South: The Story of Shackleton's Last Expedition, 1914-1917
had passed through. It is certainly the most convenient and efficient
door for these conditions that has ever been invented.
“Whilst the side walls of the hut were being fixed, others proceeded to
fill the interstices between the stones of the end walls with snow. As
this was very powdery and would not bind well, we eventually had to
supplement it with the only spare blanket and an overcoat. All this
work was very hard on our frost-bitten fingers, and materials were very
limited.
“At last all was completed and we were invited to bring in our sodden
bags, which had been lying out in the drizzling rain for several hours;
for the tents and boats that had previously sheltered them had all been
requisitioned to form our new residence.
“We took our places under Wild’s direction. There was no squabbling for
best places, but it was noticeable that there was something in the
nature of a rush for the billets up on the thwarts of the boats.
“Rickenson, who was still very weak and ill, but very cheery, obtained
a place in the boat directly above the stove, and the sailors having
lived under the _Stancomb Wills_ for a few days while she was upside
down on the beach, tacitly claimed it as their own, and flocked up on
to its thwarts as one man. There was one ‘upstair’ billet left in this
boat, which Wild offered to Hussey and Lees simultaneously, saying that
the first man that got his bag up could have the billet. Whilst Lees
was calculating the pros and cons Hussey got his bag, and had it up
just as Lees had determined that the pros had it. There were now four
men up on the thwarts of the _Dudley Docker_, and the five sailors and
Hussey on those of the _Stancomb Wills_, the remainder disposing
themselves on the floor.”
The floor was at first covered with snow and ice, frozen in amongst the
pebbles. This was cleared out, and the remainder of the tents spread
out over the stones. Within the shelter of these cramped but
comparatively palatial quarters cheerfulness once more reigned amongst
the party. The blizzard, however, soon discovered the flaws in the
architecture of their hut, and the fine drift-snow forced its way
through the crevices between the stones forming the end walls. Jaeger
sleeping-bags and coats were spread over the outside of these walls,
packed over with snow and securely frozen up, effectively keeping out
this drift.
At first all the cooking was done outside under the lee of some rocks,
further protection being provided by a wall of provision-cases. There
were two blubber-stoves made from old oil-drums, and one day, when the
blizzard was unusually severe, an attempt was made to cook the meals
inside the hut. There being no means of escape for the pungent
blubber-smoke, the inmates had rather a bad time, some being affected
with a form of smoke-blindness similar to snow-blindness, very painful
and requiring medical attention.
A chimney was soon fitted, made by Kerr out of the tin lining of one of
the biscuit-cases, and passed through a close-fitting tin grummet sewn
into the canvas of the roof just between the keels of the two boats,
and the smoke nuisance was soon a thing of the past. Later on, another
old oil-drum was made to surround this chimney, so that two pots could
be cooked at once on the one stove. Those whose billets were near the
stove suffered from the effects of the local thaw caused by its heat,
but they were repaid by being able to warm up portions of steak and
hooshes left over from previous meals, and even to warm up those of the
less fortunate ones, for a consideration. This consisted generally of
part of the hoosh or one or two pieces of sugar.
The cook and his assistant, which latter job was taken by each man in
turn, were called about 7 a.m., and breakfast was generally ready by
about 10 a.m.
Provision-cases were then arranged in a wide circle round the stove,
and those who were fortunate enough to be next to it could dry their
gear. So that all should benefit equally by this, a sort of “General
Post” was carried out, each man occupying his place at meal-times for
one day only, moving up one the succeeding day. In this way eventually
every man managed to dry his clothes, and life began to assume a much
brighter aspect.
The great trouble in the hut was the absence of light. The canvas walls
were covered with blubber-soot, and with the snowdrifts accumulating
round the hut its inhabitants were living in a state of perpetual
night. Lamps were fashioned out of sardine-tins, with bits of surgical
bandage for wicks; but as the oil consisted of seal-oil rendered down
from the blubber, the remaining fibrous tissue being issued very
sparingly at lunch, by the by, and being considered a great delicacy,
they were more a means of conserving the scanty store of matches than
of serving as illuminants.
Wild was the first to overcome this difficulty by sewing into the
canvas wall the glass lid of a chronometer box. Later on three other
windows were added, the material in this case being some celluloid
panels from a photograph case of mine which I had left behind in a bag.
This enabled the occupants of the floor billets who were near enough to
read and sew, which relieved the monotony of the situation
considerably.
“Our reading material consisted at this time of two books of poetry,
one book of ‘Nordenskjold’s Expedition,’ one or two torn volumes of the
‘Encyclopædia Britannica,’ and a penny cookery book, owned by Marston.
Our clothes, though never presentable, as they bore the scars of nearly
ten months of rough usage, had to be continually patched to keep them
together at all.”
As the floor of the hut had been raised by the addition of loads of
clean pebbles, from which most of the snow had been removed, during the
cold weather it was kept comparatively dry. When, however, the
temperature rose to just above freezing-point, as occasionally
happened, the hut became the drainage-pool of all the surrounding
hills. Wild was the first to notice it by remarking one morning that
his sleeping-bag was practically afloat. Other men examined theirs with
a like result, so baling operations commenced forthwith. Stones were
removed from the floor and a large hole dug, and in its gloomy depths
the water could be seen rapidly rising. Using a saucepan for a baler,
they baled out over 100 gallons of dirty water. The next day 150
gallons were removed, the men taking it in turns to bale at intervals
during the night; 160 more gallons were baled out during the next
twenty-four hours, till one man rather pathetically remarked in his
diary, “This is what nice, mild, high temperatures mean to us: no
wonder we prefer the cold.” Eventually, by removing a portion of one
wall a long channel was dug nearly down to the sea, completely solving
the problem. Additional precautions were taken by digging away the snow
which surrounded the hut after each blizzard, sometimes entirely
obscuring it.
A huge glacier across the bay behind the hut nearly put an end to the
party. Enormous blocks of ice weighing many tons would break off and
fall into the sea, the disturbance thus caused giving rise to great
waves. One day Marston was outside the hut digging up the frozen seal
for lunch with a pick, when a noise “like an artillery barrage”
startled him. Looking up he saw that one of these tremendous waves,
over thirty feet high, was advancing rapidly across the bay,
threatening to sweep hut and inhabitants into the sea. A hastily
shouted warning brought the men tumbling out, but fortunately the loose
ice which filled the bay damped the wave down so much that, though it
flowed right under the hut, nothing was carried away. It was a narrow
escape, though, as had they been washed into the sea nothing could have
saved them.
Although they themselves gradually became accustomed to the darkness
and the dirt, some entries in their diaries show that occasionally they
could realize the conditions under which they were living.
“The hut grows more grimy every day. Everything is a sooty black. We
have arrived at the limit where further increments from the smoking
stove, blubber-lamps, and cooking-gear are unnoticed. It is at least
comforting to feel that we can become no filthier. Our shingle floor
will scarcely bear examination by strong light without causing even us
to shudder and express our disapprobation at its state. Oil mixed with
reindeer hair, bits of meat, sennegrass, and penguin feathers form a
conglomeration which cements the stones together. From time to time we
have a spring cleaning, but a fresh supply of flooring material is not
always available, as all the shingle is frozen up and buried by deep
rifts. Such is our Home Sweet Home.”
“All joints are aching through being compelled to lie on the hard,
rubbly floor which forms our bedsteads.”
Again, later on, one writes: “Now that Wild’s window allows a shaft of
light to enter our hut, one can begin to ‘see’ things inside.
Previously one relied upon one’s sense of touch, assisted by the
remarks from those whose faces were inadvertently trodden on, to guide
one to the door. Looking down in the semi-darkness to the far end, one
observes two very small smoky flares that dimly illuminate a row of
five, endeavouring to make time pass by reading or argument. These are
Macklin, Kerr, Wordie, Hudson, and Blackborrow—the last two being
invalids.
“The centre of the hut is filled with the cases which do duty for the
cook’s bed, the meat and blubber boxes, and a mummified-looking object,
which is Lees in his sleeping-bag. The near end of the floor space is
taken up with the stove, with Wild and McIlroy on one side, and Hurley
and James on the other. Marston occupies a hammock most of the
night—and day—which is slung across the entrance. As he is large and
the entrance very small, he invariably gets bumped by those passing in
and out. His vocabulary at such times is interesting.
“In the attic, formed by the two upturned boats, live ten unkempt and
careless lodgers, who drop boots, mitts, and other articles of apparel
on to the men below. Reindeer hairs rain down incessantly day and
night, with every movement that they make in their moulting bags.
These, with penguin feathers and a little grit from the floor,
occasionally savour the hooshes. Thank heaven man is an adaptable
brute! If we dwell sufficiently long in this hut, we are likely to
alter our method of walking, for our ceiling, which is but four feet
six inches high at its highest part, compels us to walk bent double or
on all fours.
“Our doorway—Cheetham is just crawling in now, bringing a shower of
snow with him—was originally a tent entrance. When one wishes to go
out, one unties the cord securing the door, and crawls or wriggles out,
at the same time exclaiming ‘Thank goodness I’m in the open air!’ This
should suffice to describe the atmosphere inside the hut, only pleasant
when charged with the overpowering yet appetizing smell of burning
penguin steaks.
“From all parts there dangles an odd collection of blubbery garments,
hung up to dry, through which one crawls, much as a chicken in an
incubator. Our walls of tent-canvas admit as much light as might be
expected from a closed Venetian blind. It is astonishing how we have
grown accustomed to inconveniences, and tolerate, at least, habits
which a little time back were regarded with repugnance. We have no
forks, but each man has a sheath-knife and a spoon, the latter in many
cases having been fashioned from a piece of box lid. The knife serves
many purposes. With it we kill, skin, and cut up seals and penguins,