South: The Story of Shackleton's Last Expedition, 1914-1917
winds, and the distances covered were decidedly good. The sledge-meter
recorded 15 miles 1700 yds. on February 4, 17 miles 1400 yds. on the
5th, 18 miles 1200 yds. on the 6th, and 13 miles 1000 yds. on the 7th,
when the 81° S. depot was picked up at 10.30 a.m., and one week’s
stores taken, two weeks’ rations being left.
The march to the next depot, at 80° S., was uneventful. The party made
good marches in spite of bad surfaces and thick weather, and reached
the depot late in the afternoon of February 12. The supply of stores at
this depot was ample, and the men took a fortnight’s rations
(calculated on a three-man basis), leaving nearly four weeks’ rations.
Spencer-Smith seemed a little better, and all hands were cheered by the
rapid advance. February 14, 15, and 16 were bad days, the soft surface
allowing the men to sink to their knees at times. The dogs had a rough
time, and the daily distances fell to about eight miles. Mackintosh’s
weakness was increasing. Then on the 18th, when the party was within
twelve miles of the Bluff depot, a furious blizzard made travelling
impossible. This blizzard raged for five days. Rations were reduced on
the second day, and the party went on half-rations the third day.
“Still blizzarding,” wrote Joyce on the 20th. “Things are serious, what
with our patient and provisions running short. Dog provisions are
nearly out, and we have to halve their rations. We are now on one cup
of hoosh among the three of us, with one biscuit and six lumps of
sugar. The most serious of calamities is that our oil is running out.
We have plenty of tea, but no fuel to cook it with.” The men in
Mackintosh’s tent were in no better plight. Mackintosh himself was in a
bad way. He was uncertain about his ability to resume the march, but
was determined to try.
“Still blizzarding,” wrote Joyce again on the 21st. “We are lying in
pools of water made by our bodies through staying in the same place for
such a long time. I don’t know what we shall do if this does not ease.
It has been blowing continuously without a lull. The food for to-day
was one cup of pemmican amongst three of us, one biscuit each, and two
cups of tea among the three.” The kerosene was exhausted, but Richards
improvised a lamp by pouring some spirit (intended for priming the
oil-lamp) into a mug, lighting it, and holding another mug over it. It
took half an hour to heat a mug of melted snow in this way. “Same old
thing, no ceasing of this blizzard,” was Joyce’s note twenty-four hours
later. “Hardly any food left except tea and sugar. Richards, Hayward,
and I, after a long talk, decided to get under way to-morrow in any
case, or else we shall be sharing the fate of Captain Scott and his
party. The other tent seems to be very quiet, but now and again we hear
a burst of song from Wild, so they are in the land of the living. We
gave the dogs the last of their food to-night, so we shall have to
push, as a great deal depends on them.” Further quotations from Joyce’s
diary tell their own story.
“_February_ 23, _Wednesday_.—About 11 o’clock saw a break in the clouds
and the sun showing. Decided to have the meal we kept for getting under
way. Sang out to the Skipper’s party that we should shift as soon as we
had a meal. I asked Wild, and found they had a bag of oatmeal, some
Bovril cubes, one bag of chocolate, and eighteen biscuits, so they are
much better off than we are. After we had our meal we started to dig
out our sledge, which we found right under. It took us two hours, and
one would hardly credit how weak we were. Two digs of the shovel and we
were out of breath. This was caused through our lying up on practically
no food. After getting sledge out we took it around to the Skipper’s
tent on account of the heavy sastrugi, which was very high. Got under
way about 2.20. Had to stop very often on account of sail, etc. About
3.20 the Skipper, who had tied himself to the rear of the sledge, found
it impossible to proceed. So after a consultation with Wild and party,
decided to pitch their tent, leaving Wild to look after the Skipper and
Spencer-Smith, and make the best of our way to the depot, which is
anything up to twelve miles away. So we made them comfortable and left
them about 3.40. I told Wild I should leave as much as possible and get
back 26th or 27th, weather permitting, but just as we left them it came
on to snow pretty hard, sun going in, and we found even with the four
dogs we could not make more than one-half to three-quarters of a mile
an hour. The surface is so bad that sometimes you go in up to your
waist; still in spite of all this we carried on until 6.35. Camped in a
howling blizzard. I found my left foot badly frost-bitten. Now after
this march we came into our banquet—one cup of tea and half a biscuit.
Turned in at 9 o’clock. Situation does not look very cheerful. This is
really the worst surface I have ever come across in all my journeys
here.”
Mackintosh had stayed on his feet as long as was humanly possible. The
records of the outward journey show clearly that he was really unfit to
continue beyond the 82° S. depot, and other members of the party would
have liked him to have stayed with Spencer-Smith at lat. 83° S. But the
responsibility for the work to be done was primarily his, and he would
not give in. He had been suffering for several weeks from what he
cheerfully called “a sprained leg,” owing to scurvy. He marched for
half an hour on the 23rd before breaking down, but had to be supported
partly by Richards. Spencer-Smith was sinking. Wild, who stayed in
charge of the two invalids, was in fairly good condition. Joyce,
Richards, and Hayward, who had undertaken the relief journey, were all
showing symptoms of scurvy, though in varying degrees. Their legs were
weak, their gums swollen. The decision that the invalids, with Wild,
should stay in camp from February 24, while Joyce’s party pushed
forward to Bluff depot, was justified fully by the circumstances.
Joyce, Richards, and Hayward had difficulty in reaching the depot with
a nearly empty sledge. An attempt to make their journey with two
helpless men might have involved the loss of the whole party.
“_February_ 24, _Thursday_.—Up at 4:30; had one cup of tea, half
biscuit; under way after 7. Weather, snowing and blowing like
yesterday. Richards, laying the cairns had great trouble in getting the
compass within 10° on account of wind. During the forenoon had to stop
every quarter of an hour on account of our breath. Every time the
sledge struck a drift she stuck in (although only 200 lbs.), and in
spite of three men and four dogs we could only shift her with the 1—2—3
haul. I wonder if this weather will ever clear up. Camped in an
exhausted condition about 12.10. Lunch, half cup of weak tea and
quarter biscuit, which took over half an hour to make. Richards and
Hayward went out of tent to prepare for getting under way, but the
force of wind and snow drove them back. The force of wind is about
seventy to eighty miles per hour. We decided to get the sleeping-bags
in, which took some considerable time. The worst of camping is the poor
dogs and our weak condition, which means we have to get out of our wet
sleeping-bags and have another half cup of tea without working for it.
With scrapings from dog-tank it is a very scanty meal. This is the
second day the dogs have been without food, and if we cannot soon pick
up depot and save the dogs it will be almost impossible to drag our two
invalids back the one hundred miles which we have to go. The wind
carried on with unabating fury until 7 o’clock, and then came a lull.
We at once turned out, but found it snowing so thickly that it was
impossible to proceed on account of our weakness. No chance must we
miss. Turned in again. Wind sprang up again with heavy drift 8.30. In
spite of everything my tent-mates are very cheerful and look on the
bright side of everything. After a talk we decided to wait and turned
in. It is really wonderful what dreams we have, especially of food.
Trusting in Providence for fine weather to-morrow.
“_February_ 25, _Friday_.—Turned out 4.45. Richards prepared our usual
banquet, half cup of tea, quarter biscuit, which we relished. Under way
at 7, carried on, halting every ten minutes or quarter of an hour.
Weather, snowing and blowing same as yesterday. We are in a very weak
state, but we cannot give in. We often talk about poor Captain Scott
and the blizzard that finished him and party. If we had stayed in our
tent another day I don’t think we should have got under way at all, and
we would have shared the same fate. But if the worst comes we have made
up our minds to carry on and die in harness. If any one were to see us
on trek they would be surprised, three men staggering on with four
dogs, very weak; practically empty sledge with fair wind and just
crawling along; our clothes are all worn out, finneskoe and sleeping
bags torn. Tent is our worst point, all torn in front, and we are
afraid to camp on account of it, as it is too cold to mend it. We
camped for our grand lunch at noon. After five hours’ struggling I
think we did about three miles. After lunch sat in our tent talking
over the situation. Decided to get under way again as soon as there is
any clearance. Snowing and blowing, force about fifty or sixty miles an
hour.
“_February_ 26, _Saturday_.—Richards went out 1.10 a.m. and found it
clearing a bit, so we got under way as soon as possible, which was 2.10
a.m. About 2.35 Richards sighted depot, which seemed to be right on top
of us. I suppose we camped no more than three-quarters of a mile from
it. The dogs sighted it, which seemed to electrify them. They had new
life and started to run, but we were so weak that we could not go more
than 200 yds. and then spell. I think another day would have seen us
off. Arrived at depot 3.25; found it in a dilapidated condition, cases
all about the place. I don’t suppose there has ever been a weaker party
arrive at any depot, either north or south. After a hard struggle got
our tent up and made camp. Then gave the dogs a good feed of pemmican.
If ever dogs saved the lives of any one they have saved ours. Let us
hope they will continue in good health, so that we can get out to our
comrades. I started on our cooking. Not one of us had any appetite,
although we were in the land of plenty, as we call this depot; plenty
of biscuit, etc., but we could not eat. I think it is the reaction, not
only in arriving here, but also finding no news of the ship, which was
arranged before we left. We all think there has been a calamity there.
Let us hope for the best. We decided to have rolled-oats and milk for a
start, which went down very well, and then a cup of tea. How cheery the
Primus sounds. It seems like coming out of a thick London fog into a
drawing-room. After a consultation we decided to have a meal of
pemmican in four hours, and so on, until our weakness was gone.
_Later_.—Still the same weather. We shall get under way and make a
forced march back as soon as possible. I think we shall get stronger
travelling and feeding well. _Later_.—Weather will not permit us to
travel yet. Mended our torn tent with food-bags. This took four hours.
Feeding the dogs every four hours, and Richards and Hayward built up
depot. It is really surprising to find it takes two men to lift a
50-lb. case; it only shows our weakness. Weather still the same; force
of wind at times about seventy to ninety miles an hour; really
surprising how this can keep on so long.
“_February_ 27, _Sunday_.—Wind continued with fury the whole night.
Expecting every minute to have the tent blown off us. Up 5 o’clock;
found it so thick one could not get out of the tent. We are still very
weak, but think we can do the twelve miles to our comrades in one long