noogis Little Leader Bengeo, Herts.

Bluecoat Giliak Indian tribe Christ's Hospital.

Bristol Lappa Uki Lop Ears Grammar, Bristol.

Bromsgrove 'Peary' 'Peary' Bromsgrove School

(cost of transport).

Colston's Bullet Bullet Colston's School.

Danum Rabchick Grouse Doncaster Grammar Sch.

Derby I. Suka Lassie Girls' Secondary School,

Derby.

Derby II. Silni Stocky Secondary Technical School,

Derby.

Devon Jolti Yellowboy Devonshire House Branch

of Navy League.

Duns Brodiaga Robber Berwickshire High School.

Falcon Seri Grey High School, Winchester.

Felsted Visoli Jollyboy Felsted School.

Glebe Pestry Piebald Glebe House School.

Grassendale Suhoi II. Lanky Grassendale School.

Hal Krisravitsa Beauty Colchester Royal

Grammar School.

Hampstead Ishak Jackass South Hampstead High

School (Girls).

Hughie Gerachi Ginger Master H. Gethin Lewis.

Ilkley Wolk Wolf Ilkley Grammar.

Innie Suhoi I. Lanky Liverpool Institute.

Jersey Bear Bear Victoria College, Jersey.

John Bright Seri Uki Grey Ears Bootham.

Laleham Biela Noogis White Leader Laleham.

Leighton Pudil Poodle Leighton Park, Reading.

Lyon Tresor Treasure Lower School of J. Lyon.

Mac Deek I. Wild One Wells House.

Manor Colonel Colonel Manor House.

Mount Vesoi One Eye Mount, York.

Mundella Bulli Bullet Mundella Secondary.

Oakfield Ruggiola Sabaka 'Gun Dog' (Hound) Oakfield School, Rugby.

Oldham Vaida Christian name Hulme Grammar School,

Oldham.

Perse Vaska Lady's name Perse Grammar.

Poacher Malchick Black Old Man Grammar School, Lincoln.

Chorney Stareek

Price Llewelyn Hohol Little Russian Intermediate, Llan-dudno Wells.

Radlyn Czigane Gipsy Radlyn, Harrogate.

Richmond Osman Christian name Richmond, Yorks.

Regent Marakas seri Grey Regent Street Polytechnic

Steyne Petichka Little Bird Steyne, Worthing.

Sir Andrew Deek II. Wild One Sir Andrew Judd's

Commercial School.

Somerset Churnie kesoi One eye A Somerset School.

Tiger Mukaka Monkey Bournemouth School.

Tom Stareek Old Man Woodbridge.

Tua r Golleniai Julik Scamp Intermediate School, Cardiff.

Vic Glinie Long Nose Modern, Southport.

Whitgift Mamuke Rabchick Little Grouse Whitgift Grammar.

Winston Borup Borup Winston Higher Grade School

(cost of transport).

Meduate Lion N.Z. Girls' School.

_Note_ 2, _p_. 4.--Those who are named in these opening pages

were all keen supporters of the Expedition. Sir George Clifford,

Bart., and Messrs. Arthur and George Rhodes were friends from

Christchurch. Mr. M. J. Miller, Mayor of Lyttelton, was a master

shipwright and contractor, who took great interest in both the

_Discovery_ and the _Terra Nova_, and stopped the leak in the latter

vessel which had been so troublesome on the voyage out. Mr. Anderson

belonged to the firm of John Anderson & Sons, engineers, who own

Lyttelton Foundry. Mr. Kinsey was the trusted friend and representative

who acted as the representative of Captain Scott in New Zealand

during his absence in the South. Mr. Wyatt was business manager to

the Expedition.

_Note_ 3. _p_. 11.--Dr. Wilson writes: I must say I enjoyed it all from

beginning to end, and as one bunk became unbearable after another,

owing to the wet, and the comments became more and more to the point

as people searched out dry spots here and there to finish the night

in oilskins and greatcoats on the cabin or ward-room seats, I thought

things were becoming interesting.

Some of the staff were like dead men with sea-sickness. Even so

Cherry-Garrard and Wright and Day turned out with the rest of us and

alternately worked and were sick.

I have no sea-sickness on these ships myself under any conditions,

so I enjoyed it all, and as I have the run of the bridge and can ask

as many questions as I choose, I knew all that was going on.

All Friday and Friday night we worked in two parties, two hours on and

two hours off; it was heavy work filling and handing up huge buckets

of water as fast as they could be given from one to the other from the

very bottom of the stokehold to the upper deck, up little metal ladders

all the way. One was of course wet through the whole time in a sweater

and trousers and sea boots, and every two hours one took these off and

hurried in for a rest in a greatcoat, to turn out again in two hours

and put in the same cold sopping clothes, and so on until 4 A.M. on

Saturday, when we had baled out between four and five tons of water

and had so lowered it that it was once more possible to light fires

and try the engines and the steam pump again and to clear the valves

and the inlet which was once more within reach. The fires had been

put out at 11.40 A.M. and were then out for twenty-two hours while

we baled. It was a weird' night's work with the howling gale and the

darkness and the immense seas running over the ship every few minutes

and no engines and no sail, and we all in the engine-room, black as ink

with the engine-room oil and bilge water, singing chanties as we passed

up slopping buckets full of bilge, each man above' slopping a little

over the heads of all below him; wet through to the skin, so much so

that some of the party worked altogether naked like Chinese coolies;

and the rush of the wave backwards and forwards at the bottom grew

hourly less in the dim light of a couple of engine-room oil lamps whose

light just made the darkness visible, the ship all the time rolling

like a sodden lifeless log, her lee gunwale under water every time.

_December_ 3. We were all at work till 4 A.M. and then were all told

off to sleep till 8 A.M. At 9.30 A.M. we were all on to the main

hand pump, and, lo and behold! it worked, and we pumped and pumped

till 12.30, when the ship was once more only as full of bilge water

as she always is and the position was practically solved.

There was one thrilling moment in the midst of the worst hour on Friday

when we were realising that the fires must be drawn, and when every

pump had failed to act, and when the bulwarks began to go to pieces

and the petrol cases were all afloat and going overboard, and the word

was suddenly passed in a shout from the hands at work in the waist of

the ship trying to save petrol cases that smoke was coming up through

the seams in the after hold. As this was full of coal and patent fuel

and was next the engine-room, and as it had not been opened for the

airing, it required to get rid of gas on account of the flood of water

on deck making it impossible to open the hatchways; the possibility

of a fire there was patent to everyone and it could not possibly have

been dealt with in any way short of opening the hatches and flooding

the ship, when she must have floundered. It was therefore a thrilling

moment or two until it was discovered that the smoke was really steam,

arising from the bilge at the bottom having risen to the heated coal.

_Note_ 4, _p_. 15.--_December_ 26. We watched two or three immense blue

whales at fairly short distance; this is _Balænoptera Sibbaldi_. One

sees first a small dark hump appear and then immediately a jet of grey

fog squirted upwards fifteen to eighteen feet, gradually spreading as

it rises vertically into the frosty air. I have been nearly in these

blows once or twice and had the moisture in my face with a sickening

smell of shrimpy oil. Then the bump elongates and up rolls an immense

blue-grey or blackish grey round back with a faint ridge along the

top, on which presently appears a small hook-like dorsal fin, and

then the whole sinks and disappears. [Dr. Wilson's Journal.]

_Note_ 5, _p_. 21.--_December_ 18. Watered ship at a tumbled floe. Sea

ice when pressed up into large hummocks gradually loses all its

salt. Even when sea water freezes it squeezes out the great bulk of

its salt as a solid, but the sea water gets into it by soaking again,

and yet when held out of the water, as it is in a hummock, the salt

all drains out and the melted ice is blue and quite good for drinking,

engines, &c. [Dr. Wilson's Journal.]

_Note_ 6, _p_. 32.--It may be added that in contradistinction to

the nicknames of Skipper conferred upon Evans, and Mate on Campbell,

Scott himself was known among the afterguard as The Owner.

_Note_ 7, _p_. 35.--(Penguins.) They have lost none of their

attractiveness, and are most comical and interesting; as curious as

ever, they will always come up at a trot when we sing to them, and

you may often see a group of explorers on the poop singing 'For she's

got bells on her fingers and rings on her toes, elephants to ride upon

wherever she goes,' and so on at the top of their voices to an admiring

group of Adelie penguins. Meares is the greatest attraction; he has

a full voice which is musical but always very flat. He declares that

'God save the King' will always send them to the water, and certainly

it is often successful. [Dr. Wilson's Journal.]

_Note_ 8, _p_. 58.--We were to examine the possibilities of landing,

but the swell was so heavy in its break among the floating blocks of

ice along the actual beach and ice foot that a landing was out of

the question. We should have broken up the boat and have all been

in the water together. But I assure you it was tantalising to me,

for there about 6 feet above us on a small dirty piece of the old

bay ice about ten feet square one living Emperor penguin chick was

standing disconsolately stranded, and close by stood one faithful old

Emperor parent asleep. This young Emperor was still in the down, a most

interesting fact in the bird's life history at which we had rightly

guessed, but which no one had actually observed before. It was in a

stage never yet seen or collected, for the wings were already quite

clean of down and feathered as in the adult, also a line down the

breast was shed of down, and part of the head. This bird would have

been a treasure to me, but we could not risk life for it, so it had to

remain where it was. It was a curious fact that with as much clean ice

to live on as they could have wished for, these destitute derelicts of

a flourishing colony now gone north to sea on floating bay ice should

have preferred to remain standing on the only piece of bay ice left,

a piece about ten feet square and now pressed up six feet above water

level, evidently wondering why it was so long in starting north with

the general exodus which must have taken place just a month ago. The

whole incident was most interesting and full of suggestion as to the

slow working of the brain of these queer people. Another point was most

weird to see, that on the under side of this very dirty piece of sea

ice, which was about two feet thick and which hung over the water as a

sort of cave, we could see the legs and lower halves of dead Emperor

chicks hanging through, and even in one place a dead adult. I hope

to make a picture of the whole quaint incident, for it was a corner

crammed full of Imperial history in the light of what we already knew,

and it would otherwise have been about as unintelligible as any group

of animate or inanimate nature could possibly have been. As it is, it

throws more light on the life history of this strangely primitive bird.

We were joking in the boat as we rowed under these cliffs and saying

it would be a short-lived amusement to see the overhanging cliff part

company and fall over us. So we were glad to find that we were rowing

back to the ship and already 200 or 300 yards away from the place and

in open water when there was a noise like crackling thunder and a huge

plunge into the sea and a smother of rock dust like the smoke of an

explosion, and we realised that the very thing had happened which we

had just been talking about. Altogether it was a very exciting row,

for before we got on board we had the pleasure of seeing the ship

shoved in so close to these cliffs by a belt of heavy pack ice that

to us it appeared a toss-up whether she got out again or got forced

in against the rocks. She had no time or room to turn and get clear

by backing out through the belt of pack stern first, getting heavy

bumps under the counter and on the rudder as she did so, for the ice

was heavy and the swell considerable. [Dr. Wilson's Journal.]

_Note_ 9, _p_. 81.--Dr. Wilson writes in his Journal: _January_

14. He also told me the plans for our depôt journey on which we shall

be starting in about ten days' time. He wants me to be a dog driver

with himself, Meares, and Teddie Evans, and this is what I would have

chosen had I had a free choice at all. The dogs run in two teams and

each team wants two men. It means a lot of running as they are being

driven now, but it is the fastest and most interesting work of all,

and we go ahead of the whole caravan with lighter loads and at a faster

rate; moreover, if any traction except ourselves can reach the top

of Beardmore Glacier, it will be the dogs, and the dog drivers are

therefore the people who will have the best chance of doing the top

piece of the ice cap at 10,000 feet to the Pole. May I be there! About

this time next year may I be there or there-abouts! With so many

young bloods in the heyday of youth and strength beyond my own I feel

there will be a most difficult task in making choice towards the end

and a most keen competition--and a universal lack of selfishness and

self-seeking with a complete absence of any jealous feeling in any

single one of the comparatively large number who at present stand a

chance of being on the last piece next summer.

It will be an exciting time and the excitement has already begun in

the healthiest possible manner. I have never been thrown in with a

more unselfish lot of men--each one doing his utmost fair and square

in the most cheery manner possible.

As late as October 15 he writes further: 'No one yet knows who will

be on the Summit party: it is to depend on condition, and fitness

when we get there.' It is told of Scott, while still in New Zealand,

that being pressed on the point, he playfully said, 'Well, I should

like to have Bill to hold my hand when we get to the Pole'; but the

Diary shows how the actual choice was made on the march.

_Note_ 10, _p_. 86.--Campbell, Levick, and Priestly set off to the

old _Nimrod_ hut eight miles away to see if they could find a stove of

convenient size for their own hut, as well as any additional paraffin,

and in default of the latter, to kill some seals for oil.

_Note_ 11, _p_. 92.--The management of stores and transport was

finally entrusted to Bowers. Rennick therefore remained with the

ship. A story told by Lady Scott illustrates the spirit of these

men--the expedition first, personal distinctions nowhere. It was in

New Zealand and the very day on which the order had been given for

Bowers to exchange with Rennick. In the afternoon Captain Scott and

his wife were returning from the ship to the house where they were

staying; on the hill they saw the two men coming down with arms on

each other's shoulders--a fine testimony to both. 'Upon my word,'

exclaimed Scott, 'that shows Rennick in a good light!'

_Note_ 12, _p_. 102.--_January_ 29. The seals have been giving a lot

of trouble, that is just to Meares and myself with our dogs. The whole

teams go absolutely crazy when they sight them or get wind of them,

and there are literally hundreds along some of the cracks. Occasionally

when one pictures oneself quite away from trouble of that kind, an old

seal will pop his head up at a blowhole a few yards ahead of the team,

and they are all on top of him before one can say 'Knife!' Then one

has to rush in with the whip--and every one of the team of eleven

jumps over the harness of the dog next to him and the harnesses

become a muddle that takes much patience to unravel, not to mention

care lest the whole team should get away with the sledge and its

load and leave one behind to follow on foot at leisure. I never did

get left the whole of this depôt journey, but I was often very near

it and several times had only time to seize a strap or a part of the

sledge and be dragged along helter-skelter over everything that came

in the way till the team got sick of galloping and one could struggle

to one's feet again. One gets very wary and wide awake when one has

to manage a team of eleven dogs and a sledge load by oneself, but it

was a most interesting experience, and I had a delightful leader,

'Stareek' by name--Russian for 'Old Man,' and he was the most wise

old man. We have to use Russian terms with all our dogs. 'Ki Ki'

means go to the right, 'Chui' means go to the left, 'Esh to' means lie

down--and the remainder are mostly swear words which mean everything

else which one has to say to a dog team. Dog driving like this in the

orthodox manner is a very different thing to the beastly dog driving

we perpetrated in the Discovery days. I got to love all my team and

they got to know me well, and my old leader even now, six months

after I have had anything to do with him, never fails to come and

speak to me whenever he sees me, and he knows me and my voice ever

so far off. He is quite a ridiculous 'old man' and quite the nicest,

quietest, cleverest old dog I have ever come across. He looks in face

as if he knew all the wickedness of all the world and all its cares

and as if he were bored to death by them. [Dr. Wilson's Journal.]

_Note_ 13, _p_. 111.--_February_ 15. There were also innumerable

subsidences of the surface--the breaking of crusts over air spaces

under them, large areas of dropping 1/4 inch or so with a hushing sort

of noise or muffled report.--My leader Stareek, the nicest and wisest

old dog in both teams, thought there was a rabbit under the crust

every time one gave way close by him and he would jump sideways with

both feet on the spot and his nose in the snow. The action was like a

flash and never checked the team--it was most amusing. I have another

funny little dog, Mukaka, small but very game and a good worker. He

is paired with a fat, lazy and very greedy black dog, Nugis by name,

and in every march this sprightly little Mukaka will once or twice

notice that Nugis is not pulling and will jump over the trace, bite

Nugis like a snap, and be back again in his own place before the fat

dog knows what has happened. [Dr. Wilson's Journal.]

_Note_ 13_a_, _p_. 125.--Taking up the story from the point where

eleven of the thirteen dogs had been brought to the surface,

Mr. Cherry-Garrard's Diary records:

This left the two at the bottom. Scott had several times wanted

to go down. Bill said to me that he hoped he wouldn't, but now he

insisted. We found the Alpine rope would reach, and then lowered Scott

down to the platform, sixty feet below. I thought it very plucky. We

then hauled the two dogs up on the rope, leaving Scott below. Scott

said the dogs were very glad to see him; they had curled up asleep--it

was wonderful they had no bones broken.

Then Meares' dogs, which were all wandering about loose, started

fighting our team, and we all had to leave Scott and go and separate

them, which took some time. They fixed on Noogis (I.) badly. We

then hauled Scott up: it was all three of us could do--fingers a

good deal frost-bitten at the end. That was all the dogs. Scott has

just said that at one time he never hoped to get back the thirteen

or even half of them. When he was down in the crevasse he wanted to

go off exploring, but we dissuaded him. Of course it was a great

opportunity. He kept on saying, 'I wonder why this is running the

way it is--you expect to find them at right angles.'

Scott found inside crevasse warmer than above, but had no

thermometer. It is a great wonder the whole sledge did not drop

through: the inside was like the cliff of Dover.

_Note_ 14, _p_. 136.--_February_ 28. Meares and I led off with a dog

team each, and leaving the Barrier we managed to negotiate the first

long pressure ridge of the sea ice where the seals all lie, without

much trouble--the dogs were running well and fast and we kept on

the old tracks, still visible, by which we had come out in January,

heading a long way out to make a wide detour round the open water

off Cape Armitage, from which a very wide extent of thick black fog,

'frost smoke' as we call it, was rising on our right. This completely

obscured our view of the open water, and the only suggestion it gave

me was that the thaw pool off the Cape was much bigger than when

we passed it in January and that we should probably have to make a

detour of three or four miles round it to reach Hut Point instead of

one or two. I still thought it was not impossible to reach Hut Point

this way, so we went on, but before we had run two miles on the sea

ice we noticed that we were coming on to an area broken up by fine

thread-like cracks evidently quite fresh, and as I ran along by the

sledge I paced them and found they curved regularly at every 30 paces,

which could only mean that they were caused by a swell. This suggested

to me that the thaw pool off Cape Armitage was even bigger than I

thought and that we were getting on to ice which was breaking up, to

flow north into it. We stopped to consider, and found that the cracks

in the ice we were on were the rise and fall of a swell. Knowing that

the ice might remain like this with each piece tight against the next

only until the tide turned, I knew that we must get off it at once in

case the tide did turn in the next half-hour, when each crack would

open up into a wide lead of open water and we should find ourselves

on an isolated floe. So we at once turned and went back as fast as

possible to the unbroken sea ice. Obviously it was now unsafe to go

round to Hut Point by Cape Armitage and we therefore made for the

Gap. It was between eight and nine in the evening when we turned,

and we soon came in sight of the pony party, led as we thought by

Captain Scott. We were within 1/2 a mile of them when we hurried

right across their bows and headed straight for the Gap, making a

course more than a right angle off the course we had been on. There

was the seals' pressure ridge of sea ice between us and them, but as

I could see them quite distinctly I had no doubt they could see us,

and we were occupied more than once just then in beating the teams

off stray seals, so that we didn't go by either vary quickly or very

silently. From here we ran into the Gap, where there was some nasty

pressed-up ice to cross and large gaps and cracks by the ice foot;

but with the Alpine rope and a rush we got first one team over and

then the other without mishap on to the land ice, and were then

practically at Hut Point. However, expecting that the pony party was

following us, we ran our teams up on to level ice, picketed them, and

pitched our tent, to remain there for the night, as we had a half-mile

of rock to cross to reach the hut and the sledges would have to be

carried over this and the dogs led by hand in couples--a very long

job. Having done this we returned to the ice foot with a pick and

a shovel to improve the road up for horse party, as they would have

to come over the same bad ice we had found difficult with the dogs;

but they were nowhere to be seen close at hand as we had expected,

for they were miles out, as we soon saw, still trying to reach Hut

Point by the sea ice round Cape Armitage thaw pool, and on the ice

which was showing a working crack at 30 paces. I couldn't understand

how Scott could do such a thing, and it was only the next day that

I found out that Scott had remained behind and had sent Bowers in

charge of this pony party. Bowers, having had no experience of the

kind, did not grasp the situation for some time, and as we watched

him and his party--or as we thought Captain Scott and his party--of

ponies we saw them all suddenly realise that they were getting into

trouble and the whole party turned back; but instead of coming back

towards the Gap as we had, we saw them go due south towards the Barrier

edge and White Island. Then I thought they were all right, for I knew

they would get on to safe ice and camp for the night. We therefore

had our supper in the tent and were turning in between eleven and

twelve when I had a last look to see where they were and found they

had camped as it appeared to me on safe Barrier ice, the only safe

thing they could have done. They were now about six miles away from

us, and it was lucky that I had my Goerz glasses with me so that we

could follow their movements. Now as everything looked all right,

Meares and I turned in and slept. At 5 A.M. I awoke, and as I felt

uneasy about the party I went out and along the Gap to where we could

see their camp, and I was horrified to see that the whole of the sea

ice was now on the move and that it had broken up for miles further

than when we turned in and right back past where they had camped,

and that the pony party was now, as we could see, adrift on a floe

and separated by open water and a lot of drifting ice from the edge

of the fast Barrier ice. We could see with our glasses that they

were running the ponies and sledges over as quickly as possible from

floe to floe whenever they could, trying to draw nearer to the safe

Barrier ice again. The whole Strait was now open water to the N. of

Cape Armitage, with the frost smoke rising everywhere from it, and

full of pieces of floating ice, all going up N. to Ross Sea.

_March_ 1. _Ash Wednesday_. The question for us was whether we could

do anything to help them. There was no boat anywhere and there was

no one to consult with, for everyone was on the floating floe as we

believed, except Teddie Evans, Forde, and Keohane, who with one pony

were on their way back from Corner Camp. So we searched the Barrier

for signs of their tent and then saw that there was a tent at Safety

Camp, which meant evidently to us that they had returned. The obvious

thing was to join up with them and go round to where the pony party

was adrift, and see if we could help them to reach the safe ice. So

without waiting for breakfast we went off six miles to this tent. We

couldn't go now by the Gap, for the ice by which we had reached land

yesterday was now broken up in every direction and all on the move

up the Strait. We had no choice now but to cross up by Crater Hill

and down by Pram Point and over the pressure ridges and so on to

the Barrier and off to Safety Camp. We couldn't possibly take a dog

sledge this way, so we walked, taking the Alpine rope to cross the

pressure ridges, which are full of crevasses.

We got to this tent soon after noon and were astonished to find that

not Teddie Evans and his two seamen were here, but that Scott and Oates

and Gran were in it and no pony with them. Teddie Evans was still on

his way back from Corner Camp and had not arrived. It was now for the

first time that we understood how the accident had happened. When we

had left Safety Camp yesterday with the dogs, the ponies began their

march to follow us, but one of the ponies was so weak after the last

blizzard and so obviously about to die that Bowers, Cherry-Garrard,

and Crean were sent on with the four capable ponies, while Scott,

Oates, and Gran remained at Safety Camp till the sick pony died,

which happened apparently that night. He was dead and buried when

we got there. We found that Scott had that morning seen the open

water up to the Barrier edge and had been in a dreadful state of

mind, thinking that Meares and I, as well as the whole pony party,

had gone out into the Strait on floating ice. He was therefore much

relieved when we arrived and he learned for the first time where the

pony party was trying to get to fast ice again. We were now given

some food, which we badly wanted, and while we were eating we saw in

the far distance a single man coming hurriedly along the edge of the

Barrier ice from the direction of the catastrophe party and towards

our camp. Gran went off on ski to meet him, and when he arrived we

found it was Crean, who had been sent off by Bowers with a note,

unencumbered otherwise, to jump from one piece of floating ice to

another until he reached the fast edge of the Barrier in order to

let Capt. Scott know what had happened. This he did, of course not

knowing that we or anyone else had seen him go adrift, and being

unable to leave the ponies and all his loaded sledges himself. Crean

had considerable difficulty and ran a pretty good risk in doing this,

but succeeded all right. There were now Scott, Oates, Crean, Gran,

Meares, and myself here and only three sleeping-bags, so the three

first remained to see if they could help Bowers, Cherry-Garrard, and

the ponies, while Meares, Gran, and I returned to look after our dogs

at Hut Point. Here we had only two sleeping-bags for the three of us,

so we had to take turns, and I remained up till 1 o'clock that night

while Gran had six hours in my bag. It was a bitterly cold job after

a long day. We had been up at 5 with nothing to eat till 1 o'clock,

and walked 14 miles. The nights are now almost dark.

_March_ 2. A very bitter wind blowing and it was a cheerless job

waiting for six hours to get a sleep in the bag. I walked down from our

tent to the hut and watched whales blowing in the semi-darkness out

in the black water of the Strait. When we turned out in the morning

the pony party was still on floating ice but not any further from

the Barrier ice. By a merciful providence the current was taking

them rather along the Barrier edge, where they went adrift, instead

of straight out to sea. We could do nothing more for them, so we set

to our work with the dogs. It was blowing a bitter gale of wind from

the S.E. with some drift and we made a number of journeys backwards

and forwards between the Gap and the hut, carrying our tent and

camp equipment down and preparing a permanent picketing line for the

dogs. As the ice had all gone out of the Strait we were quite cut off

from any return to Cape Evans until the sea should again freeze over,

and this was not likely until the end of April. We rigged up a small

fireplace in the hut and found some wood and made a fire for an hour

or so at each meal, but as there was no coal and not much wood we

felt we must be economical with the fuel, and so also with matches

and everything else, in case Bowers should lose his sledge loads,

which had most of the supplies for the whole party to last twelve

men for two months. The weather had now become too thick for us to

distinguish anything in the distance and we remained in ignorance as to

the party adrift until Saturday. I had also lent my glasses to Captain

Scott. This night I had first go in the bag, and turned out to shiver

for eight hours till breakfast. There was literally nothing in the

hut that one could cover oneself with to keep warm and we couldn't

run to keeping the fire going. It was very cold work. There were

heaps of biscuit cases here which we had left in _Discovery_ days,

and with these we built up a small inner hut to live in.

_March_ 3. Spent the day in transferring dogs in couples from the

Gap to the hut. In the afternoon Teddie Evans and Atkinson turned up

from over the hills, having returned from their Corner Camp journey

with one horse and two seamen, all of which they had left encamped at

Castle Rock, three miles off on the hills. They naturally expected

to find Scott here and everyone else and had heard nothing of the

pony party going adrift, but having found only open water ahead of

them they turned back and came to land by Castle Rock slopes. We fed

them and I walked half-way back to Castle Rock with them.

_March_ 4. Meares, Gran, and I walked up Ski Slope towards Castle

Rock to meet Evans's party and pilot them and the dogs safely to Hut

Point, but half-way we met Atkinson, who told us that they had now

been joined by Scott and all the catastrophe party, who were safe,

but who had lost all the ponies except one--a great blow. However,

no lives were lost and the sledge loads and stores were saved, so

Meares and I returned to Hut Point to make stables for the only two

ponies that now remained, both in wretched condition, of the eight

with which we started. [Dr. Wilson's Journal.]

_Note_ 15, _p_. 140.--_March_ 12. Thawed out some old magazines and

picture papers which were left here by the _Discovery_, and gave us

very good reading. [Dr. Wilson's Journal.]

_Note_ 16, _p_. 151.--_April_ 4. Fun over a fry I made in my new

penquin lard. It was quite a success and tasted like very bad sardine

oil. [Dr. Wilson's Journal.]

_Note_ 17, _p_. 169.--'Voyage of the Discovery,' chap. ix. 'The

question of the moment is, what has become of our boats?' Early in

the winter they were hoisted out to give more room for the awning,

and were placed in a line about one hundred yards from the ice foot

on the sea ice. The earliest gale drifted them up nearly gunwale high,

and thus for two months they remained in sight whilst we congratulated

ourselves on their security. The last gale brought more snow,

and piling it in drifts at various places in the bay, chose to be

specially generous with it in the neighbourhood of our boats, so that

afterwards they were found to be buried three or four feet beneath

the new surface. Although we had noted with interest the manner in

which the extra weight of snow in other places was pressing down the

surface of the original ice, and were even taking measurements of the

effects thus produced, we remained fatuously blind to the risks our

boats ran under such conditions. It was from no feeling of anxiety,

but rather to provide occupation, that I directed that the snow on top

of them should be removed, and it was not until we had dug down to

the first boat that the true state of affairs dawned on us. She was

found lying in a mass of slushy ice, with which also she was nearly

filled. For the moment we had a wild hope that she could be pulled up,

but by the time we could rig shears the air temperature had converted

the slush into hardened ice, and she was found to be stuck fast. At

present there is no hope of recovering any of the boats: as fast as one

could dig out the sodden ice, more sea-water would flow in and freeze

... The danger is that fresh gales bringing more snow will sink them

so far beneath the surface that we shall be unable to recover them

at all. Stuck solid in the floe they must go down with it, and every

effort must be devoted to preventing the floe from sinking. As regards

the rope, it is a familiar experience that dark objects which absorb

heat will melt their way through the snow or ice on which they lie.

_Note_ 18, _p_. 206.

Ponies Presented by Schools, &c.

School's, &c., Nickname of Pony. Name of School, &c.,

name of Pony. presented by.

Floreat Etona Snippet Eton College.

Christ's Hospital Hackenschmidt Christ's Hospital.

Westminster Blossom Westminster.

St. Paul's Michael St. Paul's.

Stubbington Weary Willie Stubbington House,

Fareham.

Bedales Christopher Bedales, Petersfield.

Lydney Victor The Institute, Lydney,

Gloucester.

West Down Jones West Down School.

Bootham Snatcher Bootham.

South Hampstead Bones South Hampstead

High School (Girls).

Altrincham Chinaman Seamen's Moss School,

Altrincham.

Rosemark Cuts Captain and Mrs. Mark Kerr

(H.M.S. _Invincible_).

Invincible James Pigg Officers and Ship's Company

of H.M.S. _Invincible_.

Snooker King Jehu J. Foster Stackhouse

and friend.

Brandon Punch The Bristol Savages.

Stoker Blucher R. Donaldson Hudson, Esq.

Manchester Nobby Manchester various

Cardiff Uncle Bill Cardiff ,,

Liverpool Davy Liverpool ,,

Sleeping-Bags Presented by Schools

School's, &c., Name of traveller Name of School, &c.,

name of Sleeping-bag. using Sleeping-bag. presenting Sleeping-bag.

Cowbridge Commander Evans Cowbridge.

Wisk Hove Lieutenant Campbell The Wisk, Hove.

Taunton Seaman Williamson King's College, Taunton.

Bryn Derwen Seaman Keohane Bryn Derwen.

Grange Dr. Simpson The Grange, Folkestone.

Brighton Lieutenant Bowers Brighton Grammar School.

Cardigan Captain Scott The County School, Cardigan.

Carter-Eton Mr. Cherry-Garrard Mr. R. T. Carter,

Eton College.

Radley Mr. Ponting Stones Social School,

Radley.

Woodford Mr. Meares Woodford House.

Bramhall Seaman Abbott Bramhall Grammar School.

Louth Dr. Atkinson King Edward VI.

Grammar School, Louth.

Twyford I. Seaman Forde Twyford School

Twyford II. Mr. Day ,, ,,

Abbey House Seaman Dickason Mr. Carvey's House,

Abbey House School.

Waverley Mr. Wright Waverley Road, Birmingham.

St. John's Seaman Evans St. John's House

Leyton Ch. Stoker Lashly Leyton County High School.

St. Bede's Seaman Browning Eastbourne.

Sexeys Dr. Wilson Sexeys School.

Worksop Mr. Debenham Worksop College.

Regent Mr. Nelson Regent Street Polytechnic

Secondary School.

Trafalgar Captain Oates Trafalgar House School,

Winchester.

Altrincham Mr. Griffith Taylor Altrincham, various.

Invincible Dr. Levick Ship's Company,

H.M.S. _Invincible_.

Leeds Mr. Priestley Leeds Boys' Modern School.

Sledges Presented by Schools, &c.

School's, &c., Description Name of School, &c.,

name of Sledge. of Sledge. presenting Sledge.

Amesbury Pony: Uncle Bill Amesbury, Bickley Hall,

(Cardiff) Kent.

John Bright Dog sledge Bootham.

Sherborne Pony: Snippets Sherborne House School.

(Floreat Etona)

Wimbledon Pony: Blossom King's College School,

(Westminster) Wimbledon.

Kelvinside Northern sledge Kelvinside Academy.

(man-hauled)

Pip Dog sledge Copthorne.

Christ's Hospital Dog sledge Christ's Hospital.

Hampstead Dog sledge University College School,

Hampstead.

Glasgow Pony: Snatcher High School, Glasgow.

(Bootham)

George Dixon Pony: Nobby George Dixon

(Manchester) Secondary School.

Leys Pony: Punch (Brandon) Leys School, Cambridge.

Northampton Motor sledge; No. 1 Northampton County School.

Charterhouse I. Pony: Blucher (Stoker) Charterhouse.

Charterhouse II. Western sledge Charterhouse.

(man-hauled)

Regent Northern sledge Regent Street Polytechnic

(man-hauled) Secondary School.

Sidcot Pony: Hackenschmidt Sidcot, Winscombe.

(Christ's Hospital)

Retford Pony: Michael Retford Grammar School.

(St. Paul's)

Tottenham Northern sledge Tottenham Grammar School.

(man-hauled)

Cheltenham Pony: James Pigg The College, Cheltenham.

(H.M.S. _Invincible_) Sidcot School, Old Boys.

Knight First Summit sledge

(man-hauled)

Crosby Pony: Christopher Crosby Merchant Taylors'.

(Bedales)

Grange Pony: Chinaman 'Grange,' Buxton.

(Altrincham)

Altrincham Pony: Victor (Lydney) Altrincham (various).

Probus Pony: Weary Willie Probus.

(Stubbington)

Rowntree Second Summit sledge Workmen, Rowntree's

(man-hauled) Cocoa Works.

'Invincible' I. Third Summit sledge Officers and Men,

(man-hauled) H.M.S. _Invincible_.

'Invincible' II. Pony: Jehu Do.

(Snooker King)

Eton Pony: Bones Eton College.

(South Hampstead)

Masonic Motor Sledge, No. 2 Royal Masonic School,

Bushey.

(N.B.--The name of the pony in parentheses is the name given by the

School, &c., that presented the pony.)

Tents Presented by Schools

Name of Tent. Party to which School presenting Tent.

attached.

Fitz Roy Southern Party Fitz Roy School,

Crouch End.

Ashdown Northern Party Ashdown House,

Forest Row, Sussex.

Brighton & Hove Reserve, Cape Evans Brighton & Hove High School,

(Girls).

Bromyard Do. Grammar, Bromyard.

Marlborough Do. The College, Marlborough.

Bristol Mr. Ponting Colchester House, Bristol.

(photographic artist)

Croydon Reserve, Cape Evans Croydon High School.

Broke Hall Reserve, Cape Evans Broke Hall, Charterhouse.

Pelham Southern Party Pelham House, Folkestone.

Tollington Depôt Party Tollington School,

Muswell Hill.

St. Andrews Southern Party St. Andrews, Newcastle.

Richmond Dog Party Richmond School, Yorks.

Hymers Depôt Party Scientific Society, Hymers

College, Hull.

King Edward Do. King Edward's School.

Southport Cape Crozier Depôt Southport Physical

Training College.

Jarrow Reserve, Cape Evans Jarrow Secondary School.

Grange Do. The Grange, Buxton.

Swindon Do. Swindon.

Sir John Deane Motor Party Sir J. Deane's Grammar

School.

Llandaff Reserve, Cape Evans Llandaff.

Castleford Reserve, Cape Evans Castleford Secondary School.

Hailey Do.

Hailey.

Uxbridge Northern Party Uxbridge County School.

Stubbington Reserve, Cape Evans Stubbington House, Fareham.

_Note_ 19, _p_. 215.--These hints on Polar Surveying fell on

willing ears. Members of the afterguard who were not mathematically

trained plunged into the very practical study of how to work out

observations. Writing home on October 26, 1911, Scott remarks:

'"Cherry" has just come to me with a very anxious face to say that

I must not count on his navigating powers. For the moment I didn't

know what he was driving at, but then I remembered that some months

ago I said that it would be a good thing for all the officers going

South to have some knowledge of navigation so that in emergency

they would know how to steer a sledge home. It appears that "Cherry"

thereupon commenced aserious and arduous course of study of abstruse

navigational problems which he found exceedingly tough and now

despaired mastering. Of course there is not one chance in a hundred

that he will ever have to consider navigation on our journey and in

that one chance the problem must be of the simplest nature, but it

makes matters much easier for me to have men who take the details of

one's work so seriously and who strive so simply and honestly to make

it successful.'

And in Wilson's diary for October 23 comes the entry: 'Working at

latitude sights--mathematics which I hate--till bedtime. It will be

wiser to know a little navigation on the Southern sledge journey.'

_Note_ 20, _p_. 300.--Happily I had a biscuit with me and I held it

out to him a long way off. Luckily he spotted it and allowed me to

come up, and I got hold of his head again. [Dr. Wilson's Journal.]

_Note_ 21, _p_. 338.--December 8. I have left Nobby all my biscuits

to-night as he is to try and do a march to-morrow, and then happily

he will be shot and all of them, as their food is quite done.

_December 9_. Nobby had all my biscuits last night and this morning,

and by the time we camped I was just ravenously hungry. It was a close

cloudy day with no air and we were ploughing along knee deep.... Thank

God the horses are now all done with and we begin the heavy work

ourselves. [Dr. Wilson's Journal.]

_Note_ 22, _p_. 339.--_December_ 9. The end of the Beardmore Glacier

curved across the track of the Southern Party, thrusting itself into

the mass of the Barrier with vast pressure and disturbance. So far

did this ice disturbance extend, that if the travellers had taken a

bee-line to the foot of the glacier itself, they must have begun to

steer outwards 200 miles sooner.

The Gateway was a neck or saddle of drifted snow lying in a gap of the

mountain rampart which flanked the last curve of the glacier. Under

the cliffs on either hand, like a moat beneath the ramparts, lay

a yawning ice-cleft or bergschrund, formed by the drawing away of

the steadily moving Barrier ice from the rocks. Across this moat and

leading up to the gap in the ramparts, the Gateway provided a solid

causeway. To climb this and descend its reverse face gave the easiest

access to the surface of the glacier.

_Note_ 23, _p_. 359.--Return of first Southern Party from Lat. 85°

72 S. top of the Beardmore Glacier.

Party: E. L. Atkinson, A. Cherry-Garrard, C. S. Wright, Petty Officer

Keohane.

On the morning of December 22, 1911, we made a late start after saying

good-bye to the eight going on, and wishing them all good luck and

success. The first 11 miles was on the down-grade over the ice-falls,

and at a good pace we completed this in about four hours. Lunched,

and on, completing nearly 23 miles for the first day. At the end of the

second day we got among very bad crevasses through keeping too far to

the eastward. This delayed us slightly and we made the depot on the

third day. We reached the Lower Glacier Depot three and a half days

after. The lower part of the glacier was very badly crevassed. These

crevasses we had never seen on the way up, as they had been covered

with three to four feet of snow. All the bridges of crevasses were

concave and very wide; no doubt their normal summer condition. On

Christmas Day we made in to the lateral moraine of the Cloudmaker and

collected geological specimens. The march across the Barrier was only

remarkable for the extremely bad lights we had. For eight consecutive

days we only saw an exceedingly dim sun during three hours. Up to One

Ton Depot our marches had averaged 14.1 geographical miles a day. We

arrived at Cape Evans on January 28, 1912, after being away for three

months. [E.L.A.]

_Note_ 24, _p_. 364.--_January_ 3. Return of the second supporting

party.

Under average conditions, the return party should have well fulfilled

Scott's cheery anticipations. Three-man teams had done excellently

on previous sledging expeditions, whether in _Discovery_ days

or as recently as the mid-winter visit to the Emperor penguins'

rookery; and the three in this party were seasoned travellers

with a skilled navigator to lead them. But a blizzard held them

up for three days before reaching the head of the glacier. They

had to press on at speed. By the time they reached the foot of the

glacier, Lieut. Evans developed symptoms of scurvy. His spring work

of surveying and sledging out to Corner Camp and the man-hauling,

with Lashly, across the Barrier after the breakdown of the motors,

had been successfully accomplished; this sequel to the Glacier and

Summit marches was an unexpected blow. Withal, he continued to pull,

while bearing the heavy strain of guiding the course. While the hauling

power thus grew less, the leader had to make up for loss of speed by

lengthening the working hours. He put his watch on an hour. With the

'turning out' signal thus advanced, the actual marching period reached

12 hours. The situation was saved, and Evans flattered himself on

his ingenuity. But the men knew it all the time, and no word said!

At One Ton Camp he was unable to stand without the support of his

ski sticks; but with the help of his companions struggled on another

53 miles in four days. Then he could go no farther. His companions,

rejecting his suggestion that he be left in his sleeping-bag with

a supply of provisions while they pressed on for help, 'cached'

everything that could be spared, and pulled him on the sledge with

a devotion matching that of their captain years before, when he and

Wilson brought their companion Shackleton, ill and helpless, safely

home to the _Discovery_. Four days of this pulling, with a southerly

wind to help, brought them to Corner Camp; then came a heavy snowfall:

the sledge could not travel. It was a critical moment. Next day Crean

set out to tramp alone to Hut Point, 34 miles away. Lashly stayed

to nurse Lieut. Evans, and most certainly saved his life till help

came. Crean reached Hut Point after an exhausting march of 18 hours;

how the dog-team went to the rescue is told by Dr. Atkinson in the

second volume. At the _Discovery_ hut Evans was unremittingly tended

by Dr. Atkinson, and finally sent by sledge to the _Terra Nova_. It

is good to record that both Lashly and Crean have received the

Albert medal.

_Note_ 25, _p_. 396.--At this point begins the last of Scott's

notebooks. The record of the Southern Journey is written in pencil

in three slim MS. books, some 8 inches long by 5 wide. These little

volumes are meant for artists' notebooks, and are made of tough, soft,

pliable paper which takes the pencil well. The pages, 96 in number,

are perforated so as to be detachable at need.

In the Hut, large quarto MS. books were used for the journals,

and some of the rough notes of the earlier expeditions were recast

and written out again in them; the little books were carried on the

sledge journeys, and contain the day's notes entered very regularly

at the lunch halts and in the night camps. But in the last weeks

of the Southern Journey, when fuel and light ran short and all grew

very weary, it will be seen that Scott made his entries at lunch time

alone. They tell not of the morning's run only, but of 'yesterday.'

The notes were written on the right-hand pages, and when the end of

the book was reached, it was 'turned' and the blank backs of the

leaves now became clean right-hand pages. The first two MS. books

are thus entirely filled: the third has only part of its pages used

and the Message to the Public is written at the reverse end.

Inside the front cover of No. 1 is a 'ready' table to convert the

day's run of geographical miles as recorded on the sledgemeter into

statute miles, a list of the depots and their latitude, and a note

of the sledgemeter reading at Corner Camp.

These are followed in the first pages by a list of the outward camps

and distances run as noted in the book, with special 'remarks' as to

cairns, latitude, and so forth. At the end of the book is a full list

of the cairns that marked the track out.

Inside the front cover of No. 2 are similar entries, together with

the ages of the Polar party and a note of the error of Scott's watch.

Inside the front cover of No. 3 are the following words: 'Diary can be

read by finder to ensure recording of Records, &c., but Diary should

be sent to my widow.' And on the first page:

'Send this diary to my widow.

'R. SCOTT.'

The word 'wife' had been struck out and 'widow' written in.

_Note_ 26, _p_. 398.--At this, the barrier stage of the return journey,

the Southern Party were in want of more oil than they found at the

depots. Owing partly to the severe conditions, but still more to the

delays imposed by their sick comrades, they reached the full limit

of time allowed for between depots. The cold was unexpected, and at

the same time the actual amount of oil found at the depots was less

than they had counted on.

Under summer conditions, such as were contemplated, when there was

less cold for the men to endure, and less firing needed to melt the

snow for cooking, the fullest allowance of oil was 1 gallon to last

a unit of four men ten days, or 1/40 of a gallon a day for each man.

The amount allotted to each unit for the return journey from the

South was apparently rather less, being 2/3 gallon for eight days, or

1/48 gallon a day for each man. But the eight days were to cover the

march from depot to depot, averaging on the Barrier some 70-80 miles,

which in normal conditions should not take more than six days. Thus

there was a substantial margin for delay by bad weather, while if

all went well the surplus afforded the fullest marching allowance.

The same proportion for a unit of five men works out at 5/6 of a

gallon for the eight-day stage.

Accordingly, for the return of the two supporting parties and the

Southern Party, two tins of a gallon each were left at each depot,

each unit of four men being entitled to 2/3 of a gallon, and the

units of three and five men in proportion.

The return journey on the Summit had been made at good speed, taking

twenty-one days as against twenty-seven going out, the last part of it,

from Three Degree to Upper Glacier Depot, taking nearly eight marches

as against ten, showing the first slight slackening as P.O. Evans

and Oates began to feel the cold; from Upper Glacier to Lower Glacier

Depot ten marches as against eleven, a stage broken by the Mid Glacier

Depot of three and a half day's provisions at the sixth march. Here,

there was little gain, partly owing to the conditions, but more to

Evans' gradual collapse.

The worst time came on the Barrier; from Lower Glacier to Southern

Barrier Depot (51 miles), 6 1/2 marches as against 5 (two of which

were short marches, so that the 5 might count as an easy 4 in point of

distance);from Southern Barrier to Mid Barrier Depot (82 miles), 6 1/2

marches as against 5 1/2; from Mid Barrier to Mt. Hooper (70 miles),

8 as against 4 3/4, while the last remaining 8 marches represent but

4 on the outward journey. (See table on next page.)

At to the cause of the shortage, the tins of oil at the depot

had been exposed to extreme conditions of heat and cold. The oil

was specially volatile, and in the warmth of the sun (for the tins

were regularly set in an accessible place on the top of the cairns)

tended to become vapour and escape through the stoppers even without

damage to the tins. This process was much accelerated by reason that

the leather washers about the stoppers had perished in the great

cold. Dr. Atkinson gives two striking examples of this.

1. Eight one-gallon tins in a wooden case, intended for a depot at

Cape Crozier, had been put out in September 1911. They were snowed up;

and when examined in December 1912 showed three tins full, three empty,

one a third full, and one two-thirds full.

2. When the search party reached One Ton Camp in November 1912 they

found that some of the food, stacked in a canvas 'tank' at the foot

of the cairn, was quite oily from the spontaneous leakage of the tins

seven feet above it on the top of the cairn.

The tins at the depôts awaiting the Southern Party had of course been

opened and the due amount to be taken measured out by the supporting

parties on their way back. However carefully re-stoppered, they

were still liable to the unexpected evaporation and leakage already

described. Hence, without any manner of doubt, the shortage which

struck the Southern Party so hard.

_Note_ 27, _p_. 409.--The Fatal Blizzard. Mr. Frank Wild, who led one

wing of Dr. Mawson's Expedition on the northern coast of the Antarctic

continent, Queen Mary's Land, many miles to the west of the Ross Sea,

writes that 'from March 21 for a period of nine days we were kept in

camp by the same blizzard which proved fatal to Scott and his gallant

companions' (Times, June 2, 1913). Blizzards, however, are so local

that even when, as in this case, two are nearly contemporaneous, it

is not safe to conclude that they are part of the same current of air.

TABLE OF DISTANCES showing the length of the Outward and Return

Marches on the Barrier from and to One Ton Camp.

3 miles to each sub-division

Date Camp No. Note. Distance.

Nov. 15, 16 12 One Ton Camp 15

Nov. 17 13 15

Nov. 18 14 15

Nov. 19 15 15

Nov. 20 16 15

Nov. 21 17 Mt. Hooper Depôt 15

Nov. 22 18 15

Nov. 23 19 15

Nov. 24 20 15

Nov. 25 21 Mid Barrier Depôt 15

Nov. 26 22 15

Nov. 27 23

Nov. 28 24 15

Nov. 29 25 15

Nov. 30 26 15

Dec. 1 27 Southern Barrier Depôt 15

Dec. 2 28 11 1/2

Dec. 3 29 13

Dec. 4- 30 8

Dec. 9 31 Shambles 4

Dec. 10 32 Lower Glacier D

Date Camp No. Note. Distance.

Feb. 17 R. 31 4

Feb. 18 R. 32 4.3

Feb. 19 R. 33 7

Feb. 20 R. 34 8 1/2

Feb. 21 R. 35 11 1/2

Feb. 22 R. 36 8 1/2

Feb. 23 R. 37 6 1/2

Feb. 24 R. 38 11.4

Feb. 25 R. 39 11 1/2

Feb. 26 R. 40 12.2

Feb. 27 R. 41 11

Feb. 28 R. 42 Lunch, 13

to Depôt 11 1/2

Feb. 29 R. 43 Lunch, under 3

to Depôt

Mar. 1 R. 44 6

Mar. 2 R. 45 Nearly 10

Mar. 3 R. 46 Lunch, 42

to Depôt 9

Mar. 4 R. 47 9 1/2

Mar. 5 R. 48. 27 to Depôt 6 1/2

Mar. 6 R. 49 7

Mar. 7 R. 50 Lunch, 8 1/2

to Depôt 4 1/2

Mar. 8 R. 51

Mar. 9-10 R. 52 6.9

Mar. 11 R. 53 7

Mar. 12 R. 54 47 to Depôt 5 1/4

Mar. 13 R. 55 6

Mar. 14 R. 56 4

Mar. 15 R. 57 Blizz'd

Lunch, 25 1/2

to Depôt

Mar. 17 R. 58 Lunch, 21

to Depôt

Mar. 18 R. 59

Mar. 19 R. 60 The Last Camp

The numbers are Statute Miles.

Marches

Out Return

Lower Glacier to Southern Barrier Depôt 5 6 1/2

Southern Barrier to Mid Barrier Depôt 5 1/2 6 1/2

Mid Barrier to Mount Hooper 4 3/4 8

Thereafter 4 8

It will be noted that of the first 15 Return Marches on the Barrier,

5 are 11 1/2 miles and upwards, and 5 are 8 1/2 to 10.

NOTES

[1] It was continued a night and a day.

[2] Captain Oates' nickname.

[3] A species of shrimp on which the seabirds feed.

[4] The party headed by Lieutenant Campbell, which, being unable to

disembark on King Edward's Land, was ultimately taken by the Terra

Nova to the north part of Victoria Land, and so came to be known as

the Northern Party. The Western Party here mentioned includes all

who had their base at Cape Evans: the depots to be laid were for the

subsequent expedition to the Pole.

[5] The extreme S. point of the Island, a dozen miles farther, on

one of whose minor headlands, Hut Point, stood the _Discovery_ hut.

[6] Here were the meteorological instruments.

[7] Cape Evans, which lay on the S. side of the new hut.

[8] The Southern Road was the one feasible line of communication

between the new station at C. Evans and the Discovery hut at Hut Point,

for the rugged mountains and crevassed ice slopes of Ross Island

forbade a passage by land. The 'road' afforded level going below

the cliffs of the ice-foot, except where disturbed by the descending

glacier, and there it was necessary to cross the body of the glacier

itself. It consisted of the more enduring ice in the bays and the

sea-ice along the coast, which only stayed fast for the season.

Thus it was of the utmost importance to get safely over the precarious

part of the 'road' before the seasonal going-out of the sea-ice. To

wait until all the ice should go out and enable the ship to sail to

Hut Point would have meant long uncertainty and delay. As it happened,

the Road broke up the day after the party had gone by.

[9] Viz. Atkinson and Crean, who were left at Safety Camp; E. Evans,

Forde and Keohane, who returned with the weaker ponies on Feb. 13;

Meares and Wilson with the dog teams; and Scott, Bowers, Oates,

Cherry-Garrard, and Lashly.

[10] The favorite nickname for Bowers.

[11] Professor T. Edgeworth David, C.M.G., F.R.S., of Sydney

University, who was the geologist to Shackleton's party.

[12] This was done in order to measure on the next visit the results

of wind and snow.

[13] Scott, Wilson, Meares and Cherry-Garrard now went back swiftly

with the dog teams, to look after the return parties at Safety

Camp. Having found all satisfactory, Scott left Wilson and Meares there

with the dogs, and marched back with the rest to Corner Camp, taking

more stores to the depot and hoping to meet Bowers rearguard party.

[14] The party had made a short cut where in going out with the ponies

they had made an elbow, and so had passed within this 'danger line.'

[15] Bowers, Oates, and Gran, with the five ponies. The two days had

after all brought them to Safety Camp.

[16] This was at a point on the Barrier, one-half mile from the edge,

in a S.S.E. direction from Hut Point.

[17] I.e. by land, now that the sea ice was out.

[18] Because the seals would cease to come up.

[19] As a step towards 'getting these things clearer' in his mind

two spare pages of the diary are filled with neat tables, showing

the main classes into which rocks are divided, and their natural

subdivisions--the sedimentary, according to mode of deposition,

chemical, organic, or aqueous; the metamorphic, according to the kind

of rock altered by heat; the igneous, according to their chemical

composition.

[20] Viz, Simpson, Nelson, Day, Ponting, Lashly, Clissold, Hooper,

Anton, and Demetri.

[21] See Chapter X.

[22] The white dogs.

[23] I.e. in relation to a sledging ration.

[24] Officially the ponies were named after the several schools

which had subscribed for their purchase: but sailors are inveterate

nicknamers, and the unofficial humour prevailed. See Appendix, Note 18.

[25] Captain Scott's judgment was not at fault.

[26] I.e. a crack which leaves the ice free to move with the movements

of the sea beneath.

[27] This was the gale that tore away the roofing of their hut,

and left them with only their sleeping-bags for shelter. See p. 365.

[28] Prof. T. Edgeworth David, of Sydney University, who accompanied

Shackleton's expedition as geologist.

[29] See Vol. II., Dr. Simpson's Meteorological Report.

[30] This form of motor traction had been tested on several occasions;

in 1908 at Lauteret in the Alps, with Dr. Charcot the Polar explorer:

in 1909 and again 1910 in Norway. After each trial the sledges were

brought back and improved.

[31] The Southern Barrier Depôt.

[32] Camp 31 received the name of Shambles Camp.

[33] While Day and Hooper, of the ex-motor party, had turned back on

November 24, and Meares and Demetri with the dogs ascended above the

Lower Glacier Depot before returning on December 11, the Southern

Party and its supports were organised successively as follows:

December 10, leaving Shambles Camp--

_Sledge_ 1. Scott, Wilson, Oates and P.O. Evans.

_Sledge_ 2. E. Evans, Atkinson, Wright, Lashly.

_Sledge_ 3. Bowers, Cherry-Garrard, Crean, Keohane.

December 21 at Upper Glacier Depôt--

_Sledge_ 1. Scott, Wilson, Oates, P.O. Evans.

_Sledge_ 2. E. Evans, Bowers, Crean, Lashly, while Atkinson,

Wright, Cherry-Garrard and Keohane returned.

January 4, 150 miles from the Pole--

_Sledge_ 1. Scott, Wilson, Oates, Bowers, P.O. Evans;

while E. Evans, Crean, and Lashly returned.

[34] The Lower Glacier Depot.

[35] In the pocket journal, only one side of each page had been

written on. Coming to the end of it, Scott reversed the book, and

continued his entries on the empty backs of the pages.

[36] A unit of food means a week's supplies for four men.

[37] A number preceded by R. marks the camps on the return journey.

[38] Still over 150 miles away. They had marched 7 miles on the

homeward track the first afternoon, 18 1/2 the second day.

[39] Three Degree Depôt.

[40] Left on December 31.

[41] The Upper Glacier Depôt, under Mount Darwin, where the first

supporting party turned back.

[42] The result of concussion in the morning's fall.

[43] The Lower Glacier Depot.

[44] Sledges were left at the chief depôts to replace damaged ones.

[45] It will be remembered that he was already stricken with scurvy.

[46] For the last six days the dogs had been waiting at One Ton Camp

under Cherry-Garrard and Demetri. The supporting party had come out

as arranged on the chance of hurrying the Pole travellers back over

the last stages of their journey in time to catch the ship. Scott had

dated his probable return to Hut Point anywhere between mid-March

and early April. Calculating from the speed of the other return

parties, Dr. Atkinson looked for him to reach One Ton Camp between

March 3 and 10. Here Cherry-Garrard met four days of blizzard; then

there remained little more than enough dog food to bring the teams

home. He could either push south one more march and back, at imminent

risk of missing Scott on the way, or stay two days at the Camp where

Scott was bound to come, if he came at all. His wise decision, his

hardships and endurance Ove recounted by Dr. Atkinson in Vol. II.,

'The Last Year at Cape Evans.'

[47] The 60th camp from the Pole.