Endurance, Deluxe Ed: The Greatest Adventure Story Ever Told by Alfred Lansing

by Alfred Lansing

  And though they had not the vaguest idea where they might be, they knew one thing all too well: somewhere off to leeward the black cliffs of South Georgia were waiting, steadfastly hurling back this colossal onslaught of water. They wished they knew how far.

  It seemed inconceivable, but during the morning hours the wind actually rose, and by noon it was probably close to 8o knots out of the southwest. To prepare food was out of the question, but they had almost no appetites for eating anyhow. Their tongues were swollen with thirst, and their lips cracked and bleeding. Any man who wanted it could have all the cold sledging ration he could eat, and a few of them tried to gnaw on bits of it, but they lacked the saliva to swallow properly.

  The Caird's bow was kept pointed into the wind. But it was astern that they looked, trying to catch a glimpse of the island or the treacherous reefs that had kept them at bay the previous afternoon. All morning they heard it getting closer. Deep below the high-pitched shriek of the wind and the tormented upheaval of the sea, there was a thudding bass heartbeat, more felt than heard - the impact of successive waves breaking on the coast, transmitted through the water as a series of muddled shocks which struck the boat.

  Then, at just about two o'clock, they saw where they were. A quirk of wind tore the clouds apart, and two wicked peaks loomed above a line of cliffs and the perpendicular faces of glaciers that dropped sheer into the sea. The coastline looked to be about a mile away, perhaps a little more.

  But vastly more important, in that single glimpse they saw to their terror that they were only a short distance outside the line of breakers, the point at which the seas ceased to behave like swells and became combers instead, rushing faster and faster toward their own destruction against the land. As each swell passed under them they could feel it tugging momentarily at the boat, trying to get hold of her and hurl her toward the beach. It seemed now that everything - the wind, the current, and even the sea itself - was united in a single, determined purpose - once and for all to annihilate this tiny boat which thus far had defied all efforts to destroy it.

  No choice remained but to hoist sail and try to claw their way offshore into the teeth of this fiendish gale. But it could not be done. No boat - least of all the Cairn - could beat to windward under conditions like these.

  Shackleton rushed aft and took over the lines of the tiller from Crean. Then Crean and Worsley crawled up onto the decking and pulled themselves forward on their bellies. Had they stood upright, they would have been knocked or simply blown overboard. Finally they reached the mainmast, and hugging onto it, they cautiously got to their feet. The wind was so strong they could hardly get the jib off. But after several minutes' work they succeeded, and the Caird's bow instantly fell off into the trough. The two men lunged forward and hurriedly secured the jib to the forestay.

  McCarthy was needed to help with the mainsail, for had the wind got hold of it, their combined strength could not have kept it from being ripped out of their hands.

  But at last it was made fast and reefed, and the mizzen, too. Then Shackleton pulled the Caird's bow around to the south-east, and the wind, like a solid object, struck her a shuddering blow that all but capsized her. Shackleton shouted excitedly to McNeish and Vincent below to shift ballast. They, kneeling on the rocks and working as feverishly as their strength permitted, piled the boulders against the starboard side, and the Caird righted herself somewhat.

  She moved forward half a boat-length before the first sea struck her and stopped her dead. Solid water was flung over the masthead, and the strain was so great that her bow planks opened up and little lines of water squirted in through the seams. Once more she moved ahead, and once more the sea clubbed her to a halt. Over and over again the process was repeated until it seemed certain that she would burst her planking, or have the masts torn out of her.

  The water now was coming in both from above and below. It was rising so fast that two men working constantly could not handle it, so Shackleton put all hands to the task - three men on the pump and one bailing with the 2-gallon hoosh pot. That left one man to relieve whoever showed the first signs of exhaustion.

  But for all their efforts they seemed only to be standing still. Occasionally the clouds were ripped aside, revealing the coast off the port quarter, just as close as ever. After more than an hour they had demonstrated the truth of what they first suspected - it could not be done. No boat could beat to windward in such a storm.

  Shackleton was sure the end was very near.

  But actually they were making headway. Gauged against the indistinct outline of the coast, it was imperceptible - but it was real, nonetheless.

  They became aware of it suddenly just after four o'clock when a rift in the storm showed a great, craggy peak off the port bow. It was Annenkov Island, a 2,000-foot mountaintop shoved up out of the sea some S miles off the coast. And they realized at once that it lay directly in their path.

  Though the Caird's bow was pointed well to seaward, she was powerless to prevent the gale from driving her downwind. Thus her actual course was more sideways than forward. Nor was there any way to turn. Astern lay the coast, and the chart showed that off to port was a successive line of reefs. Only to starboard was there open sea - and that was surely the one direction she could not go, for that was the direction from which the wind was blowing.

  There was nothing to do, therefore, but to hold to the south-easterly course, as close into the wind as possible, and pray God that somehow she could edge by the island - if she held together that long. Neither was at all likely.

  By now it was getting dark, though the sky was somewhat clearer, and Annenkov Island was plainly visible most of the time as a black shape against the sky.

  The sight it presented was the more awesome by contrast. While they were literally enveloped in the wild ferocity of the storm, struggling simply to remain afloat - off to port lay this huge, resolute bulk which was implacably creeping closer through the darkness. Before long they could hear the deep booming of the surf against the cliffs.

  Only the man at the helm actually could see what was happening, for the others dared not pause in their bailing for fear that the water would get ahead of them. Periodically they changed tasks in order to get some relief. Thirst had long since ceased to matter, along with everything else except the fight to keep the boat under them. Each helmsman in turn, mindful of the anxiety of those below, shouted down to them reassuringly, `She'll clear it - she's doing it.'

  But she wasn't. By seven-thirty they were on top of the island, and the sheer mass of it now dominated everything to leeward.The sound of the seas against its side virtually drowned out even the screaming of the wind. The foaming backwash of the breakers thrown back from the cliffs swirled around the Caird, and the towering, snowy peak above them was so close they had to crane their necks to see it.

  Worsley thought to himself of the pity of it all. He remembered the diary he had kept ever since the Eiidiiraiim had sailed from South Georgia almost seventeen months before. That same diary, wrapped in rags and utterly soaked, was now stowed in the forepeak of the Caird. When she went, it would go, too. Worsley thought not so much of dying, because that was now so plainly inevitable, but of the, fact that no one would ever know how terribly close they had come.

  He waited at the helm, silent and tense - braced for the final, shattering impact when the Caird's bottom would be torn out against some unseen rock. As he watched, the water streaming down his face and dripping from his beard, the sky to the east crept into view.

  `She's clearing it!' he screamed. `She's clearing it!'

  The bailers stopped and everybody looked up and saw the stars shining to leeward. The island was no longer in the way. They had no idea how, even why - perhaps some unexpected eddy of the tide had driven them offshore. But no one then stopped to seek an explanation. They knew only one thing - the boat had been spared.

  Now only one obstacle remained - Mislaid Rock - three-quarters of a mile beyond the western tip of Annenkov Isl
and. So they clung to the southeasterly course, close into the wind. But somehow it all seemed easier. The roar of the breakers grew fainter, and by nine o'clock they knew that they were safely past everything.

  All at once they felt inexpressibly weary, numb, even indifferent. The gale, too, appeared exhausted by the struggle, or perhaps it knew that it had lost, for the wind rapidly died off, and within the short space of thirty minutes it had swung around to the SSW.

  They came about and set a course for the northwest, giving South Georgia a wide berth. The sea was still high, but the viciousness had gone out of it.

  They had to continue to bail almost until midnight before they had reduced the Caird's burden of water to the extent that three men could handle it. Then Worsley's watch was sent below to get some sleep, while Shackleton, Crean, and McNeish remained on duty.

  Once more their thirst returned, much worse than it had ever been. But only a pint or two of water remained, and Shackleton decided to save it until morning.

  At three-thirty, Worsley's watch took over and toward seven o'clock, South Georgia came into view again, about To miles off to starboard.

  They set a course straight for the land, but the Caird had hardly settled onto it when the wind shifted to the northwest and fell very light. Thus, throughout the morning their progress was steady but painfully slow. At noon they were almost abeam of Cape Demidov once more, and dead ahead were two inviting glaciers which held the promise of ice to be melted into water. But it was evident that they could not reach them before dark.

  Consequently they came about to head for King Haakon Bay. For twenty minutes they made good progress, but then the damnable wind swung around to head them off, blowing from the east - straight out of the bay.

  The sails were lowered, and with Shackleton at the helm, the other men took turns rowing, two at a time. Before long the tide turned and began to set to the south, thus aiding the wind in keeping them offshore. And it soon became apparent that they were doing little more than holding their own. However, by three o'clock they had managed to pull close enough to see relatively calm water in the bay beyond the reefs - and they also saw what appeared to be a safe passage. But they could not possibly get through before dark - not under oars.

  It was time for a last desperate attempt. Another night, this time without a drop of water, and possibly another gale - they simply did not have it in them.

  Hurriedly they ran up every sail to its full height and headed for the narrow opening in the reefs. But it meant sailing straight into the wind, and the Caird simply could not do it. Four times they lay off, and four times they tried to tack into the wind. Four times they failed.

  It was well after four o'clock, and the light was beginning to go. They ran the Caird a mile to the south, trying to get the wind as much abeam as possible. Then they came about once more onto the starboard tack. This time she just managed to slip through.

  Instantly the sails were dropped and the oars were put out. They rowed for about ten minutes, then Shackleton spotted a small cove in the cliffs to starboard.

  The entrance was protected by a small reef of its own over which the surge of the swell was breaking. But they saw an opening - though it was so small the oars had to be taken in at the last moment.

  About 200 yards beyond was a steep, bouldered beach. Shackleton stood in the bow, holding the frayed remains of the sea-anchor line. Finally the Caird rose up on a swell and her keel ground against the rocks. Shackleton jumped ashore and held her from going out.

  As quickly as they could, the other men scrambled after him.

  It was five o'clock on May 10, 1916, and they were standing at last on the island from which they had sailed 522 days before.

  They heard a trickling sound. Only a few yards away a little stream of fresh water was running down from the glaciers high above.

  A moment later all six were on their knees, drinking.

  Chapter One

  It was a curiously quiet moment, almost devoid of rejoicing. They had accomplished the impossible, but at a staggering price. Now it was over, and they knew only that they were unutterably tired - too tired even to savor much more than the dim awareness that they had won. They managed, however, to shake hands all around. It seemed somehow the thing to do.

  Yet even in that small moment of victory, tragedy threatened. The surf inside the cove was especially heavy. It had swung the Caird's stern around, and she was pounding against the rocks.

  They stumbled back down the beach, but the rocks were rough and their legs were rubbery with weakness. By the time they reached the boat her rudder had already been torn off. She had to be raised clear of the water - and that meant unloading her. So they formed themselves into a chain and began the laborious job of passing the stores up the beach. When that was done the hated rock ballast was thrown over the side.

  But when it came time to get the Caird onto safer ground, the real extent of their weakness became evident. Exerting every ounce of their combined strength, they could hardly do more than rock the boat back and forth, and after about six tries Shackleton saw that it was no use to continue until they had rested and had something to eat.

  A piece of light rope was made fast to the Caird's bow and secured to a boulder. They left the boat at the water's edge, pounding against the rocks.

  What appeared to be a small cave had been sighted about 30 yards off to the left, and they dragged their sleeping bags and a small amount of stores up to it. It proved to be hardly more than a hollow in the cliffs. But enormous icicles, at least 15 feet high, had collected across its face, forming a front wall. They crawled inside and found that the cave was about 12 feet deep, with ample room to shelter them.

  Crean lighted a fire and prepared some hooch. It was eight o'clock by the time they had finished eating, and Shackleton instructed all of them to turn in, saying that they would stand one-man watches over the Caird. He agreed to take the first. The others crawled into their wet, but blissfully motionless sleeping bags, and within seconds they were truly unconscious.

  Everything went well until about 2 a.m. Tom Crean was on watch when a particularly heavy sea caught the Caird and she broke loose. Crean managed to grab the bowline and he shouted for help. But by the time the others had awakened and made their way down to the beach, Crean had been dragged into the water almost over his head.

  With all of them pulling they managed to bring her back to shore, and they tried once more to get her up the beach, this time by rolling her over. Again they lacked the strength.

  Hamburg Glacier on South Georgia

  They were very close to exhaustion, but even their desperate craving for sleep could not be considered when weighed against the possible loss of the boat. Shackleton decided they would have to stand by her until daylight.

  They sat down to wait for morning. But there was no sleep because periodically they had to fend the Caird off the rocks.

  Shackleton reviewed their situation in his mind. He had originally hoped to use this place only as a stopover to replenish their water and to obtain a few days' rest, then press on around the coast to Leith Harbor. But the Cairn's rudder was now lost. Furthermore, if they were to have rest, the boat had to be pulled clear of the water. To do so, they would have to lighten her by removing the decking, since they lacked the strength to lift her as she was. Once that was done, she would hardly be fit to face the sea again.

  Sitting on the rocks waiting for morning, Shackleton came to the conclusion that instead of sailing to Leith Harbor, they would remain on the south side of the island and three of the party would go overland to bring help.

  By sea it would have been a voyage of more than 13o miles out around the western tip of the island and then along the north coast. By land it was a scant 29 miles in a straight line. The only difference between the two was that in the three-quarters of a century that men had been coming to South Georgia, not one man had ever crossed the island - for the simple reason that it could not be done.

  A few
of the peaks on South Georgia rise to somewhat less than 10,000 feet, which certainly is not high by mountain-climbing standards. But the interior of the island has been described by one expert as `a saw-tooth thrust through the tortured upheaval of mountain and glacier that falls in chaos to the. northern sea.' In short, it was impassable.

  Shackleton knew it - and yet there was no choice. He made his announcement after breakfast, and all of the men accepted it routinely and without question. Shackleton said he would make the journey with Worsley and Crean as soon as it seemed feasible.

  But there was work to be done first. McNeish and McCarthy were put to the task of removing the decking and the extra planks from the Caird, while Shackleton, Crean, and Worsley went to work leveling the floor of the cave with some loose stones and dry tussock grass.Vincent remained in his sleeping bag, gravely troubled with rheumatism.

  By noon, McNeish had dismantled enough of the Caird's upperworks to lighten her considerably, so they decided to attempt to get her up. And this time they were able - but just barely so. They shoved her up the beach literally by inches, pausing every few minutes to rest. She was safely above the high water mark by one o'clock.

  Later in the afternoon, Shackleton and Crean climbed a plateau at the head of the cove, and there they saw mounds of white among the rocks. These proved to be baby albatrosses on the nest. Shackleton went back for the shotgun, and they killed one adult and one chick.They ate them for supper, and Worsley wrote of the older bird: `Good eating but rather tough.' McNeish noted simply: `It was a treat.'

  Afterwards they turned in and slept for twelve glorious hours without a single interruption. By morning they all felt infinitely better. Later in the day McNeish recorded rapturously: `We have not been as comfortable for the last S weeks. We had 3 young & 1 old albatross for lunch. with i pint of gravy which beets all the chicken soup I ever tasted. I have just been thinking what our companions Ion Elephant Island] would say if they had food like this.'