South: The Story of Shackleton's Last Expedition, 1914-1917
particularly well defined; they were due to morainic action in the
parent glacier. Later in the day the easterly wind increased to a gale.
Fragments of floe drifted past at about two knots, and the pack to
leeward began to break up fast. A low berg of shallow draught drove
down into the grinding pack and, smashing against two larger stranded
bergs, pushed them off the bank. The three went away together
pell-mell. We took shelter under the lee of a large stranded berg.
A blizzard from the east-north-east prevented us leaving the shelter of
the berg on the following day (Sunday, January 17). The weather was
clear, but the gale drove dense clouds of snow off the land and
obscured the coast-line most of the time. “The land, seen when the air
is clear, appears higher than we thought it yesterday; probably it
rises to 3000 ft. above the head of the glacier. Caird Coast, as I have
named it, connects Coats’ Land, discovered by Bruce in 1904, with
Luitpold Land, discovered by Filchner in 1912. The northern part is
similar in character to Coats’ Land. It is fronted by an undulating
barrier, the van of a mighty ice-sheet that is being forced outward
from the high interior of the Antarctic Continent and apparently is
sweeping over low hills, plains, and shallow seas as the great Arctic
ice-sheet once pressed over Northern Europe. The barrier surface, seen
from the sea, is of a faint golden brown colour. It terminates usually
in cliffs ranging from 10 to 300 ft. in height, but in a very few
places sweeps down level with the sea. The cliffs are of dazzling
whiteness, with wonderful blue shadows. Far inland higher slopes can be
seen, appearing like dim blue or faint golden fleecy clouds. These
distant slopes have increased in nearness and clearness as we have come
to the south-west, while the barrier cliffs here are higher and
apparently firmer. We are now close to the junction with Luitpold Land.
At this southern end of the Caird Coast the ice-sheet, undulating over
the hidden and imprisoned land, is bursting down a steep slope in
tremendous glaciers, bristling with ridges and spikes of ice and seamed
by thousands of crevasses. Along the whole length of the coast we have
seen no bare land or rock. Not as much as a solitary nunatak has
appeared to relieve the surface of ice and snow. But the upward sweep
of the ice-slopes towards the horizon and the ridges, terraces, and
crevasses that appear as the ice approaches the sea tell of the hills
and valleys that lie below.”
The _Endurance_ lay under the lee of the stranded berg until 7 a.m. on
January 18. The gale had moderated by that time, and we proceeded under
sail to the south-west through a lane that had opened along the
glacier-front. We skirted the glacier till 9.30 a.m., when it ended in
two bays, open to the north-west but sheltered by stranded bergs to the
west. The coast beyond trended south-south-west with a gentle
land-slope.
“The pack now forces us to go west 14 miles, when we break through a
long line of heavy brash mixed with large lumps and ‘growlers.’ We do
this under the fore-topsail only, the engines being stopped to protect
the propeller. This takes us into open water, where we make S. 50° W.
for 24 miles. Then we again encounter pack which forces us to the
north-west for 10 miles, when we are brought up by heavy snow-lumps,
brash, and large, loose floes. The character of the pack shows change.
The floes are very thick and are covered by deep snow. The brash
between the floes is so thick and heavy that we cannot push through
without a great expenditure of power, and then for a short distance
only. We therefore lie to for a while to see if the pack opens at all
when this north-east wind ceases.”
Our position on the morning of the 19th was lat. 76° 34´ S., long. 31°
30´ W. The weather was good, but no advance could be made. The ice had
closed around the ship during the night, and no water could be seen in
any direction from the deck. A few lanes were in sight from the
mast-head. We sounded in 312 fathoms, finding mud, sand, and pebbles.
The land showed faintly to the east. We waited for the conditions to
improve, and the scientists took the opportunity to dredge for
biological and geological specimens. During the night a moderate
north-easterly gale sprang up, and a survey of the position on the 20th
showed that the ship was firmly beset. The ice was packed heavily and
firmly all round the _Endurance_ in every direction as far as the eye
could reach from the masthead. There was nothing to be done till the
conditions changed, and we waited through that day and the succeeding
days with increasing anxiety. The east-north-easterly gale that had
forced us to take shelter behind the stranded berg on the 16th had
veered later to the north-east, and it continued with varying intensity
until the 22nd. Apparently this wind had crowded the ice into the bight
of the Weddell Sea, and the ship was now drifting south-west with the
floes which had enclosed it. A slight movement of the ice round the
ship caused the rudder to become dangerously jammed on the 21st, and we
had to cut away the ice with ice-chisels, heavy pieces of iron with
6-ft. wooden hafts. We kept steam up in readiness for a move if the
opportunity offered, and the engines running full speed ahead helped to
clear the rudder. Land was in sight to the east and south about sixteen
miles distant on the 22nd. The land-ice seemed to be faced with
ice-cliffs at most points, but here and there slopes ran down to
sea-level. Large crevassed areas in terraces parallel with the coast
showed where the ice was moving down over foot-hills. The inland ice
appeared for the most part to be undulating, smooth, and easy to march
over, but many crevasses might have been concealed from us by the
surface snow or by the absence of shadows. I thought that the land
probably rose to a height of 5000 ft. forty or fifty miles inland. The
accurate estimation of heights and distances in the Antarctic is always
difficult, owing to the clear air, the confusing monotony of colouring,
and the deceptive effect of mirage and refraction. The land appeared to
increase in height to the southward, where we saw a line of land or
barrier that must have been seventy miles, and possibly was even more
distant.
Sunday, January 24, was a clear sunny day, with gentle easterly and
southerly breezes. No open water could be seen from the mast-head, but
there was a slight water-sky to the west and north-west. “This is the
first time for ten days that the wind has varied from north-east and
east, and on five of these days it has risen to a gale. Evidently the
ice has become firmly packed in this quarter, and we must wait
patiently till a southerly gale occurs or currents open the ice. We are
drifting slowly. The position to-day was 76° 49´ S., 33° 51´ W. Worsley
and James, working on the floe with a Kew magnetometer, found the
variation to be six degrees west.” Just before midnight a crack
developed in the ice five yards wide and a mile long, fifty yards ahead
of the ship. The crack had widened to a quarter of a mile by 10 a.m. on
the 25th, and for three hours we tried to force the ship into this
opening with engines at full speed ahead and all sails set. The sole
effect was to wash some ice away astern and clear the rudder, and after
convincing myself that the ship was firmly held I abandoned the
attempt. Later in the day Crean and two other men were over the side on
a stage chipping at a large piece of ice that had got under the ship
and appeared to be impeding her movement. The ice broke away suddenly,
shot upward and overturned, pinning Crean between the stage and the
haft of the heavy 11-ft. iron pincher. He was in danger for a few
moments, but we got him clear, suffering merely from a few bad bruises.
The thick iron bar had been bent against him to an angle of 45 degrees.
The days that followed were uneventful. Moderate breezes from the east
and south-west had no apparent effect upon the ice, and the ship
remained firmly held. On the 27th, the tenth day of inactivity, I
decided to let the fires out. We had been burning half a ton of coal a
day to keep steam in the boilers, and as the bunkers now contained only
67 tons, representing thirty-three days’ steaming, we could not afford
to continue this expenditure of fuel. Land still showed to the east and
south when the horizon was clear. The biologist was securing some
interesting specimens with the hand-dredge at various depths. A
sounding on the 26th gave 360 fathoms, and another on the 29th 449
fathoms. The drift was to the west, and an observation on the 31st
(Sunday) showed that the ship had made eight miles during the week.
James and Hudson rigged the wireless in the hope of hearing the monthly
message from the Falkland Islands. This message would be due about 3.20
a.m. on the following morning, but James was doubtful about hearing
anything with our small apparatus at a distance of 1630 miles from the
dispatching station. We heard nothing, as a matter of fact, and later
efforts were similarly unsuccessful. The conditions would have been
difficult even for a station of high power.
We were accumulating gradually a stock of seal meat during these days
of waiting. Fresh meat for the dogs was needed, and seal-steaks and
liver made a very welcome change from the ship’s rations aboard the
_Endurance_. Four crab-eaters and three Weddells, over a ton of meat
for dog and man, fell to our guns on February 2, and all hands were
occupied most of the day getting the carcasses back to the ship over
the rough ice. We rigged three sledges for man-haulage and brought the
seals about two miles, the sledging parties being guided among the
ridges and pools by semaphore from the crow’s-nest. Two more seals were
sighted on the far side of a big pool, but I did not allow them to be
pursued. Some of the ice was in a treacherous condition, with thin
films hiding cracks and pools, and I did not wish to risk an accident.
A crack about four miles long opened in the floe to the stern of the
ship on the 3rd. The narrow lane in front was still open, but the
prevailing light breezes did not seem likely to produce any useful
movement in the ice. Early on the morning of the 5th a north-easterly
gale sprang up, bringing overcast skies and thick snow. Soon the pack
was opening and closing without much loosening effect. At noon the ship
gave a sudden start and heeled over three degrees. Immediately
afterwards a crack ran from the bows to the lead ahead and another to
the lead astern. I thought it might be possible to reeve the ship
through one of these leads towards open water, but we could see no
water through the thick snow; and before steam was raised, and while
the view was still obscured, the pack closed again. The northerly gale
had given place to light westerly breezes on the 6th. The pack seemed
to be more solid than ever. It stretched almost unbroken to the horizon
in every direction, and the situation was made worse by very low
temperatures in succeeding days. The temperature was down to zero on
the night of the 7th and was two degrees below zero on the 8th. This
cold spell in midsummer was most unfortunate from our point of view,
since it cemented the pack and tightened the grip of the ice upon the
ship. The slow drift to the south-west continued, and we caught
occasional glimpses of distant uplands on the eastern horizon. The
position on the 7th was lat. 76° 57´ S., long. 35° 7´ W. Soundings on
the 6th and 8th found glacial mud at 630 and 529 fathoms.
The _Endurance_ was lying in a pool covered by young ice on the 9th.