Sledging he went harder than any man of whom I have ever heard.  Men never realized Scott until they had gone sledging with him.  On our way up the Beardmore Glacier we were going at top pressure some seventeen hours out of the twenty-four, and when we turned out in the morning we felt as though we had only just turned in.  By lunch time we felt that it was impossible to get through in the afternoon a similar amount of work to that which we had done in the morning.  A cup of tea and two biscuits worked wonders, and the first two hours of the afternoon’s march went pretty well, indeed they were the best hours’ marching of the day; but by the time we had been going some 41/2 or 5 hours we were watching Scott for that glance to right and left which betokened the search for a good camping site.  “Spell oh!” Scott would cry, and then “How’s the enemy, Titus?” to Oates, who would hopefully reply that it was, say, seven o’clock.  “Oh, well, I think we’ll go on a little bit more,” Scott would say.  “Come along!” It might be an hour or more before we halted and made our camp:  sometimes a blizzard had its silver lining.  Scott could not wait.  However welcome a blizzard could be to tired bodies (I speak only of summer sledging), to Scott himself any delay was intolerable.  And it is hard to realize how difficult waiting may be to one in a responsible position.  It was our simple job to follow, to get up when we were roused, to pull our hardest, to do our special work as thoroughly and quickly as possible; it was Scott who had to organize distances and weights and food, as well as do the same physical work as ourselves.  In sledging responsibility and physical work are combined to an extent seldom if ever found elsewhere.

His was a subtle character, full of lights and shades.

England knows Scott as a hero; she has little idea of him as a man.  He was certainly the most dominating character in our not uninteresting community:  indeed, there is no doubt that he would carry weight in any gathering of human beings.  But few who knew him realized how shy and reserved the man was, and it was partly for this reason that he so often laid himself open to misunderstanding.

Add to this that he was sensitive, femininely sensitive, to a degree which might be considered a fault, and it will be clear that leadership to such a man may be almost a martyrdom, and that the confidence so necessary between leader and followers, which must of necessity be based upon mutual knowledge and trust, becomes in itself more difficult.  It wanted an understanding man to appreciate Scott quickly; to others knowledge came with experience.

He was not a very strong man physically, and was in his youth a weakly child, at one time not expected to live.  But he was well proportioned, with broad shoulders and a good chest, a stronger man than Wilson, weaker than Bowers or Seaman Evans.  He suffered from indigestion, and told me at the top of the Beardmore that he never expected to go on during the first stage of the ascent.