South: The Story of Shackleton's Last Expedition, 1914-1917
passed over the edge of the Weddell Sea plateau. A sounding of about
1700 fathoms on August 10 agreed fairly well with Filchner’s 1924
fathoms, 130 miles east of our then position. An observation at noon of
the 8th had given us lat. 71° 23´ S., long. 49° 13´ W. Minus
temperatures prevailed still, but the daylight was increasing. We
captured a few emperor penguins which were making their way to the
south-west. Ten penguins taken on the 19th were all in poor condition,
and their stomachs contained nothing but stones and a few cuttle-fish
beaks. A sounding on the 17th gave 1676 fathoms, 10 miles west of the
charted position of Morell Land. No land could be seen from the
mast-head, and I decided that Morell Land must be added to the long
list of Antarctic islands and continental coasts that on close
investigation have resolved themselves into icebergs. On clear days we
could get an extended view in all directions from the mast-head, and
the line of the pack was broken only by familiar bergs. About one
hundred bergs were in view on a fine day, and they seemed practically
the same as when they started their drift with us nearly seven months
earlier. The scientists wished to inspect some of the neighbouring
bergs at close quarters, but sledge travelling outside the well-trodden
area immediately around the ship proved difficult and occasionally
dangerous. On August 20, for example, Worsley, Hurley, and Greenstreet
started off for the Rampart Berg and got on to a lead of young ice that
undulated perilously beneath their feet. A quick turn saved them.
A wonderful mirage of the Fata Morgana type was visible on August 20.
The day was clear and bright, with a blue sky overhead and some rime
aloft.
“The distant pack is thrown up into towering barrier-like cliffs, which
are reflected in blue lakes and lanes of water at their base. Great
white and golden cities of Oriental appearance at close intervals along
these clifftops indicate distant bergs, some not previously known to
us. Floating above these are wavering violet and creamy lines of still
more remote bergs and pack. The lines rise and fall, tremble,
dissipate, and reappear in an endless transformation scene. The
southern pack and bergs, catching the sun’s rays, are golden, but to
the north the ice-masses are purple. Here the bergs assume changing
forms, first a castle, then a balloon just clear of the horizon, that
changes swiftly into an immense mushroom, a mosque, or a cathedral. The
principal characteristic is the vertical lengthening of the object, a
small pressure-ridge being given the appearance of a line of
battlements or towering cliffs. The mirage is produced by refraction
and is intensified by the columns of comparatively warm air rising from
several cracks and leads that have opened eight to twenty miles away
north and south.”
We noticed this day that a considerable change had taken place in our
position relative to the Rampart Berg. It appeared that a big lead had
opened and that there had been some differential movement of the pack.
The opening movement might presage renewed pressure. A few hours later
the dog teams, returning from exercise, crossed a narrow crack that had
appeared ahead of the ship. This crack opened quickly to 60 ft. and
would have given us trouble if the dogs had been left on the wrong
side. It closed on the 25th and pressure followed in its neighbourhood.
On August 24 we were two miles north of the latitude of Morell’s
farthest south, and over 10° of longitude, or more than 200 miles, west
of his position. From the mast-head no land could be seen within twenty
miles, and no land of over 500 ft. altitude could have escaped
observation on our side of long. 52° W. A sounding of 1900 fathoms on
August 25 was further evidence of the non-existence of New South
Greenland. There was some movement of the ice near the ship during the
concluding days of the month. All hands were called out in the night of
August 26, sounds of pressure having been followed by the cracking of
the ice alongside the ship, but the trouble did not develop
immediately. Late on the night of the 31st the ice began to work ahead
of the ship and along the port side. Creaking and groaning of timbers,
accompanied by loud snapping sounds fore and aft, told their story of
strain. The pressure continued during the following day, beams and deck
planks occasionally buckling to the strain. The ponderous floes were
grinding against each other under the influence of wind and current,
and our ship seemed to occupy for the time being an undesirable
position near the centre of the disturbance; but she resisted staunchly
and showed no sign of water in the bilges, although she had not been
pumped out for six months. The pack extended to the horizon in every
direction. I calculated that we were 250 miles from the nearest known
land to the westward, and more than 500 miles from the nearest outpost
of civilization, Wilhelmina Bay. I hoped we would not have to undertake
a march across the moving ice-fields. The _Endurance_ we knew to be
stout and true; but no ship ever built by man could live if taken
fairly in the grip of the floes and prevented from rising to the
surface of the grinding ice. These were anxious days. In the early
morning of September 2 the ship jumped and shook to the accompaniment
of cracks and groans, and some of the men who had been in the berths
hurried on deck. The pressure eased a little later in the day, when the
ice on the port side broke away from the ship to just abaft the main
rigging. The _Endurance_ was still held aft and at the rudder, and a
large mass of ice could be seen adhering to the port bow, rising to
within three feet of the surface. I wondered if this ice had got its
grip by piercing the sheathing.
CHAPTER IV
LOSS OF THE _ENDURANCE_
The ice did not trouble us again seriously until the end of September,
though during the whole month the floes were seldom entirely without
movement. The roar of pressure would come to us across the otherwise
silent ice-fields, and bring with it a threat and a warning. Watching
from the crow’s-nest, we could see sometimes the formation of
pressure-ridges. The sunshine glittered on newly riven ice-surfaces as
the masses of shattered floe rose and fell away from the line of
pressure. The area of disturbance would advance towards us, recede, and
advance again. The routine of work and play on the _Endurance_
proceeded steadily. Our plans and preparations for any contingency that
might arise during the approaching summer had been made, but there
seemed always plenty to do in and about our prisoned ship. Runs with
the dogs and vigorous games of hockey and football on the rough
snow-covered floe kept all hands in good fettle. The record of one or
two of these September days will indicate the nature of our life and
our surroundings:
“_September_ 4.—Temperature, –14.1° Fahr. Light easterly breeze, blue
sky, and stratus clouds. During forenoon notice a distinct terra-cotta
or biscuit colour in the stratus clouds to the north. This travelled
from east to west and could conceivably have come from some of the
Graham Land volcanoes, now about 300 miles distant to the north-west.
The upper current of air probably would come from that direction. Heavy
rime. Pack unbroken and unchanged as far as visible. No land for 22
miles. No animal life observed.”
“_September_ 7.—Temperature, –10.8° Fahr. Moderate easterly to
southerly winds, overcast and misty, with light snow till midnight,
when weather cleared. Blue sky and fine clear weather to noon. Much
rime aloft. Thick fresh snow on ship and floe that glistens brilliantly
in the morning sunlight. Little clouds of faint violet-coloured mist
rise from the lower and brinier portions of the pack, which stretches
unbroken to the horizon. Very great refraction all round. A tabular
berg about fifty feet high ten miles west is a good index of the amount
of refraction. On ordinary days it shows from the mast-head, clear-cut
against the sky; with much refraction, the pack beyond at the back of
it lifts up into view; to-day a broad expanse of miles of pack is seen
above it. Numerous other bergs generally seen in silhouette are, at
first sight, lost, but after a closer scrutiny they appear as large
lumps or dark masses well below the horizon. Refraction generally
results in too big an altitude when observing the sun for position, but
to-day, the horizon is thrown up so much that the altitude is about 12´
too small. No land visible for twenty miles. No animal life observed.
Lower Clark’s tow-net with 566 fathoms of wire, and hoist it up at two
and a half miles an hour by walking across the floe with the wire.
Result rather meagre—jelly-fish and some fish larvæ. Exercise dogs in
sledge teams. The young dogs, under Crean’s care, pull as well, though
not so strongly, as the best team in the pack. Hercules for the last
fortnight or more has constituted himself leader of the orchestra. Two
or three times in the twenty-four hours he starts a howl—a deep,
melodious howl—and in about thirty seconds he has the whole pack in
full song, the great deep, booming, harmonious song of the half-wolf
pack.”
By the middle of September we were running short of fresh meat for the
dogs. The seals and penguins seemed to have abandoned our neighbourhood
altogether. Nearly five months had passed since we killed a seal, and
penguins had been seen seldom. Clark, who was using his trawl as often
as possible, reported that there was a marked absence of _plankton_ in
the sea, and we assumed that the seals and the penguins had gone in
search of their accustomed food. The men got an emperor on the 23rd.
The dogs, which were having their sledging exercise, became wildly
excited when the penguin, which had risen in a crack, was driven
ashore, and the best efforts of the drivers failed to save it alive. On
the following day Wild, Hurley, Macklin, and McIlroy took their teams
to the Stained Berg, about seven miles west of the ship, and on their
way back got a female crab-eater, which they killed, skinned, and left
to be picked up later. They ascended to the top of the berg, which lay
in about lat. 69° 30´ S., long. 51° W., and from an elevation of 110
ft. could see no land. Samples of the discoloured ice from the berg
proved to contain dust with black gritty particles or sand-grains.
Another seal, a bull Weddell, was secured on the 26th. The return of
seal-life was opportune, since we had nearly finished the winter supply
of dog-biscuit and wished to be able to feed the dogs on meat. The
seals meant a supply of blubber, moreover, to supplement our small
remaining stock of coal when the time came to get up steam again. We
initiated a daylight-saving system on this day by putting forward the
clock one hour. “This is really pandering to the base but universal
passion that men, and especially seafarers, have for getting up late,
otherwise we would be honest and make our routine earlier instead of
flogging the clock.”
During the concluding days of September the roar of the pressure grew
louder, and I could see that the area of disturbance was rapidly
approaching the ship. Stupendous forces were at work and the fields of
firm ice around the _Endurance_ were being diminished steadily.
September 30 was a bad day. It began well, for we got two penguins and
five seals during the morning. Three other seals were seen. But at 3
p.m. cracks that had opened during the night alongside the ship
commenced to work in a lateral direction. The ship sustained terrific
pressure on the port side forward, the heaviest shocks being under the
forerigging. It was the worst squeeze we had experienced. The decks