Into the Frozen South

by J. W. S. Marr

The other type was smaller, no bigger than an ordinary seagull, brownish-black in colour, and lacking webbed feet.

The young of the larger species, almost until reaching years of discretion, boast fluffy coats of white feathers of downy softness, and made one anxious to secure sufficient of their plumage to stuff a mattress that might be more kindly to one’s projecting bones than the “donkey’s breakfast” with which I was provided. The young of the smaller kind were quite ordinary: being, if anything, a shade darker than their parents. Flying-fish appeared to comprise the major portion of the larger birds’ dietary, for we found many of these curious fish lying about the rocks in the vicinity of the nests. Not that these nests were architectural masterpieces by any means: they were merely rough scrapings in the ever-present guano: trifling bowls just sufficient to contain the eggs or the downy young.

Mr. Wilkins soon found material for his cameras. He was keen on securing impressions of life on St. Paul’s Rocks; and quested about like a newspaper reporter in the silly season. He was fortunate enough to run upon what can only be described as a piscatorial drama: a huge crab that had discovered a dead fish and was working overtime to get it stowed inside. With all the stolidity of an Aberdeen granite-hewer, the crab was ripping off enormous chunks from its odoriferous catch and tucking them away. You’d have thought he was a small boy—not a Scout, of course—bagging apples from a forbidden orchard, with the owner of that orchard coming round the corner. Something like a score of smaller crabs were anxious to share his prize, but he had no intention of making a common cause of his salvage. Every time they advanced he dragged the fish bodily away; and when the smaller fellows showed a nasty, greedy disposition, he thought nothing of kicking them away to blazes-and-gone with his scrabbling hind-legs. Very evidently that apple “wasn’t goin’ to have no core!”

Throughout the interesting morning Mr. Wilkins took photographs, both still and moving, of the life of the island: birds, crabs, even the fish swimming in the rockpools; and Mr. Dell and I assisted him to the best of our ability. We were all busy according to our capacity. In the afternoon Mr. Wilkins killed such birds as he required for specimens, and went on with his picture-making in order that those who only Britain know might learn somewhat of the outlying pickets of the earth. Mr. Douglas made a comprehensive survey of this largest island, taking Mr. Hussey and Major Carr to assist him; the latter also did some useful meteorological work, besides helping me in the bug-hunting labours relegated to me by our naturalist. Spiders and moths formed the greater part of our bag; and all were of interest, because they were so entirely different from the spiders and moths of home.

As for the boat’s crew, they fished throughout the greater part of the day, catching small sharks and varied finny victims in considerable quantities. As sharks are not particularly appetizing food, they were thrown back into their native element after certain operations had been performed upon them which guaranteed that they, at any rate, would never more trouble harassed mariners.

All this work was done under a baking sun, striking with merciless savagery down from almost directly overhead. Our moving bodies threw no shadows whatsoever, but the glare from the rocks caused our skins to flame and burn with unbelievable thoroughness, so that when we returned to the Quest we looked more like a party of half-cooked negroes than white men.

That our observations might be thorough and of use to civilization, when once we were all embarked and the surf-boat housed on deck, the Quest steamed slowly round the entire group of mountain peaks, taking soundings as she went. Not until seven o’clock at night did we move off finally and wave farewell to what is, in my opinion, one of the most forlorn clusters of rock in all the world.

Forthwith we resumed the even run of shipboard duties: I myself acting as cook’s mate when required, standing watch, taking the wheel, trimming and sifting coal; and all the time the sea was running high and the Quest doing herself proud in the matter of rolling. Such of us as did the tedious bunker work, in ten-minute shifts because of the stifling conditions below, cursed that St. Vincent coal heartily enough to set it on fire on its own account, but felt high reward when we were granted an afternoon’s easy as a solace to choked lungs and aching limbs. There were no class distinctions among us, let it be known. I, the loblolly boy, worked side by side with the leaders of the expedition at what, ashore and in civilization, might have been considered menial tasks. The ship was absolutely a commonwealth, all hands working all-out for the common good; social distinctions were thrown overboard almost as soon as we left Plymouth. Thus were formed the bonds of a proved comradeship destined to stand us in good stead in the coming days of common peril, when every man might be required to depend upon his nearest neighbour for the boon of continued life.

Major Carr, during these days, conducted a series of meteorological experiments, although the uneasy motion of the ship rendered such work difficult in the doing. He sent up balloons and kites to test the currents of the upper air and secure the temperatures of those remote strata, all of which information is of great value in weather-forecasting and the like. One kite was lost. This work is rather interesting because, to one not versed in its complications, it is so infinitely mysterious. You send up a big kite, say, getting it up as high as you can, or as high as you wish; and then, up the same wire you dispatch a smaller kite—just as we used to send up messengers, as we called them—which messenger kite carries with it the complicated instruments by means of which the records are taken; afterwards these are tabulated day by day.

Infrequently, during the run to Rio—though it was more a crawl—I indulged in the luxury of a shave. I make a special point of mentioning this, because shaves were amongst the rarest events of existence those days. A memorable day; the Boss gave me further praise. I told the cook, because sometimes it is well to give others a correct estimate of yourself, as seen through eyes that are not biased by long and close companionship.