Chapter IV

We come now to the second attempt of 1922, in which oxygen was used. Certain eminent scientists at home had held that Everest could never be conquered without its aid, and the expedition had brought a very full equipment--oxygen stored in light steel cylinders, and a somewhat complex apparatus for its use. There had been oxygen drill parades among the party, and perhaps it might have been well had they used it straight away for one main attempt, instead of making the first effort without it. Unfortunately the apparatus needed overhauling, and it was not till 22nd May, when Mr. Mallory and his party were coming down from the mountain, that four sets were ready for use. As to the legitimacy of such a device in mountaineering, Mr. Finch's arguments are final.

"Few of us, I think, who stop to ponder for a brief second, will deny that our very existence in this enlightened twentieth century, with all its amenities of modern civilization is ... 'artificial.' Most of us have learned to respect progress, and to appreciate the meaning and advantages of adaptability. For instance, it is a fairly firmly established fact that warmth is necessary to life. The mountaineer, acting on this knowledge, conserves, as far as possible, his animal heat by wearing especially warm clothing. No one demurs; it is the commonsense thing to do. He pours his hot tea from a thermos bottle--and never blushes! Nonchalantly, without fear of adverse criticism, he doctors up his insides with special heat- and energy-giving foods and stimulants! From the sun's ultra-violet rays and the wind's bitter cold he boldly dares to protect his eyes with Crookes' anti-glare glasses. Further, he wears boots that to the average layman look ridiculous! The use of caffeine, to supply just a little more buck to an almost worn-out frame, is not cavilled at, despite its being a synthetic drug, the manufacture of which involves the employment of complicated plant and methods. If science could prepare oxygen in tabloid form, or supply it to us in thermos flasks that we might imbibe it like our hot tea, the stigma of 'artificiality' would, perhaps, be effectually removed. But when it has to be carried in special containers, its whole essence is held to be altered, and, by using it, the mountaineer is taking a sneaking, unfair advantage of the mountain! In answer to this grave charge, I would remind the accuser that, by the inhalation of a little life-giving gas, the climber does not smooth away the rough rocks of the mountain, or still the storm; nor is he an Aladdin who, by a rub on a magic ring, is wafted by invisible agents to his goal. Oxygen renders available more of his store of energy, and so hastens his steps, but it does not, alas! fit the wings of Mercury to his feet. The logic of the anti-oxygenist is surely faulty."

On 20th May, Mr. Finch and Captain Geoffrey Bruce arrived at Camp 3, accompanied by Tejbir, one of the four Gurkha non-commissioned officers lent to the expedition. There they found the oxygen apparatus in bad condition, and had to tinker at it for four days. During this period they made a trial trip to Camp 4 on the North Col, using oxygen. A good deal of new step-cutting had to be done, for fresh snow had fallen, but in spite of that, the oxygen enabled them to get to the col in three hours and to return in fifty minutes, with halts to take three dozen photographs.

On 24th May, Mr. Finch, Captain Bruce, Captain Noel, the official photographer, and Tejbir, with twelve porters, went up to the North Col and camped for the night. Next morning, the 25th, brought a clear, windy sky, and at eight o'clock the twelve porters, with the camp outfit, provisions for one day, and the oxygen cylinders, started up the North ridge, followed an hour and a half later by Mr. Finch, Captain Bruce, and Tejbir, each carrying a load of over thirty pounds. All fifteen used oxygen. It was their intention to make a camp above 26,000 feet; but after one o'clock the wind freshened and snow began, so it was deemed advisable, in order to ensure the safe return of the porters to the North Col, to camp at 25,500 feet. The camping place was no better than that which Mr. Mallory had found; the place was on the actual crest of the ridge, for the west side was scourged by wind, and there was no good position on the east side. The tent was pitched on a little platform on the edge of precipices falling to the East Rongbuk Glacier, 4,000 feet below. The tent was secured as well as possible by guy-ropes; but when the climbers got into their sleeping-bags it was both blowing and snowing hard, and minute flakes filled the tent. Snow was melted, and a tepid meal was cooked--a really warm meal was out of the question, for at that altitude water boils at so low a temperature that a man can hold his hand in it without discomfort.

As the night closed in, the two climbers comforted themselves with the assurance that next day they would get to the top. But after sunset the wind increased to a gale so furious that even the ground sheet with the three men lying on it was lifted completely off the earth. They blocked up the small openings as well as they could, but before midnight everything inside was covered with spindrift. It was impossible to sleep. They had to be constantly on the watch to prevent the flaps being torn open and to hold the tent down; for they realized that if once the gale got hold of their shelter the whole outfit would be blown on to the glacier below.

Few adventurers have ever spent a more awful night. Tejbir had all the placidity of his race, and Captain Bruce, who was making his first serious mountaineering expedition on the highest of the world's mountains, was as cheerful as if he had been sleeping in an ordinary Alpine _cabane_. Here is Mr. Finch's own description:--

"By one o'clock on the morning of the 26th the gale reached its maximum. The wild flapping of the canvas made a noise like that of machine-gun fire. So deafening was it that we could scarcely hear each other speak. Later there came interludes of comparative lull, succeeded by bursts of storm more furious than ever. During such lulls we took it in turn to go outside to tighten up slackened guy-ropes, and also succeeded in tying down the tent more firmly with our Alpine rope. It was impossible to work in the open for more than three or four minutes at a stretch, so profound was the exhaustion induced by this brief exposure to the fierce cold wind."

Morning broke with no lull in the violence of the elements. They prepared a make-shift meal, and spent the forenoon hours in desperate anxiety. At midday the storm seemed to reach the summit of its fury, and matters were made more awkward by a stone cutting a great hole in the tent. Mercifully an hour later the wind suddenly dropped, and the anxious occupants of the tent could prospect the weather.

The sensible thing would have been to make a retreat to the North Col, but there was no thought of giving up. The party were unanimous in resolving to hang on and make the attempt the following day. With the last of their fuel they cooked supper--a frugal meal, for, since they had only carried provisions for one day, they were now on very short rations. As they settled down for the night voices were heard outside, and the porters from the North Col appeared, bringing thermos flasks of hot beef-tea and tea, sent by Captain Noel. In a little more comfort they tried to sleep. All three, however, were strained and weak from their labours of the past twenty-four hours, and they felt a numbing cold creeping up their limbs. Mr. Finch had the happy inspiration to use oxygen, and so arranged the apparatus that each could breathe a small quantity throughout the night. "The result was marvellous. We slept well and warmly. Whenever the tube delivering the gas fell out of Bruce's mouth as he slept, I could see him stir uneasily in the eerie greenish light of the moon as it filtered through the canvas. Then, half unconsciously replacing the tube, he would fall once more into a peaceful slumber."

Next morning, the 27th, they woke well and hungry, and after a struggle with their boots, which were frozen stiff, started off at 6.30, Captain Bruce and Mr. Finch carrying each over forty pounds, and Tejbir some fifty pounds. Their plan was to take Tejbir as far as the North-East shoulder, and there to relieve him of his load and send him back. It was cold clear weather, and the wind was not too strong. Presently, however, it began to freshen, and after they had gained a few hundred feet it was Tejbir who showed the first signs of weakness. He collapsed entirely, and had to be relieved of his cylinders and sent back. The height was about 26,000 feet, the highest point which any native had yet reached.

In order to move more quickly, Mr. Finch and Captain Bruce dispensed with the rope. The rocks were quite easy, and at 26,500 feet they had passed two admirable sites for a camp. But the wind was steadily increasing in force, and they were compelled to leave the ridge and traverse out across the great north face. This was bad luck, for the ridge was easy climbing and the face was not. The stratification of the rocks was most awkward, and it was hard to find any good footholds. The climbers were unroped, and it was a severe test of Captain Bruce, who had had no mountaineering experience to give him confidence. Sometimes they were on treacherous slopes, sometimes on more treacherous snow, and they often had to cross heaps of scree that moved with every step. They stopped occasionally to replace an empty cylinder of oxygen with a new one, each of which meant five pounds off their load. Presently the aneroid gave their height as 27,000 feet. They now ceased traversing, and began to climb straight upward to a point on the North-East ridge, half way between the shoulder and the summit. Soon they were at 27,300 feet, and the top of Everest was the only mountain they could see without looking down. The peaks which had seemed so formidable from the glacier had now sunk into insignificant humps. They were 1,700 feet below the summit, well within half a mile of it, and they could distinguish stones and a patch of scree just under its highest point.

But it was very clear that they could go no farther. Weak with hunger and the anxiety and labours of the past forty-eight hours, it was plain to Mr. Finch that if they went on even for another 500 feet they would not both get back alive. Like wise and brave men they decided to retreat. It was now about midday, and for greater safety they roped together. At first they followed their old tracks, and then moved towards the North ridge at a point higher than where they had left it. They reached the ridge at two o'clock, and there reduced their burden by dumping four oxygen cylinders at a place to which future climbers could be directed.

The weather was getting worse. A violent wind from the west was bringing up mist, but happily there was no snow. Half an hour later they reached their camp of the night before, where they found Tejbir sound asleep, wrapped up in all the three sleeping-bags. The porters from the North Col were a mile below, and Tejbir was instructed to go down with them. The rest of the descent was a nightmare. The knees of the climbers knocked together, and their limbs did not seem to respond to the direction of the brain. Often they staggered and slipped, and often they were forced to sit down. But at four o'clock in the afternoon they reached the North Col. Happily they still felt famished; they had not yet reached the limit of a man's strength when hunger vanishes. At the North Col they had hot tea and spaghetti, and three-quarters of an hour later they started off for Camp 3 in the company of Captain Noel. The journey was made in record time--forty minutes--and at 5.30 they had reached Camp 3, having descended since midday 6,000 feet.

That evening made amends for the long hours of famine. "Four whole quails, truffled in _paté de foie gras_, followed by nine sausages, left me asking for more. The last I remember of that long day was going to sleep, warm in the depths of our wonderful sleeping-bag, with the remains of a tin of toffee tucked away in the crook of my elbow."

Captain Brace's feet were badly frost-bitten, but Mr. Finch had come off scot-free, which was neither more nor less than a physical miracle.

As Captain Bruce, on the way down to the base camp, turned to take his last close view of Everest, his farewell was: "Just you wait, old thing. You will be for it soon." It was the logical conclusion. He and Mr. Finch had got to 27,300 feet after exertions and deprivations which might well have unfitted a man for the ascent of the Rigi. These misfortunes were accidental and not inevitable. The value--the superlative value--of oxygen had been abundantly proved. It may be fairly said that the 1922 expedition, though it had not set foot on the summit, had solved the secret of Everest. The mountain could almost certainly be climbed, provided a little luck attended the climbers. Now that the quality of the native porters has been proved, there seems no reason why, with the help of oxygen, a sixth camp could not be arranged on one of the flat places under 27,000 feet which Mr. Finch noted. A night in such a camp would be no more trying than a night at 25,000 feet. If the climbers, starting from 27,000 feet, and, after a good night, fell in with reasonable weather, there seems little doubt that the remaining 2,000 feet could be ascended and the peak conquered, with a good prospect of a safe return on the same day to the North Col. There remains, of course, the possibility of physical breakdown, such as happened to Major Morshead and Tejbir. But against this may be set the fact that Mr. Mallory, Mr. Somervell, Mr. Norton, Mr. Finch, and Captain Bruce, at great altitudes and after severe physical labour, were not specially distressed, and suffered no bad effects afterwards.

The conquest of Everest will always remain one of the most difficult adventures which man can undertake. But it is a reasonable adventure, and not a piece of crazy foolhardiness, which could only succeed by the help of the one chance in a million. The two reconnaissance expeditions have shown that for its achievement every available human resource is necessary. But granted the utilization of these resources, and the possibility, which our familiarity with the lower slopes may soon permit, of waiting upon a spell of kindly weather, the ultimate conquest would seem to be assured. The secret of Everest has been solved. We know now that there is a way to the top, and we know what that way is.*

* The narratives on which the above account is based will be found in _Mount Everest: The Reconnaissance_ (Edwin Arnold, 1921), and the papers by Mr. Mallory and Mr. Finch in the _Alpine Journal_ of November, 1922.

THE END.

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