South: The Story of Shackleton's Last Expedition, 1914-1917
been the penalty of perseverance. The dogs stayed in their kennels for
the most part, the “old stagers” putting out a paw occasionally in
order to keep open a breathing-hole. By evening the gale had attained a
force of 60 or 70 miles an hour, and the ship was trembling under the
attack. But we were snug enough in our quarters aboard until the
morning of the 14th, when all hands turned out to shovel the snow from
deck and kennels. The wind was still keen and searching, with a
temperature of something like –30° Fahr., and it was necessary for us
to be on guard against frost-bite. At least 100 tons of snow were piled
against the bows and port side, where the weight of the drift had
forced the floe downward. The lead ahead had opened out during the
night, cracked the pack from north to south and frozen over again,
adding 300 yds. to the distance between the ship and “Khyber Pass.” The
breakdown gang had completed its work by lunch-time. The gale was then
decreasing and the three-days-old moon showed as a red crescent on the
northern horizon. The temperature during the blizzard had ranged from
–21° to –33.5° Fahr. It is usual for the temperature to rise during a
blizzard, and the failure to produce any Föhn effect of this nature
suggested an absence of high land for at least 200 miles to the south
and south-west. The weather did not clear until the 16th. We saw then
that the appearance of the surrounding pack had been altered completely
by the blizzard. The “island” floe containing the _Endurance_ still
stood fast, but cracks and masses of ice thrown up by pressure could be
seen in all directions. An area of open water was visible on the
horizon to the north, with a water indication in the northern sky.
The ice-pressure, which was indicated by distant rumblings and the
appearance of formidable ridges, was increasingly a cause of anxiety.
The areas of disturbance were gradually approaching the ship. During
July 21 we could bear the grinding and crashing of the working floes to
the south-west and west and could see cracks opening, working, and
closing ahead.
“The ice is rafting up to a height of 10 or 15 ft. in places, the
opposing floes are moving against one another at the rate of about 200
yds. per hour. The noise resembles the roar of heavy, distant surf.
Standing on the stirring ice one can imagine it is disturbed by the
breathing and tossing of a mighty giant below.”
Early on the afternoon of the 22nd a 2-ft. crack, running south-west
and north-east for a distance of about two miles, approached to within
35 yds. of the port quarter. I had all the sledges brought aboard and
set a special watch in case it became necessary to get the dogs off the
floe in a hurry. This crack was the result of heavy pressure 300 yds.
away on the port bow, where huge blocks of ice were piled up in wild
and threatening confusion. The pressure at that point was enormous.
Blocks weighing many tons were raised 15 ft. above the level of the
floe. I arranged to divide the night watches with Worsley and Wild, and
none of us had much rest. The ship was shaken by heavy bumps, and we
were on the alert to see that no dogs had fallen into cracks. The
morning light showed that our island had been reduced considerably
during the night. Our long months of rest and safety seemed to be at an
end, and a period of stress had begun.
During the following day I had a store of sledging provisions, oil,
matches, and other essentials placed on the upper deck handy to the
starboard quarter boat, so as to be in readiness for a sudden
emergency. The ice was grinding and working steadily to the southward,
and in the evening some large cracks appeared on the port quarter,
while a crack alongside opened out to 15 yds. The blizzard seemed to
have set the ice in strong movement towards the north, and the
south-westerly and west-south-westerly winds that prevailed two days
out of three maintained the drift. I hoped that this would continue
unchecked, since our chance of getting clear of the pack early in the
spring appeared to depend upon our making a good northing. Soundings at
this time gave depths of from 186 to 190 fathoms, with a glacial mud
bottom. No land was in sight. The light was improving. A great deal of
ice-pressure was heard and observed in all directions during the 25th,
much of it close to the port quarter of the ship. On the starboard bow
huge blocks of ice, weighing many tons and 5 ft. in thickness, were
pushed up on the old floe to a height of 15 to 20 ft. The floe that
held the _Endurance_ was swung to and fro by the pressure during the
day, but came back to the old bearing before midnight.
“The ice for miles around is much looser. There are numerous cracks and
short leads to the north-east and south-east. Ridges are being forced
up in all directions, and there is a water-sky to the south-east. It
would be a relief to be able to make some effort on our own behalf; but
we can do nothing until the ice releases our ship. If the floes
continue to loosen, we may break out within the next few weeks and
resume the fight. In the meantime the pressure continues, and it is
hard to foresee the outcome. Just before noon to-day (July 26) the top
of the sun appeared by refraction for one minute, seventy-nine days
after our last sunset. A few minutes earlier a small patch of the sun
had been thrown up on one of the black streaks above the horizon. All
hands are cheered by the indication that the end of the winter darkness
is near.... Clark finds that with returning daylight the _diatoms_ are
again appearing. His nets and line are stained a pale yellow, and much
of the newly formed ice has also a faint brown or yellow tinge. The
_diatoms_ cannot multiply without light, and the ice formed since
February can be distinguished in the pressure-ridges by its clear blue
colour. The older masses of ice are of a dark earthy brown, dull
yellow, or reddish brown.”
The break-up of our floe came suddenly on Sunday, August 1, just one
year after the _Endurance_ left the South-West India Docks on the
voyage to the Far South. The position was lat. 72° 26´ S., long. 48°
10´ W. The morning brought a moderate south-westerly gale with heavy
snow, and at 8 a.m., after some warning movements of the ice, the floe
cracked 40 yds. off the starboard bow. Two hours later the floe began
to break up all round us under pressure and the ship listed over 10
degrees to starboard. I had the dogs and sledges brought aboard at once
and the gangway hoisted. The animals behaved well. They came aboard
eagerly as though realizing their danger, and were placed in their
quarters on deck without a single fight occurring. The pressure was
cracking the floe rapidly, rafting it close to the slip and forcing
masses of ice beneath the keel. Presently the _Endurance_ listed
heavily to port against the gale, and at the same time was forced
ahead, astern, and sideways several times by the grinding floes. She
received one or two hard nips, but resisted them without as much as a
creak. It looked at one stage as if the ship was to be made the
plaything of successive floes, and I was relieved when she came to a
standstill with a large piece of our old “dock” under the starboard
bilge. I had the boats cleared away ready for lowering, got up some
additional stores, and set a double watch. All hands were warned to
stand by, get what sleep they could, and have their warmest clothing at
hand. Around us lay the ruins of “Dog Town” amid the debris of
pressure-ridges. Some of the little dwellings had been crushed flat
beneath blocks of ice; others had been swallowed and pulverized when
the ice opened beneath them and closed again. It was a sad sight, but
my chief concern just then was the safety of the rudder, which was
being attacked viciously by the ice. We managed to pole away a large
lump that had become jammed between the rudder and the stern-post, but
I could see that damage had been done, though a close examination was
not possible that day.
After the ship had come to a standstill in her new position very heavy
pressure was set up. Some of the trenails were started and beams
buckled slightly under the terrific stresses. But the _Endurance_ had
been built to withstand the attacks of the ice, and she lifted bravely
as the floes drove beneath her. The effects of the pressure around us
were awe-inspiring. Mighty blocks of ice, gripped between meeting
floes, rose slowly till they jumped like cherry-stones squeezed between
thumb and finger. The pressure of millions of tons of moving ice was
crushing and smashing inexorably. If the ship was once gripped firmly
her fate would be sealed.
The gale from the south-west blew all night and moderated during the
afternoon of the 2nd to a stiff breeze. The pressure had almost ceased.
Apparently the gale had driven the southern pack down upon us, causing
congestion in our area; the pressure had stopped when the whole of the
pack got into motion. The gale had given us some northing, but it had
dealt the _Endurance_ what might prove to be a severe blow. The rudder
had been driven hard over to starboard and the blade partially torn
away from the rudder-head. Heavy masses of ice were still jammed
against the stern, and it was impossible to ascertain the extent of the
damage at that time. I felt that it would be impossible in any case to
effect repairs in the moving pack. The ship lay steady all night, and
the sole sign of continuing pressure was an occasional slight rumbling
shock. We rigged shelters and kennels for the dogs inboard.
The weather on August 3 was overcast and misty. We had nine hours of
twilight, with good light at noon. There was no land in sight for ten
miles from the mast-head. The pack as far as the eye could reach was in
a condition of chaos, much rafted and consolidated, with very large
pressure-ridges in all directions. At 9 p.m. a rough altitude of
_Canopus_ gave the latitude as 71° 55´ 17´´ S. The drift, therefore,
had been about 37 miles to the north in three days. Four of the poorest
dogs were shot this day. They were suffering severely from worms, and
we could not afford to keep sick dogs under the changed conditions. The
sun showed through the clouds on the northern horizon for an hour on
the 4th. There was no open water to be seen from aloft in any
direction. We saw from the masthead to west-south-west an appearance of
barrier, land, or a very long iceberg, about 20 odd miles away, but the
horizon clouded over before we could determine its nature. We tried
twice to make a sounding that day, but failed on each occasion. The
Kelvin machine gave no bottom at the full length of the line, 370
fathoms. After much labour we made a hole in the ice near the
stern-post large enough for the Lucas machine with a 32-lb. lead; but
this appeared to be too light. The machine stopped at 452 fathoms,
leaving us in doubt as to whether bottom had been reached. Then in
heaving up we lost the lead, the thin wire cutting its way into the ice
and snapping. All hands and the carpenter were busy this day making and
placing kennels on the upper deck, and by nightfall all the dogs were
comfortably housed, ready for any weather. The sun showed through the
clouds above the northern horizon for nearly an hour.
The remaining days of August were comparatively uneventful. The ice
around the ship froze firm again and little movement occurred in our
neighbourhood. The training of the dogs, including the puppies,
proceeded actively, and provided exercise as well as occupation. The
drift to the north-west continued steadily. We had bad luck with
soundings, the weather interfering at times and the gear breaking on
several occasions, but a big increase in the depth showed that we had