Part 52 (1/2)
Next afternoon, the gale moderated sufficiently for us to go once more to David Island, in clearer weather, to see the outlook from the bluff.
This time the sun was s.h.i.+ning on the mainland and on the extension of the glacier past the bluff to the north. The distant southern slopes were seamed with a pattern of creva.s.ses up to a height of three thousand feet. To the north, although the way was certainly impa.s.sable for twelve miles, it appeared to become smoother beyond that limit. We decided to try and cross in that direction.
We persevered on the 24th over many lines of pressure-ice and then camped near an especially rough patch. Watson had the worst fall on that day, going down ten feet vertically into a creva.s.se before his harness stopped him. After supper, we went to locate a trail ahead, and were greatly surprised to find salt water in some of the cracks. It meant that in two days our descent had been considerable, since the great bergschrund farther south was well over three hundred feet in depth and no water had appeared in its depths.
A few extracts from the diary recall a situation which daily became more serious and involved:
”Monday, November 25. A beautiful day so far as the weather and scenery are concerned but a very hard one. We have been amongst 'Pressure,' with a capital P, all day, hauling up and lowering the sledges with an alpine rope and twisting and turning in all directions, with waves and hills, monuments, statues, and fairy palaces all around us, from a few feet to over three hundred feet in height. It is impossible to see more than a few hundred yards ahead at any time, so we go on for a bit, then climb a peak or mound, choose a route and struggle on for another short stage.
”We have all suffered from the sun to-day; Kennedy has caught it worst, his lips, cheeks, nose and forehead are all blistered. He has auburn hair and the tender skin which frequently goes with it....
”Tuesday, November 26. Another very hard day's work. The first half-mile took three hours to cover; in several places we had to cut roads with ice-axes and shovels and also to build a bridge across a water-lead. At 1 P.M. we had done just one mile. I never saw or dreamt of anything so gloriously beautiful as some of the stuff we have come through this morning. After lunch the country changed entirely. In place of the confused jumble and crush we have had, we got on to neve slopes; huge billows, half a mile to a mile from crest to crest, meshed with creva.s.ses...
”We all had falls into these during the day: Harrisson dropping fifteen feet. I received rather a nasty squeeze through falling into a hole whilst going downhill, the sledge running on to me before I could get clear, and pinning me down. So far as we can see, the same kind of country continues, and one cannot help thinking about having to return through this infernal mess. The day's distance--only one thousand and fifty yards.
”Wednesday, November 27. When I wrote last night about coming back, I little thought it would be so soon. We turn back to-morrow for the simple reason that we cannot go on any farther.
”In the morning, for nearly a mile along a valley running south-east, the travelling was almost good; then our troubles commenced again.
”Several times we had to resort to hand-hauling with the alpine rope through acres of pitfalls. The bridges of those which were covered were generally very rotten, except the wide ones. Just before lunch we had a very stiff uphill pull and then a drop into a large basin, three-quarters of a mile in diameter.
”The afternoon was spent in vain searching for a road.... On every side are huge waves split in every direction by creva.s.ses up to two hundred feet in width. The general trend of the main creva.s.ses is north and south....
”I have, therefore, decided to go back and if possible follow the road we came by, then proceed south on to the inland ice-cap and find out the source of this chaos. If we are able to get round it and proceed east, so much the better; but at any rate, we shall be doing something and getting somewhere. We could push through farther east from here, but it would be by lowering the gear piecemeal into chasms fifty to one hundred feet deep, and hauling it up on the other side; each creva.s.se taking at least two hours to negotiate. For such slow progress I don't feel justified in risking the lives of the party.”
Snow fell for four days, at times thickly, unaccompanied by wind. It was useless to stir in our precarious position. Being a little in hand in the ration of biscuits, we fed the dogs on our food, their own having run out. I was anxious to keep them alive until we were out of the pressure-ice.
From this, our turning-point out on the shelf-ice, the trail lay over eighteen inches of soft snow on December 3, our former tracks, of course, having been entirely obliterated. The bridged creva.s.ses were now entirely hidden and many weak lids were found.
At 9 A.M. Harrisson, Watson and I roped up to mark a course over a very bad place, leaving Kennedy with the dogs. We had only gone about one hundred yards when I got a very heavy jerk on the rope and, on looking round, found that Watson had disappeared. He weighs two hundred pounds in his clothes and the creva.s.se into which he had fallen was fifteen feet wide. He had broken through on the far side and the rope, cutting through the bridge, stopped in the middle so that he could not reach the sides to help himself in any way. Kennedy brought another rope over and threw it down to Watson and we were then able to haul him up, but it was twenty minutes before he was out. He reappeared smiling, and, except for a bruise on the s.h.i.+n and the loss of a glove, was no worse for the fall.
At 2.30 P.M. we were all dead-beat, camping with one mile one thousand seven hundred yards on the meter. One-third of this distance was relay work and, in several places, standing pulls with the alpine rope. The course was a series of Z's, S's, and hairpin turns, the longest straight stretch one hundred and fifty yards, and the whole knee-deep in soft snow, the sledges sinking to the cross-bars.
The 4th was a repet.i.tion of the previous day--a terribly hard two and a half miles. We all had ”hangman's drops” into creva.s.ses. One snow-bridge, ten feet wide, fell in as the meter following the twelve-foot sledge was going over behind it.
The 5th was a day of wind, scurrying snow and bad light. Harrisson went out to feed the dogs in the morning and broke through the lid of a creva.s.se, but fortunately caught the side and climbed out.
The diary again:
”Friday, December 6. Still bad light and a little snowfall, but we were off at ten o'clock. I was leading and fell into at least a dozen creva.s.ses, but had to be hauled out of one only. At 1.30 P.M. we arrived at the open lead we had crossed on the outward journey and found the same place. There had been much movement since then and we had to make a bridge, cutting away projections in some places and filling up the sea-water channels with snow and ice. Then Harrisson crossed with the aid of two bamboo poles, and hauled me over on a sledge. Harrisson and I on one side and Kennedy and Watson on the other then hauled the sledges backwards and forwards, lightly loaded one way and empty the other, until all was across. The shelf-ice is without doubt afloat, if the presence of sea-water and diatomaceous stains on the ice is of any account. We camped to-night in the same place as on the evening of November 25, so with luck we should be out of this mess to-morrow.
Switzerland had to be killed as I cannot afford any more biscuit.
Amundsen ate his flesh without hesitation, but Zip refused it.”
Sure enough, two days sufficed to bring us under the bluff on David Island. As the tents were being pitched, a skua gull flew down. I snared him with a line, using dog's flesh for bait and we had stewed skua for dinner. It was excellent.
While I was cooking the others climbed up the rocks and brought back eight snow petrels and five eggs, with the news that many more birds were nesting. After supper we all went out and secured sixty eggs and fifty-eight birds. It seemed a fearful crime to kill these beautiful, pure white creatures, but it meant fourteen days' life for the dogs end longer marches for us.
Fresh breeze, light snow and a bad light on the 9th; we remained in camp. Two more skuas were snared for the evening's dinner. The snow petrels' eggs were almost as large as hens' eggs and very good to eat when fresh. Many of them had been under the birds rather too long, but although they did not look so nice, there was little difference in the taste. I was very glad to get this fresh food, as we had lived on tinned meat most of the year and there was always the danger of scurvy.
The light was too changeable to make a satisfactory start until the evening of December 11, when we managed to dodge through four and a half miles of broken ice, reaching the mainland close to our position on November 16, and camping for lunch at midnight. In front was a clear mile on a peninsula and then the way led across Robinson Bay, seven miles wide, fed by the Northcliffe Glacier.
Another night march was commenced at 8 P.M. The day had been cloudless and the sun very warm, softening the surface, but at the time of starting it was hardening rapidly. Crossing the peninsula we resolved to head across Robinson Bay as the glacier's surface was still torn up. We ended with a fine march of twelve miles one thousand two hundred yards.