Scott of the Antarctic Page #4

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And two cold sides side by side

are not right sides, one side decides

If you decide to side with that side,

turn the top side fur side inside

Then the cold side, hard side, skin side

is beyond all question inside out

Well done that man! Well done that man!

Well done, Bowers!

When the snow lay round about

Deep and crisp and even

Brightly shone the moon that night

Though the frost was cruel

When a poor man came in sight

Gathering winter fuel

Christopher, you're a toad.

Well, you're in good form, Soldier.

How about these fellows?

Not too dusty, considering.

Will they get us

across the Barrier in the spring?

Can't say yet.

There's one or two

I'm a bit worried about.

Nobby's all right.

And so is James Pigg.

Old Jehu, I'm not so sure.

This fellow Amundsen,

can he do it, do you think,

just with dogs?

Can't say, Soldier, can't say.

These Norwegians are better

with dogs than we are and...

our using these chaps

means making a later start.

His base is 80 miles nearer the Pole,

but he'll be crossing unknown country.

Seems to me it all depends on whether

he finds another way up to the plateau.

It's just a matter of luck.

But they're tough people, Soldier.

No doubt about that.

'It's glorious to stand bathed

in brilliant sunshine once more.

'The future is in the lap of the gods.

'I can think of nothing left undone

to deserve success.'

- Come along, Crean.

- Just a minute, sir.

Hurry up, Ponko.

- Hurry up, Teddy.

- Aye, aye, sir.

Right, Lashly. Let's have another go.

Right-oh, Teddy.

Good luck. Right-oh, Day.

Come on, the Baltic Fleet.

'The slowest ponies first

'with Atkinson, Wright, Keohane.'

Birdie!

'Bowers, Crean, Cherry-Garrard.

'Evans with Snatcher.

'Evans is a tower of strength,

as sound and as hard as ever.

'Wilson with Nobby.

'Oates with Christopher,

'the biggest handful of the lot.

'And myself with Snippetts.'

Good luck!

'16 men all told.

'Four days out, all ponies going well.'

Mush! Mush!

Mush! Mush!

'There's nothing like Antarctic air

for sharpening the appetite.

'We're always ready

for our mug of pemmican hoosh,

'followed by tea or cocoa.'

Here you are, Stareek.

Hampstead!

"Just a heap of metal in the snow."

There's still the other one.

I hope so, Bill. I certainly hope so.

I'm afraid that's it, sir.

Well, we'll just have to man-haul

our load till the others catch us up.

'Both motors have fallen out.

'Now all depends on the ponies.'

Whoa, back!

Whoa, Christopher! Whoa, back!

'We've taken to marching

by the midnight sun,

'so that the ponies get rested

at the warmest time of the day.'

Sir, I've been totting up

on the hay we have aboard.

Is none of them ponies coming back?

Afraid not, Crean.

Soon meat, Stareek.

Much meat.

Fresh meat.

'We are now more than halfway

to the glacier,

'but it's still rather touch and go

with the ponies.'

There it is.

Hey, Teddy!

Teddy!

Sir.

Congratulations.

150 miles since the motors let you down.

- Well done, the lot of you.

- Thank you.

Will they manage it, Soldier?

Shall we get them as far as the glacier?

Old Jehu's about done, I'm afraid.

Still, he's paid his way.

It's strange, but when I write to Oriana,

I can see so clearly

the place the letter's going to.

I mean, where she is.

But her face itself is always misty.

Yes.

Yes, I know what you mean.

When I try to see Kathleen

there's always some feature

I can't quite get.

Very odd that. I feel just the same

about an old horse of mine.

I can see the paddock all right,

but can't get the old chap's muzzle.

Well, this is as far as we go together.

- Thank you, Day. Thank you, Hooper.

- Thank you, sir.

- Goodbye.

- Good luck, sir.

- Good luck.

- Thank you, sir.

- Don't forget the letters, Day.

- No, sir.

- Ready?

- Right.

- Goodbye, you fellows.

- Goodbye.

Jehu.

Atch.

'The blizzard has lost us

five days already

'and we are now

well behind Shackleton's time.

'We must get the ponies on

a little further.'

We can't be far from the glacier now,

but wherever we are, this is the finish.

Crean.

Birdie!

Now, Christopher, old man.

Look!

Well, they did it.

I congratulate you, Titus.

And I thank you, Titus.

The glacier tomorrow, Bill.

- Dimitri?

- Sir?

Here's the mail.

Goodbye and good luck.

Goodbye, sir.

Good luck.

- Goodbye, Dimitri.

- Goodbye, Ruski.

- Good luck, boy.

- Dos vedanya!

Mush! Mush!

Well, goodbye, Meares.

Have a good run home.

Thank you, sir,

and the best of luck to you.

Thanks.

Mush!

Goodbye, sir.

Goodbye, Mother Meares.

'12 men with three sledges, man-hauling.'

Brandy, Uncle Bill? What's this for?

The use of that, my dear Titus,

is purely medicinal.

Kindly hand it to me.

'We've climbed 4,000 feet.

'We've been toiling for five days

but are barely halfway up.

'Surely we were right

not to bring the dogs on.'

Halt.

That way.

Aye, aye, sir.

Ready? Heave.

Ready?

Heave.

Birdie?

Better leave a flag here.

Seems to be a good way up.

Aye, aye, sir.

See that nunatak?

That's what Shackleton called

Buckley Island.

Top of the glacier, sir?

Yes, that's right. Our last big climb.

At this rate, sir, we should be at the top

in time for our Christmas dinner.

That's right, Lashly.

Merry Christmas is the word.

Take the strain, Crean.

Toss him a line, Birdie.

- You all right, Lashly?

- Yes, sir.

Sure to be. It's my birthday too.

Many happy returns, Lashly.

Right, Birdie.

Right, Crean. Bowline.

Heave.

Bowline.

Taff, caramel?

Thank you, sir.

- Con?

- Thank you, Bill.

- Atch?

- Thank you, Uncle Bill.

Soldier, you're a marvel.

Well, Christmas comes but once a year.

Christmas comes and Atch goes, eh?

Yes, worst luck.

Thank you.

Pemmican and pony?

How do you do it, Titus?

Perfectly simple.

Been giving you short rations all week.

Oh!

- Well, it was worth it.

- Thank you, sir.

Atch.

Yes?

What do you have to have

to be given brandy?

Leprosy.

Plague.

Or just an ordinary fit.

- Fit, eh?

- Hm.

- Er, more, sir?

- Oh, thanks.

- Oh, sorry, sir.

- That's all right, Atch.

We are a bit crowded in here tonight.

We ought to eat by numbers.

- Don't put too much faith in numbers.

- Carry on, Evans.

- Story coming.

- Well, hardly a story exactly, sir.

But I remember

when we was at Whale Island,

we had a PO gunnery instructor.

He was on one of them guns

with the new-fangled breech action.

Good, but tricky.

You had to press the button

near the breech with your left thumb

and then whang in the block

with your right hand.

Trouble was,

some on the course gets so excited,

they gets the movements

too close together.

In goes the block

and off comes the top of their thumb.

This PO gets tired of seeing

a lot of people wandering about

with no tops to their thumbs

and he calls the class together

and he says, "Now, listen,

you flat-footed soldiers.

"Let's have no more of this.

"I'll demonstrate the drill

to you slowly, by numbers.

"One, I opens the breech.

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