Those who knew Shackleton knew this was a command as much as a suggestion. Of all the qualities the Boss required in his men, optimism was the most important. He knew the damage that one negative man could have on all the others.
“So enough talk. Mr. Hussey, why don't you bring out your banjo and we'll have a bit of a singsong?”
chapter fourteen
The next morning, the men began to prepare for winter. The cabins on the upper deck would soon be too cold, so Shackleton asked McNeish to build new ones belowdecks. The men had to shift lots of provisions around. All day, they tossed sacks and carried crates while McNeish sawed and hammered and gave directions. Perce watched him slap walls up as easily as a child building with blocks. McNeish almost never measured. He could simply look at a piece of wood and know down to the quarter inch if it was right. Hurley was also a good builder, but while he needed a T square to fit a door frame, McNeish simply eyeballed it and it always came out true.
Orde Lees offered to make an inventory of all their supplies. It was the perfect task for the fastidious man. He ran around with his notebook, peering into the farthest corners of the holds and writing neat columns of numbers and weights. The men of course poked fun at him.
“Hey—I think there are 41,625 potatoes left, not 41,626….”
“Oh, but 19,004 of them are small, so you might count them two for one—”
Orde Lees went on counting sardines. “You'll be grateful soon enough that someone is keeping track of your food,” he said testily.
The sailors stripped the decks of unnecessary gear and stowed away extra ropes and sails. They shifted all the sacks of coal from the deck into the hold. The ship had burned through more than half her supply, so there was plenty of room below.
“At least we know where we stand now,” Perce said. “We're not waiting around wondering all the time.” He caught a bag of coal from Vincent and swung it on into Tim's arms. “There's some peace in knowing where you stand.”
“You're an idiot, Blackie,” Vincent spat. “We could be back on South Georgia like we were meant to be. Should have turned back weeks ago. Now we're frozen in the middle of God-bloody-rotten Antarctica!” He swung a sack of coal at Perce so hard, it knocked him down.
“How do you like where you stand now, boy?” he sneered. Perce leapt to his feet, his hands in fists.
“Perce, don't—” Tim pulled him back. Perce saw Frank Wild glance in their direction.
“Anytime, Vincent,” Perce said quietly. “On the ice.” He picked up the sack of coal, his blue eyes burning. “Anytime.” He tossed the sack on to Tim, and they went back to work.
“Perce, what the hell did you think you were doing?” Billy pulled him aside later. “Calling him out like that?”
“I'm sick of his bullying. Do you want to go all winter with him shoving us around?”
“No, but I don't want to listen to you moan all night after the thrashing he's going to give you.”
“I can take him.”
“Sure, you can. Then you can pluck out the ship and fly us all home. Come on, Perce, fighting isn't going to solve anything.”
“Who's telling me this? You've fought in every saloon in Canada.”
“Some of them twice,” Billy agreed, laughing. “But that was just for fun.”
Perce finished coiling up a line and tied it off. Billy threw it into the locker, and they started on the next one. Perce knew Billy was right. He had let his temper get the better of him. But he couldn't take back the challenge. It was a stupid place he had gotten himself into. Growing up around the docks had made Perce no stranger to bullies or fighting, but he knew he was no match for Vincent. The worst part of it, though, wasn't the thought of getting beat, but of how Shackleton would think of him. The Boss needed them all to get along and pull together. Perce was about to mess that up in a grand way, and he hated himself for it.
He thought about his dilemma the rest of that day. Vincent was a bully and needed taking down. But fighting would upset Shackleton and be bad for everyone's morale. He could take back his challenge and avoid the whole thing. Then what? Live out the rest of the winter with Vincent puffed up even more and all the others thinking Perce was chicken?
He scrubbed the pots, his anger getting them shinier than they had been in a long time. Perce looked out the galley window and saw Shackleton walking out on the ice. He looked so small out there, alone on the endless frozen ocean. The responsibility of all their lives rested on his shoulders. Perce felt ashamed. His own quarrel was so stupid. He wouldn't make it worse for the Boss. He would make amends with Vincent and take back his challenge and just let the others think whatever the hell they wanted. Perce finished the pots, hung them to dry, wiped down the table, and swept the galley floor. Feeling much calmer now, he went off to find Vincent before he lost his nerve. He wasn't on deck or in the wardroom. Perce poked his head in the fo'c'sle and found all the other sailors talking excitedly. They stopped as soon as Perce appeared.
“What's happened?” Perce asked. “Where's Vincent?”
“Been demoted!” Tim said, eyes still wide with the surprise. “Probably sulking in the lifeboat, licking his wounded pride.”
“Boss called him on the carpet after tea, and he came out with his tail between his legs,” Tim said.
“Come on,” Billy said, handing Perce a mug. “We had a bit of rum put by—have a toast!” Perce put the mug down on the narrow table. He was relieved to be out of his mess, but it didn't really feel like something to celebrate.
chapter fifteen
The next day, Shackleton turned his cabin into a store to issue winter clothing. To the sailors' surprise, he offered them first choice. Each man received a thick sweater and two lighter ones, a woolen helmet, a windproof Jaeger shell, five pair of woolen socks, wool mittens, felt mittens, and fur mitts.
“You'll need to wear all three if you're out in winter,” Wild told them. “And you'll need this.” Wild handed Perce a long piece of the flat cord they used for lamp wicks. “The fur mitts are warm but bulky. You'll find you can't do much in them,” Wild explained. “Keep them tied around your neck with this so you can pull them off and not lose them. Lose your mitts and you lose your fingers.”
He also gave them strange boots called finneskos. These were large, soft boots made of reindeer skin that were stuffed with special Norwegian grass called sennegrass for insulation.
“Would you look at this,” Perce marveled as he looked at all the clothing laid out on his bunk. “I've never had this many new clothes at the same time in all my life! Three sweaters. And all brand-new!” He tucked two of them away in the back of his locker. If he was careful with them, he might be able to bring them home for his brothers after the trip.
Soon the men fell into a winter routine. Breakfast was at nine, then chores. Everyone took turns helping Charlie in the galley now. They shared most of the other duties too. They all scrubbed floors (though Orde Lees clearly thought such work was beneath him), and they all went out to cut ice. Wild showed them how to look for the clear blue ice that had all the salt squeezed out of it. They chopped it into chunks and brought it back on the sleds. Then they chopped it into smaller pieces and kept these in a basket by the galley door. A melting pot was always kept going on the back of the stove, and whenever a man drew out some water, he was supposed to put in some more ice. The ice in the basket got dirty, and the dirt collected in the bottom of the pot, so if the level went down too low, the water could be pretty sludgy. Keeping clean in general was a big challenge. No one did much laundry when all the water for anything had to be quarried, chopped, hauled aboard, and melted. About every two weeks, when a man was on night watch, he took a bath and washed his clothes.
“Me mum would be shocked,” Tim laughed one night as he hung his socks to dry by the stove. “Wearing the same underwear for two weeks at a time.”
“You washing every two weeks now?” Billy replied. “Why, aren't you the swell one!”
“Washing?
Who said anything about washing? I just switch my dirties for cleans out of your locker. You haven't noticed?”
Perce laughed. Things couldn't ever get too dismal with Billy and Tim around.
The old wardroom on the upper deck was too cold now, so they cleared out a space in the hold and brought the long table and benches down there. They nicknamed it “the Ritz” after a fancy hotel in London. Shackleton had brought along a roll of linoleum for the floor of the hut, but now they decided to put it down in the Ritz. Shackleton was on his hands and knees with the rest of them, cutting and fitting it.
Soon the Endurance had been converted into a cozy winter home. Even the sailors who had complained about getting stuck began to accept their fate and settle in. Life felt as normal as it could with twenty-eight men crowded together on a ship stuck in the ice at the bottom of the world. Outside of football injuries and the occasional dog bite, no one ever got sick. There was no one around to give them a cold or flu. The only real threat in the polar regions was scurvy. Shackleton had seen what scurvy could do. He had suffered it himself on his first trip south with Robert Scott. Once a week, Doc Macklin examined everyone for the early signs of the disease. He checked their gums and felt their joints, asked about aches and pains. No one knew exactly what caused scurvy, but they knew eating fresh fruits and vegetables could prevent it. But those foods were impossible to get in the polar regions. Eskimos in the Arctic didn't get scurvy, however, and Shackleton was convinced that eating fresh meat also prevented it.
Shackleton had tried to get the men to eat fresh seal and penguin, but many of them would not. McNeish, like many sailors, was superstitious about penguins and all seabirds. He said that birds held the souls of dead sailors. John Vincent and some of the others were just suspicious. In their experience, the officers were always trying to keep the best food for themselves. If they offered the sailors seal and penguin, then there must be something wrong with it!
But now that they were stuck for the winter, eating fresh meat was essential. Besides keeping scurvy away, it would also help preserve the limited supply of canned meat. The next time the men were out playing football on the ice, Shackleton asked Charlie to fry up a great pot of onions in butter. Poor Charlie was crying buckets of tears as he chopped and chopped. He opened the galley door for fresh air and shivered as he chopped some more. The wind carried the smell of frying onions out over the playing field.
“Now this if you please, Charlie.” Shackleton handed him five pounds of bacon that he had brought up himself from the larder. Charlie began to fry the bacon. The men began to glance over at the ship. They could smell something good. “Now how about some fresh seal steaks to go with that onion and bacon, Charlie?” Charlie realized what the Boss was doing and grinned.
“I'll make a nice gravy too, sir!” he offered. “And some yeast rolls!”
When the men came back, they were hungry from the exercise. The good smells almost knocked them over: bacon, onions, fresh bread baking, and the rich aroma of sizzling meat. Mrs. Chippy was crouched in the corner of the galley, staring at Charlie like he was God, praying, if cats could pray, that some tidbit would fall. A rumor went around that someone had found some frozen beefsteaks in the larder.
“But there wasn't any steak on my inventory list.” Orde Lees frowned. “And believe me I would know about steak if there was any steak and I'm sure there wasn't. I have a list of everything on this ship. And there's no beefsteak on my list.”
“Your list, hmmm,” Shackleton interrupted. “Yes, I've been meaning to have a look at your list.”
“Oh, you should, sir,” Orde Lees said. “You should! I've worked hard on it! It's very comprehensive.”
“I'm sure it is. Why don't we go have a look right now?” Shackleton threw an arm around Orde Lees's shoulders and pretty much shoved him out of the Ritz before he could go on anymore about there being no steak. Dinner was served, and by the time half the men realized what they were eating, they had already licked the plates clean. After that, fresh seal and penguin were regular features, and the dreaded scurvy was never a threat.
All they had to do now was wait out the winter. Wait for the ice to thaw and then sail to South America. No one said much about Shackleton's shattered dream. Sometimes they talked as if it might still happen, but everyone knew it wouldn't. It had been difficult to raise the money in the first place. Now, with this initial failure and with the war, it would be impossible. Still, they trained the dogs as if they would one day be running for the South Pole. The sea was frozen solid for miles in every direction, giving them lots of room to run. Crean built a small sled and miniature harnesses for Sally's pups. The first time he tried it out, they simply played and tumbled all over themselves. The traces were hopelessly tangled in minutes.
April came, and Perce tore another page off the calendar. The days were growing shorter. The men tried to stay busy. They played soccer, mended clothes, read books, played cards, told stories. They rubbed eyes off potatoes. They hunted for seal. More puppies were born. Clark dragged up nets full of slime. Hussey filled columns and columns in his meteorology notebook. It was, he declared (as if no one had noticed!), an unusually cold year. Hurley converted the refrigerator into a darkroom. He needed the thick, insulated walls to keep the film warm.
He developed his movie film and showed it to the men one night. They stretched a sheet out for a screen. Some of the men had seen newsreels before, but it was new for Perce. He tried not to let on, but it was so amazing, he could hardly keep from jumping out of his chair. There was film of them playing football on the ice! There was Charlie Green, skinning a penguin! It was very strange to see people on the screen who were sitting beside him right now.
“Just wait,” Hurley told Perce. “I bet it won't be long until you can see newsreels only a day or two after something happens. Someday you won't even have to go to the cinema— pictures will come over wires like the telephone.”
“So we'll all go down to the corner and crowd in the phone box to watch a moving picture?” Perce laughed. “I wouldn't mind actually, if there were girls.”
“No, everyone is going to have a telephone in their own house.” They all laughed at that one.
“Just you wait,” Hurley went on. “Pictures could even come over the wireless, right into your home. All you need is some kind of receiver and a screen, you could put it all in a box like a cupboard.”
“That's daft!” Greenstreet said. “Who would want to watch a picture show on a box in your own parlor? Where's the fun in that?”
“And someday I'll bet there'll be movie cameras so small that everyone will have one,” Hurley went on excitedly. “You could take your film to a shop and get it back in a week. Or maybe even develop it yourself in the kitchen sink. And the pictures will have sound too!”
Soon the whole Ritz was roaring with a lively debate about the future. You could make a telephone call anywhere in the world! There would be telephones without wires! And with pictures! Airplanes would fly across the oceans! Shackleton wanted a special kind of camera that could photograph a whole book and shrink it down to the size of a pack of cards. “Then when you wanted to read, you would have some kind of enlarging machine and read it on a screen. Think how many books we could take along then!”
“Why not just send books over your picture wireless?” Wild said. “Then you could read the pages on the screen in your cupboard too!”
Perce laughed. Sending books through the air! That was something Jules Verne would invent for one of his wild stories.
Doc Macklin had high hopes for the future too. There would be no polio, no tuberculosis, influenza—nothing. “We'll have vaccines or cures for everything. There won't be any infections,” he said hopefully. Macklin held up his own hand, bandaged from an infected dog bite. “I'll have a pill to cure this.”
“How could a pill you swallow inside cure infection on your outside?” Tim asked.
“It would kill the bacteria that causes the infection. Problem is, i
t would have to kill only the bacteria, not the rest of you.”
When Perce finally went to bed, his head was so full of the future that he couldn't get to sleep.
“What do you think about all that?” he whispered to Billy. “What if people really could fly across the oceans? With passengers and cargo and everything?”
“Be a lot of sailors out of a job.”
“It would be an awful lot easier to get down here, though.”
“Just our luck, the plane would get stuck.”
“I like the wireless with pictures, though. Have you ever heard a wireless?” Perce asked.
“No. But I do think that might catch on. Imagine if we could hear some news down here,” Billy sighed. It had been five months since they had any contact with the outside world.
chapter sixteen
On May 1, the sun set for a long winter night that would last until July. For a few weeks, it was still light in the middle of the day, but those hours dwindled fast. Before long, it was dark all the time. Around noon, there was a faint twilight glow on the horizon, but it was barely enough to do outside chores. It was too dark and cold to play football. The seals and penguins had disappeared, so there was no hunting. They had laid in meat enough for three months, so there was little worry about food, but everyone missed the activity.
The men built “dogloos” out on the ice beside the ship, out of ice blocks and frozen sealskins piled over with ice and snow. For bedding, they stuffed sacks with straw. Each dog was staked by its own dogloo, its chain frozen securely into the ice. The dogs seemed happy with the new accommodations. The ship was less crowded and much less noisy. Still, it felt claustrophobic.
There were only so many games of checkers and cards one could play, and some of the men were getting “cabin fever.” The scientists had expected this long, dark confinement, but the sailors had not.
John Vincent grew more surly. He didn't like to read and was always bored. Billy, on the other hand, was finishing a book every other day. The other sailors called him “the librarian.” But they also asked him to recommend good books. There were so many to choose from. Perce didn't know where to start. He once borrowed a book called Anna Karenina just because it reminded him of a girl back home called Anna.
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