South: The Story of Shackleton's Last Expedition, 1914-1917
It will be convenient to state here briefly some of the considerations
that weighed with me at that time and in the weeks that followed. I
knew that the ice had come far north that season and, after listening
to the suggestions of the whaling captains, had decided to steer to the
South Sandwich Group, round Ultima Thule, and work as far to the
eastward as the fifteenth meridian west longitude before pushing south.
The whalers emphasized the difficulty of getting through the ice in the
neighbourhood of the South Sandwich Group. They told me they had often
seen the floes come right up to the group in the summer-time, and they
thought the Expedition would have to push through heavy pack in order
to reach the Weddell Sea. Probably the best time to get into the
Weddell Sea would be the end of February or the beginning of March. The
whalers had gone right round the South Sandwich Group and they were
familiar with the conditions. The predictions they made induced me to
take the deck-load of coal, for if we had to fight our way through to
Coats’ Land we would need every ton of fuel the ship could carry.
I hoped that by first moving to the east as far as the fifteenth
meridian west we would be able to go south through looser ice, pick up
Coats’ Land and finally reach Vahsel Bay, where Filchner made his
attempt at landing in 1912. Two considerations were occupying my mind
at this juncture. I was anxious for certain reasons to winter the
_Endurance_ in the Weddell Sea, but the difficulty of finding a safe
harbour might be very great. If no safe harbour could be found, the
ship must winter at South Georgia. It seemed to me hopeless now to
think of making the journey across the continent in the first summer,
as the season was far advanced and the ice conditions were likely to
prove unfavourable. In view of the possibility of wintering the ship in
the ice, we took extra clothing from the stores at the various stations
in South Georgia.
The other question that was giving me anxious thought was the size of
the shore party. If the ship had to go out during the winter, or if she
broke away from winter quarters, it would be preferable to have only a
small, carefully selected party of men ashore after the hut had been
built and the stores landed. These men could proceed to lay out depots
by man-haulage and make short journeys with the dogs, training them for
the long early march in the following spring. The majority of the
scientific men would live aboard the ship, where they could do their
work under good conditions. They would be able to make short journeys
if required, using the _Endurance_ as a base. All these plans were
based on an expectation that the finding of winter quarters was likely
to be difficult. If a really safe base could be established on the
continent, I would adhere to the original programme of sending one
party to the south, one to the west round the head of the Weddell Sea
towards Graham Land, and one to the east towards Enderby Land.
We had worked out details of distances, courses, stores required, and
so forth. Our sledging ration, the result of experience as well as
close study, was perfect. The dogs gave promise, after training, of
being able to cover fifteen to twenty miles a day with loaded sledges.
The trans-continental journey, at this rate, should be completed in 120
days unless some unforeseen obstacle intervened. We longed keenly for
the day when we could begin this march, the last great adventure in the
history of South Polar exploration, but a knowledge of the obstacles
that lay between us and our starting-point served as a curb on
impatience. Everything depended upon the landing. If we could land at
Filchner’s base there was no reason why a band of experienced men
should not winter there in safety. But the Weddell Sea was notoriously
inhospitable and already we knew that its sternest face was turned
toward us. All the conditions in the Weddell Sea are unfavourable from
the navigator’s point of view. The winds are comparatively light, and
consequently new ice can form even in the summer-time. The absence of
strong winds has the additional effect of allowing the ice to
accumulate in masses, undisturbed. Then great quantities of ice sweep
along the coast from the east under the influence of the prevailing
current, and fill up the bight of the Weddell Sea as they move north in
a great semicircle. Some of this ice doubtless describes almost a
complete circle, and is held up eventually, in bad seasons, against the
South Sandwich Islands. The strong currents, pressing the ice masses
against the coasts, create heavier pressure than is found in any other
part of the Antarctic. This pressure must be at least as severe as the
pressure experienced in the congested North Polar basin, and I am
inclined to think that a comparison would be to the advantage of the
Arctic. All these considerations naturally had a bearing upon our
immediate problem, the penetration of the pack and the finding of a
safe harbour on the continental coast.
The day of departure arrived. I gave the order to heave anchor at 8.45
a.m. on December 5, 1914, and the clanking of the windlass broke for us
the last link with civilization. The morning was dull and overcast,
with occasional gusts of snow and sleet, but hearts were light aboard
the _Endurance_. The long days of preparation were over and the
adventure lay ahead.
We had hoped that some steamer from the north would bring news of war
and perhaps letters from home before our departure. A ship did arrive
on the evening of the 4th, but she carried no letters, and nothing
useful in the way of information could be gleaned from her. The captain
and crew were all stoutly pro-German, and the “news” they had to give
took the unsatisfying form of accounts of British and French reverses.
We would have been glad to have had the latest tidings from a
friendlier source. A year and a half later we were to learn that the
_Harpoon_, the steamer which tends the Grytviken station, had arrived
with mail for us not more than two hours after the _Endurance_ had
proceeded down the coast.
The bows of the _Endurance_ were turned to the south, and the good ship
dipped to the south-westerly swell. Misty rain fell during the
forenoon, but the weather cleared later in the day, and we had a good
view of the coast of South Georgia as we moved under steam and sail to
the south-east. The course was laid to carry us clear of the island and
then south of South Thule, Sandwich Group. The wind freshened during
the day, and all square sail was set, with the foresail reefed in order
to give the look-out a clear view ahead; for we did not wish to risk
contact with a “growler,” one of those treacherous fragments of ice
that float with surface awash. The ship was very steady in the
quarterly sea, but certainly did not look as neat and trim as she had
done when leaving the shores of England four months earlier. We had
filled up with coal at Grytviken, and this extra fuel was stored on
deck, where it impeded movement considerably. The carpenter had built a
false deck, extending from the poop-deck to the chart-room. We had also
taken aboard a ton of whale-meat for the dogs. The big chunks of meat
were hung up in the rigging, out of reach but not out of sight of the
dogs, and as the _Endurance_ rolled and pitched, they watched with
wolfish eyes for a windfall.
I was greatly pleased with the dogs, which were tethered about the ship
in the most comfortable positions we could find for them. They were in
excellent condition, and I felt that the Expedition had the right
tractive-power. They were big, sturdy animals, chosen for endurance and
strength, and if they were as keen to pull our sledges as they were now
to fight one another all would be well. The men in charge of the dogs
were doing their work enthusiastically, and the eagerness they showed
to study the natures and habits of their charges gave promise of
efficient handling and good work later on.
During December 6 the _Endurance_ made good progress on a
south-easterly course. The northerly breeze had freshened during the
night and had brought up a high following sea. The weather was hazy,
and we passed two bergs, several growlers, and numerous lumps of ice.
Staff and crew were settling down to the routine. Bird life was
plentiful, and we noticed Cape pigeons, whale-birds, terns, mollymauks,
nellies, sooty, and wandering albatrosses in the neighbourhood of the
ship. The course was laid for the passage between Sanders Island and
Candlemas Volcano. December 7 brought the first check. At six o’clock
that morning the sea, which had been green in colour all the previous
day, changed suddenly to a deep indigo. The ship was behaving well in a
rough sea, and some members of the scientific staff were transferring
to the bunkers the coal we had stowed on deck. Sanders Island and
Candlemas were sighted early in the afternoon, and the _Endurance_
passed between them at 6 p.m. Worsley’s observations indicated that
Sanders Island was, roughly, three miles east and five miles north of
the charted position. Large numbers of bergs, mostly tabular in form,
lay to the west of the islands, and we noticed that many of them were
yellow with _diatoms_. One berg had large patches of red-brown soil
down its sides. The presence of so many bergs was ominous, and
immediately after passing between the islands we encountered
stream-ice. All sail was taken in and we proceeded slowly under steam.
Two hours later, fifteen miles north-east of Sanders Island, the
_Endurance_ was confronted by a belt of heavy pack-ice, half a mile
broad and extending north and south. There was clear water beyond, but
the heavy south-westerly swell made the pack impenetrable in our
neighbourhood. This was disconcerting. The noon latitude had been 57°
26´ S., and I had not expected to find pack-ice nearly so far north,
though the whalers had reported pack-ice right up to South Thule.
The situation became dangerous that night. We pushed into the pack in
the hope of reaching open water beyond, and found ourselves after dark
in a pool which was growing smaller and smaller. The ice was grinding
around the ship in the heavy swell, and I watched with some anxiety for
any indication of a change of wind to the east, since a breeze from
that quarter would have driven us towards the land. Worsley and I were
on deck all night, dodging the pack. At 3 a.m. we ran south, taking
advantage of some openings that had appeared, but met heavy rafted
pack-ice, evidently old; some of it had been subjected to severe
pressure. Then we steamed north-west and saw open water to the
north-east. I put the _Endurance’s_ head for the opening, and, steaming
at full speed, we got clear. Then we went east in the hope of getting
better ice, and five hours later, after some dodging, we rounded the
pack and were able to set sail once more. This initial tussle with the
pack had been exciting at times. Pieces of ice and bergs of all sizes
were heaving and jostling against each other in the heavy
south-westerly swell. In spite of all our care the _Endurance_ struck
large lumps stem on, but the engines were stopped in time and no harm
was done. The scene and sounds throughout the day were very fine. The
swell was dashing against the sides of huge bergs and leaping right to
the top of their icy cliffs. Sanders Island lay to the south, with a
few rocky faces peering through the misty, swirling clouds that swathed
it most of the time, the booming of the sea running into ice-caverns,
the swishing break of the swell on the loose pack, and the graceful
bowing and undulating of the inner pack to the steeply rolling swell,