Little America

by Richard Evelyn Byrd Jr.

  Tonight the year will have run its course. And thanks to all hands a great deal of work has been accomplished. Certainly it is doubtful whether much more could have been done, everything considered. That, after all, is the test.

  The weather lately has been quite warm, and on the 27th and 28th the temperature was, for a few hours, above freezing. The wind was from the northeast. It shifted to the southeast. then to the east, and is now blowing softly from the south-southeast.

  The ice in the Bay of Whales is beginning to disintegrate. It still has a long way to go, though. The northern edge is still eight miles from the camp, and a great deal of thick old ice lies between. We watch it quite as anxiously as we watched it last January. If it goes out no farther, we shall have a difficult time hauling the materials out to the ship. One thing is certain: there will be no further experiments with the Barrier as a pier. The taste of that memory is still strong.

  In another month, God willing, we shall be on our way back.

  Wednesday

  January 1st

  The New Year begins inauspiciously enough. This time, last year, the City was at the Barrier. This year she is still at Dunedin. Even the Larsen, for all her tremendous horsepower, is just beginning to try to force the pack. It’s a tough situation all around. There is a possibility the City may be unable to get through. As a last resort we might try to induce one of the whalers to come down here and take the winter party aboard. But this would be an emergency measure. Having continued so long with our own resources, we ought to carry on alone as long as possible.

  This much is certain: another winter here, with our depleted supplies, would work great hardships. Worst of all at least two of the men cannot, I believe, survive a second winter. They must be protected.

  I have already opened negotiations with several of the whaling captains with a view to covering our retreat if the City should be blocked. Surely this is the prudent thing to do. It may be that I am unduly pessimistic, but there are elements in this situation which recommend that every avenue be kept open.

  We are fortunate to have Petersen as radio operator. A former operator on Norwegian whaling ships, himself a Norwegian, he knows most of the operators on the ships to the north. With their captains’ permission, they keep him posted on developments, and as a result we have an accurate picture of what is taking place in the pack. We would be in a bad way without him. The masters of these ships are most generous in their cooperation.

  Sunday

  January 5th

  The City has started south. Melville reports: “We sailed from Dunedin at 2:30 P.M. but owing to the severe southerly gale blowing outside and heavy seas did not proceed, but will wait until weather and sea moderate. Barometer low but rising gradually.”

  The good old City is in the thick of it from the start. Wait until she meets the pack. Then we shall see the stuff she is made of.

  Monday

  January 6th

  Melville says they dropped the pilot boat at 9 o’clock this morning. Weather clear.

  Come on, City!

  Footnotes

  1 Mawson, “Problems of Polar Resear,” 258.

  1 Priestley and Wright, “Problems in Polar Research,” 334.

  1 Amundsen, “The South Pole,” ii, 159. “—We built a great cairn, and left there a can of 17 litres of kerosene, two packets of matches—containing twenty boxes—and an account of our expedition.”

  CHAPTER XVI

  DEATH OF A CITY

  JANUARY found us on tenterhooks. The City was plowing south, meeting one storm after another, advancing to the greatest battle of her always rugged life. Three huge whaling factories, the Kosmos, the Southern Princess and the C. A. Larsen, were still north of the pack, prowling along its edge, waiting for wind and tide to accomplish what they dared not attempt even with their powerful engines. South of the pack were the Nilsen Alonzo and the Sir James Clark Ross, watching it with anxiety. Gould’s Geological Party, its job done, was racing home from the Mountains. And at Little America the winter party had its ears bent to the radio, which was handling the heavy traffic flowing from these separated units, telling of daily, and in many cases hourly, developments. There were grimness and excitement in the situation. The pack was an inscrutable, implacable resisting force stretched solidly between the parallels of 68 ° and 70 ° S.

  Would it also be our jailor?

  I admit frankly that no situation—not even the struggle up the pass of Liv’s Glacier—brought the worry that this one did. For we were anxious to get home. Our work was done, and waiting was trying after months of great activity. But this would have been nothing had we not been worried over the physical condition of several men. There were some of us who were prepared to spend another winter at Little America, regardless of the outcome of the City’s struggle with the pack, to continue the scientific work of the expedition. The plan had already been discussed. But for others the issue which hung in the balance was perhaps a matter of life and death. If the City failed to get through, at least one man might not live to see a second spring. Mason, the radio operator, had been developing symptoms of appendicitis. McKinley, too, was troubled with the same thing. Their illness had not progressed sufficiently at that time to inconvenience either of them very much, but it was a cause of alarm to the rest of us. The physical condition of a third man had gone down steadily since the winter. He had lost weight rapidly, his nerves were worn out and he was neither happy nor well.

  So far as the fundamental needs were concerned, the expedition could endure a second winter at Little America. There were seals, penguins and skua gulls with which to replenish the meat supply. We had an adequate amount of dehydrated vegetables to see us through. This contingency had been anticipated and prepared for. Nevertheless, an extended stay, if it were to come to pass, must work real hardships, with nothing but pipe tobacco left and that almost gone and the supply of luxuries such as butter, sugar and canned milk scarcely sufficient to last another month.

  More, there were some men—I can count them on the fingers of one hand—who were sick of the Antarctic, who were counting the days when they should return to the United States and looked forward to the City’s arrival as a release from hard and unprofitable existence. Temperamentally and physically, a second winter, especially an enforced second winter, would have tried their patience and temper more than sorely.

  Truth to tell, I doubt whether there was a single man, myself included, who was really eager to stay. The Antarctic, when all is said and done, is no pleasure resort. Even the very few modern conveniences which we had introduced had scarcely relieved its hardships. The hardest kind of existence that any organism has cut out for itself on this planet is that of the Emperor penguin, Mr. Cherry-Garrard has said. And even he has the sense to abandon it before winter comes. The Antarctic offers little enough solace, stimulation and satisfaction to a scientist and explorer with work to do. When that work is done, it seems the loneliest, most God-forsaken spot on this globe. Doubtless it is.

  So, through the miraculous agency of the radio and the unremitting efforts of Mason and Petersen, we followed the skirmishing between the pack and the vessels which lay outside; and as conditions grew worse instead of better and as it became apparent that this was perhaps the worst ice year in a decade, there were some who felt like going out there and trying to hammer it apart with their fists.

  Monday

  January 6th

  The Geological Party is coming fast. They camped at 82° 16’ shortly after two o’clock this morning. Soft snow has made the going rather hard these last few days, but men and dogs are apparently well.

  I informed Gould today of the developments to date with respect to the City of New York, the whalers and the pack. It was hard to give them bad news on top of such an arduous journey.

  If the City is here before February, we shall be in luck, according to present indications. There has been no improvement in the pack during the past week.

  The dear old City is right i
n the thick of trouble. Captain Melville radioed today: “Terrific southwest gale all night. Squalls of hurricane force. Rain, hail and a very high sea. Hove to under sail. At present moderation indicated.” Then later: “8 A.M. Am under sail and steam. Ship laboring heavily in high seas. All well. Regards.”

  Thursday

  January 9th

  No schedule with the Geological Party today.

  The City’s noon position was Lat. 47° 28’ S., Long. 172° 25’ E. Weather fine and the ship under both steam and sail. Her position is about 123 miles south of Tairoa Head.

  Our penguin farm will be the end of Siple.

  For the past month he has had about a dozen Emperors and about half a dozen Adelies in the pit formerly occupied by one of the Ford wing tips. Not the same ones all the time, however. That is the trouble. The shrewd little creatures get out every time. They spurn kindness and attention; they pay no heed to the inducements of civilization and the offer of a fine berth for their declining years in an American zoological garden. They refuse food, even though Siple and Rursey have lured them with canned meat, frankfurters, sardines and strips of seal meat and blubber nicely cut up. They rebuff these advances, and the moment their captors’ backs are turned try to scramble from the pit. And by means of some extraordinary occult power, they almost always succeed.

  When the first batch escaped, Siple hoped to keep the others in by setting a ring of bamboo pickets, the points of which were pointed in, about the rim of the hole. But the rogues shoved them aside with their bills. Then he massed gasoline drums about the hole, and caught a third batch. But every day one or two of them mysteriously disappeared. Exactly how they escaped we did not learn until Thorne came in one day with the news that he had seen a new flock of penguins waddling about the camp. Siple, suspecting the worst, rushed out and found half his penguins gone. Two were in the act of scrambling over the backs of the rest, whose bodies were heroically massed in a kind of a pyramid at the bottom of the pit—a sacrificial altar, if you will. The penguins in the bottom cannot escape, of course. Poor devils, I have already begun to regret having promised to bring them north.

  Friday

  January loth

  The Geological Party is camped on the southern edge of the crevasses at 81° 16’ tonight, having been impeded since Wednesday by soft snow and fog.

  The City logged 100 miles during the last twenty-four hours. That’s the way to do it.

  Saturday

  January 11th

  We have decided to begin preparing for loading operations at once. The more we examine the situation, the more it becomes apparent that we are confronted by abnormal ice conditions. It will be touch and go whether we shall be able to get north this year. As if the extraordinary thickness and density of the pack were not trouble enough, the ice in the Bay of Whales continues to hold. If anything, it is worse than last year. The northern edge is at least 8 miles from Versur-Mer Inlet. It was so widely ridged and cracked that we believe it would go out much quicker this year; but on the contrary it remains fast and stubborn. If there is no improvement before the City’s arrival, and I doubt if there will be, we certainly will have neither the time nor the dogs to carry our supplies over that distance. There are only two good teams in camp. A third team is out with Dr. Coman and Blackburn, who for several weeks have been making a survey of the Bay of Whales, and Gould has five more, making a total of eight available for loading.

  We made a study of the bay ice today and came to the conclusion that the ice is more likely to begin to go out along the western side of the Barrier than on this side. We have, therefore, decided to begin moving part of the equipment to Floyd Bennett Harbor by sledge teams, so that when the City arrives as little time as is possible will be lost in loading here. McKinley has been put in charge of this operation. A camp will be made about a mile in from the mouth of the harbor. Heaven help them if the ice starts to go out with a rush while they are on the bay ice. It may be perverse enough to carry out bay ice, harbor ice, camp and all. But I doubt very much that this will happen. There was no movement of ice in Floyd Bennett Harbor last year; and, to judge from the characteristics of the ice, there has been none for many years. Nevertheless, the men have been ordered to sleep on the Barrier.

  The City’s run under sail today was 140 miles.

  Sunday

  January 12th

  Gould says the Geological Party is camped tonight in the middle of the crevasses, awaiting better weather before continuing. Fog shut down on them as they reached the worst area, and Dr. Gould decided to camp rather than risk his men and sledges in trying to grope through the area in the fog. According to Gould, the area has changed considerably since they went through it on the outward journey, and much of the old trail has disappeared. I imagine they are in a very tight corner.

  The City made 83 miles during the last 24 hours. He last position was Lat. 52° 15’ S, Long. 175° 31’ E. She is now under steam, wind having failed.

  I am still holding the Bolling at Dunedin, until conditions improve. Captain Brown is tearing his hair out. If the Bolling were an armored cruiser, he could not be more eager to pit her against the pack. She is just an ordinary metal ship and we cannot afford to risk her in such heavy pack. Although she is protected in the bow her stern sheets are more than ordinarily vulnerable. It is my opinion that Brown was extremely fortunate in bringing the Bolling through on the first trip. Judging from the present experience and the experience of other exploration parties in the past, the conditions under which a small metal ship can be safely sent through the pack are not always available.

  Monday

  January 13th

  The Geological Party is still camped in the crevasses, held by fog.

  The situation with respect to the pack is really alarming. Both the Ross and the Nilsen Alonzo report very poor fishing, whereas the whalers to the north are finding good fishing. Moreover, the gunners on the Ross and the Nilsen Alonzo report that the few whales they have caught are scarred, showing that even the whales had a fearful battle trying to get through the pack. In my opinion, the Ross and the Nilsen Alonzo will start north very soon. If they go, the only source of immediate aid within eight hundred miles is lost. I shall therefore send a request for a chaser on the next radio schedule.

  Tuesday

  January 14th

  Captain Andresen, of the Kosmos, radioed today that he did not expect the pack to open up before the end of January or the beginning of February. He said also that he would not attempt to move his ship south until the pack opened. Fishing north of the pack, he added, was excellent, and so he has nothing to gain by attempting a passage.

  We can, therefore, expect no help from that quarter, if the City fails.

  Today I addressed strong messages to Captain Vermeli, of the Nilsen Alonzo and Captain Thorstensen, of the Ross, describing our predicament and asking them if it would be practicable to send two chasers to the Bay of Whales, to take off our equipment and the sick men in the event of an emergency.

  Until the situation resolves itself, we must develop and hold every avenue of escape.

  Apart from the protection of the sick men, what worries me most is the disposition of our equipment. If the Bolling is unable to get through, we shall be out of luck, that’s all. The City cannot accommodate 42 men, as well as her own crew, and all the supplies here, a large part of which is valuable.

  Wednesday

  January 15th

  The whole story of today’s development was told in the ironic note which Petersen posted on the bulletin board:

  “To the anxious public:

  “S.S. Ross is leaving now—but NORTHWARD. Swallow it, boys. But don’t worry if our own ships can’t get through. The Ross says: WE WILL GET THROUGH AND GET YOU ALL, SO DON’T WORRY.

  “Alonzo is still in the Ross Sea. She also says: DON’T WORRY.

  “S. S. Kosmos said: Heard Ross’s message to you this morning and add: Don’t worry. We won’t leave you behind.”

  PETE


  The anxious public, which follows Pete’s messages on the bulletin board as crowds used to mass in front of the bulletin boards of newspaper offices in July, 1914, took the news hard.

  But the rest of the camp was more amused than anything else.

  The one bit of good news came from Gould’s party.

  With dog food running short and tired of trying to out-wait the fog, they retraced their steps and made a new trail around the crevasses. Twelve miles on they picked up the trail and are now camped at 80° 27’ S “with all going well.”

  They should arrive within five days. I am relieved.

  Thursday

  January 16th

  Today I renewed my petition to Captain Vermeli, of the Nilsen Alonzo, asking him to send a chaser to the Bay of Whales to pick up a number of men and the more essential equipment. It had been arranged previously that he should send a chaser with supplies which he took aboard for us at New Zealand, and so I think he will do this.

  At the same time I instructed Captain Brown to be ready to start the Bolling south by Saturday.

  It is a blow to pride to have to call for help, but the circumstances leave no alternative. The whaling masters can ill spare the time to succor exploring parties, whose troubles are no fault of theirs. Every day lost from fishing when fishing is good means a sacrifice of $30,000 to the owners and stockholders. As the crews’ wages are in the nature of a bonus, the cost of assisting us must come, in part, from their pockets, unless we are prepared to pay it ourselves.

  Later

  Captain Vermeli’s reply is at hand.

  ADMIRAL BYRD, WFA

  Your message received. I have no doubt that the ice will break up in a week or so, so your ships will get through. As the whales are very scarce in the Ross Sea this year we are now going through the ice pack again. If your ships should not get through we will do our best to help you. Kind regards.