South: The Story of Shackleton's Last Expedition, 1914-1917
during the storm, leaving seven dogs to haul the sledge. They marched a
mile and a half to the westward and built a cairn, but the weather was
very thick and they did not think it wise to proceed farther. They
could not see more than a hundred yards and the tent was soon out of
sight. They returned to the camp, and stayed there until the morning of
February 24, when they started the return march with snow still
falling. “We did get off from our camp,” says Mackintosh, “but had only
proceeded about four hundred yards when the fog came on so thick that
we could scarcely see a yard ahead, so we had to pitch the tent again,
and are now sitting inside hoping the weather will clear. We are going
back with only ten days’ provisions, so it means pushing on for all we
are worth. These stoppages are truly annoying. The poor dogs are
feeling hungry; they eat their harness or any straps that may be about.
We can give them nothing beyond their allowance of three biscuits each
as we are on bare rations ourselves; but I feel sure they require more
than one pound a day. That is what they are getting now.... After lunch
we found it a little clearer, but a very bad light. We decided to push
on. It is weird travelling in this light. There is no contrast or
outline; the sky and the surface are one, and we cannot discern
undulations, which we encounter with disastrous results. We picked up
the first of our outward cairns. This was most fortunate. After passing
a second cairn everything became blotted out, and so we were forced to
camp, after covering 4 miles 703 yds. The dogs are feeling the pangs of
hunger and devouring everything they see. They will eat anything except
rope. If we had not wasted those three days we might have been able to
give them a good feed at the Bluff depot, but now that is impossible.
It is snowing hard.”
The experiences of the next few days were unhappy. Another blizzard
brought heavy snow and held the party up throughout the 25th and 26th.
“Outside is a scene of chaos. The snow, whirling along with the wind,
obliterates everything. The dogs are completely buried, and only a
mound with a ski sticking up indicates where the sledge is. We long to
be off, but the howl of the wind shows how impossible it is. The
sleeping-bags are damp and sticky, so are our clothes. Fortunately, the
temperature is fairly high and they do not freeze. One of the dogs gave
a bark and Joyce went out to investigate. He found that Major, feeling
hungry, had dragged his way to Joyce’s ski and eaten off the leather
binding. Another dog has eaten all his harness, canvas, rope, leather,
brass, and rivets. I am afraid the dogs will not pull through; they all
look thin and these blizzards do not improve matters.... We have a
week’s provisions and one hundred and sixty miles to travel. It appears
that we will have to get another week’s provisions from the depot, but
don’t wish it. Will see what luck to-morrow. Of course, at Bluff we can
replenish.”
“We are now reduced to one meal in the twenty-four hours,” wrote
Mackintosh a day later. “This going without food keeps us colder. It is
a rotten, miserable time. It is bad enough having this wait, but we
have also the wretched thought of having to use the provisions already
depot-ed, for which we have had all this hard struggle.” The weather
cleared on the 27th, and in the afternoon Mackintosh and Joyce went
back to the depot, while Wild remained behind to build a cairn and
attempt to dry the sleeping-bags in the sun. The stores left at the
depot had been two and a quarter tins of biscuit (42 lbs. to the tin),
rations for three men for three weeks in bags, each intended to last
one week, and three tins of oil. Mackintosh took one of the weekly bags
from the depot and returned to the camp. The party resumed the homeward
journey the next morning, and with a sail on the sledge to take
advantage of the southerly breeze, covered nine miles and a half during
the day. But the dogs had reached almost the limit of their endurance;
three of them fell out, unable to work longer, while on the march. That
evening, for the first time since leaving the _Aurora_, the men saw the
sun dip to the horizon in the south, a reminder that the Antarctic
summer was nearing its close.
The remaining four dogs collapsed on March 2. “After lunch we went off
fairly well for half an hour. Then Nigger commenced to wobble about,
his legs eventually giving under him. We took him out of his harness
and let him travel along with us, but he has given us all he can, and
now can only lie down. After Nigger, my friend Pompey collapsed. The
drift, I think, accounts a good deal for this. Pompey has been splendid
of late, pulling steadily and well. Then Scotty, the last dog but one,
gave up. They are all lying down in our tracks. They have a painless
death, for they curl up in the snow and fall into a sleep from which
they will never wake. We are left with one dog, Pinkey. He has not been
one of the pullers, but he is not despised. We can afford to give him
plenty of biscuit. We must nurse him and see if we cannot return with
one dog at least. We are now pulling ourselves, with the sail (the
floor-cloth of the tent) set and Pinkey giving a hand. At one stage a
terrific gust came along and capsized the sledge. The sail was blown
off the sledge, out of its guys, and we prepared to camp, but the wind
fell again to a moderate breeze, so we repaired the sledge and
proceeded.
“It is blowing hard this evening, cold too. Another wonderful sunset.
Golden colours illuminate the sky. The moon casts beautiful rays in
combination with the more vivid ones from the dipping sun. If all was
as beautiful as the scene we could consider ourselves in some paradise,
but it is dark and cold in the tent and I shiver in a frozen
sleeping-bag. The inside fur is a mass of ice, congealed from my
breath. One creeps into the bag, toggles up with half-frozen fingers,
and hears the crackling of the ice. Presently drops of thawing ice are
falling on one’s head. Then comes a fit of shivers. You rub yourself
and turn over to warm the side of the bag which has been uppermost. A
puddle of water forms under the body. After about two hours you may
doze off, but I always wake with the feeling that I have not slept a
wink.”
The party made only three and a half miles on March 3. They were
finding the sledge exceedingly heavy to pull, and Mackintosh decided to
remove the outer runners and scrape the bottom. These runners should
have been taken off before the party started, and the lower runners
polished smooth. He also left behind all spare gear, including
dog-harness in order to reduce weight, and found the lighter sledge
easier to pull. The temperature that night was –28° Fahr., the lowest
recorded during the journey up to that time. “We are struggling along
at a mile an hour,” wrote Mackintosh on the 5th. “It is a very hard
pull, the surface being very sticky. Pinkey still accompanies us. We
hope we can get him in. He is getting all he wants to eat. So he
ought.” The conditions of travel changed the next day. A southerly wind
made possible the use of the sail, and the trouble was to prevent the
sledge bounding ahead over rough sastrugi and capsizing. The handling
of ropes and the sail caused many frost-bites, and occasionally the men
were dragged along the surface by the sledge. The remaining dog
collapsed during the afternoon and had to be left behind. Mackintosh
did not feel that he could afford to reduce the pace. The sledge-meter,
had got out of order, so the distance covered in the day was not
recorded. The wind increased during the night, and by the morning of
the 7th was blowing with blizzard force. The party did not move again
until the morning of the 8th. They were still finding the sledge very
heavy and were disappointed at their slow progress, their marches being
six to eight miles a day. On the 10th they got the Bluff Peak in line
with Mount Discovery. My instructions had been that the Bluff depot
should be laid on this line, and as the depot had been placed north of
the line on the outward journey, owing to thick weather making it
impossible to pick up the landmarks, Mackintosh intended now to move
the stores to the proper place. He sighted the depot flag about four
miles away, and after pitching camp at the new depot site, he went
across with Joyce and Wild and found the stores as he had left them.
“We loaded the sledge with the stores, placed the large mark flag on
the sledge, and proceeded back to our tent, which was now out of sight.
Indeed it was not wise to come out as we did without tent or bag. We
had taken the chance, as the weather had promised fine. As we proceeded
it grew darker and darker, and eventually we were travelling by only
the light of stars, the sun having dipped. After four and a half hours
we sighted the little green tent. It was hard pulling the last two
hours and weird travelling in the dark. We have put in a good day,
having had fourteen hours’ solid marching. We are now sitting in here
enjoying a very excellent thick hoosh. A light has been improvised out
of an old tin with methylated spirit.”
The party spent the next day in their sleeping-bags, while a blizzard
raged outside. The weather was fine again on March 12, and they built a
cairn for the depot. The stores placed on this cairn comprised a six
weeks’ supply of biscuit and three weeks’ full ration for three men,
and three tins of oil. Early in the afternoon the men resumed their
march northwards and made three miles before camping. “Our bags are
getting into a bad state,” wrote Mackintosh, “as it is some time now
since we have had an opportunity of drying them. We use our bodies for
drying socks and such-like clothing, which we place inside our jerseys
and produce when required. Wild carries a regular wardrobe in this
position, and it is amusing to see him searching round the back of his
clothes for a pair of socks. Getting away in the mornings is our
bitterest time. The putting on of the finneskoe is a nightmare, for
they are always frozen stiff, and we have a great struggle to force our
feet into them. The icy sennegrass round one’s fingers is another
punishment that causes much pain. We are miserable until we are
actually on the move, then warmth returns with the work. Our
conversation now is principally conjecture as to what can have happened
to the other parties. We have various ideas.”
Saturday, March 13, was another day spent in the sleeping-bags. A
blizzard was raging and everything was obscured. The men saved food by
taking only one meal during the day, and they felt the effect of the
short rations in lowered vitality. Both Joyce and Wild had toes
frost-bitten while in their bags and found difficulty in getting the
circulation restored. Wild suffered particularly in this way and his
feet were very sore. The weather cleared a little the next morning, but
the drift began again before the party could break camp, and another
day had to be spent in the frozen bags.
The march was resumed on March 15. “About 11 p.m. last night the
temperature commenced to get lower and the gale also diminished. The
lower temperature caused the bags, which were moist, to freeze hard. We
had no sleep and spent the night twisting and turning. The morning
brought sunshine and pleasure, for the hot hoosh warmed our bodies and
gave a glow that was most comforting. The sun was out, the weather fine
and clear but cold. At 8.30 a.m. we made a start. We take a long time
putting on our finneskoe, although we get up earlier to allow for this.
This morning we were over four hours’ getting away. We had a fine