A First Rate Tragedy (25 page)

Scott’s depot-laying party of thirteen men marched out on 24 January, just three weeks after landing. There was a sense of occasion with, in Wilson’s words, ‘. . . a great deal of photographing and a good deal of trouble and excitement’ as the dogs and ponies slithered about on the ice. The men were amused by the figures they cut in their sledging garments. Debenham decided that their windclothes, cut very full to go over other clothing, were ‘not at all elegant and make a man look very corpulent even dropsical!’

The plan was to march across the Barrier along the Polar route for a hundred miles or so, depoting such essential supplies as pony fodder, sledging rations, dog biscuits and paraffin at strategic points. The need for haste became immediately apparent – the sea ice which provided the only direct route to the Barrier was already breaking up. According to Cherry-Garrard the party crossed it in the nick of time ‘in a state of hurry bordering on panic’.

Wilson and Meares were responsible for the two dog teams with Dimitri Gerov, while Scott, Oates, Atkinson, Cherry-Garrard, Birdie Bowers, Gran, Crean, Forde, Keohane and Teddy Evans led or marched alongside the ponies. Wilson thoroughly enjoyed his dog driving, finding it ‘a very different thing to the beastly dog driving we perpetrated in the
Discovery
days’. He developed a deep affection for the leader of his team, ‘Stareek’, Russian for old man, ‘quite the nicest, quietest cleverest old dog gentleman I have ever come across. He looks . . . as though he knew all the wickedness of all the world and all its cares and as though he was bored to death by both of them.’ He had discussed dog driving with Meares on the voyage south from New Zealand and had concluded that ‘if any traction except ourselves can reach the top of Beardmore Glacier it will be the dogs.’ Scott’s attempt
at driving dogs was less successful, causing him to write in his journal that, ‘I withhold my opinion of the dogs, in much doubt as to whether they are going to be a real success – but the ponies are going to be real good.’

The party soon encountered problems. Atkinson’s foot became so badly chafed that he had to return to Cape Evans. Scott was not particularly sympathetic on the grounds that Atkinson ‘ought to have reported his trouble long before’. Also, the surface of the Barrier proved softer and more yielding than the mirror-hard surface they had expected. The ponies found it hard going and floundered badly. Scott had to acknowledge that the conditions did not suit them: ‘The great drawback is the ease with which they sink in soft snow . . . they struggle pluckily when they sink, but it is trying to watch them.’ Oates saw what was happening and grew despondent, but Scott dismissed his concern on the grounds that ‘he is not an optimist’. Pony snow shoes – circles of wire hooped with bamboo – were tried out on one pony, Weary Willie. Much to everyone’s surprise, including Oates who had so little confidence in the shoes that he had brought only a single set, they had a magical effect. Meares and Wilson were sent back to get some more but found that the ice had broken up, making a return to Cape Evans impossible. Scott understandably fretted that ‘so great a help to our work has been left behind at the station’.

The party struggled on south and east to reach a position due south of Cape Crozier, which they nicknamed Corner Camp. It gave a straight course for the Beardmore Glacier, the path taken by Shackleton, which was to be Scott’s gateway to the Pole. However, before they could move on, the first blizzard struck – it was an awesome encounter with what Cherry-Garrard called ‘raging chaos’ and it delayed them for three days. When it cleared they
pushed south again past Minna Bluff (named for Sir Clements Markham’s wife Minna), and set up Bluff Depot near the 79th parallel. Cherry-Garrard described what it was like sharing a tent with Scott:

Scott’s tent was a comfortable one to live in, and I was always glad when I was told to join it . . . He was himself extraordinarily quick, and no time was ever lost by his party in camping or breaking camp. He was most careful, some said over-careful but I do not think so, that everything should be neat and shipshape . . . And if you were ‘sledging with the Owner’ you had to keep your eyes wide open for the little things which cropped up, and do them quickly, and say nothing about them.

Life with Scott sounds wholly admirable, if a bit of a strain. Disciplined himself, he expected others to be similarly meticulous. Wright later recalled how some of the men were so in awe of Scott that they went outside into the cold to urinate, rather than doing so in the corner of the tent as was usual.

Although they had only been sledging for eighteen days, the ponies were weakening. Scott’s journal shows his distress and anxiety – not only was he depending on the ponies for the Polar journey, but he was haunted by their suffering. Oates, who loved horses too but was less sentimental, took a more pragmatic view, arguing that it would be better to drive the ponies as far south as possible and then kill them and depot the meat for the men and dogs of the Polar party. He thought it unlikely that many of the ponies would survive the journey back to Cape Evans. Nevertheless, Scott decided to send the three weakest – Blossom, Blucher and James Pigg – back with Teddy Evans, Keohane and
Forde. Blossom died almost immediately and Blucher after just thirty miles, vindicating Oates’s view.

Oates continued to argue for pushing on and killing the ponies, particularly Weary Willie, who was now very weak, having been set on by some of the dogs, but Scott refused, according to Gran, and there was a telling exchange: ‘I have had enough of this cruelty to animals,’ was Scott’s reply, ‘and I’m not going to defy my feelings for the sake of a few days’ march.’ ‘I’m afraid you’ll regret it, sir,’ said Oates in the end. ‘Regret it or not, my dear Oates,’ Scott answered, ‘I’ve made up my mind, like a Christian.’
¹²
In the event the farthest south they reached was only 79° 29'S, 130 geographical miles from Cape Evans and thirty miles farther north than Scott had intended. They laid a depot, called it ‘One Ton’ because of the enormous amount of stores left there, and marked it with a black flag. Scott now wrote in his diary that ‘we shall have a good leg up for next year and can at least feed the ponies full up to this point’. But as events would prove, if Scott had listened to Oates and laid the depot further south, nearer the Pole, the returning Polar party, frozen, starving and exhausted, might have gained at least temporary relief.

By now the temperature had dropped to around -21°F and many of the party were feeling the cold – Oates in particular was suffering with a frostbitten nose. Reflecting that this did not bode well for the next season’s journeys, Scott now divided the party for the return journey. Scott, Wilson, Cherry-Garrard and Meares went ahead with the two dog teams. Bowers, Oates and Gran followed at their own pace with the five exhausted ponies. An interesting exchange took place between Oates and Gran as they tramped northwards again. According to Gran: ‘Oates was a completely closed book to me until I shared camp life with him . . . I (had) gained the impression that I did not find grace in his
eyes . . .’ Gran was correct. On 31 January Oates had written to his mother: ‘I can’t stand this Norwegian chap, he is both dirty and lazy. I have had one row with him and I should think it won’t be very long before I have another.’ However, as Gran described, on the return journey from One Ton Depot:

Oates told me straight out that what he had against me was not personal; it was just that I was a foreigner. With all his heart he hated all foreigners, because all foreigners hated England. The rest of the world led by Germany were just waiting to attack his Motherland, and destroy it if they could. I was about to reply when Bowers quickly intervened: ‘Could be something in what you say, Oates, but all the same I wager what you will that Gran would be with us if England is forced into war through no fault of her own.’ ‘Would you?’, asked Oates. ‘Of course,’ I replied, and the next instant he grasped my hand. From this moment the closed book opened, and Oates and I became the best of friends.

Scott meanwhile was increasingly impressed by the dogs’ performance. They made excellent time on the return journey and he had begun to consult Meares about how dog teams might perform on the Polar plateau. However, his confidence was soon shaken again. He and Meares narrowly escaped death when a snow bridge collapsed as they were crossing a crevasse. All but the leader of their team, the magnificently strong Osman, who had survived being washed overboard during the storm, tumbled in. Looking down, an appalled Wilson saw ‘a great blue chasm in which hung the team of dogs in a festoon’. They managed to haul up eleven
dogs, but two had slipped from their harness, fallen onto a snow shelf 65 feet below and promptly gone to sleep. Forgetting his responsibilities as leader and ignoring the strenuous objections of the others – Wilson thought it was an insane risk – the sentimental, animal-loving Scott insisted on being lowered on a rope to rescue them. This he managed, and the weary party reached Safety Camp on 22 February without further incident to find Teddy Evans with his solitary pony, James Pigg.

However, worse was to come. Atkinson, whose foot had recovered, delivered a bag of mail left at Cape Evans by the
Terra Nova
before she sailed on to New Zealand. The post included a letter from Campbell containing the dire tidings that he had discovered Amundsen camped on the ice at the Bay of Whales, a bight in the Great Ice Barrier near Edward VII Land. This was where Scott had made his precarious ascent in a balloon in 1902 and the most southerly point that a ship could reach. It was also a mere 400 miles from Scott’s own winter quarters. The challenge could not have been clearer. A bitterly angry Scott pored over Campbell’s account of the tense encounter between the Norwegians and the British.

Campbell described how his party had been unable to land as planned on King Edward VII Land because ice barred the
Terra Nova
’s way. Turning back, Campbell had decided to seek a wintering place on the Barrier itself and, rounding a point, the men of the
Terra Nova
had been astounded to see the
Fram
, as welcome as a Viking raiding ship, moored snugly at the Barrier’s edge. As Wilfred Bruce wrote to Kathleen, ‘Curses loud and deep were heard everywhere.’
¹³

The crews visited each other in an atmosphere of excruciating politeness. The Norwegian shore party consisted of nine men and 110 dogs, compared to Scott’s two shore parties totalling
thirty-three men and their assorted transport. The Norwegians were quite open about their plans. Amundsen intended to make a dash for the Pole with their dogs and on skis and to start as early as the weather allowed. He invited Campbell to stay at the Bay of Whales and make use of some of his dogs but Campbell declined. After meticulous civilities on both sides he took his leave, preferring to sail on with the
Terra Nova
on her passage to New Zealand and attempt a landing beyond Cape Adare.

Scott’s first reaction, as Cherry-Garrard described many years later to George Bernard Shaw, was fury. He had to master the temptation to rush to the Bay of Whales and have it out with Amundsen. Cherry-Garrard had never seen his captain so distressed. There are overtones here of Scott the child who hated losing. The thought of having the prize plucked from his grasp, plus the fact that Amundsen had not ‘played the game’ were unbearable. It was not fair! However, more sober reflection convinced him that, ‘The proper, as well as the wiser, course for us is to proceed exactly as though this had not happened. To go forward and do our best for the honour of the country without fear or panic.’

However, whether Scott liked it or not, the Polar journey would now be a race. He began to weigh up their respective chances, reflecting gloomily that at the Bay of Whales Amundsen was some sixty miles closer to the Pole. He pondered Amundsen’s reliance on dogs, admitting that his plans for running them seemed excellent and that he would be able to start earlier with dogs than he could with ponies. It would have depressed him further to know that on his final depot-laying journey Amundsen had achieved nearly sixty miles on his best day, his dogs whisking effortlessly over the frozen surface of the Barrier, and that he had laid his final depot 150 miles farther south than Scott’s. On average Scott
had only managed between a third and a half of Amundsen’s speed.

Scott anyway found it difficult to accept that intelligent animals like dogs could be driven for hundreds of miles over featureless terrain all the way to the Pole. He believed that ‘A dog must be either eating, asleep or
interested
. His eagerness to snatch at interest, to chain his attention to something, is almost pathetic. The monotony of marching kills him.’ Yet, even if Scott had now wanted to alter his plans and abandon his reliance on ponies, there was the danger of being accused of copying Amundsen.

While Scott was still reflecting on this strange twist of fate, Bowers, Oates and Gran arrived at Safety Camp with all five ponies, but Weary Willie was in a bad way. Scott stayed with Oates and Gran, trying unsuccessfully to nurse him but he died in the night. It emphasized even more clearly to Scott that ‘these blizzards are terrible for the poor animals . . . It makes a late start
necessary for next year
.’

Meanwhile Scott had sent the others ahead to the safety of Hut Point, which Wilson and Meares reached with the dog teams. However, a nightmarish sequence of events awaited Bowers, Cherry-Garrard and Crean. Unlike Wilson they decided to cross the sea-ice with their four emaciated ponies. As Bowers described, ‘it was a beastly march back: dark, gloomy and depressing.’ Progress was slow and they made camp on ice which seemed solid enough but extreme weariness probably affected their judgement – Bowers made the customary cocoa with curry powder and Crean did not even notice. They awoke to the unpleasant discovery that, as Bowers described, ‘We were in the middle of a floating pack of broken-up ice.’ One pony, Guts, had vanished and a desperate race now ensued to drag their sledges and the remaining three ponies from floe to floe to reach the safety of the
Barrier. As if this were not enough, Bowers described the ‘further unpleasantness’ caused by the sight of squadrons of killer whales cruising with ‘fiendish activity’ in the thirty to forty feet or so of open water which lay between them and the Barrier.