How the shortage arose is a mystery. And they eleven miles from One Ton and plenty!
Titus did not show his foot till about three days before he died. The foot was then a great size, and almost every night it would be frost-bitten again. Then the last day at lunch he said he could go on no more—but they said he must: he wanted them to leave him behind in his bag. That night he turned in, hoping never to wake: but he woke, and then he asked their advice: they said they must all go on together. A thick blizzard was blowing, and he said, after a bit, "Well, I am just going outside, and I may be some time." They searched for him but could not find him.
They had a terrible time from 80° 30′ on to their last camp. There Bill was very bad, and Birdie and the Owner had to do the camping.
And then, eleven miles from plenty, they had nine days of blizzard, and that was the end.
They had a good spread on their tent, and their ski-sticks were standing, but their ski were drifted up on the ground.
The tent was in excellent condition—only down some of the poles there were some chafes.
They had been trying a spirit lamp when all the oil was gone.
At 88° or so they were getting temperatures from −20° to −30°. At 82°, 10,000 feet lower, it was regularly down to −47° in the night-time, and −30° during the day: for no explainable reason.
Bill's and Birdie's feet got bad—the Owner's feet got bad last.
It is all too horrible—I am almost afraid to go to sleep now.
November 13. Early morning. We came on just under seven miles with a very cold moist wind hurting our faces all the way. We have left most of the provisions to pick up again. We purpose going on thirteen miles to-morrow and search for Oates' body, and then turn back and get the provisions back to Hut Point and see what can be done over in the west to get up that coast.
