These topics were further addressed in a pair of letters that Shackleton now received in quick order from Scott. The first was written in haste and more than a little anxiety, as Scott, now a captain and commanding HMS Alhemarle, had been involved in 'a horrid accident the other day when we ran into HMS Commonwealth off the coast of Portugal.' He indicated not only that he had plans to return to the Antarctic, but that 'I feel I have a sort of right to my own field of work in the same way as Peary claimed Smith's Sound and many African travellers their particular locality.'
The second letter, written shortly thereafter, enlarged on Scott's hopes for going south, his need to remain in active naval service - 'I support my mother & family, it is therefore essential for me to have an assured income' - and the necessity of keeping his plans secret until the time was right for him to approach the Admiralty about further Antarctic leave. He also again claimed prescriptive rights to McMurdo Sound: 'I don't want to be selfish at anyone's expense and least of all at that of one of my own people but still I think anyone who has had to do with exploration will regard this region primarily as mine.'
Scott then appealed to what he saw as Shackleton's duty to his former commander. '[I]t must be clear to you now that you have placed yourself directly in the way of my life's work - a thing for which I have sacrificed much and worked with steady purpose . . . If you go to McMurdo Sound you go to winter quarters which are clearly mine . . . I do not like to remind you,' he wrote, doing just that, 'that it was I who took you to the South or of the loyalty with which we all stuck to one another or of incidents of our voyage or of my readiness to do you justice on our return.'
One can realise in hindsight that these were perhaps not the best arguments to use on Shackleton. He, too, had a family to support, and he did not have the security of falling back on half pay as did a naval officer. Moreover, to claim prescriptive rights for the exploration of an entire region was absurd, as even Scott's examples proved. Peary's claim to the rights of a region had never been taken seriously by most Arctic experts, particularly since he followed a course in which he had been preceded by expeditions under Charles Francis Hall, George Strong Nares and Adolphus W. Greely; Peary had even made use of Greely's hut. And dozens of expeditions towards the interior of Africa had begun in Zanzibar or Bagamoyo without anyone ever claiming rights to those as bases.
But it was undoubtedly Scott's insistence about his closeness with the members of his party that grated most with Shackleton. He remembered too clearly being sent home against his will. He recalled the embarrassment following Scott's lecture of November 1904 at the Albert Hall, when the impression passed on by the Daily Mail was that he had to be carried on the sledge for 150 miles on the return from the farthest south. That this was his inference had been denied by Scott, but that did not remove the stigma. And Shackleton certainly had felt humiliated in October 1905 when, in The Voyage of the 'Discovery', Scott had placed on record that Shackleton had had to be carried on the sledge on 21 and 30 January 1903. This weakness had long mortified Shackleton, but what made it intolerable was what he would have seen as the faithlessness of the reporting. On the former date there was no reference to the fact, that, as Wilson recorded, 'Shackle at first was walking in harness, but we made him sit on the after sledge and break its pace with a ski pole, as the sledges were going too fast for us.' Similarly, on the latter date, Scott wrote in his book that 'Our invalid . . . was so exhausted that we thought it wiser he should sit on the sledges, where for the remainder of the forenoon, with the help of the sail, we carried him.' In contradiction, Wilson had recorded, 'He has been very weak and breathless all day, but has stuck to it well and kept up with us on ski.'
Such issues must have been in Shackleton's mind when he responded to Scott that he would give his letter 'very earnest consideration', but that Scott's wishes were not the only ones to be considered: 'I think my desires were as great if not greater than anybody else's to return seeing that I was cut off by a premature return to this country from further participating in the expedition.' Shackleton also had to take account of the expectations of those financing him: 'Naturally, I would like to fall in with your views as far as possible without creating a position that would be untenable to myself in view of the arrangements already made.'
With two such strong personalities in basic disagreement, here were the makings of a collision, as each wanted the other to withdraw, and neither seemed likely to do so. The situation also appears to have been exacerbated by the machinations of Markham. 'I am very glad to hear that you have succeeded in raising the funds for an expedition,' he wrote to Shackleton, adding, 'any advice or help I can give will be at your service.' But showing that retirement had not dulled his Machiavellian nature, he then wrote to Scott: 'I feel very indignant that he [Shackleton] should have treated you with such duplicity. He has behaved shamefully, and it grieves me more than I can say that an expedition which worked with such harmony throughout, should have had a black sheep . . .'
Markham's attitude could have done nothing but encourage Scott's initial beliefs that Shackleton was attempting to forestall him in a most unworthy manner. It also probably helped embolden Scott's arguments for his priority in the use of McMurdo Sound. Although these claims to the rights to an entire region might seem preposterous, he did honestly feel that he had a mission there. It is clear from his books that he wanted not only to establish geographical marks but to accomplish a symbolic act of conquest for the British Empire and, through overseeing careful scientific investigations, to resolve significant questions about the functioning of the world. Although a product of a Royal Navy system that could be stifling intellectually, Scott could at times transcend that background due to a simple, absorbing curiosity in things new and different.
Yet Shackleton could no more divorce himself from Antarctica than Scott. It was not simply that they had suffered there too much to put the frozen lands out of their lives. For Shackleton there were far more significant reasons: the Antarctic would not only provide the struggle that was such an important component of his being, it would also satisfy his fundamental restlessness. Neither of these, perhaps, was a conscious reason for his desire to go south, but there were other motives that clearly were, including proving that he was worthy of Emily, achieving fame and, he hoped, gaining a fortune. There was also the simple thrill of discovery, about which he said to his sister Kathleen, 'I don't want to race anyone, but you can't think what it's like to walk over places where no one has been before.'
Like Scott, Shackleton also wanted to achieve greatness for Britain, and he concluded a letter to Emily soon after announcing his expedition with the heart-felt postscript, 'I am representing 400 million British subjects.' A similar love of nation was felt by explorers throughout the world. In the midst of Africa, the French explorer Jean-Baptiste Marc-hand demonstrated an identical worship of his fatherland when he wrote:
Don't go and think . . . that I'm exaggerating the role we're playing here . . . It is always respectable when it has for a motive the task of reminding this country of its true greatness, of its mission in the world, begun nearly 20 centuries ago, the mission which we all have the unavoidable obligation of continuing on pain of being guilty of national cowardice.
Shackleton could not have said it better. Finally, there was the simple but overwhelming desire to prove himself, to re-establish his manhood, to show that he should not have been sent back home. And to satisfy those goals, Shackleton was prepared to put up with anything, even the prospect of death itself.
A scene was thus set for a struggle of the wills that likely would have benefited neither explorer. But into the picture came a mediator, a man seemingly able to pour water on to Scott's raging fire and oil on to Shackleton's troubled waters at the same time. Not surprisingly, it was Edward Wilson.
Shackleton showed remarkable self-control in his response to Scott, not only in what he wrote, but in that he sent the letter to Wilson to read first, then pass on to Scott. Virtually immediat
ely Shackleton had a response that must have shocked him. 'Now Shackles - I think your position is quite clear,' Wilson wrote on 28 February. 'I think you ought to retire from McMurdo Sound . . . it largely diminishes your prospects of a big or the biggest success. But I do wholly agree with the right lying with Scott to use that base before anyone else.' Ignoring that Scott's expedition did not have financial backing nor was even 'scheduled' for two years, Wilson continued: 'I think that if you go to McMurdo Sound & even reach the Pole - the gilt will be off the gingerbread because of the insinuation which will almost certainly appear in the minds of a good many, that you forestalled Scott who had a prior claim to the use of that base.'
This argument may not seem logical by today's standards, but Wilson had a strong emotional influence over his friend. Therefore, on 4 March Shackleton sent a cable to Scott stating, 'Will meet your wishes regarding base please keep absolutely private at present as certain supporters must be brought round to the new position.' And with this, a similar communication to Keltie, and an official announcement on 8 March stating that he would seek a base in King Edward VII Land, to the east of the Great Ice Barrier, Shackleton thought that one major issue had been resolved. He could not have been more wrong.
Within days he received a message from Wilson advising him not to make any new plans until he had heard from Scott 'what limits he puts on his rights. I have asked him to write to you as soon as possible to tell you his views as regards other possible bases.'
Shackleton was having no more of this chivalric tomfoolery, which was totally one-sided to boot. 'I do not agree with you, Billy, about holding up my plans until I hear what Scott considers his rights,' he dashed back.
There is no doubt in my mind that his rights end at the base he asked for . . . I will not consider that he has any right to King Edward the Seventh's Land, and only regard it as a direct attempt to keep me out of the Ross quarter if he should even propose such a thing. I have given way to him in the greatest thing of all, and my limit has been reached . . . You know as well as I do that I have given up a certainty almost for a very uncertain base as regards the ultimate success of the Pole . . . I consider I have reached my limit, and I go no further.
Two weeks later, Shackleton continued to stand his ground, when he wrote firmly to Scott:
I have been ready, as you realise to meet you as regards McMurdo Base. I realise myself what I have given up in regard to this matter. Concerning the 170 Meridian West as a line of demarkation . . . I must tell you quite frankly that my agreement to this proposition might perhaps make a position untenable to me on my Southward journey and that I do not see my way, at the present moment, to accede to this. I also consider that the unknown land or the disputed land of Wilkes is free to anybody who wishes to explore that part . . . I do not desire to trouble you with further correspondence . . . in May we can finally discuss matters.
Those discussions finally happened in person when Scott returned from sea in May. But to Shackleton's chagrin, his former commander continued to push for the i70°W meridian - far to the east in the Ross Sea region - as a dividing point for the two expeditions. And now Scott had the unqualified backing of Wilson, who had, in late March, accepted an invitation to go south with him, on the understanding that he would not be available until the end of 1908. One might think that such an agreement would have cast Wilson out as a fair arbiter, but he never the less continued to play a 'mediating' role in the debate. It has been indicated that Wilson virtually dictated the final terms of the agreement between Scott and Shackleton, and whether that is accurate or not, such a declaration was signed by Shackleton on 17 May. It stated, in part:
I am leaving the McMurdo Sound base to you, and will land either at the place known as Barrier Inlet or at King Edward VII Land whichever is the most suitable, if I land at either of these places I will not work to the westward of 170 meridian W. and shall not make any sledge journey going W. of that meridian unless prevented when going to the South from keeping to the East of that meridian by the physical features of the country.
I shall not touch the coast of Victoria land at all.
If I find it impracticable to land at King Edward VII Land or at Barrier Inlet . . . I may possibly steam north, and then to the westward and try and land to the west of Kaiser Wilhelm II Land . . . This meridian is about 80 E.
I think this outlines my plan, which I shall rigidly adhere to, and I hope that this letter meets you on the points that you desire.
Scott must have viewed the document with enormous pleasure. After months of a wheedling campaign that would have made Markham proud, he had gained virtually exactly what he wanted, and Shackleton had forfeited, among other things, even an attempt at the South Magnetic Pole, one of the essential elements of his expedition. It is still an almost inconceivable episode in the history of Antarctic exploration: that Scott and Wilson had ultimately bullied Shackleton into accepting this extraordinary agreement. It was a promise that should never ethically have been demanded and one that should never have been given, impacting as it might on the safety of Shackleton's entire expedition. It was to the eternal discredit of each of them, although most of all to Scott and Wilson.
Never the less, the agreement had been made. In the short term it meant that Shackleton could return unmolested to his preparations. In the long run it would have far-reaching consequences for all of them.
10
NIMROD
Although negotiations with Scott had undoubtedly comprised the most soul-destroying of the tasks in which Shackleton was involved during the first half of 1907, they were not the only preparations he had to make. Previously the expedition had existed only in his head; now it had to spring to life in little more than half a year.
Shackleton needed an identifying name for his enterprise, and he quickly settled on the proud, promotional and over-generous 'British Antarctic Expedition, 1907'. He then opened an office at 9 Regent Street, at the edge of Waterloo Place, in London's 'Clubland'. He engaged a business manager named Alfred Reid, who had assisted previous polar ventures, and set to work compiling the thousands of items and sorting out the multitude of details for the expedition.
One of Shackleton's first steps - as it had been for Scott half a dozen years before - was to consult Fridtjof Nansen, the man acknowledged as the sage regarding all aspects of travel in the polar regions. Everything about Nansen - from his austere, forbidding demeanour to his formidable intellect to his unrivalled success on the ice of the far north marked him as a giant. He had exploded on to the world scene almost two decades before when he had led the first crossing of the Greenland ice cap. On this, he had proved beyond doubt the value of skis to polar exploration, demonstrating that they would function at high altitude and on a wide variety of snow and ice. He also improved their design, as well as developing a sledge that became the prototype of those used since: lighter, more flexible and running on skis. Additionally, he made innovations in clothing, tents and cooking equipment, including the 'Nansen cooker', a saucepan that conserved heat and fuel.
In 1893 Nansen left on his greatest journey. He had hypothesised the existence of a current that could carry a ship across the Arctic basin. To test this, he needed a vessel that could not be crushed in the ice, so he engaged the shipbuilder Colin Archer to construct a small, rounded ship that he named Fram (Forward). Her sides were angled to prevent the ice from getting a firm hold on the hull; thus, when the ice closed in, rather than nipping her, it raised her out of the water. Nansen and his companions then disappeared into the mysterious regions north of Siberia. In February 1895 Nansen and Hjalmar Johansen left Fram drifting with the ice to dash for the North Pole. They reached 86°i4'N, 170 miles farther north than had previously been attained, then made a dramatic retreat over the ice. Nansen's subsequent return to civilisation, the day after Fram reached Norway, made him the darling of the press world-wide, a man described as 'the most eminent explorer ever known'.
A decade later, when Shackleton visited Nansen, t
he older man was living in London, serving as the Minister to the Court of St James for the newly independent Norway. But his mind, like Shackleton's, was on the far south. His life's goal had never truly been the north; Nansen had always wanted to reach the South Pole.
That did not stop him doing his best by the British explorer who came seeking to steal his dream. How unlike Scott he was, Shackleton must have thought, as Nansen discussed clothing, food, cooking equipment and transport. He gave the younger man the benefit of his vast knowledge, which dictated, among other things, the use of dogs, skis and animal fur for clothing and sleeping bags.
Had Shackleton followed Nansen's recommendations, Amundsen-Scott Station at the South Pole might today be named for him rather than for the leaders of the first two parties to attain that destination. But on two crucial points Shackleton would veer from Nansen's recommendations, and that would make all the difference.
It was a fateful choice, one that, in retrospect, begs the question of how it could possibly have been reached. But the roots of the decision that Shackleton now made went back years earlier - to the time of the most remarkable meeting in polar history.
After retreating from their farthest north in 1895, Nansen and Johansen had been forced to winter in a dingy shelter they built under a driftwood log on a wretched island in Franz Josef Land. They did not actually know where they were, and in May 1896 they headed southwest through the archipelago in leaky kayaks, not realising that soon there would be nothing between them and Svalbard - hundreds of miles away. But while camped on Northbrook Island, Nansen heard dogs and then saw a man and approached him. 'I raised my hat; we extended a hand to one another,' Nansen wrote:
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