SETTLING DOWN TO THE POLAR LIFE
The following members were selected for the depot journey which Captain
Scott elected to lead in person: Wilson, Bowers, Atkinson, Oates,
Cherry-Garrard, Gran, Meares, Ford, Crean, Keohane, and myself. It was
decided to take eight pony-sledges and two dog-sledges, together with
about a ton of pony food, sledging rations, dog biscuit, and paraffin to
a position on the Great Ice Barrier as far south as we could get before
the first winter set in. This decision was arrived at by Scott after
consultation with Oates and others, and, as will be seen by reference to
the list of those chosen for the journey, none of the scientific staff
were included except Wilson himself.
The ponies selected were either those in the best condition or the weaker
beasts which from Oates's viewpoint would hardly survive the rigours of
the winter. Apart from the animals picked for this journey, we had nine
beasts left to be taken care of by the little Russian, Anton, and the
trusty Lashly, whose mechanical knowledge and practical ability were
needed to help get the Base Station going.
On January 3 I was sent on board with all the sledges, including two for
a western geological reconnaissance and a small spare sledge for use in
case of breakdown or accident to the depot-laying people. By this time no
ice remained in the bay north of Cape Evans and the transport out to the
"Terra Nova" had perforce to be done by boat.
I was glad to have this chance of working out the errors and rates of our
chronometer watches, and, although I was up at 5 a.m., I could not resist
having a long yarn, which continued far into the night, with those
never-to-be-forgotten friends of mine, Campbell, Pennell, Rennick, and
Bruce, the worthy and delightful lieutenants of the Expedition. Like
little Bowers, Pennell and Rennick have made the supreme sacrifice, and
only Campbell, Bruce and myself remain alive to-day.
January 24 was a busy day. Captain Scott was fetched from the shore
directly after breakfast, and at 10 a.m. the ship left for Glacier Tongue
to shadow as it were, the string of white Siberian ponies which were
being led round over the fast ice in the bay to the southward of Cape
Evans.
On arriving at the Tongue, Pennell selected a nice, natural wharf to put
his ship alongside, and, this done, I got a picketing line out on the ice
for the horses and then got the sledges on to the glacier. It is as well
here to describe Glacier Tongue briefly, since frequent reference will be
made to that icy promontory in this narrative.
Glacier Tongue lies roughly six miles to the S.S.E. of Cape Evans and is
a remarkable spit of ice jutting out, when last surveyed, for four miles
into McMurdo Sound. Soundings showed that it was afloat for a
considerable part of its length, and as Scott found subsequently, a great
portion of it broke adrift in the autumn or winter of 1911 and was
carried by the winds and currents of the Sound to a position forty miles
W.N.W. of Cape Evans, where it grounded, a huge flat iceberg two miles in
length. Glacier Tongue was an old friend of mine, for it was here in the
1902-4 Relief Expedition that the crew of the little "Morning" dumped
twenty tons of coal for the "Discovery" to pick up on her way northward,
when the time came for her to free herself from the besetting ice which
held her prisoner off Hut Point.
The ponies were marched to their tethering place without further accident
than one falling through into the sea, but he was rescued none the worse.
Oates showed himself to advantage in managing the ponies: he was very
fond of telling us that a horse and a man would go anywhere, and I
believe if we sailor-men had had the bad taste to challenge him he would
have hoisted one of those Chinese ma[1] up to the crow's-nest!
[1: Chinese for horse.]
We all had tea on board and then, after checking the sledge loads and
ascertaining that nothing had been forgotten, the depot party started out
with full loads and marched away from Glacier Tongue for seven miles,
when our first camp was made on the sea ice. To commence with I went with
Meares and No. 1 dog-sledge; the dogs were so eager and excited that they
started by bolting at a breakneck speed and, in spite of all that we
could do, took us over the glacier edge on to the sea ice. The sledge
capsized and both Meares and I were thrown down somewhat forcibly. We
caught the sledge, however, and got the dogs in hand after their initial
energy had been expended. Scott and Wilson managed their dog sledge
better as Meares gave them a quieter team.
It was about nine o'clock when we camped, Meares, Wilson, Scott and I
sharing a tent. Uncle Bill was cook, and I must say the first sledging
supper was delightful.
We went back to Glacier Tongue the next day to relay the fodder and dog
biscuit which was to be depoted. We had brought the provisions for depot
along the eve before. I went in with Meares and Nelson, who had come out
on ski to "speed the parting guest." We had a rare treat all riding in on
the dog sledge at a great pace. Had lunch on board and then Captain Scott
gave us an hour or two to ourselves, for it was the day of farewell
letters, everybody sitting round the ward-room table sucking pens or
pencils, looking very wooden-faced and nonchalant despite the fact that
we were most certainly writing to our nearest and dearest, sending
through our letters an unwritten prayer that we should be spared after
steadfastly performing our alloted tasks with credit to our flag and with
credit to those at whose feet we yearned to lay the laurels we hoped to
win. Even as I wrote my farewell letters Captain Scott, Wilson, Bowers,
and Nelson found time to write to my wife; Scott's letter may well be
included here for it shows his thoughtfulness and consideration:
"_January_, 25, 1911,
Glacier Tongue,
McMurdo Sound.
"Dear Mrs. Evans,--I thought you might be glad to have a note to tell
you how fit and well your good man is looking, his cheery optimism has
already helped me in many difficulties and at the present moment he is
bubbling over with joy at the 'delights' of his first sledge trip.
"He will have told you all the news and the ups and downs of our
history to date, and you will have guessed that he has always met the
misfortunes with a smile and the successes with a cheer, so that very
little remains for me to say--except that I daily grow more grateful
to you for sparing him for this venture. I feel that he is going to be
a great help in every way and that it will go hard if, with so many
good fellows, we should fail in our objects.
"Before concluding I should really like to impress on you how little
cause you have for anxiety. We have had the greatest luck in finding
and establishing our winter quarters, and if I could go shopping
to-morrow I should not know what to buy to add to our comfort. We are
reaping a full reward for all those months of labour in London, in
which your husband took so large a share--if you picture us after
communication is cut off it must be a very bright picture, almost a
scene of constant revelry, with your husband in the foreground amongst
those who are merry and content--I am sure we are going to be a very
happy family and most certainly we shall be healthy and well cared
for.
"With all kind regards and hopes that you will not allow yourself to
be worried till your good man comes safely home again.
"Yours sincerely,
"R. SCOTT."
I said my good-byes after an early tea to the fellows of the "Terra Nova"
and also to the Eastern party, the lieutenants saw me over the side, and
I went away with a big lump in my throat, then Nelson and I took out a
10-ft. sledge with 530 lb. of fodder on it--rather too heavy a load, but
it all helped, and the sea ice surface was none too bad. We did not get
to camp till 10.35 p.m.: Meares, with his usual good-heartedness, came
out from the tent and helped us in for the last miles or so. He had
driven the dogs out with another load after tea time. Uncle Bill had a
fine pemmican supper awaiting us. My job kept me in camp next day to
adjust theodolites, but the rest of the party went out to bring the final
relay of depot stores from the "Terra Nova." During the following days we
relayed the depot stuff along to a position near the edge of the Barrier,
and whilst so engaged most of us found time to visit Hut Point. While
Captain Scott was selecting the position for dumping a quantity of
compressed fodder bales the remainder of the party dug the snow out of
the old hut left by the Discovery in 1904. It looked a very deserted
place, and the difference between the two winter quarters, Hut Point and
Cape Evans, was amazing. One could quite understand the first expedition
here selecting Hut Point for its natural harbour, but for comfort and
freedom from unwelcome squalls and unpleasant gusts of wind commend me to
Cape Evans. Never in my life had I seen anything quite so dreary and
desolate as this locality. Practically surrounded by high hills, little
sunshine could get to the hut, which was built in a hollow. Of course, we
saw the place at its worst, for the best summer months had passed. The
hut itself had been erected as a magnetic observatory and it contrasted
shabbily with our 50-ft by 25-ft. palace. We did not finish clearing the
snow away, although with so many willing workers we made considerable
progress. In parts the midsummer sun had melted the snow, which in turn
had re-frozen into blue ice, and this we found troublesome because the
slender woodwork of the hut would not stand any heavy pick work.
We christened the place on the Barrier edge Fodder Camp, and it was the
general opinion that we could risk leaving the bales of hay here until
the depot stuff had been taken south. Accordingly, all the more important
stores were relayed on January 29 to a position two miles in from the
Barrier edge. Whilst doing this relay work I went in with Meares to Hut
Point to bring out some 250 lb. of dog biscuit, and our dogs, being very
fresh, scented a seal, took charge of the light sledge, and, in spite of
all the brakeing and obstructing Meares and I put up, the dogs went
wildly forward until they reached the seal. The second they came to it
Meares and I found ourselves in the midst of a snapping, snarling, and
biting mixture, with the poor seal floundering underneath. While we were
beating the dogs off the seal bit Meares in the leg; he looked awfully
surprised and showed great forbearance in not giving the seal one for
himself with the iron-shod brake stick. I never saw anybody less vicious
in nature than "Mother" Meares: he never knocked the dogs about unless it
was absolutely necessary. Even Osman, the wild wolf-like king-dog, showed
affection for him.
Whilst moving the sledging stores to Safety Camp, as we called the depot,
two miles in, we came across two tents left by Shackleton two or three
years before. They contained a few stores and a Primus stove, which
proved to be most useful later on. On January 30 and 31 we completed the
depot at Safety Camp and then reorganised the depot party, owing to
Atkinson's developing a very sore heel, which made it impossible for him
to accompany us. It did not matter very much, because we had heaps of
people to work the depot-laying journey, only it meant a disappointment
for Atkinson, which he took to heart very much. The question of sledging
experience made us wish to have Atkinson on this trip, but he gained it a
few weeks later. Accordingly, I took over Crean's pony, Blossom, whilst
he took charge of our sick man and returned with him to Hut Point. Scott
himself took Atkinson's pony, and on the 2nd February the caravan
proceeded in an E.S.E. direction to make for a point in approximately 78
degrees S. 169 degrees E. Most of the ponies had 600 lb. leads on their
sledges, Meare's dog team 750, and Wilson's 600. We found the surface
very bad, most of the ponies sinking deep in the snow. After doing
roughly five miles we halted and had a meal. Oates was called into our
tent and consulted with a view to bettering the conditions for the
ponies. As a result it was decided to march by night and rest during the
day when the sun would be higher and the air warmer. There was quite a
drop in the temperature between noon and midnight, and it was natural to
suppose that we should get better and harder surfaces with the sun at its
lower altitude. We still, of course, had the sun above the horizon for
the full twenty-four hours, and should have for three weeks yet; the
choice was altogether a wise one and we therefore turned in during the
afternoon and remained in our sleeping-bags until 10 p.m. when we arose
and cooked our breakfast.
Camp was broken at midnight and the march resumed. For three hours we
plodded along, a little leg weary perhaps, on account of the unusual time
for marching and working physically. We had lunch about 3 a.m. and rested
the ponies for a couple of hours. The surface was still very bad, the
ponies labouring heavily, and my own animal, Blossom, suffered through
his hoofs being very small, so that he sank into the snow far more than
did the other horses. It was on his account that we only covered nine
miles. I did some surveying work after our 7.30 a.m. supper and turned in
at 10 o'clock until 7 p.m. Captain Scott took over cook in our tent and
made the breakfast.
For the next few days we continued marching over the Great Ice Barrier,
the distances covered depending on the condition of Blossom and another
pony, Blücher. Both of these animals caused anxiety from the start, and,
owing to their weakness the depot-laying distances scarcely exceeded ten
miles daily. There is nothing to be gained from a long description of
this autumn journey, it was merely a record of patiently trudging and of
carefully watching over the ponies. Generally speaking, the weather was
not in our favour, the sky being frequently overcast, and we experienced
an unpleasant amount of low drift.
February 5 and 6 were blizzard days during which no move could be made,
and it was not until nearly 11 p.m. on the 7th that the hard wind took
off and the snow ceased to drift about us. The blizzards were not serious
but were quite sufficient to try the ponies severely--Blossom, Blücher,
and a third animal, James Pigg, could in no way keep up with the van,
although their loads were lightened considerably. The bluejackets, Forde
and Keohane, showed extraordinary aptitude in handling the ponies, but in
spite of their efforts their animals were quite done up by February 12,
as also was poor old Blossom. It would have been cruel to continue with
them, they were so wasted, and even their eyes were dull and lustreless.
Accordingly, Scott decided to send Blücher, James Pigg, and Blossom back
with Forde, Keohane, and myself. A reorganisation was made near the 79th
parallel, and whilst the main party proceeded southward, Forde, Keohane,
and I took our feeble ponies northward with the intention of getting them
home to Hut Point before the temperature fell, until the cold would be
too great for them to stand. It was annoying for me to be sent back,
still there was plenty of survey work to be done between the
turning-point and Safety Camp. Blücher failed from the start and lay down
in the snow directly the depot party left us. Forde lifted him up, but
his legs were limp and would not support him. We rubbed the poor pony's
legs and did what we could for him, poor old Forde being practically in
tears over the little beast. To give one an idea of this wretched
animal's condition, when it was decided to kill him for humanity's sake
and his throat was cut by Keohane with a sailor's knife, there was hardly
any blood to let out. It was a rotten day for all three of us, blowing
too hard to travel until very late, and a second pony, Blossom, was doing
his best to die. We made some little way homeward, Keohane, James Pigg
and myself pulling the sledge with our gear on it, and Forde lifting,
carrying, and pushing Blossom along. I felt I ought to kill this animal
but I knew how angry and disappointed Scott would be at the loss, so kept
him going although he showed so much distress. It was surprising what
spirit the little brute had: if we started to march away Blossom
staggered along after us, looking like a spectre against the white
background of snow. We kept on giving him up and making to kill him, but
he actually struggled on for over thirty miles before falling down and
dying in his tracks. We built a snow-cairn over him and planted what pony
food we had no further use for on the top of the cairn.
The third pony, James Pigg, was kept fit and snug under a big snow-wall
whenever we were not marching, and he won home to Safety Camp with very
little trouble, frequently covering distances equal to our own marching
capability. Once Safety Camp had been regained we got good weather again
and James Pigg became quite frisky, ate all that we could give him, and,
to our delight, his eyes regained their brightness and he began to put on
flesh.
We spent a couple of days at Safety Camp before Captain Scott returned
with the dog teams. In order to cut off corners he shaved things rather
fine, and getting rather too close to White Island, the dog teams ran
along the snow-bridge of a crevasse, the bridge subsided, and all the
dogs of Scott's and Meares's sledge, with the exception of Osman, the
leader, and the two rear animals, disappeared into a yawning chasm. Scott
and Meares secured their sledge clear of the snow bridge and with the
assistance of their companions, Wilson and Cherry-Garrard, who had the
other team, they were lowered by means of an Alpine rope into the
crevasse until they could get at the dogs. They, found the poor animals
swinging round, snapping at one another and howling dismally, but in an
awful tangle. The dogs were rescued a pair at a time and, fortunately for
all concerned, they lay down and rested when hauled up to the surface by
Uncle Bill and "Cherry." When all the animals were up and Scott and
Meares themselves had regained safety, a dog fight took place between the
two teams. Apart from this excitement things had gone very well. Scott
was most enthusiastic about the capabilities of Meares's dogs, and he
then expressed an opinion that he would probably run the dogs light on
the Polar journey and do the final plateau march to the Pole itself with
them. What a pity he didn't! Had he done so he might have been alive
to-day.
We learnt from the dog-drivers that the depot had been established in 79
degrees 30 minutes S. 169 degrees E., practically one hundred and fifty
miles distant from the base, and here a ton or so of sledging stores
awaited us preparatory for the great sledge journey to the Pole.
Bowers, Oates, and Gran had been left to build up the depot and lead back
the other five ponies with their empty sledges. We waited for them at
Safety Camp before transporting some of the stuff we had left here out to
Corner Camp, the position thirty-five miles E.S.E. of Safety Camp, where
the crevasses ended. Some of us went into Hut Point to see if the ship
had been there with any message. Little did we dream whilst we sauntered
in over the ice of the news that awaited us. We found that the "Terra
Nova" had been there the day before Atkinson and Crean had got there; she
had also made a second visit on the 9th or 10th February, bringing the
unwelcome news that Amundsen's expedition had been met with in the Bay of
Whales. The "Terra Nova" had entered the bay and found the "Fram" there
with the Norwegians working like ants unloading their stores and
hut-building in rather a dangerous position quite close to the Barrier
edge. Amundsen's people had about 120 dogs and a hard lot of men, mostly
expert ski-runners. They were contemplating an early summer journey to
the Pole and not proposing to attempt serious scientific work of any
sort. Further, to our chagrin, the eastern party had not effected a
landing, for Campbell realised that it would be profitless to set up his
base alongside that of the Norwegians.
The ice conditions about King Edward VII. Land had been found
insuperable, great masses of land ice barring the way to their objective,
and so poor Campbell and his mates left news that they were reluctantly
seeking a landing elsewhere. We spent a very unhappy night, in spite of
all attempts to be cheerful. Clearly, there was nothing for us but to
abandon science and go for the Pole directly the season for sledging was
advanced enough to make travelling possible after the winter. It now
became a question of dogs versus ponies, for the main bulk of our stuff
must of necessity be pony-drawn unless we could rely on the motor
sledges--nobody believed we could. However, all the arguing in the world
wouldn't push Amundsen and his dogs off the Antarctic continent and we
had to put the best face on our disappointment. Captain Scott took it
very bravely, better than any of us, I think, for he had done already
such wonderful work down here. It was he who initiated and founded
Antarctic sledge travelling, it was he who had blazed the trail, as it
were, and we were very very sorry for him, for such news, such a menace,
could hardly be expected to give him a happy winter.
Scott did the best thing under the circumstances: he set us all to work
on the 23rd February to get out three weeks' men provisions for eight men
from the stores at Safety Camp, and these collected and packed, he,
Cherry-Garrard, and Crean took a 10-ft. sledge, and Forde, Atkinson, and
myself a 12-ft. one, while Keohane and James Pigg pulled another big
sledge containing oats and paraffin, and we all set out in a bunch for
Corner Camp, thirty odd miles away. All this depot work meant an easy
start next season, since the transport of great loads over sea ice and
the deep, soft snow, which is usually encountered when first getting on
to the Barrier hereabouts, would strain the ponies' legs and break the
hearts of the dogs. Scott thought all this out and certainly overcame
preliminary difficulties by getting so much pony food, provision, and
paraffin out to One Ton Camp and Corner Camp. He felt the benefit next
springtime. This second little run out is not worth describing; we
sighted Bowers's party coming back with the five ponies whilst we were
camped one night, and we noted that they were travelling very quickly,
which proved all was well with these animals.
On arrival at Corner Camp Scott left us in order to get back and see the
five ponies safely conducted to Hut Point. He instructed me to make easy
marches with our friend James Pigg as there was no further work for him
this season. Cherry-Garrard and Crean accompanied Scott, and the three
pushed on at their utmost for blizzard weather had come again and the
snow fall was considerable.
We must now follow Captain Scott's and Bowers's party, who, in
conjunction, engaged on the problem of getting five ponies and two dog
teams to Hut Point. There did not seem to be anything in doing this, but
if ever a man's footsteps were dogged by misfortune, they surely were our
leader's.
Scott sent Cherry-Garrard and Crean with Bowers and four ponies across
the sea ice from the Barrier edge to reach Hut Point on March 1. He
himself had remained with Oates and Gran to tend the pony Weary Willie, a
gutless creature compared to the others, which was showing signs of
failing. Weary Willie died for no apparent reason, unless his loss of
condition was due to the blizzards we encountered on the depot journey.
Bowers and Co. made a good start, but the ponies they had were
undoubtedly tired and listless after their hard journey, they were also
in bad condition and frequently had to be rested. When they had advanced
some way towards Hut Point over good strong sea ice, cracks became
apparent and a slight swell showed Bowers that the sea ice was actually
on the move. Directly this was appreciated his party turned and hastened
back, but the ice was drifting out to sea. The ponies behaved splendidly,
jumping the ever widening cracks with extraordinary sagacity, whilst
Bowers and his two companions launched the sledges over the water spaces
in order not to risk the ponies' legs. Eventually they reached what
looked like a safe place and, since men and ponies were thoroughly
exhausted, camp was pitched and the weary party soon fell asleep, but at
4.30 the next morning Bowers awoke hearing a strange noise. He opened the
tent and found the party in a dreadful plight--the ice had again
commenced to break up and they were surrounded by water. One of the
ponies had disappeared into the sea. Camp was again struck and for five
hours this plucky little party fought their way over three-quarters of a
mile of drifting ice. They never for an instant thought of abandoning
their charge, realising that Scott's Polar plans would in all probability
be ruined if four more ponies were lost with their sledges and equipment.
Crean, with great gallantry, went for support, clambering with difficulty
over the ice. He jumped from floe to floe and at last climbed up the face
of the Barrier from a piece of ice which swung round in the tideway and
just touched the ice cliff at the right moment. Cherry-Garrard stayed
with Bowers at his request, for this undaunted little seaman would never
give up his charge while a gleam of hope remained.
For a whole day these two were afloat on a floe about 150 ft. square, all
the ice around was broken up into similar floes, which were rising and
falling at least a foot to the heavy swell. A moderate breeze was blowing
from the eastward, and nothing was visible above the haze and frost smoke
except the tops of two islands named White and Black Islands, and the
hills around Hut Point. Whilst Crean was clambering over bits of ice and
jumping by means of connecting pieces from one big floe to another, his
progress was watched by Bowers through the telescope of a theodolite. One
can gather how delighted Bowers must have been to see Crean eventually
high up on the Barrier in the distance, for it meant that he would
communicate with Captain Scott, whose intelligent, quick grasp, in
emergency would surely result in Gran being despatched on ski over to
Cape Evans, for he alone could do this. Once there, a boat could have
been launched and the floe party rescued. Bowers's satisfaction was
short-lived, however, since Killer whales were noticed cruising amongst
the loose ice, and these soon became numerous, some of them actually
inspecting the floe by poking their noses up and taking an almost
perpendicular position in the water, when their heads would be raised
right above the floe edge. The situation looked dangerous, for the whales
were evidently after the ponies. The wind fell light as the day
progressed and the swell decreased and vanished altogether. This
fortunately resulted in the floes closing near to the Barrier, and the
open water spaces decreased then to such a degree that the party were
able to bridge the cracks by using their sledges until they worked the
whole of their equipment up to the Barrier face, where Bowers and
Cherry-Garrard were rescued by Scott, Oates, Gran, and Crean. After a
further piece of manoeuvring a pony and all the sledges were recovered,
the three other ponies were drowned. Only those who have served in the
Antarctic can realise fully what Bowers's party and also Scott's own
rescue party went through.
The incident which terminated in the loss of three more of our ponies
cast a temporary gloom over the depot party when we reassembled in the
safety of the old ramshackle magnetic lean-to at Hut Point. I use the
word lean-to because one could hardly describe it as a hut, for the
building was with out insulation, snow filled the space between ceiling
and roof, and whenever a fire was kindled or heat generated, water
dripped down in steady pit-a-pat until there was no dry floor space worth
the name.
It might be interesting to touch on the experiences of our friend James
Pigg, for this pony can only be described as a quaint but friendly little
rogue. He and Keohane seemed to have their own jokes apart from us. We
were left to ourselves on the 27th February, while Scott, as stated,
pushed forward to Safety Camp, "we," meaning Atkinson, Forde, Keohane,
and myself. We were kept in camp on the 27th by a strong blizzard, and
the next day when the weather abated, during our forenoon march James
Pigg fell into a crevasse, quite a small one, and his girth, through so
much high feeding, jammed him by his stomach and prevented him falling
far down. The whole situation was ridiculous. We parbuckled him out by
means of the Alpine rope, which was quickly detached from the sledge,
James Pigg taking a lively interest in the proceedings, and finally
rolling over on his back and kicking himself to his feet as we four
dragged him up to the surface. This done, Keohane looking very Irish and
smiling, bent over and peered down into the bluey depths of the crevasse
and, to our intense amusement, James Pigg strolled over alongside of him
and hung his head down too. He then turned to Keohane, who patted his
nose and said, "That was a near shave for you, James Pigg!"
We got to Safety Camp on the evening of March 1 and found two notes from
Captain Scott directing us to make for Hut Point via Castle Rock, and
notifying us that the sea ice was all on the move. We had an interesting
climb next day, but a very difficult one, for we were on the go from 9
a.m. until after 11 that night. First we found our way over the Barrier
Ice to the foot of the slope leading up to the ice ridge northward of
Castle Rock. Here we tethered James Pigg and spent some hours getting our
gear and sledges up the slope. We had no crampons for this work as they
were all on Scott's own sledge, so that it was necessary at times to pull
up the slopes on hands and knees, assisted by our ski sticks, an unusual
procedure but the only one possible to employ on the steeper blue ice. We
took the sledges up one by one and then went down with an Alpine rope to
help James Pigg. We found the pony very bored at our long absence; he
neighed and whinnied when we came down to him, and, to our great
surprise, went up the long, steep slope with far greater ease than we did
ourselves.
It was out of the question for us to proceed the four and a half miles
along the ridges which led down to Hut Point, for darkness had set in and
we had no wish to repeat the performance of an earlier expedition when a
man lost his life hereabouts through slipping right over one of these
steep slopes into the sea on the western side of the promontory ridge
which terminates at Hut Point.
It was snowing when we turned in and still snowing on March 3 when we
turned out of our sleeping-bags. James Pigg, quite snug, clothed in his
own, Blossom's, and Blücher's rugs, had a little horseshoe shelter built
up round him. We did not know at this time of the pony disaster, but,
thinking Captain Scott might be anxious if he got no word as to our
whereabouts or movements, Atkinson and I started to march along the ice
ridges of Castle Rock and make our way to Hut Point. It was blowing hard
and very cold, but the joy of walking on firm ice without a sledge to
drag was great. When finally we came to the old "Discovery" hut at lunch
time, we found Wilson, Meares, and Gran in very low spirits. They told us
that Bowers and Cherry-Garrard were adrift on an ice floe and the
remainder of the party had gone to the rescue along the Barrier edge. We
were much downcast by this news, and after a meal of biscuit and tea,
started back for our camp. The weather was now clearer, and we could see
some way out over the Barrier; we could also see the sea looking very
blue against the white expanse of ice.
On the way back we discussed a plan and arranged that we should leave
Keohane with the pony, take a sledge, and make our way along the ice edge
of the Barrier searching for Scott and joining up with him, but just
before descending to the hollow where our tent was we spied a sledge
party on the Barrier and, on reaching our camp, were delighted to see
through my telescope six men. Thank God! This meant that all were safe.
We went out to meet the party, reaching them about 8 p.m. where they had
camped, a couple of miles from Cape Armitage, between two pressure ridges
that formed great frozen waves. Bowers told me that when Scott's party
attempted to save the horses at the Barrier edge, rotten ice and open
water leads were the cause of their downfall, and when the horses slipped
into the sea, that he had been compelled to kill his own pony with a
pickaxe to save him being taken alive by one of the Orcas or Killer
whales. The only horse saved was Captain Scott's, one of the best we had
in that Expedition.
I think the Irish sailors must have spoilt James Pigg, for, when
eventually we got Scott's sledge loads up to the hill-crest where our
camp was, James Pigg, instead of welcoming the other pony, broke adrift,
and jumping into the new-comer's shelter, leapt on him, kicked him and
bit him in the back. On March 5 we all started for Hut Point, having
previously sent in Atkinson with the good news that no men's lives were
lost. Wilson and party met us near Castle Rock and led the ponies in
while we dropped the laden sledges, full of pony harness, tents, and
sledging gear, with a sufficiency of pony fodder for a fortnight, down
the ski-slope to Hut Point. It was a fine bit of toboganning and Captain
Scott showed himself to be far more expert than any of us in controlling
a sledge on a slippery slope.
We soon got into the way of climbing around on seemingly impossible
slopes and could negotiate the steepest of hills and the slipperiest of
steep inclines. It was largely a question of good crampons, which we
fortunately possessed.
The month of March and the first half of April, 1911, proved to be the
most profitless and unsatisfactory part of the Expedition. This was due
to a long compulsory wait at Hut Point, for we could not cross the
fifteen miles that lay between our position there and the Cape Evans
Station until sea ice had formed, which could be counted on not to break
away and take us into the Ross Sea in its northward drift. Time after
time the sea froze over to a depth of a foot or even more and time and
again we made ready to start for Cape Evans to find that on the day of
departure the ice had all broken and drifted out of sight. As it was, we
were safely, if not comfortably, housed at Hut Point, with the two dog
teams and the two remaining ponies, existing in rather primitive fashion
with seal meat for our principal diet. By the end of the first week in
March we had converted the veranda, which ran round three sides of the
old magnetic hut, into dog and pony shelters, two inner compartments were
screened off by bulkheads made of biscuit cases, a cook's table was
somehow fashioned and a reliable stove erected out of petrol tins and
scrap-iron. Our engineers in this work of art were Oates and Meares. For
a short while we burnt wood in the stove, but the day soon came when seal
blubber was substituted, and the heat from the burning grease was
sufficient to cook any kind of dish likely to be available, and also to
heat the hut after a fashion.
Round the stove we built up benches to sit on for meals, and two sleeping
spaces were chosen and made snug by using felt, of which a quantity had
been left by Scott's or Shackleton's people. The "Soldier" and Meares
unearthed same fire bricks and a stove pipe from the debris heap outside
the hut and then we were spared the great discomfort of being smoked out
whenever a fire was lit. An awning left by the "Discovery" was fixed up
by several of us around the sleeping and cooking space, and although
rather short of luxuries such as sugar and flour, we were never in any
great want of good plain food.
On March 14 the depot party was joined by Griffith Taylor, Debenham,
Wright, and Petty Officer Evans.
Taylor's team had been landed by the "Terra Nova" on January 27, after
the start of the depot party, to make a geological reconnaissance. In the
course of their journeying they had traversed the Ferrar Glacier and then
come down a new glacier, which Scott named after Taylor, and descended
into Dry Valley, so called because it was entirely free from snow.
Taylor's way had led him and his party over a deep fresh-water lake, four
miles long, which was only surface frozen--this lake was full of algae.
The gravels below a promising region of limestones rich in garnets were
washed for gold, but only magnetite was found. When Taylor had thoroughly
explored and examined the region of the glaciers to the westward of Cape
Evans, his party retraced their footsteps and proceeded southward to
examine the Koettlitz Glacier. Scott had purposely sent Seaman Evans with
this party of geologists, reasoning with his usual thoughtfulness that
Evans's sledging experience would be invaluable to Taylor and his
companions.
Taylor and his party made wonderful maps and had a wonderful store of
names, which they bestowed upon peak, pinnacle, and pool to fix in their
memories the relative positions of the things they saw. Griffith Taylor
had a remarkable gift of description, and his Antarctic book, "The Silver
Lining," contains some fine anecdotes and narrative.
According to Taylor's chart the Koettlitz Glacier at its outflow on to
the Great Ice Barrier is at least ten miles wide. The party proceeded
along the north of the glacier for a considerable distance, sketching,
surveying, photographing, and making copious notes of the geological and
physiographical conditions in the neighbourhood, and one may say
fearlessly that no Antarctic expedition ever sailed yet with geologists
and physicists who made better use of the time at their disposal,
especially whilst doing field work.
This party hung on with their exploration work until prudence told them
that they must return from the Koettlitz Glacier before the season closed
in. Their return trip led them along the edge of the almost impenetrable
pinnacle of ice which is one of the wonders of the Antarctic. Their
journey led them also through extraordinary and difficult ice-fields that
even surprised the veteran sledger Evans. Their final march took them
along the edge of the Great Ice Barrier and brought them to Hut Point on
March 14.
We now numbered sixteen at this congested station; the sun was very
little above the horizon and gales were so bad that spray dashed over the
small hut occasionally, whilst all round the low-lying parts of the coast
wonderful spray ridges of ice were formed. We had our proportion of
blizzard days and suffered somewhat from the cold, for it was rarely
calm. Some of us began to long for the greater comforts of the Cape Evans
Hut; there was no day, no hour in fact, when some one did not climb up
the hillock which was surmounted by the little wooden cross put up in
memory of Seaman Vince of the "Discovery" expedition, to see and note the
ice conditions.
Winter was coming fast and night shadows of cruel dark purple added to
the natural gloom of Hut Point and its environments. Wilson was the one
man amongst us who profited most from our sojourn here. In spite of bad
light and almost frozen fingers he managed to make an astonishing
collection of sketches, portraying the autumn scenes near this corner of
Ross Isle. How sinister and relentless the western mountains looked, how
cold and unforgiving the foothills, and how ashy gray the sullen icefoots
that girt this sad, frozen land.
There was, of course, no privacy in the crowded hut-space, and when
evening came it was sometimes rather a relief to get away to some
sheltered corner and look out over the Sound. The twilight shades and
colours were beautiful in a sad sort of way, but the stillness was awful.
Whenever the wind fell light new ice would form which seemed to crack and
be churned up with every cat's-paw of wind. The currents and tidal
streams would slowly carry these pancakes of ice up and down the Strait
until the weather was calm enough and cold enough to cement them together
till they formed floes, which in their turn froze fast into great white
icefields strong enough to bear us and any weights we liked to take
along. One often turned in, confident that a passage could be made over
the frozen sea to Glacier Tongue at least, but in the morning everything
would be changed and absolutely no ice would be visible floating in the
sea. When Taylor's party had rested a little at Hut Point they threw in
their lot with the rest of us and made occasional trips out on the silent
Barrier as far as Corner Camp, to add sledge loads of provisions now and
again to the stores already depoted there in readiness for the southern
sledge journey, on which we built our hopes for ultimate triumph.
Eight of us went out for a week's sledging on March 16, but the
temperatures were now becoming too low to be pleasant and touching 40
degrees or so below zero. What tried us more than anything else was thick
weather and the fearfully bad light on days when no landmarks were
visible to guide us to the depot. Our sleeping-bags also were frozen and
uncomfortable, thick rime collecting on the insides of our tents which
every puff of wind would shake down in a shower of ice. When sitting
round on our rolled-up sleeping-bags at meal times we could not help our
heads and shoulders brushing off patches of this frost rime, which soon
accumulated in the fur of the sleeping-bags and made life at night a
clammy misery. The surfaces were very heavy, and dragging even light
sledges when returning from the depot proved a laborious business.
This autumn time gave a series of gales and strong winds with scarcely
ever more than a few hours of calm or gentle breeze, sandwiched in
between. Sometimes we used ski, but there are occasions when ski are
quite useless, owing to snow binding in great clogs underneath them. The
Norwegians use different kinds of paraffin wax and compositions of tar
and other ingredients for overcoming this difficulty. Gran had brought
from Christiania the best of these compositions, nevertheless there were
days when whatever we put on we had difficulty with ski and had to cast
them aside. There were people who preferred foot-slogging to ski at any
time, and there were certainly days when teams on foot would literally
dance round men pulling on ski. In the light of experience, however, the
expert ski-runner has enormous advantage over the "foot-slogger," however
good an athlete.
What strikes me here is the dreadful similarity in weather condition,
wind, temperature, etc., surface and visibility to that which culminated
in the great disaster of our expedition and resulted in poor Scott's
death exactly a year later. Here is a day taken haphazard from my diary:
"From Corner Camp to Hut Point:
"March 18, 1911.--Called the hands at 6.15 and after a fine warming
breakfast started off on ski. The light was simply awful and the
surface very bad, but we did six miles, then lunched. After lunch
carried on with a strong wind blowing, but after very heavy dragging
we were forced to camp when only nine and a half miles had been laid
between us--we really couldn't see ten yards. Just after we camped the
wind increased to about force 6, alternately freshening up and dying
away, and a good deal of snow fell. Temperature 32.5 below zero."
One year later Scott was facing weather conditions and surfaces almost
identical, but the difference lay in that he had marched more than
sixteen hundred miles, was short of food, and his party were suffering
from the tragic loss of two of their companions and the intense
disappointment of having made this great sledge journey for their
country's honour to find that all their efforts had been in vain, and
that they had been anticipated by men who had borne thither the flag of
another nation.
When Scott found that we sledgers were getting temperatures as low as
minus forty he decided to discontinue sledging rather than risk anything
in the nature of severe frostbite assailing the party and rendering them
unfit for further work, for it must be remembered that we had already
been away from our base ten weeks, that many of us had never sledged
before, and that the depot journey was partly undertaken to give us
sledging experience and to point out what improvements could be made in
our clothing and equipment.
The first and second weeks in April brought the ice changes that we had
so long awaited, and after one or two false starts two teams set out from
Hut Point on April 11 to make their way across the fifteen miles of sea
ice to Cape Evans.
This turned out to be a somewhat hazardous journey, since it had to be
made in the half light with overcast weather and hard wind. Scott took
charge of one tent and had with him Bowers, Griffith Taylor, and Petty
Officer Evans, while I had in my party Wright, Debenham, Gran, and Crean.
The seven who remained at Hut Point in charge of dogs and ponies helped
us out a league or so for the first part of our journey.
The route led first up the steep ice slope over-hanging Hut Point, and
then to the summit of the ridge, which is best described as the Castle
Rock promontory. Our sojourn at Hut Point had given us plenty of chance
to learn the easier snow roads and the least dangerous, and Scott chose
the way close eastward of Castle Rock to a position four miles beyond it,
which his first expedition had named Hutton Cliffs. From Castle Rock
onward the way took us to the westward of two conical hills which were
well-known landmarks--a hitherto untrodden route--but the going was by no
means bad. Bitingly cold for faces and finger-tips, still, no weights to
impede us. We camped for lunch after covering seven miles, for the light
was bad, but it improved surprisingly whilst we were eating our meal.
Accordingly, we put on our crampons about 3 p.m. and struck camp,
securely packing the two green tents on the sledges, and casting a
careful eye round the loads, tightened a strap here, hitched there, and
then led by Scott we made a careful descent to the precipitous edge of
the ice cap which overlays the promontory. We got well down to a part
that seemed to overhang the sea and, to our delight, found a good
solid-looking ice-sheet below us which certainly extended as far as
Glacier Tongue. The drop here was twenty-five feet or so and Taylor and I
were lowered over the cornice in an Alpine rope, then Wright and then the
sledges, after that the remainder of the party. An ash-pole was driven
into the snow and the last few members sent down in a bowline at one end
of the rope whilst we below eased them down with the other part. The two
parts of the Alpine rope working round the pole cut deeply into the
over-hanging snow and brought a shower of ice crystals pouring over the
heads and shoulders of whoever was sitting in the bowline. It was a good
piece of work getting everything down safely, and I admired Scott's
decision to go over; a more nervous man would have fought shy because,
once down on the sea ice there was little chance of our getting back and
we had got to fight our way forward to Cape Evans somehow.
When Taylor and I got first down we were greeted with a weird and
wonderful sight: constant drifts of snow had formed a great overhang and
the ice cliff was wreathed in a mass of snowy curtains and folds which
took all manner of fantastic turns and shapes. A fresh wind was blowing
continuously that made it most unpleasant for those above, and it was a
relief to us all when the last man was passed down in safety, it was
Scott himself.
We quickly harnessed up again and swung out over the sea ice towards
Glacier Tongue, the cliffs of which stood out in a hard, white line to
the northward, a couple of miles away. Arrived at the Tongue, Bowers and
I clambered up a ten-foot cliff face by standing on Wright's and Crean's
shoulders. We then reached down and hauled up the sledges and the others,
harnessed up again, and proceeded to cross the Glacier, which was full of
small crevasses. We reached the northern side of it and went down an easy
snow slope to the sea ice beyond. As far as one could see this ice
continued right up to and around Cape Evans, seven miles away to the N.W.
It was now 6.30 p.m.; Scott halted us and discussed our readiness to make
a night march into the winter quarters. There was not one dissentient
voice, and we gladly started off at 8 o'clock for a night march to our
snug and comfortable hut, picturing to ourselves a supper of all things
luxurious. Our feet seemed suddenly to have taken wings, but, alas, the
supper was not to be, for thick weather set in, and when, by 10 o'clock
the wind was blowing hard and it was pitch dark, Scott suddenly decided
to camp under the shelter of Little Razorback Island, where by that time
we had arrived. We passed a filthy night here, for the snow on the sea
ice was saturated with brine and, in no time, our sleeping-bags became
wet and sticky.
Next day we were called at six to find a blizzard with a high drift
making it impossible to move, so we remained in our bags until 4 p.m.,
when we shifted on to the narrow platform of rock situated on the south
side of Little Razorback. We had one small meal here, but our condition
was not a pleasant one, since little food remained and fuel was short.
There was undoubtedly a chance that the sea ice would break up and drift
away in this high wind. Had that happened we should have been left to
starve on the tiny island. The position was not an enviable one. We got
back into our bags, which were, as stated, wet and beastly, after a
scanty supper and tried to sleep, but our feet were wet too, and cold, so
that few of us could do more than close our eyes. The night passed slowly
enough, and we turned out at 7 a.m. to cook what remained of our food
before attempting to make Cape Evans. We were glad that it had stopped
snowing and, although the light was bad enough, we could just make out
the ice foot showing up bold and white on the south side of the Cape.
After the meal we struck camp, formed marching order, and started half
running for winter quarters. Covering a couple of miles we found, to our
great relief, that the fast ice not only extended up to the Cape but
right round into North Bay. We soon sighted the hut, and shortly after
saw some people working outside. Directly they saw us in they ran to
bring the others out at full speed, and coming to meet us they cheered
and greeted us, then hauled our sledges in. It appeared they were unable
to recognise any of us owing to our dirty and dishevelled state. This was
not to be wondered at, for we had not washed nor had we shaved for eighty
days: We all talked hard and exchanged news. Ponting lined us up to be
photographed--the first nine Bolshevists--we looked such awful
blackguards.
Now, April 13, 1911, as communication had been established between Hut
Point and Cape Evans, we settled down for the winter. I shall never
forget the breakfast that Clissold prepared for us at 10.30 that morning.
It was delicious--hot rolls, heaps of butter, milk, sugar, jam, a fine
plate of tomato soup, and fried seal cooked superbly. The meal over, we
shaved, bathed, and put on clean clothes, smoked cigarettes, and took a
day's holiday. At 10 o'clock that evening, by prearrangement, Very's
lights were fired to let them know at Hut Point of our safe arrival. Our
own signal was answered by a flare. Gramophone records were dug out and
we lazily listened to Melba singing and to musical comedy tunes, those
who had energy and sufficient inclination got the pianola going, and
finally each man unfolded his little story to another member of the
Expedition who had taken no part in the sledging.
Captain Scott was delighted at the progress made by those left in our hut
under Dr. Simpson, everything was in order, the scientific programme in
full swing, and nothing in the shape of bad news beyond the loss of an
ill-tempered pony called Hackenschmidt, and one more dog that appeared to
have died from a peculiar disease--a minute thread-worm getting to his
brain, this according to Nelson who had conducted the post-mortem.