TOO MANY COOKS: OUR FIRST DEEP-SEA SOUNDING
The coastline presents a rugged face of rock broken here and there by glaciers which descend from the slopes behind to finish abruptly above narrow beaches of black sand. A red line of volcanic staining surrounds the island. Generally speaking it is inaccessible, and there are no good bays or anchorages for a ship. There are places where a landing could be effected by boat, but at no time would it be easy, for the rock faces rise sheer from the sea and the beaches are shut off from the island by the glaciers behind and laterally by steep cliffs. Nevertheless, penguins are able to get ashore. On the beaches were a number of the large and beautifully marked king penguins, whilst covering the slopes behind were whole battalions of the ringed variety, forming very large rookeries. I have seen larger rookeries than these in one place only—Macquarie Island, which I visited during the Mawson Expedition. There one can look over square miles and never see a piece of ground for the number of penguins of all varieties which collect there.
On the southern side of Zavodovski Island are a number of caves, from the mouths of which sulphurous fumes were issuing in a thin reddish cloud. We could feel their effects in a smarting sensation of the eyes, nose and throat. It was noticed that the penguins did not collect round the caves, but gave them a pretty wide berth. Larsen, who explored this group in the Undine in 1908, was overcome by these fumes whilst attempting to land on this island, and became seriously ill.
We made a running survey of the island and obtained a number of soundings. Before leaving I took the ship close to a berg which was thickly covered with ringed penguins to enable Wilkins to get some cinematograph pictures. To stimulate them into movement I told Jeffrey to fire two or three detonators. The loud reports caused the utmost consternation amongst them, and, stretching their flippers, they rushed en masse for the lower edge of the berg. Those in front were loth to take to the water, which is not surprising, seeing the difficulty they have in climbing back again, but those behind pressed them so hard that they were forced over into the sea, and, as Kerr facetiously remarked, “It was just as well that they could swim.” Their attitude of surprise and indignation was very amusing.
We continued (Saturday, January 21st) to pass innumerable bergs. The sea was literally filled with them. It is fortunate that in these latitudes there is comparatively little darkness at this time of the year, for at night these bergs form the most unpleasant of companions and necessitate a continuous and unremitting look-out. The long swell rushes against them with a heavy surge, and a collision with any one of them would prove a nasty accident from which we would not be likely to escape scot free, whilst the dislodgment of a heavy portion on to our decks could have nothing but the most disastrous results.
The Quest rolled like a log and the seas in the waist rushed like a swollen flood from side to side, so that one rarely passed about the ship without a wetting. The water foamed over the tops of our sea boots and filled them up. This was particularly annoying when going to take over the watch, for one had then to endure the discomfort of four hours on the bridge with wet feet, which in this temperature is extremely unpleasant.
Before leaving England Sir Ernest Shackleton had designed a weather-proof bridge, completely enclosed, but with windows which could be opened up on all sides. Owing to the strikes which occurred before our start, skilled labour was not available, and the work done in the building of it was so bad, and the windows and doors were so ill-fitting, that it was quite impossible to exclude draughts. Except that it was to some extent rain- and snow-proof, we would have been much better off with an open bridge protected with a canvas dodger. There was always a strong draught along the floor, which made it very hard to keep the feet warm, no matter how well clothed and shod we might be. When the footgear became wetted the difficulty was increased, and in the long night watches we often endured agonies from this cause.
Macklin reported to me on the 21st that there were fifteen inches of water in the hold. The ship had always leaked, but hitherto the engine-room pumps had been sufficient to keep down the water. I instituted a daily pumping, which, as the hand pump was situated in the waist amidst a rush of water, was no pleasant task for those engaged in it.
I began to feel my responsibilities now, for each day made it more abundantly clear to me that this trip was to be anything but a picnic and demonstrated the fact that the Quest was by no means an ideal ship for the work. Often I was made to doubt the wisdom of the undertaking, but, having put my hand to the plough, there was to be no turning back.
This being Saturday night, we drank the time-honoured toast of “Sweethearts and Wives,” to which some wag always added, “May they never meet!” On such occasions as these I issued to each man who wanted it a tot of whisky or rum. Rum was generally selected, as being the stronger drink.