Into the Frozen South

by J. W. S. Marr

As the wind was well away on the quarter the engines were unnecessary, so under squaresail and topsail alone the Quest flashed merrily southward. We were logging a steady nine knots by this time—better than we’d ever done before, even with engines working and all sail set; a mightily invigorating sensation it was, I must admit.

At four o’clock I went to the wheel, not without a certain amount of trepidation, for the ship appeared a lively problem to tackle, rioting about as she was. This was by far the most strenuous trick I’d experienced, for the following sea played the mischief with her stern and threw it so recklessly about that only by dint of constant twirling of the spokes was it possible to steer even an approximate course. The helm was hard a-port or hard a-starboard all the trick—there was none of that old easeful turning of a spoke either way. The ship seemed to go mad; she took the bit in her teeth, and fretting at the control, simply reared, and capered, and plunged, and bucketed until you’d think she was incapable of further exertion; but just as you satisfied yourself that she was quietening down, away she went again, taking the whole circle of the compass to play with, so that my heart was in my mouth most of the time for fear she might broach to and, coming broadside on to the threshing combers, capsize and finish the matter once and for all.

Yet it was thrilling, magnificently so, to realize that I’d got this boisterous vessel between my hands and was master of her destinies. The clamour of the gale was nothing, the level drive of spindrift as the roaring wind clipped off the wave-crests and hurled them aboard was but a challenge to war. Mr. Wild, who had the watch, was not at all anxious to rid us of the benefit of this good fair wind; and he cracked on for all he was worth, in regular, old-fashioned clipper style, and imagined he was back in his younger days when steam seemed a poor servant and spray-washed canvas the one great thing that counted, and when he was relieved at four o’clock he passed the word to keep on carrying on. This we did until six, when the Boss decided that we’d run quite far enough, and that now was the time to heave-to, since a ship making no headway at all is better than a ship plunging to the bottom of the sea. I, being off duty, had just turned in and was dropping off into that sleep which comes as a reward for much honest toil, when I was rudely awakened by a sanakatowzer of a sea that, obeying a purposeful weather-roll of the ship, had boarded us and was flooding down the companionway towards my berth, which, unfortunately for me, lay right in its track. I got out on deck as nimbly as I’ve ever done it, and there was compelled to sheer awe by the affrighting majesty of the waves, which were towering now to our very trucks, so far as my impression went, though I’m told the biggest was not more than forty feet in height from trough to crest.

I wish I had the pen of a writer to do justice to the majesty of the gale as it now was. The wind had increased to hurricane force; and the purposeful intent of the white-bearded combers as they piled and grew and added others and yet others to themselves and then bore down upon us, must have been seen to be understood. All hands were summoned to shorten sail and get the ship ready for heaving-to, and with the utmost difficulty the big squaresail was mastered, by the process of running the Quest directly away before the gale, and letting the big canvas down by the run, with all hands leaping like furies to throw themselves upon its slatting, cracking, thunderous mass, to quieten it on the foredeck. Dell injured himself pretty severely in this operation; he paid the price of his own activity, for he fouled his foot in a rope when jumping to help another man who’d got too much to tackle single-handed, and came such a smasher to the deck that it was many a month before he was himself again.

Once the squaresail was mastered the topsail was clewed up, and Worsley and Macklin went aloft to stow it, which they did in seamanlike fashion, despite the trying conditions under which they laboured. Then, under a reefed staysail, we hove-to, to wait for better times.

Heaving-to was a ticklish task, but thanks to the prime seamanship of our officers it was effected without disaster, and although all hands were ordered into the rigging when the Quest was eased up to the wind, in case big water should drench her; and although whole seas had thundered over our bows whilst running, never a drop of water worth the mentioning was shipped as the helm was put down and the bow came gentle creeping up towards the run of the seas. In order to give us greater easement the wheel was lashed down and oil-bags were put over the bows, where they trailed ahead, and, leaking oil steadily, created an almost miraculous effect on the turbulent seas. It was most curious to watch a towering, foamy crest come hurtling towards us, growing as it came, as though intent on our instant overwhelming; but when within about fifteen yards of the bow it would suddenly loose its viciousness, flatten out, and slink as though ashamed of its previous bullying uproar, smoothly under our bows. It took in all some sixty gallons of oil to master that broken water, but it was worth it! Not that the ship’s motion was eased much thereby, she still rolled and pitched consumedly, but the savage assault of the greybeards was lessened, and, although uncomfortable, we realized that we were no longer in actual danger.

A little water certainly lopped on board, quite enough to fill the waist and wash out the galley fire; but when our delayed breakfast-time came round Green, whom nothing could daunt on shipboard, served out substantial sandwiches to the satisfaction of all hands, and these we ate whilst collected round the lee door of the galley, washing them down with some hot decoction of mingled flavours which our cook had apparently managed to create out of nothing.

By three o’clock in the afternoon the back of the gale was broken, and by seven it was deemed safe to get under way again, with the engines moving easily.

It was necessary to pump continuously now, however, because the ship was taking a good deal of water, but gradually, through the hours of night, wind and sea abated. After breakfast we took in our storm staysail and set the jib, topsail and squaresail, and proceeded upon our lawful occasions. There was no little stowing and securing to be done, as was only natural; for such a blowing as we had passed through was enough to test the stoutest lashings; particularly was the surf boat in danger; but all was made Bristol fashion again, and as the sprays were no longer breaking inboard I took advantage of the betterment to dry my blankets and clothes, which sorely needed it.

And now, once more, our ill-luck waited on us; again it was the engine-room. The engineer had discovered a serious leak into the furnaces from the boiler, and it was a leak that could not be repaired at sea. The Boss had serious thoughts that it might mean the total relinquishment of the adventure, and this worried him enormously. All through, from the very commencement—long before the Quest left London indeed—worry had piled on worry, and Sir Ernest had overcome difficulties that must certainly have daunted a man of much less stout fibre than his. But he gave instructions that if the leak developed steam pressure must be reduced, and so we carried limpingly along, making the best of it, since this wasn’t precisely the yachting trip it had appeared to be in more genial waters.