The Worst Journey in the World (27 page)

Back to McMurdo Sound, and the news left at Hut Point. Then the two
ponies which had been allotted to Campbell were swum ashore at Cape
Evans, since he thought that now they would be of more use to Scott than
to himself. Subsequent events proved the extreme usefulness of this
unselfish act. The Terra Nova would steam north and try and land
Campbell's party on the extreme northern shores of Queen Victoria Land.
At the same time there was so little coal left that it might be necessary
to go straight back to New Zealand. Campbell regretted not being able to
see Scott, supposing that the altered circumstances caused Scott to wish
to rearrange his parties, and also because Amundsen had asked Campbell to
land his party at the Bay of Whales, giving him the area to the east to
explore, and Campbell did not wish to accept before getting Scott's
permission.

As we know now coal ran so short that it came to an alternative of
dumping Campbell, his men and gear hastily on the beach at Cape Adare, or
taking them back to New Zealand. As one member of the crew said:
"Exploring is all very well in its way, but it is a thing which can be
very easily overdone." The ship was as ready to get rid of them as they
were to get rid of the ship. They were landed, working to their waists in
the surf, and the ship got safely back to New Zealand.

Scott decided that the period of waiting until the pony party arrived
from One Ton should be employed in sledging stores out to Corner Camp.
But the dog-teams were done, "the dogs are thin as rakes; they are
ravenous and very tired. I feel this should not be, and that it is
evident that they are underfed. The ration must be increased next year
and we must have some properly-thought-out diet. The biscuit alone is not
good enough."
^[117]
In addition, several dogs were feeling the effects of
injuries due to the crevasse incident. There remained the men and the one
pony which had survived out of the three sent back from Bluff Depôt,
namely Jimmy Pigg.

The party started on Friday, February 24, marching by day. It consisted
of Scott, Crean and myself with one sledge and tent, Lieutenant Evans,
Atkinson and Forde with a second sledge and tent, and Keohane leading
James Pigg. On the second night out we saw the pony party pass us in the
distance on their way to Safety Camp. At Corner Camp Scott decided
to leave Lieutenant Evans' party to come in with the pony more slowly,
and himself to push on with Crean and myself at top speed for Safety
Camp. We made a forced march well into the night, doing twenty-six miles
for the day, and camped some ten miles from Safety Camp, where the pony
party must by this time have arrived.

The events which followed were disastrous, and the steps which led to a
catastrophe which entailed the loss of much of our best transport, and
only by a miracle did not lead to the loss of several lives, were
complicated. At this moment, the night of February 26, there were three
parties on the Barrier. Behind Scott was Lieutenant Evans' party and the
pony, James Pigg. Scott himself was camped within easy marching distance
of Safety Camp with Crean and myself. At Safety Camp were the two
dog-teams with Wilson and Meares, while the pony party from One Ton Depôt
had just arrived with five ponies which were for the most part thin,
hungry and worn. Between Safety Camp and Hut Point lay the frozen sea,
which might or might not break up this year, but we knew from our
observations a few days before that the ice was in a shaky condition. At
that time the ice sheet extended some seven miles to the north of Hut
Point. The season was fast closing in: temperatures of fifty or sixty
degrees of frost had been common for the last fortnight, and this was bad
for the ponies. We had been unfortunate in having several severe
blizzards, and it was already clear that it was these autumn blizzards
more than cold temperatures and soft surfaces which the ponies could not
endure. Scott was most anxious to get the animals into such shelter as we
could make for them at Hut Point.

The next morning, February 27, we woke to a regular cold autumn
blizzard—very thick, wind force 9 and temperature about minus twenty.
This was disheartening, and indeed with our six worn ponies still on the
Barrier the outlook for them was discouraging. The blizzard came to an
end the next morning. Scott must take up the first part of that day's
story:

"Packed up at 6 A.M. and marched into Safety Camp. Found every one very
cold and depressed. Wilson and Meares had had continuous bad weather
since we left, Bowers and Oates since their arrival. The blizzard had
raged for two days. The animals looked in a sorry condition, but all were
alive. The wind blew keen and cold from the east. There could be no
advantage in waiting here, and soon all arrangements were made for a
general shift to Hut Point. Packing took a long time. The snowfall had
been prodigious, and parts of the sledges were 3 or 4 feet under drift.
About 4 o'clock the two dog-teams got safely away. Then the pony party
prepared to go. As the cloths were stript from the ponies the ravages of
the blizzard became evident. The animals, without exception, were
terribly emaciated, and Weary Willie was in a pitiable condition.

"The plan was for the ponies to follow the dog tracks, our small party to
start last and get in front of the ponies on the sea-ice. I was very
anxious about the sea-ice passage owing to the spread of the water
holes."
^[118]

The two dog-teams left with Meares and Wilson some time before the
ponies, and for the moment they go out of this story.

Bowers' pony, Uncle Bill, was ready first, and he started with him. We
got three more ponies harnessed, Punch, Nobby and Guts, and tried to
harness Weary Willie, but when we attempted to lead him forward he
immediately fell down.

Scott rapidly reorganized. He sent Crean and me forward with the three
better ponies to join Bowers, now waiting a mile ahead. Oates and Gran he
kept with himself, to try and help the sick pony. His diary tells how "we
made desperate efforts to save the poor creature, got him once more on
his legs, gave him a hot oat mash. Then, after a wait of an hour, Oates
led him off, and we packed the sledge and followed on ski; 500 yards from
the camp the poor creature fell again and I felt it was the last effort.
We camped, built a snow wall round him, and did all we possibly could to
get him on his feet. Every effort was fruitless, though the poor thing
made pitiful struggles. Towards midnight we propped him up as
comfortably as we could and went to bed.

"Wednesday, March 1. A.M. Our pony died in the night. It is hard to have
got him back so far only for this. It is clear that these blizzards are
terrible for the poor animals. Their coats are not good, but even with
the best of coats it is certain they would lose condition badly if caught
in one, and we cannot afford to lose condition at the beginning of a
journey. It makes a late start necessary for next year.

"Well, we have done our best and bought our experience at a heavy cost.
Now every effort must be bent on saving the remaining animals."
^[119]

A letter from Bowers home, which certainly does not overstate the
adventures of himself and the two men sent forward to join him, is
probably the best description of the incidents which followed. It will be
remembered that Crean and I with three ponies were sent from Safety Camp
to join him: he was already leading one pony. Night was beginning to
fall, and the light was bad, but from the edge of the Barrier the two
dog-teams could still be seen as black dots in the distance towards Cape
Armitage.

"On the night of February 28 I led off with my pony and was surprised at
the delay in the others leaving—knowing nothing of Weary's collapse.
Over the edge of the Barrier I went, and at the bottom of the snow
incline awaited the others. To my surprise Cherry and Crean appeared with
Punch, Nobby and Guts in a string, and then I heard the reason for Oates
and Scott not having come on. My orders were to push on to Hut Point over
the sea-ice without delay, and to follow the dogs; previously I had been
told to camp on the sea-ice only in case of the beasts being unable to go
on. We had four pretty heavy sledges, as we were taking six weeks' man
food and oil to the hut, as well as a lot of gear from the depôt, and
pony food, etc. Unfortunately the dogs misunderstood their orders and,
instead of piloting us, dashed off on their own. We saw them like specks
in the distance in the direction of the old seal crack. Having crossed
this they wheeled to the right in the direction of Cape Armitage and
disappeared into a black indefinite mist, which seemed to pervade
everything in that direction. We heard afterwards that in a mile or two
they came to some alarming signs and, turning, made for the Gap where
they got up on to the land about midnight.

"I plugged on in their tracks, till we came to the seal crack which was
an old pressure-ridge running many miles S.W. from Pram Point. We
considered the ice behind this crack—over which we had just come—fast
ice; it was older ice than that beyond, as it had undoubtedly frozen over
first. Having crossed the crack we streaked on for Cape Armitage. The
animals were going badly, owing to the effects of the blizzard, and
frequent stoppages were necessary. On coming to some shaky ice we headed
farther west as there were always some bad places off the cape, and I
thought it better to make a good circuit. Crean, who had been over the
ice recently, told me it was all right farther round. However, about a
mile farther on I began to have misgivings; the cracks became too
frequent to be pleasant, and although the ice was from five to ten feet
thick, one does not like to see water squelching between them, as we did
later. It spells motion, and motion on sea-ice means breakage. I shoved
on in the hope of getting on better ice round the cape, but at last came
a moving crack, and that decided me to turn back. We could see nothing
owing to the black mist, everything looked solid as ever, but I knew
enough to mistrust moving ice, however solid it seemed. It was a beastly
march back: dark, gloomy and depressing. The beasts got more and more
down in their spirits and stopped so frequently that I thought we would
never reach the seal crack. I said to Cherry, however, that I would take
no risks, and camp well over the other side on the old sound ice if we
could get there. This we managed to do eventually. Here there was soft
snow, whereas on the sea side of the crack it was hard: that is the
reason we lost the dogs' tracks at once on crossing. Even over this crack
I thought it best to march as far in as possible. We got well into the
bay, as far as our exhausted ponies would drag, before I camped and
threw up the walls, fed the beasts, and retired to feed ourselves. We had
only the primus with the missing cap and it took over 1½ hours to heat up
the water; however, we had a cup of pemmican. It was very dark, and I
mistook a small bag of curry powder for the cocoa bag, and made cocoa
with that, mixed with sugar; Crean drank his right down before
discovering anything was wrong. It was 2 P.M. before we were ready to
turn in. I went out and saw everything quiet: the mist still hung to the
west, but you could see a good mile and all was still. The sky was very
dark over the Strait though, the unmistakable sign of open water. I
turned in. Two and a half hours later I awoke, hearing a noise. Both my
companions were snoring, I thought it was that and was on the point of
turning in again having seen that it was only 4.30, when I heard the
noise again. I thought—'my pony is at the oats!' and went out.

"I cannot describe either the scene or my feelings. I must leave those to
your imagination. We were in the middle of a floating pack of broken-up
ice. The tops of the hills were visible, but all below was thin mist and
as far as the eye could see there was nothing solid; it was all broken
up, and heaving up and down with the swell. Long black tongues of water
were everywhere. The floe on which we were had split right under our
picketing line, and cut poor Guts' wall in half. Guts himself had gone,
and a dark streak of water alone showed the place where the ice had
opened under him. The two sledges securing the other end of the line were
on the next floe and had been pulled right to the edge. Our camp was on a
floe not more than 30 yards across. I shouted to Cherry and Crean, and
rushed out in my socks to save the two sledges; the two floes were
touching farther on and I dragged them to this place and got them on to
our floe. At that moment our own floe split in two, but we were all
together on one piece. I then got my finnesko on, remarking that we had
been in a few tight places, but this was about the limit. I have been
told since that I was quixotic not to leave everything and make for
safety. You will understand, however, that I never for one moment
considered the abandonment of anything.

"We packed up camp and harnessed up our ponies in remarkably quick time.
When ready to move I had to decide which way to go. Obviously towards
Cape Armitage was impossible, and to the eastward also, as the wind was
from that direction, and we were already floating west towards the open
sound. Our only hope lay to the south, and thither I went. We found the
ponies would jump the intervals well. At least Punch would and the other
two would follow him. My idea was never to separate, but to get
everything on to one floe at a time; and then wait till it touched or
nearly touched another in the right direction, and then jump the ponies
over and drag the four sledges across ourselves. In this way we made
slow, but sure progress. While one was acting all was well, the waiting
for a lead to close was the worst trial. Sometimes it would take 10
minutes or more, but there was so much motion in the ice that sooner or
later bump you would go against another piece, and then it was up and
over. Sometimes they split, sometimes they bounced back so quickly that
only one horse could get over, and then we had to wait again. We had to
make frequent detours and were moving west all the time with the pack,
still we were getting south, too.