South: The Story of Shackleton's Last Expedition, 1914-1917
mistake it for a tabular island. It will be interesting to view our
companion in the returning light—unless we are too close to it!
“_July_ 5.—Dull grey day (during twilight) with light, variable,
westerly breezes. All around hangs a heavy curtain of haze, and,
although very light snow is falling, overhead is black and clear with
stars shining. As soon as the faint noon light fades away the heavy low
haze intensifies the darkness and makes one thankful that one has a
good firm ‘berth’ in the ice. I don’t care to contemplate the scene if
the ice should break up at the present time.
“_July_ 6.—Last night I thought I saw open water in the shape of a long
black lane to the southward of the ship and extending in an easterly
and westerly direction, but owing to the haze and light snow I could
not be sure; this morning the lane was distinctly visible and appeared
to be two or three hundred yards wide and two miles long.... At 6 p.m.
loud pressure-noises would be heard from the direction of the open lane
and continued throughout the night. Shortly after 8 o’clock the
grinding and hissing spread to our starboard bow (west-south-west), and
the vibration caused by the pressure could be felt intermittently on
board the ship.... The incessant grinding and grating of the ice to the
southward, with seething noises, as of water rushing under the ship’s
bottom, and ominous sounds, kept me on the _qui vive_ all night, and
the prospect of a break-up of the ice would have wracked my nerves had
I not had them numbed by previous experiences.
“_July_ 9.—At noon the sky to the northward had cleared sufficiently to
allow of seeing Mount Melbourne, which appears now as a low peak to the
north-west. Ship’s position is twenty-eight miles north-north-east of
Franklin Island. On the port bow and ahead of the ship there are some
enormous pressure-ridges; they seem to be the results of the recent and
present ice-movements. Pressure heard from the southward all day.
“_July_ 13.—At 5 p.m. very heavy pressure was heard on the port beam
and bow (south) and very close to the ship. This occurred again at
irregular intervals. Quite close to the ship the ice could be seen
bending upwards, and occasional jars were felt on board. I am inclined
to think that we have set into a cul-de-sac and that we will now
experience the full force of pressure from the south. We have prepared
for the worst and can only hope for the best—a release from the ice
with a seaworthy vessel under us.
“_July_ 18.—This has been a day of events. About 8 a.m. the horizon to
the north became clear and, as the light grew, the more westerly land
showed up. This is the first clear day that we have had since the 9th
of the month, and we have set a considerable distance to the north-east
in the meantime. By meridian altitudes of stars and bearings of the
land, which proved to be Coulman Islands, Mount Murchison, and Mount
Melbourne, our position shows seventy-eight miles (geographical)
north-east by north of Franklin Island. During the last three days we
have drifted forty miles (geographical), so there has been ample reason
for all the grinding and growling of pressure lately. The ship endured
some severe squeezes this day.
“_July_ 20.—Shortly before breakfast the raucous voice of the emperor
penguin was heard, and afterwards two were seen some distance from the
ship.... The nearest mainland (in vicinity of Cape Washington) is
ninety miles distant, as also is Coulman Island. Franklin Island is
eighty miles south-east by south, and the pack is in motion. This is
the emperor’s hatching season, and here we meet them out in the
cheerless desert of ice.... 10.45 p.m.—Heavy pressure around ship,
lanes opened and ship worked astern about twenty feet. The wires in the
ice took the strain (lashings at mizzen chains carried away) and
carried away fair-lead bollard on port side of forecastle head.
“_July_ 21, 1 a.m.—Lanes opened to about 40 ft. wide. Ship in open pool
about 100 ft. wide. Heavy pressure in vicinity of ship. Called all
hands and cut wires at the forecastle head. [These wires had remained
frozen in the ice after the ship broke away from her moorings, and they
had served a useful purpose at some times by checking ice-movements
close to the ship.] 2 a.m.—Ship swung athwart lane as the ice opened,
and the floes on the port side pressed her stern round. 11.30 a.m.—Pack
of killer whales came up in the lane around the ship. Some broke soft
ice (about one inch thick) and pushed their heads through, rising to
five or six feet perpendicularly out of the water. They were apparently
having a look round. It is strange to see killers in this immense field
of ice; open water must be near, I think. 5.15 p.m.—New ice of lanes
cracked and opened. Floes on port side pushed stern on to ice (of
floe); floes then closed in and nipped the ship fore and aft. The
rudder was bent over to starboard and smashed. The solid oak and iron
went like matchwood. 8 p.m.—Moderate south-south-west gale with drift.
Much straining of timbers with pressure. 10 p.m.—Extra hard nip fore
and aft; ship visibly hogged. Heavy pressure.
“_July_ 22.—Ship in bad position in newly frozen lane, with bow and
stern jammed against heavy floes; heavy strain with much creaking and
groaning. 8 a.m.—Called all hands to stations for sledges, and made
final preparations for abandoning ship. Allotted special duties to
several hands to facilitate quickness in getting clear should ship be
crushed. Am afraid the ship’s back will be broken if the pressure
continues, but cannot relieve her. 2 p.m.—Ship lying easier. Poured
Sulphuric acid on the ice astern in hopes of rotting crack and
relieving pressure on stern-post, but unsuccessfully. Very heavy
pressure on and around ship (taking strain fore and aft and on
starboard quarter). Ship, jumping and straining and listing badly. 10
p.m.—Ship has crushed her way into new ice on starboard side and slewed
aslant lane with stern-post clear of land-ice. 12 p.m.—Ship is in safer
position; lanes opening in every direction.
“_July_ 23.—Caught glimpse of Coulman Island through haze. Position of
ship south 14° east (true), eighty miles off Coulman Island. Pressure
continued intermittently throughout the day and night, with occasional
very heavy squeezes to the ship which made timbers crack and groan. The
ship’s stern is now in a more or less soft bed, formed of recently
frozen ice of about one foot in thickness. I thank God that we have
been spared through this fearful nightmare. I shall never forget the
concertina motions of the ship during yesterday’s and Wednesday’s fore
and aft nips.
“_July_ 24.—Compared with previous days this is a quiet one. The lanes
have been opening and closing, and occasionally the ship gets a nasty
squeeze against the solid floe on our starboard quarter. The more lanes
that open the better, as they form ‘springs’ (when covered with thin
ice, which makes to a thickness of three or four inches in a few hours)
between the solid and heavier floes and fields. Surely we have been
guided by the hands of Providence to have come in heavy grinding pack
for over two hundred miles (geographical), skirting the ice-bound
western shore, around and to the north of Franklin Island, and now into
what appears a clear path to the open sea! In view of our precarious
position and the lives of men in jeopardy, I sent this evening an
aerogram to H. M. King George asking for a relief ship. I hope the
wireless gets through. I have sent this message after much
consideration, and know that in the event of our non-arrival in New
Zealand on the specified date (November 1) a relief ship will be sent
to aid the Southern Party.
“_July_ 25.—Very heavy pressure about the ship. During the early hours
a large field on the port quarter came charging up, and on meeting our
floe tossed up a ridge from ten to fifteen feet high. The blocks of ice
as they broke off crumbled and piled over each other to the
accompaniment of a thunderous roar. Throughout the day the pressure
continued, the floes alternately opening and closing, and the ship
creaking and groaning during the nips between floes.
“_August_ 4.—For nine days we have had southerly winds, and the last
four we have experienced howling blizzards. I am sick of the sound of
the infernal wind. Din! Din! Din! and darkness. We should have seen the
sun to-day, but a bank of cumulus effectually hid him, although the
daylight is a never-ending joy.
“_August_ 6.—The wind moderated towards 6 a.m., and about breakfast
time, with a clear atmosphere, the land from near Cape Cotter to Cape
Adare was visible. What a day of delights! After four days of thick
weather we find ourselves in sight of Cape Adare in a position about
forty-five miles east of Possession Isles; in this time we have been
set one hundred miles. Good going. Mount Sabine, the first land seen by
us when coming south, lies away to the westward, forming the highest
peak (10,000 ft.) of a majestic range of mountains covered in eternal
snow. Due west we can see the Possession Islands, lying under the
stupendous bluff of Cape Downshire, which shows large patches of black
rock. The land slopes down to the north-west of Cape Downshire, and
rises again into the high peninsula about Cape Adore. We felt excited
this morning in anticipation of seeing the sun, which rose about
nine-thirty (local time). It was a glorious, joyful sight. We drank to
something, and with very light hearts gave cheers for the sun.
“_August_ 9.—Donolly got to work on the rudder again. It is a long job
cutting through the iron sheathing-plates of the rudder, and not too
safe at present, as the ice is treacherous. Hooke says that the
conditions are normal now. I wish for his sake that he could get
through. He is a good sportsman and keeps on trying, although, I am
convinced, he has little hope with this inadequate aerial.
“_August_ 10.—The ship’s position is lat. 70° 40´ S., forty miles north
29° east of Cape Adare. The distance drifted from August 2 to 6 was one
hundred miles, and from the 6th to the 10th eighty-eight miles.
“_August_ 12.—By observation and bearings of land we are forty-five
miles north-east of Cape Adare, in lat. 70° 42´ S. This position is a
little to the eastward of the position on the 10th. The bearings as
laid off on a small scale chart of gnomonic projection are very
inaccurate, and here we are handicapped, as our chronometers have lost
all regularity. Donolly and Grade are having quite a job with the iron
platings on the rudder, but should finish the cutting to-morrow. A
jury-rudder is nearly completed. This afternoon we mixed some concrete
for the lower part, and had to use boiling water, as the water froze in
the mixing. The carpenter has made a good job of the rudder, although
he has had to construct it on the quarterdeck in low temperatures and
exposed to biting blasts.
“_August_ 16.—We are ‘backing and filling’ about forty miles north-east
of Cape Adare. This is where we expected to have made much mileage.
However, we cannot grumble and must be patient. There was much mirage
to the northward, and from the crow’s-nest a distinct appearance of
open water could be seen stretching from north-north-west to
north-east.
“_August_ 17.—A glorious day! Land is distinctly visible, and to the
northward the black fringe of water-sky over the horizon hangs
continuously. Hooke heard Macquarie Island ‘speaking’ Hobart. The
message heard was the finish of the weather reports. We have hopes now
of news in the near future.
“_August_ 23.—Saw the land in the vicinity of Cape North. To the
south-south-west the white cliffs and peaks of the inland ranges were
very distinct, and away in the distance to the south-west could be seen