ELEPHANT ISLAND
The twenty-two men who had been left behind on Elephant Island were
under the command of Wild, in whom I had absolute confidence, and the
account of their experiences during the long four and a half months’
wait while I was trying to get help to them, I have secured from their
various diaries, supplemented by details which I obtained in
conversation on the voyage back to civilization.
The first consideration, which was even more important than that of
food, was to provide shelter. The semi-starvation during the drift on
the ice-floe, added to the exposure in the boats, and the inclemencies
of the weather encountered after our landing on Elephant Island, had
left its mark on a good many of them. Rickenson, who bore up gamely to
the last, collapsed from heart-failure. Blackborrow and Hudson could
not move. All were frost-bitten in varying degrees and their clothes,
which had been worn continuously for six months, were much the worse
for wear. The blizzard which sprang up the day that we landed at Cape
Wild lasted for a fortnight, often blowing at the rate of seventy to
ninety miles an hour, and occasionally reaching even higher figures.
The tents which had lasted so well and endured so much were torn to
ribbons, with the exception of the square tent occupied by Hurley,
James, and Hudson. Sleeping-bags and clothes were wringing wet, and the
physical discomforts were tending to produce acute mental depression.
The two remaining boats had been turned upside down with one gunwale
resting on the snow, and the other raised about two feet on rocks and
cases, and under these the sailors and some of the scientists, with the
two invalids, Rickenson and Blackborrow, found head-cover at least.
Shelter from the weather and warmth to dry their clothes was
imperative, so Wild hastened the excavation of the ice-cave in the
slope which had been started before I left.
The high temperature, however, caused a continuous stream of water to
drip from the roof and sides of the ice-cave, and as with twenty-two
men living in it the temperature would be practically always above
freezing, there would have been no hope of dry quarters for them there.
Under the direction of Wild they, therefore, collected some big flat
stones, having in many cases to dig down under the snow which was
covering the beach, and with these they erected two substantial walls
four feet high and nineteen feet apart.
“We are all ridiculously weak, and this part of the work was
exceedingly laborious and took us more than twice as long as it would
have done had we been in normal health. Stones that we could easily
have lifted at other times we found quite beyond our capacity, and it
needed two or three of us to carry some that would otherwise have been
one man’s load. Our difficulties were added to by the fact that most of
the more suitable stones lay at the farther end of the spit, some one
hundred and fifty yards away. Our weakness is best compared with that
which one experiences on getting up from a long illness; one ‘feels’
well, but physically enervated.
“The site chosen for the hut was the spot where the stove had been
originally erected on the night of our arrival. It lay between two
large boulders, which, if they would not actually form the walls of the
hut, would at least provide a valuable protection from the wind.
Further protection was provided to the north by a hill called Penguin
Hill at the end of the spit. As soon as the walls were completed and
squared off, the two boats were laid upside down on them side by side.
The exact adjustment of the boats took some time, but was of paramount
importance if our structure was to be the permanent affair that we
hoped it would be. Once in place they were securely chocked up and
lashed down to the rocks. The few pieces of wood that we had were laid
across from keel to keel, and over this the material of one of the torn
tents was spread and secured with guys to the rocks. The walls were
ingeniously contrived and fixed up by Marston. First he cut the now
useless tents into suitable lengths; then he cut the legs of a pair of
seaboots into narrow strips, and using these in much the same way that
the leather binding is put round the edge of upholstered chairs, he
nailed the tent-cloth all round the insides of the outer gunwales of
the two boats in such a way that it hung down like a valance to the
ground, where it was secured with spars and oars. A couple of
overlapping blankets made the door, superseded later by a sack-mouth
door cut from one of the tents. This consisted of a sort of tube of
canvas sewn on to the tent-cloth, through which the men crawled in or
out, tying it up as one would the mouth of a sack as soon as the man
had passed through. It is certainly the most convenient and efficient
door for these conditions that has ever been invented.
[Illustration: Our Dugout]
[Illustration: The Hut on Elephant Island]
“Whilst the side walls of the hut were being fixed, others proceeded to
fill the interstices between the stones of the end walls with snow. As
this was very powdery and would not bind well, we eventually had to
supplement it with the only spare blanket and an overcoat. All this
work was very hard on our frost-bitten fingers, and materials were very
limited.
“At last all was completed and we were invited to bring in our sodden
bags, which had been lying out in the drizzling rain for several hours;
for the tents and boats that had previously sheltered them had all been
requisitioned to form our new residence.
“We took our places under Wild’s direction. There was no squabbling for
best places, but it was noticeable that there was something in the
nature of a rush for the billets up on the thwarts of the boats.
“Rickenson, who was still very weak and ill, but very cheery, obtained
a place in the boat directly above the stove, and the sailors having
lived under the _Stancomb Wills_ for a few days while she was upside
down on the beach, tacitly claimed it as their own, and flocked up on
to its thwarts as one man. There was one ‘upstair’ billet left in this
boat, which Wild offered to Hussey and Lees simultaneously, saying that
the first man that got his bag up could have the billet. Whilst Lees
was calculating the pros and cons Hussey got his bag, and had it up
just as Lees had determined that the pros had it. There were now four
men up on the thwarts of the _Dudley Docker_, and the five sailors and
Hussey on those of the _Stancomb Wills_, the remainder disposing
themselves on the floor.”
The floor was at first covered with snow and ice, frozen in amongst the
pebbles. This was cleared out, and the remainder of the tents spread
out over the stones. Within the shelter of these cramped but
comparatively palatial quarters cheerfulness once more reigned amongst
the party. The blizzard, however, soon discovered the flaws in the
architecture of their hut, and the fine drift-snow forced its way
through the crevices between the stones forming the end walls. Jaeger
sleeping-bags and coats were spread over the outside of these walls,
packed over with snow and securely frozen up, effectively keeping out
this drift.
At first all the cooking was done outside under the lee of some rocks,
further protection being provided by a wall of provision-cases. There
were two blubber-stoves made from old oil-drums, and one day, when the
blizzard was unusually severe, an attempt was made to cook the meals
inside the hut. There being no means of escape for the pungent
blubber-smoke, the inmates had rather a bad time, some being affected
with a form of smoke-blindness similar to snow-blindness, very painful
and requiring medical attention.
A chimney was soon fitted, made by Kerr out of the tin lining of one of
the biscuit-cases, and passed through a close-fitting tin grummet sewn
into the canvas of the roof just between the keels of the two boats,
and the smoke nuisance was soon a thing of the past. Later on, another
old oil-drum was made to surround this chimney, so that two pots could
be cooked at once on the one stove. Those whose billets were near the
stove suffered from the effects of the local thaw caused by its heat,
but they were repaid by being able to warm up portions of steak and
hooshes left over from previous meals, and even to warm up those of the
less fortunate ones, for a consideration. This consisted generally of
part of the hoosh or one or two pieces of sugar.
The cook and his assistant, which latter job was taken by each man in
turn, were called about 7 a.m., and breakfast was generally ready by
about 10 a.m.
Provision-cases were then arranged in a wide circle round the stove,
and those who were fortunate enough to be next to it could dry their
gear. So that all should benefit equally by this, a sort of “General
Post” was carried out, each man occupying his place at meal-times for
one day only, moving up one the succeeding day. In this way eventually
every man managed to dry his clothes, and life began to assume a much
brighter aspect.
The great trouble in the hut was the absence of light. The canvas walls
were covered with blubber-soot, and with the snowdrifts accumulating
round the hut its inhabitants were living in a state of perpetual
night. Lamps were fashioned out of sardine-tins, with bits of surgical
bandage for wicks; but as the oil consisted of seal-oil rendered down
from the blubber, the remaining fibrous tissue being issued very
sparingly at lunch, by the by, and being considered a great delicacy,
they were more a means of conserving the scanty store of matches than
of serving as illuminants.
Wild was the first to overcome this difficulty by sewing into the
canvas wall the glass lid of a chronometer box. Later on three other
windows were added, the material in this case being some celluloid
panels from a photograph case of mine which I had left behind in a bag.
This enabled the occupants of the floor billets who were near enough to
read and sew, which relieved the monotony of the situation
considerably.
“Our reading material consisted at this time of two books of poetry,
one book of ‘Nordenskjold’s Expedition,’ one or two torn volumes of the
‘Encyclopædia Britannica,’ and a penny cookery book, owned by Marston.
Our clothes, though never presentable, as they bore the scars of nearly
ten months of rough usage, had to be continually patched to keep them
together at all.”
As the floor of the hut had been raised by the addition of loads of
clean pebbles, from which most of the snow had been removed, during the
cold weather it was kept comparatively dry. When, however, the
temperature rose to just above freezing-point, as occasionally
happened, the hut became the drainage-pool of all the surrounding
hills. Wild was the first to notice it by remarking one morning that
his sleeping-bag was practically afloat. Other men examined theirs with
a like result, so baling operations commenced forthwith. Stones were
removed from the floor and a large hole dug, and in its gloomy depths
the water could be seen rapidly rising. Using a saucepan for a baler,
they baled out over 100 gallons of dirty water. The next day 150
gallons were removed, the men taking it in turns to bale at intervals
during the night; 160 more gallons were baled out during the next
twenty-four hours, till one man rather pathetically remarked in his
diary, “This is what nice, mild, high temperatures mean to us: no
wonder we prefer the cold.” Eventually, by removing a portion of one
wall a long channel was dug nearly down to the sea, completely solving
the problem. Additional precautions were taken by digging away the snow
which surrounded the hut after each blizzard, sometimes entirely
obscuring it.
A huge glacier across the bay behind the hut nearly put an end to the
party. Enormous blocks of ice weighing many tons would break off and
fall into the sea, the disturbance thus caused giving rise to great
waves. One day Marston was outside the hut digging up the frozen seal
for lunch with a pick, when a noise “like an artillery barrage”
startled him. Looking up he saw that one of these tremendous waves,
over thirty feet high, was advancing rapidly across the bay,
threatening to sweep hut and inhabitants into the sea. A hastily
shouted warning brought the men tumbling out, but fortunately the loose
ice which filled the bay damped the wave down so much that, though it
flowed right under the hut, nothing was carried away. It was a narrow
escape, though, as had they been washed into the sea nothing could have
saved them.
Although they themselves gradually became accustomed to the darkness
and the dirt, some entries in their diaries show that occasionally they
could realize the conditions under which they were living.
“The hut grows more grimy every day. Everything is a sooty black. We
have arrived at the limit where further increments from the smoking
stove, blubber-lamps, and cooking-gear are unnoticed. It is at least
comforting to feel that we can become no filthier. Our shingle floor
will scarcely bear examination by strong light without causing even us
to shudder and express our disapprobation at its state. Oil mixed with
reindeer hair, bits of meat, sennegrass, and penguin feathers form a
conglomeration which cements the stones together. From time to time we
have a spring cleaning, but a fresh supply of flooring material is not
always available, as all the shingle is frozen up and buried by deep
rifts. Such is our Home Sweet Home.”
[Illustration: View of Interior of Hut on Elephant Island]
[Illustration: Marooned on Elephant Island]
“All joints are aching through being compelled to lie on the hard,
rubbly floor which forms our bedsteads.”
Again, later on, one writes: “Now that Wild’s window allows a shaft of
light to enter our hut, one can begin to ‘see’ things inside.
Previously one relied upon one’s sense of touch, assisted by the
remarks from those whose faces were inadvertently trodden on, to guide
one to the door. Looking down in the semi-darkness to the far end, one
observes two very small smoky flares that dimly illuminate a row of
five, endeavouring to make time pass by reading or argument. These are
Macklin, Kerr, Wordie, Hudson, and Blackborrow—the last two being
invalids.
“The centre of the hut is filled with the cases which do duty for the
cook’s bed, the meat and blubber boxes, and a mummified-looking object,
which is Lees in his sleeping-bag. The near end of the floor space is
taken up with the stove, with Wild and McIlroy on one side, and Hurley
and James on the other. Marston occupies a hammock most of the
night—and day—which is slung across the entrance. As he is large and
the entrance very small, he invariably gets bumped by those passing in
and out. His vocabulary at such times is interesting.
“In the attic, formed by the two upturned boats, live ten unkempt and
careless lodgers, who drop boots, mitts, and other articles of apparel
on to the men below. Reindeer hairs rain down incessantly day and
night, with every movement that they make in their moulting bags.
These, with penguin feathers and a little grit from the floor,
occasionally savour the hooshes. Thank heaven man is an adaptable
brute! If we dwell sufficiently long in this hut, we are likely to
alter our method of walking, for our ceiling, which is but four feet
six inches high at its highest part, compels us to walk bent double or
on all fours.
“Our doorway—Cheetham is just crawling in now, bringing a shower of
snow with him—was originally a tent entrance. When one wishes to go
out, one unties the cord securing the door, and crawls or wriggles out,
at the same time exclaiming ‘Thank goodness I’m in the open air!’ This
should suffice to describe the atmosphere inside the hut, only pleasant
when charged with the overpowering yet appetizing smell of burning
penguin steaks.
“From all parts there dangles an odd collection of blubbery garments,
hung up to dry, through which one crawls, much as a chicken in an
incubator. Our walls of tent-canvas admit as much light as might be
expected from a closed Venetian blind. It is astonishing how we have
grown accustomed to inconveniences, and tolerate, at least, habits
which a little time back were regarded with repugnance. We have no
forks, but each man has a sheath-knife and a spoon, the latter in many
cases having been fashioned from a piece of box lid. The knife serves
many purposes. With it we kill, skin, and cut up seals and penguins,
cut blubber into strips for the fire, very carefully scrape the snow
off our hut walls, and then after a perfunctory rub with an oily
penguin-skin, use it at meals. We are as regardless of our grime and
dirt as is the Esquimaux. We have been unable to wash since we left the
ship, nearly ten months ago. For one thing we have no soap or towels,
only bare necessities being brought with us; and, again, had we
possessed these articles, our supply of fuel would only permit us to
melt enough ice for drinking purposes. Had one man washed, half a dozen
others would have had to go without a drink all day. One cannot suck
ice to relieve the thirst, as at these low temperatures it cracks the
lips and blisters the tongue. Still, we are all very cheerful.”
During the whole of their stay on Elephant Island the weather was
described by Wild as “simply appalling.” Stranded as they were on a
narrow, sandy beach surrounded by high mountains, they saw little of
the scanty sunshine during the brief intervals of clear sky. On most
days the air was full of snowdrift blown from the adjacent heights.
Elephant Island being practically on the outside edge of the pack, the
winds which passed over the relatively warm ocean before reaching it
clothed it in a “constant pall of fog and snow.”
On April 25, the day after I left for South Georgia, the island was
beset by heavy pack-ice, with snow and a wet mist. Next day was calmer,
but on the 27th, to quote one of the diaries, they experienced “the
most wretched weather conceivable. Raining all night and day, and
blowing hard. Wet to the skin.” The following day brought heavy fog and
sleet, and a continuance of the blizzard. April ended with a terrific
windstorm which nearly destroyed the hut. The one remaining tent had to
be dismantled, the pole taken down, and the inhabitants had to lie flat
all night under the icy canvas. This lasted well into May, and a
typical May day is described as follows: “A day of terrific winds,
threatening to dislodge our shelter. The wind is a succession of
hurricane gusts that sweep down the glacier immediately
south-south-west of us. Each gust heralds its approach by a low
rumbling which increases to a thunderous roar. Snow, stones, and gravel
are flying about, and any gear left unweighted by very heavy stones is
carried away to sea.”
Heavy bales of sennegrass, and boxes of cooking-gear, were lifted
bodily in the air and carried away out of sight. Once the wind carried
off the floor-cloth of a tent which six men were holding on to and
shaking the snow off. These gusts often came with alarming suddenness;
and without any warning. Hussey was outside in the blizzard digging up
the day’s meat, which had frozen to the ground, when a gust caught him
and drove him down the spit towards the sea. Fortunately, when he
reached the softer sand and shingle below high-water mark, he managed
to stick his pick into the ground and hold on with both hands till the
squall had passed.
On one or two rare occasions they had fine, calm, clear days. The glow
of the dying sun on the mountains and glaciers filled even the most
materialistic of them with wonder and admiration. These days were
sometimes succeeded by calm, clear nights, when, but for the cold, they
would have stayed out on the sandy beach all night.
About the middle of May a terrific blizzard sprang up, blowing from
sixty to ninety miles an hour, and Wild entertained grave fears for
their hut. One curious feature noted in this blizzard was the fact that
huge ice-sheets as big as window-panes, and about a quarter of an inch
thick, were being hurled about by the wind, making it as dangerous to
walk about outside as if one were in an avalanche of splintered glass.
Still, these winds from the south and south-west, though invariably
accompanied by snow and low temperatures, were welcome in that they
drove the pack-ice away from the immediate vicinity of the island, and
so gave rise on each occasion to hopes of relief. North-east winds, on
the other hand, by filling the bays with ice and bringing thick misty
weather, made it impossible to hope for any ship to approach them.
Towards the end of May a period of dead calm set in, with ice closely
packed all round the island. This gave place to north-east winds and
mist, and at the beginning of June came another south-west blizzard,
with cold driving snow. “The blizzard increased to terrific gusts
during the night, causing us much anxiety for the safety of our hut.
There was little sleep, all being apprehensive of the canvas roof
ripping off, and the boats being blown out to sea.”
Thus it continued, alternating between south-west blizzards, when they
were all confined to the hut, and north-east winds bringing cold, damp,
misty weather.
On June 25 a severe storm from north-west was recorded, accompanied by
strong winds and heavy seas, which encroached upon their little sandy
beach up to within four yards of their hut.
Towards the end of July and the beginning of August they had a few
fine, calm, clear days. Occasional glimpses of the sun, with high
temperatures, were experienced, after south-west winds had blown all
the ice away, and the party, their spirits cheered by Wild’s unfailing
optimism, again began to look eagerly for the rescue ship.
The first three attempts at their rescue unfortunately coincided with
the times when the island was beset with ice, and though on the second
occasion we approached close enough to fire a gun, in the hope that
they would hear the sound and know that we were safe and well, yet so
accustomed were they to the noise made by the calving of the adjacent
glacier that either they did not hear or the sound passed unnoticed. On
August 16 pack was observed on the horizon, and next day the bay was
filled with loose ice, which soon consolidated. Soon afterwards huge
old floes and many bergs drifted in. “The pack appears as dense as we
have ever seen it. No open water is visible, and ‘ice-blink’ girdles
the horizon. The weather is wretched—a stagnant calm of air and ocean
alike, the latter obscured by dense pack through which no swell can
penetrate, and a wet mist hangs like a pall over land and sea. The
silence is oppressive. There is nothing to do but to stay in one’s
sleeping-bag, or else wander in the soft snow and become thoroughly
wet.” Fifteen inches of snow fell in the next twenty-four hours, making
over two feet between August 18 and 21. A slight swell next day from
the north-east ground up the pack-ice, but this soon subsided, and the
pack became consolidated once more. On August 27 a strong
west-south-west wind sprang up and drove all this ice out of the bay,
and except for some stranded bergs left a clear ice-free sea through
which we finally made our way from Punta Arenas to Elephant Island.
As soon as I had left the island to get help for the rest of the
Expedition, Wild set all hands to collect as many seals and penguins as
possible, in case their stay was longer than was at first anticipated.
A sudden rise in temperature caused a whole lot to go bad and become
unfit for food, so while a fair reserve was kept in hand too much was
not accumulated.
At first the meals, consisting mostly of seal meat with one hot drink
per day, were cooked on a stove in the open. The snow and wind, besides
making it very unpleasant for the cook, filled all the cooking-pots
with sand and grit, so during the winter the cooking was done inside
the hut.
A little Cerebos salt had been saved, and this was issued out at the
rate of three-quarters of an ounce per man per week. Some of the
packets containing the salt had broken, so that all did not get the
full ration. On the other hand, one man dropped his week’s ration on
the floor of the hut, amongst the stones and dirt. It was quickly
collected, and he found to his delight that he had enough now to last
him for three weeks. Of course it was not _all_ salt. The hot drink
consisted at first of milk made from milk-powder up to about
one-quarter of its proper strength. This was later on diluted still
more, and sometimes replaced by a drink made from a pea-soup-like
packing from the Bovril sledging rations. For midwinter’s day
celebrations, a mixture of one teaspoonful of methylated spirit in a
pint of hot water, flavoured with a little ginger and sugar, served to
remind some of cock-tails and _Veuve Cliquot_.
At breakfast each had a piece of seal or half a penguin breast.
Luncheon consisted of one biscuit on three days a week, nut-food on
Thursdays, bits of blubber, from which most of the oil had been
extracted for the lamps, on two days a week, and nothing on the
remaining day. On this day breakfast consisted of a half-strength
sledging ration. Supper was almost invariably seal and penguin, cut up
very finely and fried with a little seal blubber.
There were occasionally very welcome variations from this menu. Some
paddies—a little white bird not unlike a pigeon—were snared with a loop
of string, and fried, with one water-sodden biscuit, for lunch. Enough
barley and peas for one meal all round of each had been saved, and when
this was issued it was a day of great celebration. Sometimes, by
general consent, the luncheon biscuit would be saved, and, with the
next serving of biscuit, was crushed in a canvas bag into a powder and
boiled, with a little sugar, making a very satisfying pudding. When
blubber was fairly plentiful there was always a saucepan of cold water,
made from melting down the pieces of ice which had broken off from the
glacier, fallen into the sea, and been washed ashore, for them to
quench their thirst in. As the experience of Arctic explorers tended to
show that sea-water produced a form of dysentery, Wild was rather
diffident about using it. Penguin carcasses boiled in one part of
sea-water to four of fresh were a great success, though, and no
ill-effects were felt by anybody.
[Illustration: Elephant Island]
[Illustration: The Rescue Ship Sighted]
The ringed penguins migrated north the day after we landed at Cape
Wild, and though every effort was made to secure as large a stock of
meat and blubber as possible, by the end of the month the supply was so
low that only one hot meal a day could be served. Twice the usual
number of penguin steaks were cooked at breakfast, and the ones
intended for supper were kept hot in the pots by wrapping up in coats,
etc. “Clark put our saucepanful in his sleeping-bag to-day to keep it
hot, and it really was a great success in spite of the extra helping of
reindeer hairs that it contained. In this way we can make ten penguin
skins do for one day.”
Some who were fortunate enough to catch penguins with fairly large
undigested fish in their gullets used to warm these up in tins hung on
bits of wire round the stove.
“All the meat intended for hooshes is cut up inside the hut, as it is
too cold outside. As the boards which we use for the purpose are also
used for cutting up tobacco, when we still have it, a definite flavour
is sometimes imparted to the hoosh, which, if anything, improves it.”
Their diet was now practically all meat, and not too much of that, and
all the diaries bear witness to their craving for carbohydrates, such
as flour, oatmeal, etc. One man longingly speaks of the cabbages which
grow on Kerguelen Island. By June 18 there were only nine hundred lumps
of sugar left, _i.e._, just over forty pieces each. Even my readers
know what shortage of sugar means at this very date, but from a
different cause. Under these circumstances it is not surprising that
all their thoughts and conversation should turn to food, past and
future banquets, and second helpings that had been once refused.
A census was taken, each man being asked to state just what he would
like to eat at that moment if he were allowed to have anything that he
wanted. All, with but one exception, desired a suet pudding of some
sort—the “duff” beloved of sailors. Macklin asked for many returns of
scrambled eggs on hot buttered toast. Several voted for “a prodigious
Devonshire dumpling,” while Wild wished for “any old dumpling so long
as it was a large one.” The craving for carbohydrates, such as flour
and sugar, and for fats was very real. Marston had with him a small
penny cookery book. From this he would read out one recipe each night,
so as to make them last. This would be discussed very seriously, and
alterations and improvements suggested, and then they would turn into
their bags to dream of wonderful meals that they could never reach. The
following conversation was recorded in one diary:
“WILD: ‘Do you like doughnuts?’
“McILROY: ‘Rather!’
“WILD: ‘Very easily made, too. I like them cold with a little jam.’
“McILROY: ‘Not bad; but how about a huge omelette?’
“WILD: ‘Fine!’ (with a deep sigh).
“Overhead, two of the sailors are discussing, some extraordinary
mixture of hash, apple-sauce, beer, and cheese. Marston is in his
hammock reading from his penny cookery book. Farther down, some one
eulogizes Scotch shortbread. Several of the sailors are talking of
spotted dog, sea-pie, and Lockhart’s with great feeling. Some one
mentions nut-food, whereat the conversation becomes general, and we all
decide to buy one pound’s worth of it as soon as we get to
civilization, and retire to a country house to eat it undisturbed. At
present we really mean it, too!”
Midwinter’s day, the great Polar festival, was duly observed. A
“magnificent breakfast” of sledging ration hoosh, full strength and
well boiled to thicken it, with hot milk was served. Luncheon consisted
of a wonderful pudding, invented by Wild, made of powdered biscuit
boiled with twelve pieces of mouldy nut-food. Supper was a very finely
cut seal hoosh flavoured with sugar.
After supper they had a concert, accompanied by Hussey on his
“indispensable banjo.” This banjo was the last thing to be saved off
the ship before she sank, and I took it with us as a mental tonic. It
was carried all the way through with us, and landed on Elephant Island
practically unharmed, and did much to keep the men cheerful. Nearly
every Saturday night such a concert was held, when each one sang a song
about some other member of the party. If that other one objected to
some of the remarks, a worse one was written for the next week.
The cook, who had carried on so well and for so long, was given a rest
on August 9, and each man took it in turns to be cook for one week. As
the cook and his “mate” had the privilege of scraping out the
saucepans, there was some anxiety to secure the job, especially amongst
those with the larger appetites. “The last of the methylated spirit was
drunk on August 12, and from then onwards the King’s health,
‘sweethearts and wives,’ and ‘the Boss and crew of the _Caird_,’ were
drunk in hot water and ginger every Saturday night.”
The penguins and seals which had migrated north at the beginning of
winter had not yet returned, or else the ice-foot, which surrounded the
spit to a thickness of six feet, prevented them from coming ashore, so
that food was getting short. Old seal-bones, that had been used once
for a meal and then thrown away, were dug up and stewed down with
sea-water. Penguin carcasses were treated likewise. Limpets were
gathered from the pools disclosed between the rocks below high tide,
after the pack-ice had been driven away. It was a cold job gathering
these little shell-fish, as for each one the whole hand and arm had to
be plunged into the icy water, and many score of these small creatures
had to be collected to make anything of a meal. Seaweed boiled in
sea-water was used to eke out the rapidly diminishing stock of seal and
penguin meat. This did not agree with some of the party. Though it was
acknowledged to be very tasty it only served to increase their
appetite—a serious thing when there was nothing to satisfy it with! One
man remarked in his diary: “We had a sumptuous meal to-day—nearly five
ounces of solid food each.”
It is largely due to Wild, and to his energy, initiative, and resource,
that the whole party kept cheerful all along, and, indeed, came out
alive and so well. Assisted by the two surgeons, Drs. McIlroy and
Macklin, he had ever a watchful eye for the health of each one. His
cheery optimism never failed, even when food was very short and the
prospect of relief seemed remote. Each one in his diary speaks with
admiration of him. I think without doubt that all the party who were
stranded on Elephant Island owe their lives to him. The demons of
depression could find no foothold when he was around; and, not content
with merely “telling,” he was “doing” as much as, and very often more
than, the rest. He showed wonderful capabilities of leadership and more
than justified the absolute confidence that I placed in him. Hussey,
with his cheeriness and his banjo, was another vital factor in chasing
away any tendency to downheartedness.
Once they were settled in their hut, the health of the party was quite
good. Of course, they were all a bit weak, some were light-headed, all
were frost-bitten, and others, later, had attacks of heart failure.
Blackborrow, whose toes were so badly frost-bitten in the boats, had to
have all five amputated while on the island. With insufficient
instruments and no proper means of sterilizing them, the operation,
carried out as it was in a dark, grimy hut, with only a blubber-stove
to keep up the temperature and with an outside temperature well below
freezing, speaks volumes for the skill and initiative of the surgeons.
I am glad to be able to say that the operation was very successful, and
after a little treatment ashore, very kindly given by the Chilian
doctors at Punta Arenas, he has now completely recovered and walks with
only a slight limp. Hudson, who developed bronchitis and hip disease,
was practically well again when the party was rescued. All trace of the
severe frost-bites suffered in the boat journey had disappeared, though
traces of recent superficial ones remained on some. All were naturally
weak when rescued, owing to having been on such scanty rations for so
long, but all were alive and very cheerful, thanks to Frank Wild.
August 30, 1916, is described in their diaries as a “day of wonders.”
Food was very short, only two days’ seal and penguin meat being left,
and no prospect of any more arriving. The whole party had been
collecting limpets and seaweed to eat with the stewed seal bones. Lunch
was being served by Wild, Hurley and Marston waiting outside to take a
last long look at the direction from which they expected the ship to
arrive. From a fortnight after I had left, Wild would roll up his
sleeping-bag each day with the remark, “Get your things ready, boys,
the Boss may come to-day.” And sure enough, one day the mist opened and
revealed the ship for which they had been waiting and longing and
hoping for over four months. “Marston was the first to notice it, and
immediately yelled out ‘Ship O!’ The inmates of the hut mistook it for
a call of ‘Lunch O!’ so took no notice at first. Soon, however, we
heard him pattering along the snow as fast as he could run, and in a
gasping, anxious voice, hoarse with excitement, he shouted, ‘Wild,
there’s a ship! Hadn’t we better light a flare?’ We all made one dive
for our narrow door. Those who could not get through tore down the
canvas walls in their hurry and excitement. The hoosh-pot with our
precious limpets and seaweed was kicked over in the rush. There, just
rounding the island which had previously hidden her from our sight, we
saw a little ship flying the Chilian flag.
“We tried to cheer, but excitement had gripped our vocal chords.
Macklin had made a rush for the flagstaff, previously placed in the
most conspicuous position on the ice-slope. The running-gear would not
work, and the flag was frozen into a solid, compact mass so he tied his
jersey to the top of the pole for a signal.
“Wild put a pick through our last remaining tin of petrol, and soaking
coats, mitts, and socks with it, carried them to the top of Penguin
Hill at the end of our spit, and soon, they were ablaze.
“Meanwhile most of us had gathered on the foreshore watching with
anxious eyes for any signs that the ship had seen us, or for any
answering signals. As we stood and gazed she seemed to turn away as if
she had not seen us. Again and again we cheered, though our feeble
cries could certainly not have carried so far. Suddenly she stopped, a
boat was lowered, and we could recognize Sir Ernest’s figure as he
climbed down the ladder. Simultaneously we burst into a cheer, and then
one said to the other, ‘Thank God, the Boss is safe.’ For I think that
his safety was of more concern to us than was our own.
“Soon the boat approached near enough for the Boss, who was standing up
in the bows, to shout to Wild, ‘Are you all well?’ To which he replied,
‘All safe, all well,’ and we could see a smile light up the Boss’s face
as he said, ‘Thank God!’
“Before he could land he threw ashore handsful of cigarettes and
tobacco; and these the smokers, who for two months had been trying to
find solace in such substitutes as seaweed, finely chopped pipe-bowls,
seal meat, and sennegrass, grasped greedily.
“Blackborrow, who could not walk, had been carried to a high rock and
propped up in his sleeping-bag, so that he could view the wonderful
scene.
“Soon we were tumbling into the boat, and the Chilian sailors, laughing
up at us, seemed as pleased at our rescue as we were. Twice more the
boat returned, and within an hour of our first having sighted the boat
we were heading northwards to the outer world from which we had had no
news since October 1914, over twenty-two months before. We are like men
awakened from a long sleep. We are trying to acquire suddenly the
perspective which the rest of the world has acquired gradually through
two years of war. There are many events which have happened of which we
shall never know.
“Our first meal, owing to our weakness and the atrophied state of our
stomachs, proved disastrous to a good many. They soon recovered though.
Our beds were just shake-downs on cushions and settees, though the
officer on watch very generously gave up his bunk to two of us. I think
we got very little sleep that night. It was just heavenly to lie and
listen to the throb of the engines, instead of to the crack of the
breaking floe, the beat of the surf on the ice-strewn shore, or the
howling of the blizzard.
“We intend to keep August 30 as a festival for the rest of our lives.”
You readers can imagine my feelings as I stood in the little cabin
watching my rescued comrades feeding.
[Illustration: “All Safe! All Well!”]
[Illustration: View through a Cave on Elephant Island]