Part 8

The news that Amundsen was safely established reached Scott on 22nd February, and he could not fail to be impressed by it. "One thing only," he wrote characteristically, "fixes itself definitely in my mind. The proper, as well as the wiser, course for us is to proceed exactly as though this had not happened; to go forward and do our best for the honour of the country without fear or panic. There is no doubt that Amundsen's plan is a very serious menace to ours. He has a shorter distance to the Pole by 60 miles. I never thought he could have got so many dogs safely to the ice. But above and beyond all, he can start his journey early in the season--an impossible condition with ponies."* Words that, in the light of future events, are more than ordinarily significant.

* _The Voyages of Captain Scott_ (John Murray), page 259.

Before the winter set in Amundsen determined to deposit food, etc., on the way to the Pole, and on 10th February he set out on his first journey with three men, three sledges, and eighteen dogs.

This first trip upon the Barrier was full of exciting possibilities. Amundsen was without knowledge of the ground over which he had to travel, and he did not know whether the dogs would respond to the demands made upon them, or if his outfit would stand the severe test to which it was to be put. This was essentially a trial trip, and the travellers were naturally anxious that it should be successful. Eighty degrees South was reached, and in every respect save one Amundsen was satisfied with his journey. The only fly in his ointment was that time had been wasted in preparations before the party was ready to start in the mornings. But it was only a small fly, and Amundsen knew that with thought it could easily be removed. The dogs had responded so splendidly to the calls made upon them, that perhaps the most important question of all had been satisfactorily answered.

More depot-laying expeditions followed, and before the winter closed around the explorers, they had placed three tons of supplies at depots in latitudes 80°, 81°, and 82° S. Amundsen and his men could, therefore, settle down for their period of waiting with justifiable hopes that the great spring march to the Pole would end in triumph.

The winter was spent in paying attention to the minutest details of equipment, and the inhabitants of "Framheim" were kept gloriously busy and contented. But with the coming of spring Amundsen began to be impatient to be up and away on his great journey. Temperatures, however, remained very low--somewhere in the neighbourhood of -60° F.--and until they ceased "to grovel in the depths," no start could be made.

With the beginning of September the temperatures began to improve, and Amundsen was determined to start as soon as he possibly could, arguing that he could turn round and come back if he found that he had started too soon. So on 8th September he did set out, and soon discovered that the dogs could not endure the intense cold. On the 11th the temperature was -67.9° F.; on the following day it was -61.6° F., with a breeze dead against the travellers. On reaching the 80° S. depot, Amundsen deposited more stores, and then returned to "Framheim."

More than a month passed before the South Pole party was able to make another start, and it is of interest to note that, whereas Amundsen ultimately got off on 19th October, Scott was unable to start before 1st November.

The South Pole party which set out from "Framheim" consisted of Amundsen, Hanssen, Wisting, Hassel, and Bjaaland, and they were accompanied by fifty-two dogs drawing four sledges. As an illustration of the dangers that lay between the explorers and the Pole, it is enough to say that on the first day's journey a terrible disaster was only avoided by a few inches. In the thick weather they had steered too far to the east, and almost fell into what Amundsen describes as "a yawning black abyss, large enough to have swallowed us all, and a little more."

On the 21st Bjaaland's sledge sank down a crevasse, and had to be unloaded before it could be brought again to the surface. Wisting, with the Alpine rope fastened round him, went down and unloaded the sledge, and when he came up again and was asked if he was not glad to be out of such a position, he replied, "It was nice and warm down there."

It is true that such events are far from unusual in the lives of Polar explorers, but Wisting's answer is worth quoting, because it is typical of the cheerful spirit shown by Amundsen's companions during the whole of the journey. In temperament they were admirably suited for the task that they had undertaken.

With a view to landmarks on the return journey, Amundsen, rightly leaving nothing more to chance than he could help, decided to build snow-beacons. The first beacon was built in 80° 23' S., and altogether 150 beacons were erected, six feet in height.

Up to 82° S. the course had already been travelled by depot-laying parties, but when, on 6th November, they left 82° S. behind them, their journey was absolutely into the unknown. At this time they were marching about 23 miles daily, and at this rate they advanced a degree in three days.

On reaching 83° S., the explorers deposited provisions for five men and twelve dogs for four days, and depots were subsequently made at 84° S., and 85° S. It was from the latter depot that they decided to make what may, without exaggeration, be called their dash for the Pole. From their camp at 85° S., the distance to the Pole and back was 683 miles. After consideration Amundsen determined to take forward provisions, etc., for sixty days on the sledges, and depot the rest of the supplies and outfit.

A weary ascent to the plateau lay before the explorers, and they started upon it on 17th November. Three days later they had reached the plateau, but although they were happy enough in having accomplished a long and dangerous climb, their first camp on the plateau was not one of happy memory.

Grim work had to be done. Amundsen arrived on the plateau with forty-two dogs, but twenty-four of them had to be killed when the plateau was reached. It was a sacrifice that had to be made if the success of the expedition was to be considered; but no one can read Amundsen's account of it without recognizing how bitterly he and his companions regretted the necessity.

This camp, not without reason, was called "The Butcher's Shop," and as both the men and dogs required rest before setting out on the final stages of their march, it had been decided to remain there for two days. The eighteen remaining dogs were divided into three teams, with six dogs in each team, and one sledge was left behind.

But owing to the weather the explorers could not leave this hated "Butcher's Shop" until 25th November, and when they did set out again a blizzard was blowing. So tired, however, were they of waiting in such an inhospitable and gruesome spot, that all of them were eager to quit it--whatever the conditions of the weather might be.

Fog subsequently impeded the party, and again and again Amundsen blessed the assistance that they received from ski. "I am not," he wrote, "giving too much credit to our excellent ski when I say that they not only played a very important part, but possibly the most important of all, on our journey to the South Pole. Many a time we traversed stretches of surface so cleft and disturbed that it would have been an impossibility to get over them on foot."*

* _The South Pole_, Vol. II., page 89.

The 7th December was a great day for the expedition, because during it they passed Shackleton's "farthest south," 88° 23' S. They proceeded for another two miles, and then determined to make their last depot. So important to them was this depot that they not only marked it at right angles to their course, but also by snow beacons at every two miles to the south.

As the explorers approached the Pole, Amundsen, very naturally, was beset by nervousness. "Would he be there first?" was a question that kept on recurring in his mind. There was no cause to worry. Blessed by fine weather, he and his companions reached the South Pole on December 14, 1911, and the five of them together planted the pole from which the Norwegian flag flew. "Thus we plant thee, beloved flag, at the South Pole, and give to the plain on which it lies the name of King Haakon VII.'s Plateau."

On this day Scott was still struggling on his great march to the same destination, which he reached in the third week of January.

The calculations that Amundsen carried out at the South Pole gave its latitude as 89° 56' S.

Amundsen had won the race, and with his victory had revealed one of the great secrets of the world. His success had been gained by strenuous labour, great courage, and infinite care. And if Britons connect Scott's name inseparably with the South Pole, and honour it as that of one of their heroes, they do not for a moment grudge Amundsen the honour due to him as one of the greatest explorers of all time. For Amundsen was the first to discover the South Pole, and no one wishes, or is likely, to forget it.

The Norwegians reached the Pole with seventeen dogs, one of which had to be killed there, and they travelled back with two sledges, a team of eight dogs in each sledge. On his return journey Amundsen was fortunate enough to meet with favourable winds and weather, and the explorers arrived at "Framheim" on January 25, 1912, having travelled 1,860 miles in ninety-nine days. It was a glorious achievement, a great victory over conditions that are scarcely conceivable to any one unacquainted with the Antarctic or Arctic regions.

V

To pass from Amundsen's expedition to Scott's last expedition is to turn from one splendid exploit to another. Scott, as every one knows, was beaten in the actual race for the South Pole. But he and his friends reached their goal, and the tale of their struggle against misfortune after reaching it is one of the finest and most pathetic in the world.

When Scott's intentions to lead another Antarctic expedition were known, no less than eight thousand applicants volunteered to go with him, and among this enormous number were several men whose names will for ever find a place in the history of Polar exploration.

When the _Terra Nova_ sailed from Lyttelton, New Zealand, for the Antarctic regions, on November 29, 1910, she carried both ponies and dogs. Three motor-sledges, one of which was lost in landing, were also taken, and Scott, with his intense dislike for the cruelty inseparably connected with the use of animals for motive power, hoped that these sledges would do much to save the ponies and dogs. Owing to engine trouble these hopes were not realized, but in connection with them Sir Clements Markham has written: "Captain Scott was quite on the right tack, and, with more experience, his idea of Polar motors will hereafter be made feasible, a consummation which was very dear to his heart."*

* _The Lands of Silence_ (John Murray), page 490.

The _Terra Nova_ was by no means as fortunate as the _Discovery_ in making her way to the Antarctic. At the beginning of December she encountered a prolonged and terrific storm, and subsequently she had to fight her passage through some 370 miles of ice. Not until January 3, 1911, did she reach the Barrier, five miles east of Cape Crozier. Here Scott had hoped to make his winter quarters, but owing to the swell no landing could be made, and on the following day he decided to land at Cape Evans, 14 miles north of the _Discovery's_ winter quarters. Strenuous work followed, and in a few days everything necessary had been landed from the ship, the house was soon built, and the explorers were ready to start laying depots in preparation for the march to the Pole.

On his first depot-laying journey Scott was accompanied by eleven men, eight ponies, and twenty-six dogs. He was more than a little doubtful about the dogs, but thought his ponies were bound to be a success. "They work," he wrote, "with such extraordinary steadiness.... The great drawback is the ease with which they sink into soft snow--they struggle pluckily, but it is trying to watch them."

This depot-laying party reached latitude 79° 29' S., and there left over a ton of stores; consequently the name of One Ton Camp was bestowed upon it. On the return journey disasters happened that seriously affected the success of the expedition, for six out of the eight ponies were lost. "Everything out of joint with the loss of our ponies, but mercifully with all the party alive and well," is Scott's comment on this grave misfortune. Ten ponies still remained.

During the winter Wilson, Bowers, and Cherry-Garrard started on June 27, 1911, upon their famous journey to Cape Crozier to visit the Emperor penguin rookery, and they did not return to Cape Evans until 1st August. During these weeks they had to fight against appallingly low temperatures. When, for instance, they started from Cape Evans, their three sleeping-bags weighed 52 lbs., but owing to the ice that had collected upon them these three bags weighed 118 lbs. when the travellers returned. Scott considered that no praise was too high for men who would face such weather during the Polar winter.

With the beginning of August preparations for the great march went on apace, but it was not until 1st November that a start could be made from Cape Evans. Night-marching was decided upon, and the order of marching was at first settled by the speed of the ponies, for some of them were slow, some fairly fast, and some were "fliers." The motors, with E. R. Evans, Day, Lashley, and Hooper with them, had already started, and the dogs, under the control of Meares and Demetri, were to follow behind the last detachment of men and ponies. Very soon, however, the motor-party were in trouble, and this party had to abandon their machines and push on as a man-hauling party.

By 15th November Scott reached One Ton Camp, and fears about the ponies began to take shape. At Camp 19 the explorers were within 150 miles of the Beardmore Glacier, but some of the ponies were beginning to fail, and at the next camp the first of them ("the gallant Jehu") had to be shot. From this camp it was arranged that Day and Hooper should turn back.

At Camp 22 the Middle Barrier depot was made in latitude 81° 35', and then for some days the march was impeded by extraordinarily foul weather. Scott's desire was to take the ponies as far as the entrance to the Beardmore Glacier; but although, on 29th November, at Camp 5, they were only 70 miles from what he calls his "pony-goal," some of the willing animals were very tired.

At Camp 29 six ponies were still left out of the ten which had started, but although the chances of getting through successfully to the glacier were good, the weather still remained as obstructive as possible.

On 5th December a terrific fall of snow added to the anxieties of the explorers, who found themselves within 12 miles of the glacier, but hopelessly held up by such a violent and unexpected storm. It was natural enough for Scott to be anxious, for on 7th December the food that he had hoped only to use after the glacier was reached had to be begun on. Two days later, however, by marching under terrible conditions, the entrance to the glacier was gained, and then at Camp 31, which was called Shambles Camp, the last of the ponies were killed.

On 9th December, Wilson wrote: "Nobby [Wilson's special pony] had all my biscuits last night and this morning, and by the time we camped I was just ravenously hungry. Thank God the horses are now all done with, and we begin the heavy work ourselves."

At Camp 32 the Lower Glacier depot was built, and soon afterwards Meares and Demetri, with the dogs, turned back for home. At this time the parties were made up of--

Sledge 1. Scott, Wilson, Gates, and P. O. Evans.

Sledge 2. E. Evans, Atkinson, Wright, and Lashley.

Sledge 3. Bowers, Cherry-Garrard, Crean, and Keohane.

But by 21st December, in latitude 85° S., Scott had to send back four of these men, and Atkinson, Wright, Cherry-Garrard, and Keohane returned. The Upper Glacier depot was made, and the returning men took back a letter from Scott in which he wrote: "So here we are practically on the summit, and up to date in the provision line. We ought to get through."

On New Year's Day, 1912, the party were within 170 miles of the Pole. Three Degree depot was made. Then in latitude 87° 32' S., Scott was compelled to send back E. B. Evans, Crean, and Lashley. When all of the men were so anxious to go on it was hard to have to part with any of them; but questions of food made it absolutely necessary that some of the party should return.

The ages of the five men who marched on to the Pole were: Scott, forty-three years old; Wilson, thirty-nine; P. O. Evans, thirty-seven; Gates, thirty-two; and Bowers, twenty-eight. Again and again Scott expressed his admiration of his four companions: Wilson, "never wavering from start to finish"; Evans, "a giant worker"; Bowers, "a marvel--he is thoroughly enjoying himself"; Gates, "goes hard all the time."

With such men Scott felt confident, in spite of terrible surfaces, of reaching the Pole. But as he approached it, fears that Amundsen had already arrived were constantly besetting him; and on 16th January, when within a few miles of the longed-for goal, there was no longer any doubt that the Norwegian party had won the race. Sledge and ski tracks and the traces of dogs were all too evident.

Faced by such a grievous blow, not one of Scott's party could sleep that night, but on the day following they marched on some 14 miles and reached the Pole. "The Pole," Scott wrote, "yes, but under very different circumstances from those expected."

It is impossible to conceive a greater blow, and when it is remembered that Scott and his four companions were already fatigued--if not completely exhausted--by their tremendous labours, it is easy to realize how heavily the disappointment hung on their minds. Nevertheless they had set out to reach the Pole, and they had reached it. All honour is due to them; and the fact that Amundsen had preceded them in no way diminished the glory of their achievement.

The altitude of the Pole, as estimated by Scott, is about 9,500 feet. A cairn was built, and the Union Jack hoisted. And then on Thursday, 18th January, they turned their backs upon their goal, and began the long march that separated them from Cape Evans. Anxiety about food began at once--not until Three Degree depot was reached could it be lessened; and very soon anxiety at Evans's condition was added to the danger of the scarcity of food.

On Wednesday, 31st January, the weary travellers reached the Three Degree depot, but by this time Evans had dislodged two finger-nails, and his general condition was very bad. Their next objective was the Upper Glacier depot, and on Monday night, 5th February, they were within from 25 to 30 miles of it; but so critical had the health of Evans become that Scott was desperately eager to get off the plateau. "Things," he wrote, "may mend for him [Evans] on the glacier, and his wounds get some respite under warmer conditions."

On the evening of 7th February they reached the Upper Glacier depot, and then, after turning aside to collect geological specimens (which proved to be most valuable), they met with terrible surfaces and weather. On 14th February, with 30 miles still to go before the Lower Glacier depot was reached, Scott's anxiety about the condition of the party was acute. Indeed, poor Evans had almost reached the limit of human endurance, and during the night of 17th February he became unconscious, and died quietly at 12.30 a.m.

It was a terrible experience for men, already supremely fatigued both in mind and body, to meet, and it was a sorrowful party which, on Sunday afternoon, arrived at Shambles Camp. There horse meat in plenty awaited them, and this gave them the renewal of strength that was sadly needed. For the moment the prospects of the explorers looked a little more hopeful, but from this point of their march they began to suffer from a lack of oil. When, at length, they succeeded in arriving at the Middle Barrier depot, on 2nd March, they found so little oil that it was scarcely enough, however economically used, to carry them on to the next depot, which was 71 miles distant. Another irretrievable disaster was the fact that Oates's feet were very badly frost-bitten. On 4th March, Scott wrote: "I don't know what I should do if Wilson and Bowers weren't so determinedly cheerful over things." And in all truth the position had become desperate. On the 7th, when still 16 miles short of Mount Hooper depot, Oates, though wonderfully brave, was in terrible pain. During the next day they arrived at Mount Hooper, but the shortage of oil was not relieved.

Over 70 miles separated the exhausted travellers from One Ton Camp, and they struggled onwards with death staring them ever nearer and nearer in the face. With no helping wind, and bad surfaces, they could not advance more than six miles a day, and on the night of the 11th, Scott reckoned up the situation in these words: "We have seven days' food, and should be about 55 miles from One Ton Camp to-night; 6x7=42, leaving us 13 miles short of our distance, even if things get no worse."

Unhappily, instead of any improvement in the situation, misfortunes became more and more plentiful. It was obvious that Oates was near the end, and on the morning of the 15th or 16th, when the blizzard was blowing, he walked out of the tent. "I am just going outside, and may be some time," were the last words he spoke to his companions in distress. "We knew," said Scott, who still continued to write his journal, "that poor Oates was walking to his death ... it was the act of a brave man and an English gentleman."

Oates sacrificed himself in the hope of helping the others, and no brave man ever performed a braver act. But his sacrifice was of no avail. Fortune had declared too strong a hand against the explorers for them to be able to resist it.

By midday on 18th March, Scott, Wilson, and Bowers had struggled on to within 21 miles of One Ton depot, and during the afternoon of the following day they managed to advance another 10 miles. And then they made what was destined to be their last camp. The men themselves were in a pitiable condition, and blizzard following blizzard, they were utterly unable to march a step farther.

On 29th March, Scott wrote: "Since the 21st we have had a continuous gale from W.S.W. and S.W. We had fuel to make two cups of tea apiece, and bare food for two days on the 20th. Every day we have been ready to start for our depot, _eleven miles_ away, but outside the door of the tent it remains a scene of whirling drift.... We shall stick it out to the end, but we are getting weaker, of course, and the end cannot be far. It seems a pity, but I do not think I can write more." And then follows those pathetic words: "Last entry. For God's sake, look after our people."

It was not until 30th October that Atkinson, on whom the leadership of the expedition had fallen, was able to take out a search party. And nearly a fortnight later the bodies of these three friends and explorers were found.

No more fitting words could be found with which to conclude this chapter of great deeds than those which were left in the metal cylinder on the grave of these heroes:--