There were more disadvantages in this five-man party than you might

think. There was 51/2 weeks' food for four men: five men would eat this in
about four weeks. In addition to the extra risk of breakdown, there was
a certain amount of discomfort involved, for everything was arranged for
four men as I have already explained; the tent was a four-man tent, and
an inner lining had been lashed to the bamboos making it smaller still:
when stretched out for the night the sleeping-bags of the two outside men
must have been partly off the floor-cloth, and probably on the snow:
their bags must have been touching the inner tent and collecting the rime
which was formed there: cooking for five took about half an hour longer
in the day than cooking for four--half an hour off your sleep, or half an
hour off your march? I do not believe that five men on the lid of a
crevasse are as safe as four. Wilson writes that the stow of the sledge
with five sleeping-bags was pretty high: this makes it top-heavy and
liable to capsize in rough country.

But what would have paralysed anybody except Bowers was the fact that
they had only four pairs of ski between the five of them. To slog along
on foot, in soft snow, in the middle of four men pulling rhythmically on
ski, must have been tiring and even painful; and Birdie's legs were very
short. No steady swing for him, and little chance of getting his mind off
the job in hand. Scott could never have meant to take on five men when he
told his supporting team to leave their ski behind, only four days before
he reorganized.

"May I be there!" wrote Wilson of the men chosen to travel the ice-cap to
the Pole. "About this time next year may I be there or thereabouts! With
so many young bloods in the heyday of youth and strength beyond my own I
feel there will be a most difficult task in making choice towards the
end." "I should like to have Bill to hold my hand when we get to the
Pole," said Scott.

Wilson _was_ there and his diary is that of an artist, watching the
clouds and mountains, of a scientist observing ice and rock and snow, of
a doctor, and above all of a man with good judgment. You will understand
that the thing which really interested him in this journey was the
acquisition of knowledge. It is a restrained, and for the most part a
simple, record of facts. There is seldom any comment, and when there is
you feel that, for this very reason, it carries more weight. Just about
this time: "December 24. Very promising, thoroughly enjoyed the afternoon
march": "Christmas Day, and a real good and happy one with a very long
march": "January 1, 1912. We had only 6 hours' sleep last night by a
mistake, but I had mine solid in one piece, actually waking in exactly
the same position as I fell asleep in 6 hours before--never moved":
"January 2. We were surprised to-day by seeing a Skua gull flying over
us--evidently hungry but not weak. Its droppings, however, were clear
mucus, nothing in them at all. It appeared in the afternoon and
disappeared again about 1/2 hour after." And then on January 3: "Last night
Scott told us what the plans were for the South Pole. Scott, Oates,
Bowers, Petty Officer Evans and I are to go to the Pole. Teddie Evans is
to return from here to-morrow with Crean and Lashly. Scott finished his
week's cooking to-night and I begin mine to-morrow." Just that.

The next day Bowers wrote: "I had my farewell breakfast in the tent with
Teddy Evans, Crean and Lashly. 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 returning, to see that all was going well. Our party were on
ski with the exception of myself: I first made fast to the central span,
but afterwards connected up to the toggle of the sledge, pulling in the
centre between the inner ends of Captain Scott's and Dr. Wilson's traces.
This was found to be the best place, as I had to go my own step.

"Teddy and party gave us three cheers, and Crean was half in tears. They
have a feather-weight sledge to go back with of course, and ought to run
down their distance easily.[295] 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 northerly 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 deg. 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 become immediately covered with long feathery
crystals exactly like plumes. Socks, mitts and finnesko 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 11/2 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."[296]

Plenty of sun, heavy surfaces, iridescent clouds ... the worst windcut
sastrugi I have seen, covered with bunches of crystals like gorse ... ice
blink all round ... hairy faces and mouths dreadfully iced up on the
march ... hot and sweaty days' work, but sometimes cold hands in the
loops of the ski sticks ... windy streaky cirrus in every direction, all
thin and filmy and scrappy ... horizon clouds all being wafted about....
These are some of the impressions here and there in Wilson's diary during
the first ten days of the party's solitary march. On the whole he is
enjoying himself, I think.

You should read Scott's diary yourself and form your own opinions, but I
think that after the Last Return Party left him there is a load off his
mind. The thing had worked so far, it was up to _them_ now: that great
mass of figures and weights and averages, those years of preparation,
those months of anxiety--no one of them had been in vain. They were up
to date in distance, and there was a very good amount of food, probably
more than was necessary to see them to the Pole and off the plateau on
full rations. Best thought of all, perhaps, the motors with their
uncertainties, the ponies with their suffering, the glacier with its
possibilities of disaster, all were behind: and the two main supporting
parties were safely on their way home. Here with him was a fine party,
tested and strong, and only 148 miles from the Pole.

I can see them, working with a business-like air, with no fuss and no
unnecessary talk, each man knowing his job and doing it: pitching the
tent: finishing the camp work and sitting round on their sleeping-bags
while their meal was cooked: warming their hands on their mugs: saving a
biscuit to eat when they woke in the night: packing the sledge with a
good neat stow: marching with a solid swing--we have seen them do it so
often, and they did it jolly well.

And the conditions did not seem so bad. "To-night it is flat calm; the
sun so warm that in spite of the temperature we can stand about outside
in the greatest comfort. It is amusing to stand thus and remember the
constant horrors of our situation as they were painted for us: the sun is
melting the snow on the ski, etc. The plateau is now very flat, but we
are still ascending slowly. The sastrugi are getting more confused,
predominant from the S.E. I wonder what is in store for us. At present
everything seems to be going with extraordinary smoothness.... We feel
the cold very little, the great comfort of our situation is the excellent
drying effect of the sun.... Our food continues to amply satisfy. What
luck to have hit on such an excellent ration. We really are an
excellently found party ... we lie so very comfortably, warmly clothed in
our comfortable bags, within our double-walled tent."[297]

Then something happened.

While Scott was writing the sentences you have just read, he reached the
summit of the plateau and started, ever so slightly, to go downhill. The
list of corrected altitudes given by Simpson in his meteorological
report are of great interest: Cape Evans 0, Shambles Camp 170, Upper
Glacier Depot 7151, Three Degree Depot 9392, One and a Half Degree Depot
9862, South Pole 9072 feet above sea-level.[298]

What happened is not quite clear, but there is no doubt that the surface
became very bad, that the party began to feel the cold, and that before
long Evans especially began to crock. The immediate trouble was bad
surfaces. I will try and show why these surfaces should have been met in
what was, you must remember, now a land which no man had travelled
before.

Scott laid his One and a Half Degree Depot (i.e. 11/2 deg. or 90 miles from
the Pole) on January 10. That day they started to go down, but for
several days before that the plateau had been pretty flat. Time after
time in the diaries you find crystals--crystals--crystals: crystals
falling through the air, crystals bearding the sastrugi, crystals lying
loose upon the snow. Sandy crystals, upon which the sun shines and which
made pulling a terrible effort: when the sky clouds over they get along
much better. The clouds form and disperse without visible reason. And
generally the wind is in their faces.

Wright tells me that there is certain evidence in the records which may
explain these crystals. Halos are caused by crystals and nearly all those
logged from the bottom of the Beardmore to the Pole and back were on this
stretch of country, where the land was falling. Bowers mentions that the
crystals did not appear in all directions, which goes to show that the
air was not always rising, but sometimes was falling and therefore not
depositing its moisture. There is no doubt that the surfaces met were
very variable, and it may be that the snow lay in waves. Bowers mentions
big undulations for thirty miles before the Pole, and other inequalities
may have been there which were not visible. There is sometimes evidence
that these crystals were formed on the windward side of these waves, and
carried over by a strong wind and deposited on the lee side.

It is common knowledge that as you rise in the atmosphere so the pressure
decreases: in fact, it is usual to measure your height by reading the
barometer. Now the air on this last stretch to the Pole was rising, for
the wind was from the south, and, as we have seen, the plateau here was
sloping down towards the Pole. The air, driven uphill by this southerly
wind, was forced to rise. As it rose it expanded, because the pressure
was less. Air which has expanded without any heat being given to it from
outside, that is in a heat-proof vessel, is said to expand by adiabatic
expansion. Such air tends first to become saturated, and then to
precipitate its moisture. These conditions were approximately fulfilled
on the plateau, where the air expanded as it rose, but could get little
or no heat from outside. The air therefore precipitated its moisture in
the form of crystals.

Owing to the rapid changes in surfaces (on one occasion they depoted
their ski because they were in a sea of sastrugi, and had to walk back
for them because the snow became level and soft again) Scott guessed that
the coastal mountains could not be far away, and we now know that the
actual distance was only 130 miles. About the same time Scott mentions
that he had been afraid that they were weakening in their pulling, but he
was reassured by getting a patch of good surface and finding the sledge
coming as easily as of old. On the night of January 12, eight days after
leaving the Last Return Party, he writes: "At camping to-night every one
was chilled and we guessed a cold snap, but to our surprise the actual
temperature was higher than last night, when we could dawdle in the sun.
It is most unaccountable why we should suddenly feel the cold in this
manner: partly the exhaustion of the march, but partly some damp quality
in the air, I think. Little Bowers is wonderful; in spite of my protest
he _would_ take sights after we had camped to-night, after marching in
the soft snow all day when we have been comparatively restful on
ski."[299] On January 14, Wilson wrote: "A very cold grey thick day with
a persistent breeze from the S.S.E. which we all felt considerably, but
temperature was only -18 deg. at lunch and -15 deg. in the evening. Now just over
40 miles from the Pole." Scott wrote the same day: "Again we noticed the
cold; at lunch to-day all our feet were cold but this was mainly due to
the bald state of our finnesko. I put some grease under the bare skin and
found it make all the difference. Oates seems to be feeling the cold and
fatigue more than the rest of us, but we are all very fit." And on
January 15, lunch: "We were all pretty done at camping."[300] And Wilson:
"We made a depot [The Last Depot] of provisions at lunch time and went on
for our last lap with nine days' provision. We went much more easily in
the afternoon, and on till 7.30 P.M. The surface was a funny mixture of
smooth snow and sudden patches of sastrugi, and we occasionally appear to
be on a very gradual down gradient and on a slope down from the west to
east." In the light of what happened afterwards I believe that the party
was not as fit at this time as might have been expected ten days before,
and that this was partly the reason why they felt the cold and found the
pulling so hard. The immediate test was the bad surface, and this was the
result of the crystals which covered the ground.

Simpson has worked out[301] that there is an almost constant pressure
gradient driving the air on the plateau northwards parallel to the 146 deg.
E. meridian, and parallel also to the probable edge of the plateau. The
mean velocity for the months of this December and January was about 11
miles an hour. During this plateau journey Scott logged wind force 5 and
over on 23 occasions, and this wind was in their faces from the Beardmore
to the Pole, and at their backs as they returned. A low temperature when
it is calm is paradise compared to a higher temperature with a wind, and
it is this constant pitiless wind, combined with the altitude and low
temperatures, which has made travelling on the Antarctic plateau so
difficult.

While the mean velocity of wind during the two midsummer months seems to
be fairly constant, there is a very rapid fall of temperature in
January. The mean actual temperature found on the plateau this year in
December was -8.6 deg., the minimum observed being -19.3 deg.. Simpson remarks
that "it must be accounted as one of the wonders of the Antarctic that it
contains a vast area of the earth's surface where the mean temperature
during the warmest month is more than 8 deg. below the Fahrenheit zero, and
when throughout the month the highest temperature was only +5.5 deg. F."[302]
But the mean temperature on the plateau dropped 10 deg. in January to -18.7 deg.,
the minimum observed being -29.7 deg.. These temperatures have to be combined
with the wind force described above to imagine the conditions of the
march. In the light of Scott's previous plateau journey[303] and
Shackleton's Polar Journey[304] this wind was always expected by our
advance parties. But there can be no doubt that the temperature falls as
solar radiation decreases more rapidly than was generally supposed. Scott
probably expected neither such a rapid fall of temperature, nor the very
bad surfaces, though he knew that the plateau would mean a trying time,
and indeed it was supposed that it would be much the hardest part of the
journey.

On the night of January 15, Scott wrote "it ought to be a certain thing
now, and the only appalling possibility the sight of the Norwegian flag
forestalling ours."[305] They were 27 miles from the Pole.

The story of the next three days is taken from Wilson's diary:

"_January 16._ We got away at 8 A.M. and made 7.5 miles by 1.15, lunched,
and then in 5.3 miles came on a black flag and the Norwegians' sledge,
ski, and dog tracks running about N.E. and S.W. both ways. The flag was
of black bunting tied with string to a fore-and-after which had evidently
been taken off a finished-up sledge. The age of the tracks was hard to
guess but probably a couple of weeks--or three or more. The flag was
fairly well frayed at the edges. We camped here and examined the tracks
and discussed things. The surface was fairly good in the forenoon -23 deg.
temperature, and all the afternoon we were coming downhill with again a
rise to the W., and a fall and a scoop to the east where the Norwegians
came up, evidently by another glacier."

[Illustration: AMUNDSEN'S POLHEIM--E. A. Wilson, del.]

"_January 17._ We camped on the Pole itself at 6.30 P.M. this evening. In
the morning we were up at 5 A.M. and got away on Amundsen's tracks going
S.S.W. for three hours, passing two small snow cairns, and then, finding
the tracks too much snowed up to follow, we made our own bee-line for the
Pole: camped for lunch at 12.30 and off again from 3 to 6.30 P.M. It blew
from force 4 to 6 all day in our teeth with temperature -22 deg., the coldest
march I ever remember. It was difficult to keep one's hands from freezing
in double woollen and fur mitts. Oates, Evans, and Bowers all have pretty
severe frost-bitten noses and cheeks, and we had to camp early for lunch
on account of Evans' hands. It was a very bitter day. Sun was out now and
again, and observations taken at lunch, and before and after supper, and
at night, at 7 P.M. and at 2 A.M. by our time. The weather was not clear,
the air was full of crystals driving towards us as we came south, and
making the horizon grey and thick and hazy. We could see no sign of cairn
or flag, and from Amundsen's direction of tracks this morning he has
probably hit a point about 3 miles off. We hope for clear weather
to-morrow, but in any case are all agreed that he can claim prior right
to the Pole itself. He has beaten us in so far as he made a race of it.
We have done what we came for all the same and as our programme was made
out. From his tracks we think there were only 2 men, on ski, with plenty
of dogs on rather low diet. They seem to have had an oval tent. We sleep
one night at the Pole and have had a double hoosh with some last bits of
chocolate, and X's cigarettes have been much appreciated by Scott and
Oates and Evans. A tiring day: now turning into a somewhat starchy frozen
bag. To-morrow we start for home and shall do our utmost to get back in
time to send the news to the ship."

"_January 18._ Sights were taken in the night, and at about 5 A.M. we
turned out and marched from this night camp about 33/4 miles back in a
S.E.ly direction to a spot which we judged from last night's sights to be
the Pole. Here we lunched camp: built a cairn: took photos: flew the
Queen Mother's Union Jack and all our own flags. We call this the Pole,
though as a matter of fact we went 1/2 mile farther on in a S. easterly
direction after taking further sights to the actual final spot, and here
we left the Union Jack flying. During the forenoon we passed the
Norwegians' last southerly camp: they called it Polheim and left here a
small tent with Norwegian and Fram flags flying, and a considerable
amount of gear in the tent: half reindeer sleeping-bags, sleeping-socks,
reinskin trousers 2 pair, a sextant, and artif[icial] horizon, a
hypsometer with all the thermoms broken, etc. I took away the spirit-lamp
of it, which I have wanted for sterilizing and making disinfectant
lotions of snow. There were also letters there: one from Amundsen to King
Haakon, with a request that Scott should send it to him. There was also a
list of the five men who made up their party, but no news as to what they
had done. I made some sketches here, but it was blowing very cold, -22 deg..
Birdie took some photos. We found no sledge there though they said there
was one: it may have been buried in drift. The tent was a funny little
thing for 2 men, pegged out with white line and tent-pegs of yellow wood.
I took some strips of blue-grey silk off the tent seams: it was perished.
The Norskies had got to the Pole on December 16, and were here from 15th
to 17th. At our lunch South Pole Camp we saw a sledge-runner with a black
flag about 1/2 mile away blowing from it. Scott sent me on ski to fetch it,
and I found a note tied to it showing that this was the Norskies' actual
final Pole position. I was given the flag and the note with Amundsen's
signature, and I got a piece of the sledge-runner as well. The small
chart of our wanderings shows best how all these things lie. After lunch
we made 6.2 miles from the Pole Camp to the north again, and here we are
camped for the night."[306]

The following remarks on the South Pole area were written by Bowers in
the Meteorological Log, apparently on January 17 and 18: "Within 120
miles of the South Pole the sastrugi crossed seem to indicate belts of
certain prevalent winds. These were definitely S.E.ly. up to about Lat.
78 deg. 30' S., where the summit was passed and we started to go definitely
downhill toward the Pole. An indefinite area was then crossed S.E.ly,
S.ly and S.W.ly sastrugi. Later, in about 79 deg. 30' S., those from the
S.S.W. predominated. At this point also the surface of the ice-cap became
affected by undulations running more or less at right angles to our
course. These resolved themselves into immense waves some miles in
extent,[307] with a uniform surface both in hollow and crust. The whole
surface was carpeted with a deposit of ice-crystals which, while we were
there, fell sometimes in the form of minute spicules and sometimes in
plates. These caused an almost continuous display of parhelia.

"The flags left a month previously by the Norwegian expedition were
practically undamaged and so could not have been exposed to very heavy
wind during that time. Their sledging and ski tracks, where marked, were
raised slightly, also the dogs' footprints. In the neighbourhood of their
South Pole Camp the drifts were S.W.ly, but there was one S.S.E. drift to
leeward of tent. They had pitched their tent to allow for S.W.ly wind.
For walking on foot the ground was all pretty soft, and on digging down
the crystalline structure of the snow was found to alter very little, and
there were no layers of crust such as are found on the Barrier. The snow
seems so lightly put together as not to cohere, and makes very little
water for its bulk when melted. The constant and varied motion of cirrus,
and the forming and motion of radiant points, shows that in the upper
atmosphere at this time of the year there is little or no
tranquillity."[308]

That is the bare bones of what was without any possible doubt a great
shock. Consider! These men had been out 21/2 months and were 800 miles
from home. The glacier had been a heavy grind: the plateau certainly not
worse, probably better, than was expected, as far as that place where the
Last Return Party left them. But then, in addition to a high altitude, a
head wind, and a temperature which averaged -18.7 deg., came this shower of
ice-crystals, turning the surface to sand, especially when the sun was
out. They were living in cirrus clouds, and the extraordinary state seems
to have obtained that the surface of the snow was colder when the sun was
shining than when clouds checked the radiation from it. They began to
descend. Things began to go not quite right: they felt the cold,
especially Oates and Evans: Evans' hands also were wrong--ever since the
seamen made that new sledge. The making of that sledge must have been
fiercely cold work: one of the hardest jobs they did. I am not sure that
enough notice has been taken of that.

And then: "The Norwegians have forestalled us and are first at the Pole.
It is a terrible disappointment, and I am very sorry for my loyal
companions. Many thoughts come and much discussion have we had. To-morrow
we must march on to the Pole and then hasten home with all the speed we
can compass. All the day-dreams must go; it will be a wearisome return."
"The Pole. Yes, but under very different circumstances from those
expected ... companions labouring on with cold feet and hands.... Evans
had such cold hands we camped for lunch ... the wind is blowing hard, T.
-21 deg., and there is that curious damp, cold feeling in the air which
chills one to the bone in no time.... Great God! this is an awful
place...."[309]

This is not a cry of despair. It is an ejaculation provoked by the
ghastly facts. Even now in January the temperature near the South Pole is
about 24 deg. lower than it is during the corresponding month of the year
(July) near the North Pole,[310] and if it is like this in mid-summer,
what is it like in mid-winter? At the same time it was, with the
exception of the sandy surfaces, what they had looked for, and every
detail of organization was working out as well as if not better than had
been expected.

Bowers was so busy with the meteorological log and sights which were
taken in terribly difficult circumstances that he kept no diary until
they started back. Then he wrote on seven consecutive days, as follows:

"_January 19._ A splendid clear morning with a fine S.W. wind blowing.
During breakfast time I sewed a flap attachment on to the hood of 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 these we travelled till we struck the other cairn and finally the
black flag where we had made our 58th outward camp. We then with much
relief left all traces of the Norwegians behind us, and headed on our own
track till lunch camp, when we had covered eight miles.

"In the afternoon we passed No. 2 cairn of the British route, and fairly
slithered along before 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 sixteen [miles] 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 1.45 P.M. The red flag on the bamboo pole was blowing
out merrily to welcome us back from the Pole, with its supply of
necessaries of life below. We are absolutely dependent upon our depots to
get off the plateau alive, and so welcome the lonely 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 should 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 resolved 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. We decided to await developments and get under weigh as soon
as it showed any signs of clearing. Fortunately it was shortlived, and
instead of lasting the regulation two days it eased up in the afternoon,
and 3.45 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 as middle number
of the five. Our distance completed was 5.5 miles, when camp was made
again. Our old cairns are of great assistance to us, 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' sheepskin boots this morning. They
were almost covered up after their long spell since they fell off the
sledge [on January 11]. The breeze was fair from the S.S.W. but got
lighter and lighter. 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 sawdust. The light sledge pulled by five men came
along like a drag without a particle of slide or give. 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 only thirty miles from the 11/2
Degree Depot, and should reach it in two marches with any luck." [The
minimum temperature this night was -30 deg. (uncorrected).]

"_January 23._ Started off with a bit of a breeze which helped us a
little [temperature -28 deg.]. After the first two hours it increased to
force 4, S.S.W., and filling the sail we sped along merrily, doing 83/4
miles before lunch. In the afternoon it was even stronger, and I had to
go back on 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, but as we were all getting
pretty cold latterly we stopped at a quarter to seven, having done 161/2
miles. We camped with considerable difficulty owing to the force of the
wind."[311]

The same night Scott wrote: "We came along at a great pace, and should
have got within an easy march of our [One and a Half Degree] Depot had
not Wilson suddenly discovered that Evans' nose was frost-bitten--it was
white and hard. We thought it best to camp at 6.45. Got the tent up with
some difficulty, and now pretty cosy after good hoosh.

"There is no doubt Evans is a good deal run down--his fingers are badly
blistered and his nose is rather seriously congested with frequent
frost-bites. He is very much annoyed with himself, which is not a good
sign. I think Wilson, Bowers and I are as fit as possible under the
circumstances. Oates gets cold feet. One way and another I shall be glad
to get off the summit!... The weather seems to be breaking up."[312]

Bowers resumes the tale:

"_January 24._ Evans has got his fingers all blistered with frost-bites,
otherwise we are all well, but thinning, and in spite of our good rations
get hungrier daily. I sometimes spend much thought on the march with
plans for making a pig of myself on the first opportunity. As that will
be after a further march of 700 miles they are 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 overrunning. The
blizzard got worse and worse till, having done only seven miles, we had
to camp soon after twelve 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 seven miles from our depot and this
delay is exasperating."[313]

[Scott wrote: "This is the second full gale since we left the Pole. I
don't like the look of it. Is the weather breaking up? If so, God help
us, with the tremendous summit journey and scant food. Wilson and Bowers
are my stand-by. I don't like the easy way in which Oates and Evans get
frost-bitten."[314]]

"_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 march. We have only three days'
food with us and shall be in Queer Street if we miss the depot. Our bags
are getting steadily wetter, so are our clothes. It shows a tendency to
clear off now (breakfast time) so, D.V., we may march after all. I am in
tribulation as regards meals now as we have run out of salt, one of my
favourite commodities. It is owing to Atkinson's party taking back an
extra tin by mistake from the Upper Glacier Depot. Fortunately we have
some depoted there, so I will only have to endure another two weeks
without it.

"10 P.M.--We have got in a march after all, thank the Lord. Assisted by
the wind we made an excellent rundown to our One and a Half Degree Depot,
where the big red flag was blowing out like fury with the breeze, in
clouds of driving drift. Here we picked up 11/4 cans of oil and one week's
food for five men, together with some personal gear depoted. We left the
bamboo and flag on the cairn. I was much relieved to pick up the depot:
now we only have one other source of anxiety on this endless snow summit,
viz. the Three Degree Depot in latitude 86 deg. 56' S.

"In the afternoon we did 5.2 miles. It was a miserable march, blizzard
all the time and our sledge either sticking in 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 snow glare from
following the track without goggles on.

"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 at the time that I would be returning from the Pole
itself."[315]

Wilson was very subject to these attacks of snow blindness, and also to
headaches before blizzards. I have an idea that his anxiety to sketch
whenever opportunity offered, and his willingness to take off his goggles
to search for tracks and cairns, had something to do with it. This attack
was very typical. "I wrote this at lunch and in the evening had a bad
attack of snow blindness." ... "Blizzard in afternoon. We only got in a
forenoon march. Couldn't see enough of the tracks to follow at all. My
eyes didn't begin to trouble me till to-morrow [yesterday], though it was
the strain of tracking and the very cold drift which we had to-day that
gave me this attack of snow glare." ... "Marched on foot in the afternoon
as my eyes were too bad to go on ski. We had a lot of drift and wind and
very cold. Had ZuSO_4 and cocaine in my eyes at night and didn't get to
sleep at all for the pain--dozed about an hour in the morning only." ...
"Marched on foot again all day as I couldn't see my way on ski at all,
Birdie used my ski. Eyes still very painful and watering. Tired out by
the evening, had a splendid night's sleep, and though very painful across
forehead to-night they are much better."[316]

The surface was awful: in his diary of the day after they left the Pole
(January 19) Wilson wrote an account of it. "We had a splendid wind right
behind us most of the afternoon and went well until about 6 P.M. when the
sun came out and we had an awful grind until 7.30 when we camped. The sun
comes out on sandy drifts, all on the move in the wind, and temp. -20 deg.,
and gives us an absolutely awful surface with no glide at all for ski or
sledge, and just like fine sand. The weather all day has been more or
less overcast with white broken alto-stratus, and for 3 degrees above the
horizon there is a grey belt looking like a blizzard of drift, but this
in reality is caused by a constant fall of minute snow crystals, very
minute. Sometimes instead of crystal plates the fall is of minute
agglomerate spicules like tiny sea-urchins. The plates glitter in the sun
as though of some size, but you can only just see them as pin-points on
your burberry. So the spicule collections are only just visible. Our
hands are never warm enough in camp to do any neat work now. The weather
is always uncomfortably cold and windy, about -23 deg., but after lunch
to-day I got a bit of drawing done."[317]

All the joy had gone from their sledging. They were hungry, they were
cold, the pulling was heavy, and two of them were not fit. As long ago as
January 14 Scott wrote that Oates was feeling the cold and fatigue more
than the others[318] and again he refers to the matter on January
20.[319] On January 19 Wilson wrote: "We get our hairy faces and mouths
dreadfully iced up on the march, and often one's hands very cold indeed
holding ski-sticks. Evans, who cut his knuckle some days ago at the last
depot, has a lot of pus in it to-night." January 20: "Evans has got 4 or
5 of his finger-tips badly blistered by the cold. Titus also his nose and
cheeks--al[so] Evans and Bowers." January 28: "Evans has a number of
badly blistered finger-ends which he got at the Pole. Titus' big toe is
turning blue-black." January 31: "Evans' finger-nails all coming off,
very raw and sore." February 4: "Evans is feeling the cold a lot, always
getting frost-bitten. Titus' toes are blackening, and his nose and cheeks
are dead yellow. Dressing Evans' fingers every other day with boric
vaseline: they are quite sweet still." February 5: "Evans' fingers
suppurating. Nose very bad [hard] and rotten-looking."[320]

Scott was getting alarmed about Evans, who "has dislodged two
finger-nails to-night; his hands are really bad, and, to my surprise, he
shows signs of losing heart over it. He hasn't been cheerful since the
accident."[321] "The party is not improving in condition, especially
Evans, who is becoming rather dull and incapable." "Evans' nose is almost
as bad as his fingers. He is a good deal crocked up."[322]

Bowers' diary, quoted above, finished on January 25, on which day they
picked up their One and a Half Degree Depot. "I shall sleep much better
with our provision bag full again," wrote Scott that night. "Bowers got
another rating sight to-night--it was wonderful how he managed to observe
in such a horribly cold wind." They marched 16 miles the next day, but
got off the outward track, which was crooked. On January 27 they did 14
miles on a "very bad surface of deep-cut sastrugi all day, until late in
the afternoon when we began to get out of them."[323] "By Jove, this is
tremendous labour," said Scott.

They were getting into the better surfaces again: 15.7 miles for January
28, "a fine day and a good march on very decent surface."[324] On January
29 Bowers wrote his last full day's diary: "Our record march to-day.
With a good breeze and improving surface we were soon in among 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 were
everywhere, S.S.E. in direction and S.E. We did 10.4 miles before lunch.
I was breaking back on sledge and controlling; it was beastly cold and my
hands were perished. In the afternoon I put on my dogskin mitts and was
far more comfortable. A stiff breeze with drift continues: temperature
-25 deg.. Thank God our days of having to face it are over. We completed 19.5
miles [22 statute] this evening, and so are only 29 miles from our
precious [Three Degree] Depot. It will be bad luck indeed if we do not
get there in a march and a half anyhow."[325]

Nineteen miles again on January 30, but during the previous day's march
Wilson had strained a tendon in his leg. "I got a nasty bruise on the
Tib[ialis] ant[icus] which gave me great pain all the afternoon." "My
left leg exceedingly painful all day, so I gave Birdie my ski and hobbled
alongside the sledge on foot. The whole of the Tibialis anticus is
swollen and tight, and full of teno synovitis, and the skin red and
oedematous over the shin. But we made a very fine march with the help of
a brisk breeze." January 31: "Again walking by the sledge with swollen
leg but not nearly so painful. We had 5.8 miles to go to reach our Three
Degree Depot. Picked this up with a week's provision and a line from
Evans, and then for lunch an extra biscuit each, making 4 for lunch and
1/10 whack of butter extra as well. Afternoon we passed cairn where
Birdie's ski had been left. These we picked up and came on till 7.30 P.M.
when the wind which had been very light all day dropped, and with temp.
-20 deg. it felt delightfully warm and sunny and clear. We have 1/10 extra
pemmican in the hoosh now also. My leg pretty swollen again
to-night."[326] They travelled 13.5 miles that day, and 15.7 on the next.
"My leg much more comfortable, gave me no pain, and I was able to pull
all day, holding on to the sledge. Still some oedema. We came down a
hundred feet or so to-day on a fairly steep gradient."[327]

They were now approaching the crevassed surfaces and the ice-falls which
mark the entrance to the Beardmore Glacier, and February 2 was marked by
another accident, this time to Scott. "On a very slippery surface I came
an awful 'purler' on my shoulder. It is horribly sore to-night and
another sick person added to our tent--three out of five injured, and the
most troublesome surfaces to come. We shall be lucky if we get through
without serious injury. Wilson's leg is better, but might easily get bad
again, and Evans' fingers.... We have managed to get off 17 miles. The
extra food is certainly helping us, but we are getting pretty hungry. The
weather is already a trifle warmer, the altitude lower and only 80 miles
or so to Mount Darwin. It is time we were off the summit.--Pray God
another four days will see us pretty well clear of it. Our bags are
getting very wet and we ought to have more sleep."[328]

They had been spending some time in finding the old tracks. But they had
a good landfall for the depot at the top of the glacier and on February 3
they decided to push on due north, and to worry no more for the present
about tracks and cairns. They did 16 miles that day. Wilson's diary runs:
"Sunny and breezy again. Came down a series of slopes, and finished the
day by going up one. Enormous deep-cut sastrugi and drifts and shiny
egg-shell surface. Wind all S.S.E.ly. To-day at about 11 P.M. we got our
first sight again of mountain peaks on our eastern horizon.... We crossed
the outmost line of crevassed ridge top to-day, the first on our return.

[Illustration: BUCKLEY ISLAND--Where The Fossils Were Found.]

"_February 4._ 18 miles. Clear cloudless blue sky, surface drift. During
forenoon we came down gradual descent including 2 or 3 irregular terrace
slopes, on crest of one of which were a good many crevasses. Southernmost
were just big enough for Scott and Evans to fall in to their waists, and
very deceptively covered up. They ran east and west. Those nearer the
crest were the ordinary broad street-like crevasses, well lidded. In the
afternoon we again came to a crest, before descending, with street
crevasses, and one we crossed had a huge hole where the lid had fallen
in, big enough for a horse and cart to go down. We have a great number of
mountain tops on our right and south of our beam as we go due north now.
We are now camped just below a great crevassed mound, on a mountain top
evidently."

"_February 5._ 18.2 miles. We had a difficult day, getting in amongst a
frightful chaos of broad chasm-like crevasses. We kept too far east and
had to wind in and out amongst them and cross multitudes of bridges.
We then bore west a bit and got on better all the afternoon and got round
a good deal of the upper disturbances of the falls here."

[Scott wrote: "We are camped in a very disturbed region, but the wind has
fallen very light here, and our camp is comfortable for the first time
for many weeks."[329]]

"_February 6._ 15 miles. We again had a forenoon of trying to cut
corners. Got in amongst great chasms running E. and W. and had to come
out again. We then again kept west and downhill over tremendous sastrugi,
with a slight breeze, very cold. In afternoon continued bearing more and
more towards Mount Darwin: we got round one of the main lines of ice-fall
and looked back up to it.... Very cold march: many crevasses: I walking
by the sledge on foot found a good many: the others all on ski."

"_February 7._ 15.5 miles. Clear day again and we made a tedious march in
the forenoon along a flat or two, and down a long slope: and then in the
afternoon we had a very fresh breeze, and very fast run down long slopes
covered with big sastrugi. It was a strenuous job steering and checking
behind by the sledge. We reached the Upper Glacier Depot by 7.30 P.M. and
found everything right."[330]

This was the end of the plateau: the beginning of the glacier. Their hard
time should be over so far as the weather was concerned. Wilson notes how
fine the land looked as they approached it: "The colour of the Dominion
Range rock is in the main all brown madder or dark reddish chocolate, but
there are numerous bands of yellow rock scattered amongst it. I think it
is composed of dolerite and sandstone as on the W. side."[331]

The condition of the party was of course giving anxiety: how much it is