blue of a clear sky: unexpected, unforetold and fatal. The cold itself
was not so tremendous until you realize that they had been out four
months, that they had fought their way up the biggest glacier in the
world in feet of soft snow, that they had spent seven weeks under plateau
conditions of rarefied air, big winds and low temperatures, and they had
watched one of their companions die--not in a bed, in a hospital or
ambulance, nor suddenly, but slowly, night by night and day by day, with
his hands frost-bitten and his brain going, until they must have
wondered, each man in his heart, whether in such case a human being could
be left to die, that four men might live. He died a natural death and
they went out on to the Barrier.

Given such conditions as were expected, and the conditions for which
preparation had been made, they would have come home alive and well. Some
men say the weather was abnormal: there is some evidence that it was. The
fact remains that the temperature dropped into the minus thirties by day
and the minus forties by night. The fact also remains that there was a
great lack of southerly winds, and in consequence the air near the
surface was not being mixed: excessive radiation took place, and a layer
of cold air formed near the ground. Crystals also formed on the surface
of the snow and the wind was not enough to sweep them away. As the
temperature dropped so the surface for the runners of the sledges became
worse, as I explained elsewhere.[345] They were pulling as it were
through sand.

In the face of the difficulties which beset them their marches were
magnificent: 111/2 miles on February 25 and again on the following day:
12.2 miles on February 27, and 111/2 miles again on February 28 and 29. If
they could have kept this up they would have come through without a
doubt. But I think it was about now that they suspected, and then were
sure, that they could not pull through. Scott's diary, written at lunch,
March 2, is as follows:

"Misfortunes rarely come singly. We marched to the [Middle Barrier] depot
fairly easily yesterday afternoon, and since that have suffered three
distinct blows which have placed us in a bad position. First, we found a
shortage of oil; with most rigid economy it can scarce carry us to the
next depot on this surface [71 miles away]. Second, Titus Oates disclosed
his feet, the toes showing very bad indeed, evidently bitten by the late
temperatures. The third blow came in the