by The Endurance: Shackleton's Legendary Antarctic Expedition
After meals of seal steaks and hot milk, the men pitched their flimsy tents as high above the tidal mark of their new camp as possible, and retired to their wet sleeping bags. But a blizzard rose in the night, ripping the largest tent to ribbons and bringing the others down flat. Some of the men crawled into the boats; others simply lay under the collapsed tents, with the cold, wet canvas draped across their faces. The wind was severe enough to blow around the beached Dudley Docker—”and she is a heavy boat,” as Lees noted. Precious gear was lost to this unexpected gale, including aluminum cooking pans and a bag of spare warm underclothing—blown away to parts unknown.
On the 19th, with the blizzard still in full spate, the men were awakened by Shackleton bringing them their breakfast.
“The Boss is wonderful,” wrote Wordie, “cheering everyone and far more active than any other person in camp.” At least there was now plenty of food, and the men consumed prodigious amounts of blubber and seal steak. Hurley, Clark, and Greenstreet were enlisted as cooks, Green being one of the men on “the sick list.”
With shelter nonexistent, the sleeping bags were now sodden. The heat of the men’s bodies melted not just the snow underneath them, but the frozen, reeking guano of the penguin rookery on which they lay.
For months the men had dreamt of land, and for long days and nights in the boats they had fought for it. But now the hard truth dawned on them that the conditions they had so far encountered on this particular piece of land did not represent some terrible aberration, or a run of atrocious weather; this was the way it was going to be as long as they were on Elephant Island. On April 19, a quiet rebellion against these cruel circumstances occurred among the sailors.
“Some of the men were showing signs of demoralization,” Shackleton noted. They had neglected to place their gloves and hats inside their shirts during the night, with the result that these items were frozen solid come morning—demonstrating, as Shackleton stated, “the proverbial carelessness of the sailor.” They used this negligence as an excuse not to do any work.
“Only by rather drastic methods were they induced to turn to,” wrote Shackleton. What happened here? As at Patience Camp, the diaries leave one with a sense that all the facts have not been plainly spoken.
On April 17, Shackleton led the men back out to sea and around to a spit of land seven miles to the west of their landing, which Frank Wild had discovered. The second campsite became known as Cape Wild—Cape Bloody Wild by the sailors—after both its “founder” and its weather. A blizzard raged for five straight days after the crew’s landing.
“Some of the party … had become despondant,” wrote Wild, “& were in a ‘What’s the use’ sort of mood & had to be driven to work, none too gently either.” Wordie says, almost in passing, that “dejected men were dragged from their bags and set to work.” Hurley’s pointed diary entry on this day, however, is blistering:
Elephant Island
“Such a wild & inhospitable coast I have never beheld. Yet there is a profound grandeur about these savage cliffs with the drifting snow & veiling clouds.…I thought of those lines of Service.—
‘A land of savage grandeur that measures each man at his Worth.’ “ (Hurley, diary)
Now that the party are established at an immovable base I review their general behaviour during the memorable escape from the ice. … It is regrettable to state that many conducted themselves in a manner unworthy of gentlemen & British sailors.… Of a fair proportion of the [company] I am convinced they would starve or freeze if left to their own resources on this island, for there is such an improvident disregard for their equipment, as to allow it to be buried in snow, or be carried off by the winds. Those who shirk duties, or lack a fair sense of practicability should not be in these parts. These are harsh places where it takes all one’s time & energies to attend to the individual, & so make himself as effective & useful a unit as possible.
It was perhaps no coincidence that Shackleton chose the following day, April 20, to gather his company to make a momentous announcement: A party of men under his command would shortly set out in the James Caird and make for the whaling stations of South Georgia. The stupendous difficulties of this journey required no elaboration to the men who had just arrived on Elephant Island. The island of South Georgia was 800 miles away—more than ten times the distance they had just travelled. To reach it, a twenty-two-and-a-half-foot long open boat would have to cross the most formidable ocean on the planet, in the winter. They could expect winds up to 80 miles an hour, and heaving waves—the notorious Cape Horn Rollers—measur-ing from trough to crest as much as sixty feet in height; if unlucky, they would encounter worse. They would be navigating towards a small island, with no points of land in between, using a sextant and chronometer—under brooding skies that might not permit a single navigational sighting. The task was not merely formidable; it was, as every sailing man of the company knew, impossible.
“There is a party of 6 going to Georgia in the Caird,“ wrote McNish. “The party includes
Sir Ernest
Skipper
Creen
Macnish
McCarthy
Vincent.”
The pride with which this concise entry is made is palpable. After he announced his plans, Shackleton had called McNish over to examine the Caird and asked him whether she could be made more seaworthy.
“He first enquired if he was to go with me,” Shackleton reported, “and seemed quite pleased when I said ‘Yes.’ “ There is no evidence that any of the men chosen faced the prospect of the new ordeal with anything but matter-of-fact determination and satisfaction. Crean, indeed, had begged to be included, although Wild had wanted him to remain with him. Shackleton, it is true—as Lees took pains to inform him—could possibly have waited out the winter and then attempted to cross back the way they had just come to the whaling waters near Deception Island; but this option meant many long, fickle months of delay. Besides, the first boat journey had set him in motion, put him on a course from which there was now, it seemed, no turning back.
On April 20, Shackleton announced that he would attempt to sail the twenty-two-and-a-half-foot-long James Caird to South Georgia, 800 miles away. Immediately, McNish set to work adapting the boat for its momentous journey. On April 21, McNish wrote in his diary, “All hands are busy skining & storing penguins. Some repairing the Cairds gear 2 sewing canvas for the deck. Myself Marsten & McLeod are busy getting the Caird ready.… There are 5 on the sick list some heart trouble some frost bites & 1 dilly.” The negative for this photograph has been retouched, but apparently only to highlight faded details, rather than to change them.
“ The Skipper” Lieut. F.A. Worsley RNR
Shackleton chose the crew for the momentous journey very carefully. Worsley had already distinguished himself as a navigator by landing the three boats safely on Elephant Island. He had served for several years in the Pacific for the New Zealand Government Steamer Service, where he had become proficient in sailing small boats and navigating for landfalls on small islands.
Tom Crean
Wild wanted him to stay with him on Elephant Island; Shackleton wanted him in the Caird. Everyone knew that this tough seaman, who had won the Albert Medal for bravery on Scott’s last expedition, would be an asset to any cause he served. Crean was perhaps as close as one can come to being indestructible.
“Shackleton sitting still and doing nothing wasn’t Shackleton at all,” wrote Macklin. “We’d had all that at Patience Camp.” Moreover, with his eye ever on the sailors, the Boss may have calculated that another long, demoralizing waiting game was not feasible; psychologically, it was better to offer his men the hope of even the longest of long shots.
The crew of the James Caird was chosen with care. Worsley had proved himself a gifted navigator. McNish would be useful as both shipwright and sailor—his rebellion on the ice notwithstanding, he was, with Crean, Vincent, and McCarthy (also Marston and Hurley), one of the handful of men whose performance
during the boat journey had been singled out by Shackleton for commendation. Furthermore, Shackleton was once again gathering the potential troublemakers—Vincent and McNish—into his own safekeeping. Finally, in Crean, Shackleton knew he had a man who would persevere until the very bitter end.
Although the weather was still severe, all able hands now turned to equipping the lifeboat for its sea voyage. For the next few days, as the wind raged and driving snow fell, McNish was at work, mending a hole made by the ice in the boat’s bow above the waterline and constructing a makeshift “decking.” The timber available, salvaged from the freeboard of the Dudley Docker and other odds and ends, fell short of what was required, and so in lieu of an entire deck he assembled a frame to be covered with a spare bolt of canvas.
“Cheetham and McCarthy have been busy trying to stretch the canvas for the deck & They had rather a job as it was frozen stiff,” wrote McNish. The canvas was thawed, foot by foot, over the blubber stove, allowing the brittle needles to be pushed and pulled through the heavy fabric with a pair of pincers. Heavy, wet snow fell throughout the day as they worked, and Wild, of all people, was overheard to say that if the weather continued much longer “some of the party will undoubtedly go under.”
On the 22nd, McNish, working with few tools and frost-nipped hands, completed his task. The blizzard finally ceased, although heavy snow continued to fall as all able hands gathered round to look over his masterful handiwork.
“The carpenter had contrived wonderfully with the very limited resources at hand,” wrote Lees. “She has been strengthened in the hull by having the mast of the Dudley Docker lashed along her keel inside.” The Caird carried two masts: a mainmast, rigged with a standing lugsail and jib, and a mizzenmast, also lug rigged.
The bosun of the Endurance mends a net, 1915
A former trawlerman who had worked in the North Atlantic, John Vincent was physically the strongest man on the Endurance. His bullying manner had already caused friction, but he had held up better than most in the first boat journey to Elephant Island. Shackleton wanted him on board the Caird for his strength, seamanship—and to ensure that he would not cause trouble on Elephant Island.
The foul weather held over the next two days, but moderated on the 24th, and Shackleton decided to launch the Caird. Having no ballast keel, the boat was ballasted with 1,500 pounds of shingle-filled bags made of blankets, and an additional 500 pounds of boulders. Worsley believed the ballast excessive and was concerned the boat would ride low and ship water—her freeboard was two feet two inches; Shackleton’s fear was that a light boat would be in danger of capsizing in the high seas he knew they would face. The Caird also carried four oars and a pump that Hurley had made back at Ocean Camp from the binnacle of the Endurance. Additionally, bags of blubber oil were taken to pour on rough water, to prevent the breaking of waves.
Two barrels of melted ice were stowed along with the provisions. According to Hurley, these included:
30 Boxes Matches
8 Galls. Petroleum
1 tin Spirit
10 boxes flamers
1 box blue lights
2 Primus Stoves & parts & Prickers
1 Cooker Complete
6 sleeping bags
Spare apparel (clothes sox, etc.)
Food
3 Cases Sledging ration = 300 rations
2 Nut foods = 200 rations
2 Biscuits—300 in case
1 case lump sugar
30 packets trumilk
1 tin Bovril Cubes
1 tin Cerebos Salt
36 galls Water
112 lbs. ice
Insts. Sextant, Binoculars, Compass, Candles, Blubber Oil for Oil Bag, sea anchor, charts. Fishing line & triangle, twine & needle. Bit of blubber for bait. Boathook, Aneroid.
Launching the Caird
The decking of the Caird was completed on the morning of April 24, and as the weather was good, Shackleton decided to get under way as soon as possible. Here the men gather around the boat, preparatory to launching her. The Stancomb Wills, which was used to ferry supplies to the Caird for loading, is beached to the right.
Launching the Caird
“Monday April 24 A fine morning I started on the boat at day break & finished at 10 AM. Then all hands were mustered & we launched her.” (McNish, diary)
Shackleton also took his double-barrelled shotgun and some cartridges, and two axes. McNish took some of his remaining tools, including a carpenter’s adze.
The food supplies were calculated to last four weeks.
“For if we did not make South Georgia in that time,” wrote Shackleton, “we were sure to go under.” The charts were those Worsley had ripped from books in the library of the Endurance, before she was abandoned.
Should the relief expedition fail, Wild was under orders to make his way in the remaining boats to Deception Island in the spring. Meanwhile, he was in sole command mand of the men left behind. He too had begged to make the journey, but there was no other person—on Elephant Island or anywhere else—whom Shackleton so implicitly trusted as Frank Wild. He knew this man would undertake nothing that Shackle-ton himself would not. The two men talked late into the night, Shackleton laying on last-minute injunctions, and Wild, imperturbable, giving his silent assent.
Launching the Caird
“As we were getting her of the beach a heavy surf came up & owing to us being unable to get her up of the beach she almost capsised as it was she emptyed Myself & Vincent overboard.” (McNish, diary)
The Caird launched
“Great difficulty was experienced in keeping her off the labyrinth of rocks & reefs which abound along the treacherous foreshores” (Hurley, diary). The Caird carried two masts, and although there are no photographs or descriptions of her sails, it is thought that she was lug-rigged—that is, her sails were four-cornered and held from the mast by an oblique yard arm.
The Caird was taken out beyond the reef, where supplies were ferried to her by the Stancomb Wills, to the accompaniment of a running stream of banter and rough joking.
“Many were solicitous that …my behaviour on reaching civilization should be above reproach,” wrote Worsley. “As for Crean; they said things that ought to have made him blush—but what would make Crean blush would make a butchers dog drop its bone.” Taking advantage of the rare sunshine and clear horizon, Worsley had spent his last morning on land rating his chronometer.
A bad swell was running, and Marston, Greenstreet, Kerr, and Wild, who were carrying supplies through the surf, became wet to their waists. An early accident nearly put an end to the whole venture: While her crew were standing on her to load provisions, the Caird rolled heavily, nearly capsizing, and pitched McNish and Vincent into the water. Volunteers offered to exchange dry clothes with the men, but McNish refused, as only his trousers were wet; Vincent was wet through, and although he exchanged his trousers with How, he refused to take off his jersey.
“His refusal to change … called forth some unfavorable comments as to the reason,” wrote Lees, “and it was freely stated that he had a good deal of other people’s property concealed about his person.” How’s wet trousers would take two weeks to dry. Shackleton deeply regretted the mishap, knowing it would be taken as an ill omen by the men left behind.
Loading the Caird
Some 2,000 pounds of shingles and boulders were ferried to the Caird as ballast in the Stancomb Wills. Here, the men relay sacks (made of blankets) full of shingles to the Wills, the bow of which is just visible beyond the knot of men. The Caird, still moored to shore, awaits the supplies.
A band of ice along the north coast had steadily extended east for several days. Fearful that it would soon surround the island and prevent all escape, Shackleton was anxious to be under way. After smoking a last cigarette with Wild and shaking hands with his men, he boarded the Stancomb Wills and was ferried out to the waiting Caird; at 12:30 p.m., without ceremony or speeches, the great journey began.
“We took good bye
of our companions,” wrote McNish, “& set sail.” As the Caird cast off the painter from the Wills, the men on shore gave three enthusiastic cheers.
Standing high on the beach with his small pocket camera, Hurley captured the moment of departure—the waving of caps, the uplifted arms, the brave farewell. Before he left, Shackleton, ever the entrepreneur, had given Hurley written instructions to exploit “all films & photographic reproductions” in accordance with the contracts signed before the expedition’s departure.
To Frank Wild, Shackleton wrote a somewhat cryptic last letter:
April 23rd, 1916 Elephant Island
Dear Sir
In the event of my not surviving the boat journey to South Georgia you will do your best for the rescue of the party. You are in full command from the time the boat leaves this island, and all hands are under your orders. On your return to England you are to communicate with the Committee. I wish you, Lees & Hurley to write the book. You watch for my interests. In another letter you will
Hurley called this photograph “The landing on Elephant Island,” but it is clear from the landscape (and identical pattern of snowfall) that this was taken on the day the Caird was launched. In fact it depicts the Stancomb Wills preparing to set out on her fourth and last trip to supply the Caird. The object roped in the water is one of the two breakers of water for the Caird, which was floated in tow. The figure in the bow (facing the shore) holding the tow rope is probably Shackleton.
The Stancomb Wills supplying the Caird. “The Wills made heavy weather every time she came inshore, and most of the hands got wet loading her” (Wordie, Diary). Hurley called this photograph “Rescuing the Crew from Elephant Island”; but the boat is unmistakably the Stancomb Wills, and the photograph part of the sequence of loading the Caird.
