Today forlorn hope. The blizzard still rages. Wilson and Bowers discussing going to depot for fuel.
Nothing I can do but write letters.
This is to Vice-Admiral Sir George le Clerc Egerton, KCB:
My Dear Sir George,
I fear we have shot our bolt—but we have been to the Pole and done the longest journey on record.
I hope these letters may find their destination some day.
Subsidiary reasons for our failure to return are due to the sickness of different members of the party, but the real thing that has stopped us is the awful weather and unexpected cold towards the end of the journey.
This traverse of the Great Barrier has been quite three times as severe as any experience we had on the summit.
There is no accounting for it, but the result has thrown out my calculations, and here we are little more than 100 miles from the base and petering out.
Goodbye. Please see my widow is looked after as far as Admiralty is concerned.
R. Scott.
My kindest regards to Lady Egerton. I can never forget all your kindness.
Hardest of all are the ones to my loved ones. James Barrie (you know him from Peter Pan) is Peter's Godfather.
My Dear Barrie,
We are pegging out in a very comfortless spot. Hoping this letter may be found and sent to you, I write a word of farewell....More practically I want you to help my widow and my boy—your godson. We are showing that Englishmen can still die with a bold spirit, fighting it out to the end. It will be known that we have accomplished our object of reaching the Pole, and that we have done everything possible, even to sacrificing ourselves in order to save sick companions, I think this makes an example for Englishmen of the future, and that the country ought to help those who are left behind to mourn us. I leave my poor girl and your godson, Wilson leaves a widow, and Edgar Evans also a widow in humble circumstances. Do what you can to get their claims recognized. Goodbye. I am not at all afraid of the end, but sad to miss many a humble pleasure which I had planned for the future on our long marches. I may not have proved a great explorer, but we have done the greatest march ever made and come very near to great success. Goodbye, my dear friend,
Yours,
R. Scott.
W are in a desperate state, feet frozen, etc. No fuel and a long way from food, but it would do your heart good to be in our tent, to hear our songs and the cheery conversation as to what we will do when we get to Hut Point.
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