Into the Frozen South

by J. W. S. Marr

Entering the Pack.

Collecting Ice for replenishing the Water Tanks.

On April 1, under similar weather conditions which were growing so familiar that even the capsizing of a tin of syrup in a locker created no more than a passing anathema, Mr. Jeffrey made an April fool of an albatross by catching it. Albatrosses possess an acquisitive nature, and would probably thrive well in Aberdeen. The proper way of fishing for them is to construct a small hollowed triangle out of sheet tin or brass, lash strips of blubber or other highly scented provender along the metal, and stream the bait temptingly astern at the end of a stretch of fishing line. The albatross promptly swoops down for the succulent morsel, and having got a grip of it with its mighty beak, holds on. The drag of the line naturally jams the acute angle of the triangle over the bird’s beak, so that even if it wanted to let go it couldn’t; and it is, in the result, ignominiously drawn aboard, where, once it has set its feet on the deck, it cannot rise. Then you strangle the gentleman, so that his snowy, downy plumage shall not be discoloured, and skin him, using his wing bones for pipe stems and his beak and wings for trophies.

April 2 started well, but failed to fulfil its initial promise. The wind was coming away in lessening puffs—somewhat tantalizing for the helmsman—but in a while it freshened again with mist and rain, which lessened our outlook considerably and caused some little concern, for we were expecting to sight land and had no desire to overrun our reckoning, with no bunker fuel to help us to steam back against a wind that was always fresh and sometimes strong. Since eyesight was not much use under these conditions, sounding was taken with the Kelvin machine, but no bottom was discoverable! and as the log line fouled the wire after the cast was taken, I got an extra hour’s work in clearing the ghastly tangle. A spinning log line and a spinning sounding line together can make a twist that seems invulnerable to human effort; but a bit of that patience taught to the Scouts helped, and the tangle was gradually reduced.

At four in the afternoon the heavier canvas was furled lest we ran too far, and the last of the ice left our decks about the same time, thawed by the persistent rain and the increasing temperature. All the diligent scrubbing with sand and canvas in the world could not have left our planking whiter than had the scouring of the friendly ice. Just as well the ice was gone, for the rolling and pitching were awful, so that we kept our feet only with supreme difficulty.

Because of the weather and the speed we were making, the skipper decided to get the ship hove-to after dinner, rounded her to on the port tack, and sounded constantly without finding bottom. Navigation under these circumstances is no easy matter, and I was glad I was not responsible for the safety of the ship.

Alternating running and heaving-to, with the sounding machine constantly at work, except when it broke down—as it sometimes did—we went on, until at eight o’clock on April 4 the sun appeared and a clear horizon showed, so that it was quite possible to get chronometer sights and double altitudes, by means of which our position on the watery waste was definitely fixed. That comforted everybody; and by way of added solace, shortly before 1 p.m. land was sighted again—the snow-capped peaks of South Georgia showing plainly on our starboard bow. Throughout a drizzling afternoon, with a strong wind blowing—typical South Georgian weather, observe, for the bit of sunshine was soon only a memory—we crowded on every possible ounce of steam and tried to gain harbour, but because of the short, high head-sea that was running we made little if any progress. At six p.m. it became necessary to keep the Quest off with staysail and mizen set; and all that was then to be seen of the island was a blanket of thick, impenetrable mist, with the occasional ends of giant glaciers and the irregularities of the coastline showing.

A lot of bergs were floating about in our neighbourhood, and during the night the ship was kept under steam in order to make her handier in dodging these floating masses; but at 8 a.m. we set every inch of canvas the vessel would carry and headed up towards the land. By about three in the afternoon we were fairly close in, and it was a great pleasure to look on green grass again, though by reason of its sparseness it was almost possible to count the blades.