by Chris Turney
The practical result, Filchner argued, was that in the Weddell Sea the ice can be compressed into ever more fantastic shapes and contortions, threatening ships unfortunate enough to be caught in their grip. The Deutschland avoided being crushed—others would not be so lucky.
It was in the broader field of oceanography that the Germans arguably made their biggest contribution to Antarctic science. The Deutschland probed below the surface from the start, making frequent measurements of the different properties of ocean water down through the Atlantic and across a range of depths. The observations resulted in a tome of data describing and mapping the changes in temperature, salinity, density and dissolved oxygen through the Atlantic Ocean, from 80°N to 78°S—a most impressive achievement.
From Buenos Aires, Brennecke reported: ‘the main result of our serial sections is the demonstration of a deep current in about 1500 m to about 3000 m of depth which comes from the North Atlantic toward the south and because of its high temperature and high salt content passes between the overlying and underlying layers’ and ‘a northward moving current at about 1000 m (demonstrated through the salinity minimum)’. The latter, he argued, was identical to that found by HMS Challenger and the Gauss, and most probably originated at about 50°S, where it sank and headed north.
Brennecke’s great insight, however, was made later, on the continental shelf of the Weddell Sea, where he discovered that the water had very similar properties at all depths. He realised that the intense winter cooling of the surface produced such prodigious quantities of sea ice that large amounts of dissolved salt were being concentrated down below. The result, Brennecke argued, was that the density became great enough to cause the water to sink off the shelf and flow northwards along the sea bottom.
The upshot of all the Deutschland’s measurements was the knowledge that there were four alternating ocean layers in the Atlantic, transporting warmer and colder water south and north respectively, with the Weddell Sea playing a central role. While crossing the Southern Ocean around South Georgia, Brennecke had also noted there was a sudden drop in the saltiness of the surface waters flowing north. The German oceanographer did not realise it, but he had just discovered the Antarctic Convergence. At around 50°S, it is probably the most reliable boundary for defining the start of the Antarctic region and the distinctive cold, frigid waters to the south. All the key elements of the Atlantic Ocean circulation system had been found.
Here was the first substantial evidence that the world’s oceans were circulating, replenishing nutrient levels in the south, and the Antarctic was in the thick of it. But it would be a decade before the German oceanographer Wilhelm Meinardus would pull everything together and show how important these observations were in understanding the bigger picture. The new continent was not as isolated as had been thought. Unfortunately for Brennecke, he never saw his results completely worked up, dying in 1924.
And yet, for all his innovative research on the Deutschland expedition, Brennecke was not a pleasant chap, at least according to Filchner. The German leader later remarked in Exposé, ‘the arrogant Brennecke maliciously annotated my notices on the blackboard in the mess… he announced, talking down to me: “If you need advice and instruction please feel free. I represent rigorous science on board!”’
On their return to Germany, Brennecke wrote to Amundsen when he heard the Norwegian had invited Filchner to join him on an attempt on the North Geographic Pole. ‘When Amundsen visited me in Berlin,’ Filchner recorded, ‘he gave me Brennecke’s letter to read then threw it into the fire with the words: “You Germans always have to foul your own nest! It is a pity for Brennecke that he should stoop to such denunciations, since I know better than that schemer who you are!”’ With the onset of World War I, Filchner’s chance to go with Amundsen to the Arctic disappeared.
Although the fallout from the expedition threatened to overwhelm its good work, the Germans undoubtedly revealed a tremendous amount about a largely unknown part of Antarctica. Filchner might not have reached the South Geographic Pole but he showed the first of many phantom Antarctic lands to be exactly what it was, a mirage, and discovered the southern limit of the Weddell Sea. More importantly, his expedition proved that the Antarctic played a major role in the circulation of the world’s oceans.
But it was the final expedition of 1912 that, spurning the South Geographic Pole, aimed for the first complete scientific study of this new continent, and showed the way forward for Antarctic research. The Australasian Antarctic Expedition, led by Douglas Mawson and championed by Ernest Shackleton and Edgeworth David, would both bring home a wealth of data and become famous for its adventures.
German Antarctic Expedition member Albert Kling three thousand metres above the seabed, 1912. By Ernst Müller. Reproduced from Wilhelm Filchner’s Zum Sechsten Erdteil (1922).
CHAPTER 7
ICE-COLD IN DENISON
Douglas Mawson and the Australasian Antarctic Expedition, 1911–1913
The ‘race’ is over: ergo the work of exploration is done. No more foolish mistake could be made, and none more disastrous in its consequences.
SIR ERNEST SHACKLETON (1874–1922)
Returning to Australia a national hero in April 1909, Douglas Mawson soon resolved to go back south. But he felt the South Geographic Pole was a highly dubious proposition in scientific terms. Instead, the 27-year-old opted to lead a team to a largely unknown part of Antarctica south of his newly federated homeland.
After Robert Scott’s failed attempt to recruit Mawson in London in late 1909, Ernest Shackleton became excited by Mawson’s ideas and proposed an alternative arrangement. Mawson recalled: ‘Shackleton came in early to the office one morning and said to me, “I have decided to go to the coast west of Cape Adare and you are to be Chief Scientist. I hope you will agree to this. I can get the money and that will be your trouble were you taking it yourself.” I was rather taken aback. Apparently he had fully realised the value of the expedition and now wished to run it.’
It was tempting. Shackleton was offering to support the whole shebang. Mawson agreed, and visited possible supporters with him, extolling the virtues of scientific research and mineral exploration in the south. They soon had a commitment of more than £10,000.
Shackleton could not leave get-rich-quick schemes alone, though, and he soon directed his efforts towards other endeavours. While waiting on Shackleton to chase down further Antarctic funding, Mawson was dispatched with a former Nimrod colleague, John King Davis, to investigate Hungarian gold mines for a possible Shackleton investment. The mines proved a non-starter—and, more worryingly for Mawson, no further money had been secured for the expedition south.
By May 1910 Shackleton had gone quiet on Antarctica. Frustrated, Mawson challenged the Anglo-Irishman about his intentions. An agreement was reached: if Shackleton would not lead the expedition, it would fall to the Australian. Reassured, Mawson returned home and informed the press he was going south—but whether Shackleton was joining him remained unclear. ‘In desperation,’ Mawson remembered, ‘I cabled early December asking if he had decided to go in charge of the expedition, if not I would. He cabled that he could not go but would support me.’
The timetable for getting to Antarctica in 1912 was now very tight. ‘It was then so late,’ the new leader wrote, ‘that I decided to put the matter before the Australasian Association for the Advancement of Science at the Sydney meeting, 7th Jan. 1911.’ There, Mawson appealed to people’s growing sense of nationhood: on Australia’s doorstep was a vast new southern continent waiting to be discovered. This was an opportunity to follow up the success of Shackleton’s British Antarctic Expedition with a largely Australian and New Zealand team.
The call was warmly received. The president of the association was especially supportive, wrapping up Mawson’s appeal with the words: ‘because we are part of the British nation, which has always taken such a leading part in geographical discovery, and because we happen to be that section of the British nation w
hich rests nearest to the proposed field of investigation, it is surely—if I may use an Australian phrase which is rather expressive—it is surely “up to us” to assist.’
A committee was swiftly formed, headed by Mawson’s old mentor Edgeworth David, and an announcement made in the national press. Extolling the valuable fishing and mineral potential in the Antarctic, whose exploitation was apparently ‘less formidable than the exploiting of the goldfields of Alaska’, the statement also stressed the scientific value of an expedition, particularly in meteorology—‘for it is from the icy regions to the west and south that we may look for an extension of our knowledge of Australia’s weather and of our power of forecasting it; and who shall estimate the value of such knowledge in a country like ours?’
The promise of riches was a drawcard. Mawson wrote to Scott about economic resources, advising him that ‘Australia will be the gainer should anything eventuate’, while at a citizen’s meeting in the Sydney Town Hall, David described Antarctica as ‘a new El Dorado’. It was an age-old balancing act, refined by Shackleton and now perfected by the Australians: dangling profit alongside science.
Funds began to flow in, including a commitment from the prime minister, Andrew Fisher. But the expedition finances remained in a parlous state. Until now, Mawson had restrained himself from making a public call for support in Britain, for fear of Scott accusing him of being ‘a usurper of funds’. Now needing a massive investment, Mawson returned to London in early 1911 to raise capital. The Australian was shocked to find the money apparently already secured with Shackleton had vanished into the Anglo-Irishman’s shadowy finances. Mawson never really forgave Shackleton. Years later he would write, ‘when it comes to the moral side of things S. [Shackleton] and I part brass rags, as they say in the navy.’
Things were now pretty desperate. ‘Mrs Scott had asked me to live at her house in London if it would assist me in any way—although very friendly on her part, still the Scottites resented me asking for subscriptions in England…I pointed out however that I really did not intend calling for money from English people. I wanted to see wealthy Australians in London. Now however that things were going badly I told her that I anticipated having to call through the press for aid. I gave her one month grace, so that she could make a public appeal before me.’
Shackleton stepped forward and honoured his agreement to support Mawson. Weaving his magic, he convinced the newspaper baron Lord Northcliffe to agree to a free appeal in the Daily Mail for the proposed Australasian Antarctic Expedition. Not everyone was pleased. Despite Mawson’s offer to Kathleen Scott, Sir Clements Markham was particularly angry and wrote to the newspapers, arguing any money should go to Scott’s British expedition, known to be short of funds. But the old man’s call was not enough to dampen enthusiasm for the new endeavour. Shackleton’s name secured nearly £10,000, alongside a cornucopia of donated supplies—condensed milk, chocolate, gramophone records and enough tobacco for the men ‘to smoke to their hearts’ content’—helping defray the money pledged earlier and then mysteriously lost. The expedition looked like it now had a chance.
Mawson’s effort was born of Shackleton’s British Antarctic Expedition. Perhaps inevitably, his Australasian Antarctic Expedition—AAE, as it became known—used many of the same members, suppliers and equipment. In addition to Shackleton and David supporting the effort at home, John King Davis and Frank Wild agreed to join Mawson in the south. Davis had become a firm friend of Mawson’s during the previous expedition, nursing him through frequent bouts of seasickness and saving him from a crevasse after the young Australian’s now-famous journey to the South Magnetic Pole.
Mawson in turn had been greatly impressed with Davis’s skill as a navigator and captain. In the final phase of the British expedition Shackleton had given Davis command of the Nimrod and ordered him to return the vessel to Britain—a journey of eight thousand kilometres—during midwinter. Not only did Davis bring the ship and crew home safely; he also disproved the existence of several islands marked on navigational charts of the time. It was a remarkable effort, and proof to Mawson that Davis was more than capable of being his second-in-command. Wild too had demonstrated ability in the Antarctic, with an incredible feat of endurance during the southern journey with Shackleton. The AAE needed all the experience it could get; most of the other men taking part had none at all.
Mawson had also learned a few of Shackleton’s tricks when it came to finances. An old Dundee wooden whaling vessel, the Aurora, was identified as the expedition ship. It needed modifying, including reinforcing the bow with steel plates to handle the sea ice, but it would do. Because funds were short Mawson ‘had to buy the Aurora without even having the money to purchase her. Materials which required time in preparation had been ordered and bought—we could not turn back. Already Capt. J.K. Davis and I had made a solemn compact that we would go come what may, even had we to go in a cutter with no equipment. We felt sure that even should we not succeed by this latter procedure, our example would not be lost on the Britishers of the future.’ And it was not just the ship—a large part of the expedition’s inventory was bought on credit. It was becoming an Anglo-Saxon exploration tradition.
A focus of the Australian effort was to be Cape Adare, Borchgrevink’s former base on the north coast of Victoria Land. Mawson had been deeply frustrated by Scott’s lack of interest, and at the time wrote, ‘This area is crying out for investigation. It offers the greatest range of rocky coastline anywhere obtainable on the Antarctic Continent…it is here a connection must one-time have been effected with Australia…In my opinion it is the pick of the Antarctic for scientific investigation and I deplore Capt. Scott’s inability to include part of it in his programme.’
Shortly after, Scott reconsidered. In early May 1910 he wrote to David, who was in Sydney: ‘My idea has always been to try for the South Pole a second season if it is not possible to get there in one; and should the main object of the Expedition be achieved during the first season I have wished to transfer the station to the west of Cape North for the second season. Such a transference would, I think, be quite possible, though it would not be possible to go far beyond Adelie Land.’
Just a couple of weeks later Scott’s mind was made up, and he reiterated the prospect of visiting Cape Adare in the outline of his expedition to the Royal Geographic Society. These plans were brought forward dramatically when the Terra Nova discovered the Fram in the Bay of Whales and took what then became the British Northern Party to Cape Adare. Mawson was furious. In the Australian’s eyes, Scott had stolen his idea and, after Mawson’s fallout with Shackleton, Scott’s actions seemed hypocritical. Others were not so sure. Scott’s former engineer, Skelton, wrote to the British leader at the time, ‘Don’t take any notice of what those other people say about that being Mawson’s ground because you have a prior right to the whole of it, and anyway Shackleton and his friends can’t talk about what is right.’
Calmed by Kathleen Scott, Mawson presented his proposed Antarctic expedition to the Royal Geographical Society in April 1911. It was breathtaking in scale: ‘to accomplish a complete geographical and magnetic survey between Cape Adare and Gaussberg, a distance of over 2000 miles.’ Mawson reminded the audience that ‘it had been our intention of dropping a few men at Cape Adare, for that is the easiest and most accessible landing on the Antarctic continent. The facilities there afforded of coal and stores left by Borchgrevink’s expedition would have further simplified matters…In the light of recent events’—a thinly veiled reference to Scott’s switch to Cape Adare—‘this must be eliminated from our programme.’
The plan was modified, but still unparalleled in vision: four expedition bases spread out along a near-unknown Antarctic coastline. This was not a return to old ground; it was a complete scientific exploration of what many suspected to be an entirely new continent, lying in the ‘Australian quadrant’. With Scott taking Cape Adare, Mawson’s expedition was becoming more daring. Multiple sledging parties were to head into
the Antarctic hinterland, investigating almost all fields of science, including biology, glaciology, magnetism and meteorology, backed up by the first wireless link to Australia.
In tandem with the work on the ice, the Aurora, under Davis’s command, would traverse the Southern Ocean collecting ocean and biological samples alongside depth soundings. Mawson was in no doubt about the importance of his mission: ‘The early glimpses of the Antarctic continent, and its history, illustrate how little is yet revealed of the wealth of scientific data locked up within its icy ramparts, and calls for the united efforts of scientific bodies throughout the world to banish this ignorance, which stands as a reproach in this enlightened twentieth century.’ Not averse to striking a nationalistic note, he reminded the audience that it was his intention to claim the region for the Empire. Here, he made clear, stood a worthy successor to Shackleton.
The expedition would have the largest number of scientists of any Antarctic expedition to date. Scott had ten science graduates and professionals in a cohort of thirty-three men; Mawson had nineteen in his complement of thirty-one, covering the breadth of scientific endeavour.
Magnetism would be a feature of the extensive observation program. Although Shackleton’s British team claimed to have reached the South Magnetic Pole area, there were mutterings they might have fallen short; David and Mawson were unsure. Charles Chree, director of the Kew Observatory, wrote to David and said that, regardless, ‘Every one, I am sure, appreciates the truly heroic quest made by you & Dr Mawson…We want a little poetry and adventure in science to show to the public that scientific men are not machines.’ Mawson was determined to resolve the issue, preferably without heroics. He needed the expedition to approach the South Magnetic Pole from another direction and to be led by an expert. Just as Amundsen had, Mawson approached the Terrestrial Magnetism department at the Carnegie Institute for advice. After some deliberation they suggested Eric Webb, a trained magnetic observer, who after a five-month secondment at the Institute joined Mawson in Australia.