  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 "This was found to be the best place, as I had to go my own step. "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, "DEAR CAPTAIN SCOTT,—As you probably are the first to reach this area "Yours truly, Also another note: "The Norwegian Home, Poleheim, is situated in 89 degrees 58 minutes S. (Signed) ROALD AMUNDSEN. "15th December, 1911." The Norwegian Explorers' names recorded at Poleheim were: Roald Amundsen, 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 "Our bags are getting steadily wetter, so are our clothes. "It shows a tendency to clear off now (breakfast time), so, D.V., we "Fortunately we have some depoted there, so I will only have to endure "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. "February 11.—Very heavy surface—ice crystals—movement of upper 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 PUBLICThe 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 SILENCEThe Silence was deep with a breath like sleep |
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