Into the Frozen South

by J. W. S. Marr

During the middle watch commencing at midnight of March 5 it froze hard, but the pack was more open, and, after running north for some time, we altered course and made more to the westward, Commander Wild’s idea being to skirt the pack as far as possible. We entered the ice again in the morning. During the previous few days remarkably little animal life had greeted our eyes; there was practically nothing to break the awful, monotonous desolation; but on this day we saw a single Adelie penguin, dignifiedly in command of a solitary hummock—looking for all the world, so old-timers said, like the skipper of an old-world windjammer—one of the kind who wore a frock coat and tall hat: a gaff-topsail hat, as they used to call them—even when rounding Cape Horn in a rip-snorter—loftily conning his ship through the smother and haloed in his own enormous dignity. Desirous of disturbing this colossal equanimity—and I have seen honest Kirk elders on a Sabbath morning who looked frivolous by comparison—we made rude remarks to the bird, who treated us with lofty disdain, and beyond showing a supercilious interest—as a pretty waitress in a café might show to a chafing client—took no further notice of us, until Captain Worsley, who is rather clever at mimicry, gave a loud “caa-aa,” which started Master Penguin’s hoops and lifted him from his god-like aloofness. He took to flight with all speed, casting scared glances backwards as he went, as if he thought the special Antarctic devil were after him. Still laughing at the ludicrous spectacle, we tied up to a large floe and iced ship, an operation occupying the greater part of the afternoon, and causing us much amusement by reason of Jeffrey’s agility. He offered to catch any ice that was thrown to him, and we were resolved to beat him—much, I fear, being thrown at him. Nevertheless, he held his own pretty well, spite of the thunderous fusillade with which he was assailed.

Query ventured on to the floe on this occasion and betrayed great interest in a killer whale that was swimming about near at hand. He barked himself hoarse at the monster without causing it any perturbation; but of a sudden, as if bored by his exhibition of ill-feeling, the killer rose quite close to the floe and “blew” for all the world like a Bowery tough spitting disdain, whereupon Query tucked tail between his quarters and bolted like a scared rabbit.

The following day was marked by an increase in the cold and a tightening of the ice. I spent the day in proper sailorizing work, under the excellent tutelage of old Mac; helping him to repair the mizen tack and secure the gaff. He was a very capable instructor, and from him I learnt how to perform most intricate tricks of seamanship—he was always patient and ready to answer questions, and I look on him to this day as my sea-daddy. He had a way of imparting information that left a definite impression in the mind, and many a University professor might have benefited by adopting his plan. Coming to very heavy pack we had to interrupt our westward course and once more to head away to the nor’ard, where we passed large bergs.

Sunrise of extraordinary beauty heralded yet another day. Beautiful though the dawning was we considered it pessimistically, for a fair dawn down in these latitudes so often portends a foul day: our prognostications were fulfilled, for by eight o’clock it was blowing and snowing to beat the band. The day grew dull and ominous by contrast with the early brightness; and away on the horizon, owing to the unnatural refraction, strange black shapes appeared like towering mountains and frowning coast-line. It required much mental concentration to avoid giving a false alarm of land, so vivid was the impression conveyed by this Antarctic mirage. Darkness closing in on top of the flurry made it dangerous to proceed, and the Quest was accordingly hove-to for the night.

I was called to keep the middle watch, and as I had evidently convinced the after-guard that I was beginning to understand my job, charge of the ship was given to me during this watch; I was left alone on the lookout. Orders were left with me by Mr. Wilkins to call Mr. Jeffrey at once if the ship drifted too near the ice. The ship was hove-to in a large pool and it was still blowing with considerable violence from the south-west. There was not a soul to talk to or to borrow confidence from, and all around and about me was that vast cold wilderness of ice. The loneliness was a sort of wall that seemed to shut me off from all my kind. A salutary lesson in man’s minuteness as compared with gigantic natural forces!

We drifted slowly across the pool, and I, feeling that we might come to harm by hitting heavy ice, called Mr. Jeffrey at a quarter to one. He promptly came on the bridge—his presence sent a warm glow clean through me, and my sighs of relief must have ascended to highest heaven. But there was really no cause for alarm, for at one o’clock we came slowly alongside the ice, as if we had been warped into dock, and lay snugly alongside as though in a peaceful harbour. But at 2 a.m. I called Dell and got below—where even sleeping berth-mates seemed genial companions.

Way was got on the ship again during the morning watch, and we proceeded through fairly heavy pack which was open in places and dotted with big bergs. The temperature fell considerably at midday, and when on lookout at the masthead, the cut of the wind was bitingly fierce. In the afternoon the floes were larger still and hummocky, and small groups of penguins mounted solemn guard on many of them. The sun shone at intervals through a very hazy sky, and the refraction was even more pronounced than ever, the most astonishingly fantastic shapes appearing on the horizon and sparkling with a silvery light in the sun. Once again we hove-to for the night.

Followed a strenuous day with Dr. Macklin and Naisbitt, tallying and restowing stores, which was not a bad job for cold weather. Outboard the outlook was not inviting: the floes being large and heavy—old Weddell Sea ice, they said it was—and the intervening water frozen over thinly with young ice, which naturally delayed our by no means considerable speed still more. The temperature had dropped to 9 F. At 10 a.m. a noisy commotion on deck fetched us up into the open like corks popping out of a bottle, curiosity overcoming our sense of duty. We found several of the more active-minded of the crew chasing penguins round and round a big floe. The game was a pure farce, the birds stolidly refusing to leave their harbourage, and showing a clever readiness in dodging their pursuers, twisting this way and that like professional footballers, until Argles started playing footer, too. He hurled himself full-stretch at one penguin, tackled it low in approved Rugby style, and fetched it down, squawking and vociferous as a fishwife. The catch was brought aboard alive, and Query displayed canine curiosity in its quaintness, but the penguin was a match for the dog, and once again he had to retreat with his tail between his legs.

At eight p.m. the bosun and I took a sounding; it was intensely cold, and by the time we had wound in the last fathom I found myself frozen to the rail. The cold also burst the water-jacket of the paraffin engine that ran the main dynamo, so it became necessary to start the spare dynamo in the engine-room, to run which there was a small steam-engine.

Throughout the night we lay to in rapidly freezing ice, and the skipper grew concerned, for the outlook displeased him greatly. To be frozen in hard and fast would be fatal, consequently just enough way to prevent this happening was maintained on the ship; and then, at 4.30, a full head of steam was raised and an attempt made to get clear. But though we backed and rammed and stopped, and backed and rammed again, making a furious bobbery all the time, the ship, shaking fore and aft at the impact of her bows on the thickening ice and the harsh grind and rattle of the broken stuff filling the air, we made paltry progress, advancing a bare mile during the entire morning watch. To burn coal at that rate without any commensurate progress was foreign to our best interests, so we gave up the attempt and lay to alongside a convenient floe, there to await the pleasure of the elements, and whistle for a favouring breeze. That breeze coming, we drifted to the northward with the ice, which during the forenoon gradually opened. So precious was our coal becoming now that the small quantity required to run the steam-driven dynamo could not be spared, and as the paraffin-run dynamo was out of action, I busied myself in filling and trimming lamps for the ship.