In a flash I called to mind the view of the Ice Fall from the glacier on our outward journey with Captain Scott, I remembered the huge frozen waves, and hoped with all my optimistic nature that this might be the end of the great disturbance. I stood still and surveyed the wonderful valley of ice, and then fell on my knees and prayed to God that a way out would be shown me.

Then I sprang to my feet, and hurried on boldly. Clambering up the opposite slope of ice, I found a smooth, round crest over which I ran into a similar valley beyond. Frozen waves here followed in succession, and hollow followed hollow, each less in magnitude than its forerunner.

Suddenly I saw before me the smooth, shining bed of the glacier itself, and away to the north-west was the curious reddish rock under which the Mid Glacier Depot had been placed. My feelings hardly bear setting down. I was overcome with emotion, but my prayer was answered and we were saved.

I had considerable difficulty in working back to the party amongst the labyrinth of ice bridges, but I fortunately found a patch of hard snow whereon my crampons had made their mark. From here I easily traced my footmarks back, and was soon in company with my friends. They were truly relieved at my news. On consulting my watch I found that I had been away one hour. It took us actually three times as long to work our sledge out into the smooth ice of the glacier, but this reached, we camped and made some tea before marching on to the depot, which lay but a few miles from us.

We ate the last of our biscuits at this camp and finished everything but tea and sugar, then, new men, we struck our little camp, harnessed up and swept down over the smooth ice with scarcely an effort needed to move the sledge along. When we reached the depot we had another meal and slept through the night and well on into the next day.

Consulting my old Antarctic diary I see that the last sentence written on the 17th January says, "I had to keep my goggles off all day as it was a matter of life or death with us, and snow blindness must be risked after ..." (a gap follows here until 29th January). The next day I had an awful attack of snow blindness, but the way down the glacier was so easy that it did not matter. I forgot whether Lashly or Crean led then, but I marched alongside, keeping in touch with the trace by hitching the lanyard of my sundial on to it and holding this in my hand. I usually carried the sundial slung round my neck, so that it was easy to pick it up and consult it. That day I was in awful pain, and although we had some dope for putting on our eyes when so smitten, I found that the greatest relief of all was obtained by bandaging my eyes with a poultice made of tea leaves after use—quaint places, quaint practices but the tip is worth considering for future generations of explorers and alpine climbers.

Our homeward march continued for day after day with no very exciting incidents. We met no more crevasses that were more than a foot or so wide, and we worked our way down on to the Great Ice Barrier with comparatively easy marches, although the distances we covered were surprising to us all—seventeen miles a day we averaged.

On the 30th January Lashly and I had been fourteen weeks out, and we had exhausted practically every topic of conversation beyond food, distances made good, temperatures, and the weather. Crean, as already set down, had started with the Main Southern Party a week after Lashly and I had first set out as the pioneers with those wretched failures, the motor sledges. By this time I had made the unpleasant discovery that I was suffering from scurvy. It came on with a stiffening of the knee joints, then I could not straighten my legs, and finally they were horrible to behold, swollen, bruised, and green. As day followed day my condition became worse: my gums were ulcerated and my teeth loose. Then finally I got haemorrhage. Crean and Lashly were dreadfully concerned on my behalf, and how they nursed me and helped me along no words of mine can properly describe. What men they were. Those awful days—I trudged on with them for hundreds of miles, and each step hurt me more. I had done too much on the outward journey, for what with building all the depot cairns ahead of the pony party, and what with the effects of the spring sledge journey, too much had been asked of me. I had never been out of harness from the day I left Hut Point, for even with the motor sledges we practically pulled them along. Crean had had an easier time, for he had led a pony up to the foot of the Beardmore Glacier, and Lashly had not done the spring sledging journey, which took a certain amount out of me with its temperatures falling to 73 degrees below zero. The disappointment of not being included in the Polar Party had not helped me much, and I must admit that my prospects of winning through became duller day by day. I suffered absolute agonies in forcing my way along, and eventually I could only push myself by means of a ski-stick, for I could not step out properly. I somehow waddled on ski until one day I fainted when striving to start a march. Crean and Lashly picked me up, and Crean thought I was dead. His hot tears fell on my face, and as I came to I gave a weak kind of laugh.

They rigged the camp up once more and put me in my bag, and then those two gallant fellows held a short council of war. I endeavoured to get them to leave me when they came in with their suggestions, but it was useless to argue with them, and I now felt that I had shot my bolt. I vainly tried to persuade them to leave me in my sleeping-bag with what food they could spare, but they put me on the sledge, bag and all, and strapped me as comfortably as they could with their own sleeping-bags spread under me to make for greater ease.

How weary their marches must have been—ten miles of foot slogging each day. I could see them from the sledge by raising my head—how slowly their legs seemed to move—wearily but nobly they fought on until one day a blizzard came and completely spoilt the surface. The two men had been marching nearly 1500 miles, their strength was spent, and great though their hearts were, they had now to give up. In vain they tried to move the sledge with my wasted weight upon it—it was hopeless.

Very seriously and sadly they re-erected our tent and put me once again inside. I thought I was being put into my grave. Outside I heard them talking, low notes of sadness, but with a certain thread of determination running through what they said. They were discussing which should go and which should stay. Crean had done, if anything, the lighter share of the work, as already explained, and he therefore set out to march thirty-five miles with no food but a few biscuits and a little stick of chocolate.

He hoped to find relief at Hut Point. Failing this, he would go on if possible to Cape Evans.

Crean came in to say good-bye to me. I thanked him for what he was doing in a weak, broken sort of way, and Lashly held open the little round tent door to let me see the last of him. He strode out nobly and finely—I wondered if I should ever see him, again. Then Lashly came in to me, shut the tent door, and made me a little porridge out of some oatmeal we got from the last depot we had passed.

After I had eaten it he made me comfortable by laying me on Crean's sleeping-bag, which made my own seem softer, for I was very, very sore after being dragged a hundred miles on a jolting, jumping sledge. Then I slept and awoke to find Lashly's kind face looking down at me. There were very few wounded men in the Great War nursed as I was by him.

A couple of days passed, and every now and then Lashly would open up the tent door, go out and search the horizon for some possible sign of relief. The end had nearly come, and I was past caring; we had no food, except a few paraffin saturated biscuits, and Lashly in his weakened state without food could never have marched in. He took it all very quietly—a noble, steel true man—but relief did come at the end of that day when everything looked its blackest.

We heard the baying of the dogs, first once, then again. Lashly, who was lying down by my side quietly talking, sprang to his feet, looked out, and saw!

They galloped right up to the tent door, and the leader, a beautiful gray dog named Krisravitsa, seemed to understand the situation, for he came right into the tent and licked my hands and face. I put my poor weak hands up and gripped his furry ears. Perhaps to hide my feelings I kissed his old hairy, Siberian face with the kiss that was meant for Lashly. We were both dreadfully affected at our rescue.

Atkinson and the Russian dog-boy, Dimitri, had come out hot-foot to save us, and of all men in the Expedition none could have been better chosen than "Little Aitch," our clever naval doctor. After resting his dogs and feeding me with carefully prepared foodstuffs, he got me on one sledge and Lashly on the other, the dogs were given their head, and in little more than three hours we covered the thirty-five miles into Hut Point, where I was glad to see Crean's face once more and to hear first hand about his march. It had taken him eighteen hours' plodding through those awful snows from our camp to Hut Point, where fortunately he met Atkinson and Dimitri and told them of my condition.

After the Expedition was over the King gave Lashly and Crean the Albert Medal for their bravery in helping me win through.

It is little enough tribute that I have dedicated this book to these two gallant fellows.



CHAPTER XVI

THE POLE ATTAINED—SCOTT'S LAST MARCHES

The details of Scott's final march to the Pole, and the heartrending account of his homeward journey, of Evans's sad death, of Oates's noble sacrifice, and of the martyr like end of Wilson, Bowers, and Scott himself have been published throughout the length and breadth of the civilised world. In "Scott's Last Expedition"—Vol. I. the great explorer's journals are practically reproduced in their entirety. Mr. Leonard Huxley, who arranged them in 1913, had had to do with Scott's first work, "The Voyage of the 'Discovery'," and, as Mr. Huxley has said, these two works needed but little editing. Scott's last fine book was written as he went along, and those of us who have survived the Expedition and the Great War, and we are few, are more than proud to count ourselves among the company he chose.

A synopsis of his march from 87 degrees 35 minutes to the South Pole, and a recapitulation of the events which marked the homeward march must certainly find their way into this book, which is after all only the husk of the real story.

However much the story is retold—and it has been retold by members of the Expedition as well as by others—the re-telling will never approach the story as told by Scott himself: for the kernel one must turn to Volume I, of "Scott's Last Expedition": However, perhaps I can give something of interest; here is what little Bowers says in extracts from his diary, given me by his mother:

"January 4.—Packed up sledge with four weeks and three days' food for five men, five sleeping-bags, etc. I had my farewell breakfast with Teddy Evans, Crean and Lashly. Teddy was frightfully cut up at not going to the Pole, he had set his heart on it so.

"I am afraid it was a very great disappointment to him, and I felt very sorry about it. Poor Teddy, I am sure it was for his wife's sake he wanted to go. He gave me a little silk flag she had given him to fly on the Pole. After so little sleep the previous night I rather dreaded the march.

"We gave our various notes, messages, and letters to the returning party and started off. They accompanied us for about a mile before turning, to see that all was going on well.

"Our party was on ski with the exception of myself. I first made fast to the central span, but afterwards connected up to the bow of the sledge, pulling in the centre between the inner ends of Captain Scott's and Dr. Wilson's traces.

"This was found to be the best place, as I had to go my own step. Teddy and party gave us three cheers and Crean was half in tears. They had a featherweight sledge to go back with, of course, and ought to run down their distance easily.

"We found we could manage our load easily, and did 6.3 miles before lunch, completing 12.5 by 7.15 p.m. Our marching hours are nine per day. It is a long slog with a well-loaded sledge, and more tiring for me than the others as I have no ski. However, as long as I can do my share all day and keep fit, it does not matter much one way or the other.

"We had our first north wind on the Plateau to-day, and a deposit of snow crystals made the surface like sand latterly on the march. The sledge dragged like lead. In the evening it fell calm, and although the temperature was 16 degrees it was positively pleasant to stand about outside the tent and bask in the sun's rays. It was our first calm since we reached the summit too. Our socks and other damp articles which we hang out to dry at night became immediately covered with long feathery crystals exactly like plumes.

"Socks, mitts, and finneskoe dry splendidly up here during the night. We have little trouble with them compared with spring and winter journeys. I generally spread my bag out in the sun during the 1 1/2 hours of lunch time, which gives the reindeer hair a chance to get rid of the damage done by the deposit of breath and any perspiration during the night...."

He seemed to have made no entry for some days after this, but he is interesting to quote later.

The Polar Party covered the 145 geographical miles that remained in a fortnight; on the 7th January they reached apparently the summit of the Plateau, 10,570 ft. in Latitude 88 degrees 18 minutes 70 seconds S. Longitude 157 degrees 21 minutes E., but their marches fell short of expectations due to the bad surfaces met with.

Scott kept copious notes in his diary of everything that mattered. He was delighted with his final selection, and as usual pithy and to the point when describing. Here, for example, is something of what he wrote of his companions:

(From Scott's Last Expedition, Vol. 1)

"WILSON.—Quick, careful and dexterous, ever thinking of some fresh expedient to help the camp life; tough as steel on the traces, never wavering from start to finish.

"PETTY OFFICER EVANS.—A giant worker, with a really remarkable headpiece—he is responsible for every sledge, every sledge-fitting, tents, sleeping-bags, harness, and when one cannot recall a single expression of dissatisfaction with any one of these items, it shows what an invaluable assistant he has been....

"BOWERS.—Little Bowers remains a marvel—he is thoroughly enjoying himself. I leave all the provision arrangements in his hands, and at all times he knows exactly how we stand ... Nothing comes amiss to him, and no work is too hard....

"OATES.—Each is invaluable. Oates had his invaluable period with the ponies: now he is a foot slogger and goes hard the whole time, does his share of camp work and stands the hardships as well as any of us. I would not like to be without him either. So our five people are perhaps as happily selected as it is possible to imagine."

Certainly no living man could have taken Scott's place effectively as leader of our Expedition—there was none other like him. He was the Heart, Brain, and Master.

On January 11 just the slightest descent had been made, the height up being now 10,540 ft., but it will be noticed that they were then getting temperatures as low as 26 degrees below zero: my party on that date got 10 degrees higher thermometer readings. Surface troubles continued to waylay them, and their distances, even with five men, were disappointing, due undoubtedly to this.

On 13th both Bowers and Scott write of a surface like sand, and of tugging and straining when they ought to be moving easily. On 14th some members began to feel the cold unmistakably, and on the following day the whole party were quite done on camping.

The saddest note on the outward march is struck on January 16 when Bowers sighted a cairn of snow and a black speck, which turned out to be a black flag tied to a sledge runner, near the remains of a camp—this after such a hopeful day on the 15th, when a depot of nine days food was made only 27 miles from the Pole—and Scott wrote in his diary:

"... It ought to be a certain thing now, and the only appalling possibility the sight of the Norwegian Flag forestalling ours...."

Still, there it was, dog tracks, many of them, were picked up and followed to the Polar Area. Scott, Wilson, Oates, Bowers, and Seaman Evans reached the South Pole on 17th January, 1912, a horrible day, temperature 22 degrees below zero. The party fixed the exact spot by means of one of our little four-inch theodolites, and the result of their careful observations located the Pole at a point which only differed from Amundsen's "fix" by half a mile, as shown by his flag.

This difference actually meant that the British and Norwegian observers differed by one scale division on the theodolite, which was graduated to half a minute of arc.

Experts in navigation and surveying will always look on this splendidly accurate determination as a fine piece of work by our own people as well as by the Norwegian Expedition.

Lady Scott has remarked on the magnificent spirit shown by her husband and his four specially-selected tent-mates when they knew that Queen Alexandra's little silk Union Jack had been anticipated by the flag of another nation. Scott and his companions had done their best, and never from one of them came an uncharitable remark.

In our Expedition Committee Minute Book it is recorded that the following were found at the Pole:

A letter from Captain Amundsen to Captain Scott:

"Poleheim, 15th December, 1911.

"DEAR CAPTAIN SCOTT,—As you probably are the first to reach this area after us, I will ask you kindly to forward this letter to King Haakon VII. If you can use any of the articles left in the tent please do not hesitate to do so. The sledge left outside may be of use to you. With kind regards I wish you a safe return.

"Yours truly, ROALD AMUNDSEN."

Also another note:

"The Norwegian Home, Poleheim, is situated in 89 degrees 58 minutes S. Lat. S.E. by E. compass 8 miles.

(Signed) ROALD AMUNDSEN. "15th December, 1911."

The Norwegian Explorers' names recorded at Poleheim were: Roald Amundsen, Olaf Bjaaland, Helmer Hanssen, Oskar Wisting, Sverre Hassel.

Scott left a note in the Norwegian tent with the names of himself and his companions, and in his diary he agreed that the Norwegian explorers had made thoroughly sure of their work and fully carried out their programme.

Scott considered the Pole to be 9500 feet above the Barrier—1000 feet lower than the Plateau altitude in 88 degrees.

Bowers took the sights to fix the South Pole.

On the 19th January the northward march was commenced: the party had before them then a distance of over 900 miles (statute). Bowers writes on this date quite nonchalantly:

" ... A splendid clear morning, with fine S.W'ly wind blowing—during breakfast time I sewed a flap attachment on to my green hat so as to prevent the wind from blowing down my neck on the march. We got up the mast and sail on the sledge and headed North, picking up Amundsen's cairn and our outgoing tracks shortly afterwards. Along this we travelled until we struck the other cairn and finally the Black Flag where we had made our sixth (?) outward camp. We then with much relief left all traces of the Norwegian behind, and I headed on my own track till lunch camp, when we had come 8.1 miles. In the afternoon we passed No. 2 Cairn of the British route, and fairly slithered along with a fresh breeze. It was heavy travelling for me, not being on ski, but one does not mind being tired if a good march is made. We did 16 altogether for the day, and so should pick up our last depot to-morrow afternoon. The weather became fairly thick soon after noon, and at the end of the afternoon there was considerable drift with a mist caused by ice crystals and parhelion.

"January 20.—Good sailing breeze again this morning; it is a great pleasure to have one's back to the wind instead of having to face it. It came on thicker later, but we sighted the last depot soon after 1 p.m. and reached it at 1-15 p.m. The red flag on the bamboo pole was blowing out merrily to welcome us back from the Pole, with its supply of the necessaries of life below. We are absolutely dependent on our depots to get off the Plateau alive, and so welcome the lovely little cairns gladly. At this one, called the 'Last Depot,' we picked up four days' food, a can of oil, some methylated spirit (for lighting purposes), and some personal gear we had left there. The bamboo was bent on to the floor-cloth as a yard for our sail instead of a broken sledge runner of Amundsen's, which we had found at the Pole and made a temporary yard of. As we had marched extra long in the forenoon in order to reach the depot, our afternoon march was shorter than usual. The wind increased to a moderate gale, with heavy gusts and considerable drift. We would have had a bad time had we been facing it. After an hour I had to shift my harness aft so as to control the motions of the sledge.

"Unfortunately the surface got very sandy latterly, but we finished up with 16.1 miles to our credit and camped in a stiff breeze, which rendered itself into a blizzard a few hours later. I was glad we had our depot safe.

"January 21.-Wind increased to force 8 during night, with heavy drift; in the morning it was blizzing like blazes, and marching was out of the question. The wind would have been of great assistance to us, but the drift was so thick that steering a course would have been next to impossible, so we decided to await developments and get under way as soon as it showed any signs of clearing. Fortunately it was short lived, and instead of lasting the regulation two days it went off in the afternoon, and 2.45 found us off with our sail full. It was good running on ski, but soft plodding for me on foot. I shall be jolly glad to pick up my dear old ski. They are nearly 200 miles away yet, however. The breeze fell altogether latterly, and I shifted up into my old place, a middle number of the five. Our distance completed was 5.52 miles when camp was made again. Our old cairns are of great assistance, also the tracks, which are obliterated in places by heavy drift and hard sastrugi, but can be followed easily.

"January 22.—We came across Evans's sheep-skin boots this evening. They were almost covered after their long spell since they fell off the sledge. The breeze was in from the S.S.W., but got bright and light. At lunch camp we had completed 8.2 miles. In the afternoon the breeze fell altogether and the surface acted on by the sun became perfect sand-dust. The light sledge pulled by five men came along like a drag without a particle of slide or go in it. We were all glad to camp soon after 7 p.m. I think we were all pretty tired out. We did altogether 19.5 miles for the day. We are now only 30 miles from the 1 1/2 degree depot and should reach it in two marches with any luck.

"January 23.—Started off with a bit of a breeze which helped us a little. After the first two hours it increased to force 4 S.S.W., and filling the sail we sped along merrily, doing 8 3/4 miles before lunch. In the afternoon it was even stronger. I had to go back in the sledge and act as guide and brakesman. We had to lower the sail a bit, but even then she ran like a bird. We are picking up our old cairns famously. Evans got his nose frost-bitten, not an unusual thing with him, and as we were all getting pretty cold latterly, we stopped at a quarter to seven, having done 15 1/2 miles. We camped with considerable difficulty owing to the force of the wind.

"January 24.—Evans got his fingers all blistered with frostbites, otherwise we are all well, but thinning, and in spite of our good rations getting hungrier daily.

"I sometimes spend much thought on the march with plans for making a pig of myself on the first opportunity. As this will be after a farther walk of 700 miles they will be a bit premature. It was blowing a gale when we started, and it increased in force. Finally, with the sail half down, one man detached tracking ahead, and Titus and I breaking back, we could not always keep the sledge from over-running. The blizzard got worse and worse, till having done only 7 miles we had to camp soon after 12 o'clock. We had a most difficult job camping, and it has been blowing like blazes all the afternoon. I think it is moderating now—9 p.m.

"We are only 7 miles from our depot and the delay is exasperating.

"January 25.—It was no use turning out at our usual time (5.45 a.m.) as the blizzard was as furious as ever.

"We therefore decided on a late breakfast and no lunch unless able to march. We have only three days' food with us and shall be in Queer Street if we miss the depot.

"Our bags are getting steadily wetter, so are our clothes.

"It shows a tendency to clear off now (breakfast time), so, D.V., we may march after all. I am in tribulation as regards meals now, as we have run out of salt, one of my favourite commodities. It was owing to Atkinson's party taking back an extra tin by mistake from the Upper Glacier Depot.

"Fortunately we have some depoted there, so I will only have to endure another two weeks without it.

"10 p.m.—We have got in a march after all, thank the Lord.

"Assisted by the wind we made an excellent run down to our 1 1/2 Depot, where the big red flag was blowing out of driving drift. Here we picked up 14 cans of oil, and one week's food for five men, together with some personal gear depoted.

"We left the bamboo and the flag on the cairn. I was much relieved to pick up this depot; now we have only one other source of anxiety in the endless snow summit, viz., the third depot in Latitude 86 degrees 56 minutes S. In the afternoon we did 5.2 miles. It was a miserable march, blizzard all the time and our sledge either sticking on sastrugi or overrunning the traces. We had to lower the sail half down, and Titus and I hung on to her—it was most strenuous work as well as much colder than pulling ahead. Most of the time we had to brake back with all our strength to keep the sledge from overrunning. Bill got a bad go of sun-glare from following the track without goggles on.

"January 26.—This day last year we started the depot journey. I did not think so short a time would turn me into an old hand at Polar travelling, neither did I imagine all the time that I would be returning from the Pole.

"January 29.—Our record march to-day. With a good breeze and improving surface we were soon in amongst the double tracks where the supporting party left us. Then we picked up the memorable camp where I transferred to the advance party. How glad I was to change over. The camp was much drifted up, and immense sastrugi . . . etc."

Day's marches, temperatures, and so on, then his diary commences missing days out and only contains two line entries in short, sharp notes such as:

"January 31.—Picked up depot 11.20 a.m. Picked up my ski 6.15 p.m. No wind latterly—heavy surface. 13 1/2—Bill's leg—Evans's fingers—extra biscuits, etc."; and

"February 11.—Very heavy surface—ice crystals—movement of upper currents—Evans cook—finer weather—lower temperature—sastrugi. Run 11.1."

It was probably the beginning of the end.

February brought little to the party but bad luck and reverses. Wilson had strained a tendon in his leg. Evans's fingers were in a bad state through frostbite, and on the first of the month Scott himself had fallen and shaken himself badly. Temperatures low, too low for any good surface. February 4 found the party amongst crevasses, both Scott and Evans falling into them. Notwithstanding all their troubles they made a fine pace over the ice-capped plateau and down the Beardmore. Evans's fall on February 4 crocked him up a good deal, and he suffered from facial frostbites. His condition all the time now was causing the gravest anxiety. The summit journey ended on February 7. On the 8th valuable geological specimens were collected and brought along, and then the descent of the Great Glacier commenced. The Beardmore temperatures to begin with were rather high, and Scott seems to have considered this a disadvantage, for he says it made the party feel slack. Evans was rested half-way down the Beardmore, Oates looking after him, while the other made a halt for geological investigation by the Cloudmaker depot.

But poor Evans had sustained a severe concussion through falling and hitting his head on the 4th, and the party on his account was so delayed that the surplus foodstuffs rapidly diminished, and the outlook became serious. Bad weather was again encountered, and on February 17, near the foot of the Glacier, Seaman Evans died. Wilson expressed the opinion that Evans must have injured his brain by the fall. It was a great surprise to all of us to hear of Evans failing so early, as he was known to be a man of enormous strength, and a tried sledger. He was also a veteran in Antarctic experience, having made some wonderful journeys under Scott in the "Discovery" days.

After reaching the Lower Glacier Depot on the 17th the bereaved little band pushed Northward with fine perseverance, although they must have known by their gradually shortening marches that little hope of reaching their winter quarters remained. Their best march on the Barrier was only 12 miles, and in the later stages their marches dropped to 4. The depots were, as stated, some 65 miles apart, but the temperatures fell as they advanced, instead of rising, as expected, and we find them recording -46.2 degrees one night. Surfaces were terrible—"like pulling over desert sand, not the least glide in the world."

Poor Oates's feet and hands were badly frostbitten—he constantly appealed to Wilson for advice. What should he do, what could he do? Poor, gallant soldier, we thought such worlds of him. Wilson could only answer "slog on, just slog on." On March 17, which was Oates's birthday, he walked out to his death in a noble endeavour to save his three companions beset with hardships, and as Captain Scott himself wrote, "It was the act of a brave man and an English gentleman—we all hope to meet the end with a similar spirit, and assuredly the end is not far."

Scott, Wilson, and Bowers fought on until March 21, only doing about 20 miles in the four days, and then they were forced to camp 11 miles south of One Ton Depot. They were kept in camp by a blizzard which was too violent to permit them to move, and on March 25 Captain Scott wrote his great message to the public:

MESSAGE TO THE PUBLIC

The causes of the disaster are not due to faulty organisation, but to misfortune in all risks which had to be undertaken.

1.—The loss of pony transport in March, 1911, obliged me to start later than I had intended, and obliged the limits of stuff transported to be narrowed.

2. The weather throughout the outward journey, and especially the long gale in 83 degrees S., stopped us.

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

We fought these untoward events with a will and conquered, but it cut into our provision reserve.

Every detail of our food supplies, clothing, and depots made on the interior ice sheet and over that long stretch of 700 miles to the Pole and back worked out to perfection. The advance party would have returned to the glacier in fine form and with surplus of food, but for the astonishing failure of the man whom we had least expected to fail. Edgar Evans was thought the strongest man of the party.

The Beardmore Glacier is not difficult in fine weather, but on our return we did not get a single completely fine day; this with a sick companion enormously increased our anxieties.

As I have said elsewhere we got into frightfully rough ice, and Edgar Evans received a concussion of the brain—he died a natural death, but left us a shaken party, with the season unduly advanced.

But all the facts above enumerated were as nothing to the surprise which awaited us on the Barrier. I maintain that our arrangements for returning were quite adequate, and that no one in the world would have expected the temperatures and surfaces which we encountered at this time of the year. On the summit in Latitude 85 degrees 86 degrees we had -20 degrees -30 degrees. On the Barrier in Latitude 82 degrees, 10,000 feet lower, we had -30 degrees in the day, -47 degrees at night pretty regularly, with continuous head wind during our day marches. It is clear that these circumstances come on very suddenly, and our wreck is certainly due to this sudden advent of severe weather, which does not seem to have any satisfactory cause. I do not think human beings ever came through such a month as we have come through, and we should have got through in spite of the weather but for the sickening of a second companion, Captain Oates, and a shortage of fuel in our depots, for which I cannot account, and finally, but for the storm which has fallen on us within 11 miles of the depot at which we hoped to secure our final supplies. Surely misfortune could scarcely have exceeded this last blow. We arrived within 11 miles of our old One Ton Camp with fuel for one last meal and food for two days. For four days we have been unable to leave the tent—the gale howling about us. We are weak, writing is difficult, but for my own sake I do not regret this journey, which has shown that Englishmen can endure hardships, help one another, and meet death with as great a fortitude as ever in the past. We took risks, we knew we took them; things have come out against us, and therefore we have no cause for complaint, but bow to the will of Providence, determined still to do our best to the last. But if we have been willing to give our lives to this enterprise, which is for the honour of our country, I appeal to our countrymen to see that those who depend on us are properly cared for.

Had we lived, I should have had a tale to tell of the hardihood, endurance, and courage of my companions which would have stirred the heart of every Englishman. These rough notes and our dead bodies must tell the tale, but surely, surely a great rich country like ours will see that those who are dependent on us are properly provided for.

(Signed) R. SCOTT.

This chapter would be incomplete without Wilson's own beautiful lines from the "South Polar Times";

THE BARRIER SILENCE

The Silence was deep with a breath like sleep As our sledge runner slid on the snow, And the fateful fall of our fur-clad feet Struck mute like a silent blow. On a questioning "hush," as the settling crust Shrank shivering over the floe; And the sledge in its track sent a whisper back Which was lost in a white-fog bow. And this was the thought that the Silence wrought As it scorched and froze us through, Though secrets hidden are all forbidden Till God means man to know. We might be the men God meant should know The heart of the Barrier snow, In the heat of the sun, and the glow And the glare from the glistening floe, As it scorched and froze us through and through With the bite of the drifting snow.



CHAPTER XVII

THE SECOND WINTER—FINDING OF THE POLAR PARTY

The foregoing story of triumph and disaster going hand in hand to Scott dwarfed the remaining chapters of the Expedition's history into insignificance. I venture, however, to give a resume of what was happening elsewhere in this region at the time.

The Norwegian explorers commenced their trip homeward to Framheim in the Bay of Whales, a distance of 870 English miles, on December 17, 1911 and made the amazing marching average of 22 1/2 miles a day for this distance.

On January 25, 1912, at 4 a.m., Amundsen's men regained the shelter of their winter quarters, when poor Scott was still only 30 miles from the Pole on his return journey.

This undoubtedly establishes the superiority of dogs in great numbers for Polar sledge travelling, for Scott delayed his start on account of the inability of his ponies to face the severity of the Barrier weather conditions before November 1. Peary in the North had already with dogs achieved what Amundsen did in the South. Captain Amundsen has always expressed his wonder at our performance—and in his modest way he told me he himself could never have manhauled as Scott's men did.

Concerning the attempts to support the Southern party, Scott's instructions were quite clear, and they were certainly obeyed. As a matter of fact there was never any anxiety felt for the Southern party until after March 10. They themselves never imagined they would reach Hut Point before that time, and as the last supporting party had won through short-handed, and after pulling in harness for 1500 miles, it was not considered likely that the Southern party would fail—unless overtaken by scurvy.

What actually happened was this. Stores were landed by those at the base station on the re-arrival of the "Terra Nova," and Atkinson, who was the senior member of those not now returning in her to civilisation, took over the dogs according to Scott's directions. He proceeded to Hut Point with Dimitri and the two dog teams on 13th February, and was kept in camp by bad weather until 19th, when Crean reached the Hut and brought in the news of my breakdown and collapse at Corner Camp. A blizzard precluded a start for the purpose of relieving me, but this expedition was undertaken immediately the weather abated. It was only during a temporary clear that Lashly and I were rescued.

Considering my condition, Atkinson judged that if help could be obtained from Cape Evans, his duty was to stay with me and save my life if possible, and to depute Cherry-Garrard or Wright to take the dog-teams out to One Ton Camp with Dimitri.

Scott would have preferred Wright to remain at Cape Evans, because he had now relieved Simpson as physicist—Simpson being recalled by the Indian Government.

So it was decided that Cherry-Garrard should take out the teams, which he did, with twenty-four days' food for his own unit and two weeks' surplus stores for the Southern party, with all kinds of special delicacies.

The real object of this trip was to hasten the Southern party's return rather than to succour them.

Cherry-Garrard and Dimitri had a tough time of it. They, however, reached One Ton Camp on March, and were held there by blizzard weather, which made travelling impossible. Temperatures of 40 degrees below zero and lower were experienced, the dogs were suffering acutely, and Cherry-Garrard had to decide on the better course—to remain at One Ton Camp, which Scott would surely make, if thus far north, with two competent navigators in his team, or to scout and risk missing the party, whilst using up the dogs' remaining strength. He very properly remained at One Ton Camp and made his depot on 10th March, and after satisfying himself that over a month's travelling rations were in the depot, Cherry-Garrard started homeward, but he had by no means a sinecure in this journey back—his dogs went wild at the start, smashed the sledge-meter adrift, fought, and would keep no definite direction, thick weather set in, and they had a fearful time marching northwards.

The season was rapidly closing, and without the practice in fog navigation which the naval officers had, the situation of the unit was alarming. The two men got into severe pressure and found great open crevasses—this with their dogs ravenous and out of hand. Dimitri practically collapsed, and being unable to express himself properly in English, one can picture what Cherry-Garrard had to contend with. Late on March 16 they won through to Hut Point in exceedingly bad condition. Atkinson was seriously alarmed, and had two more sick men to nurse back to strength.

The dogs were frost-bitten, gaunt, and quite unfit for further work that season. Meantime during the absence of the dog teams, before there was anxiety on Scott's account, Pennell, responding to Atkinson's letter for help, brought the "Terra Nova" up towards Hut Point, and a party under Rennick conveyed me in pitiful state to the ship in my sleeping-bag.

I was placed in the Captain's cabin, and given Drake and Day as nurses. I owe them a great debt too. Atkinson had still to remain at my side, for I was even then at death's door—and, it is only due to Atkinson's unremitting care that I am alive to-day. He came up therefore in the ship and participated in the search for Campbell in the vicinity of Evans's Coves, but after several unsuccessful attempts the "Terra Nova" temporarily abandoned her objective and returned to Cape Evans on March 4. Here Keohane was picked up and taken with Atkinson to Hut Point—Pennell relieved Atkinson of further responsibility on my account and then landed him with Keohane here. It was impressed on Atkinson that there was very little chance of relieving Campbell with ice conditions as they were. They laid up a store of seal meat and blubber against the return of Scott's company, while the ship made another fruitless attempt to relieve Campbell. She did not return South after this on account of the sea freezing and her own coal shortage, but proceeded back to New Zealand, in accordance with her Commanding Officer's instructions. Pennell was not justified in keeping the "Terra Nova" any later in the McMurdo Sound.

Now let us consider poor Atkinson. He had Dimitri and Cherry-Garrard at Hut Point in a state of collapse—he had on 16th March the knowledge that the Polar Party were still on the Barrier with a season closing in and a certainty of low temperature—there was no communication with Cape Evans, for the ice had gone out and left open water between the two positions. After discussing the situation fully, Atkinson and Keohane started out alone to succour Scott's party. It was on March 26 that Atkinson and Keohane set out, this being later in the year than we had sledged in 1911, when it will be remembered we gave up depot-laying on account of the hardship entailed, although we were fresh men and had not undergone the severe test of a long season's sledge work. Atkinson could only manage about nine miles daily, he and Keohane got practically no sleep owing to the cold, and they turned homeward after depositing a week's food supply at Corner Camp, in case it could be made use of. Atkinson was morally certain that the Polar Party had perished by this time, and, as he states in his record of proceedings ("The last year at Cape Evans, 'Scott's Last Expedition,' Vol. II."), Scott's last diary entry was made before he and Keohane reached Corner Camp. Atkinson arrived back at Hut Point on April 1, 1912, utterly worn out, and in great concern on Campbell's account, for the Northern party were known to be somewhere on the coast. He could do nothing without assistance from Cape Evans, and he awaited, therefore, the opportunity of reaching the base station as we all had done when stranded at Hut Point twelve months previously. On April 10, leaving Cherry-Garrard to tend the dogs, Atkinson, Keohane, and Dimitri made their way to Cape Evans via the Castle Rock, Glacier Tongue route, as described in the earlier part of this narrative, but, as it happens, under almost unparalleled conditions, for they sailed over the ice, riding on their sledge, such was the excellence of the sea-ice surface.

The indefatigable Atkinson called the members together to discuss plans and decide as to future relief work. The idea of making a farther journey on to the Ice Barrier to succour Scott was rejected as useless—for there was no hope whatever for the Southern party, and Atkinson himself knew what the Barrier travelling was like. There was, however, a chance of relieving Campbell and his five companions, known to have been set ashore in the neighbourhood of Terra Nova Bay, and with this end in view, Atkinson, Wright, Keohane, Williamson, Gran, and Dimitri set off on April 13.

The last two were left at Hut Point whilst Atkinson and the other three worked round the Southern end of McMurdo Sound on the sea-ice and up the coast to Butter Point. It was a dangerous proceeding, but Atkinson was undaunted by the perils of the sea ice breaking up, and he carried out a tip-and-run sort of journey with great pluck and endurance, establishing a depot of a fortnight's foodstuffs at Butter Point. On April. 20 the ice was seen to break up and drift seawards from Butter Point, thus finally putting a stop to any further search or relief work.

A somewhat hazardous return journey landed Atkinson's team at Hut Point, and his whole party was re-collected at the Cape Evans Base by May 1 with the dogs.

Here Lashly was looking after the seven mules presented by the Indian Government, which the ship had brought down to enable Scott to explore further the extent of the Victoria Land Coast, S.E. of the Beardmore. Everything at Cape Evans in the scientific line was carried on as in the preceding winter, and although the staff was reduced the records and observations were continued as heretofore.

The Second Winter Party consisted of:

Officers—Atkinson, Wright, Debenham, Nelson, Cherry-Garrard, Gran. Men—Archer, Williamson, Crean, Lashly, Keohane, Dimitri, Hooper.

Mr. Archer, our capable chief cook and steward, replaced Clissold, and Williamson exchanged with Forde. The winter work of the Hut was reorganised by Atkinson, so that every one was detailed to do that for which he was best suited. Considering what the party had faced already, that they were living in the shadow of a great disaster, and that Campbell's fate was in doubt, one must feel that in a way they had the hardest time of all in the Expedition. They had to sit down, as it were, and wait in uncertainty for the winter to pass, then go out in search to ascertain the fate of their leader, and probably that of Campbell.

I can only give a brief summary of the second winter, taken from Atkinson's and Gran's accounts: the weather was probably exceptional from the persistency of the early winter blizzards. There was a great dearth of seal-meat, due to the ice blowing out from the North Bay and to the lack of ice everywhere in May month.

Debenham gave great joy to the company after examining the geological specimens brought by Atkinson's supporting party from the Beardmore. Fossils of plants and small marine animals were found amongst them.

Ice formed at the end of May, but again blew out in June—close on to midwinter, when the sea was seen to be phosphorescent, and Atkinson writes: "We had a wonderful show of phosphorescence—we saw a seal chasing a school of fish, the fish outlined with phosphorescence, and the seal with a glowing snout and all his body bright in hot pursuit."

On midwinter day, after the attendant festivities, Atkinson called the members together and outlined his plans for the coming season.

He says, "Two alternatives lay before us. One was to go South and try to discover the fate of Captain Scott's party. I thought it most likely that they had been lost in a crevasse on the Beardmore Glacier. Whether their bodies could be found or not, it was highly desirable to go even as far as the Upper Glacier Depot, nearly 600 miles from the Base, in the hope of finding a note left in some depot which could tell whether they had fulfilled their task or turned back before reaching the Pole. On general grounds it was of great importance not to leave the record of the Expedition incomplete, with one of its most striking chapters a blank.

"The other alternative was to go West and North to relieve Campbell and his party, always supposing they had survived the winter. If they had come through the winter every day of advancing summer would improve their chances of living on in Terra Nova Bay. At the same time there was good prospect of their ultimately being relieved by the ship, if indeed she had not taken them off in the autumn. As for ourselves, it seemed most improbable that we could journey up the coast owing to the abnormal state of the ice. Instead of being frozen for the winter, the whole Sound to the north and west of Inaccessible Island was open water during July; the ice was driven out by the exceptionally strong and frequent winds, and there was little chance of a firm road forming for the spring. Under these conditions officers and men unanimously supported the decision to go South."

An important fact is noted by Atkinson which is worth including for the guidance of future expeditions. Six new sledges came down per "Terra Nova" from Messrs. Hagen of Christiania, with tapered runners—the breadth of the runner in front being 4 inches, diminishing to 2 1/2 on the after part of the sledge. Compared with our original 12-foot pattern the new sledges contrasted to great advantage over the old. The idea seems to be that the broad iron portion should run over and smooth the track for the after tapered portion.

The sun returned after its four months' absence on August 23 and found the little party in excellent health and cheerful spirits. The mules and dogs had been carefully exercised to be ready and fit for the new journey South. A depot was laid 12 miles south of Corner Camp in mid-October, and another by the dogs soon after. On October 29 Wright, Nelson, Gran, Lashly, Crean, Williamson, Keohane, and Hooper left with six mules, sledges, and a considerable provision store to search for Captain Scott and the Polar Party. Atkinson followed with Cherry-Garrard and Dimitri on 1st November, taking the best available dogs in two teams. Without any great trouble they reached One Ton Camp on November 10, having joined forces with the mule party. Atkinson notes that here he found, as we had done before, an oil shortage from paraffin tins in the depot leaking, although there was no hole discernible. Some stores had been spoilt in consequence. On the morning of 12th November the party found what they sought—Scott's tent, snowed up and presenting a cairn-like appearance.

From Gran's diary the following is taken:

"It has happened—horrible, ugly fate, only 11 miles from One Ton Depot, Scott, Wilson, and Birdie. All ghastly. I will never forget it as long as I live: a terrible nightmare could not have shown more horror than this 'Campo Santo.' In a tent, snow covered to above the door, we found the three bodies. Scott in the middle, half out of his bag, Birdie on his right, and Uncle Bill on the left, lying head towards the door. .. Bowers and Wilson seem to have passed away in a kind of sleep.... Concerning our unlucky Polar Party we learned that Petty Officer Evans died at the Lower Glacier Depot; he was done, and had fallen coming down the Glacier: death was the result of a concussion of the brain. On the Barrier they met with extreme low temperatures. Down to -50 degrees in the night time for weeks, also head wind.

"'Soldier' had got his feet frost-bitten badly and suffered enormously. He understood that the salvation of the party depended on his death—but as death would not relieve him he went out of the tent in a blizzard to meet it. The three others arrived here at this camp March 21 with food for two days and fuel for one meal. A terrible blizzard prevented them from getting in, and on March 29 all was finished.

"Scott writes in his diary: 'There is no more hope, and so God look after our people....' All this only a day's march from plenty.... We buried them this morning, a solemn undertaking. How strange it was to see men bareheaded whilst the wind blew with the thermometer at -20 degrees. We are now going to look for 'Soldier' and then return to look for Campbell. I must say our Expedition is not given much luck ... the sun is shining beautifully in this place of death: over the Bluff this morning stood a distinct cross in clouds."

It continues: "November 12, Lunch time:

"We have built a cairn—a 12-foot cairn—and put a cross made of a pair of skis on it...." Gran says later, and it is worth quoting: "When I saw those three poor souls the other day, I just felt that I envied them. They died having done something great. How hard death must be for those who meet it having done nothing."

Atkinson in his account says:

"We recovered all their gear and dug out the sledge with their belongings on it. Amongst these were 35 lb. of very important geological specimens which had been collected on the moraines of the Beardmore Glacier: at Doctor Wilson's request they had stuck to these up to the very end, even when disaster stared them in the face and they knew that the specimens were so much weight added to what they had to pull...."

The following record was left:

"November 12, 1912, Latitude 79 degrees, 50 minutes, South. This cross and cairn are erected over the bodies of Captain Scott, C.V.O., R.N., Doctor E.A. Wilson, M.B., B.C., Cantab., and Lieutenant H.R. Bowers, Royal Indian Marine—a slight token to perpetuate their successful and gallant attempt to reach the Pole. This they did on January 17, 1912, after the Norwegian Expedition had already done so. Inclement weather with lack of fuel was the cause of their death. Also to commemorate their two gallant comrades, Captain L.E.G. Oates of the Inniskilling Dragoons, who walked to his death in a blizzard to save his comrades, about eighteen miles south of this position; also of Seaman Edgar Evans, who died at the foot of the Beardmore Glacier. 'The Lord gave and the Lord taketh away; blessed be the name of the Lord.'"

This was signed by all the members of the party.

"I decided then to march twenty miles south with the whole of the Expedition and try to find the body of Captain Oates. For half the day we proceeded south, as far as possible along the line of the previous season's march. On one of the old pony walls, which was simply marked by a ridge of the surface of the snow, we found Oates's sleeping-bag, which they had brought along with them after he had left.

"The next day we proceeded thirteen miles more south, hoping and searching to find his body. When we arrived at the place where he had left them, we saw that there was no chance of doing so. The kindly snow had covered his body, giving him a fitting burial. Here, again, as near to the site of the death as we could judge, we built another cairn to his memory, and placed thereon a small cross and the following record: 'Hereabouts died a very gallant gentleman, Captain L.E.G. Oates of the Inniskilling Dragoons. In March, 1912, returning from the Pole, he walked willingly to his death in a blizzard, to try and save his comrades, beset by hardships. This note is left by the Relief Expedition of 1912.'"

Atkinson writes also, and it should be inserted most certainly here, referring to their return after hunting for poor Oates's body:

"On the second day we came again to the resting place of the three and bade them there a final farewell. There alone in their greatness they will lie without change or bodily decay, with the most fitting tomb in the world above them."

Atkinson could not have expressed himself more beautifully. My book should end here, but there is an epilogue to it: it is the illuminating story of Campbell and his northern party, with a short indication of what was done elsewhere by the Expedition's men. The homeward journey was made in sorrow and doubt, for Atkinson's little band of brothers had to shoulder another responsibility—the determination of Campbell's fate.

On November 27, 1912, Gran's diary gives as follows:

"Great news again—great, good news. Campbell here and his party safe at Cape Evans. They just missed us going out. They lived a winter a la Eskimo, Igloo and so on, and have been quite comfortable, so they say. Campbell is looking very well. He is now in command, and intends to do only small trips—Erebus and so on...."

Atkinson now handed over to Campbell, and whilst mentioning this it is just as well to call attention to the splendid services of Dr. Atkinson. Grit and loyalty were his outstanding qualities. He was later on specially promoted to Surgeon Commander for his work in the Expedition.



CHAPTER XVIII

ADVENTURES OF THE NORTHERN PARTY

To set forth concisely the adventurous story of Campbell's Northern Party in a single chapter is no light task. Raymond Priestley has written it in book form already, just as Griffith-Taylor has published his particular narrative of the Western Journey in "The Silver Lining." Both books are of absorbing interest to those who are fond of Polar literature.

I have, I hope, made clear the reason of Campbell's landing at Cape Adare. Mr. Borchgrevink in his "Southern Cross" Antarctic Expedition used this position as his winter quarters, and found, just as Campbell did, that it was not a suitable part of the Antarctic continent for making extensive sledge journeys from. Still, King Edward's Land was denied him. Amundsen was established before him in the Bay of Whales, and in spite of diligent search the Cape Adare choice was the only one left to Victor Campbell and his five companions. Scott's instructions have already been reproduced in this volume: he mentioned Robertson Bay, and Cape Adare is at the N.E. extreme of the Promontory bounding the Bay to the Eastward.

Campbell was by no means satisfied with his landing place, but coal was short in the "Terra Nova" and the season drawing in. He had vainly searched for a more profitable wintering place, and it was not until February 17 that he got his chance of landing here even.

The party and their stores were put ashore on the beach which the "Southern Cross" Expedition had chosen, for want of a better spot where their stuff could be set safely on land. Loose ice and surf hampered operations, for owing to shallow water, boats had to convey hut, gear, and equipment from the ship instead of sledges taking it over fast ice, as was the case at Cape Evans. It was truly a case of bundling Campbell and Co. out of the ship, and only their great optimism and bonhomie kept this party from despair. As it turned out they had some of the best of the Expedition game, since neither disaster nor terrific disappointment dogged their steps as in Scott's case, for up till the very last they were in blissful ignorance of our dreadful plight in the main party.

The old huts left by Borchgrevink in 1900 were much dilapidated: one snowed up inside, and the other roofless and full of penguin guano. The snow was all removed from the snow-choked hut, and this shack used as a temporary shelter during the building of the Chateau Campbell. The work of landing stores from the "Terra Nova" was accomplished in two days, and the ship, after tooting a farewell to the little party on her siren, steamed away and left them to their own devices.

The Cape Adare locality is a famous penguin rookery, and Campbell's men might for all the world have been erecting their hut on Hampstead Heath during a Bank Holiday, for the penguins gathered in their thousands around them in a cawing, squawking crowd.

Penguins are the true inhabitants of Antarctica, and have flourished for countless ages in these parts. Surgeon Levick, Campbell's doctor, has written a splendid little book entitled "Antarctic Penguins" (Heinemann), which tells all about the little beggars in popular language. The members landed with Lieutenant Victor Campbell were:

Levick . . . Surgeon and Zoologist. Priestley . . Geologist. Abbott . . . Seaman. Browning . . Seaman. Dickason . . Seaman.

The three seamen were chosen by Campbell after careful observation on the outward voyage.

The Northern Party Hut was completed and first inhabited by March 5. An ice house for the storage of fresh meat was constructed, or rather hollowed out of an iceberg grounded close to. Unfortunately, this had to be evacuated owing to a surf causing the berg to disintegrate, and V Campbell puts it, "we had only just time to rescue the forty penguins with which we had stocked it, and carry the little corpses to a near ice-house built of empty cases filled with ice."

To appreciate best the surrounding hereabouts one may as well give a brief description of the Cape Adare and Robertson Bay environment. The place on which the hut was built is a small triangular beach cut off from the mainland by inaccessible cliffs. A fine bay, containing an area of perhaps nine hundred square miles, lies to the westward, and south and behind this the Admiralty Range of Mountains rises in snowy splendour to heights of 10,000 feet or more; other ranges are visible far to the westward, whilst black basalt rocks overhang the station.

Several wall-faced glaciers are visible, but according to Campbell none are possible to climb on to, nor do they lead up to the inland plateau. On this account the party were unable to accomplish any serious sledging whilst landed here. Other things were undertaken, and the members did excellent meteorological, geological, and magnetic work, while Campbell himself made some good surveys. Priestley has added, greatly to our geological knowledge, and he, with his previous Antarctic experience, made himself invaluable to his chief. The Aurora observations show much more variegated results than we got at Cape Evans, where, as pointed out, there was a great absence of colour beyond pale yellow in the displays.

The principal drawback of the beach here was its covering of guano and manure dust from the myriads of penguins and their predecessors. I had gone ashore at Cape Adare as a sub-lieutenant on January 8, 1903, to leave a record, and I remember that we had literally to trample on the penguins to get across the beach to Borchgrevink's hut—how interesting it all was, my first landing on this inhospitable continent: my impressions left a wonderful memory of mouse-coloured, woolly little young of the Adelie penguin—I even remember taking one away and trying unsuccessfully to bring it up. It must have taken Campbell's crew a long time to get accustomed to the pungent odour thereabouts. Levick dressed the ground with bleaching powder to help dispel that dreadful odour of guano before Campbell's men put down their hut floor.

There is little to be set down concerning the Cape Adare winter—the routine much resembled our own winter routine at Cape Evans; it was much warmer, however, and being six degrees farther north the sun left the party nearly a month later and returned the same amount earlier; they had little more than two months with the sun below the horizon in fact.

There is a certain amount of quiet humour about Campbell's record; for instance, he states that they used their "pram" or Norwegian skiff and tried trawling for biological specimens on March 27—"our total catch was one sea-louse, one sea-slug, and one spider."

It is very interesting to note that in March they had Aurora in which "an arc of yellow stretched from N.W. to N.E., while a green and red curtain extended from the N.W. horizon to the zenith."

The "pram" was Campbell's gift to the Expedition. He was always alive in the matter of small boats and their uses, and he was the first to use "kayaks" by making canvas boats to fit round the sledges; these were light enough and might have well been used by us in the Main Party. Had poor Mackintosh possessed one in Shackleton's last expedition he and his companions would probably have saved themselves—if they had carried a canvas cover on a sledge with them however it is always easy to be wise after the event.

Levick's medical duties were very light indeed: they included the stopping of one of Campbell's teeth, and the latter says, "As he had been flensing a seal a few days before, his fingers tasted strongly of blubber."

Priestly took charge of the meteorology for this station in addition to his own special subjects. Abbott was the carpenter, Browning the acetylene gas-man, and Dickason the cook and baker. With these ends in view Mr. Archer had had Dickason in the galley on board during the outward voyage.

This hut of theirs was stayed down with wire hawser on account of the gales recorded by the "Southern Cross" Expedition.

The company's alarm clock, an invention of Browning's, deserves the description taken from Campbell's diary: "We have felt the want of an alarm clock, as in such a small party it seems undesirable that any one should have to remain awake the whole night to take the 2-4 a.m. observations, but Browning has come to the rescue with a wonderful contrivance. It consists of a bamboo spring held back by a piece of cotton rove through a candle which is marked off in hours. The other end of the cotton is attached to the trigger of the gramophone, and whoever takes the midnight observations winds the gramophone, 'sets' the cotton, lights the candle, and turns the trumpet towards Priestley, who has to turn out for the 2 a.m. At ten minutes to two the candle burns the thread and releases the bamboo spring, which being attached to the trigger, starts the gramophone in the sleeper's ear, and he turns out and stops the tune; this arrangement works beautifully and can be timed to five minutes."

Curiously enough Campbell's men sustained far more frostbites than we at Cape Evans did: in all my four Antarctic voyages I have never been frost-bitten beyond a touch here and there on the finger-tips working instruments, yet I occasionally now get chilblains in an ordinary English winter.

A short expedition was made by Campbell, Priestley, and Abbott on July 29, to determine the travelling condition and find out what sort of surface would be met with for coastwise sledging to come when the season opened. Speed worked out at little over seven miles a day on the outward trip to Duke of York Island. The salt-flecked, smooth ice was heavier going than much rougher stuff where pressure obtained.

On August 8 a small two-day geological expedition was undertaken, and prepared to start on a more extensive journey westward; the party were disappointed to find the ice had all blown out and left them water-girdled; a blizzard of unusual violence followed the exit of ice, and the storehouse roof was torn away.

It must have been a severe blow to the energetic Campbell that he was denied serious sledging while quartered at Cape Adare. Minor expeditions were undertaken and some useful information gleaned, but unsafe ice and unsatisfactory conditions all round prevented any of the really long journeys Campbell would otherwise have made.

The "Terra Nova" was sighted on January 4, and in two days Campbell, his party and belongings were safely on board and proceeding along the coast eager to try their fortunes farther South, Evans Coves in Latitude 75 degrees being the next objective. The ship was placed alongside the Piedmont here on January 8, near a big moraine close north of the Coves. A depot of provisions was established, and an arrangement was come to between Pennell and Campbell that the latter should be picked up on February 18. Reference to the sketch charts will show the part of Victoria Land in which Campbell was now working.

It was proposed to sledge round Mount Melbourne to Wood Bay, and examine the neighbourhood geologically and geographically. The sledge team found some remarkable ice structures and new and interesting glaciers. They had, a crop of small adventures, and found sandstone rock containing fossil wood and many other excellent fossils, garnets, etc., besides which Campbell did good work surveying. A new glacier was named after Priestley and another after Campbell.

More fossils were discovered on February 1, and a quantity of lichens, shells, worm casts, and sponge spicules were discovered in the locality of Evans Coves, to which the party returned. On February 17 they began to look for the "Terra Nova," but as time went on and she did not put in an appearance Campbell prepared to winter. Pennell as we know had met with ice conditions that were insuperable, and he never got the ship within 30 miles of the coast. Pennell, Rennick, and Bruce did all that men could do to work the "Terra Nova" through, but communication was impossible that season, and the Northern Party was left to face the rigours of a Polar winter with nothing more than four weeks' sledging ration and 270 lb. of biscuits extra. His companions could not have been better chosen to help Campbell through this ordeal. The leader knew his men absolutely, and they themselves were lucky in having such a resourceful and determined officer in charge.

On March 1 Victor Campbell selected a hard snow slope for the winter home, and into this he and his men cut and burrowed until they had constructed an igloo or snow house, 13 feet by 9: They insulated this with blocks of snow and seaweed. A trench roofed with sealskins and snow formed the entrance, and at the sides of this passage they had their store rooms and larder.

All the time this house was under construction a party was employed killing penguins and seals, for which they kept a constant lookout. By March 15 their larder contained 120 penguins and 11 seals. After this date gale succeeded gale and the winter set in with a long run of bad weather. Campbell and his companions led a very primitive existence here for six and a half months.

They only had their light summer sledging clothes to wear, and these soon became saturated with blubber: their hair and beards grew, and they were soon recognisable only by their voices. Some idea of their discomforts will be gleaned by a description of their diet. Owing to their prospective journey to Cape Evans, Campbell had first to reduce the biscuit supply from eight to two biscuits a day, and then to one.

Generally their diet consisted of one mug of "pemmican and seal hoosh" and a biscuit for breakfast, nothing for lunch, a mug and a half of seal, one biscuit and three-quarters of a pint of thin cocoa for supper. On Sundays weak tea was substituted for cocoa, this they re-boiled for Mondays' supper, and the dried leaves were used for tobacco on Tuesdays. Their only luxuries were a piece of chocolate and twelve lumps of sugar, weekly, and twenty-five raisins apiece were kept for birthdays. One lucky find was thirty-six fish in the stomach of a seal, which fried in blubber proved excellent. The biscuit ration had to be stopped entirely from July to September. The six men cooked their food in sea-water as they had no salt, and seaweed was used as a vegetable. Priestley is reported to have disliked it, and no wonder, for it has probably rotted in the sun for years, and the penguins have trampled it all down, apart from anything worse.

Campbell kept a wonderful discipline in his party, and as they were sometimes confined to the igloo for days, Swedish drill was introduced to keep them healthy. A glance at their weather record shows how necessary this was. We find one day snowing hard, next day blowing hard, and the third day blowing and snowing hard, nearly all through the winter. But there was never a complaint.

On Sunday divine service was performed, which consisted of Campbell reading a chapter of the Bible, followed by hymns. They had no hymn book, but Priestley remembered several, while Abbott, Browning and Dickason had all been at some time or other in a choir.

To add to their discomfort, owing to the state of their clothing and meagre food supply, they were very susceptible to frostbites, and Jack Frost made havoc with feet, fingers, and faces.

We should here give a little thought to the dark dreariness of their surroundings. This party was not so very far north of Cape Evans, and their winter was only about three weeks shorter if measured by the sun's absence below the horizon—the contrast between the "palace" at Cape Evans and the ice-cave at Campbell's position is ridiculous, and to think that the little crew remained cheerful and in harmony under such troglodyte conditions, it makes one wonder more and more at the manner of the men. They had none of the comfort, entertainment, and good feeling of their co-explorers at the base, the very dimensions of their habitation explains for itself the cramped nature of their existence, and yet no complaints, and nothing but unswerving loyalty to their boss. Weaker minded men would have broken down mentally under the strain of living through that winter.

The sunlight went at the beginning of May, gradually leaving them with those peculiar drawn-out half lights, which we all grew to know so well—the whimpering purple clouds, the sad-looking hills, and the desolate ice slopes and snow drifts—the six men were imprisoned with sullen hills and unassailable mountains for jailers, until they had undergone their sentence—the sea their chief jailer, for the sea had set them there and it was for the sea to decide on the time of their release.

Boots had long since given out, and they had to guard against ruining their finneskoe or it would have been good-bye to any sledging round to Cape Evans when the sea did freeze. Seal blubber was utilised for cooking, and whenever seals were killed the chunks of this greasy stuff had to be carried to the igloo on the men's backs—this meant that their clothes soon smelt very badly, which circumstance added to the misery of their living conditions.

On May 6 Campbell's party sustained a severe disappointment, for they saw what appeared to be four men coming towards them. Immediately they jumped to the conclusion that the ship had been frozen in and that this was a search party. The four figures turned out to be Emperor penguins, and although disappointing in one way they served to replenish the larder, and so had their use.

Here are three specimen diary pages extracted from Campbell's journey:

April 9.—Warmer to-day. We saw a small seal on a floe but were unable to reach him. The bay remains open still. On the still days a thin film of ice forms, but blows out as soon as the wind comes up. In these early days, before we had perfected our cooking and messing arrangements, a great part of our day was taken up with cooking and preparing the food, but later on we got used to the ways of a blubber stove, and things went more smoothly. We had landed all our spare paraffin from the ship, and this gave us enough oil to use the primus for breakfast, provided we melted the ice over the blubber fire the day before. The blubber stove was made of an old oil tin cut down. In this we put some old seal bones taken from the carcasses we found on the beach.

"A piece of blubber skewered on to a marline-spike and held over the flame dripped oil on the bones and fed the fire. In this way we could cook hoosh nearly as quickly as we could on the primus. Of course the stove took several weeks of experimenting before it reached this satisfactory state. With certain winds we were nearly choked with a black, oily smoke that hurt our eyes and brought on much the same symptoms as accompany snow-blindness.

"We take it in turns to be cook and messman, working in pairs: Abbott and I, Levick and Browning, Priestley and Dickason, and thus each has one day on in three. The duties of the cooks are to turn out at 7 and cook and serve out the breakfast, the others remaining in their bags for the meal. Then we all have a siesta till 10.30, when we turn out for the day's work: The cook starts the blubber stove and melts blubber for the lamps. The mess-man takes an ice-axe and chips frozen seal meat in the passage by the light of a blubber lamp. A cold job this and trying to the temper, as scraps of meat fly in all directions and have to be care-fully collected afterwards. The remainder carry up the meat and blubber, or look for seals. By 5 p.m. all except the cooks are in their bags, and we have supper. After supper the cooks melt ice for the morning, prepare breakfast, and clear up."

"May 7.—A blizzard with heavy drift has been blowing all day, so it was a good job we got the penguins. We have got the roof on the shaft now, but in these blizzards the entrance is buried in snow, and we have a job to keep the shaft clear. Priestley has found his last year's journal, and reads some to us every evening.

"From now till the end of the month strong gales again reduced our outside work to a minimum, and most of our energies were directed to improving our domestic routine.

"We have now a much better method for cutting up the meat for the hoosh. Until now we had to take the frozen joints and hack them in pieces with an ice-axe. We have now fixed up an empty biscuit tin on a bamboo tripod over the blubber fire. The small pieces of meat we put in this to thaw: the larger joints hang from the bamboo. In this way they thaw sufficiently in the twenty-four hours to cut up with a knife, and we find this cleaner and more economical.

"We celebrated two special occasions on this month, my wedding day on the 10th, and the anniversary, to use a paradox, of the commissioning of the hut on the 17th, and each time the commissariat officer relaxed his hold to the extent of ten raisons each.

"Levick is saving his biscuit to see how it feels to go without cereals for a week. He also wants to have one real good feed at the end of the week. His idea is that by eating more blubber he will not feel the want of the biscuit very much."

"July 4.—Southerly wind, with snow, noise of pressure at sea and the ice in the Bay breaking up. Evidently there is wind coming, and the sea ice which has recently formed will go out again like the rest. It is getting rather a serious question as to whether there will be any sea ice for us to get down the coast on. I only hope that to the South of the Drygalski ice tongue, where the south-easterlies are the prevailing winds, we shall find the ice has held. Otherwise it will mean that we shall have to go over the plateau, climbing up by Mount Larsen, and coming down the Ferrar Glacier, and if so we cannot start until November, and the food will be a problem.

"We made a terrible discovery in a hoosh tonight: a penguin's flipper. Abbott and I prepared the hoosh. I can remember using a flipper to clean the pot with, and in the dark Abbott cannot have seen it when he filled the pot. However, I assured every one it was a fairly clean flipper, and certainly the hoosh was a good one."

In this diary are some remarkable entries. Attempts were made to vary the flavour of the "Hooshes"—one entry is very queer reading: it related how after trying one or two other expedients Levick used a mustard plaster in the pemmican and seal stew. The unanimous decision was that it must have been a linseed poultice, for mustard could not be tasted at all, yet the flavour of linseed was most distinct.

Campbell says that Midwinter Day gave them seasonable weather, pitch dark, with wind and a smothering drift outside. The men awoke early and were so eager and impatient for their full ration on this special occasion that they could not remain in their sleeping-bags, but turned out to cook a "full hoosh breakfast" for the first time for many weeks—that evening they repeated the hoosh and augmented it by cocoa with sugar in it, then four citric acid and two ginger tabloids. The day concluded with a smoke and a sing-song, a little tobacco having been put by for the event.

Soon after Midwinter Day a heavy snowstorm blocked the igloo entrance completely; in consequence the air became so bad that the primus stove went out and the lights would not burn. The inmates had to dig their way out to avoid being suffocated. This impoverishment of air had already happened through the same cause on other occasions, so the flickering and going out of the lamps warned immediately of danger, and a watch was set. Normally the chimney would have served, but this itself was buried under the snow until built up afresh.

The winter passed in dismal hardship, and even when the rare spells of fine weather occurred the party dare not venture far afield in their meagre, oil-saturated clothing—severe frostbite would have spelt disaster.

What the place must have looked like by moonlight I hate to think; by daylight with sunshine it looked bad enough, but from Levick's description it looked, when the moon was shining through storm cloud, like an inferno, with its lugubrious ridges, its inky shadows, and wicked ice-gleams. The odd figures of the blubber-smeared, grimy men added the Dante touch.

The sun came back at last, and with it the party's spirits rose considerably; they indulged in bets and jokes at one another's expense. Browning and Dickason were undoubtedly the wittiest, and "the fish supper bet" is worth inclusion. Short said these two started an argument on the name of a certain public-house situate on Portsmouth Hard. One said one name, one argued another, until Dr. Levick was invited to settle the dispute by arbitration, the loser to stand the winner a fish supper. Eventually Browning was adjudged to be correct, and Dickason in a fit of generosity shouted, "All right, old man, and for every fish you eat I'll stand you a quart of beer." "Right-o, the only fish I cares for is whitebait," replied Browning.

Towards the end of the winter, owing to the unusual diet, sickness set in in the shape of enteritis. Browning suffered dreadfully, but always remained cheerful. The ravages of the illness weakened the party sadly, and details are too horrible to write about—suffice it that the party lost control of their organs, a circumstance that rendered existence in their wintering place a nightmare of privations.

Preparations were made for the party's departure in the spring and the sledges overhauled. A depot of geological specimens was established and marked by a bamboo.

A curious ailment developed itself, which was named "Igloo Back," from constant bending in the low-roofed igloo. It was due to the stretching of the ligaments around the spine and was a painful thing for the "cave-dwellers."

Campbell and his companions started for Cape Evans on September 30. Progress was slow and the party weak, but thanks to their grit and to Campbell's splendid leadership, the Northern Party all got through to the winter quarters alive. Browning had to be carried on the sledge part of the way, but fortunately they picked up one of Griffith-Taylor's depots, and the biscuit found here quite altered Browning's condition.

Poor Campbell was glad to get his party out of the dirt and dark of the igloo, but they were so weak that they could only march a mile from the first day, however the sledging ration contained good foodstuff compared to what they had eaten for weeks previously; and, oh, wise precaution! Campbell had deposited a small store of spare wind clothing and woollen underclothes against the journey over the sea to Cape Evans. This he issued on leaving that awful "igloo," and the luxury of getting into dry, clean clothing after the greasy rags they discarded was indescribable. For nine months had they worn those dirty garments without change.

The second day homeward at most gave five miles, but although tired out the party were in good spirits "at leaving the dirt and squalor of the hut behind." They were making their way south along the coast, sledging over the "Piedmont." Shortly after starting, the company were faced with an enormous crevasse, but this was safely negotiated by means of a snow bridge "175 paces across." Pace gradually lengthened and strengthened, and on 12th October 11 miles was covered, and on camping Erebus and Mount Melbourne were both in sight.

I do not propose to write a description of this journey back, it was not so dangerous as others had been, because seals and Emperor penguins were met with along the route, and so they ran no risk of starving; but they ran a great risk of losing Browning, who caused the doctor the gravest concern. They laboured home, however, and the leader's diary for one Red Letter, and Two Black Letter days must be included here, for they explain themselves:

"October 29.—Turned out at 4.30 a.m. A fine day, but a bank of cloud to the south and a cold westerly wind. A two hours' march brought us to Cape Roberts, where I saw through my glasses a bamboo stuck on the top of the cape. Leaving the sledges, Priestley and I climbed the cape, when we found a record left by the Western Party last year before they were picked up, and giving their movements, while near by was a depot of provisions they had left behind. We gave such a yell the others ran up the slope at once. It seemed almost too good to be true.

"We found two tins of biscuits, one slightly broached, and a small bag each of raisins, tea, cocoa, butter, and lard.

"There were also clothes, diaries, and specimens from Granite Harbour. I decided to camp here and have a day off.

"Dividing the provisions between the two tents, we soon had hoosh going and such a feed of biscuit, butter; and lard as we had not had for nine months, and we followed this up with sweet, thick cocoa. After this we killed and cut up a seal, as we are getting short of meat and there is every prospect of a blizzard coming on.

"Levick and Abbott saw a desperate fight between two bull seals to-day. They gashed each other right through skin and blubber till they were bleeding badly.

"We had another hoosh and more biscuit and lard in the evening; then we turned into our bags and, quite torpid with food, discussed our plans on arriving at Cape Evans. We had quite decided we should find no one there, for we believed the whole party had been blown north in the ship while trying to reach us. Still discussing plans we fell asleep.

"What with news from the main party and food (although both were a year old), it was the happiest day since we last saw the ship. I awoke in the night, finished my share of the butter and most of my lard, then dozed off again."

"November 6.—Another fine day. We marched till 1 p.m., when our sledge broke down, the whole runner coming off. As we were only one mile from Hut Point I camped. Priestley, Dickason, and I walked in to look for news and get another sledge, as I was sure some would be there.

"As we neared the Point we noticed fresh tracks of mule and dogs. I pointed them out to Priestley, and said, 'I hope there is nothing wrong with the Pole Party, as I do not like the look of these.' He said, 'No more do I' We ran up to the hut and found a letter from Atkinson to the 'Commanding Officer, Terra Nova.' I opened this and learnt the sad news of the loss of the Polar Party. The names of the party were not given, and finding Atkinson in charge of the search party which had started, I was afraid 2 units, or 8 men, were lost. Finding a sledge only slightly damaged, I took that back to the camp, getting back there about 5 p.m.

"We were all rather tired, so instead of starting straight on to Cape Evans, we had supper and went to sleep. Before turning in we made a depot of the broken sledge, all rock specimens, clothes and food, so as to travel light to Cape Evans. I was very anxious to get there as soon as possible, as I thought there was a chance that there might be one or two mules or enough dogs to enable me to follow the search party. It had been a great disappointment for us to have missed them by a week, as we were all anxious to join in the search."

"November 7.—4 a.m. A lovely morning. After a hasty breakfast we were off, arriving at Cape Evans at 5 p.m. We found no one at home, but a letter on the door of the hut gave us all the news and the names of the lost party. Very soon Debenham and Archer returned, giving us a most hearty, welcome, and no one can realise what it meant to us to see new faces and to be home after our long winter.

"Our clothes, letters, etc., had been landed from the ship, and we were able to read our home letters, which we had only time to glance at in the ship in February. Archer provided a sumptuous dinner that night, and we sailed into it in a way that made Debenham hold his breath. A bath and change of clothes completed the transformation."



CHAPTER XIX

NARRATIVE OF THE "TERRA NOVA"

The second ascent of Mount Erebus was carried out in December, 1912, by a party under Raymond Priestley, and although it cannot be described in a little volume like this a really fine scientific journey was made by Griffith-Taylor, Debenham, Gran, and Petty Officer Forde. They had the best time of the lot, for they carried out their explorations in blissful ignorance of the tribulations of Scott, Campbell, Atkinson and myself, whose stories I have tried to summarise.

For breezy reading and real bright narrative commend me to Griffith-Taylor. Volume II. of "Scott's Last Expedition" contains the story of the "Western journeys" as written by him, and they give quite truly the Silver Lining to the Cloud which formed about the rest of our Expedition.

For lightheartedness and good fellowship our Australian geologists should be given first prize. It is of little use writing about distances covered and dangers overcome in this connection, but if one considers that the Western Geological Party surveyed, examined, charted, photographed, and to some extent plodded over a mountainous, heavily glaciated land lying in an area of the entire acreage of Kent, Sussex, Hants, Dorset, Devon, and Cornwall, one gets a fair idea of what "Griff" and Co. were playing at.

Taylor was the first professional physiographer to visit the Antarctic Continent, and besides being an all round man of science he was an admirable fellow, with the widest outlook on life of any man amongst us.

I cannot pretend to write on geology; Taylor, Debenham, and Priestley are still drawing up reports on Antarctic physiography and glacial geology on our fossils collected, on the Barrier Movement, and the retreating ice of that Frozen Wonderland. Some day another expedition, more up to date than ours, will force its way into the Heart of that Frigid Zone. If this expedition sets out soon, I hope I may command it when I am still fresh and fit—if that great good fortune comes my way I shall telegraph to Griff and ask him to be my "Uncle Bill," and to help me as Wilson helped Scott.

As this is only a popular version of the last Scott Antarctic Expedition I have not collected any scientific appendices, and I have tried not to throw any bouquets at one member more than another—if I have failed I have done it accidentally, for one has no favourites after nearly ten years. My especial friends in the Expedition were the lieutenants, Campbell, Pennell, Rennick, Bowers, and Bruce, and of the scientists I was most fond of Nelson.

The concluding part of this narrative is concerned with our little ship, for which we had such affection.

To connect the story up one must go back to the time when on March 3, 1912, the "Terra Nova" made her last call for the year at Cape Evans—here she embarked those members returning home, who for various causes had not been collected before. Then it will be remembered that Keohane was taken to Hut Point and landed with Atkinson, and afterwards, owing to the thickening up of the ice in McMurdo Sound, the ship's head was turned Northward. The ice conditions off the Bay where Campbell was landed were terrific, and the little whaler had a tough time forcing her way out into the Ross Sea once more after failure to relieve him.