Much of this ignorance and its associated problems could have been resolved by including an experienced dog-driver on the expedition, although Markham certainly would not have given that his blessing. Never the less, even without such an individual, spending more time learning the skills through the winter would have been beneficial. This, with the advantage of hindsight, Bernacchi noted years later:
competitions in making camp, including all the multifarious duties to be performed in a tiny tent before toggling down for the night, might advantageously have taken the place of moonlight football matches during the comparative idleness of the winter, and competitions in dog-driving would have taken the keen edge off our ignorance of that most important accomplishment.
Thus, on 2 September, when Scott led the first of a series of short sledging journeys designed as practice for the longer trips, Shackleton still had not gained any particular expertise. This was not only due to the unsuitability of his disposition for the assignment and the short time period, but because he had continued to carry out his usual scientific and editing duties, as well as attempting to be an inventor. Throughout July and August, with the assistance of Barne and the ship's carpenter, Shackleton secretly planned and constructed a new mode of Antarctic transport: his 'rum cart'. This was a sledge consisting of two rum barrels serving as large wheels under the front and back ends of a frame designed to carry a load. When he conducted his first public tests, the result provided great amusement for the ship's company, which 'scoffed unmercifully'.
Meanwhile, Shackleton's too-obvious pleasure at being selected for the southern journey was annoying his messmates, particularly Royds and Skelton. 'While they are preparing, the ward-room becomes a simple nursery,' Skelton wrote. 'Shackleton "gassing" & "eye-serving" the whole time, - ponderous jokes flying through the air . . . of course the Skipper's ideas are on the whole perfectly right. . . but. . . why he listens to Shackleton so much beats me, - the man is just an ordinary "gas-bag".'
Several weeks later Scott and Shackleton were out on their final depot-laying trip when Skelton's assessment was proven wrong Shackleton and his merchant marine colleague Armitage clearly understood something that had escaped the Royal Navy officers and their surgeons. And that something was a matter of life and death.
Although the suffering it had caused went back much further in time, scurvy had become one of the most feared killers in the maritime world when Europeans first engaged in long-distance ocean voyages in the late fifteenth century. In the intervening 400 years, many people had discovered how to prevent or cure scurvy, but always it had reappeared, confusing the medical profession and making its practitioners incorrectly reassess its cause. Thus, the history of exploration saw scurvy appear again and again.
It is known today that scurvy is a deficiency disease brought about by a lack of vitamin C (ascorbic acid). It is characterised by swollen and bleeding gums with loosened teeth, soreness and stiffness of the joints and lower extremities, bleeding under the skin and in deep tissues, slow wound healing and anaemia. However, a century ago vitamins were unknown and theories relating to the cause and prevention of scurvy were in a state of pandemonium.
There had long been anecdotal evidence - and even a limited amount of scientific data - linking the cure for scurvy to fresh vegetables or fruit, particularly oranges and lemons. Despite a continuing litany of theories about its cause, the most effective treatment in the early nineteenth century had been the issuing of lemon juice, which had virtually eliminated the scourge from the Royal Navy. However, in the 1840s the Admiralty replaced Mediterranean lemons with West Indian limes for the preparation of the juice. Unfortunately, the new fruit had only a fraction of the vitamin C of its predecessor, causing a mysterious reappearance of the disease. The question of scurvy in the polar regions was further confused because native peoples - and some explorers managed to live scurvy-free on a diet with few fruits or vegetables but much fresh meat (which is a source of vitamin C).
In the years immediately before the departure of Discovery, a new theory was popularised, stating that if meat was not properly preserved, micro-organisms would contaminate it and would chemically change the albumen, fat and carbohydrates to ptomaines (alkaloid chemical products reported to be poisonous). Moreover, before the meat had gone so bad as to be repugnant to the senses, the bacteria could produce the ptomaines; thus it was slightly tainted meat, and not the meat that was obviously bad, that caused scurvy.
Although there was abundant evidence that scurvy could not simply be related to tainted meat, this theory received the support of Lord Lister, the president of the Royal Society, who had achieved fame for studies involving bacterial contamination during surgical operations. Following Lister's lead, Scott, Wilson and senior expedition surgeon Reginald Koettlitz accepted the ptomaine theory. Indeed, shortly before sailing, Koettlitz wrote: 'The benefit of the so-called anti-scorbutic is a delusion . . . That the cause of the outbreak of scurvy in so many polar expeditions has always been that something was radically wrong with the preserved meats, whether tinned or salted is practically certain. An animal food is scorbutic if bacteria have been able to produce ptomaines in it . . . otherwise it is not.' The safeguard on the expedition, therefore, was to examine every tin of meat before it was used.
Armitage, on the other hand, had noted on the Jackson-Harmsworth Expedition that the crew of the ship had suffered from scurvy, but the members of the land-party had not; the latter ate large amounts of fresh polar bear meat. Armitage made the assessment that fresh meat would ward off the disease, so he asked Scott to have fresh seal served regularly. Shackleton, too, although without Armitage's practical experience, believed in the value of fresh meat as a preventative and, as the officer in charge of stocks, attempted to have it provided for the men daily.
Unfortunately, Scott did not totally concur, and fresh seal meat was served only two or three times per week. Even that did not help as much as it might have, as Charles Brett, the dirty, foul-tempered cook, prepared it in such a way that virtually no one would eat it. When the lack of fresh meat was combined with tinned fruit and vegetables that had lost much of their vitamin content in the canning process - and more when cooked by Brett - the men's supply of vitamin C slowly ran down throughout the winter.
In late September, Armitage returned from a two-week excursion in the mountains of Victoria Land with, he feared, half his party suffering from scurvy. He proved correct: the problem that had its beginnings at Hut Point had been exacerbated because the sledging ration was based to a great extent on pemmican. This was an item originally prepared by Cree Indians, who pounded dried strips of meat into a paste, mixed it with fat and berries, and then pressed it into small cakes. Pemmican had been adopted as an easily transported food by French voyageurs and British traders in the North American sub-Arctic and, later, as the main sledging ration for the Royal Navy's polar expeditions. British-produced pemmican, however, had eliminated the fruit and had become a concentrated mixture of dried meat and fat or lard, and therefore was virtually devoid of vitamin C. It was a form of this that had been ordered for the Discovery Expedition.
The main meals of the sledging parties consisted of 'hoosh'. This was a thick, soup-like concoction made by melting the pemmican with water, and adding bits of hard biscuits fortified with gluten. For flavouring, the hoosh could also contain bacon, cheese, pea flour, sugar or oatmeal, and other sledging rations included chocolate, cocoa and tea.
When Armitage returned, Scott was still on a sledging trip, as was Koettlitz. But when Wilson confirmed that scurvy was showing in all six men, Armitage sprang into action. He ordered that fresh seal meat be served to all hands each dinner, that lime juice be placed on the mess tables, that porridge and meat be served at breakfast, and that extra bottled fruit, potatoes and vegetables be supplied. He also called in Brett and, with a combination of explanation, threat and bribery, encouraged him to serve food in a palatable manner in the future. The change in the cook was instantaneous, and Ar
mitage's programme quickly improved the health of the men.
When Scott and Shackleton returned to Hut Point on 3 October 1902, the captain continued the procedures Armitage had initiated, as well as cancelling all use of tinned meat and ordering a massive disinfecting of the ship. Further, in order to improve the health of those comprising the sledging parties, he postponed the date of departure for the southern journey. Because of this, and also due to changes in Armitage's proposed journey, there would not be as many members in the southern support party, nor would they or the southern party itself stay out as long as originally planned. They would, it appeared, be unlikely to reach the Pole. Never the less, the southern journey remained the highlight of the expedition, and everyone waited anxiously for its start.
In later years, Armitage would recall the changes wrought in Shackleton during this period, and would express no reservation about what the driving force was for them. 'Several times during the winter in the South he would amuse us by pretending he had been to the Pole,' he wrote, 'and how he was received by all the crowned heads in Europe, and by all the principal Societies.' But those around him could see Shackleton becoming a different man. 'He was greatly influenced by the romance of his engagement and marriage,' Armitage continued. Emily 'was, no doubt, mainly responsible, together with the life of open spaces, in raising him from a rather dreamy, ambitious boy, with no settled ideas, to a man of strong character.'
And it was of Emily that Shackleton thought until the final moments before he left on the journey south. On 30 October, Barne led the support party toward the Barrier to the cheers and, for the first several miles, with the escort of a number of the ship's company, for whom the occasion had been declared a holiday. The next day was supposed to be the final one before the southern party departed, and Shackleton perhaps facing his mortality, perhaps realising even more than usual her value - wrote a letter to Emily that was to be read only if he did not return.
Beloved I hope you may never have to read this, but darling loved one if it comes to you, you will know that your lover left this world with all his heart yours my last thoughts will be of you my own dear Heart. Child I am carrying your little photo with me South and so your face will be with me to the last: Child remember that I am your true lover, that you and you alone have been in my heart and mind all this time. Beloved do not grieve for me for it has been a man's work and I have helped my little mite towards the increase of knowledge. Child there are millions in this world who have not had this chance. You will always remember me my own true woman and little girl. I cannot say more my heart is so full of love and longing for you and words will not avail. They are so poor in such a case. Child we may meet again in another world, and I believe in God, that is all I can say, but it covers all things: I have tried to do my best as a man the rest I leave to Him, and if there is another world and He wills it we shall find each other. I feel that there must be. This cannot be the end, but I do not know, I only believe from something in me. Yet again I cannot tell if there is, I hope. Child you will comfort those at home. Know once more that I love you truly and purely and as dearly as a woman can be loved. And now my true love goodnight.
This letter shows not only Shackleton's grammatically eccentric, stream-of-consciousness writing style, but a very typically Victorian dominance of the man, as demonstrated by his regular mode of address to Emily as 'Child' - despite she being six years older than he. This would last throughout their life together, although he would always remain equally dependent upon her emotionally. The letter also reflects his desire to comfort the woman he loved, as there is little doubt that by this time Shackleton had minimal belief in God and saw no practical use in organised religion. His assurances to Emily were designed to soothe and console rather than to express the kind of belief that was apparent in the writings of Wilson. In this, Shackleton was closer to Scott, about whom Wilson had commented, 'Only once have we got on religious subjects, but I soon found that his ideas are as settled in one direction as mine are in another, and our only agreement was that we differed.'
But any similarity of religious view between Scott and Shackleton was to prove an irrelevancy on the harsh journey on which they were about to depart. It was to be the differences that were more significant. Indeed, that Scott, a physically relentless, self-willed, impatient man with a remarkably inquiring mind beneath his Royal Navy rigidity, should have selected as his confrere someone so entirely contradictory to him as Shackleton is the epitome of irony. Not since Richard Burton had taken John Hanning Speke as his companion to Lake Tanganyika had such an ill-matched selection occurred. For, although subordinate to him, Shackleton was in no way servile to Scott. Indeed, he was the very reverse, and this in the end was the problem: instead of a follower, Scott found a rival.
The journey that ignited this rivalry finally got underway on 2 November 1902. Following photographs being taken of the 'three polar knights', they were off in a burst of speed, glory and excitement, sledging flags waving in the wind. The dogs made such light work of the loads for the first several miles that everyone seeing them off had to trot to keep up and, ultimately, men had to sit on the sledges to slow them down.
Late that afternoon the efficiency of dogs was demonstrated when the threesome caught up with Barne's man-hauling party. For the next several days the two parties, working on different schedules, passed and were passed by each other. But it was not until the third day that Scott and Wilson donned the skis they had brought, which Wilson found a great relief for his aching knees and hamstrings. At about the same time, Wilson complained of a nasty cold, which he evidently passed on to Shackleton, who began to suffer from a 'most persistent & annoying cough'.
On 10 November, after a day Scott, Wilson and Shackleton spent in the tent impatiently awaiting the end of a blizzard, they reached Depot A, the stockpile of food that had been cached at the southern extent of an earlier journey. Two days later, the entire party of fifteen camped at a more southerly latitude than anyone had previously reached Borchgrevink's record had been broken. The next morning, half the support party turned back and, on 15 November, Barne began the return to the ship with the others.
The excitement of finally being on their own on the open way south did not last long for Scott and company. Scott had recorded the dogs were 'pretty done', and the poor creatures did not improve when Barne departed, the three men and their team making only three miles. The next morning the dogs could not even get the loads moving and, according to Scott, 'after a few yards of struggling seemed to lose all heart, and many looked round with the most pathetic expression as much as to say we were really expecting too much of them.' Faced with a problem they did not understand how to resolve, the men decided the only alternative was the back-breaking task of relaying.
Although Scott and his companions have been criticised for not comprehending why the efficiency of the dogs suddenly failed just when they lost the support party, the answer was actually due to a complex combination of reasons. Most importantly, no one understood dogs or dog-driving. The animals had not been efficiently used from the beginning, being harnessed in a single team to a long train of sledges rather than being divided up into several teams, each pulling fewer sledges with a more efficient system of traces. Then, with the sudden acquisition of the supplies that had been hauled by the support party, the men were asking the dogs to pull far more than people more conversant with their abilities would have done. In addition, there was now no one to break the way for the dogs, which pull much more willingly and efficiently if there is a path to follow. As Scott and his companions would realise in the days ahead, the dogs' diet - like their own - was not sufficiently nourishing to allow for optimum work. Scott also suspected that a change in the surface conditions had made the sledges harder to pull.
Thus, for the next thirty-one days the party had to relay: moving half of the supplies forward before returning for the rest, gaining only one mile for every three travelled. During this time the men joined the dogs in the tra
ces, which exhausted them. Despite this, the dogs did not perk up, 'losing all their spirit', according to Scott, and making 'as much fuss over drawing the half load as a few days before they had done over the whole one'. Progress to the south diminished to only four to six miles daily, and the high hopes for a historic southern record began, as Scott noted, 'steadily melting away'.
There were also other problems. Scott, Wilson and Shackleton were still inexperienced with skis, and particularly with their use in hauling sledges, and subsequently did not use them to full advantage. It has been noted that at this same time Otto Sverdrup, high in the Canadian archipelago, was demonstrating the relationship between skiing and the use of dogs for sledging. Although Sverdrup made major advances on this front, his lessons had not yet reached the outside world, so it is unfair to damn Scott for lacking such knowledge. However, it is clear that, with some preparation, Scott and his companions could have been more efficient. In 1897 Sir Martin Conway - who the previous year had achieved the first crossing of Spitsbergen - had returned to the Arctic, where he learned to ski. 'The common idea in England is that the art of using ski is very difficult of acquisition,' Conway wrote in his expedition account, which was brought south on Discovery. 'This . . . is a mistake.' Despite never before having seen skis, Conway travelled through the glaciers and mountains of Spitsbergen on them, pulling a sledge. 'Without ski,' he wrote, 'progress in any direction would have involved intolerable discomfort and labour.'
Then again, just completing the day-to-day tasks of life on the Barrier - such as pitching camp - was excessively difficult and unpleasant. When the three men stopped in the evening, they first unfastened all of the gear from the sledge. One man crawled inside the unfixed tent and opened out the legs, while another pulled the corners out the correct distance and piled snow on them to anchor it down. With these secure, the inner man organised the floor cloth, which was not an integral part of the tent, while the outer man placed snow all around the foot. The third man, meanwhile, unpacked the sledge, filled the cooker with snow for melting and put fuel in the lamp.
Shackleton’s Forgotten Expedition Page 11
