South with Scott Part 8

Brodiaga (Robber).

Biele Glas (White Eye).

Wolk (Wolf).

Mannike Noogis (Little Leader).

Kesoi (One Eye).

Julik (Scamp).

Tresor (Treasure).

Vida.

k.u.mugai.

Biela Noogis (White Leader).

Hohol (Little Russian).

Krisraviza (Beauty).

Lappe Uki (Lap Ears).

Petichka (Little Bird).

Cigane (Gipsy).

Giliak (Indian).

Osman.

Seri (Gray).

Sukoi (Lean).

Borup.

Rabchick (Grouse).

Ostre Nos (Long Nose).

Makaka (Monkey).

Chorne Stareek (Black Old Man).

Peary.

_Note._--Borup and Peary were from the American North Polar Expedition puppies. Borup was used in Dimitri's dog team which got right on to the Beardmore Glacier, but Peary was never any use except for the other dogs to sharpen their teeth on. He was a regular pariah.

Apart from the sledge dogs, we had a b.i.t.c.h called La.s.sie for breeding purposes, but she was a rotten dog and killed her puppies, so we might as well have left her in New Zealand, where we got her.

The dogs came through the winter very well, and during blizzards they merely coiled themselves up into round b.a.l.l.s of fur and let the snow drift over them. Meares and Dimitri kept a very watchful eye over the dog teams, and protected them against the prevailing winds with substantial snow-shelters, always taking the weaker or sick animals into the annexe where Birdie kept his stores, or else into the small dog hospital, which was made by Dimitri and perfected by Meares.

The sun returned to us on the 22nd August. We were denied a sight of it owing to bad weather, for on the 22nd and 23rd August we had a blizzard with very heavy snowfall, and the drift was so great that, when it became necessary to leave the hut for any purpose, the densely packed flakes almost stifled us. We hoped to see the sun at noon on the 23rd when it was denied us on the previous day, but no such luck, the sun's return was heralded by one of our worst blizzards, which continued with very occasional lulls until August 26, when we actually saw the sun, just a bit of it. I saw the upper limb from out on the sea ice, and Sunny Jim at the same time got a sight of it from his observatory hill. How glad we were. We drank champagne to honour the sun, people made poetry concerning it, some of which--Birdie Bowers's lines--found their way eventually into the "South Polar Times." The animals went half dotty over it, frisking, kicking, and breaking away even from their leaders; they seemed to understand so well, these little ponies, that the worst part of the winter was gone--poor ponies! Long before the sun again disappeared below the northern horizon the ponies were no more.

There is not so very much in the statement that the sun had now returned, but the fact, of little enough significance to those without the Antarctic Circle, left something in our minds, an impression never to be effaced--the snowed-up hut surrounded by a great expanse of white, the rather surprised look an the dogs' faces, the sniffing at one's knees and the wagging of tails as one approached to pat their heads, the twitching of the ponies' ears and nostrils, and the rather impish att.i.tude the fitter animals adopted, the occasional kick out, probably meant quite playfully, and above all the grins on the faces of the Russian grooms.

Yes, we were all smiling when the sun came back, even the horizon smiled kindly at us from the north. The Barne Glacier's snout lost its inexorable hard gray look and took on softer hues, and Erebus's slopes were now bathed in every shade of orange, pink, and purple. To begin with, we had very little of this lovely colouring, but soon the gladdening tints stretched out over morning and afternoon. We were never idle in the hut, but the sun's return seemed to make fingers lighter as well as hearts.

CHAPTER X

SPRING DEPOT JOURNEY

However well equipped an expedition may be, there are always special arrangements and adaptions necessary to further the labour-saving contrivances and extend the radius of action.

For this reason the short autumn journeys had been undertaken to test the equipment as well as to give us sledging experience and carry weights of stores out on to the Barrier. And now that Wilson had added yet more knowledge to what we were up against, we set Evans and his seamen companions on to the most strenuous preparations for going South with sledges. Thus, while one lot of men were skilfully fitting sledges with convenient straps to secure the loads against the inevitable b.u.mping, jolting, and capsizing, and lashing tank-like contrivances of waterproof canvas on, to contain the component units of food, another set of people would be fastening light wicker or venesta boxes athwart the sledge ends for carrying instruments and such perishable things as the primus stoves and methylated spirit bottles. These sledges were under the particular charge of Petty Officer Evans, and he took delightful pride in his office. What little gray dawn there was enabled him gleefully to inspect the completed sledges as they stood ready in their special groups outside our hut.

The more general type would be the 12 ft. sledge, constructed of light elm with hickory runners. On it were secured venesta wood trays for the tins of paraffin, usually in front, the aforesaid capacious canvas tank, and behind everything the oblong instrument box surmounted by light wooden chocks for holding the aluminium cooker.

All sledges had small manilla rope spans, secured in most seamanlike fashion, to take the towing strain and throw it fairly through the structure of these light but wonderfully strong sledges.

While the sledging equipment advanced, Bowers, aided by Cherry-Garrard, sorted out the rations, which he weighed and packed in the most business-like manner. Bowers was always well served, for he had the happy knack of enlisting volunteers for whatever his particular purpose called.

By September 1 Scott must have felt that no portion of his preparations was incomplete, for the travelling equipment had been taken in hand with a thoroughness that was the outcome of zeal and thoughtful attention to detail.

Previous to the departure of the large caravan for the Polar journey, a spring journey was proposed for the purpose of laying a small depot at Corner Camp and generally reconnoitring. On account of the low spring temperatures no animals were used for this trip, which was carried out by Gran, Forde, and myself.

We started on ski, pulling a heavy load of over six hundred pounds. We marched from eight o'clock in the morning until nine at night, with a short interval for lunch, and that first day out we covered twenty miles and arrived on the Great Ice Barrier at the close of our march. The Barrier in its bleak loneliness is probably the most desolate portion of the earth's surface, with the possible exception of the high plateau which forms the ice cap of the great Antarctic mountain ranges. Although only twenty miles from our winter quarters at Cape Evans, the temperature was 21 degrees lower, as we afterwards found by comparison.

We were all three anxious to acquit ourselves well, and although the temperature on camping was 42 degrees below zero we had not experienced any great discomfort until we encountered a sharp, cold breeze off Cape Armitage, which resulted in Forde having his nose badly frost-bitten.

Directly this was noticed we quickly unpacked our sledge, erected our tent, and whilst Gran cooked the supper I applied what warmth I could to Forde's nose to bring the frozen part of it back to life.

Needless to say, the sharp air had keened our appet.i.tes, and we were all eager for the fragrant smelling pemmican. We sat round on our rolled-up fur sleeping-bags, warming our hands over the primus stove, and literally yearning for the moment to arrive when the pemmican would boil and we could absorb the delicious beverage and derive some badly needed warmth therefrom. Following the pemmican and biscuit came a fine brew of cocoa.

This finished, the bags were unstrapped and laid out, when the three of us soon curled up and, huddling together for warmth, endeavoured to get to sleep. The thermometer, however, fell to 60 degrees below zero, and the cold seemed to grip us particularly about the feet and loins. All night we shivered and fidgeted, feeling the want of extra beat in the small of our backs more than elsewhere. We got little or no sleep that night, and my companions were as glad as I was myself when daylight came and we got busy with our breakfast.

We arrived at the old pony-food depot, Safety Camp, during the forenoon of September 9, and dug out the stores and bales of compressed hay, which we carefully tallied and marked by setting up a large black flag. Then we continued towards Corner Camp. We covered only eight or nine miles this second day on account of spending much time in digging out the depot at Safety Camp. The temperature seemed to fall as we advanced into the Barrier, and this night the thermometer fell to 62 degrees below zero, which meant more shivering and even more discomfort, because now the moisture from our bodies and our breath formed ice in the fur of our sleeping-bags, especially at the head, hips, and feet. One can never forget the horrible ice-clammy feeling of one's face against the frozen fur. How I yearned for a whiff of mild New Zealand air and an hour of its glorious sunshine to thaw my frozen form.

In spite of the low temperature we did sleep this second night, for we were tired men, and Nature nursed us somehow into a sort of mild unconsciousness.

On the third day of our march a considerable effort was necessary to bring the sledge out of its settled position in the hard snow, but we soon got going, like willing horses swaying at our load. The day was very cold and our breath came out grayly steaming in the clear, crisp air.

At first our faces, feet, and fingers were quite painful from the cold, which bit right through, but as the march progressed the temperature rose kindly, until towards noon it was only about 30 degrees below zero, warm enough after what we had experienced earlier.

As we trudged along we watched the mist which clothed the distant hills uncurl from their summits and roll back into rising sheets of vapour which finally dispersed and left a cloudless sky. The awful absence of life struck strong notes within us. Even our feet made no noise at all, clad in their soft fur boots, for we could no longer pull on ski owing to the increasing weight of ice collecting in our sleeping-bags and on the sledging equipment.

We were disappointed as the day progressed, for the sky became overcast and the wind blew stronger and stronger from the W.S.W: with low drifts, and at 8.30 p.m., it being too dark to see properly, we camped. By the time our tent was pitched a fair blizzard was upon us, and by 10 o'clock the camp was well snowed up. In spite of the howling wind we made all snug inside, and the temperature rose to such an extent that we got quite a good night's rest.

The blizzard continued throughout the night, but on the following day the wind took off somewhat, and by the afternoon it was fine enough for us to make a start again, which we did in a biting cold wind. We marched on until nightfall, covering about seven and a half miles.

On the 13th September, having shivered in my bag all night, at five o'clock I told my companions to get up, both of them being awake. The cold had been so dreadful that none of us had slept a wink, and we were not at all surprised on looking at the thermometer when we found the temperature was 73.3 degrees below zero, Fahrenheit.

We cooked a meal and then prepared to scout for Corner Camp. I got a glimpse of Observation Hill, a well-known landmark, and took a bearing of that and another hill.

This gave me our whereabouts, and then we struck southward for a short distance until we saw just the top of the flagstaff of Corner Camp, which had been entirely buried up by the winter's snow-drifts. When we reached the Camp we pitched our tent and dug out all the forenoon, until eventually we had got all the stores repacked in an accessible fashion at the top of a great snow cairn constructed by the three of us. It was about the coldest day's work I ever remember doing.

The job finished, we made ourselves some tea and then started to march back to Hut Point, nearly thirty-five miles away. We proposed to do this distance without camping, except for a little food, for we had no wish to remain another minute at Corner Camp, where it was blowing a strong breeze with a temperature of 32 degrees below zero all the time we were digging, in fact about as much as we could stick. When four miles on our homeward journey the wind dropped to a calm, and at 10.30 we had some pemmican and tea, having covered nine and a half miles according to our sledge meter. We started again at midnight, and, steering by stars, kept our course correct. The hot tea seemed to run through my veins; its effect was magical, and the ice-bitten feeling of tired men gave way once more to vigour and alertness.

As we started out again we witnessed a magnificent Auroral display, and as we dragged the now light sledge onward we watched the gold white streamers waving and playing in the heavens. The atmosphere, was extraordinarily clear, and we seemed to be marching in fairyland, but for the cold which made our breath come in gasps. We were cased lightly in ice about the shoulders, loins, and feet, and we were also covered with the unpleasant rime which our backs had brushed off the tent walls when we had camped. On we went, however, confident but silent. No other sound now but the swish, swish of our ski as we sped through the soft new snow.

In the light of the Aurora objects stood out with the razor-edge sharpness of an after-blizzard atmosphere, and the temperature seemed to fall even lower than at midnight. Our fingers seemed to be cut with the frost burn, and frost bites played all round our faces, making us wince with pain.

We were marching, as, it were, under the shadow of Erebus, the great Antarctic volcano, and on this never-to-be-forgotten night the Southern Lights played for hours. If for nothing else, it was worth making such a sledge journey to witness the display. First, vertical shafts ascended in a fan of electric flame, and then the shafts all merged into a filmy, pale chrome sheet. This faded and intensified alternately, and then in an instant disappeared, but more flaming lights burst into view in other parts of the heavens, and a phantom curtain of glittering electric violet trembled between the lights and the stars.

No wonder Wilson and Bowers stated that the Aurora effects were much better and more variegated in colour this southern side of Mount Erebus.

The awful splendour of this majestic vision gave us all a most eerie feeling, and we forgot our fatigue and the cold whilst we watched.

The Southern Lights continued for some hours, only vanishing with the faint appearance of dawn. With daylight the well-known hills which surrounded our winter quarters thrust themselves into view, and gladdened by this sight we redoubled our efforts.