Two days later, they were well off course when Shackleton spotted one of the mounds they had built. They changed direction immediately. It was extremely lucky because when the party reached Grisi Depot, at 82°39/S, they were again virtually without food. They feasted that night on pemmican and meat hoosh, and had a special celebration for the birthday of Shackleton's son Raymond.
The next day was a different matter, however. All four were hit with 'Grisi's Revenge', which Marshall attributed to a combination of the meat being bad because the pony had been killed in such an exhausted state, and the inability to cook it long enough due to a lack of paraffin. 'The horse flesh probably had a Vitamin C value,' he later wrote, 'countered no doubt by the severe enteritis which resulted, and 13 motions in 24 hours was recorded for one of the party.' Despite abandoning their creaky, damaged sledge for the one they had used to mark the depot, they were not able to make effective progress, covering only five miles before camping.
The morning of 4 February was beautiful, calm and sunny, yet not so warm that it affected the snow. Under normal conditions it would have been perfect for pulling. Instead, the men lay moaning in a camp that Marshall described as looking like a battlefield, all four down with acute diarrhoea. 'My pyjama trousers and shirt tail sacrificed,' Marshall noted, but Wild had greater concerns:
It would not be so serious if we had plenty of food, but as it is we have not sufficient to take us to the next depot. . . and there we have only a small supply, so we shall be hungry all the way to the Bluff. . . and if this illness does not prove short, we shall never get there.
Wild's comment said it all. The next morning, despite Marshall and Adams still being unwell, they stumbled ahead, knowing that to stop would mean their lives. For the next two days fine weather helped them make a slow but sure advance, and they reached the latitude from which Shackleton had turned back with Scott. Then on 7 February a strong wind from the south filled the sails on their sledge and propelled them north at a rate they had thought impossible in their weakened condition. They made better than twelve miles, a figure equalled the following day when Marshall was slightly better. 'Chewed meat tonight,' he wrote, clearly pleased, 'but did not swallow.'
It was now a question of Nature's temperament. Any advance was a struggle, and a blizzard from any direction other than the south would have left them marooned in their tent. That would mean the end. But although the wind howled and the drift swirled past them, it continued to come from behind, and with their sail at full mast, day after day they pushed across the Barrier. 'God is good,' Wild wrote after the four skeletons somehow accounted for more than twenty miles. But the rugged explorer's total exhaustion was shown by his addition of: 'My greatest desire now seems to be to sit on the hearth-rug at Mother's feet and be petted, I feel so tired and hungry.'
At lunch the next day their supplies were so short that when Marshall spilled his cocoa, he carefully spooned it up from the floor cloth before returning that to its position as sail. Two days after that, they pulled into their depot at 8i° 04'S, once again having run out of food. 'Lunched making splendid gravy with frozen blood dug up from slaughter house,' Marshall noted. Chinaman had made another notable contribution to their endeavour, and that night they thanked him by eating the whole of his liver 'boiled in fat. Gravy added. Very tender & tasty.'
But once again an adequate meal was to be followed by virtual starvation rations. And again no allowance had been made for dire weather or losing direction. They could only keep moving and praying for fine, clear weather. Remarkably, they got it. Two days after they left the depot, on Shackleton's birthday, they had a miserably hard pull with no wind but a good surface. They were totally spent that night but realised how fortunate they had been. 'We have a great deal to be thankful to the Almighty for,' Wild wrote, 'had the surface been the same as it was when we came down, we should all now be dead without a doubt.' With little that they could give The Boss on his birthday, the three others each found enough shreds of tobacco to make a thin cigarette for him.
At some point that week, Wild expressed what was perhaps the ultimate trust in and regard for his leader. One night Shackleton asked him if he would join him on another attempt at the Pole. It was only little more than a week before, on 5 February, the day after they were all kept in camp with dysentery, that Wild had given notice of his unwillingness ever to return to the frozen regions. 'This trip has completely cured me of any desire for more Polar exploration,' he had written, 'a good fire and a full tummy for me in the future.' But with Shackleton actually asking the question, his decision changed. 'So great was my regard for the "Boss" that without any hesitation I replied "Yes!" We then went on to discuss details.' Considering their lives were in the balance, the conversation was bizarre in the extreme. But at least it gave some variation from all of their other thoughts and discussions: it was not about food.
On 20 February the haggard party kept its record perfect by arriving at Depot A, at 79°36/S, without enough food left for a full meal. They were greatly appreciative of the new supplies - feasting on pemmican, biscuit, cocoa and a blackcurrant pudding made with a pound of Hartley's jam - but it says a great deal that although obsessed with their stomachs they no longer stressed in their diaries the lack of supplies for the future. It had now simply become a reality of life.
During the past days their spirits had risen as they had begun to see familiar landmarks. On 18 February Mount Discovery had reared her head, and the next day Mount Erebus. Then, the day after they left Depot A, the Bluff came into view. Somewhere out there, to the east of it, was the final depot. It was, they calculated, four days away, and they had picked up four days' food, 'not full, but much more than we have been having'.
Shortly after beginning their march, the temperature crashed to — 35°. 'We are so thin that our bones ache as we lie on the hard snow in our sleeping-bags,' Shackleton wrote. But it was not just at night - a blizzard that under normal conditions would have kept them in their tents froze them during the day as well, although it also contributed to achieving a splendid advance. 'Distance speaks for itself,' Marshall laconically wrote after the first of two twenty-mile days. Their progress was so good that, believing they would easily find Joyce's depot, they increased their food. Somewhere, on the fringes of their minds, undoubtedly lurked the knowledge that it was a distinct possibility the depot had never in fact been laid. But if so, their stomachs must have responded, they were doomed anyway.
But in a moment such worries were set aside. On 22 February they suddenly came across the tracks of a party of four men, with dogs. It must be Joyce! All they had to do was follow the tracks to the depot. Later in the day there was even better news, as at the remains of a camp left by this other party there were tins different than those of the original stores - the ship must have arrived! They found three small bits of chocolate and a scrap of dog biscuit and drew lots for them. 'I was unlucky enough to get the bit of biscuit,' wrote Shackleton, 'and a curious unreasoning anger took possession of me for a moment at my bad luck. It shows how primitive we have become.'
That night they camped only twelve miles from where they assumed the depot must be, and the next morning, in anticipation, they wolfed down virtually all their remaining food. Then they headed for the depot - but it did not appear. The day drew on, and after more than four hours they began to worry. Had they without due consideration cheerfully finished off the rest of their food, just to be abandoned by Providence? They could only continue to follow the tracks, which were, in fact, not leading them to their stores. Then, around midday, as Marshall was taking a bearing, Wild caught sight of the depot flag, far off 'and only raised into view above the horizon by the accident of a mirage'.
The lesson still not learned, they immediately devoured their few remaining biscuits and headed for the depot. It was not as near as they had thought, and it was not until 4.00 p.m. that they finally arrived at the black flag flapping in the breeze. 'Good old Joyce,' wrote Wild, expressing the thoughts of all.<
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Their worries about starvation had ended. Joyce had left not only crates of essentials, but delectable titbits that the men had not seen for months. 'Carlsbad plums, eggs, cakes, plum pudding, gingerbread and crystallised fruit,' Shackleton listed in delight. After more than a thousand miles of want and hunger, they had all they could eat and more - but they gave it their best effort not to let it be more. They were eventually sated, but each took back to his sleeping bag a selection of sausages, chocolates, jams and other dainties.
But as their dreams of food ended, another nightmare began. It was now the night of 23 February, and Shackleton had left instructions with Murray saying that if they did not return by 1 March the ship could leave. Yes, three men and supplies were to remain at Cape Royds, but neither Shackleton nor his comrades wished to spend another year in the Antarctic under those conditions - the added time and the necessity of an extra relief expedition would take the lustre off their accomplishments. There were only six days left - five if the ship left first thing in the morning - days that could still mark the entire expedition with the stamp of failure.
Four men buoyed, rather than weighed down, by unusually heavy stomachs marched north from Bluff Depot the next day. On the way out, it had taken them more than a week from Hut Point to reach where they now were, and they planned to take a longer route, going farther east to avoid the crevasses near White Island. They had no time to waste. Although they were dragging a heavier load than previously, they now did not notice it as much, and that day they advanced fifteen miles.
At 4.00 the following morning, they awoke to begin a long day. But it was not to be the sort of day for which Shackleton hoped. On going into the other tent for breakfast, he found Marshall prostrate with cramps and dysentery. After all of the bad pony meat and the changes of diet for four months, the doctor had been knocked for six by a 'generous dose of a well-known brand of birthday cake deposited at Bluff Depot'. As if Marshall's reaction to the Fortnum d>c Mason cake purchased in honour of Brocklehurst's twenty-first were not enough, any thoughts of trying to travel anyway were laid to rest by a blizzard that rumbled in from the west and settled near Minna Bluff. For the whole day they were tent-bound.
Shackleton now contented himself with thoughts that he had occasionally mentioned to his colleagues. He had a solution for everything, even for what to do if they missed the ship. There was a whaleboat at Cape Royds, one of the first items landed the previous summer. In that, he said, they would sail to New Zealand. It would only take a month or two, and such a marvellous journey in an open boat would give them tales to tell for years. It was an idea he would not forget.
Meanwhile, soon after midnight the blizzard blew itself out, and the party was up and away. They pounded ahead relentlessly, not camping until almost 11.00 p.m., having made twenty-four miles. 'Marshall suffered greatly, but stuck to the march,' Shackleton recorded with admiration. 'He never complains.' Virtually before they were asleep, they were up again - it was 4.00 a.m. - and then off, continuing their dash. They made good progress until 4.00 p.m. when Marshall suddenly collapsed.
With the best will in the world, Shackleton could wait no longer. It was late on 27 February, Nimrod might sail within thirty-six hours, and they were still thirty-three miles from Hut Point. They pitched camp and, leaving Marshall in the care of Adams, he and Wild stormed off north, taking nothing except a compass, sleeping bags and food. Years later, Wild remembered what happened next:
After we had covered a mile, Shackleton stopped & grasping my hand said 'Frank old man, it's the old dog for the hard road every time.' He & I were then 3 5 years of age & the two we had left behind were under thirty.
In all my experience I have found the man of 30 to 40 a better stayer than the younger man. In a short strenuous spurt, as in a football or boxing match the young man wins, but when it comes to days, weeks, & months of solid toil & hardships the older man invariably beats the youngster.
Now it was time for them to prove it. With only a brief dinner stop, they ploughed ahead over a hard surface until 2.00 a.m. Near the northeast corner of White Island they tried to get some rest but could not sleep, so they hit the road again an hour and a half later. By late morning they were still on the go, having long since finished the carelessly inadequate amount of food that Adams had packed for them. At least, they told themselves, they would finish their journey as it had been spent starving.
The final stages of their march now became a reprise of their entire journey - the gruelling placing of foot before foot, the insatiable hunger, the battling through the endless blanket of snow and the unimaginable mental strain. Throughout the day Shackleton kept flashing a heliograph hoping to catch the attention of anyone at Observation Hill, but he received no response. What did it mean? At 2.30 in the afternoon - after spending most of thirty-six hours on the move, they saw open water in the distance: the ice had broken out four miles south of Cape Armitage.
The two men continued on, dreading their alternatives, and then suddenly, at 4.00, Nature threw her last mean-spirited twist at them: the sky was blotted out, a ferocious wind picked up, and a blizzard blew heavy drift every which-way, slicing their vision to a matter of feet. With little warning, they arrived at the ice edge. Their road was cut off.
Shackleton now had a choice: a shorter way to the hut over the ice via Pram Point, or a longer but more secure detour around Castle Rock. It was late on 28 February and even a small loss of time could mean missing the ship, but despite this and concern about Wild's freezing feet, Shackleton's judgement in a crisis did not falter. As he felt the uninviting swaying of the ice edge, he turned towards the longer route. They abandoned the sledge and headed for an area normally avoided: one of pressure ridges and deep crevasses to the east of Castle Rock.
At 8.00 p.m. Shackleton and Wild stumbled and floundered through the labyrinthine tangle of scree and loose snow around Castle Rock towards the 'lowlands' of Hut Point. The last several hundred yards were the worst, as they realised Nimrod was not there, nor were there any inhabitants of the hut. Where was everyone? Could they be at Cape Royds? Could they find help for Adams and Marshall, and, indeed, themselves?
The answers came in the form of a letter nailed to a window of the hut. The ship, it declared, would shelter under Glacier Tongue until 26 February; there was no more about her plans. Shackleton scanned the letter again, and then again, only to confirm that, despite other information, there was no further mention of her, suggesting that after 26 February she would sail. It was now the night of 28 February. As Shackleton and Wild stood in front of the hut, they were hit with the realisation that, despite all of their efforts, Nimrod had gone.
21
RESCUE
All polar explorers were not blessed with Shackleton's understanding of the dangers of crossing sea ice, and on 3 January - while two sets of men struggled towards their respective poles - JEneas Mackintosh and three companions dropped over the side of Nimrod to take the post to Cape Royds. It was a journey that was 'only' twenty-five miles across the ice.
That the ship was anywhere in the vicinity might have been surprising to some. Joseph Kinsey, Shackleton's New Zealand agent, and Herbert Dorman, Emily's brother and the expedition solicitor, had found it no easy task to raise money for repairs and supplies necessary for Nimrod to return south. However, despite the carping of the press, there remained goodwill in abundance for Shackleton in New Zealand. The shipyard of M.J. Miller eventually took on the repairs, with a certain amount of credit being key to the agreement. In the ensuing months, the hull was caulked; the rudder, propeller and tail shaft overhauled; and the living quarters extended into the aft hold.
The other major change was in command, and here Sir James Mills of the Union Steam Ship Company again produced the goods - as before in the form of Frederick Pryce Evans, a tall, exacting Welsh-born New Zealander who had commanded Koonya when she towed Nimrod to the ice. Formidable, self-reliant, and accustomed to having his own way, Evans was now master of the expedition
ship, and his officers were the same as when Nimrod previously went south, including Mackintosh, complete with glass eye.
When Nimrod departed Lyttelton on 1 December 1908, the farewell saw hundreds of well-wishers, bands and cheering crews of naval ships, a repeat in miniature of what had occurred when Shackleton had left eleven months before. Shortly after passing HMS Powerful, a twelve-year- old stowaway was discovered under one of the bunks. Evans was having no such nonsense, and a signal was sent to a launch trailing behind. The boy was transferred, and the relief expedition steamed on.
Two days later, the wind being favourable, the propeller was disconnected and the ship proceeded under sail in order to preserve coal. When, on 20 December, the ice pack was seen, the propeller was reconnected and the ship returned to steam. Slow progress through the pack was followed by an effort to reach King Edward VII Land, but, as before, heavy ice prevented a close approach. On 30 December they turned west toward Ross Island to collect the shore party.
It was, however, much earlier in the season than when Nimrod had previously visited McMurdo Sound, and ice extended all the way to Beaufort Island, some ten miles north of Ross Island. For two days Evans worked slowly through tightly packed pieces of screwed and hummocky ice before being stopped by an extensive, solid field twenty-five miles north of Cape Royds.
Then began one of the most ill-considered parts of the entire expedition. On the morning of 3 January Mackintosh and three sailors left the ship for Cape Royds. By lunchtime, pulling a heavy sledge complete with tent, sleeping bags, cooking kit, food and large postbag leading seaman James Paton was 'done up'. Mackintosh sent him back to the ship with AB Sidney Riches, while he and Thomas McGillion, a twenty-three-year-old ship's trimmer, depoted fifty pounds of supplies and continued. They were slowed by bad ice and camped shortly after 7.00 p.m. The next morning, they came to a wide lead of water separating them from the island. A return to the ship was soon stopped, however, when the appearance of killer whales in an area over which they had walked showed it had broken open. As a vast section of ice began to float out to sea, it was only with the greatest luck and hours of back-breaking efforts that the pair managed to pull the sledge from floe to floe and through huge patches of slushy decaying ice to where a small piece of glacier ice formed a bridge to the land. 'We were on terra firma!' wrote Mackintosh. 'None too soon, for fifteen minutes later there was open water where we had gained the land!'
Shackleton’s Forgotten Expedition Page 32
