James F. (Frank)
Leonard D. A.
Macklin, Dr. Alexander H.
Dr. James A.
Motor Expert and Storekeeper
Shackleton, Ernest H.
Second in Command
served in the merchant navy and joined the Endurance
just 24 hours before it left Plymouth, England. The
original first officer had resigned in order to join
the war effort (1st world war).
Lionel heard of the
vacancy of First Officer on the Endurance from a friend
while in Scotland, and wrote to Frank Worsley, the Captain
of the Endurance in this regard. Worsley invited him
to Plymouth where the Endurance was at the time and
Greenstreet went for what he assumed was to be an interview
for the position. On arrival, he was told the job was
his and he should go to get his kit, he arrived back
just half an hour before the ship sailed.
Lionel, was one of
three children, his father, Herbert E. Greenstreet was
a Master Mariner in the Merchant Navy, and a Captain
for The New Zealand Shipping Company.
At around 15 years
old, Lionel became a cadet on the "Worcester",
a training ship. He passed out in 1904 with certificates
in Navigation (first class) and Seamanship (first class
extra). He served mainly sailing ships from this time
until joining the Endurance.
After the Endurance
expedition, Lionel married Mille Baddeley Muir on 26th
September 1917 at Christchurch, Sutton in Surrey. He
served as 2nd Lieutenant in the Royal Engineers in charge
of various craft during the war. Afterwards he worked
as a Technical Officer at Richborough, Kent, dealing
with Continental Cross Channel Tug Services and Train
Ferries. He was also a Berthing Master and Assistant
Marine Superintendent. By 1920 he was working as a marine
In March 1940 Greenstreet
had joined the Royal Naval Reserve as a Temporary Lieutenant,
he was 50 years old by the time the war broke out, he
served on rescue Tugs in the Atlantic and North Sea.
After the war he returned to his insurance post and
eventually negotiated early retirement when he went
to live in the seaside town of Brixham, in Devon.
He married for the
second time on the 18th of October 1955, having been
a widower for some years. He never had any children
by either marriage, but was a popular uncle to a number
of nephews and nieces.
There were many reunions
and Naval Functions over the years. Along with Green
and How, he attended the commissioning of the Royal
Navy ship, H.M.S. Endurance at Portsmouth in October
1970, named after Shackleton's Endurance.
Lionel Greenstreet died on 13th January 1979, the
last of the Endurance party. He was cremated at Worthing
on a cold winters day with an appropriate scattering
of snow on the ground for the last of the Endurance
heroes. is ashes were scattered in the grounds of the
Norwich Crematorium and a tree planted in his name.
to Lionel Greenstreet in Shackleton's book "South!"
Nine p.m. that night, the 27th,
saw us on the march again. The first 200 yds. took
us about five hours to cross, owing to the amount
of breaking down of pressure-ridges and filling
in of leads that was required. The surface, too,
was now very soft, so our progress was slow and
tiring. We managed to get another three-quarters
of a mile before lunch, and a further mile due west
over a very hummocky floe before we camped at 5.30
and Macklin killed and brought in a huge Weddell
seal weighing about 800 lbs., and two emperor penguins
made a welcome addition to our larder.
The scientists wished
to inspect some of the neighbouring bergs at close
quarters, but sledge travelling outside the well-trodden
area immediately around the ship proved difficult
and occasionally dangerous. On August 20, for example,
Worsley, Hurley, and Greenstreet
started off for the Rampart Berg and got on to a
lead of young ice that undulated perilously beneath
their feet. A quick turn saved them.
I will quote Worsley's
own account of what happened to the Dudley Docker:
"About midnight we lost sight of the
James Caird with the Stancomb Wills in tow, but
not long after saw the light of the James Caird's
compass-lamp, which Sir Ernest was flashing on their
sail as a guide to us. We answered by lighting our
candle under the tent and letting the light shine
through. At the same time we got the direction of
the wind and how we were hauling from my little
pocket-compass, the boat's compass being smashed.
With this candle our poor fellows lit their pipes,
their only solace, as our raging thirst prevented
us from eating anything. By this time we had got
into a bad tide-rip, which, combined with the heavy,
lumpy sea, made it almost impossible to keep the
Dudley Docker from swamping. As it was we shipped
several bad seas over the stern as well as abeam
and over the bows, although we were ‘on a wind.'
Lees, who owned himself to be a rotten oarsman,
made good here by strenuous baling, in which he
was well seconded by Cheetham.
splendid fellow, relieved me at the tiller and helped
generally. He and Macklin were my right and left
bowers as stroke-oars throughout. McLeod and Cheetham
were two good sailors and oars, the former a typical
old deep-sea salt and growler, the latter a pirate
to his finger-tips. In the height of the gale that
night Cheetham was buying matches from me for bottles
of champagne, one bottle per match (too cheap; I
should have charged him two bottles). The champagne
is to be paid when he opens his pub in Hull and
I am able to call that way. . . . We had now had
one hundred and eight hours of toil, tumbling, freezing,
and soaking, with little or no sleep. I think Sir
Ernest, Wild, Greenstreet,
and I could say that we had no sleep at all. Although
it was sixteen months since we had been in a rough
sea, only four men were actually seasick, but several
others were off colour.
"The temperature was 20°
below freezing-point; fortunately, we were spared
the bitterly low temperature of the previous night.
right foot got badly frost-bitten, but Lees restored
it by holding it in his sweater against his stomach.
Other men had minor frost-bites, due principally
to the fact that their clothes were soaked through
with salt water. . . . We were close to the land
as the morning approached, but could see nothing
of it through the snow and spindrift. My eyes began
to fail me. Constant peering to windward, watching
for seas to strike us, appeared to have given me
a cold in the eyes. I could not see or judge distance
properly, and found myself falling asleep momentarily
at the tiller. At 3 a.m.
Greenstreet relieved me
there. I was so cramped from long hours, cold, and
wet, in the constrained position one was forced
to assume on top of the gear and stores at the tiller,
that the other men had to pull me amidships and
straighten me out like a jack-knife, first rubbing
my thighs, groin, and stomach.
A strong south-westerly wind
was blowing on October 20 and the pack was working.
The Endurance was imprisoned securely in the pool,
but our chance might come at any time. Watches were
set so as to be ready for working ship. Wild and
and Cheetham, Worsley and Crean, took the deck watches,
and the Chief Engineer and Second Engineer kept
watch and watch with three of the A.B.'s for
stokers. The staff and the forward hands, with the
exception of the cook, the carpenter and his mate,
were on "watch and watch"—that is, four
hours on deck and four hours below, or off duty.
The main or hand pump was frozen
up and could not be used at once. After it had been
knocked out Worsley, Greenstreet,
and Hudson went down in the bunkers and cleared
the ice from the bilges. "This is not a pleasant
job," wrote Worsley. "We have to dig a
hole down through the coal while the beams and timbers
groan and crack all around us like pistol-shots.
The darkness is almost complete, and we mess about
in the wet with half-frozen hands and try to keep
the coal from slipping back into the bilges. The
men on deck pour buckets of boiling water from the
galley down the pipe as we prod and hammer from
below, and at last we get the pump clear, cover
up the bilges to keep the coal out, and rush on
deck, very thankful to find ourselves safe again
in the open air."
A pioneer party with picks
and shovels had to build a snow-causeway before
we could get all our possessions across. By 8 p.m.
the camp had been pitched again. We had two pole-tents
and three hoop-tents. I took charge of the small
pole-tent, No. 1, with Hudson, Hurley, and James
as companions; Wild had the small hoop-tent, No.
2, with Wordie, McNeish, and McIlroy. These hoop-tents
are very easily shifted and set up. The eight forward
hands had the large hoop-tent, No. 3; Crean had
charge of No. 4 hoop-tent with Hussey, Marston,
and Cheetham; and Worsley had the other pole-tent,
No. 5, with Greenstreet,
Lees, Clark, Kerr, Rickenson, Macklin, and Blackborow,
the last named being the youngest of the forward
afternoon Sallie's three youngest pups, Sue's
Sirius, and Mrs. Chippy, the carpenter's cat,
have to be shot. We could not undertake the maintenance
of weaklings under the new conditions. Macklin,
Crean, and the carpenter seemed to feel the loss
of their friends rather badly. We propose making
a short trial journey to-morrow, starting with two
of the boats and the ten sledges. The number of
dog teams has been increased to seven,
charge of the new additional team, consisting of
Snapper and Sallie's four oldest pups. We have
ten working sledges to relay with five teams. Wild's
and Hurley's teams will haul the cutter with
the assistance of four men. The whaler and the other
boats will follow, and the men who are hauling them
will be able to help with the cutter at the rough
places. We cannot hope to make rapid progress, but
each mile counts. Crean this afternoon has a bad
attack of snow-blindness."