CHAPTER V
WE LEAVE LYTTELTON
By strenuous labour we were in readiness to start from Lyttelton on New Year's Day, and we were honoured by the Postmaster-General of the Dominion printing off for us a small issue of special stamps, and making me a postmaster during my stay in the Antarctic.
The quarters of the scientific staff on board the Nimrod were certainly small, and as the day of departure approached, Oyster Alley reached a state of congestion awful to contemplate. The ponies—of which we finally took away ten known as "Socks," "Queen," "Grisi," "Chinaman," "Billy," "Zulu," "Doctor," "Sandy," "Nimrod," and "Mac"—were carried on deck and ten stout stalls were built for them. The motor-car was enclosed in a large case and made fast with chains on the after-hatch whence it could be transferred easily to the ice. Our deck load, indeed, was so heavy that the Nimrod was low in the water, and when we left Lyttelton the little ship had only three feet six inches of freeboard.
In order to save coal I was anxious to have the Nimrod towed south, and the Government of the Dominion agreed to pay half the cost of the tow, and Sir James Mills, chairman of the Union Steamship Company, offered to pay the other half. The Koonya, a steel-built steamer of about 1100 tons, was chartered and placed under the command of Captain F. P. Evans. The wisdom of this selection was proved by subsequent events. Before my departure I placed the conduct of the affairs of the expedition in New Zealand into the hands of Mr. J. J. Kinsey, whose assistance and advice had already been of great service to me.
January 1, 1908, arrived at last, a warm and clear morning for our last day in civilisation. Before sunset we were to sever all ties with the outer world, but we all looked forward eagerly to our coming venture, for the glamour of the unknown was with us and the south was calling.
All day long the deck of our little vessel was thronged by sight-seers, who showed the greatest interest in everything connected with the ship and her equipment. There were many whose criticisms were frankly pessimistic as to our chances of weathering an Antarctic gale, for the Nimrod was deep in the water, but we, having confidence in the ship, were not disturbed by these criticisms.
Oyster Alley was crammed with the personal belongings of at least fourteen of the shore-party, and if you once got into it the difficulty of getting out was even greater. The entrance to this twentieth-century Black Hole was through a narrow doorway and down a ladder, which ushered one into almost complete darkness. And it was in this uncomfortable, crowded, murky place that the spirit of romance grew strong in the heart of George Buckley, until he suddenly jumped up and asked if I would take him as far as the ice. I was only too glad to consent, for his interest in the expedition showed that his heart was in the right place, and his personality had already appealed to us all. It was then 2 P.M. and the Nimrod sailed at 4 P.M., but in those two hours he dashed to Christchurch, gave his power of attorney to a friend, slung a tooth-brush and some underclothing into a bag, and arrived on board a few minutes before sailing time, equipped for the most rigorous weather in the world with only the summer suit he was wearing. Surely a record in the way of joining a polar expedition!
Cheer after cheer broke from the watching thousands as we moved towards the harbour entrance, and after a most cordial send-off we stopped to pick up our tow-line from the Koonya; and this operation being completed we signalled the Koonya to go ahead and were soon in the open sea.
Fortunately we did not know that we were not to take our clothes off for the next two weeks, and that we were to live in a constant state of wetness and watchfulness until we arrived in the neighbourhood of winter quarters. But bad weather was not long delayed, and I was soon wishing for the splendid modern gear of the Discovery, the large, specially built vessel that we had on the previous expedition.
