South: The Story of Shackleton's Last Expedition, 1914-1917
in blue water, with a path clear ahead and the miles falling away
behind us, was a joyful experience after the long struggle through the
ice-lanes. But, like other good things, our spell of free movement had
to end. The _Endurance_ encountered the ice again at 1 a.m. on the
10th. Loose pack stretched to east and south, with open water to the
west and a good watersky. It consisted partly of heavy hummocky ice
showing evidence of great pressure, but contained also many thick, flat
floes evidently formed in some sheltered bay and never subjected to
pressure or to much motion. The swirl of the ship’s wash brought
diatomaceous scum from the sides of this ice. The water became thick
with _diatoms_ at 9 a.m., and I ordered a cast to be made. No bottom
was found at 210 fathoms. The _Endurance_ continued to advance
southward through loose pack that morning. We saw the spouts of
numerous whales and noticed some hundreds of crab-eaters lying on the
floes. White-rumped terns, Antarctic petrels and snow petrels were
numerous, and there was a colony of adelies on a low berg. A few
killer-whales, with their characteristic high dorsal fin, also came in
view. The noon position was lat. 72° 02´ S., long. 16° 07´ W., and the
run for the twenty-four hours had been 136 miles S. 6° E.
We were now in the vicinity of the land discovered by Dr. W. S. Bruce,
leader of the _Scotia_ Expedition, in 1904, and named by him Coats’
Land. Dr. Bruce encountered an ice-barrier in lat. 72° 18´ S., long.
10° W., stretching from north-east to south-west. He followed the
barrier-edge to the south-west for 150 miles and reached lat. 74° 1´
S., long. 22° W. He saw no naked rock, but his description of rising
slopes of snow and ice, with shoaling water off the barrier-wall,
indicated clearly the presence of land. It was up those slopes, at a
point as far south as possible, that I planned to begin the march
across the Antarctic continent. All hands were watching now for the
coast described by Dr. Bruce, and at 5 p.m. the look-out reported an
appearance of land to the south-south-east. We could see a gentle
snow-slope rising to a height of about one thousand feet. It seemed to
be an island or a peninsula with a sound on its south side, and the
position of its most northerly point was about 72° 34´ S., 16° 40´ W.
The _Endurance_ was passing through heavy loose pack, and shortly
before midnight she broke into a lead of open sea along a barrier-edge.
A sounding within one cable’s length of the barrier-edge gave no bottom
with 210 fathoms of line. The barrier was 70 ft. high, with cliffs of
about 40 ft. The _Scotia_ must have passed this point when pushing to
Bruce’s farthest south on March 6, 1904, and I knew from the narrative
of that voyage, as well as from our own observation, that the coast
trended away to the south-west. The lead of open water continued along
the barrier-edge, and we pushed forward without delay.
An easterly breeze brought cloud and falls of snow during the morning
of January 11. The barrier trended south-west by south, and we skirted
it for fifty miles until 11 am. The cliffs in the morning were 20 ft.
high, and by noon they had increased to 110 and 115 ft. The brow
apparently rose 20 to 30 ft. higher. We were forced away from the
barrier once for three hours by a line of very heavy pack-ice.
Otherwise there was open water along the edge, with high loose pack to
the west and north-west. We noticed a seal bobbing up and down in an
apparent effort to swallow a long silvery fish that projected at least
eighteen inches from its mouth. The noon position was lat. 73° 13´ S.,
long. 20° 43´ W., and a sounding then gave 155 fathoms at a distance of
a mile from the barrier. The bottom consisted of large igneous pebbles.
The weather then became thick, and I held away to the westward, where
the sky had given indications of open water, until 7 p.m., when we laid
the ship alongside a floe in loose pack. Heavy snow was falling, and I
was anxious lest the westerly wind should bring the pack hard against
the coast and jam the ship. The _Nimrod_ had a narrow escape from a
misadventure of this kind in the Ross Sea early in 1908.
We made a start again at 5 a.m. the next morning (January 12) in
overcast weather with mist and snow-showers, and four hours later broke
through loose pack-ice into open water. The view was obscured, but we
proceeded to the south-east and had gained 24 miles by noon, when three
soundings in lat. 74° 4´ S., long. 22° 48´ W. gave 95, 128, and 103
fathoms, with a bottom of sand, pebbles, and mud. Clark got a good haul
of biological specimens in the dredge. The _Endurance_ was now close to
what appeared to be the barrier, with a heavy pack-ice foot containing
numerous bergs frozen in and possibly aground. The solid ice turned
away towards the north-west, and we followed the edge for 48 miles N.
60° W. to clear it.
Now we were beyond the point reached by the _Scotia_, and the land
underlying the ice-sheet we were skirting was new. The northerly trend
was unexpected, and I began to suspect that we were really rounding a
huge ice-tongue attached to the true barrier-edge and extending
northward. Events confirmed this suspicion. We skirted the pack all
night, steering north-west; then went west by north till 4 a.m. and
round to south-west. The course at 8 a.m. on the 13th was
south-south-west. The barrier at midnight was low and distant, and at 8
a.m. there was merely a narrow ice-foot about two hundred yards across
separating it from the open water. By noon there was only an occasional
shelf of ice-foot. The barrier in one place came with an easy sweep to
the sea. We could have landed stores there without difficulty. We made
a sounding 400 ft. off the barrier but got no bottom at 676 fathoms. At
4 p.m., still following the barrier to the south-west, we reached a
corner and found it receding abruptly to the south-east. Our way was
blocked by very heavy pack, and after spending two hours in a vain
search for an opening, we moored the _Endurance_ to a floe and banked
fires. During that day we passed two schools of seals, swimming fast to
the north-west and north-north-east. The animals swam in close order,
rising and blowing like porpoises, and we wondered if there was any
significance in their journey northward at that time of the year.
Several young emperor penguins had been captured and brought aboard on
the previous day. Two of them were still alive when the _Endurance_ was
brought alongside the floe. They promptly hopped on to the ice, turned
round, bowed gracefully three times, and retired to the far side of the
floe. There is something curiously human about the manners and
movements of these birds. I was concerned about the dogs. They were
losing condition and some of them appeared to be ailing. One dog had to
be shot on the 12th. We did not move the ship on the 14th. A breeze
came from the east in the evening, and under its influence the pack
began to work off shore. Before midnight the close ice that had barred
our way had opened and left a lane along the foot of the barrier. I
decided to wait for the morning, not wishing to risk getting caught
between the barrier and the pack in the event of the wind changing. A
sounding gave 1357 fathoms, with a bottom of glacial mud. The noon
observation showed the position to be lat. 74° 09´ S., long. 27° 16´ W.
We cast off at 6 a.m. on the 15th in hazy weather with a north-easterly
breeze, and proceeded along the barrier in open water. The course was
south-east for sixteen miles, then south-south-east. We now had solid
pack to windward, and at 3 p.m. we passed a bight probably ten miles
deep and running to the north-east. A similar bight appeared at 6 p.m.
These deep cuts strengthened the impression we had already formed that
for several days we had been rounding a great mass of ice, at least
fifty miles across, stretching out from the coast and possibly destined
to float away at some time in the future. The soundings—roughly, 200
fathoms at the landward side and 1300 fathoms at the seaward
side—suggested that this mighty projection was afloat. Seals were
plentiful. We saw large numbers on the pack and several on low parts of
the barrier, where the slope was easy. The ship passed through large
schools of seals swimming from the barrier to the pack off shore. The
animals were splashing and blowing around the _Endurance_, and Hurley
made a record of this unusual sight with the kinematograph-camera.
The barrier now stretched to the south-west again. Sail was set to a
fresh easterly breeze, but at 7 p.m. it had to be furled, the
_Endurance_ being held up by pack-ice against the barrier for an hour.
We took advantage of the pause to sound and got 268 fathoms with
glacial mud and pebbles. Then a small lane appeared ahead. We pushed
through at full speed, and by 8.30 p.m. the _Endurance_ was moving
southward with sails set in a fine expanse of open water. We continued
to skirt the barrier in clear weather. I was watching for possible
landing-places, though as a matter of fact I had no intention of
landing north of Vahsel Bay, in Luitpold Land, except under pressure of
necessity. Every mile gained towards the south meant a mile less
sledging when the time came for the overland journey.
Shortly before midnight on the 15th we came abreast of the northern
edge of a great glacier or overflow from the inland ice, projecting
beyond the barrier into the sea. It was 400 or 500 ft. high, and at its
edge was a large mass of thick bay-ice. The bay formed by the northern
edge of this glacier would have made an excellent landing-place. A flat
ice-foot nearly three feet above sea-level looked like a natural quay.
From this ice-foot a snow-slope rose to the top of the barrier. The bay
was protected from the south-easterly wind and was open only to the
northerly wind, which is rare in those latitudes. A sounding gave 80
fathoms, indicating that the glacier was aground. I named the place
Glacier Bay, and had reason later to remember it with regret.
The _Endurance_ steamed along the front of this ice-flow for about
seventeen miles. The glacier showed huge crevasses and high pressure
ridges, and appeared to run back to ice-covered slopes or hills 1000 or
2000 ft. high. Some bays in its front were filled with smooth ice,
dotted with seals and penguins. At 4 a.m. on the 16th we reached the
edge of another huge glacial overflow from the ice-sheet. The ice
appeared to be coming over low hills and was heavily broken. The
cliff-face was 250 to 350 ft. high, and the ice surface two miles
inland was probably 2000 ft. high. The cliff-front showed a tide-mark
of about 6 ft., proving that it was not afloat. We steamed along the
front of this tremendous glacier for 40 miles and then, at 8.30 a.m.,
we were held up by solid pack-ice, which appeared to be held by
stranded bergs. The depth, two cables off the barrier-cliff, was 134
fathoms. No further advance was possible that day, but the noon
observation, which gave the position as lat. 76° 27´ S. long. 28° 51´
W., showed that we had gained 124 miles to the south-west during the
preceding twenty-four hours. The afternoon was not without incident.
The bergs in the neighbourhood were very large, several being over 200
ft. high, and some of them were firmly aground, showing tidemarks. A
barrier-berg bearing north-west appeared to be about 25 miles long. We
pushed the ship against a small banded berg, from which Wordie secured
several large lumps of biotite granite. While the _Endurance_ was being
held slow ahead against the berg a loud crack was heard, and the
geologist had to scramble aboard at once. The bands on this berg were