Furthest South - June/July 1999 British Heritage Feature

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Furthest South

Robert Falcon Scott, the Antarctic pioneer, headed south to make sure that Britain won the race to the South Pole.

by Bruce Heydt

Though Robert Falcon Scott was not born until 1868, the most insightful and succinct description of his career may have been written in the 16th century, when Shakespeare observed that “some men are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.”

Robert Scott was of the third sort. The adventures that made him a national hero were planned by others who selected him for their purposes; and his reputation, many of his biographers have suggested, owes as much to his accidental and highly romantic death as to his personal accomplishments. If, however, Scott was not a man of heroic vision nor one who was habitually successful in his endeavours, there is no doubt that his steadfast dedication in the face of the challenges that were placed in his path entitled him to the fame he achieved.

Scott completed his naval cadet instruction on the Royal Navy’s training ship Britannia and entered the service as a midshipman in 1883. After serving for four years on various ships, he joined the West Indies Training Squadron as a torpedo officer in 1887. While there, his quiet competence caught the attention of Sir Clements Markham, the squadron commander’s cousin, who was Honorary Secretary to the Royal Geographical Society.

Sir Clements was already formulating plans to send a British expedition to explore Antarctica, which he saw as the last great frontier on earth and the ideal place to demonstrate Britain’s continuing leadership in scientific exploration and individual achievement. He knew that the man chosen to lead such an adventure would have to be a young, energetic and intelligent officer, and he privately compiled a list of candidates from among the Royal Navy officers he had met.

As the years passed, Robert Scott’s name remained on Sir Clements’ list while, one by one, the other candidates were eliminated. The two men crossed paths several more times during the next decade. Each time, Sir Clements was more thoroughly impressed by the young officer and more certain that he would be the one to someday lead the Antarctic explorations, but he did not mention a word of his plans to Lieutenant Scott until June, 1899. The young officer was then in London and, he later remembered, “chancing one day to walk down Buckingham Palace Road, I espied Sir Clements on the opposite pavement, and naturally crossed, and as naturally turned and accompanied him to his house. That afternoon I learned for the first time that there was such a thing as a prospective Antarctic expedition; two days later I wrote applying to command it, and a year after that I was officially appointed.”

As if to confirm that his application for the post had been at Sir Clements’ urging, Scott admitted that “I have no predilection for polar exploration.” Nevertheless, he began to prepare himself for the task ahead. He was pleased to hear that the ship being constructed for his use was to be called Discovery, because he observed that none of the five previous British research vessels bearing that name had ever been connected with failure or disaster. Scott apparently overlooked the death of Captain James Cook at the hands of Polynesian natives in 1778, while visiting Hawaii with the ships Resolution and Discovery.

While commander Scott prepared himself, others hammered out the details of the expedition. The adventure was to be a joint effort by the Royal Society and the Royal Geographical Society. The collaboration was not an easy one, however, and one of the foremost disputes was over how to delegate responsibilities between the naval officers, sponsored by the Royal Geographical Society, and the civilian scientists of the Royal society. In particular, the Royal Society did not have much confidence in Commander Scott’s abilities, and argued that he should be in command only of those members of the expedition who were Royal Navy officers, while a co-leader oversaw the non-military men. When Scott heard of these discussions, he repaid Sir Clements’ faith in him by insisting that he be given sole command of the expedition or be excused from it entirely. The Royal Society grudgingly relented, but it was not the last time the young officer with “no predilection” for the job would overrule the judgement of the prestigious Society.

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