After our folly around the dinner table it was inevitable the laughs would fade and the real tragedy would rear its ugly head once again. It had never occurred to me that I might feel a tad light-headed during a rehearsal. However, this was exactly the effect the above scene induced in not just me but a few of us watching from the audience on Thursday. We are all used to taking copious notes, drawing diagrams and focusing on the paper as well as the stage, yet at this rehearsal we were all considerably distracted from the task at hand. We had to go through the agony of watching Evans die time and time again as we worked out the logistics of just where his dead body should end up. We had to watch him brandish a rather dangerous sharp knife around, convulse violently, fall sharply and die quietly all the while trying to make sure he didn’t end up on the laps of the audience in the front row.
Robert Falcon Scott and his crew did not make it back to One Ton Depot alive. They were frozen, exhausted and defeated on their return journey. Edgar Evans, having suffered a cut to his hand which did not heal properly began to deteriorate rapidly both mentally and physically. He suffered from frostbite to his nose, cheeks and fingers. It was also thought that he may have endured a serious bout of concussion which would have added to his misery. On February 17th, Edgar Evan died at the foot of the Beardmore Glacier. Other members of the group began to die and they set up their final camp on March 11, 1912 only 11 miles from One Ton Depot. A raging blizzard kept them from the depot, and the remaining crew died at this camp. They were found dead in their sleeping bags by a rescue party on November 12, 1912.
Above, a memorial stained glass window in Binton church, Warwickshire, England.
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