OHYAY: Philia

This should have been posted yesterday, but I saved it for today, when the Western world obsesses over romance, to remind us that there are other kinds of love, which are no less profound.

ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO YESTERDAY, Teddy Evans, who had long since stopped pulling the sledge on account of the ravages of scurvy, and was now only hobbling alongside on skis he couldn't lift, pushing himself forward with a ski stick ... fainted.

Crean and Lashly picked me up, and Crean thought I was dead. His hot tears fell on my face, and as I came to I gave a weak sort of laugh.
    They rigged the camp up once more and put me in my bag, and then those two gallant fellows held a short council of war. ... I vainly tried to persuade them to leave me in my sleeping-bag with what food they could spare, but they put me on the sledge, bag and all ...

– Teddy Evans, South With Scott

This morning he wished us to leave him, but this we could not think of. We shall stand by him to the end one way or other, so we are the masters to-day. He has got to do as we wish and we hope to pull him through. This morning when we depôted all our gear I changed my socks and got my foot badly frostbitten ... although Mr. Evans was so bad he proposed to stuff it on his stomach to try and get it right again. I did not like to risk such a thing as he is certainly very weak, but we tried it, and it succeeded in bringing it round, thanks to his thoughtfulness, and I shall never forget the kindness bestowed on me at a critical time in our travels, but I think we could go to any length of trouble to assist one another; in such time and such a place we must trust in a higher power to pull us through. ... We ... pull the sledge alongside his bag and lift him on to it and strap him on. It is a painful piece of work and he takes it pretty well, but we can't help hurting him, as it is very awkward to lift him, the snow being soft and the light so bad, but he don't complain. The only thing we hear him grind his teeth.

– William Lashly's journals

It was heavy pulling with Teddy's weight on the sledge. They only made ten miles a day, and because they were going slower than planned, they were running through their food more quickly than they were reaching the next depot. Some of their remaining biscuits had gotten soaked with the paraffin that ran the stove. Things are looking dire! Tune in again on February 18th for the next amazing chapter of Misery on the Ice!