Joanna Grochowicz - Into the White: Scotts Antarctic Odyssey

First published by Allen & Unwin in 2017

Copyright Text, Joanna Grochowicz 2017

Copyright Illustrations, Sarah Lippett 2017

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or ten per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to the Copyright Agency (Australia) under the Act.

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ISBN 978 1 76029 365 9

eISBN 978 1 92557 689 4

Teachers notes available from www.allenandunwin.com

Cover and text design by Joanna Hunt

Cover and text illustrations by Sarah Lippett

For Honey

CONTENTS

While it would be historically accurate for Scott and his men to log their distances in miles, elevation in feet, weight in pounds and temperatures in degrees Fahrenheit, I have decided to use metric conversions for the modern readers ease of comprehension.

If youre into happy endings, youd better look elsewhere. This story does not end well. This is a story where men die, and their dreams of greatness die with them. But it is a fine story and one that is worth telling, from heroic beginning to tragic end.

Robert Falcon Scott lost everything in March 1912 in a tent on the Ross Ice Shelf. With his friends dead at his side, Scott reflected on his failed mission to be first to reach the South Pole and his inability to lead a small group of men back to safety. His own death was a matter of hours away, but his name would live on for more than a hundred years.

Most people hear the name Robert Falcon Scott and think of him in that tent on the brink of death. Some consider him a fool, an arrogant and rigid Royal Navy captain who believed in doing things a particular way even when hardship was the result. At the time he was remembered as a tragic hero, a steadfast leader who faced his untimely end with the dignity of a true English gentleman. Nowadays we appreciate Scotts humanity, his curiosity and his eagerness to learn from others.

Scott can still fill a room today. People flock to photographic exhibitions and to auction houses where odd remnants of his ill-fated Terra Nova expedition are sold to the highest bidder. The story of Scott, of how he tried and died, is well known. But what of the Terra Nova expedition itself? Who can tell you of the daring and adventurous men who sailed south with Scott, their story of bravery, hardship, discovery and survival, and their love and admiration for their leader? As it turns out, not many.

This is the story of the Terra Nova expedition and the memorable characters who, with a band of shaggy ponies and savage dogs, followed a man they trusted into the unknown.

SOUTHERN PACIFIC OCEAN DECEMBER 1910

Herbert Ponting groans. Its not easy developing photographs on board a ship that is rolling up and down like a fairground ride. The ocean swell has been building in size for several hours but its the added side-to-side motion that the photographer finds so difficult to stomach. The photographic chemicals slosh about in the developing baths. Thankfully the small table is bolted to the floorboards. Gripping the edge of it, Ponting steadies himself and squeezes his eyes shut. Try as he might, he cant block the fearful sound of the wind, howling through the rigging. He wonders how the sails will ever hold to the ships masts. As keen as he is to continue in his task, he has to stop. Cupping his hand over his mouth, Ponting fumbles for the basin. Again, the stench of vomit fills the small cabin.

What madness drove him to sign up for this treacherous voyage to Antarctica? Ponting wishes himself back to New Zealand and the sunshine of Port Chalmers, where crowds of well-wishers jostled on the jetty. It was such a cheerful summer sight, with the flotilla of local boats bobbing about in the wake of the heavily laden Terra Nova as she made her way along the coast. That was a mere two days ago. And now this stomach-turning ordeal to endure.

Up on deck, the men take turns to pause in their duties and retch over the railing. Theyve long since emptied their guts but the seasickness gripping them all refuses to pass. It would be easy to curl into a ball and focus on feeling awful. Instead they follow their orders like good Royal Navy men without complaining many of them have seen worse.

The sea is almost black. It heaves up and over the deck of the Terra Nova like an enormous animal eager for its supper. The horizon disappears as the ship plunges between two rollers. With the ship lurching up again, the men brace themselves for another wind-blown wave to slam into their side. At least keeping watch, tending to the animals and hauling sails can be done in the fresh air. The poor blighters shoveling coal in the engine room are sure to be surrounded by a right pong.

Down in the galley, the cook, Clissold, is preparing a meal that nobody will want to eat. Hes feeling as ghastly as everybody else, and the smells of his own cooking in the windowless space are almost unbearable.

Why am I even bothering? he says loudly to the pots and pans that clash together every time the ship grinds up a wave and down the other side.

After the years hes spent at sea, Clissold still finds foul weather a trial. He feels hemmed in below decks, where every available space is packed tight with provisions. Boxes of biscuits and cans of meat and vegetables, a butter mountain, enough flour and sugar for an army, 162 frozen mutton carcasses, two whole frozen cows. Then theres all the other stuff loading the poor ship down the pre-fabricated hut for their camp on the ice, 462 tonnes of coal, 3 tonnes of ice, enough paraffin to burn for a year, and crates upon crates of delicate scientific equipment. Clissold shakes his head when he thinks of everything that needs to stay afloat on the ocean. If only he could see whats happening outside, he might feel better. Or worse.

Scott peers out the porthole at the turbulent ocean. He misses his wife and son keenly, wondering why hes traded them for this mad caper. Kathleen. Little Peter. Dear little Peter, who will have to celebrate two birthdays without his father. Scott knows that this sense of regret will pass. It did last time. Three years he was gone. But how beautiful his wife looked upon his return.