LAYING THE DEPOTS
Mackintosh’s account of the depot-laying journeys undertaken by his
parties in the summer of 1915–16 unfortunately is not available. The
leader of the parties kept a diary, but he had the book with him when
he was lost on the sea-ice in the following winter. The narrative of
the journeys has been compiled from the notes kept by Joyce, Richards,
and other members of the parties, and I may say here that it is a
record of dogged endeavour in the face of great difficulties and
serious dangers. It is always easy to be wise after the event, and one
may realize now that the use of the dogs, untrained and soft from
shipboard inactivity, on the comparatively short journey undertaken
immediately after the landing in 1915 was a mistake. The result was the
loss of nearly all the dogs before the longer and more important
journeys of 1915–16 were undertaken. The men were sledging almost
continuously during a period of six months; they suffered from
frost-bite, scurvy, snow-blindness, and the utter weariness of
overtaxed bodies. But the they placed the depots in the required
positions, and if the Weddell Sea party had been able to make the
crossing of the Antarctic continent, the stores and fuel would have
been waiting for us where we expected to find them.
The position on October 9 was that the nine men at Hut Point had with
them the stores required for the depots and for their own maintenance
throughout the summer. The remaining dogs were at Cape Evans with Gaze,
who had a sore heel and had been replaced temporarily by Stevens in the
sledging party. A small quantity of stores had been conveyed already to
Safety Camp on the edge of the Barrier beyond Hut Point. Mackintosh
intended to form a large depot off Minna Bluff, seventy miles out from
Hut Point. This would necessitate several trips with heavy loads. Then
he would use the Bluff depot as a base for the journey to Mount Hope,
at the foot of the Beardmore Glacier, where the final depot was to be
laid.
The party left Hut Point on the morning of October 9, the nine men
hauling on one rope and trailing three loaded sledges. They reached
Safety Camp in the early afternoon, and, after repacking the sledges
with a load of about 2000 lbs., they began the journey over the
Barrier. The pulling proved exceedingly heavy, and they camped at the
end of half a mile. It was decided next day to separate the sledges,
three men to haul each sledge. Mackintosh hoped that better progress
could be made in this way. The distance for the day was only four
miles, and the next day’s journey was no better. Joyce mentions that he
had never done harder pulling, the surface being soft, and the load
amounting to 220 lbs. per man. The new arrangement was not a success,
owing to differences in hauling capacity and inequalities in the
loading of the sledges; and on the morning of the 12th, Mackintosh,
after consultation, decided to push forward with Wild and
Spencer-Smith, hauling one sledge and a relatively light load, and
leave Joyce and the remaining five men to bring two sledges and the
rest of the stores at their best pace. This arrangement was maintained
on the later journeys. The temperatures were falling below –30° Fahr.
at some hours, and, as the men perspired freely while hauling their
heavy loads in the sun, they suffered a great deal of discomfort in the
damp and freezing clothes at night. Joyce cut down his load on the 13th
by depot-ing some rations and spare clothing, and made better progress.
He was building snow-cairns as guide-posts for use on the return
journey. He mentions passing some large crevasses during succeeding
days. Persistent head winds with occasional drift made the conditions
unpleasant and caused many frost-bites. When the surface was hard, and
the pulling comparatively easy, the men slipped and fell continually,
“looking much like classical dancers.”
On the 20th a northerly wind made possible the use of a sail, and
Joyce’s party made rapid progress. Jack sighted a bamboo pole during
the afternoon; and Joyce found that marked a depot he had laid for my
own “Farthest South” party in 1908. He dug down in the hope of finding
some stores, but the depot had been cleared. The party reached the
Bluff depot on the evening of the 21st and found that Mackintosh had
been there on the 19th. Mackintosh had left 178 lbs. of provisions, and
Joyce left one sledge and 273 lbs. of stores. The most interesting
incident of the return journey was the discovery of a note left by Mr.
Cherry Garrard for Captain Scott on March 19, 1912, only a few days
before the latter perished at his camp farther south. An upturned
sledge at this point was found to mark a depot of dog-biscuit and
motor-oil, laid by one of Captain Scott’s parties. Joyce reached Safety
Camp on the afternoon of the 27th, and, after dumping all spare gear,
pushed on to Hut Point in a blizzard. The sledges nearly went over a
big drop at the edge of the Barrier, and a few moments later Stevens
dropped down a crevasse to the length of his harness.
“Had a tough job getting him up, as we had no alpine rope and had to
use harness,” wrote Joyce. “Got over all right and had a very hard pull
against wind and snow, my face getting frost-bitten as I had to keep
looking up to steer. We arrived at the hut about 7.30 p.m. after a very
hard struggle. We found the Captain and his party there. They had been
in for three days. Gaze was also there with the dogs. We soon had a
good feed and forgot our hard day’s work.”
Mackintosh decided to make use of the dogs on the second journey to the
Bluff depot. He thought that with the aid of the dogs heavier loads
might be hauled. This plan involved the dispatch of a party to Cape
Evans to get dog-pemmican. Mackintosh himself, with Wild and
Spencer-Smith, started south again on October 29. Their sledge
overturned on the slope down to the sea-ice, and the rim of their
tent-spread was broken. The damage did not appear serious, and the
party soon disappeared round Cape Armitage. Joyce remained in charge at
Hut Point, with instructions to get dog food from Cape Evans and make a
start south as soon as possible. He sent Stevens, Hayward, and Cope to
Cape Evans the next day, and busied himself with the repair of
sledging-gear. Cope, Hayward, and Gaze arrived back from Cape Evans on
November 1, Stevens having stayed at the base. A blizzard delayed the
start southward, and the party did not get away until November 5. The
men pulled in harness with the four dogs, and, as the surface was soft
and the loads on the two sledges were heavy, the advance was slow. The
party covered 5 miles 700 yards on the 6th, 4 miles 300 yards on the
7th, and 8 miles 1800 yards on the 9th, with the aid of a light
northerly wind. They passed on the 9th a huge bergstrom, with a drop of
about 70 feet from the flat surface of the Barrier. Joyce thought that
a big crevasse had caved in. “We took some photographs,” wrote Joyce.
“It is a really extraordinary fill-in of ice, with cliffs of blue ice
about 70 feet high, and heavily crevassed, with overhanging
snow-curtains. One could easily walk over the edge coming from the
north in thick weather.” Another bergstrom, with crevassed ice around
it, was encountered on the 11th. Joyce reached the Bluff depot on the
evening of the 14th and found that he could leave 624 lbs. of
provisions. Mackintosh had been there several days earlier and had left
188 lbs. of stores.
Joyce made Hut Point again on November 20 after an adventurous day. The
surface was good in the morning and he pushed forward rapidly. About
10.30 a.m. the party encountered heavy pressure-ice with crevasses, and
had many narrow escapes. “After lunch we came on four crevasses quite
suddenly. Jack fell through. We could not alter course, or else we
should have been steering among them, so galloped right across. We were
going so fast that the dogs that went through were jerked out. It came
on very thick at 2 p.m. Every bit of land was obscured, and it was hard
to steer. Decided to make for Hut Point, and arrived at 6.30 p.m.,
after doing twenty-two miles, a very good performance. I had a bad
attack of snow-blindness and had to use cocaine. Hayward also had a bad
time. I was laid up and had to keep my eyes bandaged for three days.
Hayward, too.” The two men were about again on November 24, and the
party started south on its third journey to the Bluff on the 25th.
Mackintosh was some distance ahead, but the two parties met on the 28th
and had some discussion as to plans. Mackintosh was proceeding to the
Bluff depot with the intention of taking a load of stores to the depot
placed on lat. 80° S. in the first season’s sledging. Joyce, after
depositing his third load at the Bluff, would return to Hut Point for a
fourth and last load, and the parties would then join forces for the
journey southward to Mount Hope.
Joyce left 729 lbs. at the Bluff depot on December 2, reached Hut Point
on December 7, and, after allowing dogs and men a good rest, he moved
southward again on December 13. This proved to be the worst journey the
party had made. The men had much trouble with crevasses, and they were
held up by blizzards on December 16, 18, 19, 22, 23, 26, and 27. They
spent Christmas Day struggling through soft snow against an icy wind
and drift. The party reached the Bluff depot on December 28, and found
that Mackintosh, who had been much delayed by the bad weather, had gone
south two days earlier on his way to the 80° S. depot. He had not made
much progress and his camp was in sight. He had left instructions for
Joyce to follow him. The Bluff depot was now well stocked. Between 2800
and 2900 lbs. of provisions had been dragged to the depot for the use
of parties working to the south of this point. This quantity was in
addition to stores placed there earlier in the year.
Joyce left the Bluff depot on December 29, and the parties were
together two days later. Mackintosh handed Joyce instructions to
proceed with his party to lat. 81° S and place a depot there. He was
then to send three men back to Hut Point and proceed to lat. 82° S.,
where he would lay another depot. Then if provisions permitted he would
push south as far as lat. 83°. Mackintosh himself was reinforcing the
depot at lat. 80° S. and would then carry on southward. Apparently his
instructions to Joyce were intended to guard against the contingency of
the parties failing to meet. The dogs were hauling well, and though
their number was small they were of very great assistance. The parties
were now ninety days out from Cape Evans, and “all hands were feeling
fit.”
The next incident of importance was the appearance of a defect in one
of the two Primus lamps used by Joyce’s party. The lamps had all seen
service with one or other of Captain Scott’s parties, and they had not
been in first-class condition when the sledging commenced. The
threatened failure of a lamp was a matter of grave moment, since a
party could not travel without the means of melting snow and preparing
hot food. If Joyce took a faulty lamp past the 80° S. depot, his whole
party might have to turn back at lat. 81° S., and this would imperil
the success of the season’s sledging. He decided, therefore, to send
three men back from the 80° S. depot, which he reached on January 6,
1916. Cope, Gaze, and Jack were the men to return. They took the
defective Primus and a light load, and by dint of hard travelling,
without the aid of dogs, they reached Cape Evans on January 16.
Joyce, Richards, and Hayward went forward with a load of 1280 lbs.,
comprising twelve weeks’ sledging rations, dog food and depot supplies,
in addition to the sledging-gear. They built cairns at short intervals
as guides to the depots. Joyce was feeding the dogs well and giving
them a hot hoosh every third night. “It is worth it for the wonderful
amount of work they are doing. If we can keep them to 82° S. I can
honestly say it is through their work we have got through.” On January
8 Mackintosh joined Joyce, and from that point the parties, six men
strong, went forward together. They marched in thick weather during
January 10, 11, and 12, keeping the course by means of cairns, with a
scrap of black cloth on top of each one. It was possible, by keeping
the cairns in line behind the sledges and building new ones as old ones
disappeared, to march on an approximately straight line. On the evening
of the 12th they reached lat. 81° S., and built a large cairn for the
depot. The stores left here were three weeks’ rations for the ordinary
sledging unit of three men. This quantity would provide five days’
rations for twelve men, half for the use of the overland party, and
half for the depot party on its return journey.
The party moved southwards again on January 13 in bad weather.
“After a little consultation we decided to get under way,” wrote Joyce.
“Although the weather is thick, and snow is falling, it is worth while
to make the effort. A little patience with the direction and the
cairns, even if one has to put them up 200 yds. apart, enables us to
advance, and it seems that this weather will never break. We have cut
up an old pair of trousers belonging to Richards to place on the sides
of the cairns, so as to make them more prominent. It was really
surprising to find how we got on in spite of the snow and the pie-crust
surface. We did 5 miles 75 yds. before lunch. The dogs are doing
splendidly. I really don’t know how we should manage if it were not for
them.... The distance for the day was 10 miles 720 yds., a splendid
performance considering surface and weather.”
The weather cleared on the 14th; and the men were able to get bearings
from the mountains to the westward. They advanced fairly rapidly during
succeeding days, the daily distances being from ten to twelve miles,
and reached lat. 82° S. on the morning of January 18. The depot here,
like the depot at 81° S., contained five days’ provisions for twelve
men. Mackintosh was having trouble with the Primus lamp in his tent,
and this made it inadvisable to divide the party again. It was decided,
therefore, that all should proceed, and that the next and last depot
should be placed on the base of Mount Hope, at the foot of the
Beardmore Glacier, in lat. 83° 30´ S. The party proceeded at once and
advanced five miles beyond the depot before camping on the evening of
the 18th.
The sledge loads were now comparatively light, and on the 19th the
party covered 13 miles 700 yds. A new trouble was developing, for
Spencer-Smith was suffering from swollen and painful legs, and was
unable to do much pulling. Joyce wrote on the 21st that Smith was
worse, and that Mackintosh was showing signs of exhaustion. A mountain
that he believed to be Mount Hope could be seen right ahead, over
thirty miles away. Spencer-Smith, who had struggled forward gamely and
made no unnecessary complaints, started with the party the next morning
and kept going until shortly before noon. Then he reported his
inability to proceed, and Mackintosh called a halt. Spencer-Smith
suggested that he should be left with provisions and a tent while the
other members of the party pushed on to Mount Hope, and pluckily
assured Mackintosh that the rest would put him right and that he would
be ready to march when they returned. The party agreed, after a brief
consultation, to adopt this plan. Mackintosh felt that the depot must
be laid, and that delay would be dangerous. Spencer-Smith was left with
a tent, one sledge, and provisions, and told to expect the returning
party in about a week. The tent was made as comfortable as possible
inside, and food was placed within the sick man’s reach. Spencer-Smith
bade his companions a cheery good-bye after lunch, and the party was
six or seven miles away before evening. Five men had to squeeze into
one tent that night, but with a minus temperature they did not object
to being crowded.
On January 23 a thick fog obscured all landmarks, and as bearings of
the mountains were now necessary the party had to camp at 11 a.m.,
after travelling only four miles. The thick weather continued over the
24th, and the men did not move again until the morning of the 25th.
They did 17¾ miles that day, and camped at 6 p.m. on the edge of “the
biggest ice-pressure” Joyce had ever seen. They were steering in
towards the mountains and were encountering the tremendous congestion
created by the flow of the Beardmore Glacier into the barrier ice.
“We decided to keep the camp up,” ran Joyce’s account of the work done
on January 26. “Skipper, Richards, and myself roped ourselves together,
I taking the lead, to try and find a course through this pressure. We
came across very wide crevasses, went down several, came on top of a
very high ridge, and such a scene! Imagine thousands of tons of ice
churned up to a depth of about 300 ft. We took a couple of photographs,
then carried on to the east. At last we found a passage through, and
carried on through smaller crevasses to Mount Hope, or we hoped it was
the mountain by that name. We can see a great glacier ahead which we
take for the Beardmore, which this mountain is on, but the position on
the chart seems wrong. [It was not.—E.H.S.] We nearly arrived at the
ice-foot when Richards saw something to the right, which turned out to
be two of Captain Scott’s sledges, upright, but three-quarters buried
in snow. Then we knew for certain this was the place we had struggled
to get to. So we climbed the glacier on the slope and went up about one
and a quarter miles, and saw the great Beardmore Glacier stretching to
the south. It is about twenty-five miles wide—a most wonderful sight.
Then we returned to our camp, which we found to be six miles away. We
left at 8 a.m. and arrived back at 3 p.m., a good morning’s work. We
then had lunch. About 4 p.m. we got under way and proceeded with the
two sledges and camped about 7 o’clock. Wild, Hayward and myself then
took the depot up the Glacier, a fortnight’s provisions. We left it
lashed to a broken sledge and put up a large flag. I took two
photographs of it. We did not arrive back until 10.30 p.m. It was
rather a heavy pull up. I was very pleased to see our work completed at
last.... Turned in 12 o’clock. The distance done during day 22 miles.”
The party remained in camp until 3.30 p.m. on the 27th, owing to a
blizzard with heavy snow. Then they made a start in clearer weather and
got through the crevassed area before camping at 7 p.m. Joyce was
suffering from snow-blindness. They were now homeward bound, with 365
miles to go. They covered 16½ miles on the 28th, with Joyce absolutely
blind and hanging to the harness for guidance, “but still pulling his
whack.” They reached Spencer-Smith’s camp the next afternoon and found
him in his sleeping-bag, quite unable to walk. Joyce’s diary of this
date contains a rather gloomy reference to the outlook, since he
guessed that Mackintosh also would be unable to make the homeward
march. “The dogs are still keeping fit,” he added. “If they will only
last to 80° S. we shall then have enough food to take them in, and then
if the ship is in I guarantee they will live in comfort the remainder
of their lives.”
No march could be made on the 30th, since a blizzard was raging. The
party made 8 miles on the 31st, with Spencer-Smith on one of the
sledges in his sleeping-bag. The sufferer was quite helpless, and had
to be lifted and carried about, but his courage did not fail him. His
words were cheerful even when his physical suffering and weakness were
most pronounced. The distance for February 1 was 13 miles. The next
morning the party abandoned one sledge in order to lighten the load,
and proceeded with a single sledge, Spencer-Smith lying on top of the
stores and gear. The distance for the day was 15½ miles. They picked up
the 82° S. depot on February 3, and took one week’s provisions, leaving
two weeks’ rations for the overland party. Joyce, Wild, Richards, and
Hayward were feeling fit. Mackintosh was lame and weak; Spencer-Smith’s
condition was alarming. The party was being helped by strong southerly
winds, and the distances covered were decidedly good. The sledge-meter
recorded 15 miles 1700 yds. on February 4, 17 miles 1400 yds. on the
5th, 18 miles 1200 yds. on the 6th, and 13 miles 1000 yds. on the 7th,
when the 81° S. depot was picked up at 10.30 a.m., and one week’s
stores taken, two weeks’ rations being left.
The march to the next depot, at 80° S., was uneventful. The party made
good marches in spite of bad surfaces and thick weather, and reached
the depot late in the afternoon of February 12. The supply of stores at
this depot was ample, and the men took a fortnight’s rations
(calculated on a three-man basis), leaving nearly four weeks’ rations.
Spencer-Smith seemed a little better, and all hands were cheered by the
rapid advance. February 14, 15, and 16 were bad days, the soft surface
allowing the men to sink to their knees at times. The dogs had a rough
time, and the daily distances fell to about eight miles. Mackintosh’s
weakness was increasing. Then on the 18th, when the party was within
twelve miles of the Bluff depot, a furious blizzard made travelling
impossible. This blizzard raged for five days. Rations were reduced on
the second day, and the party went on half-rations the third day.
“Still blizzarding,” wrote Joyce on the 20th. “Things are serious, what
with our patient and provisions running short. Dog provisions are
nearly out, and we have to halve their rations. We are now on one cup
of hoosh among the three of us, with one biscuit and six lumps of
sugar. The most serious of calamities is that our oil is running out.
We have plenty of tea, but no fuel to cook it with.” The men in
Mackintosh’s tent were in no better plight. Mackintosh himself was in a
bad way. He was uncertain about his ability to resume the march, but
was determined to try.
“Still blizzarding,” wrote Joyce again on the 21st. “We are lying in
pools of water made by our bodies through staying in the same place for
such a long time. I don’t know what we shall do if this does not ease.
It has been blowing continuously without a lull. The food for to-day
was one cup of pemmican amongst three of us, one biscuit each, and two
cups of tea among the three.” The kerosene was exhausted, but Richards
improvised a lamp by pouring some spirit (intended for priming the
oil-lamp) into a mug, lighting it, and holding another mug over it. It
took half an hour to heat a mug of melted snow in this way. “Same old
thing, no ceasing of this blizzard,” was Joyce’s note twenty-four hours
later. “Hardly any food left except tea and sugar. Richards, Hayward,
and I, after a long talk, decided to get under way to-morrow in any
case, or else we shall be sharing the fate of Captain Scott and his
party. The other tent seems to be very quiet, but now and again we hear
a burst of song from Wild, so they are in the land of the living. We
gave the dogs the last of their food to-night, so we shall have to
push, as a great deal depends on them.” Further quotations from Joyce’s
diary tell their own story.
“_February_ 23, _Wednesday_.—About 11 o’clock saw a break in the clouds
and the sun showing. Decided to have the meal we kept for getting under
way. Sang out to the Skipper’s party that we should shift as soon as we
had a meal. I asked Wild, and found they had a bag of oatmeal, some
Bovril cubes, one bag of chocolate, and eighteen biscuits, so they are
much better off than we are. After we had our meal we started to dig
out our sledge, which we found right under. It took us two hours, and
one would hardly credit how weak we were. Two digs of the shovel and we
were out of breath. This was caused through our lying up on practically
no food. After getting sledge out we took it around to the Skipper’s
tent on account of the heavy sastrugi, which was very high. Got under
way about 2.20. Had to stop very often on account of sail, etc. About
3.20 the Skipper, who had tied himself to the rear of the sledge, found
it impossible to proceed. So after a consultation with Wild and party,
decided to pitch their tent, leaving Wild to look after the Skipper and
Spencer-Smith, and make the best of our way to the depot, which is
anything up to twelve miles away. So we made them comfortable and left
them about 3.40. I told Wild I should leave as much as possible and get
back 26th or 27th, weather permitting, but just as we left them it came
on to snow pretty hard, sun going in, and we found even with the four
dogs we could not make more than one-half to three-quarters of a mile
an hour. The surface is so bad that sometimes you go in up to your
waist; still in spite of all this we carried on until 6.35. Camped in a
howling blizzard. I found my left foot badly frost-bitten. Now after
this march we came into our banquet—one cup of tea and half a biscuit.
Turned in at 9 o’clock. Situation does not look very cheerful. This is
really the worst surface I have ever come across in all my journeys
here.”
Mackintosh had stayed on his feet as long as was humanly possible. The
records of the outward journey show clearly that he was really unfit to
continue beyond the 82° S. depot, and other members of the party would
have liked him to have stayed with Spencer-Smith at lat. 83° S. But the
responsibility for the work to be done was primarily his, and he would
not give in. He had been suffering for several weeks from what he
cheerfully called “a sprained leg,” owing to scurvy. He marched for
half an hour on the 23rd before breaking down, but had to be supported
partly by Richards. Spencer-Smith was sinking. Wild, who stayed in
charge of the two invalids, was in fairly good condition. Joyce,
Richards, and Hayward, who had undertaken the relief journey, were all
showing symptoms of scurvy, though in varying degrees. Their legs were
weak, their gums swollen. The decision that the invalids, with Wild,
should stay in camp from February 24, while Joyce’s party pushed
forward to Bluff depot, was justified fully by the circumstances.
Joyce, Richards, and Hayward had difficulty in reaching the depot with
a nearly empty sledge. An attempt to make their journey with two
helpless men might have involved the loss of the whole party.
“_February_ 24, _Thursday_.—Up at 4:30; had one cup of tea, half
biscuit; under way after 7. Weather, snowing and blowing like
yesterday. Richards, laying the cairns had great trouble in getting the
compass within 10° on account of wind. During the forenoon had to stop
every quarter of an hour on account of our breath. Every time the
sledge struck a drift she stuck in (although only 200 lbs.), and in
spite of three men and four dogs we could only shift her with the 1—2—3
haul. I wonder if this weather will ever clear up. Camped in an
exhausted condition about 12.10. Lunch, half cup of weak tea and
quarter biscuit, which took over half an hour to make. Richards and
Hayward went out of tent to prepare for getting under way, but the
force of wind and snow drove them back. The force of wind is about
seventy to eighty miles per hour. We decided to get the sleeping-bags
in, which took some considerable time. The worst of camping is the poor
dogs and our weak condition, which means we have to get out of our wet
sleeping-bags and have another half cup of tea without working for it.
With scrapings from dog-tank it is a very scanty meal. This is the
second day the dogs have been without food, and if we cannot soon pick
up depot and save the dogs it will be almost impossible to drag our two
invalids back the one hundred miles which we have to go. The wind
carried on with unabating fury until 7 o’clock, and then came a lull.
We at once turned out, but found it snowing so thickly that it was
impossible to proceed on account of our weakness. No chance must we
miss. Turned in again. Wind sprang up again with heavy drift 8.30. In
spite of everything my tent-mates are very cheerful and look on the
bright side of everything. After a talk we decided to wait and turned
in. It is really wonderful what dreams we have, especially of food.
Trusting in Providence for fine weather to-morrow.
“_February_ 25, _Friday_.—Turned out 4.45. Richards prepared our usual
banquet, half cup of tea, quarter biscuit, which we relished. Under way
at 7, carried on, halting every ten minutes or quarter of an hour.
Weather, snowing and blowing same as yesterday. We are in a very weak
state, but we cannot give in. We often talk about poor Captain Scott
and the blizzard that finished him and party. If we had stayed in our
tent another day I don’t think we should have got under way at all, and
we would have shared the same fate. But if the worst comes we have made
up our minds to carry on and die in harness. If any one were to see us
on trek they would be surprised, three men staggering on with four
dogs, very weak; practically empty sledge with fair wind and just
crawling along; our clothes are all worn out, finneskoe and sleeping
bags torn. Tent is our worst point, all torn in front, and we are
afraid to camp on account of it, as it is too cold to mend it. We
camped for our grand lunch at noon. After five hours’ struggling I
think we did about three miles. After lunch sat in our tent talking
over the situation. Decided to get under way again as soon as there is
any clearance. Snowing and blowing, force about fifty or sixty miles an
hour.
“_February_ 26, _Saturday_.—Richards went out 1.10 a.m. and found it
clearing a bit, so we got under way as soon as possible, which was 2.10
a.m. About 2.35 Richards sighted depot, which seemed to be right on top
of us. I suppose we camped no more than three-quarters of a mile from
it. The dogs sighted it, which seemed to electrify them. They had new
life and started to run, but we were so weak that we could not go more
than 200 yds. and then spell. I think another day would have seen us
off. Arrived at depot 3.25; found it in a dilapidated condition, cases
all about the place. I don’t suppose there has ever been a weaker party
arrive at any depot, either north or south. After a hard struggle got
our tent up and made camp. Then gave the dogs a good feed of pemmican.
If ever dogs saved the lives of any one they have saved ours. Let us
hope they will continue in good health, so that we can get out to our
comrades. I started on our cooking. Not one of us had any appetite,
although we were in the land of plenty, as we call this depot; plenty
of biscuit, etc., but we could not eat. I think it is the reaction, not
only in arriving here, but also finding no news of the ship, which was
arranged before we left. We all think there has been a calamity there.
Let us hope for the best. We decided to have rolled-oats and milk for a
start, which went down very well, and then a cup of tea. How cheery the
Primus sounds. It seems like coming out of a thick London fog into a
drawing-room. After a consultation we decided to have a meal of
pemmican in four hours, and so on, until our weakness was gone.
_Later_.—Still the same weather. We shall get under way and make a
forced march back as soon as possible. I think we shall get stronger
travelling and feeding well. _Later_.—Weather will not permit us to
travel yet. Mended our torn tent with food-bags. This took four hours.
Feeding the dogs every four hours, and Richards and Hayward built up
depot. It is really surprising to find it takes two men to lift a
50-lb. case; it only shows our weakness. Weather still the same; force
of wind at times about seventy to ninety miles an hour; really
surprising how this can keep on so long.
“_February_ 27, _Sunday_.—Wind continued with fury the whole night.
Expecting every minute to have the tent blown off us. Up 5 o’clock;
found it so thick one could not get out of the tent. We are still very
weak, but think we can do the twelve miles to our comrades in one long
march. If only it would clear up for just one day we would not mind.
This is the longest continuous blizzard I have ever been in. We have
not had a travelling day for eleven days, and the amount of snow that
has fallen is astonishing. _Later_.—Had a meal 10.30 and decided to get
under way in spite of the wind and snow. Under way 12 o’clock. We have
three weeks’ food on sledge, about 160 lbs., and one week’s dog-food,
50 lbs. The whole weight, all told, about 600 lbs., and also taking an
extra sledge to bring back Captain Mackintosh. To our surprise we could
not shift the sledges. After half an hour we got about ten yards. We
turned the sledge up and scraped runners; it went a little better
after. I am afraid our weakness is much more than we think. Hayward is
in rather a bad way about his knees, which are giving him trouble and
are very painful; we will give him a good massage when we camp. The
dogs have lost all heart in pulling; they seem to think that going
south again is no good to them; they seem to just jog along, and one
cannot do more. I don’t suppose our pace is more than one-half or
three-quarters of a mile per hour. The surface is rotten, snow up to
one’s knees, and what with wind and drift a very bad outlook. Lunched
about 4.30. Carried on until 11.20, when we camped. It was very dark
making our dinner, but soon got through the process. Then Richards
spent an hour or so in rubbing Hayward with methylated spirits, which
did him a world of good. If he were to break up now I should not know
what to do. Turned in about 1.30. It is now calm, but overcast with
light falling snow.
“_February_ 28, _Monday_.—Up at 6 o’clock; can just see a little
sky-line. Under way at 9 o’clock. The reason of delay, had to mend
finneskoe, which are in a very dilapidated condition. I got my feet
badly frost-bitten yesterday. About 11 o’clock came on to snow,
everything overcast. We ought to reach our poor boys in three or four
hours, but Fate wills otherwise, as it came on again to blizzard force
about 11.45. Camped at noon. I think the party must be within a very
short distance, but we cannot go on as we might pass them, and as we
have not got any position to go on except compass. _Later_.—Kept on
blizzarding all afternoon and night.
“_February_ 29, _Tuesday_.—Up at 5 o’clock; still very thick. It
cleared up a little to the south about 8 o’clock, when Richards sighted
something black to the north of us, but could not see properly what it
was. After looking round sighted camp to the south, so we got under way
as soon as possible. Got up to the camp about 12.45, when Wild came out
to meet us. We gave him a cheer, as we fully expected to find all down.
He said he had taken a little exercise every day; they had not any food
left. The Skipper then came out of the tent, very weak and as much as
he could do to walk. He said, ‘I want to thank you for saving our
lives.’ I told Wild to go and give them a feed and not to eat too much
at first in case of reaction, as I am going to get under way as soon as
they have had a feed. So we had lunch, and the Skipper went ahead to
get some exercise, and after an hour’s digging out got everything ready
for leaving. When we lifted Smith we found he was in a great hole which
he had melted through. This party had been in one camp for twelve days.
We got under way and picked the Skipper up; he had fallen down, too
weak to walk. We put him on the sledge we had brought out, and we
camped about 8 o’clock. I think we did about three miles, rather good
with two men on the sledges and Hayward in a very bad way. I don’t
think there has been a party, either north or south, in such straits,
three men down and three of us very weak; but the dogs seem to have new
life since we turned north. I think they realize they are homeward
bound. I am glad we kept them, even when we were starving. I knew they
would have to come in at the finish. We have now to look forward to
southerly winds for help, which I think we shall get at this time of
year. Let us hope the temperature will keep up, as our sleeping-bags
are wet through and worn out, and all our clothes full of holes, and
finneskoe in a dilapidated condition; in fact, one would not be out on
a cold day in civilization with the rotten clothes we have on. Turned
in 11 o’clock, wet through, but in a better frame of mind. Hope to try
and reach the depot to-morrow, even if we have to march overtime.
[Illustration: Mackintosh and Spencer-Smith being dragged on the
sledge]
[Illustration: “The Rudder was bent over to Starboard and Smashed”]
“_March_ 1, _Wednesday_.—Turned out usual time; a good south wind, but,
worse luck, heavy drift. Set sail; put the Skipper on rear sledge. The
temperature has gone down and it is very cold. Bluff in sight. We are
making good progress, doing a good mileage before lunch. After lunch a
little stronger wind. Hayward still hanging on to sledge; Skipper fell
off twice. Reached depot 5.45. When camping found we had dropped our
tent-poles, so Richards went back a little way and spotted them through
the binoculars about half a mile off, and brought them back. Hayward
and I were very cold by that time, the drift very bad. Moral: See
everything properly secured. We soon had our tent up, cooked our dinner
in the dark, and turned in about 10 o’clock.
“_March_ 2, _Thursday_.—Up as usual. Strong south-west wind with heavy
drift. Took two weeks’ provisions from the depot. I think that will
last us through, as there is another depot about fifty miles north from
here; I am taking the outside course on account of the crevasses, and
one cannot take too many chances with two men on sledges and one
crippled. Under way about 10 o’clock; lunched noon in a heavy drift;
took an hour to get the tents up, etc., the wind being so heavy. Found
sledges buried under snow after lunch, took some time to get under way.
Wind and drift very heavy; set half-sail on the first sledge and under
way about 3.30. The going is perfect; sometimes sledges overtaking us.
Carried on until 8 o’clock, doing an excellent journey for the day;
distance about eleven or twelve miles. Gives one a bit of heart to
carry on like this; only hope we can do this all the way. Had to cook
our meals in the dark, but still we did not mind. Turned in about 11
o’clock, pleased with ourselves, although we were wet through with
snow, as it got through all the holes in our clothes, and the
sleeping-bags are worse than awful.
“_March_ 3, _Friday_.—Up the usual time. It has been blowing a raging
blizzard all night. Found to our disgust utterly impossible to carry
on. Another few hours of agony in these rotten bags. _Later_.—Blizzard
much heavier. Amused myself mending finneskoe and Burberrys, mitts and
socks. Had the Primus while this operation was in force. Hoping for a
fine day to-morrow.
“_March_ 4, _Saturday_.—Up 5.20. Still blizzarding, but have decided to
get under way as we will have to try and travel through everything, as
Hayward is getting worse, and one doesn’t know who is the next. No
mistake it is scurvy, and the only possible cure is fresh food. I
sincerely hope the ship is in; if not we shall get over the hills by
Castle Rock, which is rather difficult and will delay another couple of
days. Smith is still cheerful; he has hardly moved for weeks and he has
to have everything done for him. Got under way 9.35. It took some two
hours to dig out dogs and sledges, as they were completely buried. It
is the same every morning now. Set sail, going along pretty fair.
Hayward gets on sledge now and again. Lunched as usual; sledges got
buried again at lunch-time. It takes some time to camp now, and in this
drift it is awful. In the afternoon wind eased a bit and drift went
down. Found it very hard pulling with the third man on sledge, as
Hayward has been on all the afternoon. Wind veered two points to south,
so we had a fair wind. An hour before we camped Erebus and Terror
showing up, a welcome sight. Only hope wind will continue. Drift is
worst thing to contend with as it gets into our clothes, which are wet
through now. Camped 8 o’clock. Cooked in the dark, and turned in in our
wet sleeping-bags about 10 o’clock. Distance about eight or nine miles.
“_March_ 5, _Sunday_.—Turned out 6.15. Overslept a little; very tired
after yesterday. Sun shining brightly and no wind. It seemed strange
last night, no flapping of tent in one’s ears. About 8.30 came on to
drift again. Under way 9.20, both sails set. Sledge going hard,
especially in soft places. If Hayward had not broken down we should not
feel the weight so much. Lunch 12.45. Under way at 3. Wind and drift
very heavy. A good job it is blowing some, or else we should have to
relay. All land obscured. Distance about ten or eleven miles, a very
good performance. Camped 7.10 in the dark. Patients not in the best of
trim. I hope to get in, bar accidents, in four days.
“_March_ 6, _Monday_.—Under way 9.20. Picked up thirty-two mile depot
11 o’clock. Going with a fair wind in the forenoon, which eased
somewhat after lunch and so caused very heavy work in pulling. It seems
to me we shall have to depot someone if the wind eases at all. Distance
during day about eight miles.
“_March_ 7, _Tuesday_.—Under way 9 o’clock. Although we turn out at 5
it seems a long time to get under way. There is double as much work to
do now with our invalids. This is the calmest day we have had for
weeks. The sun is shining and all land in sight. It is very hard going.
Had a little breeze about 11 o’clock, set sail, but work still very,
very heavy. Hayward and Skipper going on ahead with sticks, very slow
pace, but it will buck them up and do them good. If one could only get
some fresh food! About 11 o’clock decided to camp and overhaul sledges
and depot all gear except what is actually required. Under way again at
2, but surface being so sticky did not make any difference. After a
consultation the Skipper decided to stay behind in a tent with three
weeks’ provisions whilst we pushed on with Smith and Hayward. It seems
hard, only about thirty miles away, and yet cannot get any assistance.
Our gear is absolutely rotten, no sleep last night, shivering all night
in wet bags. I wonder what will be the outcome of it all after our
struggle. Trust in Providence. Distance about three and a half miles.
“_March_ 8, _Wednesday_.—Under way 9.20. Wished the Skipper good-bye;
took Smith and Hayward on. Had a fair wind, going pretty good. Hope to
arrive in Hut Point in four days. Lunched at No. 2 depot. Distance
about four and a half miles. Under way as usual after lunch; head wind,
going very heavy. Carried on until 6.30. Distance about eight or nine
miles.
“_March_ 9, _Thursday_.—Had a very bad night, cold intense. Temperature
down to —29° all night. At 4 a.m. Spencer-Smith called out that he was
feeling queer. Wild spoke to him. Then at 5.45 Richards suddenly said,
‘I think he has gone.’ Poor Smith, for forty days in pain he had been
dragged on the sledge, but never grumbled or complained. He had a
strenuous time in his wet bag, and the jolting of the sledge on a very
weak heart was not too good for him. Sometimes when we lifted him on
the sledge he would nearly faint, but during the whole time he never
complained. Wild looked after him from the start. We buried him in his
bag at 9 o’clock at the following position: Ereb. 184°—Obs. Hill 149°.
We made a cross of bamboos, and built a mound and cairn, with
particulars. After that got under way with Hayward on sledge. Found
going very hard, as we had a northerly wind in our faces, with a
temperature below 20°. What with frost-bites, etc., we are all
suffering. Even the dogs seem like giving in; they do not seem to take
any interest in their work. We have been out much too long, and nothing
ahead to cheer us up but a cold, cheerless hut. We did about two and a
half miles in the forenoon; Hayward toddling ahead every time we had a
spell. During lunch the wind veered to the south with drift, just right
to set sail. We carried on with Hayward on sledge and camped in the
dark about 8 o’clock. Turned in at 10, weary, worn, and sad. Hoping to
reach depot to-morrow.
“_March_ 10, _Friday_.—Turned out as usual. Beam wind, going pretty
fair, very cold. Came into very soft snow about 3; arrived at Safety
Camp 5 o’clock. Got to edge of Ice Barrier; found passage over in a bay
full of seals. Dogs got very excited; had a job to keep them away. By
the glass it looked clear right to Cape Armitage, which is four and a
half miles away. Arrived there 8 o’clock, very dark and bad light.
Found open water. Turned to climb slopes against a strong
north-easterly breeze with drift. Found a place about a mile away, but
we were so done up that it took until 11.30 to get gear up. This slope
was about 150 yds. up, and every three paces we had to stop and get
breath. Eventually camped and turned in about 2 o’clock. I think this
is the worst day I ever spent. What with the disappointment of not
getting round the Point, and the long day and the thought of getting
Hayward over the slopes, it is not very entertaining for sleep.
“_March_ 11, _Saturday_.—Up at 7 o’clock; took binoculars and went over
the slope to look around the Cape. To my surprise found the open water
and pack at the Cape only extended for about a mile. Came down and gave
the boys the good news. I think it would take another two hard days to
get over the hills, and we are too weak to do much of that, as I am
afraid of another collapsing. Richards and Wild climbed up to look at
the back of the bay and found the ice secure. Got under way 10.30, went
round the Cape and found ice; very slushy, but continued on. No turning
now; got into hard ice shortly after, eventually arriving at Hut Point
about 3 o’clock. It seems strange after our adventures to arrive back
at the old hut. This place has been standing since we built it in 1901,
and has been the starting-point of a few expeditions since. When we
were coming down the bay I could fancy the _Discovery_ there when Scott
arrived from his Farthest South in 1902, the ship decorated rainbow
fashion, and Lieutenant Armitage giving out the news that Captain Scott
had got to 82° 17´ S. We went wild that day. But now our homecoming is
quite different. Hut half-full of snow through a window being left open
and drift getting in; but we soon got it shipshape and Hayward in. I
had the fire going and plenty of vegetables on, as there was a fair
supply of dried vegetables. Then after we had had a feed, Richards and
Wild went down the bay and killed a couple of seals. I gave a good menu
of seal meat at night, and we turned in about 11 o’clock, full—too
full, in fact. As there is no news here of the ship, and we cannot see
her, we surmise she has gone down with all hands. I cannot see there is
any chance of her being afloat or she would be here. I don’t know how
the Skipper will take it.
“_March_ 12, _Sunday_.—Heard groans proceeding from the sleeping-bags
all night; all hands suffering from over-eating. Hayward not very well.
Turned out 8 o’clock. Good breakfast—porridge, seal, vegetables, and
coffee; more like a banquet to us. After breakfast Richards and Wild
killed a couple of seals whilst I made the hut a bit comfy. Hayward can
hardly move. All of us in a very bad state, but we must keep up
exercise. My ankles and knees badly swollen, gums prominent. Wild, very
black around joints, and gums very black. Richards about the best off.
After digging hut out I prepared food which I think will keep the
scurvy down. The dogs have lost their lassitude and are quite frisky,
except Oscar, who is suffering from over-feeding. After a strenuous
day’s work turned in 10 o’clock.
“_March_ 13, _Monday_.—Turned out 7 o’clock. Carried on much the same
as yesterday, bringing in seal blubber and meat. Preparing for
departure to-morrow; hope every one will be all right. Made new dog
harness and prepared sledges. In afternoon cooked sufficient seal meat
for our journey out and back, and same for dogs. Turned in 10 o’clock,
feeling much better.
“_March_ 14, _Tuesday_.—A beautiful day. Under way after lunch. One
would think, looking at our party, that we were the most ragged lot one
could meet in a day’s march; all our clothes past mending, our faces as
black as niggers’—a sort of crowd one would run away from. Going pretty
good. As soon as we rounded Cape Armitage a dead head wind with a
temperature of –18° Fahr., so we are not in for a pleasant time.
Arrived at Safety Camp 6 o’clock, turned in 8.30, after getting
everything ready.
“_March_ 15, _Wednesday_.—Under way as usual. Nice calm day. Had a very
cold night, temperature going down to –30° Fahr. Going along at a
rattling good rate; in spite of our swollen limbs we did about fifteen
miles. Very cold when we camped; temperature –20° Fahr. Turned in 9
o’clock.
“_March_ 16, _Thursday_.—Up before the sun, 4.45 a.m. Had a very cold
night, not much sleep. Under way early. Going good. Passed Smith’s
grave 10.45 a.m. and had lunch at depot. Saw Skipper’s camp just after,
and looking through glass found him outside tent, much to the joy of
all hands, as we expected him to be down. Picked him up 4.15 p.m. Broke
the news of Smith’s death and no ship. I gave him the date of the 17th
to look out for our returning, so he had a surprise. We struck his camp
and went north for about a mile and camped. We gave the Skipper a
banquet of seal, vegetables, and black currant jam, the feed of his
life. He seems in a bad way. I hope to get him in in three days, and I
think fresh food will improve him. We turned in 8 o’clock. Distance
done during day sixteen miles.
“_March_ 17, _Friday_.—Up at 5 o’clock. Under way 8 a.m. Skipper
feeling much better after feeding him up. Lunched a few yards past
Smith’s grave. Had a good afternoon, going fair. Distance about sixteen
miles. Very cold night, temperature –30° Fahr. What with wet bags and
clothes, rotten.
“_March_ 18, _Saturday_.—Turned out 5 o’clock. Had rather a cold night.
Temperature –29° Fahr. Surface very good. The Skipper walked for a
little way, which did him good. Lunched as usual. Pace good. After
lunch going good. Arrived at Safety Camp 4.10 p.m. To our delight found
the sea-ice in the same condition and arrived at Hut Point at 7
o’clock. Found Hayward still about same. Set to, made a good dinner,
and all hands seem in the best of spirits. Now we have arrived and got
the party in, it remains to themselves to get better. Plenty of
exercise and fresh food ought to do miracles. We have been out 160
days, and done a distance of 1561 miles, a good record. I think the
irony of fate was poor Smith going under a day before we got in. I
think we shall all soon be well. Turned in 10.30 p.m. Before turning in
Skipper shook us by the hand with great emotion, thanking us for saving
his life.”
Richards, summarizing the work of the parties, says that the journeys
made between September 1 and March 18, a period of 160 days, totalled
1561 miles. The main journey, from Hut Point to Mount Hope and return,
was 830 miles.
“The equipment,” he adds, “was old at the commencement of the season,
and this told severely at the later stages of the journey. Three Primus
lamps gave out on the journeys, and the old tent brought back by one of
the last parties showed rents several feet in length. This hampered the
travelling in the long blizzards. Finneskoe were also in pieces at the
end, and time had frequently to be lost through repairs to clothing
becoming imperative. This account would not be complete without some
mention of the unselfish service rendered by Wild to his two ill
tent-mates. From the time he remained behind at the long blizzard till
the death of Spencer-Smith he had two helpless men to attend to, and
despite his own condition he was ever ready, night or day, to minister
to their wants. This, in a temperature of –30° Fahr. at times, was no
light task.
“Without the aid of four faithful friends, Oscar, Con, Gunner, and
Towser, the party could never have arrived back. These dogs from
November 5 accompanied the sledging parties, and, although the pace was
often very slow, they adapted themselves well to it. Their endurance
was fine. For three whole days at one time they had not a scrap of
food, and this after a period on short rations. Though they were feeble
towards the end of the trip, their condition usually was good, and
those who returned with them will ever remember the remarkable service
they rendered.
“The first indication of anything wrong with the general health of the
party occurred at about lat. 82° 30´ S., when Spencer-Smith complained
of stiffness in the legs and discolouration. He attributed this to
holes in his windproof clothing. At lat. 83° S., when he gave way, it
was thought that the rest would do him good. About the end of January
Captain Mackintosh showed very serious signs of lameness. At this time
his party had been absent from Hut Point, and consequently from fresh
food, about three months.
“On the journey back Spencer-Smith gradually became weaker, and for
some time before the end was in a very weak condition indeed. Captain
Mackintosh, by great efforts, managed to keep his feet until the long
blizzard was encountered. Here it was that Hayward was first found to
be affected with the scurvy, his knees being stiff. In his case the
disease took him off his feet very suddenly, apparently causing the
muscles of his legs to contract till they could be straightened hardly
more than a right angle. He had slight touches in the joints of the
arms. In the cases of Joyce, Wild, and Richards, joints became stiff
and black in the rear, but general weakness was the worst symptom
experienced. Captain Mackintosh’s legs looked the worst in the party.”
The five men who were now at Hut Point found quickly that some of the
winter months must be spent there. They had no news of the ship, and
were justified in assuming that she had not returned to the Sound,
since if she had some message would have been awaiting them at Hut
Point, if not farther south. The sea-ice had broken and gone north
within a mile of the point, and the party must wait until the new ice
became firm as far as Cape Evans. Plenty of seal meat was available, as
well as dried vegetables, and the fresh food improved the condition of
the patients very rapidly. Richards massaged the swollen joints and
found that this treatment helped a good deal. Before the end of March
Mackintosh and Hayward, the worst sufferers, were able to take
exercise. By the second week of April Mackintosh was free of pain,
though the backs of his legs were still discoloured.
A tally of the stores at the hut showed that on a reasonable allowance
the supply would last till the middle of June. Richards and Wild killed
many seals, so that there was no scarcity of meat and blubber. A few
penguins were also secured. The sole means of cooking food and heating
the hut was an improvised stove of brick, covered with two sheets of
iron. This had been used by the former Expedition. The stove emitted
dense smoke and often made the hut very uncomfortable, while at the
same time it covered the men and all their gear with clinging and
penetrating soot. Cleanliness was out of the question, and this
increased the desire of the men to get across to Cape Evans. During
April the sea froze in calm weather, but winds took the ice out again.
On April 23 Joyce walked four miles to the north, partly on young ice
two inches thick, and he thought then that the party might be able to
reach Cape Evans within a few days. But a prolonged blizzard took the
ice out right up to the Point, so that the open water extended at the
end of April right up to the foot of Vinie’s Hill. Then came a spell of
calm weather, and during the first week of May the sea-ice formed
rapidly. The men made several short trips over it to the north. The sun
had disappeared below the horizon in the middle of April, and would not
appear again for over four months.
The disaster that followed is described by both Richards and Joyce.
“And now a most regrettable incident occurred,” wrote Richards. “On the
morning of May 8, before breakfast, Captain Mackintosh asked Joyce what
he thought of his going to Cape Evans with Hayward. Captain Mackintosh
considered the ice quite safe, and the fine morning no doubt tempted
him to exchange the quarters at the hut for the greater comfort and
better food at Cape Evans.” (Mackintosh naturally would be anxious to
know if the men at Cape Evans were well and had any news of the ship.)
“He was strongly urged at the time not to take the risk, as it was
pointed out that the ice, although firm, was very young, and that a
blizzard was almost sure to take part of it out to sea.”
However, at about 1 p.m., with the weather apparently changing for the
worse, Mackintosh and Hayward left, after promising to turn back if the
weather grew worse. The last sight the watching party on the hill
gained of them was when they were about a mile away, close to the
shore, but apparently making straight for Cape Evans. At 3 p.m. a
moderate blizzard was raging, which later increased in fury, and the
party in the hut had many misgivings for the safety of the absent men.
On May 10, the first day possible, the three men left behind walked
over new ice to the north to try and discover some trace as to the fate
of the others. The footmarks were seen clearly enough raised up on the
ice, and the track was followed for about two miles in a direction
leading to Cape Evans. Here they ended abruptly, and in the dim light a
wide stretch of water, very lightly covered with ice, was seen as far
as the eye could reach. It was at once evident that part of the ice
over which they had travelled had gone out to sea.
The whole party had intended, if the weather had held good, to have
attempted the passage across with the full moon about May 16. On the
date on which Mackintosh and Hayward left it was impossible that a
sledge should travel the distance over the sea-ice owing to the sticky
nature of the surface. Hence their decision to go alone and leave the
others to follow with the sledge and equipment when the surface should
improve. That they had actually been lost was learned only on July 15,
on which date the party from Hut Point arrived at Cape Evans.
The entry in Joyce’s diary shows that he had very strong forebodings of
disaster when Mackintosh and Hayward left. He warned them not to go, as
the ice was still thin and the weather was uncertain. Mackintosh seems
to have believed that he and Hayward, travelling light, could get
across to Cape Evans quickly before the weather broke, and if the
blizzard had come two or three hours later they probably would have
been safe. The two men carried no sleeping-bags and only a small meal
of chocolate and seal meat.
The weather during June was persistently bad. No move had been possible
on May 16, the sea-ice being out, and Joyce decided to wait until the
next full moon. When this came the weather was boisterous, and so it
was not until the full moon of July that the journey to Cape Evans was
made. During June and July seals got very scarce, and the supply of
blubber ran short.
Meals consisted of little but seal meat and porridge. The small stock
of salt was exhausted, but the men procured two and a half pounds by
boiling down snow taken from the bottom layer next to the sea-ice. The
dogs recovered condition rapidly and did some hunting on their own
account among the seals.
The party started for Cape Evans on July 15. They had expected to take
advantage of the full moon, but by a strange chance they had chosen the
period of an eclipse, and the moon was shadowed most of the time they
were crossing the sea-ice. The ice was firm, and the three men reached
Cape Evans without difficulty. They found Stevens, Cope, Gaze, and Jack
at the Cape Evans Hut, and learned that nothing had been seen of
Captain Mackintosh and Hayward. The conclusion that these men had
perished was accepted reluctantly. The party at the base consisted now
of Stevens, Cope, Joyce, Richards, Gaze, Wild, and Jack.
The men settled down now to wait for relief. When opportunity offered
Joyce led search-parties to look for the bodies or any trace of the
missing men, and he subsequently handed me the following report:
“I beg to report that the following steps were taken to try and
discover the bodies of Captain Mackintosh and Mr. Hayward. After our
party’s return to the hut at Cape Evans, July 15, 1916, it was learned
that Captain Mackintosh and Mr. Hayward had not arrived; and, being
aware of the conditions under which they were last seen, all the
members of the wintering party were absolutely convinced that these two
men were totally lost and dead—that they could not have lived for more
than a few hours at the outside in the blizzard that they had
encountered, they being entirely unprovided with equipment of any sort.
“There was the barest chance that after the return of the sun some
trace of their bodies might be found, so during the spring—that is,
August and September 1916—and in the summer—December and January
1916–17—the following searches were carried out:
“(1) Wild and I thoroughly searched Inaccessible Island at the end of
August 1916.
“(2) Various parties in September searched along the shore to the
vicinity of Turk’s Head.
“(3) In company with Messrs. Wild and Gaze I started from Hut Point,
December 31, 1916, at 8 a.m., and a course was steered inshore as close
as possible to the cliffs in order to search for any possible means of
ascent. At a distance of half a mile from Hut Point we passed a snow
slope which I had already ascended in June 1916; three and a half miles
farther on was another snow slope, which ended in Blue Ice Glacier
slope, which we found impossible to climb, snow slope being formed by
heavy winter snowfall. These were the only two places accessible.
Distance on this day, 10 miles 1710 yds covered. On January 1 search
was continued round the south side of Glacier Tongue from the base
towards the seaward end. There was much heavy pressure; it was
impossible to reach the summit owing to the wide crack. Distance
covered 4 miles 100 yds. On January 2 thick weather caused party to lay
up. On 3rd, glacier was further examined, and several slopes formed by
snow led to top of glacier, but crevasses between slope and the tongue
prevented crossing. The party then proceeded round the Tongue to Tent
Island, which was also searched, a complete tour of the island being
made. It was decided to make for Cape Evans, as thick weather was
approaching. We arrived at 8 p.m. Distance 8 miles 490 yds.
“I remain, etc.,
“ERNEST E. JOYCE.
“_To_ Sir ERNEST SHACKLETON, C.V.O.,
“_Commander_, I.T.A.E.”
In September Richards was forced to lay up at the hut owing to a
strained heart, due presumably to stress of work on the sledging
journeys. Early in October a party consisting of Joyce, Gaze, and Wild
spent several days at Cape Royds, where they skinned specimens. They
sledged stores back to Cape Evans in case it should be found necessary
to remain there over another winter. In September, Joyce, Gaze, and
Wild went out to Spencer-Smith’s grave with a wooden cross, which they
erected firmly. Relief arrived on January 10, 1917, but it is necessary
now to turn back to the events of May 1915, when the _Aurora_ was
driven from her moorings off Cape Evans.