CHAPTER III
FROM MACQUARIE ISLAND TO ADELIE LAND
The morning following our farewell to Ainsworth and party
at the north end of the island found us steaming down the west coast, southward
bound.
Our supply of fresh water was scanty, and the only resource was to touch
at Caroline Cove. As a matter of fact, there were several suitable localities
on the east coast, but the strong easterly weather then prevailing made
a landing impossible.
On the ship nearing the south end, the wind subsided. She then crept into
the lee of the cliffs, a boat was dropped and soundings disclosed a deep
passage at the mouth of Caroline Cove and ample water within. There was,
however, limited space for manoeuvring the vessel if a change should occur
in the direction of the wind. The risk was taken; the `Aurora' felt her
way in, and, to provide against accident, was anchored by Captain Davis
with her bow toward the entrance. Wild then ran out a kedge anchor to secure
the stern.
During the cruise down the coast the missing stock of our only anchor had
been replaced by Gillies and Hannam. Two oregon ``dead men'', bolted together
on the shank, made a clumsy but efficient makeshift.
Two large barrels were taken ashore, repeatedly filled and towed off to
the ship. It was difficult at first to find good water, for the main stream
flowing down from the head of the bay was contaminated by the penguins which
made it their highway to a rookery. After a search, an almost dry gulley
bed was found to yield water when a pit was dug in its bed. This spot was
some eighty yards from the beach and to reach it one traversed an area of
tussocks between which sea elephants wallowed in soft mire.
A cordon of men was made and buckets were interchanged, the full ones descending
and the empty ones ascending. The barrels on the beach were thus speedily
filled and taken off by a boat's crew. At 11 P.M. darkness came, and it
was decided to complete the work on the following day.
As we rowed to the ship, the water was serenely placid. From the dark environing
hills came the weird cries of strange birds. There was a hint of wildness,
soon to be forgotten in the chorus of a 'Varsity song and the hearty shouts
of the rowers.
About 2 A.M. the officer on watch came down to report to Captain Davis a
slight change in the direction of the breeze. At 3 A.M. I was again awakened
by hearing Captain Davis hasten on deck, and by a gentle bumping of the
ship, undoubtedly against rock. It appeared that the officer on watch had
left the bridge for a few minutes, while the wind freshened and was blowing
at the time nearly broadside-on from the north. This caused the ship to
sag to leeward, stretching the bow and stern cables, until she came in contact
with the kelp-covered, steep, rocky bank on the south side. The narrow limits
of the anchorage were responsible for this dangerous situation.
All hands were immediately called on deck and set to work hauling on the
stern cable. In a few minutes the propeller and rudder were out of danger.
The engines were then started slowly ahead, and, as we came up to the bower
anchor, the cable was taken in. The wind was blowing across the narrow entrance
to the Cove, so that it was advisable to get quickly under way. The kedge
anchor was abandoned, and we steamed straight out to sea with the bower
hanging below the bows. The wind increased, and there was no other course
open but to continue the southward voyage.
The day so inauspiciously begun turned out beautifully sunny. There was
additional verve in our Christmas celebration, as Macquarie Island and the
Bishop and Clerk, in turn, sank below the northern horizon.
During the stay at the island little attention had been given to scientific
matters. All our energies had been concentrated on speedily landing the
party which was to carry out such special work, so as to allow us to get
away south as soon as possible. Enough had been seen to indicate the wide
scientific possibilities
of the place.
For some days we were favoured by exceptional weather; a moderate breeze
from the north-east and a long, lazy swell combining to make our progress
rapid.
The sum of the experiences of earlier expeditions had shown that the prevailing
winds south of 60 degrees S. latitude were mainly south-easterly, causing
a continuous streaming of the pack from east to west. Our obvious expedient
on encountering the ice was to steam in the same direction as this drift.
It had been decided before setting out that we would confine ourselves to
the region west of the meridian of 158 degrees E. longitude. So it was intended
to reach the pack, approximately in that meridian, and, should we be repulsed,
to work steadily to the west in expectation of breaking through to the land.
Regarding the ice conditions over the whole segment of the unknown tract
upon which our attack was directed, very little was known. Critically examined,
the reports of the American squadron under the command of Wilkes were highly
discouraging. D'Urville appeared to have reached his landfall without much
hindrance by ice, but that was a fortunate circumstance in view of the difficulties
Wilkes had met. At the western limit of the area we were to explore, the
Germans in the `Gauss' had been irrevocably trapped in the ice as early
as the month of February. At the eastern limit, only the year before, the
`Terra Nova' of Scott's expedition, making a sally into unexplored waters,
had sighted new land almost on the 158th meridian, but even though it was
then the end of summer, and the sea was almost free from the previous season's
ice, they were not able to reach the land on account of the dense pack.
In the early southern summer, at the time of our arrival, the ice conditions
were expected to be at their worst. This followed from the fact that not
only would local floes be encountered, but also a vast expanse of pack fed
by the disintegrating floes of the Ross Sea, since, between Cape Adare and
the Balleny Islands, the ice drifting to the north-west under the influence
of the south-east winds is arrested in an extensive sheet. On the other
hand, were we to wait for the later season, no time would remain for the
accomplishment of the programme which had been arranged. So we svere forced
to accept things as we found them, being also prepared to make the most
of any chance opportunity.
In planning the Expedition, the probability of meeting unusually heavy pack
had been borne in mind, and the three units into which the land parties
and equipment were divided had been disposed so as to facilitate the landing
of a base with despatch, and, maybe, under difficult circumstances. Further,
in case the ship were frozen in, ``wireless'' could be installed and the
news immediately communicated through Macquarie Island to Australia.
At noon on December 27 whales were spouting all round us, and appeared to
be travelling from west to east. Albatrosses of several species constantly
hovered about, and swallow-like Wilson petrels--those nervous rangers of
the high seas--would sail along the troughs and flit over the crests of
the waves, to vanish into sombre distance.
Already we were steaming through untravelled waters, and new discoveries
might be expected at any moment. A keen interest spread throughout the ship.
On several occasions, fantastic clouds on the horizon gave hope of land,
only to be abandoned on further advance. On December 28 and 29 large masses
of floating kelp were seen, and, like the flotsam met with by Columbus,
still further raised our hopes.
The possibility of undiscovered islands existing in the Southern Ocean,
south of Australia and outside the ice-bound region, kept us vigilant. So
few ships had ever navigated the waters south of latitude 55 degrees, that
some one and a quarter million square miles lay open to exploration. As
an instance of such a discovery in the seas south of New Zealand may be
mentioned Scott Island, first observed by the `Morning', one of the relief
ships of the British Expedition of 1902.
The weather remained favourable for sounding and other oceanographical work,
but as it was uncertain how long these conditions would last, and in view
of the anxiety arising from overloaded decks and the probability of gales
which are chronic in these latitudes, it was resolved to land one of the
bases as soon as possible, and thus rid the ship of superfluous cargo. The
interesting but time-absorbing study of the ocean-depths was therefore postponed
for a while.
With regard to the Antarctic land to be expected ahead, many of Wilkes's
landfalls, where they had been investigated by later expeditions, had been
disproved. It seemed as if he had regarded the northern margin of the solid
floe and shelf-ice as land; perhaps also mistaking bergs, frozen in the
floe and distorted by mirage, for ice-covered land. Nevertheless, his soundings,
and the light thrown upon the subject by the Scott and Shackleton expeditions,
left no doubt in my mind that land would be found within a reasonable distance
south of the position assigned by Wilkes. Some authorities had held that
any land existing in this region would be found to be of the nature of isolated
islands. Those familiar with the adjacent land, however, were all in favour
of it being continental--a continuation of the Victoria Land plateau. The
land lay to the south beyond doubt; the problem was to reach it through
the belt of ice- bound sea. Still, navigable pack-ice might be ahead, obviating
the need of driving too far to the west.
``Ice on the starboard bow!'' At 4 P.M. on December 29 the cry was raised,
and shortly after we passed alongside a small caverned berg whose bluish-green
tints called forth general admiration. In the distance others could be seen.
One larger than the average stood almost in our path. It was of the flat-topped,
sheer-walled type, so characteristic of the Antarctic regions; three-quarters
of a mile long and half a mile wide, rising eighty feet above the sea.
It has been stated that tabular bergs are typical of the Antarctic as opposed
to the Arctic. This diversity is explained by a difference in the glacial
conditions. In the north, glaciation is not so marked and, as a rule, coastal
areas are free from ice, except for valley- glaciers which transport ice
from the high interior down to sea-level. There, the summer temperature
is so warm that the lower parts of the glaciers become much decayed, and,
reaching the sea, break up readily into numerous irregular, pinnacled bergs
of clear ice. In the south, the tabular forms result from the fact that
the average annual temperature is colder than that prevailing at the northern
axis of the earth. They are so formed because, even at sea-level, no appreciable
amount of thawing takes place in midsummer. The inland ice pushes out to
sea in enormous masses, and remains floating long before it ``calves'' to
form bergs. Even though its surface has been thrown into ridges as it was
creeping over the uneven land, all are reduced to a dead level or slightly
undulating plain, in the free-floating condition, and are still further
effaced by dense drifts and repeated falls of snow descending upon them.
The upper portion of a table- topped berg consists, therefore, of consolidated
snow; neither temperature nor pressure having been sufficient to metamorphose
it into clear ice. Such a berg in old age becomes worn into an irregular
shape by the action of waves and weather, and often completely capsizes,
exposing its corroded basement.
A light fog obscured the surrounding sea and distant bergs glided by like
spectres. A monstrous block on the starboard side had not been long adrift,
for it showed but slight signs of weathering.
The fog thickened over a grey swell that shimmered with an oily lustre.
At 7 P.M. pack-ice came suddenly to view, and towards it we steered, vainly
peering through the mists ahead in search of a passage. The ice was closely
packed, the pieces being small and wellworn. On the outskirts was a light
brash which steadily gave place to a heavier variety, composed of larger
and more angular fragments. A swishing murmur like the wind in the tree-tops
came from the great expanse. It was alabaster-white and through the small,
separate chips was diffused a pale lilac coloration. The larger chunks,
by their motion and exposure to wind and current, had a circle of clear
water; the deep sea-blue hovering round their water-worn niches. Here and
there appeared the ochreous-yellow colour of adhering films of diatoms.
As we could not see what lay beyond, and the pack was becoming heavier,
the ship was swung round and headed out.
Steering to the west through open water and patches of trailing brash, we
were encouraged to find the pack trending towards the south. By pushing
through bars of jammed floes and dodging numerous bergs, twenty miles were
gained due southwards before the conditions had changed. The fog cleared,
and right ahead massive bergs rose out of an ice-strewn sea. We neared one
which was a mile in length and one hundred feet in height. The heaving ocean,
dashing against its mighty, glistening walls, rushed with a hollow boom
into caverns of ethereal blue; gothic portals to a cathedral of resplendent
purity.
The smaller bergs and fragments of floe crowded closer together, and the
two men at the wheel had little time for reverie. Orders came in quick succession--``Starboard!
Steady!'' and in a flash--``Hard-a- port!'' Then repeated all over again,
while the rudder-chains scraped and rattled in their channels.
Gradually the swell subsided, smoothed by the weight of ice. The tranquillity
of the water heightened the superb effects of this glacial world. Majestic
tabular bergs whose crevices exhaled a vaporous azure; lofty spires, radiant
turrets and splendid castles; honeycombed masses illumined by pale green
light within whose fairy labyrinths the water washed and gurgled. Seals
and penguins on magic gondolas were the silent denizens of this dreamy Venice.
In the soft glamour of the midsummer midnight sun, we were possessed by
a rapturous wonder--the rare thrill of unreality.
The ice closed in, and shock after shock made the ship vibrate as she struck
the smaller pieces full and fair, followed by a crunching and grinding as
they scraped past the sides. The dense pack had come, and hardly a square
foot of space showed amongst the blocks; smaller ones packing in between
the larger, until the sea was covered with a continuous armour of ice. The
ominous sound arising from thousands of faces rubbing together as they gently
oscillated in the swell was impressive. It spoke of a force all-powerful,
in whose grip puny ships might be locked for years and the less fortunate
receive their last embrace.
The pack grew heavier and the bergs more numerous, embattled in a formidable
array. If an ideal picture, from our point of view it was impenetrable.
No ``water sky'' showed as a distant beacon; over all was reflected the
pitiless, white glare of the ice. The `Aurora' retreated to the open sea,
and headed to the west in search of a break in the ice-front. The wind blew
from the south-east, and, with sails set to assist the engines, rapid progress
was made.
The southern prospect was disappointing, for the heavy pack was ranged in
a continuous bar. The over-arching sky invariably shone with that yellowish-white
effulgence known as ``ice blink," indicative of continuous ice, in contrast
with the dark water sky, a sign of open water, or a mottled sky proceeding
from an ice-strewn
but navigable sea.
Though progress can be made in dense pack, provided it is not too heavy,
advance is necessarily very slow--a few miles a day, and that at the expense
of much coal. Without a well-defined ``water sky' it would have been foolish
to have entered. Further, everything pointed to heavier ice-conditions in
the south, and, indeed, in several places we reconnoitred, and such was
proved to be the case. Large bergs were numerous, which, on account of being
almost unaffected by surface currents because of their ponderous bulk and
stupendous draught, helped to compact the sllallow surface-ice under the
free influence of currents and winds. In our westerly course we were sometimes
able to edge a little to the south, but were always reduced to our old
position within a few hours. Long projecting ``tongues'' were met at intervals
and, when narrow or open, we pushed through them.
Whales were frequently seen, both rorquals and killers. On the pack, sea-leopards
and crab-eater seals sometimes appeared. At one time as many as a hundred
would be counted from the bridge and at other
moments not a single one could be sighted. They were not alarmed, unless
the ship happened to bump against ice-masses within a short distance of
them. A small sea-leopard, shot from the fo'c'sle by a well-directed bullet
from Wild, was taken on board as a specimen; the meat serving as a great
treat for the dogs.
On January 2, when driving through a tongue of pack, a halt was made to
``ice ship.'' A number of men scrambled over the side on to a large piece
of floe and handed up the ice. It was soon discovered, however, that the
swell was too great, for masses of ice ten tons or more in weight swayed
about under the stern, endangering the propeller and rudder--the vulnerable
parts of the vessel. So we moved on, having secured enough fresh-water ice
to supply a pleasant change after the sormewhat discoloured tank-water then
being served out. The ice still remained compact and forbidding, but each
day we hoped to discover a weak spot through which we might probe to the
land itself.
On the evening of January 2 we saw a high, pinnacled berg, a few miles within
the edge of the pack, closely resembling a rocky peak; the transparent ice
of which it was composed appeared, in the dull light, of a much darker hue
than the surrounding bergs. Another adjacent block exhibited a large black
patch on its northern face, the exact nature of which could not be ascertained
at a distance. Examples of rock debris embedded in bergs had already been
observed, and it was presumed that this was a similar case. These were all
hopeful signs, for the earthy matter must, of course, have been picked up
by the ice during its repose upon some adjacent land.
At this same spot, large flocks of silver-grey petrels were seen resting
on the ice and skimming the water in search of food. As soon as we had entered
the ice-zone, most of our old companions, such as the albatross, had deserted,
while a new suite of Antarctic birds had taken their place. These included
the beautiful snow petrel, the Antarctic petrel, and the small, lissome
Wilson petrel--a link with the bird-life of more temperate seas.
On the evening of January 3 the wind was blowing fresh from the south-east
and falling snow obscured the horizon. The pack took a decided turn to the
north, which fact was particularly disappointing in view of the distance
we had already traversed to the west. We were now approaching the longitude
of D'Urville's landfall, and still the pack showed no signs of slackening.
I was beginning to feel very anxious, and had decided not to pass that longitude
without resorting to desperate measures.
The change in our fortunes occurred at five o'clock next morning,
when the Chief Officer, Toucher, came down from the bridge to report that
the atmosphere was clearing and that there appeared to be land- ice near
by. Sure enough, on the port side, within a quarter of a mile, rose a massive
barrier of ice extending far into the mist and separated from the ship by
a little loose pack-ice. The problem to be solved was, whether it was the
seaward face of an ice-covered continent, the ice-capping of a low island
or only a flat-topped iceberg of immense proportions.
By 7 A.M. a corner was reached where the ice-wall trended southward, limned
on the horizon in a series of bays and headlands. An El Dorado had opened
before us, for the winds coming from the east of south had
cleared the pack away from the lee of the ice-wall, so that in the distance
a comparatively clear sea was visible, closed by a bar of ice, a few miles
in extent. Into this we steered, hugging the ice-wall, and were soon in
the open, speeding along in glorious sunshine, bringing new sights into
view every moment.
The wall, along the northern face, was low--from thirty
to seventy feet in height--but the face along which we were now progressing
gradually rose in altitude to the south. It was obviously a shelf-ice formation
(or a glacier-tongue projection of it), exactly similar in build, for instance,
to the Great Ross Barrier so well described by Ross, Scott, and others.
At the north-west corner, at half a dozen places within a few miles of each
other, the wall was puckered up and surmounted by semi-conical eminences,
half as high as the face itself. These peculiar elevations were unlike anything
previously recorded and remained unexplained for a while, until closer inspection
showed them to be the result of impact with other ice-masses--a curious
but conceivable cause.
On pieces of broken floe Weddell seals were noted. They were the first seen
on the voyage and a sure indication of land, for their habitat ranges over
the coastal waters of Antarctic lands.
A large, low, dome-topped elevation, about one mile in diameter,
was passed on the starboard side, at a distance of two miles from the long
ice-cliff. This corresponded in shape with what Ross frequently referred
to as an ``ice island,'' uncertain whether it was a berg or ice-covered
land. A sounding close by gave two hundred and eight fathoms, showing that
we were on the continental shelf, and increasing tile probability that the
``ice island'' was aground.
Birds innumerable appeared on every hand: snow petrels, silver petrels,
Cape pigeons and Antarctic petrels. They fluttered in hundreds about our
bows. Cape pigeons are well known in lower latitudes, and it was interesting
to find them so far south. As they have chessboard-like markings on the
back when seen in flight, there is no mistaking them.
The ice-wall or glacier-tongue now took a turn to the south-east. At this
point it had risen to a great height, about two hundred feet sheer. A fresh
wind was blowing in our teeth from the south-south- east, and beyond this
point would be driving us on to the cliffs. We put the ship about, therefore,
and made for the lee side of the
``ice island.''
In isolated coveys on the inclined top of the ``island'' were several flocks,
each containing hundreds of Antarctic petrels. At intervals they would rise
into the air in clouds, shortly afterwards to settle down again on the snow.
Captain Davis moved the ship carefully against the lee wall of the ``island,''
with a view of replenishing our watersupply, but it was unscalable, and
we were forced to withdraw. Crouched on a small projection near the water's
edge was a seal, trying to evade the eyes of a dozen large grampuses which
were playing about near our stern. These monsters appeared to be about twenty-five
feet in length. They are the most formidable predacious mammals of the Antarctic
seas, and annually account for large numbers of seals, penguins, and other
cetaceans. The sea-leopard is its competitor, though not nearly so ferocious
as the grampus, of whom it lives in terror.
The midnight hours were spent off the ``ice island'' while we wafted for
a decrease in the wind. Bars of cirrus clouds covered the whole sky--the
presage of a coming storm. The wind arose, and distant objects were blotted
out by driving snow. An attempt was made to keep the ship in shelter by
steaming into the wind, but as ``ice island'' and glacier-tongue were lost
in clouds of snow, we were fortunate to make the lee of the latter, about
fourteen miles to the north. There we steamed up and down until the afternoon
of January 5, when the weather improved. A sounding was taken and the course
was once more set for the south.
The sky remained overcast, the atmosphere foggy, and a south-south-east
wind was blowing as we came abreast of the ``ice island,'' which, by the
way, was discovered to have drifted several miles to the north, thus proving
itself to be a free-floating berg. The glacier-tongue on the port side took
a sharp turn to the east-south-east, disappearing on the horizon. As there
was no pack in sight and the water was merely littered with fragments of
ice, it appeared most likely that the turn in the glacier-tongue was part
of a great sweeping curve ultimately joining with the southward land. On
our south-south-east course we soon lost sight of the ice-cliffs in a gathering
fog.
On the afternoon of January 6 the wind abated and the fog began to clear.
At 5 P.M. a line of ice confronted us and, an hour later, the `Aurora' was
in calm water under another mighty ice face trending across our course.
This wall was precisely similar to the one seen on the previous evening,
and might well have been a continuation of it. It is scarcely credible that
when the `Aurora' came south the following year, the glacier-tongue first
discovered had entirely disappeared. It was apparently nothing more than
a huge iceberg measuring forty miles in length. Specially valuable, as clearing
up any doubt that may have remained, was its re-discovery the following
year some fifty miles to the north-west. Close to the face of the new ice-wall,
which proved to he a true glacier-tongue, a mud bottom was found at a depth
of three hundred and ninety-five fathoms.
While we were steaming in calm water to the south-west, the massive front,
serrated by shallow bays and capes, passed in magnificent review. Its height
attained a maximum of one hundred and fifty feet. In places the sea had
eaten out enormous blue grottoes. At one spot, several of these had broken
into each other to form a huge domed cavern, the roof of which hung one
hundred feet above the sea. The noble portico was flanked by giant pillars.
The glacier-tongue bore all the characters of shelf-ice, by which is meant
a floating extension of the land-ice.** A table-topped berg in the act of
formation was seen, separated from the parent body of shelf-ice by a deep
fissure several yards in width.
** Subsequently this shelf-ice formation was found to be a floating glacier-tongue
sixty miles in length, the seaward exttension of a large glacier which we
named the Mertz Glacier.
At 11 P.M. the `Aurora' entered a bay, ten miles wide, bounded on the east
by the shelf-ice wall and on the west by a steep snow-covered promontory
rising approximately two thousand feet in height, as yet seen dimly in hazy
outline through the mist. No rock was visible, but the contour of the ridge
was clearly that of ice-capped land.
There was much jubilation among the watchers on deck at the prospect. Every
available field-glass and telescope was brought to bear upon it. It was
almost certainly the Antarctic continent, though, at that time,
its extension to the east, west and south remained to be proved. The shelf-ice
was seen to be securely attached to it and, near its point of junction with
the undulating land-ice, we beheld the mountains of this mysterious land
haloed in ghostly mist.
While passing the extremity of the western promontory, we observed an exposure
of rock, jutting out of the ice near sea-level, in the face of a scar left
by an avalanche. Later, when passing within half a cable's length of several
berg-like masses of ice lying off the coast, rock was again visible in black
relief against the water's edge, forming a pedestal for the ice. The ship
was kept farther offshore, after this warning, for though she was designed
to buffet with the ice, we had no desire to test her resistance to rock.
The bottom was very irregular, and as an extra precaution, soundings were
taken every few minutes. Through a light fog all that could be seen landwards
was a steep, sloping, icy surface descending from the interior, and terminating
abruptly in a seaward cliff fifty to two hundred feet in height.
The ice-sheet terminating in this wall presented a more broken surface than
the floating shelf-ice. It was riven and distorted by gaping crevasses;
an indication of the rough bed over which it had travelled.
Towards midnight another bay was entered and many rocky islets appeared
on its western side. The engines were stopped for a few hours, and the voyage
was resumed in clearer weather on the following morning.
All day we threaded our way between islands and bergs. Seals and penguins
swam around, the latter squawking and diving in a most amusing manner.
Cautiously we glided by an iceberg, at least one hundred and fifty feet
high, rising with a faceted, perpendicular face chased with soft, snowy
traceries and ornamented with stalactites. Splits and rents broke into the
margin, and from each streamed the evanescent, azure vapour. Each puncture
and tiny grotto was filled with it, and a sloping cap of shimmering snow
spread over the summit. The profile-view was an exact replica of a battleship,
grounded astern. The bold contour of the bow was perfect, and the massive
flank had
been torn and shattered by shell-fire in a desperate naval battle. This
berg had heeled over considerably, and the original water-line ran as a
definite rim, thirty feet above the green water. From this rim shelved down
a smooth and polished base, marked with fine vertical striae.
Soundings varied from twenty to two hundred fathoms, and, accordingly, the
navigation was particularly anxious work.
Extending along about fifteen miles of coast, where the inland ice came
down steeply to the sea, was a marginal belt of sea, about two or three
miles in width, thickly strewn with rocky islets. Of these some were flat
and others peaked, but all were thickly populated by penguins, petrels and
seals. The rocks appeared all to be gneisses and schists.
Later that night we lay off a possible landing-place for one of our bases,
but, on more closely inspecting it in the morning, we decided to proceed
farther west into a wide sweeping bay which opened ahead. About fifty miles
ahead, on the far side of Commonwealth Bay, as we named it, was a cape which
roughly represented in position Cape Decouverte, the most easterly extension
of Adelie Land seen by D'Urville in 1840. Though Commonwealth Bay and the
land already seen had never before been sighted, all was placed under the
territorial name of Adelie Land.
The land was so overwhelmed with ice that, even at sea-level, the rock was
all but entirely hidden. Here was an ice age in all earnestness; a picture
of Northern Europe during the Great Ice Age some fifty thousand years ago.
It was evident that the glaciation of Adelie Land was much more severe than
that in higher Antarctic latitudes, as exampled on the borders of the Ross
Sea; the arena of Scott's, Shackleton's and other expeditions. The temperature
could not be colder, so we were led to surmise that the snowfall must be
excessive. The full truth was to be ascertained by bitter experience, after
spending a year on the spot.
I had hoped to find the Antarctic continent in these latitudes bounded by
a rocky and attractive coast like that in the vicinity of Cape Adare; the
nearest well-explored region. It had proved otherwise, only too well endorsing
the scanty information supplied by D'Urville and Wilkes of the coastline
seen by them. A glance at the austere plateau and the ice-fettered coast
was evidence of a rigid, inhospitable climate. It was apparent, too, that
only a short summer could be expected in these latitudes, thus placing limitations
upon our operations.
If three bases were to be landed it was important that they should be spread
at sufficiently wide intervals. If one were placed in Adelie Land, the ship
would probably have to break through the pack in establishing each of the
other two bases. Judging by our previous experience there was no certain
prospect of this being effected. The successful landing of three bases in
suitable positions, sufficiently far apart for advantageous co-operation
in geographical, meteorological and other observations, had now become problematical.
In addition, one of the parties was not as strong as I would have liked,
considering what would be undoubtedly its strenuous future.
For some days the various phases of the situation had occupied my mind,
and I now determined to risk two bases, combining the smallest of the three
parties with the Main Base. Alterations in the personnel of the third party
were also made, by which the Main Base would be increased in strength for
scientific work, and the other party under the leadership of Wild would
be composed of men of specially good sledging calibre, besides being representative
of the leading branches of our scientific programme.
We had a splendid lot of men, and I had no difficulty in choosing for Wild
seven companions who could be relied upon to give a good account of themselves.
It was only by assuring myself of their high efficiency that I could expect
to rest from undue anxiety throughout the year of our separation. The composition
of the two parties was as follows:
Main Base:
R. Bage, F. H. Bickerton, J. H. Close, P. E. Correll, W. H. Hannam, A. J.
Hodgeman, J. G. Hunter, J. F. Hurley, C. F. Laseron, C. T. Madigan, A. L.
McLean, X. Mertz, H. D. Murphy, B. E. S. Ninnis, F. L. Stillwell, E. N.
Webb, L. H. Whetter and myself.
Western Party:
G. Dovers, C. T. Harrisson, C. A. Hoadley, S. E. Jones, A. L. Kennedy, M.
H. Moyes, A. D. Watson, and F. Wild (leader).
I was now anxious to find a suitable location for our Main Base; two reasons
making it an urgent matter. The first was, that as we advanced to the west
we were leaving the South Magnetic Pole, and I was anxious to have our magnetographs
running as near the latter as possible. Secondly, we would be daily increasing
our distance from Macquarie Island, making wireless communication more uncertain.
At noon on January 8, while I was weighing the pros and
cons with Captain Davis, Wild came in to say that there was a rocky exposure
about fifteen miles off on the port side, and suggested altering our course
to obtain a better view of it.
Just after 4 P.M., when the ship was about one mile from the nearest rocks,
the whale-boat was lowered and manned. We rowed in with the object of making
a closer investigation. From the ship's deck, even when within a mile, the
outcrop had appeared to project directly from under the inland ice-sheet.
Now, however, we were surprised to find ourselves amongst an archipelago
of islets. These were named the Mackellar Islets, in remembrance of one
who had proved a staunch friend of the Expedition.
Weddell seals and Adelie penguins in thousands rested upon the rocks; the
latter chiefly congregated upon a long, low, bare islet situated in the
centre. This was the largest of the group, measuring about half a mile in
length; others were not above twenty yards in diameter. As we came inshore,
the main body of the archipelago was found to be separated by a mile and
a half from the mainland. A point which struck us at the time was that the
islets situated on the southern side of the group were capped by unique
masses of ice; resembling iced cakes. Later we were able to see them in
process of formation. In the violent southerly hurricanes prevalent in Adelie
Land, the spray breaks right over them. Part of it is deposited and frozen,
and by increments the icing of these monstrous ``cakes'' is built up. The
amount contributed in winter makes up for loss by thawing in midsummer.
As the islets to windward shelter those in their lee, the latter are destitute
of these natural canopies.
Soundings were taken at frequent intervals with a hand lead-line, manipulated
by Madigan. The water was on the whole shallow, varying from a few to twenty
fathoms. The bottom was clothed by dense, luxuriant seaweed. This rank growth
along the littoral was unexpected, for nothing of the kind exists on the
Ross Sea coasts within five or six fathoms of the surface.
Advancing towards the mainland, we observed a small islet amongst the rocks,
and towards it the boat was directed. We were soon inside a beautiful, miniature
harbour completely land-locked. The sun shone gloriously in a blue sky as
we stepped ashore on a charming ice-quay-- the first to set foot on the
Antarctic continent between Cape Adare and Gaussberg, a distance of one
thousand eight hundred miles.
Wild and I proceeded to make a tour of exploration. The rocky area at Cape
Denison, as it was named, was found to be about one mile in length and half
a mile in extreme width. Behind it rose the inland ice, ascending in a regular
slope and apparently free of crevasses-- an outlet for our sledging parties
in the event of the sea not firmly freezing over. To right and left of this
oasis, as the visitor to Adelie Land must regard the welcome rock, the ice
was heavily crevassed and fell sheer to the sea in cliffs, sixty to one
hundred and fifty feet in height. Two small dark patches in the distance
were the only evidences of rock to relieve the white monotony of the coast.
In landing cargo on Antarctic shores, advantage is generally taken of the
floe-ice on to which the materials can be unloaded and at once sledged away
to their destination. Here, on the other hand, there was open water, too
shallow for the `Aurora' to be moored alongside the ice-foot. The only alternative
was to anchor the ship at a distance and discharge the cargo by boats running
to the ideal harbour we had discovered. Close to the boat harbour was suitable
ground for the erection of a hut, so that the various impedimenta would
have to be carried only a short distance. For supplies of fresh meat, in
the emergency of being marooned for a number of years, there were many Weddell
seals at hand, and on almost all the neighbouring ridges colonies of penguins
were busy rearing their young.
As a station for scientific investigations, it offered a wider field than
the casual observer would have imagined. So it came about that the Main
Base was finally settled at Cape Denison, Commonwealth Bay.
We arrived on board at 8 P.M., taking a seal as food for
the dogs. Without delay, the motor-launch was dropped into the water, and
both it and the whale-boat loaded with frozen carcasses of mutton, cases
of
eggs and other perishable goods.
While some of us went ashore in the motor-launch, with the whale-boat in
tow, the `Aurora' steamed round the Mackellar Islets seeking for a good
anchorage under the icy barrier, immediately to the west of the boat harbour.
The day had been perfect, vibrant with summer and life, but towards evening
a chill breeze sprang up, and we in the motor-launch had to beat against
it. By the time we had reached the head of the harbour, Hoadley had several
fingers frost-bitten and all were feeling the cold, for we were wearing
light garments in anticipation of fine weather. The wind strengthened every
minute, and showers of fine snow were soon whistling down the glacier. No
time was lost in landing the cargo, and, with a rising blizzard at our backs,
we drove out to meet the `Aurora'. On reaching the ship a small gale was
blowing and our boats were taken in tow.
The first thing to be considered was the mooring of the `Aurora' under the
lee of the ice-wall, so as to give us an opportunity of getting the boats
aboard. In the meantime they were passed astern, each manned by several
hands to keep them bailed out; the rest of us having scrambled up the side.
Bringing the ship to anchor in such a wind in uncharted, shoal water was
difficult to do in a cool and methodical manner. The sounding machine was
kept running with rather dramatic results; depths jumping from five to thirty
fathoms in the ship's length, and back again to the original figure in the
same distance. A feeling of relief passed round when, after much manceuvring,
the anchor was successfully bedded five hundred yards from the face of the
cliff.
Just at this time the motor-launch broke adrift. Away it swept before a
wind of forty-five miles per hour. On account of the cold, and because the
engine was drenched with sea-water, some difficulty was found in starting
the motor. From the ship's deck we could see Bickerton busily engaged with
it. The rudder had been unshipped, and there was no chance of replacing
it, for the boat was bobbing about on the waves in a most extraordinary
manner. However, Whetter managed to make a jury-rudder which served the
purpose, while Hunter, the other occupant, was kept laboriously active with
the pump.
They had drifted half a mile, and were approaching the rocks of an islet
on which the sea was breaking heavily. Just as every one was becoming very
apprehensive, the launch began to forge ahead, and the men had soon escaped
from their dangerous predicament. By the united efforts of all hands the
boats were hoisted on board and everything was made as ``snug'' as possible.
The wind steadily increased, and it seemed impossible for the anchor to
hold. The strain on the cable straightened out a steel hook two inches in
diameter. This caused some embarrassment, as the hook was part of the cable
attachment under the fo'c'sle-head. It is remarkable, however, that after
this was adjusted the ship did not lose her position up to the time of departure
from Adelie Land.
Though we were so close under the shelter of a lofty wall, the waves around
us were at least four feet in height and when the wind increased to sixty-five
and seventy miles per hour, their crests were cut off and the surface was
hidden by a sheet of racing spindrift.
Everything was securely lashed in readiness for going to sea, in case the
cable should part. Final arrangements were then made to discharge the cargo
quickly as soon as the wind moderated.
Two days had elapsed before the wind showed any signs of abatement. It was
8 P.M. on January 10 when the first boat ventured off with a small cargo,
but it was not till the following morning that a serious start was made.
In good weather, every trip between the ship and the boat harbour, a distance
of a mile, meant that five or six tons had been landed. It was usual for
the loaded launch to tow both whale-boats heavily laden and, in addition,
a raft of hut timbers or wireless masts. Some of the sailors, while engaged
in building rafts alongside the ship, were capsized into the water and after
that the occupation was not a popular one.
Ashore, Wild had rigged a derrick, using for its construction two of the
wireless royal masts. It was thus possible to cope with the heavier packages
at the landing-place. Of the last-named the air-tractor sledge was by far
the most troublesome. With plenty of manual labour, under Wild's skilful
direction, this heavy machine was hoisted from the motor-launch, and then
carefully swung on to the solid ice-foot.
Captain Davis superintended the discharging operations on the ship, effected
by the crew and some of the land party under the direction of the ship's
officers. Wild supervised conveyance ashore, and the landing, classification,
and safe storage of the various boat-loads. Gillies and Bickerton took alternate
shifts in driving the motor- launch. The launch proved invaluable, and we
were very glad that it had been included in the equipment, for it did a
remarkable amount of work in a minimum of time.
In view of the difficulty of embarking the boats, if another hurricane should
arise, tents were erected ashore, so that a party could remain there with
the boats moored in a sheltered harbour.
Everything went well until just before midnight on January 12, when the
wind again swept down. Wild, four of the men and I were forced to remain
ashore. We spent the time constructing a temporary hut of benzine cases,
roofed with planks; the walls of which were made massive to resist the winds.
This structure was henceforth known as the ``Benzine Hut'.
The barometer dropped to 28.5 inches and the wind remained high. We were
struck with the singular fact that, even in the height of some of these
hurricanes, the sky remained serene and the sun shone brightly. It had been
very different when the ship was amongst the pack a few miles to the north,
for, there, cloudy and foggy conditions had been the rule. The wind coming
to us from the south was dry; obviously an argument for the continental
extension of the land in that direction.
At 2 A.M. on January 15 a pre-arranged whistle was sounded from the `Aurora',
advising those of us ashore that the sea had moderated sufficiently to continue
unloading. Wild sped away in the launch, but before he had reached the ship
the wind renewed its activity. At last, after 2 P.M. on the same day it
ceased, and we were able to carry on work until midnight, when the wind
descended on us once more. This time, eighteen men remained ashore. After
twelve hours there was another lull, and unloading was then continued with
only a few intermissions from 1 P.M. on January 16 until the afternoon of
January 19.
Never was landing so hampered by adverse conditions, and yet, thanks to
the assiduous application of all, a great assortment of materials was safely
embarked. Comprised among them were the following: twenty-three tons of
coal briquettes, two complete living-huts, a magnetic observatory, the whole
of the wireless equipment, including masts, and more than two thousand packages
of general supplies containing sufficient food for two years, utensils,
instruments, benzine, kerosene, lubricating oils an air-tractor and other
sledges.
Then came the time for parting. There was a great field before Wild's party
to the west, and it was important that they should be able to make the most
of the remainder of the season. My great regret was that I could not be
with them. I knew that I had men of experience and ability in Davis and
Wild, and felt that the work entrusted to them was in the best of hands.
Through the medium of wireless telegraphy I hoped to keep in touch with
the Macquarie Island party, the Western Base,** and the ship itself, when
in Australian waters.
** They were supplied with masts and a receiving set sufficiently sensitive
to pick up messages from a distance of fivc or six hundred miles.
It was my idea that Wild's party should proceed west and attempt to effect
a landing and establish a western wintering station at some place not less
than four hundred miles west of Adelie Land. On the way, whenever opportunity
presented itself, they were to cache provisions at intervals along the coast
in places liable to be visited by sledging parties.
The location of such caches and of the Western Base, it was hoped, would
be communicated to us at the Main Base, through the medium of wireless telegraphy
from Hobart.
All members of the land parties and the ship's officers met in the ward-room.
There were mutual good wishes expressed all round, and then we celebrated
previous Antarctic explorers, more especially D'Urville and Wilkes. The
toast was drunk in excellent Madeira presented to us by Mr. J. T. Buchanan,
who had carried this sample round the world with him when a member of the
celebrated `Challenger' expedition.
The motor-launch was hoisted and the anchor raised. Then at 8.45 P.M. on
January 19 we clambered over the side into one of the whale-boats and pushed
off for Cape Denison, shouting farewells back to the `Aurora'. Several hours
later she had disappeared below the north-western horizon, and we had set
to work to carve out a home in Adelie Land.
CHAPTER IV - NEW
LANDS
