big glacier next the Keltie Glacier to the east, and so we altered course
for a small bluff point about two-thirds of the way along the base of the
Cloudmaker. We were to camp at 6, but did not do so until about 6.30, the
last 11/2 hours in big pressure, crossing big and smaller waves, and
hundreds of crevasses which one of us generally found. We are now camped
in very big pressure, and with difficulty we found a patch big enough to
pitch the tent free from crevasses. We are pretty well past the Keltie
Glacier which is a vast tumbled mass: there is a long line of ice falls
ahead, and I think there is a hard day ahead of us to-morrow among
that pressure which must be enormous. We can't go farther inshore here,
being under the north end of the Cloudmaker, and a fine mountain it is,
rising precipitously above us.[232]

"Sunday, December 17. Nearly 11 miles. Temp. 12.5 deg.. 3500 feet. We have
had an exciting day--this morning was just like the scenic railway at
Earl's Court. We got straight on to the big pressure waves, and headed
for the humpy rock at the base of the Cloudmaker. It was a hard plug up
the waves, very often standing pulls, and all that we could do for a
course was a very varied direction. Going down the other side was the
exciting part: all we could do was to set the sledge straight, hang on to
the straps, give her a little push and rush down the slope, which was
sometimes so sheer that the sledge was in the air. Sometimes there was no
chance to brake the sledge, and we all had to get on to the top, and we
rushed down with the wind whistling in our ears. After three hours of
this it levelled out again a bit, and we took the top of a wave, and ran
south along it on blue ice: enormous pressure to our right, largely I
think caused by the Keltie Glacier. Then we ascended a rise, snowy and
crevassed, and camped after doing just under five miles, with big
pressure ahead."[233]

"In the afternoon we had a hard surface. Scott started off at a great
speed, Teddy [Evans] and I following. There was something wrong with my
team or my sledge, as we had a desperate job to keep up at first. We did
keep up all right, but were heartily glad when after about 21/2 hours Scott
stopped for a spell. I rearranged our harness, putting Cherry and myself
on the long span again, which we had temporarily discarded in the
morning. We were both winded and felt wronged. The rearrangement was a
success however, and the remainder of the march was a pleasure instead of
a desperate struggle. It finished up on fields of blue rippled ice with
sharp knife edges, and snow patches few and far between. We are all
camped on a small snow patch in the middle of a pale blue rippled sea,
about 3600 feet above sea level and past the Cloudmaker, which means
that we are half way up the Glacier."[234] We had done 121/2 miles
(statute).

The Beardmore Glacier is twice as large as the Malaspina in Alaska, which
was the largest known glacier until Shackleton discovered the Beardmore.
Those who knew the Ferrar Glacier professed to find the Beardmore
unattractive, but to me at any rate it was grand. Its very vastness,
however, tends to dwarf its surroundings, and great tributary glaciers
and tumbled ice-falls, which anywhere else would have aroused admiration,
were almost unnoticed in a stream which stretched in places forty miles
from bank to bank. It was only when the theodolite was levelled that we
realized how vast were the mountains which surrounded us: one of which we
reckoned to be well over twenty thousand feet in height, and many of the
others must have approached that measurement. Lieutenant Evans and Bowers
were surveying whenever the opportunity offered, whilst Wilson sat on the
sledge or on his sleeping-bag, and sketched.

Before leaving on the morning of December 18 we bagged off three
half-weekly units and made a depot marked by a red flag on a bamboo which
was stuck into a small mound. Unfortunately it began to snow in the night
and no bearings were taken until the following morning when only the base
of the mountains on the west side was visible. We knew we might have
difficulty in picking up this depot again, and certainly we all did.

"It was thick, with low stratus clouds in the morning, and snow was
falling in large crystals. Our socks and finnesko, hung out to dry, were
covered with most beautiful feathery crystals. In the warm weather one
gets fairly saturated with perspiration on the march, and foot-gear is
always wet, except the outside covering which is as a rule more or less
frozen according to existing temperature. On camping at night I shift to
night foot-gear as soon as ever the tent is pitched, and generally slip
on my windproof blouse, as one cools down like smoke after the exertion
of man-hauling a heavy sledge for hours. At lunch camp one's feet often
get pretty cold, but this goes off as soon as some hot tea is got into
the system. As a rule, even when snowing, one's socks, etc., will dry if
there is a bit of a breeze. They are always frozen stiff in the morning
and can best be thawed out by bundling the lot [under one's] jersey
during breakfast. They can then be put on tolerably warm even if wet.

"We started off on a hard rippled blue surface like a sea frozen intact
while the wind was playing on it. It soon got worse and we had to have
one and sometimes two hands back to keep the sledge from skidding. Of
course it was easy enough stuff to pull on, but the ground was very
uneven, and sledges constantly capsized. It did not improve the runners
either. There were few crevasses.

"All day we went on in dull cloudy weather with hardly any land visible,
and the glacier to be seen only for a short distance. In the afternoon
the clouds lifted somewhat and showed us the Adam Mountains. The surface
was better for the sledges but worse for us, as there were countless
cracks and small crevasses, into which we constantly trod, barking our
shins. As the afternoon sun came round the perspiration fairly streamed
down, and it was impossible to keep goggles clear. The surface was so
slippery and uneven that it was difficult to keep one's foothold. However
we did 121/2 miles, and felt that we had really done a good day's work when
we camped. It was not clear enough to survey in the evening, so I took
the sledge-meter in hand and worked at it half the night to repair
Christopher's damage.[235] I ended up by making a fixing of which I was
very proud, but did not dare to look at the time, so I don't know how
much sleep I missed.

"There is no doubt that Scott knows where to aim for in a glacier, as it
was just here that Shackleton had two or three of his worst days' work,
in such a maze of crevasses that he said that often a slip meant death
for the whole party. He avoids the sides of the glacier and goes nowhere
near the snow: he often heads straight for apparent chaos and somehow,
when we appear to have reached a cul-de-sac, we find it an open
road."[236] However, we all found the trouble on our way back.

"On our right we have now a pretty good view of the Adam, Marshall and
Wild Mountains, and their very curious horizontal stratification. Wright
has found, amongst bits of wind-blown debris, an undoubted bit of
sandstone and a bit of black basalt. We must get to know more of the
geology before leaving the glacier finally."[237]

December 19, +7 deg.. Total height 5800 feet. "Things are certainly looking
up, seeing that we have risen 1100 feet, and marched 17 to 18 statute
miles during the day, whereas Shackleton's last march was 13 statute. It
was still thick when we turned out at 5.45, but it soon cleared with a
fresh southerly wind, and we could see Buckley Island and the land at the
head of the glacier just rising. We started late for Birdie wanted to get
our sledge-meter dished up: it has been quite a job to-day getting it on,
but it rode well this afternoon. We started over the same crevassed
stuff, but soon got on to blue ice, and for two hours had a most pleasant
pull, and then up a steepish rise sometimes on blue ice and sometimes on
snow. After the pleasantest morning we have had, we completed 81/2 miles.

[Illustration: FROM MOUNT DEAKIN TO MOUNT KINSEY--E. A. Wilson, del.
Emery Walker Limited, Collotypers.]

"Angles and observations were taken at lunch, and quite a lot of work was
done. There is a general getting squared up with gear, for we know that
those going on will not have many more days of warm temperatures. At one
time to-day I think Scott meant trying the right hand of the island or
nunatak, but as we rose this was obviously impossible, for there is a
huge mass of pressure coming down there. From here the Dominion Range
also looks as if it were a nunatak. Some of these mountains, which don't
look very big, are huge (since the six thousand feet which we have risen
have to be added on to them), and many of them are very grand indeed. The
Mill Glacier is a vast thing, with big pressure across it. There also
seems to be a big series of ice-falls between Buckley Island and the
Dominion Range, for the centre of which Scott is going to-morrow. A
pretty hard plug this afternoon, but no disturbance, and gradually we
have left the bare ice, and are mostly travelling on _neve_. Much of the
ice is white. I have been writing down angles and times for Birdie, and
writing this in the intervals. Scott's heel is troubling him again. ['I
have bad bruises on knee and thigh'],[238] and generally there has been a
run on the medical cases for chafes, and minor ailments. There is now a
keen southerly wind blowing. It gets a little colder each day, and we are
already beginning to feel it on our sunburnt faces and hands."[239]

Of the crevasses met in the morning Bowers wrote: "So far nobody has
dropped down the length of his harness, as I did on the Cape Crozier
journey. On this blue ice they are pretty conspicuous, and as they are
mostly snow-bridged one is well advised to step over any line of snow.
With my short legs this was strenuous work, especially as the weight of
the sledge would often stop me with a jerk just before my leading foot
quite cleared a crevasse, and the next minute one would be struggling out
so as to keep the sledge on the move. It is fatal to stop the sledge as
nobody waits for stragglers, and you have to pick up your lost ground by
strenuous hurry. Of course some one often gets so far down a hole that it
is necessary to stop and help him out."

December 20. "To-day has been a great march--over two miles an hour, and
on the whole rising a lot. Soon after starting we got on to the most
beautiful icy surface, smooth except for cracks and only patches of snow,
most of which we could avoid. We came along at a great rate.

"The most interesting thing to see was that the Mill Glacier is not, as
was supposed, a tributary, but probably is an outlet falling from this
glacier, and a great size. However it was soon covered up with dense
black cloud, and there were billows of cloud behind us and below.

"At lunch Birdie made the disastrous discovery that the registering dial
of his sledge-meter was off. A screw had shaken out on the bumpy ice,
and the clockwork had fallen off. This is serious for it means that one
of the three returning parties will have to go without, and their
navigation will be much more difficult. Birdie is very upset, especially
after all the trouble he has taken with it, and the hours which he has
sat up. After lunch he and Bill walked back near two miles in the tracks,
but could not see it. It was then getting very thick, coming over from
the north."[240] "It appeared to be blizzing down the glacier, though
clear to the south. The northerly wind drove up a back-draught of snow,
and very soon fogged us completely. However we found our way back to camp
by the crampon tracks on the blue ice and then packed up to leave."[241]

"We started, making a course to hit the east side of the island where
there seems to be the only break in the ice-falls which stretch right
across. The weather lifted, and we are now camped with the island just to
our right, the long strata of coal showing plainly in it, and just in
front of us is this steep bit up through the falls. We have done nearly
23 statute miles to-day, pulling 160 lbs. a man.

"This evening has been rather a shock. As I was getting my finnesko on to
the top of my ski beyond the tent Scott came up to me, and said that he
was afraid he had rather a blow for me. Of course I knew what he was
going to say, but could hardly grasp that I was going back--to-morrow
night. The returning party is to be Atch, Silas, Keohane and self.

[Illustration: NIGHT CAMP. BUCKLEY ISLAND--December 20, 1911]

"Scott was very put about, said he had been thinking a lot about it but
had come to the conclusion that the seamen with their special knowledge,
would be needed: to rebuild the sledge, I suppose. Wilson told me it was
a toss-up whether Titus or I should go on: that being so I think Titus
will help him more than I can. I said all I could think of--he seemed so
cut up about it, saying 'I think, somehow, it is specially hard on you.'
I said I hoped I had not disappointed him, and he caught hold of me and
said 'No--no--No,' so if that is the case all is well. He told me that at
the bottom of the glacier he was hardly expecting to go on himself: I
don't know what the trouble is, but his foot is troubling him, and also,
I think, indigestion."[242]

Scott just says in his diary, "I dreaded this necessity of
choosing--nothing could be more heartrending." And then he goes on to sum
up the situation, "I calculated our programme to start from 85 deg. 10' with
12 units of food and eight men. We ought to be in this position to-morrow
night, less one day's food. After all our harassing trouble one cannot
but be satisfied with such a prospect."[243]

December 21. Upper Glacier Depot. "Started off with a nippy S.Wly. wind
in our faces, but bright sunshine. One's nose and lips being chapped and
much skinned with alternate heat and cold, a breeze in the face is
absolute agony until you warm up. This does not take long, however, when
pulling a sledge, so after the first quarter of an hour more or less one
is comfortable unless the wind is very strong.

"We made towards the only place where it seemed possible to cross the
mass of pressure ice caused by the junction of the plateau with the
glacier, and congested between the nunatak [Buckley Island] and the
Dominion Range. Scott had considered at one time going up to westward of
the nunatak, but this appeared more chaotic than the other side. We made
for a slope close to the end of the island or nunatak, where Shackleton
must have got up also; it is obviously the only place when you look at it
from a commanding rise. We did not go quite so close to the land as
Shackleton did, and therefore, as had been the case with us all the way
up the glacier, found less difficulties than he met with. Scott is quite
wonderful in his selections of route, as we have escaped excessive
dangers and difficulties all along. In this case we had fairly good
going, but got into a perfect mass of crevasses into which we all
continually fell; mostly one foot, but often two, and occasionally we
went down altogether, some to the length of their harness to be hauled
out with the Alpine rope. Most of them could be seen by the strip of snow
on the blue ice. They were often too wide to jump though, and the only
thing was to plant your feet on the bridge and try not to tread heavily.
As a rule the centre of a bridged crevasse is the safest place, the
rotten places are at the edges. We had to go over dozens by hopping right
on to the bridge and then over on to the ice. It is a bit of a jar when
it gives way under you, but the friendly harness is made to trust one's
life to. The Lord only knows how deep these vast chasms go down, they
seem to extend into blue black nothingness thousands of feet below.

"Before reaching the rise we had to go up and down many steep slopes, and
on the one side the sledges were overrunning us, and on the other it
fairly took the juice out of you to reach the top. We saw the
stratification on the nunatak which Shackleton supposed to be coal: there
was also much sandstone and red granite. I should like to have scratched
round these rocks: we may get a chance on our return journey. As we
topped each rise we found another one beyond it, and so on.

"About noon some clouds settled in a fog round us, and being fairly in a
trough of crevasses we could not get on. Fortunately we found a snow
patch to pitch the tents on, but even there were crevasses under us.
However, we enjoyed a hearty lunch, and I improved the shining hour by
preparing my rations for the Upper Glacier Depot.

"At 3 P.M. it cleared, and Mount Darwin, a nunatak to the S.W. of the
others, could be seen. This we made for, and some two miles on exchanged
blue ice for the new snow which was much harder pulling. Scott was fairly
wound up, and he went on and on. Every rise topped seemed to fire him
with a desire to top the next, and every rise had another beyond and
above it. We camped at 8 P.M., all pretty weary, having come up nearly
1500 feet, and done over eleven miles in a S.W. direction. We were south
of Mount Darwin in 85 deg. 7' S., and our corrected altitude proved to be
7000 feet above the Barrier. I worked up till a very late hour getting
the depot stores ready, and also weighing out and arranging allowances
for the returning party, and arranging the stores and distribution of
weights of the two parties going on. The temperature was down to zero
to-day, the lowest it has been for some time this summer weather."[244]

"There is a very mournful air to-night--those going on and those turning
back. Bill came in while I was cooking, to say good-bye. He told me he
fully expected to come back with the next party: that he could see Scott
was going to take on the strongest fellows, perhaps three seamen. It
would be a great disappointment if Bill did not go on."[245]

We gave away any gear which we could spare to those going on, and I find
the following in my diary:

"I have been trying to give away my spare gear where it may be most
acceptable: finnesko to Birdie, pyjama trousers to Bill, and a bag of
baccy for Bill to give Scott on Christmas Day, some baccy to Titus,
jaeger socks and half my scarf to Crean, and a bit of handkerchief to
Birdie. Very tired to-night."

Scott wrote: "We are struggling on, considering all things against odds.
The weather is a constant anxiety, otherwise arrangements are working
exactly as planned.

"Here we are practically on the summit and up to date in the provision
line. We ought to get through."[246]

FOOTNOTES:

[221] My own diary.

[222] My own diary.

[223] Bowers.

[224] Scott.

[225] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 497.

[226] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 499.

[227] Bowers.

[228] My own diary.

[229] Ibid.

[230] Bowers.

[231] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 506.

[232] My own diary.

[233] Ibid.

[234] Bowers.

[235] See p. 332.

[236] Bowers.

[237] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 509.

[238] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 510.

[239] My own diary.

[240] My own diary.

[241] Bowers.

[242] My own diary.

[243] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 511-512.

[244] Bowers.

[245] My own diary.

[246] _Scott's Last Expedition_, vol. i. p. 513.




CHAPTER XI

THE POLAR JOURNEY (_continued_)

People, perhaps, still exist who believe that it is of no
importance to explore the unknown polar regions. This, of course,
shows ignorance. It is hardly necessary to mention here of what
scientific importance it is that these regions should be
thoroughly explored. The history of the human race is a continual
struggle from darkness towards light. It is, therefore, to no
purpose to discuss the use of knowledge; man wants to know, and
when he ceases to do so, he is no longer man.--NANSEN.

III. THE PLATEAU FROM MOUNT DARWIN TO LAT. 87 deg. 32' S.


_First Sledge_                        _Second Sledge_
SCOTT                                  LIEUT. EVANS
WILSON                                 BOWERS
OATES                                  LASHLY
SEAMAN EVANS                           CREAN

For the first week on the plateau Bowers wrote a full diary, which I give
below. After December 28 there are little more than fragmentary notes
until January 19, the day the party started to return from the Pole. From
then until January 25, he wrote fully; nothing after that until January
29, followed by more fragments to "February 3rd (I suppose)." That is the
last entry he made.

But this is not surprising, even in a man of Bowers' energy. The time a
man can give to writing under such conditions is limited, and Bowers had
a great deal of it to do before he could think of a diary--the
meteorological log; sights for position as well as rating sights for
time; and all the routine work of weights, provisions and depots. He
wrote no diary at the Pole, but he made a very full meteorological report
while there in addition to working out sights. The wonder is that he kept
a diary at all.

*       *       *       *       *

_From Bowers' Diary_

December 22. _Midsummer Day._ We have had a brilliant day with a
temperature about zero and no wind, altogether charming conditions. I
rigged up the Upper Glacier Depot after breakfast. We depoted two
half-weekly units for return of the two parties, also all crampons and
glacier gear, such as ice-axes, crowbar, spare Alpine rope, etc.,
personal gear, medical, and in fact everything we could dispense with. I
left my old finnesko, wind trousers and some other spare gear in a bag
for going back.

The two advance parties' weights amounted to 190 lbs. per man. They
consisted of the permanent weights, twelve weeks' food and oil, spare
sledge runners, etc. We said good-bye and sent back messages and photo
films with the First Returning Party, which consisted of Atch, Cherry,
Silas and Keohane. It was quite touching saying farewell to our good
pals--they wished us luck, and Cherry, Atch and Silas quite overwhelmed
me.

We went forward, the Owner's team as before consisting of Dr. Bill, Titus
and [Seaman] Evans, and [Lieut.] Teddy Evans and Lashly coming over to my
sledge and tent to join up with Crean and myself. We all left the depot
cairn marked with two spare 10-feet sledge runners and a large black flag
on one. Our morning march was not so long as usual owing to making up the
depot, but we did five miles uphill, hauling our heavier loads more
easily than the lighter ones yesterday. A fall in the temperature had
improved the surface. We had also sandpapered our runners after the
tearing up they had had on the glacier; this made a tremendous
difference. The afternoon march brought our total up to 10.6 miles for
the day on a S.W. course.

We are steering S.W. with a view to avoiding ice-falls which Shackleton
met with. We came across very few crevasses; the few we found were as
broad as a street, and crossing them the whole party, sledge and all,
would be on the bridge at once. They only gave way at the edges, and we
did nothing worse than put our feet through now and then. The surface is
all snow now, neve and hard sastrugi, which seem to point to a strong
prevalent S.S.E. wind here.

We are well clear of the land now, and it is a beautiful evening. I have
just taken six photographs of the Dominion Range. We can see many new
mountains. Our position by observation is 85 deg. 13' 29" S., 161 deg. 54' 45"
E., variation being 175 deg. 45'.

December 23. Turned out at usual time, 5.45 A.M. I am cook this week in
our tent. After breakfast built two cairns to mark spot and shoved off at
quarter to eight.

We started up a big slope on a S.W. course to avoid the pressure which
lay across our track to the southward. It was a pretty useful slog up the
rise, at one time it seemed as if we would never top the slope. We
stopped for five minutes to look round after 21/2 hours' hard plugging and
about 11/2 hours later reached the top, from which we could see the distant
mountains which have so recently been our companions. They are beginning
to look pretty magnificent. The top of the great pressure ridge was
running roughly S.E. and N.W.: it was one of a succession of ridges which
probably cover an area of fifty or sixty square miles. In this
neighbourhood Shackleton met them almost to 861/2 deg. south. At the top of the
ridge were vast crevasses into which we could have dropped the Terra Nova
easily. The bridges were firm, however, except at the sides, though we
had frequent stumbles into the conservatory roof, so to speak. The
sledges were rushed over them without mishap. We had to head farther west
to clear disturbances, and at one time were going W.N.W.

At lunch camp we had done 81/2 miles, and in the afternoon we completed
fifteen on a S.W. course over improved ground. Our routine is to actually
haul our sledges for nine hours a day; five in the morning, 7.15 A.M.
till 1 P.M.; and four in the afternoon, 2.30 P.M.-6.30 P.M. We turn out
at 5.45 A.M. just now. The loads are still pretty heavy, but the surface
is remarkably good considering all things. One gets pretty weary towards
the end of the day; all my muscles have had their turn at being
[stiffened] up. These hills are giving my back ones a reminder, but they
will ache less to-morrow and finally cease to do so, as is the case with
legs, etc., which had their turn first.

December 24. _Christmas Eve._ We started off heading due south this
morning, as we are many miles to the westward of Shackleton's course and
should if anywhere be clear of the ice-falls and pressure. Of course no
mortals having been here, one can only conjecture; as a matter of fact,
we found later in the day that we were not clear by any means, and had to
do a bit of dodging about to avoid disturbances, as well as mount vast
ridges with the tops of them a chaos of crevasses. The tops are pretty
hard ice-snow, over which the sledges run easily; it is quite a holiday
after slogging up the slopes on the softer surface with our heavy loads,
which amount to over 190 lbs. per man.

We mark our night camp by two cairns and our lunch camp by single ones.
It is doubtful, however, among these ridges, if we will ever pick them up
again, and it does not really matter, as we have excellent land for the
Upper Glacier Depot. We completed fourteen miles and turned in as usual
pretty tired.

December 25. _Christmas Day._ A strange and strenuous Christmas for me,
with plenty of snow to look at and very little else. The breeze that had
blown in our faces all yesterday blew more freshly to-day, with surface
drift. It fairly nipped one's nose and face starting off--until one got
warmed up. We had to pull in wind blouses, as though one's body kept warm
enough on the march the arms got numbed with the penetrating wind no
matter how vigorously they were swung. Another thing is that one cannot
stop the team on the march to get clothes on and off, so it is better to
go the whole hog and be too hot than cause delays. We had the addition of
a little pony meat for breakfast to celebrate the day. I am the cook of
our tent this week.

We steered south again and struck our friends the crevasses and climbed
ridges again. About the middle of the morning we were all falling in
continually, but Lashly in my team had the worst drop. He fell to the
length of his harness and the trace. I was glad that having noticed his
rope rather worn, I had given him a new one a few days before. He jerked
Crean and me off our feet backwards, and Crean's harness being jammed
under the sledge, which was half across an eight-feet bridge, he could do
nothing. I was a little afraid of sledge and all going down, but
fortunately the crevasse ran diagonally. We could not see Lashly, for a
great overhanging piece of ice was over him. Teddy Evans and I cleared
Crean and we all three got Lashly up with the Alpine rope cut into the
snow sides which overhung the hole. We then got the sledge into safety.

To-day is Lashly's birthday; he is married and has a family; is 44 years
of age, and due for his pension from the service. He is as strong as most
and is an undefeated old sportsman. Being a chief stoker, R.N., his
original job was charge of one of the ill-fated motor sledges.

[The following is Lashly's own account:

"Christmas Day and a good one. We have done 15 miles over a very changing
surface. First of all it was very much crevassed and pretty rotten; we
were often in difficulties as to which way we should tackle it. I had the
misfortune to drop clean through, but was stopped with a jerk when at the
end of my harness. It was not of course a very nice sensation, especially
on Christmas Day, and being my birthday as well. While spinning round in
space like I was it took me a few seconds to gather together my thoughts
and see what kind of a place I was in. It certainly was not a fairy's
place. When I had collected myself I heard some one calling from above,
'Are you all right, Lashly?' I was all right it is true, but I did not
care to be dangling in the air on a piece of rope, especially when I
looked round and saw what kind of a place it was. It seemed about 50 feet
deep and 8 feet wide, and 120 feet long. This information I had ample
time to gain while dangling there. I could measure the width with my ski
sticks, as I had them on my wrists. It seemed a long time before I saw
the rope come down alongside me with a bowline in it for me to put my
foot in and get dragged out. It was not a job I should care to have to go
through often, as by being in the crevasse I had got cold and a bit
frost-bitten on the hands and face, which made it more difficult for me
to help myself. Anyhow Mr. Evans, Bowers and Crean hauled me out and
Crean wished me many happy returns of the day, and of course I thanked
him politely and the others laughed, but all were pleased I was not hurt
bar a bit of a shake. It was funny although they called to the other team
to stop they did not hear, but went trudging on and did not know until
they looked round just in time to see me arrive on top again. They then
waited for us to come up with them. The Captain asked if I was all right
and could go on again, which I could honestly say 'Yes' to, and at night
when we stopped for dinner I felt I could do two dinners in. Anyhow we
had a pretty good tuck-in. Dinner consisted of pemmican, biscuits,
chocolate eclair, pony meat, plum pudding and crystallized ginger and
four caramels each. We none of us could hardly move."[247]]

We had done over eight miles at lunch. I had managed to scrape together
from the Barrier rations enough extra food to allow us a stick of
chocolate each for lunch, with two spoonfuls of raisins each in our tea.
In the afternoon we got clear of crevasses pretty soon, but towards the
end of the afternoon Captain Scott got fairly wound up and went on and
on. The breeze died down and my breath kept fogging my glasses, and our
windproofs got oppressively warm and altogether things were pretty
rotten. At last he stopped and we found we had done 143/4 miles. He said,
"What about fifteen miles for Christmas Day?" so we gladly went
on--anything definite is better than indefinite trudging.

We had a great feed which I had kept hidden and out of the official
weights since our departure from Winter Quarters. It consisted of a good
fat hoosh with pony meat and ground biscuit; a chocolate hoosh made of
water, cocoa, sugar, biscuit, raisins, and thickened with a spoonful of
arrowroot. (This is the most satisfying stuff imaginable.) Then came 21/2
square inches of plum-duff each, and a good mug of cocoa washed down the
whole. In addition to this we had four caramels each and four squares of
crystallized ginger. I positively could not eat all mine, and turned in
feeling as if I had made a beast of myself. I wrote up my journal--in
fact I should have liked somebody to put me to bed.

December 26. We have seen many new ranges of mountains extending to the
S.E. of the Dominion Range. They are very distant, however, and must
evidently be the top of those bounding the Barrier. They could only be
seen from the tops of the ridges as waves up which we are continually
mounting. Our height yesterday morning by hypsometer was 8000 feet. That
is our last hypsometer record, as I had the misfortune to break the
thermometer. The hypsometer was one of my chief delights, and nobody
could have been more disgusted than myself at its breaking. However, we
have the aneroid to check the height. We are going gradually up and up.
As one would expect, a considerable amount of lassitude was felt over
breakfast after our feed last night. The last thing on earth I wanted to
do was to ship the harness round my poor tummy when we started. As usual
a stiff breeze from the south and a temperature of -7 deg. blew in our faces.
Strange to say, however, we don't get frost-bitten. I suppose it is the
open-air life.

I could not tell if I had a frost-bite on my face now, as it is all
scales, so are my lips and nose. A considerable amount of red hair is
endeavouring to cover up matters. We crossed several ridges, and after
the effects of over-feeding had worn off did a pretty good march of
thirteen miles.

[No more Christmas Days, so no more big hooshes.[248]]

December 27. There is something the matter with our sledge or our team,
as we have an awful slog to keep up with the others. I asked Dr. Bill and
he said their sledge ran very easily. Ours is nothing but a desperate
drag with constant rallies to keep up. We certainly manage to do so, but
I am sure we cannot keep this up for long. We are all pretty well done up
to-night after doing 13.3 miles.

Our salvation is on the summits of the ridges, where hard neve and
sastrugi obtain, and we skip over this slippery stuff and make up lost
ground easily. In soft snow the other team draw steadily ahead, and it is
fairly heart-breaking to know you are putting your life out hour after
hour while they go along with little apparent effort.

December 28. The last few days have been absolutely cloudless, with
unbroken sunshine for twenty-four hours. It sounds very nice, but the
temperature never comes above zero and what Shackleton called "the
pitiless increasing wind" of the great plateau continues to blow at all
times from the south. It never ceases, and all night it whistles round
the tents, all day it blows in our faces. Sometimes it is S.S.E., or S.E.
to S., and sometimes even S. to W., but always southerly, chiefly
accompanied by low drift which at night forms quite a deposit round the
sledges. We expected this wind, so we must not growl at getting it. It
will be great fun sailing the sledges back before it. As far as weather
is concerned we have had remarkably fine days up here on this limitless
snow plain. I should like to know what there is beneath us--mountains and
valleys simply levelled off to the top with ice? We constantly come
across disturbances which I can only imagine are caused by the peaks of
ice-covered mountains, and no doubt some of the ice-falls and crevasses
are accountable to the same source. Our coming west has not cleared them,
as we have seen more disturbances to the west, many miles away. However,
they are getting less and less, and are now nothing but featureless rises
with apparently no crevasses. Our first two hours' pulling to-day....

*       *       *       *       *

_From Lashly's Diary_

December 29, 1911. A nasty head wind all day and low drift which
accumulates in patches and makes it the deuce of a job to get along. We
have got to put in long days to do the distance.

December 30, 1911. Sledges going heavy, surface and wind the same as
yesterday. We depoted our ski to-night, that is the party returning
_to-morrow_, when we march in the forenoon and camp to change our sledge
runners into 10 feet. Done 11 miles but a bit stiff.

December 31, 1911. After doing 7 miles we camped and done the sledges
which took us until 11 P.M., and we had to dig out to get them done by
then, made a depot and saw the old year out and the new year in. We all
wondered where we should be next New Year. It was so still and quiet; the
weather was dull and overcast all night, in fact we have not seen much of
the sun lately; it would be so nice if we could sometimes get a glimpse
of it, the sun is always cheering.

January 1912. _New Year's Day._ We pushed on as usual, but were rather
late getting away, 9.10--something unusual for us to be as late. The
temperature and wind is still very troublesome. We are now ahead of
Shackleton's dates and have passed the 87th parallel, so it is only 180
miles to the Pole.

January 2, 1912. The dragging is still very heavy and we seem to be
always climbing higher. We are now over 10,000 feet above sea level. It
makes it bad as we don't get enough heat in our food and the tea is not
strong enough to run out of the pot. Everything gets cold so quickly, the
water boils at about 196 deg. F.

*       *       *       *       *

Scott's own diary of this first fortnight on the plateau shows the
immense shove of the man: he was getting every inch out of the miles,
every ounce out of his companions. Also he was in a hurry, he always was.
That blizzard which had delayed him just before the Gateway, and the
resulting surfaces which had delayed him in the lower reaches of the
glacier! One can feel the averages running through his brain: so many
miles to-day: so many more to-morrow. When shall we come to an end of
this pressure? Can we go straight or must we go more west? And then the
great undulating waves with troughs eight miles wide, and the buried
mountains, causing whirlpools in the ice--how immense, and how annoying.
The monotonous march: the necessity to keep the mind concentrated to
steer amongst disturbances: the relief of a steady plod when the
disturbances cease for a time: then more pressure and more crevasses.
Always slog on, slog on. Always a fraction of a mile more.... On December
30 he writes, "We have caught up Shackleton's dates."[249]

They made wonderful marches, averaging nearly fifteen statute miles (13
geog.) a day for the whole-day marches until the Second Return Party
turned back on January 4. Scott writes on December 26, "It seems
astonishing to be disappointed with a march of 15 (statute) miles when I
had contemplated doing little more than 10 with full loads."[250]

The Last Returning Party came back with the news that Scott must reach
the Pole with the greatest ease. This seemed almost a certainty: and yet