The Worst Journey in the World (83 page)

"
February 9, Moraine visit.
We made our way along down the moraine, and
at the end of Mt. Buckley
(I)
unhitched and had half an hour over the
rocks and again got some good things written up in sketch-book. We then
left the moraine and made a very good march on rough blue ice all day
with very small and scarce scraps of névé, on one of which we camped for
the night with a rather overcast foggy sky, which cleared to bright sun
in the night. We are all thoroughly enjoying temps. of +10° or
thereabouts now, with no wind instead of the summit winds which are
incessant with temp. -20°."

"
February 10.
?16 m. We made a very good forenoon march from 10 to 2.45
towards the Cloudmaker. Weather overcast gradually obscured everything in
snowfall fog, starting with crystals of large size.... We had to camp
after 2½ hours' afternoon march as it got too thick to see anything and
we were going downhill on blue ice...."
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The next day in bad lights and on a bad surface they fell into the same
pressure which both the other returning parties experienced. Like them
they were in the middle of it before they realized. "Then came the fatal
decision to steer east. We went on for 6 hours, hoping to do a good
distance, which I suppose we did, but for the last hour or two we
pressed on into a regular trap. Getting on to a good surface we did not
reduce our lunch meal, and thought all going well, but half an hour after
lunch we got into the worst ice mess I have ever been in. For three hours
we plunged on on ski, first thinking we were too much to the right, then
too much to the left; meanwhile the disturbance got worse and my spirits
received a very rude shock. There were times when it seemed almost
impossible to find a way out of the awful turmoil in which we found
ourselves.... The turmoil changed in character, irregular crevassed
surface giving way to huge chasms, closely packed and most difficult to
cross. It was very heavy work, but we had grown desperate. We won through
at 10 P.M., and I write after 12 hours on the march...."
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Wilson continues the story:

"
February 12.
We had a good night just outside the ice-falls and
disturbances, and a small breakfast of tea, thin hoosh and biscuit, and
began the forenoon by a decent bit of travelling on rubbly blue ice in
crampons: then plunged into an ice-fall and wandered about in it for
hours and hours."

"
February 13.
We had one biscuit and some tea after a night's sleep on
very hard and irregular blue ice amongst the ice-fall crevasses. No snow
on the tent, only ski, etc. Got away at 10 A.M. and by 2 P.M. found the
depôt, having had a good march over very hard rough blue ice. Only ½ hour
in the disturbance of yesterday. The weather was very thick, snowing and
overcast, could only just see the points of bearing for depôt. However,
we got there, tired and hungry, and camped and had hoosh and tea and 3
biscuits each. Then away again with our three and a half days' food from
this red flag depôt and off down by the Cloudmaker moraine. We travelled
about 4 hours on hard blue ice, and I was allowed to geologize the last
hour down the two outer lines of boulders. The outer one all dolerite and
quartz rocks, the inner all dolerite and sandstone.... We camped on the
inner line of boulders, weather clearing all the afternoon."
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Meanwhile both Wilson and Bowers had been badly snow-blind, though Wilson
does not mention it in his diary; and this night Scott says Evans had no
power to assist with camping work. A good march followed on February 14,
but "there is no getting away from the fact that we are not pulling
strong. Probably none of us: Wilson's leg still troubles him and he
doesn't like to trust himself on ski; but the worst case is Evans, who is
giving us serious anxiety. This morning he suddenly disclosed a huge
blister on his foot. It delayed us on the march, when he had to have his
crampon readjusted. Sometimes I feel he is going from bad to worse, but I
trust he will pick up again when we come to steady work on ski like this
afternoon. He is hungry and so is Wilson. We can't risk opening out our
food again, and as cook at present I am serving something under full
allowance. We are inclined to get slack and slow with our camping
arrangement, and small delays increase. I have talked of the matter
to-night and hope for improvement. We cannot do distance without the
hours."
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There was something wrong with this party: more wrong, I mean, than was
justified by the tremendous journey they had already experienced. Except
for the blizzard at the bottom of the Beardmore and the surfaces near the
Pole it had been little worse than they expected. Evans, however, who was
considered by Scott to be the strongest man of the party, had already
collapsed, and it is admitted that the rest of the party was becoming far
from strong. There seems to be an unknown factor here somewhere.

Wilson's diary continues: "
February 15. 13¾ m. geog.
I got on ski again
first time since damaging my leg and was on them all day for 9 hours. It
was a bit painful and swelled by the evening, and every night I put on
snow poultice. We are not yet abreast of Mt. Kyffin, and much discussion
how far we are from the Lower Glacier Depôt, probably 18 to 20 m.: and we
have to reduce food again, only one biscuit to-night with a thin hoosh of
pemmican. To-morrow we have to make one day's food which remains last
over the two. The weather became heavily overcast during the afternoon
and then began to snow, and though we got in our 4 hours' march it was
with difficulty, and we only made a bit over 5 miles. However, we are
nearer the depôt to-night."

"
February 16. 12½ m. geog.
Got a good start in fair weather after one
biscuit and a thin breakfast, and made 7½ m. in the forenoon. Again the
weather became overcast and we lunched almost at our old bearing on
Kyffin of lunch Dec. 15. All the afternoon the weather became thick and
thicker and after 3¼ hours Evans collapsed, sick and giddy, and unable to
walk even by the sledge on ski, so we camped. Can see no land at all
anywhere, but we must be getting pretty near the Pillar Rock. Evans'
collapse has much to do with the fact that he has never been sick in his
life and is now helpless with his hands frost-bitten. We had thin meals
for lunch and supper."

"
February 17.
The weather cleared and we got away for a clear run to
the depôt and had gone a good part of the way when Evans found his ski
shoes coming off. He was allowed to readjust and continue to pull, but it
happened again, and then again, so he was told to unhitch, get them
right, and follow on and catch us up. He lagged far behind till lunch,
and when we camped we had lunch, and then went back for him as he had not
come up. He had fallen and had his hands frost-bitten, and we then
returned for the sledge, and brought it, and fetched him in on it as he
was rapidly losing the use of his legs. He was comatose when we got him
into the tent, and he died without recovering consciousness that night
about 10 P.M. We had a short rest for an hour or two in our bags that
night, then had a meal and came on through the pressure ridges about 4
miles farther down and reached our Lower Glacier Depôt. Here we camped at
last, had a good meal and slept a good night's rest which we badly
needed. Our depôt was all right."
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"A very terrible day.... On
discussing the symptoms we think he began to get weaker just before we
reached the Pole, and that his downward path was accelerated first by
the shock of his frost-bitten fingers, and later by falls during rough
travelling on the glacier, further by his loss of all confidence in
himself. Wilson thinks it certain he must have injured his brain by a
fall. It is a terrible thing to lose a companion in this way, but calm
reflection shows that there could not have been a better ending to the
terrible anxieties of the past week. Discussion of the situation at lunch
yesterday shows us what a desperate pass we were in with a sick man on
our hands at such a distance from home."
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This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall, ...
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England,
This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, ...
This land of such dear souls, this dear, dear land.
SHAKESPEARE.

VI. FARTHEST SOUTH

Stevenson has written of a traveller whose wife slumbered by his side
what time his spirit re-adventured forth in memory of days gone by. He
was quite happy about it, and I suppose his travels had been peaceful,
for days and nights such as these men spent coming down the Beardmore
will give you nightmare after nightmare, and wake you shrieking—years
after.

Of course they were shaken and weakened. But the conditions they had
faced, and the time they had been out, do not in my opinion account
entirely for their weakness nor for Evans' collapse, which may have had
something to do with the fact that he was the biggest, heaviest and most
muscular man in the party. I do not believe that this is a life for such
men, who are expected to pull their weight and to support and drive a
larger machine than their companions, and at the same time to eat no
extra food. If, as seems likely, the ration these men were eating was not
enough to support the work they were doing, then it is clear that the
heaviest man will feel the deficiency sooner and more severely than
others who are smaller than he. Evans must have had a most terrible time:
I think it is clear from the diaries that he had suffered very greatly
without complaint. At home he would have been nursed in bed: here he must
march (he was pulling the day he died) until he was crawling on his
frost-bitten hands and knees in the snow—horrible: most horrible perhaps
for those who found him so, and sat in the tent and watched him die. I am
told that simple concussion does not kill as suddenly as this: probably
some clot had moved in his brain.

For one reason and another they took very nearly as long to come down the
glacier with a featherweight sledge as we had taken to go up it with full
loads. Seven days' food were allowed from the Upper to the Lower Glacier
Depôt. Bowers told me that he thought this was running it fine. But the
two supporting parties got through all right, though they both tumbled
into the horrible pressure above the Cloudmaker. The Last Return Party
took 7½ days: the Polar Party 10 days: the latter had been 25½ days
longer on the plateau than the former. Owing to their slow progress down
the glacier the Polar Party went on short rations for the first and last
time until they camped on March 19: with the exception of these days they
had either their full, or more than their full ration until that date.

Until they reached the Barrier on their return journey the weather can be
described neither as abnormal nor as unexpected. There were 300 statute
miles (260 geo.) to be covered to One Ton Depôt, and 150 statute miles
(130 geo.) more from One Ton to Hut Point. They had just picked up one
week's food for five men: between the Beardmore and One Ton were three
more depôts each with one week's food for five men. They were four men:
their way was across the main body of the Barrier out of sight of land,
and away from any immediate influence of the comparatively warm sea ahead
of them. Nothing was known of the weather conditions in the middle of the
Barrier at this time of year, and no one suspected that March conditions
there were very cold. Shackleton turned homeward on January 10: reached
his Bluff Depôt on February 23, and Hut Point on February 28.

Wilson's diary continues:

"
February 18.
We had only five hours' sleep. We had butter and biscuit
and tea when we woke at 2 P.M., then came over the Gap entrance to the
pony-slaughter camp, visiting a rock moraine of Mt. Hope on the way."

"
February 19.
Late in getting away after making up new 10-foot sledge
and digging out pony meat. We made 5½ m. on a very heavy surface
indeed."
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This bad surface is the feature of their first homeward marches on the
Barrier. From now onwards they complain always of the terrible surfaces,
but a certain amount of the heavy pulling must be ascribed to their own
weakness. In the low temperatures which occurred later bad surfaces were
to be expected: but now the temperatures were not really low, about zero
to -17°: fine clear days for the most part and, a thing to be noticed,
little wind. They wanted wind, which would probably be behind them from
the south. "Oh! for a little wind," Scott writes. "E. Evans evidently had
plenty." He was already very anxious. "If this goes on we shall have a
bad time, but I sincerely trust it is only the result of this windless
area close to the coast and that, as we are making steadily outwards, we
shall shortly escape it. It is perhaps premature [Feb. 19] to be anxious
about covering distance. In all other respects things are improving. We
have our sleeping-bags spread on the sledge and they are drying, but,
above all, we have our full measure of food again. To-night we had a sort
of stew fry of pemmican and horseflesh, and voted it the best hoosh we
had ever had on a sledge journey. The absence of poor Evans is a help to
the commissariat, but if he had been here in a fit state we might have
got along faster. I wonder what is in store for us, with some little
alarm at the lateness of the season." And on February 20, when they made
7 miles, "At present our sledge and ski leave deeply ploughed tracks
which can be seen winding for miles behind. It is distressing, but as
usual trials are forgotten when we camp, and good food is our lot. Pray
God we get better travelling as we are not so fit as we were, and the
season is advancing apace." And on February 21, "We never won a march of
8½ miles with greater difficulty, but we can't go on like this."
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