South: The Story of Shackleton's Last Expedition, 1914-1917
like to eat at that moment if he were allowed to have anything that he
wanted. All, with but one exception, desired a suet pudding of some
sort—the “duff” beloved of sailors. Macklin asked for many returns of
scrambled eggs on hot buttered toast. Several voted for “a prodigious
Devonshire dumpling,” while Wild wished for “any old dumpling so long
as it was a large one.” The craving for carbohydrates, such as flour
and sugar, and for fats was very real. Marston had with him a small
penny cookery book. From this he would read out one recipe each night,
so as to make them last. This would be discussed very seriously, and
alterations and improvements suggested, and then they would turn into
their bags to dream of wonderful meals that they could never reach. The
following conversation was recorded in one diary:
“WILD: ‘Do you like doughnuts?’
“McILROY: ‘Rather!’
“WILD: ‘Very easily made, too. I like them cold with a little jam.’
“McILROY: ‘Not bad; but how about a huge omelette?’
“WILD: ‘Fine!’ (with a deep sigh).
“Overhead, two of the sailors are discussing, some extraordinary
mixture of hash, apple-sauce, beer, and cheese. Marston is in his
hammock reading from his penny cookery book. Farther down, some one
eulogizes Scotch shortbread. Several of the sailors are talking of
spotted dog, sea-pie, and Lockhart’s with great feeling. Some one
mentions nut-food, whereat the conversation becomes general, and we all
decide to buy one pound’s worth of it as soon as we get to
civilization, and retire to a country house to eat it undisturbed. At
present we really mean it, too!”
Midwinter’s day, the great Polar festival, was duly observed. A
“magnificent breakfast” of sledging ration hoosh, full strength and
well boiled to thicken it, with hot milk was served. Luncheon consisted
of a wonderful pudding, invented by Wild, made of powdered biscuit
boiled with twelve pieces of mouldy nut-food. Supper was a very finely
cut seal hoosh flavoured with sugar.
After supper they had a concert, accompanied by Hussey on his
“indispensable banjo.” This banjo was the last thing to be saved off
the ship before she sank, and I took it with us as a mental tonic. It
was carried all the way through with us, and landed on Elephant Island
practically unharmed, and did much to keep the men cheerful. Nearly
every Saturday night such a concert was held, when each one sang a song
about some other member of the party. If that other one objected to
some of the remarks, a worse one was written for the next week.
The cook, who had carried on so well and for so long, was given a rest
on August 9, and each man took it in turns to be cook for one week. As
the cook and his “mate” had the privilege of scraping out the
saucepans, there was some anxiety to secure the job, especially amongst
those with the larger appetites. “The last of the methylated spirit was
drunk on August 12, and from then onwards the King’s health,
‘sweethearts and wives,’ and ‘the Boss and crew of the _Caird_,’ were
drunk in hot water and ginger every Saturday night.”
The penguins and seals which had migrated north at the beginning of
winter had not yet returned, or else the ice-foot, which surrounded the
spit to a thickness of six feet, prevented them from coming ashore, so
that food was getting short. Old seal-bones, that had been used once
for a meal and then thrown away, were dug up and stewed down with
sea-water. Penguin carcasses were treated likewise. Limpets were
gathered from the pools disclosed between the rocks below high tide,
after the pack-ice had been driven away. It was a cold job gathering
these little shell-fish, as for each one the whole hand and arm had to
be plunged into the icy water, and many score of these small creatures
had to be collected to make anything of a meal. Seaweed boiled in
sea-water was used to eke out the rapidly diminishing stock of seal and
penguin meat. This did not agree with some of the party. Though it was
acknowledged to be very tasty it only served to increase their
appetite—a serious thing when there was nothing to satisfy it with! One
man remarked in his diary: “We had a sumptuous meal to-day—nearly five
ounces of solid food each.”
It is largely due to Wild, and to his energy, initiative, and resource,
that the whole party kept cheerful all along, and, indeed, came out
alive and so well. Assisted by the two surgeons, Drs. McIlroy and
Macklin, he had ever a watchful eye for the health of each one. His
cheery optimism never failed, even when food was very short and the
prospect of relief seemed remote. Each one in his diary speaks with
admiration of him. I think without doubt that all the party who were
stranded on Elephant Island owe their lives to him. The demons of
depression could find no foothold when he was around; and, not content
with merely “telling,” he was “doing” as much as, and very often more
than, the rest. He showed wonderful capabilities of leadership and more
than justified the absolute confidence that I placed in him. Hussey,
with his cheeriness and his banjo, was another vital factor in chasing
away any tendency to downheartedness.
Once they were settled in their hut, the health of the party was quite
good. Of course, they were all a bit weak, some were light-headed, all
were frost-bitten, and others, later, had attacks of heart failure.
Blackborrow, whose toes were so badly frost-bitten in the boats, had to
have all five amputated while on the island. With insufficient
instruments and no proper means of sterilizing them, the operation,
carried out as it was in a dark, grimy hut, with only a blubber-stove
to keep up the temperature and with an outside temperature well below
freezing, speaks volumes for the skill and initiative of the surgeons.
I am glad to be able to say that the operation was very successful, and
after a little treatment ashore, very kindly given by the Chilian
doctors at Punta Arenas, he has now completely recovered and walks with
only a slight limp. Hudson, who developed bronchitis and hip disease,
was practically well again when the party was rescued. All trace of the
severe frost-bites suffered in the boat journey had disappeared, though
traces of recent superficial ones remained on some. All were naturally
weak when rescued, owing to having been on such scanty rations for so
long, but all were alive and very cheerful, thanks to Frank Wild.
August 30, 1916, is described in their diaries as a “day of wonders.”
Food was very short, only two days’ seal and penguin meat being left,
and no prospect of any more arriving. The whole party had been
collecting limpets and seaweed to eat with the stewed seal bones. Lunch
was being served by Wild, Hurley and Marston waiting outside to take a
last long look at the direction from which they expected the ship to
arrive. From a fortnight after I had left, Wild would roll up his
sleeping-bag each day with the remark, “Get your things ready, boys,
the Boss may come to-day.” And sure enough, one day the mist opened and
revealed the ship for which they had been waiting and longing and
hoping for over four months. “Marston was the first to notice it, and
immediately yelled out ‘Ship O!’ The inmates of the hut mistook it for
a call of ‘Lunch O!’ so took no notice at first. Soon, however, we
heard him pattering along the snow as fast as he could run, and in a
gasping, anxious voice, hoarse with excitement, he shouted, ‘Wild,
there’s a ship! Hadn’t we better light a flare?’ We all made one dive
for our narrow door. Those who could not get through tore down the
canvas walls in their hurry and excitement. The hoosh-pot with our
precious limpets and seaweed was kicked over in the rush. There, just
rounding the island which had previously hidden her from our sight, we
saw a little ship flying the Chilian flag.
“We tried to cheer, but excitement had gripped our vocal chords.
Macklin had made a rush for the flagstaff, previously placed in the
most conspicuous position on the ice-slope. The running-gear would not
work, and the flag was frozen into a solid, compact mass so he tied his
jersey to the top of the pole for a signal.
“Wild put a pick through our last remaining tin of petrol, and soaking
coats, mitts, and socks with it, carried them to the top of Penguin
Hill at the end of our spit, and soon, they were ablaze.
“Meanwhile most of us had gathered on the foreshore watching with
anxious eyes for any signs that the ship had seen us, or for any
answering signals. As we stood and gazed she seemed to turn away as if
she had not seen us. Again and again we cheered, though our feeble
cries could certainly not have carried so far. Suddenly she stopped, a
boat was lowered, and we could recognize Sir Ernest’s figure as he
climbed down the ladder. Simultaneously we burst into a cheer, and then
one said to the other, ‘Thank God, the Boss is safe.’ For I think that
his safety was of more concern to us than was our own.
“Soon the boat approached near enough for the Boss, who was standing up
in the bows, to shout to Wild, ‘Are you all well?’ To which he replied,
‘All safe, all well,’ and we could see a smile light up the Boss’s face
as he said, ‘Thank God!’
“Before he could land he threw ashore handsful of cigarettes and
tobacco; and these the smokers, who for two months had been trying to
find solace in such substitutes as seaweed, finely chopped pipe-bowls,
seal meat, and sennegrass, grasped greedily.
“Blackborrow, who could not walk, had been carried to a high rock and
propped up in his sleeping-bag, so that he could view the wonderful
scene.
“Soon we were tumbling into the boat, and the Chilian sailors, laughing
up at us, seemed as pleased at our rescue as we were. Twice more the
boat returned, and within an hour of our first having sighted the boat
we were heading northwards to the outer world from which we had had no
news since October 1914, over twenty-two months before. We are like men
awakened from a long sleep. We are trying to acquire suddenly the
perspective which the rest of the world has acquired gradually through
two years of war. There are many events which have happened of which we
shall never know.
“Our first meal, owing to our weakness and the atrophied state of our
stomachs, proved disastrous to a good many. They soon recovered though.
Our beds were just shake-downs on cushions and settees, though the
officer on watch very generously gave up his bunk to two of us. I think
we got very little sleep that night. It was just heavenly to lie and
listen to the throb of the engines, instead of to the crack of the
breaking floe, the beat of the surf on the ice-strewn shore, or the
howling of the blizzard.
“We intend to keep August 30 as a festival for the rest of our lives.”
You readers can imagine my feelings as I stood in the little cabin
watching my rescued comrades feeding.
CHAPTER XIII
THE ROSS SEA PARTY
I now turn to the fortunes and misfortunes of the Ross Sea Party and
the _Aurora_. In spite of extraordinary difficulties occasioned by the
breaking out of the _Aurora_ from her winter quarters before sufficient
stores and equipment had been landed, Captain Æneas Mackintosh and the
party under his command achieved the object of this side of the
Expedition. For the depot that was the main object of the Expedition
was laid in the spot that I had indicated, and if the transcontinental
party had been fortunate enough to have crossed they would have found
the assistance, in the shape of stores, that would have been vital to
the success of their undertaking. Owing to the dearth of stores,
clothing, and sledging equipment, the depot party was forced to travel