Into the Frozen South

by J. W. S. Marr

It was very astonishing to take the first trick of the middle watch in broad daylight; but the lack of darkness was a godsend, as it enabled us to pick our way in amongst the floes and so keep going steadily. The sun was not above the horizon, but the light was quite as clear as early afternoon of a winter’s day in Scotland. Of course, the dazzling white surface of the ice itself helps a lot, and the remarkable clearness of the air is another consideration when reckoning up this curious visibility.

As the day wore on the floes began to pack much more closely together, and the ice itself was increasing in thickness, so that we made only indifferent headway; and at last, coming to an unusually heavy belt of pack, we decided that it would be necessary to give up altogether. To force a way through appeared impossible, but just ahead showed a clear space of water, and it was determined to make an effort to cut the frozen barrier that parted us from further progress. To get through the five hundred yards that separated the Quest from free water took exactly two hours of steady thrusting. For long spaces of time we would find ourselves jammed tightly between floes as high as our bulwarks, where, with engines rattling away at full speed, we failed to make an inch of headway. Then it was a case of stopping and going astern, after which the ship was stopped again, engines opened to full speed ahead, and like a ram we crunched into the solid mass and bored a little way farther towards our goal, with the broken ice grating and roaring and screaming along our sides in a crashing chorus of spite. Then, as soon as we gained a trifling expanse of open water, we were through it and up against the solidifying ice once more, when the whole process had to be repeated.

While we were held up in this way great numbers of seals floundered around us, apparently sucking at the ship’s sides for food, and we thus had an exceptionally good opportunity of studying these mammals at close quarters and under natural conditions. Their movements under water, plainly visible from our rails, were surprisingly graceful and extraordinary to a degree.

After infinite striving we gained a stretch of open water, but, crossing it, we found the thickened pack on the farther side to be even worse than what we had successfully negotiated, and Commander Wild, coming on deck at four o’clock to take over the watch, went immediately to the masthead, where, by personal observation, he satisfied himself of the utter futility of attempting to proceed farther in that direction. He decided then to turn away to the eastward, in hope of discovering a lead that would carry us southward. Course was accordingly altered and we trudged slowly on. It was growing colder and colder; the real ice nip was in the air; but the rigour was not at all unbearable.

Later in the day five seals were shot and flayed on the ice; their fat proved a welcome addition to our bunkers, to say nothing of dainty fare for our larder. The big risk in our kind of work is scurvy, close quarters and a monotonous diet of preserved foods tending to encourage this most dreaded of all shipboard diseases, so every opportunity of feeding the crew on fresh meat was naturally taken. Like explorers in more temperate zones, we were determined to live more or less on the country. But as there were other considerations besides food, Mr. Wilkins sighted, stalked and shot one lone, lorn Emperor penguin, which he gleefully added to his growing collection.

Throughout the following morning the Quest continued working to north and east in search of an opening that would lead her to the south. Here the pack was looser, and not infrequently the ship was steaming quite gaily across lagoons or down wide, promising lanes, with many seals and those ugly killer whales accompanying us. Worried by reason of a possible shortage in our coal supply—all along it was admitted the Quest was too small for the task imposed upon her—Commander Wild stopped the engines at noon and all plain sail was made, under which, as the breeze was strong, we made excellent progress even through the pack. During the afternoon, ambling along quite pleasantly, we passed the first sea-leopard I had ever seen. It was basking on a floe and seemed quite unconcerned at our appearance in its native solitudes.

Watching as the Quest edged her way through the pack under sail alone was quite an interesting experience. She managed quite well, and seemed to lean all her weight on the ice when it hampered her, thrusting forward in a purposeful fashion; and it was quite possible to realize why earlier Polar explorers had done so well before the era of steam. But during the first watch we took in sail and got the engines going again, and with a lookout constantly in the crow’s nest to direct our devious twistings and turnings, we continued throughout the night, with the occasional screech and bump of ice to haunt our slumbers. This bumping was supplying us with extra work, for it strained the ship’s timbers no little, and the pumps were our principal recreation, the ship leaking considerably.

During the middle watch bigger gaps and wider lines showed to the westward, so our course was accordingly altered; by 4 a.m. that course, instead of N.E., was S.W. By way of a change from the recent sparkling brilliance of the atmosphere, this morning was so thick that we could not see very far; but being sent to the masthead lookout, I saw, over the blanket of mist, free water both to the north and the south. Thus throughout the day we steered a series of devious courses in hunting open water; and up there I experienced the deep sense of loneliness that attacks a man when perched up in the crow’s nest, staring out across the illimitable wilderness of ice, veined only slightly by the ever-shifting water lanes. The sight even of just one seal was warming and heartening, as presenting a relief to the everlasting brooding mystery of the frozen south. Furthermore, sight of a basking seal gave us an added interest in life, for, if at all possible, the fellow was promptly shot, not only with a desire to replenish our larder, but also to eke out our supply of fuel.

All hands were very fit these days, in excellent spirits, and possessed of appetites that would have created dismay in the soul of a boarding-house keeper. The cessation of the ship’s wearisome, exasperating rolling and pitching brightened our outlook, I think; it is impossible to keep optimistic and joyous when you’re being hove about like a parched pea on a hot shovel. We did not realize fully how trying that incessant liveliness of the little ship was until it ceased; but now our troubled souls were given a chance to forget the galling fatigue, and so we laughed and rubbed our hands and decided that the Antarctic wasn’t at all a bad health resort.

The weather was steadily growing colder, though not nearly so cold as I had been led to believe it would be down here in the Antarctic Circle. I had expected a frigidity that would freeze the eyelids to the cheeks and the breath on the lips; but my experience of this temperature was that it was more bearable than an average clammy winter day in Scotland. On February 10 we had the greatest cold of the voyage thus far, but we made no complaints about it, for once more our bows were notched on the south point of the compass and we were driving through heavy pack. No lanes were visible even from the masthead, so all we could do was just to hack doggedly on, in a sort of blind yet hopeful quest of some open passage as yet invisible.