December 9. Nobby had all my biscuits last night and this morning, and by the time we camped I was just ravenously hungry. It was a close cloudy day with no air and we were ploughing along knee deep…. Thank God the horses are now all done with and we begin the heavy work ourselves. [Dr. Wilson's Journal.]
Note 22, p. 339.—December 9. The end of the Beardmore Glacier curved across the track of the Southern Party, thrusting itself into the mass of the Barrier with vast pressure and disturbance. So far did this ice disturbance extend, that if the travellers had taken a bee-line to the foot of the glacier itself, they must have begun to steer outwards 200 miles sooner.
The Gateway was a neck or saddle of drifted snow lying in a gap of the mountain rampart which flanked the last curve of the glacier. Under the cliffs on either hand, like a moat beneath the ramparts, lay a yawning ice-cleft or bergschrund, formed by the drawing away of the steadily moving Barrier ice from the rocks. Across this moat and leading up to the gap in the ramparts, the Gateway provided a solid causeway. To climb this and descend its reverse face gave the easiest access to the surface of the glacier.
Note 23, p. 359.—Return of first Southern Party from Lat. 85° 72 S. top of the Beardmore Glacier.
Party: E. L. Atkinson, A. Cherry-Garrard, C. S. Wright, Petty Officer
Keohane.
On the morning of December 22, 1911, we made a late start after saying good-bye to the eight going on, and wishing them all good luck and success. The first 11 miles was on the down-grade over the ice-falls, and at a good pace we completed this in about four hours. Lunched, and on, completing nearly 23 miles for the first day. At the end of the second day we got among very bad crevasses through keeping too far to the eastward. This delayed us slightly and we made the depot on the third day. We reached the Lower Glacier Depot three and a half days after. The lower part of the glacier was very badly crevassed. These crevasses we had never seen on the way up, as they had been covered with three to four feet of snow. All the bridges of crevasses were concave and very wide; no doubt their normal summer condition. On Christmas Day we made in to the lateral moraine of the Cloudmaker and collected geological specimens. The march across the Barrier was only remarkable for the extremely bad lights we had. For eight consecutive days we only saw an exceedingly dim sun during three hours. Up to One Ton Depot our marches had averaged 14.1 geographical miles a day. We arrived at Cape Evans on January 28, 1912, after being away for three months. [E.L.A.]
Note 24, p. 364.—January 3. Return of the second supporting party.
Under average conditions, the return party should have well fulfilled Scott's cheery anticipations. Three-man teams had done excellently on previous sledging expeditions, whether in Discovery days or as recently as the mid-winter visit to the Emperor penguins' rookery; and the three in this party were seasoned travellers with a skilled navigator to lead them. But a blizzard held them up for three days before reaching the head of the glacier. They had to press on at speed. By the time they reached the foot of the glacier, Lieut. Evans developed symptoms of scurvy. His spring work of surveying and sledging out to Corner Camp and the man-hauling, with Lashly, across the Barrier after the breakdown of the motors, had been successfully accomplished; this sequel to the Glacier and Summit marches was an unexpected blow. Withal, he continued to pull, while bearing the heavy strain of guiding the course. While the hauling power thus grew less, the leader had to make up for loss of speed by lengthening the working hours. He put his watch on an hour. With the 'turning out' signal thus advanced, the actual marching period reached 12 hours. The situation was saved, and Evans flattered himself on his ingenuity. But the men knew it all the time, and no word said!
At One Ton Camp he was unable to stand without the support of his ski sticks; but with the help of his companions struggled on another 53 miles in four days. Then he could go no farther. His companions, rejecting his suggestion that he be left in his sleeping-bag with a supply of provisions while they pressed on for help, 'cached' everything that could be spared, and pulled him on the sledge with a devotion matching that of their captain years before, when he and Wilson brought their companion Shackleton, ill and helpless, safely home to the Discovery. Four days of this pulling, with a southerly wind to help, brought them to Corner Camp; then came a heavy snowfall: the sledge could not travel. It was a critical moment. Next day Crean set out to tramp alone to Hut Point, 34 miles away. Lashly stayed to nurse Lieut. Evans, and most certainly saved his life till help came. Crean reached Hut Point after an exhausting march of 18 hours; how the dog-team went to the rescue is told by Dr. Atkinson in the second volume. At the Discovery hut Evans was unremittingly tended by Dr. Atkinson, and finally sent by sledge to the Terra Nova. It is good to record that both Lashly and Crean have received the Albert medal.
Note 25, p. 396.—At this point begins the last of Scott's notebooks. The record of the Southern Journey is written in pencil in three slim MS. books, some 8 inches long by 5 wide. These little volumes are meant for artists' notebooks, and are made of tough, soft, pliable paper which takes the pencil well. The pages, 96 in number, are perforated so as to be detachable at need.