The Worst Journey in the World (13 page)

From this may be explained many of the reports of continual bad weather
met by sailing ships and steamers in these latitudes. If we had been a
sailing ship without auxiliary steam the cyclone would have caught us up,
and we should have been travelling with it, and consequently in continual
bad weather. On the other hand, a steamer pure and simple would have
steamed through good and bad alike. But we, with our auxiliary steam,
only made much the same headway as the disturbance travelling in our
wake, and so remained in the anticyclone.

Physical observations were made on the outward voyage by Simpson and
Wright
^[33]
into the atmospheric electricity over the ocean, one set of
which consisted of an inquiry into the potential gradient, and
observations were undertaken at Melbourne for the determination of the
absolute value of the potential gradient over the sea.
^[34]
Numerous
observations were also made on the radium content of the atmosphere over
the ocean, to be compared afterwards with observations in the Antarctic
air. The variations in radium content were not large. Results were also
obtained on the voyage of the Terra Nova to New Zealand upon the subject
of natural ionization in closed vessels.

In addition to the work of the ship and the physical work above
mentioned, work in vertebrate zoology, marine biology and magnetism,
together with four-hourly observations of the salinity and temperature of
the sea, was carried out during the whole voyage.

In vertebrate zoology Wilson kept an accurate record of birds, and he and
Lillie another record of whales and dolphins. All the birds which could
be caught, both at sea and on South Trinidad Island, were skinned and
made up into museum specimens. They were also examined for external and
internal parasites by Wilson, Atkinson and myself, as were also such fish
and other animals as could be caught, including flying fish, a shark, and
last but not least, whales in New Zealand.

The method of catching these birds may be worth describing. A bent nail
was tied to a line, the other end of which was made fast to the halyards
over the stern. Sufficient length of line was allowed either to cause the
nail to just trail in the sea in the wake of the ship or for the line to
just clear the sea. Thus when the halyard was hoisted to some thirty or
forty feet above the deck, the line would be covering a considerable
distance of sea.

The birds flying round the ship congregate for the main part in the wake,
for here they find the scraps thrown overboard on which they feed. I have
seen six albatross all together trying to eat up an empty treacle tin.

As they fly to and fro their wings are liable to touch the line which is
spread out over the sea. Sometimes they will hit the line with the tips
of their wings, and then there is no resulting capture, but sooner or
later a bird will touch the line with the part of the wing above the
elbow-joint (humerus). It seems that on feeling the contact the bird
suddenly wheels in the air, thereby causing a loop in the line which
tightens round the bone. At any rate the next thing that happens is that
the bird is struggling on the line and may be hauled on board.

The difficulty is to get a line which is light enough to fly in the air,
but yet strong enough to hold the large birds, such as albatross, without
breaking. We tried fishing line with no success, but eventually managed
to buy some 5-ply extra strong cobbler's thread, which is excellent for
the purpose. But we wanted not only specimens, but also observations of
the species, the numbers which appeared, and their habits, for little is
known as yet of these sea birds. And so we enlisted the help of all who
were interested, and it may be said that all the officers and many of the
seamen had a hand in producing the log of sea birds, to which additions
were made almost hourly throughout the daylight hours. Most officers and
men knew the more common sea birds in the open ocean, and certainly of
those in the pack and fringes of the Antarctic continent, which, with
rare exceptions, is the southern limit of bird life.

A number of observations of whales, illustrated by Wilson, were made, but
the results so far as the seas from England to the Cape and New Zealand
are concerned, are not of great importance, partly because close views
were seldom obtained, and partly because the whales inhabiting these seas
are fairly well known. On October 3, 1910, in latitude 42° 17' S. and
longitude 111° 18' E., two adults of Balaenoptera borealis (Northern
Rorqual) were following the ship close under the counter, length 50 feet,
with a light-coloured calf some 18-20 feet long swimming with them. It
was established by this and by a later observation in New Zealand, when
Lillie helped to cut up a similar whale at the Norwegian Whaling Station
at the Bay of Islands, that this Rorqual which frequents the
sub-Antarctic seas is identical with our Northern Rorqual;
^[35]
but this
was the only close observation of any whales obtained before we left New
Zealand.

General information with regard to such animals is useful, however, as
showing the relative abundance of plankton on which the whales feed in
the ocean. There are, for instance, more whales in the Antarctic than in
warmer seas; and some whales at any rate (e.g. Humpback whales) probably
come north into warmer waters in the winter rather for breeding purposes
than to get food.
^[36]

With regard to dolphins four species were observed beyond question. The
rarest dolphin seen was Tersio peronii, the peculiarity of which is that
it has no dorsal fin. This was seen on October 20, 1910, in latitude 42°
51' S. and longitude 153° 56' E.

Reports of whales and dolphins which are not based upon carcases and
skeletons must be accepted with caution. It is most difficult to place
species with scientific accuracy which can only be observed swimming in
the water, and of which more often than not only blows and the dorsal
fins can be observed. The nomenclature of dolphins especially leaves much
to be desired, and it is to be hoped that some expedition in the future
will carry a Norwegian harpooner, who could do other work as well since
they are very good sailors. Wilson was strongly of this opinion and tried
hard to get a harpooner, but they are expensive people so long as the
present boom in whaling lasts, and perhaps it was on the score of expense
that the idea was regretfully abandoned. We carried whaling gear formerly
taken on the Discovery Expedition, and kindly lent for this expedition by
the Royal Geographical Society of London. A few shots were tried, but an
unskilled harpooner stands very little chance. If you go whaling you must
have had experience.

The ship was not slowed down to enable marine biological observations to
be taken on this part of the expedition, but something like forty samples
of plankton were taken with a full-speed net. We were unable to trawl on
the bottom until we reached Melbourne, when a trawl was made in Port
Phillip Harbour to try the gear and accustom men to its use. It was not a
purpose of the expedition to spend time in deep-sea work until it reached
Antarctic seas.

For four days the wind, such as there was of it, was dead ahead; it is
not very often in the Forties that a ship cannot make progress for want
of wind. But having set all plain sail on October 2 with a falling glass
we got a certain amount of wind on the port beam, and did 158 miles in
the next twenty-four hours. Sunday being quiet Scott read service while
the officers and men grouped round the wheel. We seldom had service on
deck; for Sundays became proverbial days for a blow on the way out, and
service, if held at all, was generally in the ward-room. On one famous
occasion we tried to play the pianola to accompany the hymns, but, since
the rolls were scored rather for musical effect than for church services,
the pianola was suddenly found to be playing something quite different
from what was being sung. All through the expedition the want of some one
who could play the piano was felt, and such a man is certainly a great
asset in a life so far removed from all the pleasures of civilization.
As Scott wrote in The Voyage of the Discovery, where one of the officers
used to play each evening: "This hour of music has become an institution
which none of us would willingly forgo. I don't know what thoughts it
brings to others, though I can readily guess; but of such things one does
not care to write. I can well believe, however, that our music smooths
over many a ruffle and brings us to dinner each night in that excellent
humour, where all seem good-tempered, though 'cleared for action' and
ready for fresh argument."

The wind freshened to our joy; Scott was impatient; there was much to be
done and the time for doing it was not too long, for it had been decided
to leave New Zealand at an earlier date than had been attempted by any
previous expedition, in order to penetrate the pack sooner and make an
early start on the depôt journey. The faintest glow of the Aurora
Australis which was to become so familiar to us was seen at this time,
but what aroused still more interest was the capture of several albatross
on the lines flowing out over the stern.

The first was a 'sooty' (cornicoides). We put him down on the deck, where
he strutted about in the proudest way, his feet going flop—flop—flop as
he walked. He was a most beautiful bird, sooty black body, a great black
head with a line of white over each eye and a gorgeous violet line
running along his black beak. He treated us with the greatest contempt,
which, from such a beautiful creature, we had every appearance of
deserving. Another day a little later we caught a wandering albatross, a
black-browed albatross, and a sooty albatross all together, and set them
on the deck tethered to the ventilators while their photographs were
taken. They were such beautiful birds that we were loath to kill them,
but their value as scientific specimens outweighed the wish to set them
free, and we gave them ether so that they did not suffer.

The Southern Ocean is the home of these and many species of birds, but
among them the albatross is pre-eminent. It has been mentioned that
Wilson believed that the albatross, at any rate, fly round and round the
world over these stormy seas before the westerly winds, landing but once
a year on such islands as Kerguelen, St. Paul, the Auckland Islands and
others to breed. If so, the rest that they can obtain upon the big
breaking rollers which prevail in these latitudes must be unsatisfactory
judged by the standard of more civilized birds. I have watched sea birds
elsewhere of which the same individuals appeared to follow the ship day
after day for many thousands of miles, but on this voyage I came to the
conclusion that a different set of birds appeared each morning, and that
they were hungry when they arrived. Certainly they flew astern and nearer
to the ship in the morning, feeding on the scraps thrown overboard. As
the day went on and the birds' hunger was satisfied, they scattered, and
such of them as continued to fly astern of the ship were a long way off.
Hence we caught the birds in the early morning, and only one bird was
caught after mid-day.

The wind continued favourable and was soon blowing quite hard. On Friday,
October 7, we were doing 7.8 knots under sail alone, which was very good
for the old Terra Push, as she was familiarly called: and we were then
just 1000 miles from Melbourne. By Saturday night we were standing by
topgallant halyards. Campbell took over the watch at 4 A.M. on Sunday
morning. It was blowing hard and squally, but the ship still carried
topgallants. There was a big following sea.

At 6.30 A.M. there occurred one of those incidents of sea life which are
interesting though not important. Quite suddenly the first really big
squall we had experienced on the voyage struck us. Topgallant halyards
were let go, and the fore topgallant yard came down, but the main
topgallant yard jammed when only half down. It transpired afterwards that
a gasket which had been blown over the yard had fouled the block of the
sheet of the main upper topsail. The topgallant yard was all tilted to
starboard and swaying from side to side, the sail seemed as though it
might blow out at any moment, and was making a noise like big guns, and
the mast was shaking badly.

It was expected that the topgallant mast would go, but nothing could be
done while the full fury of the wind lasted. Campbell paced quietly up
and down the bridge with a smile on his face. The watch was grouped round
the ratlines ready to go aloft, and Crean volunteered to go up alone and
try and free the yard, but permission was refused. It was touch and go
with the mast and there was nothing to be done.

The squall passed, the sail was freed and furled, and the next big squall
found us ready to lower upper topsails and all was well. Finally the
damage was a split sail and a strained mast.

The next morning a new topgallant sail was bent, but quite the biggest
hailstorm I have ever seen came on in the middle of the operation. Much
of the hail must have been inches in circumference, and hurt even through
thick clothes and oilskins. At the same time there were several
waterspouts formed. The men on the topgallant yard had a beastly time.
Below on deck men made hail-balls and pretended they were snow.

From now onwards we ran on our course before a gale. By the early morning
of October 12 Cape Otway light was in sight. Working double tides in the
engine-room, and with every stitch of sail set, we just failed to reach
Port Phillip Heads by mid-day, when the tide turned, and it was
impossible to get through. We went up Melbourne Harbour that evening,
very dark and blowing hard.

A telegram was waiting for Scott:

"Madeira. Am going South. AMUNDSEN."

This telegram was dramatically important, as will appear when we come to
the last act of the tragedy. Captain Roald Amundsen was one of the most
notable of living explorers, and was in the prime of life—forty-one, two
years younger than Scott. He had been in the Antarctic before Scott, with
the Belgica Expedition in 1897-99, and therefore did not consider the
South Pole in any sense our property. Since then he had realized the
dream of centuries of exploration by passing through the North-West
Passage, and actually doing so in a 60-ton schooner in 1905. The last we
had heard of him was that he had equipped Nansen's old ship, the Fram,
for further exploration in the Arctic. This was only a feint. Once at
sea, he had told his men that he was going south instead of north; and
when he reached Madeira he sent this brief telegram, which meant, "I
shall be at the South Pole before you." It also meant, though we did not
appreciate it at the time, that we were up against a very big man.