Shackleton ordered Wild to take a crew of five seamen in the Wills and sail west along the coast to look for a more secure campsite. The Wills set out at eleven o'clock. The rest of the party worked at a leisurely pace throughout the day. The tents were struck, then pitched again as high up on the beach as a shelf could be found that would accommodate them. The stores were piled even higher, in case of a sudden storm.
But most of the day was spent simply enjoying life.They were all still crippled from the six days spent in cramped positions in the boats, and now for the first time they began to realize the incredible tension they had been under for so long. They became conscious of it, strangely, by a mounting awareness of a long-forgotten feeling. It was something they knew now they had not really experienced since abandoning the Endurance. It was security. The knowledge that, comparatively at least, there was nothing to fear. There was still danger, of course, but it was different from the imminent threat of disaster which had stalked them for so long. In a very literal way, it seemed to release a portion of their minds which hitherto had been obsessed with the need to remain ceaselessly alert.
It was a joy, for example, to watch the birds simply as birds and not for the significance they might have - whether they were a sign of good or evil, an opening of the pack or a gathering storm. The island itself was a sight worthy of more than casual observation. Along the coastline, the cliffs looked like an enormous wall thrown up against the sea. Glaciers crept down their sides all the way to the water, where the action of the waves constantly wore away at the ice. Now and again, a small piece or a section almost as big as a berg would plunge into the water.
The ferocity of the land apparently spawned similarly forbidding weather. For some strange meteorological reason, savage, tornadolike downdrafts periodically swooped down from the heights above and fairly exploded when they struck the water, whipping the seas close inshore into a frenzy of spindrift and froth. Hussey thought they were the `williwaws,' sudden bursts of wind peculiar to coastal areas in polar regions. It was one of these, apparently, that had nearly caught the Docker the morning before.
They waited throughout the day for Wild and his party to return, but darkness came and there were still no signs of them. The other men ate supper and turned in, leaving the blubber stove burning with the door to the firebox open and facing seaward to act as a beacon. Hardly had they fallen asleep when the watchman heard a shout from seaward. It was the returning Wills. All hands were roused, and they went down to the water's edge. Wild brought the Wills through the breakers and she was soon hauled well up onto the beach.
Wild and his five exhausted men confirmed the fact that this was truly an inhospitable place. In nine hours of looking, they had found only one seemingly secure place to camp - a fairly sheltered spit of beach, about i So yards long and 3 0 yards wide, some 7 miles along the coast to the west. There was a good-sized penguin rookery there, Wild said, and his men had also sighted a number of seals and some few sea elephants. A nearby glacier would keep them supplied with ice for melting into water.
OPPOSITE Penguins on the island
Shackleton was satisfied, and he announced that they would break camp at dawn. The party was awakened at S a.m., and they ate their breakfast in the light from the blubber stove. When dawn came it was clear and still. The boats were launched and everything was loaded except ten cases of sledging rations and some paraffin, which were left behind in a very high crevice to minimize the weight in the boats. The supplies could be sent for later if the need arose. The tide came in very slowly, so it wasn't until eleven o'clock that there was enough water over the reef to get away.
The Wills had been lightened by transferring Blackboro to the Caird and Hudson to the Docker, and for the first 2 miles the boats made fair progress. Then, with hardly an instant's warning, the elements seemed to go berserk. All at once, the wind was shrieking in their ears, and the sea, which a moment before had been nearly calm, was torn into froth. They were caught in one of the violent downdrafts from the cliffs. It lasted only three or four terrifying minutes, and then was gone. But it heralded a change in weather, for within a quarter hour the wind had moved from the south to the southwest and quickly risen in force from breeze, to gale, to storm, then hurricane. The boats, under the lee of the land, should have been protected from the gale by the towering 2,000-foot cliffs alongside them. But instead, the cliffs sucked on winds passing overhead so that they shrieked down upon the boats, and roared out to sea.
Only by staying very close up against the land could the boats avoid being blown offshore. To port, the land rose so sheer that it looked as if it were hanging over them. Great drunken green waves were flung against the cliffs, and spray filled the air. To starboard, the sea was whipped into a maelstrom by the wind. Between, there was a meager corridor of safety; and along this passage the boats crept forward. And their progress was creeping at best. Shortly after noon, the tide turned and the current began to flow against them. They could gauge their progress against the land, and at times they seemed to advance only by inches or even to be standing still. To hoist sail was unthinkable; they could only row. The Caird still had its full quota of four oars, but the Docker and the Wills had been reduced to three apiece.
The temperature had fallen perhaps 15 degrees since the change of wind, and now hovered around S degrees. The spray combined with the snow to freeze into a mushy coating over the insides of the boats, and on the heads and shoulders of the men. During the loading of the stores, Greenstreet had given his mittens to Clark to hold. But then in the hurry to get away while the tide was favorable, Clark had gone off in the Cairn, leaving Greenstreet in the Docker with nothing to protect his hands as he rowed. Now his hands began to freeze. Frostbite blisters developed in his palms, and the water in them also froze. The blisters became like hard pebbles inserted into his flesh.
Somewhat after one o'clock, when they had covered half the distance to the new camp, they came to a towering rock protruding from the water about a quarter-mile offshore. The Caird, with Wild at the tiller, and the Wills under the command of Crean made the obvious decision to pass inland of the rock. But Worsley, acting on one of his unpredictable impulses, elected to pass outside of it. The Wills and the Caird struggled on toward the beach, but the Docker was lost from sight.
By going to seaward of the rock, she had ventured too far offshore and been caught by the full violence of the wind. Here the surface of the water was torn into foam and the wave tops were ripped off and blown downwind. Worsley knew at once that he had acted unwisely, and he swung the Docker back toward the coast. `Put your backs into it!' he shouted at the rowers. But it was almost all the oarsmen could do to hold their own against the wind, and it was doubtful how much longer they could do even that.
Worsley suddenly jumped up and shouted for Greenstreet to take the tiller; then he took over Greenstreet's oar. Worsley was fresh, and he set a tremendous pace. Somehow, Macklin and Kerr on the other oars managed to keep up, and slowly, foot by foot, they pulled their way closer to the rock and finally reached it. They had gained a lee only to be caught in the surge of the seas against the rock. `Back water! Back water!'Worsley screamed.
They held her off - but only barely. Three times the Docker was lifted up and hurled toward the_ rock, but then the wind eased down momentarily, .C and they were able to pull clear. Greenstreet resumed his oar, and they continued toward the land.
In the midst of the struggle, the mitten on Macklin's right hand had slipped off, and he saw now that his exposed fingers were turning white with frostbite. But he dared not stop rowing even long enough to cover them.
By now it was after three o'clock.The Caird and the Wills had landed safely. Two seals found lying on the beach had been killed and stripped of blubber to start a fire. Shackleton stood looking out across the storm-driven sea for a glimpse of the Docker. Finally, around a point of land, a speck appeared through the gray mists. It was the Docker, toiling into the wind toward the beach. It looked as if
she were going to make it, when suddenly another blast tore down from the cliffs.
Worsley again took over Greenstreet's place, and this time old McLeod put out the stump of a broken oar and added its feeble pulling power to the others. It made a difference, though -just enough to gain the reefs. Worsley quickly grabbed the tiller and guided her through the rocks.
The moment her bow touched, Greenstreet swung his numbed feet over the side and hobbled ashore through the surf. He spied the vapor rising from the freshly killed seals, stumbled toward where they lay, and thrust his frozen hands into their blood-warm bowels.
Chapter Two
Once more they were all on land, and safe. But the wondrous joy that had marked the landing only thirty hours before was absent now. They realized, as one man said, that `Elephant Island had flattered only to deceive.' She had revealed her true face to them, and the sight of it was ugly.
Moreover, an examination of the new campsite raised serious doubts about whether it had been worth the trouble to move. It was a rocky spit about 30 yards across, extending to seaward like a tongue stuck out from an enormous glacier 150 yards inland. The spit rose steeply from the water, and its tipper reaches appeared to be above the high water mark. But otherwise it was completely naked. Except at the shoreline, there was not a boulder or even a small rock that might protect a man from the wind.
`A more inhospitable place could scarcely be imagined,' wrote Macklin. `The gusts increased in violence and became so strong that we could hardly walk against them, and there was not a lee or a scrap of shelter anywhere.' As the forecastle hands were setting up No. 4 tent, the wind got under it and ripped a 4-foot rent in its threadbare material. A few minutes later, No. S, the old hoop tent, was caught by a blast of wind that very nearly tore it to shreds. The men made no effort to repair their tents, for by now it was dark and nobody really cared anyhow. They simply spread the tent cloths as best they could and weighted them down with rocks.Then they spread out their sleeping bags, which had been soaked anew during the trip in the boats, then lay down and fell asleep.
Throughout the night the wind continued to shriek down from the mountains. It got hold of the Docker, the heaviest of the boats, and swung her completely around. During his watch, Mcllroy looked on helplessly as the wind picked up a large bag of ragged old blankets and carried it out to sea. The men who were sleeping on the ground were slowly covered by an accumulation of snow. And by four o'clock, everyone was sleeping on the ground, because the tents had threatened to blow away, and had to be taken down.
The blizzard persisted throughout that day, and into the next. Hardly a man stirred from the meager protection of his sleeping bag until 11 a.m., when Shackleton ordered all hands out to kill penguins. Orde-Lees wrote: `The blizzard was, if anything, worse. It was impossible to face the wind. The driving snow rushed down one's throat as one breathed and choked one.' There were about 200 penguins altogether, and of that number they managed to secure a total of seventy-seven. `Skinning them with our already partially frostbitten hands was painful work,' Orde-Lees continued, `for to bare the hand for very few minutes in such a blizzard means almost certain frostbite. We sought shelter as we could find ... but it was only the warmth of the dead penguins that saved our hands.'
The weather cleared briefly during the night, and the hulking cliffs of the island stood out in silhouette against the star-filled sky. By morning, a fresh blizzard had begun, but it was not quite so bad as the last one.
It was April 20, a day notable for only one reason: Shackleton finally made official what everyone had expected for a long time. He would take a party of five men and set sail in the Caird for South Georgia to bring relief. They would leave as soon as the Caird could be made ready and provisioned for the trip.
The news came as no surprise to anyone. In fact a formal announcement was unnecessary. The subject had been discussed openly even long before the party had left Patience Camp. They knew that whatever island they might ultimately reach, a boat journey of some sort would be necessary to bring rescue to the party as a whole. Even the destination, illogical as it might look on a map, had been settled to everyone's satisfaction.
There were three possible objectives.The nearest of these was Cape Horn, the island ofTierra del Fuego -'Land of Fire,' which lay about Soo miles to the northwest. Next was the settlement of Port Stanley in the Falkland Islands, some Sso miles very nearly due north. Finally there was South Georgia, slightly more than Boo miles to the northeast. Though the distance to South Georgia was more than half again as far as the journey to Cape Horn, weather conditions made South Georgia the most sensible choice.
An easterly current, said to travel 6o miles a day, prevails in the Drake Passage, and almost incessant gales blow in the same direction. To reach either Cape Horn or the Falkland Islands would mean beating to windward against both of these colossal forces; it was enough to dare a 22-foot boat on these storm-racked waters without trying to drive her to windward. En route to South Georgia, on the other hand, the prevailing winds would be generally astern - at least in theory.
All this had been discussed and discussed again. And though the Caird's chances of actually reaching South Georgia were remote, a great many men genuinely wanted to be taken along.The prospect of staying behind, of waiting and not knowing, of possibly wintering on this hateful island, was far from attractive.
Shackleton had already made up his mind, after long discussions with Wild, not only as to who should be taken, but who should not be left behind. Worsley would be indispensable. They would travel perhaps a thousand miles across the stormiest ocean on the globe. The ultimate goal was an island no more than 2S miles wide at its widest point. To guide an open boat that distance, under conditions that were frightening even to contemplate, and then to strike a pinpoint on the chart were tasks that would sorely tax even Worsley's skill as a navigator. After him, Shackleton chose Crean, McNeish, Vincent, and McCarthy.
Crean was tough, a seasoned sailor who did as he was told. And Shackleton was not sure that Crean's rough, tactless nature would lend itself well to a period of enforced and perhaps long waiting. McNeish was now fifty-seven years old, and really not up to the journey. But both Shackleton and Wild felt that he was still a potential troublemaker and not a good man to be left behind. Furthermore, if the Caird were damaged by ice - a possibility which was far from remote - McNeish would prove invaluable. Jack Vincent bore the same stigma as McNeish - his compatibility under trying conditions was open to doubt, and he might fare badly if left behind. On the positive side, he had behaved well during the journey from Patience Canlp, and his simple strength was in his favor. By contrast, Timothy McCarthy had never caused anyone a moment's trouble, and he was universally liked. Shackleton picked him for no more complicated reasons than that he was an experienced seaman, and that he was built like a bull.
As soon as Shackleton made the decision official, McNeish and Marston went to work removing the planks that had been added to the Docker in order to fashion a sort of decking over the Caird. The blizzard made working conditions miserable.
The rest of the men were busy trying to create some degree of comfort. A new shelter was made for the galley out of packing cases, rocks, and some pieces of canvas. Because of the physical conditions of Blackboro and Rickinson, who was still weak from his heart attack, Shackleton granted permission for the Docker to be upended to form a shelter for the members of No. 5 tent. The men did what they could to make this shelter weather proof by packing snow and mud along one side, and draping blankets, coats, and odd bits of canvas from the other. But nothing could be done to dry the ground beneath the boat, which was a stinking mess of melted snow in which penguin guano had dissolved. The discomfort was so intense that even sleeping was almost impossible. The blizzard had continued for three days and nights. The winds, which Hussey estimated reached 120 mph, had driven the dust like snow into everything - even to the very foot of their sleeping bags, which had never even begun to dry out from the boat journey.
The strength of the wind made it perilous at times even to venture outside. Occasionally small blocks of ice were hurled through the air. Once a i o-gallon cooking pot was whisked from alongside the galley and carried almost out of sight before it was dropped into the sea. The forecastle hands lost their hoosh pot when it was put down on a rock for a moment; it simply disappeared. Another time McLeod spread out his Burberry parka to dry with two stones `as large as his head on top of it.' When he turned his back for a moment, the wind blew the rocks off, then snatched the parka away. Some men had their mittens blown off. Though a canvas covering was placed over the pile of stores and anchored down by a circle of large rocks, the wind seemed to reach underneath and snitch away small articles.
In spite of these miserable conditions, the work of preparing the Caird for her journey went on the following day. McNeish, Marston, and McLeod attached the runners of a dismantled sledge across the upper sides of the boat to form a framework for decking her over. Pieces of plywood from the cases of stores were nailed over these, and a canvas covering of sorts was begun. The mainmast was removed from the Docker and lashed inside the Caird's keel in the hope that she would not break in two when she encountered bad weather.
Periodically Worsley climbed to a ledge of rock about 150 feet high near the penguin rookery to observe the ice formation. A narrow belt of broken floes lay offshore, but it did not look too thick to get through. However, Worsley's primary concern was the continuing thick weather which prevented him from obtaining a sight with which to check his only remaining chronometer. Without a sight they would have to rely on the hope that the chronometer was accurate.
Greenstreet's frostbitten hands had recovered somewhat, and he and Bakewell were given the job of providing the Caird with ballast. Together they sewed shale into canvas sacks, about a hundred pounds to each sack. The canvas was frozen, and they had to thaw it out a foot at a time by holding it close to the blubber stove. The heat and the rough stones caused the frost-bite blisters in Greenstreet's hands to break and then bleed.
Endurance, Deluxe Ed: The Greatest Adventure Story Ever Told by Alfred Lansing Page 20