A First Rate Tragedy Read online

  Koettlitz had little in the way of real sickness to deal with, though he did carry out the first operation in Antarctica, removing a cyst from Royds’ cheek. The knives and pincers and scissors were assembled in the wardroom and ‘Cutlets’ attracted quite an audience for, as Bernacchi described, ‘the general reaction was one of pleasurable interest rather than sympathy for the unfortunate victim’. Scott’s own reaction is not recorded. However, given that he was highly strung enough to faint while awaiting news of whether his sister had safely given birth, it is unlikely he was one of the curious onlookers.

  Wilson was always at work, checking that the food and milk for breakfast were fresh, taking meteorological observations, directing teams of bird-skinners, writing up his zoological notes and of course working on his paintings. His technique was to make several sketches from different locations to work up at a later date. He worried, unnecessarily in the event, that the colours he used in his art which had to be completed under the harsh glare of acetylene or flickering candlelight would look strange when seen in daylight.

  At this early stage in their relationship Scott was already writing about Wilson with real warmth and affection, detecting and appreciating the qualities that would draw them yet closer. These qualities were recognized by others as well. Ford, one of the Discovery’s stewards, left this perceptive pen-portrait of Wilson:

  Dr Wilson combined with an essential manliness a sweetness of character unusual amongst men. Full of constant thoughtfulness for others, always sensitive to their peculiarities, never harsh to their weaknesses; temperamentally nervous himself, yet always setting an example of the highest courage; he was the bravest and most unselfish man I have ever known.10

  Bravery and selflessness were among the most essential qualities for survival on long sledging trips. As Scott observed, sledging drew men into a closer relationship than any other mode of life. He wrote that ‘In its light the fraud must be quickly exposed, but in its light also the true man stands out in all his natural strength’. During the winter months as he had pored over calculations of weights and measures and read everything he could find about Polar travel (though, as he himself noted, he had not actually brought many books on the subject) Scott had also been mentally reviewing who should accompany him south when daylight returned.

  He had originally contemplated taking Barne but decided against it because Barne’s hands had not recovered fully from frostbite. On deeper reflection Wilson seemed best fitted to endure the strains of such a journey. Though not physically the strongest, his medical expertise would be invaluable as would his intellect and capacity for work. Even more than that, Scott knew he would find comfortable companionship in a man who, like him, was at heart retiring and sensitive. It was therefore to Wilson that Scott turned on 12 June. Summoning him to his cabin he outlined his plans for the summer sledging parties, going over practical details like weights and rations. Then came the surprise. He wanted Wilson to accompany him on the journey south towards the Pole. He also wanted Wilson’s views on whether he should take a third. Nansen had travelled in the Arctic with just one companion, Johansen, in the interest of efficiency and simplicity. He proposed to do the same.

  Wilson was astonished and delighted to have been singled out. However, he urged Scott to take a third member of the party. What would happen if one man fell ill or had an accident? The other would never be able to cope alone and both would probably perish. Scott acknowledged this sound good sense and changed his mind. Knowing Wilson’s friendship for Shackleton, he picked the silver-tongued Irishman with the love of Browning. He did it to please Wilson, proof of the bond forming between them, but it was a decision he would regret.

  5

  ‘Poor Old Shackleton’

  On 22 August Scott and his men greeted the sun with an almost pagan enthusiasm: ‘We seemed to bathe in that brilliant flood of light, and from its flashing rays to drink in new life, new strength and new hope.’ It was a symbol of their mental and physical survival through the months of darkness. The mood was now one of excitement and energy as the ship’s sewing machine hummed incessantly, sledges were assembled, provisions weighed, dog-harnesses untangled, fur clothing overhauled. Yet, although they had come through the winter quite well, Scott remained painfully aware that he and his colleagues were novices. Vince’s death had shown the dangers of inexperience. It was Scott’s responsibility to make sure that from now on there were as few mistakes as possible and this weighed on him. The early sledging trips had proved that ‘sledging is not such an easy matter as might be imagined’ and that they had made many mistakes: ‘food, clothing, everything was wrong, the whole system was bad.’

  However, as he planned his campaign and calculated provisions, Scott had cause to believe that he had stamped his mark on the enterprise and his fellow explorers. There had inevitably been tensions, some of them stemming from the contradictions in his character, his reserve, highly strung and impatient temperament and occasional outbursts of temper. Clarence Hare later described how Scott could be ‘over sensitive and got wound up if things did not go as planned’ and that ‘being used to having his orders obeyed at the double in navy ships, the easygoing response of the Merchant Shipping men was the cause of . . . temper’.1 Fortunately, Wilson had shown a remarkable ability to smooth away the frictions inevitable when a group of men are cooped up in difficult conditions. Although not ‘clubbable’ like Shackleton, he had become the one to whom the others turned instinctively. Talking to ‘Uncle Bill’, as Wilson became known, was a safety valve for anyone with a worry or a problem. While the men of the Discovery on the whole admired Scott, they did not feel able to confide in him, perhaps fearing that he would take their problems as signs of weakness. He was hard on himself and so unlikely to be softer on others.

  Wilson’s view of Scott had clearly developed over the winter. In the early days Wilson had found him quick-tempered and impatient, but during the voyage down to Antarctica he had begun to understand the complex but admirable qualities of his leader, writing to his parents:

  He is thoughtful for each individual and does little kindnesses which show it. He is ready to listen to everyone too, and joins heartily in all the humbug that goes on. I have a great admiration for him, and he is in no Service rut but is always anxious to see both sides of every question, and I have never known him to be unfair. One of the best points about him too is that he is very definite about everything; nothing is left vague or indeterminate. In every argument he goes straight for the main point, and always knows exactly what he is driving at. There will be no fear of our wandering about aimlessly in the Southern regions.2

  Wilson was particularly gratified that Scott took his advice: ‘He has adopted every one of my suggestions. It’s a great help to have one’s ideas appreciated by a man who is always trying new and knacky things on his own . . .’3 An interesting comment given that Scott, in particular on his final expedition, has often been criticized for being autocratic and not innovative enough. Wilson also believed that over the winter he and Scott had come to understand each other better than anyone else on board despite one profound difference that would remain throughout their lives – the question of religious faith. Where Wilson believed and was serene, Scott doubted. He was still tormented by that old question, ‘What does it all mean?’, but he found Wilson’s certainty comforting. In the danger and uncertainty ahead Wilson’s inner peace would be a welcome resource.

  At this stage, though, Wilson would have described Shackleton rather than Scott as his friend. During the months of darkness Wilson had found himself increasingly drawn to Shackleton or ‘Shackles’. The Irishman’s charm and roguish good humour were irresistible to the quieter man. The two of them would climb Crater Hill to check the thermometer and they had spent hours in conclave over the pages of the South Polar Times. They had watched the return of the sun together, rejoicing in the ‘very grand golden sky’.4 However, Wilson worried about taking his friend on the Polar journey, doubting whether he was p
hysically strong enough. ‘Shackleton hasn’t the legs the job wants,’ he wrote, but loyalty prevented him from confiding in Scott.5 He knew it was Shackleton’s one ambition to go on the southern journey. Perhaps at the same time he was conscious that he had hardly been in top condition himself when Scott had agreed to take him on the expedition and that Shackleton should also be given the benefit of the doubt.

  Before the southern journey could begin there were many preparations to be made, including some trial runs with the sledges and the dogs. Scott made several journeys which if anything highlighted the problems they would face rather than provided any solutions. But there was a more immediate difficulty. Returning from one expedition in early October he found that three men who had been sledging on a reconnaissance trip westwards with Armitage were in a state of collapse due to scurvy. The symptoms were frightening and unmistakable – discoloured swollen limbs and spongy gums. Scott insisted the entire crew be examined and almost everyone displayed some signs of the disease. He noted approvingly that Armitage had consulted the doctors and, using his own previous Arctic experience as a guide, taken steps to remedy the situation by serving fresh seal meat, increasing the allowance of bottled fruits and taking the cook in hand. ‘I don’t know whether he threatened to hang him at the yardarm or used more persuasive measures, but whatever it was, there is a marked improvement in the cooking.’

  Armitage was later to claim that much of the fault lay at Scott’s door for relying too much on tinned food, largely because of ‘a sentimental objection to slaughtering seals in anything like the number requisite for the winter’s supply’.6 Whatever the case initially, Scott was now convinced that the answer lay in fresh food. A party ‘girt about with knives and other murderous implements’ went off to slaughter seals.7

  The change of diet did the trick and the southern journey was able to start on schedule. On 30 October Michael Barne led the supporting party of twelve men southward, manhauling. One of his sledges sported the message ‘No Dogs Admitted’ – the dog teams were being held back for the main party. Bad weather delayed the departure of Scott and his companions but they found solace in a plate of mustard and cress provided by Dr Koettlitz and grown to fight scurvy. On 2 November, a cold and windy day, they finally set out, cheered by a glass of champagne. Scott described how ‘every soul was gathered on the floe to bid us farewell . . .’

  Their little party of three men, nineteen dogs and five sledges was departing on the most daring journey yet made in Antarctica. For all its failings it would place Scott and Shackleton in the ranks of experienced Polar explorers. It would also show the dangers and uncertainties of travelling in this terrain and confirm Scott in a number of views, most of them shared by Shackleton, and some of which would ultimately prove fatal to him.

  The men knew that they might not return. All left letters of farewell – Scott to his mother, Shackleton to Emily Dorman and Wilson to his beloved Oriana. Wilson seems to have viewed the journey with mixed feelings. He hoped it would be more than ‘monotonous hard work on an icy desert’ and that he would find something worth sketching. Reflecting on the challenge ahead he wrote that when the day came when Polar exploration could be achieved by motor transport or flying machines it would lose its attraction for men like himself and his companions.

  At first they made good progress, flying over the ice like three Polar knights with their sledge pennants fluttering bravely and quickly catching Barne. The dogs cracked along at a fine pace, chasing away across the snow so that the three men had a struggle to keep up, but the weather soon began to play tricks. The snow became sticky, making the sledges harder to pull and blizzards held them captive in their tents. Shackleton found it irksome ‘to lie here using up our provisions and not getting on at all’.8 He would learn that this was a common experience in Polar travel. They were quite comfortable in their separate sleeping bags of reindeer skin, which gave them an important degree of privacy. As Wilson described: ‘Once inside your bag and toggled up with the flap over head and all, you feel quite comfortably apart from your companions.’ They read Darwin’s Origin of Species to pass the time. However, Wilson had something else to distract him. On just the fourth day out Shackleton started what the doctor described as ‘a most persistent and annoying cough’ – an ominous sign so early in the game.

  Travelling on they began to realize the psychological effect of travelling in a featureless terrain. The scenery became depressing – they emerged onto a great open plain on which they felt insignificant as ants. Scott remarked the terrible monotony of this monochrome world – grey skies, grey terrain, grey thoughts. Yet by 12 November their spirits were buoyed up by the fact that they had penetrated further south than Borchgrevink. On 15 November, when Barne and the supporting party turned back, the sunshine had returned and the photographs show them all posing cheerfully before parting.

  What was in Scott’s mind as he and his two companions now set out alone? He wrote: ‘We can but feel elated with the prospect that is before us,’ but it is uncertain exactly what Scott believed that prospect to be. He did not refer directly to the South Pole but it must have been tantalizing to know that if he reached it he would be made for life. The days of worrying about money and of having to ‘make do’ would be over and his career assured. Shackleton too must have speculated. Even more ambitious and less financially secure than Scott, perhaps, and certainly more optimistic and improvident, he must have calculated as he trudged southwards that victory at the Pole would secure him the wife he wanted and a vast deal more besides. During the winter he had acted the role of a successful traveller to the Pole being received by the crowned heads of Europe before an enthusiastic audience in the Royal Terror Theatre. Curiously, though, it was Wilson who made one of the most overt references to the ultimate goal, writing: ‘Our object is to get as far south in a straight line on the Barrier ice as we can, reach the Pole if possible, or find some new land . . .’ However, far too little was known about the conditions to predict with accuracy what would happen. Scott believed that the Barrier might run straight on to the Pole without coming to land, but who could tell?

  Problems began almost immediately. The dogs lost their initial burst of energy and were tiring rapidly. They had to be coaxed and bullied along, confirming Scott’s original view of their usefulness. Progress became so difficult that Scott decided to lighten the sledges by carrying the supplies forward in relays. In practice this meant that each sledge would now only carry half a load. When this had been deposited the men and dogs would return for the other half so that the number of miles they travelled was tripled. Relaying was very hard on the men – Shackleton complained that ‘the travelling is awful’9 and did not seem to help the dogs who continued to weaken. Scott and his companions were distressed that the only thing which had any effect on them was beating. Nansen had found it hard too, admitting that exploration in such harsh conditions demanded a ‘hard-hearted egotism’. The difference was that Nansen beat his dogs relentlessly while Scott was inconsistent, only ‘occasionally bringing the lash down with a crack on the snow or across the back of some laggard’. The dogs were almost human to him and he drew engaging pen portraits of them: ‘The general opinion of “Spud” was that he was daft – there was something wanting in the upper storey.’ Jim, on the other hand, was ‘a sleek, lazy, greedy villain, up to all the tricks of the trade’.

  In fact, the problems they were experiencing stemmed largely from something which could have been prevented – the dogs’ food. Scott had intended to take dog biscuits for them but had been persuaded, possibly by Nansen, that the best food was dried stockfish. However, on the long voyage out the fish had rotted. It was poisoning the dogs, who began suffering acute diarrhoea and passing blood. The progressive failure of the dogs put all three men under pressure. Shackleton was nominally in charge of them and it may have been his perceived failure that fuelled the resentment which seems to have built up between him and Scott during the journey. The extreme conditions, the cold and
the isolation, encourage men to brood and nurse grievances and Scott may have begun to wonder whether Shackleton was all talk and no substance. There is certainly evidence that their relationship deteriorated during the journey, exacerbated by their very different personalities.

  Wilson may have needed all his peacemaking skills to maintain a balance between his reserved and determined leader and the volatile Irishman. According to a story told twenty years later by a disillusioned Armitage, which he claimed came from Wilson but which is not recorded anywhere direct by any of the three participants:

  Wilson and Shackleton were packing the sledges after breakfast one morning. Suddenly they heard Scott shout to them ‘Come here you B.F.s.’ They went to him, and Wilson quietly said ‘were you speaking to me’. ‘No Billy’ said Scott. ‘Then it must have been me’ said Shackleton. He received no answer. Shackleton then said ‘Right, you are the worst B.F. of the lot, and every time that you dare to speak to me like that you will get it back.’10

  However, there were also moments of euphoria. On 25 November they crossed the 80th parallel and Scott wrote with prosaic understatement: ‘This compensates for a lot of trouble.’ Shackleton wrote in his diary of the delight of ‘finding out the secrets of this wonderful place’, while Wilson was enthralled by the magical light effects, the mock suns and snow crystals sparkling like gems, a pleasure which he shared with Scott whose own accounts are sometimes lyrical. Each man was in his own way falling under the Antarctic spell despite the hardships and the eerie silence when as Wilson wrote: ‘One could imagine oneself on a dead planet. Everything was so still and cold and dead and unearthly.’