South: The Story of Shackleton's Last Expedition, 1914-1917
traps for the men. Stenhouse thought that a stiff blizzard would break
up the pack. His anxiety was increasing with the advance of the season,
and his log is a record of deep yearning to be free and active again.
But the grip of the pack was inexorable. The hands had plenty of work
on the _Aurora_, which was being made shipshape after the buffeting of
the winter storms. Seals and penguins were seen frequently, and the
supply of fresh meat was maintained. The jury-rudder was ready to be
shipped when the ship was released, but in the meantime it was not
being exposed to the attacks of the ice.
“No appreciable change in our surroundings,” was the note for December
17. “Every day past now reduces our chance of getting out in time to go
north for rudder, anchors, and coal. If we break out before January 15
we might get north to New Zealand and down to Cape Evans again in time
to pick up the parties. After that date we can only attempt to go south
in our crippled state, and short of fuel. With only nine days’ coal on
board we would have little chance of working through any Ross Sea pack,
or of getting south at all if we encountered many blizzards. Still
there is a sporting chance and luck may be with us.... Shackleton may
be past the Pole now. I wish our wireless calls had got through.”
Christmas Day, with its special dinner and mild festivities, came and
passed, and still the ice remained firm. The men were finding some
interest in watching the moulting of emperor penguins, who were
stationed at various points in the neighbourhood of the ship. They had
taken station to leeward of hummocks, and appeared to move only when
the wind changed or the snow around them had become foul. They covered
but a few yards on these journeys, and even then stumbled in their
weakness. One emperor was brought on board alive, and the crew were
greatly amused to see the bird balancing himself on heels and tail,
with upturned toes, the position adopted when the egg is resting on the
feet during the incubation period. The threat of a stiff “blow” aroused
hopes of release several times, but the blizzard—probably the first
Antarctic blizzard that was ever longed for—did not arrive. New Year’s
Day found Stenhouse and other men just recovering from an attack of
snow-blindness, contracted by making an excursion across the floes
without snow-goggles.
At the end of the first week in January the ship was in lat. 65° 45´ S.
The pack was well broken a mile from the ship, and the ice was rolling
fast. Under the bows and stern the pools were growing and stretching
away in long lanes to the west. A seal came up to blow under the stern
on the 6th, proving that there was an opening in the sunken ice there.
Stenhouse was economizing in food. No breakfast was served on the ship,
and seal or penguin meat was used for at least one of the two meals
later in the day. All hands were short of clothing, but Stenhouse was
keeping intact the sledging gear intended for the use of the shore
party. Strong, variable winds on the 9th raised hopes again, and on the
morning of the 10th the ice appeared to be well broken from half a mile
to a mile distant from the ship in all directions. “It seems
extraordinary that the ship should be held in an almost unbroken floe
of about a mile square, the more so as this patch was completely
screwed and broken during the smash in July, and contains many faults.
In almost any direction at a distance of half a mile from the ship
there are pressure ridges of eight-inch ice piled twenty feet high. It
was provident that although so near these ridges were escaped.”
The middle of January was passed and the _Aurora_ lay still in the ice.
The period of continuous day was drawing towards its close, and there
was an appreciable twilight at midnight. A dark water-sky could be seen
on the northern horizon. The latitude on January 24 was 65° 39½´ S.
Towards the end of the month Stenhouse ordered a thorough overhaul of
the stores and general preparations for a move. The supply of flour and
butter was ample. Other stores were running low, and the crew lost no
opportunity of capturing seals and penguins. Adelies were travelling to
the east-south-east in considerable numbers, but they could not be
taken unless they approached the ship closely, owing to the soft
condition of the ice. The wireless plant, which had been idle during
the months of daylight, had been rigged again, and Hooke resumed his
calls to Macquarie Island on February 2. He listened in vain for any
indication that he had been heard. The pack was showing much movement,
but the large floe containing the ship remained firm.
The break-up of the floe came on February 12. Strong north-east to
south-east winds put the ice in motion and brought a perceptible swell.
The ship was making some water, a fore-taste of a trouble to come, and
all hands spent the day at the pumps, reducing the water from three
feet eight and a half inches in the well to twelve inches, in spite of
frozen pipes and other difficulties. Work had just finished for the
night when the ice broke astern and quickly split in all directions
under the influence of the swell. The men managed to save some seal
meat which had been cached in a drift near the gangway. They lost the
flagstaff, which had been rigged as a wireless mast out on the floe,
but drew in the aerial. The ship was floating now amid fragments of
floe, and bumping considerably in the swell. A fresh southerly wind
blew during the night, and the ship started to forge ahead gradually
without sail. At 8.30 a.m. on the 13th Stenhouse set the foresail and
foretopmast staysail, and the _Aurora_ moved northward slowly, being
brought up occasionally by large floes. Navigation under such
conditions, without steam and without a rudder, was exceedingly
difficult, but Stenhouse wished if possible to save his small remaining
stock of coal until he cleared the pack, so that a quick run might be
made to McMurdo Sound. The jury-rudder could not be rigged in the pack.
The ship was making about three and a half feet of water in the
twenty-four hours, a quantity easily kept in check by the pumps.
During the 14th the _Aurora_ worked very slowly northward through heavy
pack. Occasionally the yards were backed or an ice-anchor put into a
floe to help her out of difficult places, but much of the time she
steered herself. The jury-rudder boom was topped into position in the
afternoon, but the rudder was not to be shipped until open pack or open
water was reached. The ship was held up all day on the 15th in lat. 64°
38´ S. Heavy floes barred progress in every direction. Attempts were
made to work the ship by trimming sails and warping with ice-anchors,
but she could not be manœuvred smartly enough to take advantage of
leads that opened and closed. This state of affairs continued
throughout the 16th. That night a heavy swell was rolling under the ice
and the ship had a rough time. One pointed floe ten or twelve feet
thick was steadily battering, with a three-feet send, against the
starboard side, and fenders only partially deadened the shock. “It is
no use butting against this pack with steam-power,” wrote Stenhouse.
“We would use all our meagre supply of coal in reaching the limit of
the ice in sight, and then we would be in a hole, with neither ballast
nor fuel.... But if this stagnation lasts another week we will have to
raise steam and consume our coal in an endeavour to get into navigable
waters. I am afraid our chances of getting south are very small now.”
The pack remained close, and on the 21st a heavy swell made the
situation dangerous. The ship bumped heavily that night and fenders
were of little avail. With each “send” of the swell the ship would bang
her bows on the floe ahead, then bounce back and smash into another
floe across her stern-post. This floe, about six feet thick and 100 ft.
across, was eventually split and smashed by the impacts. The pack was
jammed close on the 23rd, when the noon latitude was 64° 36½´ S. The
next change was for the worse. The pack loosened on the night of the
25th, and a heavy north-west swell caused the ship to bump heavily.
This state of affairs recurred at intervals in succeeding days. “The
battering and ramming of the floes increased in the early hours [of
February 29] until it seemed as if some sharp floe or jagged underfoot
must go through the ship’s hull. At 6 a.m. we converted a large
coir-spring into a fender, and slipped it under the port quarter, where
a pressured floe with twenty to thirty feet underfoot was threatening
try knock the propeller and stern-post off altogether. At 9 a.m., after
pumping ship, the engineer reported a leak in the way of the
propeller-shaft aft near the stern-post on the port side. The carpenter
cut part of the lining and filled the space between the timbers with
Stockholm tar, cement, and oakum. He could not get at the actual leak,
but his makeshift made a little difference. I am anxious about the
propeller. This pack is a dangerous place for a ship now; it seems
miraculous that the old Barky still floats.”
The ice opened out a little on March 1. It was imperative to get the
ship out of her dangerous situation quickly; as winter was approaching,
and Stenhouse therefore ordered steam to be raised. Next morning he had
the spanker gaff rigged over the stern for use as a temporary rudder
while in the heavy pack. Steam had been raised to working pressure at
5.15 p.m. on the 2nd, and the _Aurora_ began to work ahead to the
westward. Progress was very slow owing to heavy floes and deep
underfoots, which necessitated frequent stoppages of the engines. Open
water was in sight to the north and north-west the next morning, after
a restless night spent among the rocking floes. But progress was very
slow. The _Aurora_ went to leeward under the influence of a
west-south-west breeze, and steering by means of the yards and a
warp-anchor was a ticklish business. The ship came to a full stop among
heavy floes before noon on the 3rd, and three hours later, after vain
attempts to warp ahead by means of ice-anchors, Stenhouse had the fires
partially drawn (to save coal) and banked.
No advance was made on March 4 and 5. A moderate gale from the
east-north-east closed the ice and set it in motion, and the _Aurora_,
with banked fires, rolled and bumped, heavily. Seventeen bergs were in
sight, and one of them was working southwards into the pack and
threatening to approach the ship. During the night the engines were
turned repeatedly by the action of ice on the propeller blades. “All
theories about the swell being non-existent in the pack are false,”
wrote the anxious master. “Here we are with a suggestion only of open
water-sky, and the ship rolling her scuppers under and sitting down
bodily on the floes.” The ice opened when the wind moderated, and on
the afternoon of the 6th the _Aurora_ moved northward again. “Without a
rudder (no jury-rudder can yet be used amongst these swirling, rolling
floes) the ship requires a lot of attention. Her head must be pointed
between floes by means of ice-anchors and warps, or by mooring to a
floe and steaming round it. We kept a fairly good course between two
bergs to our northward and made about five miles northing till,
darkness coming on, the men could no longer venture on the floes with
safety to fix the anchors.”
The next three days were full of anxiety. The _Aurora_ was held by the
ice, and subjected to severe buffeting, while two bergs approached from
the north. On the morning of the 10th the nearest berg was within three
cables of the ship. But the pack had opened and by 9.30 a.m. the ship
was out of the danger zone and headed north-north-east. The pack
continued to open during the afternoon, and the _Aurora_ passed through