South: The Story of Shackleton's Last Expedition, 1914-1917
western shore of the Weddell Sea, terrific pressure is set up and an
inferno of ice-blocks, ridges, and hedgerows results, extending
possibly for 150 or 200 miles off shore. Sections of pressure ice may
drift away subsequently and become embedded in new ice.
I have given this brief explanation here in order that the reader may
understand the nature of the ice through which we pushed our way for
many hundreds of miles. Another point that may require to be explained
was the delay caused by wind while we were in the pack. When a strong
breeze or moderate gale was blowing the ship could not safely work
through any except young ice, up to about two feet in thickness. As ice
of that nature never extended for more than a mile or so, it followed
that in a gale in the pack we had always to lie to. The ship was 3 ft.
3 in. down by the stern, and while this saved the propeller and rudder
a good deal, it made the _Endurance_ practically unmanageable in close
pack when the wind attained a force of six miles an hour from ahead,
since the air currents had such a big surface forward to act upon. The
pressure of wind on bows and the yards of the foremast would cause the
bows to fall away, and in these conditions the ship could not be
steered into the narrow lanes and leads through which we had to thread
our way. The falling away of the bows, moreover, would tend to bring
the stern against the ice, compelling us to stop the engines in order
to save the propeller. Then the ship would become unmanageable and
drift away, with the possibility of getting excessive sternway on her
and so damaging rudder or propeller, the Achilles’ heel of a ship in
pack-ice.
While we were waiting for the weather to moderate and the ice to open,
I had the Lucas sounding-machine rigged over the rudder-trunk and found
the depth to be 2810 fathoms. The bottom sample was lost owing to the
line parting 60 fathoms from the end. During the afternoon three adelie
penguins approached the ship across the floe while Hussey was
discoursing sweet music on the banjo. The solemn-looking little birds
appeared to appreciate “It’s a Long Way to Tipperary,” but they fled in
horror when Hussey treated them to a little of the music that comes
from Scotland. The shouts of laughter from the ship added to their
dismay, and they made off as fast as their short legs would carry them.
The pack opened slightly at 6.15 p.m., and we proceeded through lanes
for three hours before being forced to anchor to a floe for the night.
We fired a Hjort mark harpoon, No. 171, into a blue whale on this day.
The conditions did not improve during December 19. A fresh to strong
northerly breeze brought haze and snow, and after proceeding for two
hours the _Endurance_ was stopped again by heavy floes. It was
impossible to manœuvre the ship in the ice owing to the strong wind,
which kept the floes in movement and caused lanes to open and close
with dangerous rapidity. The noon observation showed that we had made
six miles to the south-east in the previous twenty-four hours. All
hands were engaged during the day in rubbing shoots off our potatoes,
which were found to be sprouting freely. We remained moored to a floe
over the following day, the wind not having moderated; indeed, it
freshened to a gale in the afternoon, and the members of the staff and
crew took advantage of the pause to enjoy a vigorously contested game
of football on the level surface of the floe alongside the ship. Twelve
bergs were in sight at this time. The noon position was lat. 62° 42´
S., long. 17° 54´ W., showing that we had drifted about six miles in a
north-easterly direction.
Monday, December 21, was beautifully fine, with a gentle
west-north-westerly breeze. We made a start at 3 a.m. and proceeded
through the pack in a south-westerly direction. At noon we had gained
seven miles almost due east, the northerly drift of the pack having
continued while the ship was apparently moving to the south. Petrels of
several species, penguins, and seals were plentiful, and we saw four
small blue whales. At noon we entered a long lead to the southward and
passed around and between nine splendid bergs. One mighty specimen was
shaped like the Rock of Gibraltar but with steeper cliffs, and another
had a natural dock that would have contained the _Aquitania_. A spur of
ice closed the entrance to the huge blue pool. Hurley brought out his
kinematograph-camera, in order to make a record of these bergs. Fine
long leads running east and south-east among bergs were found during
the afternoon, but at midnight the ship was stopped by small, heavy
ice-floes, tightly packed against an unbroken plain of ice. The outlook
from the mast-head was not encouraging. The big floe was at least 15
miles long and 10 miles wide. The edge could not be seen at the widest
part, and the area of the floe must have been not less than 150 square
miles. It appeared to be formed of year-old ice, not very thick and
with very few hummocks or ridges in it. We thought it must have been
formed at sea in very calm weather and drifted up from the south-east.
I had never seen such a large area of unbroken ice in the Ross Sea.
We waited with banked fires for the strong easterly breeze to moderate
or the pack to open. At 6.30 p.m. on December 22 some lanes opened and
we were able to move towards the south again. The following morning
found us working slowly through the pack, and the noon observation gave
us a gain of 19 miles S. 41° W. for the seventeen and a half hours
under steam. Many year-old adelies, three crab-eaters, six
sea-leopards, one Weddell and two blue whales were seen. The air
temperature, which had been down to 25° Fahr. on December 21, had risen
to 34° Fahr. While we were working along leads to the southward in the
afternoon, we counted fifteen bergs. Three of these were table-topped,
and one was about 70 ft high and 5 miles long. Evidently it had come
from a barrier-edge. The ice became heavier but slightly more open, and
we had a calm night with fine long leads of open water. The water was
so still that new ice was forming on the leads. We had a run of 70
miles to our credit at noon on December 24, the position being lat. 64°
32´ S., long. 17° 17´ W. All the dogs except eight had been named. I do
not know who had been responsible for some of the names, which seemed
to represent a variety of tastes. They were as follows Rugby, Upton
Bristol, Millhill, Songster, Sandy, Mack, Mercury, Wolf, Amundsen,
Hercules, Hackenschmidt, Samson, Sammy, Skipper, Caruso, Sub, Ulysses,
Spotty, Bosun, Slobbers, Sadie, Sue, Sally, Jasper, Tim, Sweep, Martin,
Splitlip, Luke, Saint, Satan, Chips, Stumps, Snapper, Painful, Bob,
Snowball, Jerry, Judge, Sooty, Rufus, Sidelights, Simeon, Swanker,
Chirgwin, Steamer, Peter, Fluffy, Steward, Slippery, Elliott, Roy,
Noel, Shakespeare, Jamie, Bummer, Smuts, Lupoid, Spider, and Sailor.
Some of the names, it will be noticed, had a descriptive flavour.
Heavy floes held up the ship from midnight till 6 a.m. on December 25,
Christmas Day. Then they opened a little and we made progress till
11.30 a.m., when the leads closed again. We had encountered good leads
and workable ice during the early part of the night, and the noon
observation showed that our run for the twenty-four hours was the best
since we entered the pack a fortnight earlier. We had made 71 miles S.
4° W. The ice held us up till the evening, and then we were able to
follow some leads for a couple of hours before the tightly packed floes
and the increasing wind compelled a stop. The celebration of Christmas
was not forgotten. Grog was served at midnight to all on deck. There
was grog again at breakfast, for the benefit of those who had been in
their bunks at midnight. Lees had decorated the wardroom with flags and
had a little Christmas present for each of us. Some of us had presents
from home to open. Later there was a really splendid dinner, consisting
of turtle soup, whitebait, jugged hare, Christmas pudding, mince-pies,
dates, figs and crystallized fruits, with rum and stout as drinks. In
the evening everybody joined in a “sing-song.” Hussey had made a
one-stringed violin, on which, in the words of Worsley, he “discoursed
quite painlessly.” The wind was increasing to a moderate south-easterly
gale and no advance could be made, so we were able to settle down to
the enjoyments of the evening.
The weather was still bad on December 26 and 27, and the _Endurance_
remained anchored to a floe. The noon position on the 26th was lat. 65°
43´ S., long. 17° 36´ W. We made another sounding on this day with the
Lucas machine and found bottom at 2819 fathoms. The specimen brought up
was a terrigenous blue mud (glacial deposit) with some _radiolaria_.
Every one took turns at the work of heaving in, two men working
together in ten-minute spells.
Sunday, December 27, was a quiet day aboard. The southerly gale was
blowing the snow in clouds off the floe and the temperature had fallen
to 23° Fahr. The dogs were having an uncomfortable time in their deck
quarters. The wind had moderated by the following morning, but it was
squally with snow-flurries, and I did not order a start till 11 p.m.
The pack was still close, but the ice was softer and more easily
broken. During the pause the carpenter had rigged a small stage over
the stern. A man was stationed there to watch the propeller and prevent
it striking heavy ice, and the arrangement proved very valuable. It
saved the rudder as well as the propeller from many blows.
The high winds that had prevailed for four and a half days gave way to
a gentle southerly breeze in the evening of December 29. Owing to the
drift we were actually eleven miles farther north than we had been on
December 25. But we made fairly good progress on the 30th in fine,
clear weather. The ship followed a long lead to the south-east during
the afternoon and evening, and at 11 p.m. we crossed the Antarctic
Circle. An examination of the horizon disclosed considerable breaks in
the vast circle of pack-ice, interspersed with bergs of different
sizes. Leads could be traced in various directions, but I looked in
vain for an indication of open water. The sun did not set that night,
and as it was concealed behind a bank of clouds we had a glow of
crimson and gold to the southward, with delicate pale green reflections
in the water of the lanes to the south-east.
The ship had a serious encounter with the ice on the morning of
December 31. We were stopped first by floes closing around us, and then
about noon the _Endurance_ got jammed between two floes heading
east-north-east. The pressure heeled the ship over six degrees while we
were getting an ice-anchor on to the floe in order to heave astern and
thus assist the engines, which were running at full speed. The effort
was successful. Immediately afterwards, at the spot where the
_Endurance_ had been held, slabs of ice 50 ft. by 15 ft. and 4 ft.
thick were forced ten or twelve feet up on the lee floe at an angle of
45°. The pressure was severe, and we were not sorry to have the ship
out of its reach. The noon position was lat. 66° 47´ S., long. 15° 52´
W., and the run for the preceding twenty-four hours was 51 miles S. 29°
E.
“Since noon the character of the pack has improved,” wrote Worsley on
this day. “Though the leads are short, the floes are rotten and easily
broken through if a good place is selected with care and judgment. In
many cases we find large sheets of young ice through which the ship
cuts for a mile or two miles at a stretch. I have been conning and
working the ship from the crow’s-nest and find it much the best place,
as from there one can see ahead and work out the course beforehand, and