必然 涵 世界与 系模 的 史和基本理 探究 1st Edition 周 祥

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with considerable force against the lee rail. He was much bruised
and shaken.

During the day a number of soundings were taken with the

Kelvin apparatus, but no bottom was found with 300 fathoms of
wire.

In the evening Worsley altered course to look at what appeared

to be a small half-submerged rock, but on approach it proved to be a
heavily stained piece of ice.

January 20th was another fine day. I saw Marr come on deck
wearing a fur cap, heavy sea-boots, and a belt from which hung a
ferocious-looking sheath knife. The scrubby promise of a thick beard
adorned his chin, and I had the greatest difficulty in associating the
kilted boy who joined us in London with this tough-looking sailor
man. If Hussey had been there he would have sung, “If only my
mother could see me now!” Indeed, I would have liked to have had
for a short while the use of a magic carpet and been able to transfer
him exactly as he stood to the bosom of his family.

Jeffrey, who had been confined to his cabin since leaving Rio de
Janeiro, returned to duty on this day.

We continued to pass through a sea filled with icebergs, which in

the sunshine stood out white and glistening against the blue-black of
the sea. Worsley saw what looked like a new island with high
summit, but even as he pointed it out a breeze flattened off its top,
proving it to be only a cloud. These little rebuffs on the part of
Nature have no influence upon Worsley, whose enthusiasm is
unconquerable.

In the afternoon we sighted a number of icebergs in line, and a

few minutes later Zavodovski Island showed up. The bergs were
evidently aground, most of them having a distinct tide-mark and
showing considerable wear along the water-line. As we drew nearer
we saw that all those which were accessible were thickly covered
with ringed penguins, which showed the most marked astonishment
at our approach. There were many also in the sea, and they came
swimming towards us, uttering their familiar “Cl-a-a-k!” Some of the
bergs were so steep that we wondered how the penguins ever
managed to get a footing on them. We passed one with a side which
sloped gradually to an edge some twenty or thirty feet above water,
against which the sea broke heavily. A number of penguins were
attempting a landing, and we watched their efforts with interest.
They took advantage of the swell to leap out whilst the sea was at
its highest, often to fail and fall back with a splash into the wash
below; but they sometimes succeeded in getting a footing in a crack
in the ice. They showed the greatest agility and skill in clambering
from one little foothold to another, and their attitude of triumph
when at last they gained the gentler slope and waddled off to join
their companions in the group was most amusing. These little
creatures are so absurdly human in every one of their aspects that
one could watch them for hours without tiring. Those of the party
who had not been previously in Antarctic regions were greatly
fascinated by them and laughed outright at their quaint antics.

The island takes its name from Lieut. Zavodovski, chief officer of
the Vostok, of Bellingshausen’s Expedition, who landed in 1820. It is
barren and snow covered, except on the western side, which
presents an unattractive bare surface of rock. Bellingshausen
described this bare surface as being warm from volcanic action, and
says that the penguins found it an attractive nesting-place. On that
occasion the island presented the appearance of an active volcano,
with thick clouds of steam belching from the summit. Owing to the
low-lying mist we could not see the top of the island, and so were
unable to gauge accurately the height, but from general contour it
seemed to be not more than 3,500 feet.
 Photo: Wilkins

A LOVELY EVENING IN THE SUB-

ANTARCTIC
 Photo: Wilkins

TOO MANY COOKS: OUR FIRST DEEP-SEA

SOUNDING

The coastline presents a rugged face of rock broken here and

there by glaciers which descend from the slopes behind to finish
abruptly above narrow beaches of black sand. A red line of volcanic
staining surrounds the island. Generally speaking it is inaccessible,
and there are no good bays or anchorages for a ship. There are
places where a landing could be effected by boat, but at no time
would it be easy, for the rock faces rise sheer from the sea and the
beaches are shut off from the island by the glaciers behind and
laterally by steep cliffs. Nevertheless, penguins are able to get
ashore. On the beaches were a number of the large and beautifully
marked king penguins, whilst covering the slopes behind were whole
battalions of the ringed variety, forming very large rookeries. I have
seen larger rookeries than these in one place only—Macquarie
Island, which I visited during the Mawson Expedition. There one can
look over square miles and never see a piece of ground for the
number of penguins of all varieties which collect there.

On the southern side of Zavodovski Island are a number of

caves, from the mouths of which sulphurous fumes were issuing in a
thin reddish cloud. We could feel their effects in a smarting
sensation of the eyes, nose and throat. It was noticed that the
penguins did not collect round the caves, but gave them a pretty
wide berth. Larsen, who explored this group in the Undine in 1908,
was overcome by these fumes whilst attempting to land on this
island, and became seriously ill.

We made a running survey of the island and obtained a number

of soundings. Before leaving I took the ship close to a berg which
was thickly covered with ringed penguins to enable Wilkins to get
some cinematograph pictures. To stimulate them into movement I
told Jeffrey to fire two or three detonators. The loud reports caused
the utmost consternation amongst them, and, stretching their
flippers, they rushed en masse for the lower edge of the berg. Those
in front were loth to take to the water, which is not surprising,
seeing the difficulty they have in climbing back again, but those
behind pressed them so hard that they were forced over into the
sea, and, as Kerr facetiously remarked, “It was just as well that they
could swim.” Their attitude of surprise and indignation was very
amusing.

We continued (Saturday, January 21st) to pass innumerable

bergs. The sea was literally filled with them. It is fortunate that in
these latitudes there is comparatively little darkness at this time of
the year, for at night these bergs form the most unpleasant of
companions and necessitate a continuous and unremitting look-out.
The long swell rushes against them with a heavy surge, and a
collision with any one of them would prove a nasty accident from
which we would not be likely to escape scot free, whilst the
dislodgment of a heavy portion on to our decks could have nothing
but the most disastrous results.

The Quest rolled like a log and the seas in the waist rushed like
a swollen flood from side to side, so that one rarely passed about
the ship without a wetting. The water foamed over the tops of our
sea boots and filled them up. This was particularly annoying when
going to take over the watch, for one had then to endure the
discomfort of four hours on the bridge with wet feet, which in this
temperature is extremely unpleasant.

Before leaving England Sir Ernest Shackleton had designed a

weather-proof bridge, completely enclosed, but with windows which
could be opened up on all sides. Owing to the strikes which occurred
before our start, skilled labour was not available, and the work done
in the building of it was so bad, and the windows and doors were so
ill-fitting, that it was quite impossible to exclude draughts. Except
that it was to some extent rain- and snow-proof, we would have
been much better off with an open bridge protected with a canvas
dodger. There was always a strong draught along the floor, which
made it very hard to keep the feet warm, no matter how well
clothed and shod we might be. When the footgear became wetted
the difficulty was increased, and in the long night watches we often
endured agonies from this cause.

Macklin reported to me on the 21st that there were fifteen

inches of water in the hold. The ship had always leaked, but hitherto
the engine-room pumps had been sufficient to keep down the water.
I instituted a daily pumping, which, as the hand pump was situated
in the waist amidst a rush of water, was no pleasant task for those
engaged in it.

I began to feel my responsibilities now, for each day made it

more abundantly clear to me that this trip was to be anything but a
picnic and demonstrated the fact that the Quest was by no means
an ideal ship for the work. Often I was made to doubt the wisdom of
the undertaking, but, having put my hand to the plough, there was
to be no turning back.

This being Saturday night, we drank the time-honoured toast of

“Sweethearts and Wives,” to which some wag always added, “May
they never meet!” On such occasions as these I issued to each man
who wanted it a tot of whisky or rum. Rum was generally selected,
as being the stronger drink.

On Monday, January 23rd, we passed close to two large and

beautiful bergs, full of cracks and chasms, with a number of caves of
the deepest blue colour. This appearance of blue in cavities
surrounded by colourless ice is a phenomenon for which physicists
have not yet offered a satisfactory explanation.

There is something about these huge bergs, bucking and

swaying in the long heavy swell, which always attracts. One wonders
at their age and where they have come from. It is a pity that there is
no way of marking them. Worsley, ever inventive, and never at a
loss for a suggestion, proposes firing into them bombs filled with
permanganate of potash, or, better still, to have rifles firing small
projectiles, by which one could mark the date. “Why not?” says he.

There is much difference of opinion regarding the length of life

of these bergs, some saying two or three years, whilst others
suggest that they last forty or more. Much undoubtedly depends
upon their movements. A grounded berg is likely to exist for a long
time, and I have seen many, marked by the rise and fall of tide and
washed by the action of the sea, which had obviously endured for
many years. Those which do not go aground drift about for varying
periods till carried eventually to the north; they meet their fate
amongst warm currents, which leave not a vestige of their original
selves. A berg floats with about seven-eighths of its bulk below
water, and is consequently more susceptible to deep than to surface
currents. I have often seen them moving through pack at a rate of
two or three miles an hour, brushing aside the lighter ice in their
undeviating progress. In open water, too, I have seen them moving
up against strong winds at a similar speed.

During our boat journey from the breaking-up pack on the

Endurance expedition we nearly came to grief from this cause, a
large berg of several hundred yards in length almost jamming us
against a line of floe ice, and requiring all our efforts to pull free.

Photo: Wilkins

THE WESTERN END OF ZAVODOVSKI

ISLAND, SHOWING GROUNDED ICEBERGS
 Photo: Wilkins

SENTINEL OF THE ANTARCTIC

Worsley met with a slight accident on the 23rd. While passing

round the front of the deck-house he was struck by the forestay-sail
sheet block, and was hurled across the deck. He picked himself up,
with blood running freely down his face, but the intensity of his
imprecations relieved me from fear of a bad injury, and, indeed, on
examination it proved to be slight. He felt a little hurt when someone
asked him if he could not do it again because there were several
who had missed the incident. I omit his reply.

Our daily mileage had proved disappointing up to this point, and

it became clear to me that we could not hope to reach Bouvet Island
and still be in time to enter the ice this year. The coal consumption
also proved higher than I had anticipated. I decided, therefore, to
make a more southerly course to meet and enter the ice in a
position somewhere about 20° E. Long. On my westward run I
intended to cross the mouth of the Weddell Sea, and attempt to
examine and sound the charted position of “Ross’s Appearance of
Land,” probably call at Elephant Island to obtain sand for ballast and
blubber for fuel, and proceed to Deception Island for coal for the
return to South Georgia.

After a long spell of bad weather, on January 25th we at last

experienced a change for the better, the day breaking bright and
clear, the water a deep blue and the icebergs a dazzling white. The
sea was comparatively smooth, and the Quest behaved moderately
well.

I seized the chance to get on with an amount of work which had

been difficult during the bad weather. Worsley, Dell and Carr
overhauled the Lucas sounding machine and fixed a roll of wire all
ready for a running out. When this was done, I set Carr to blocking
some of the scupper holes, in the hope of keeping a drier deck.
Macklin, assisted by Marr and Green, spent a busy morning in
squaring up the hold, and there was work for everyone in one way
or another. McIlroy and I baled out our cabins and put the wet gear
out to dry.[8]

The ship was found to be taking more water, Macklin reporting

that it had reached the level of the kelson, and I had to institute
longer spells at the pumps, each taking from one and a half to two
hours to pump her dry.

I got McIlroy to cut my hair, after which I acted as barber for

him, and for Kerr and Worsley also. They were no half cuts, but
good convict crops! Wilkins, with a view to stimulating the laggard
hairs on his crown to more active growth, shaved the top of his
head, and looked like a monk. He was growing a beard, as were a
number of the men. McLeod’s was the most flourishing; Dell and
Macklin each showed a respectable growth, and Kerr, Smith, Young,
Argles and Watts gave a promise of better things. Marr, not to be
outdone, was also making the attempt, but so far could show only a
stubble, which gave him rather a ferocious appearance.

In the afternoon Worsley took a sounding, with the unsought

assistance of all the men on board, who crowded round with a great
willingness to help, but who, like the cooks at the broth, only
impeded things. Four miles of wire were reeled out without finding
bottom, but, this being the first time we had used the Lucas
machine on this trip, it was probably incorrect. When it came to
winding up, the machine ran well, but when only about half the reel
had been taken in the wire broke, and we lost the sinkers and the
snapper (which is used to bring up specimens from the sea bottom).
From this time forward Dell took charge of the sounding machine,
and under his management it ran without a hitch. It was often a cold
and tedious job, but he took the greatest interest in the work, and
enabled Worsley to get some excellent results.

Whilst the sounding was in process a mass of pultaceous

material floated past the ship, some of which we collected. Macklin
examined a small portion of it under a microscope, and reported that
it was composed of feathers in a state of decomposition. Its
occurrence was hard to explain, but Wilkins thought it may have
come from one of the carnivorous mammals of these seas: a sea
leopard or a killer, which had swallowed a number of penguins or
other birds, and afterwards vomited the indigestible portions of
them, just as our sledge dogs used to vomit bones which they had
eaten.

Naisbitt asked me if he might start a ship’s magazine, to which I

assented.

I saw an Antarctic petrel, the first I had seen this trip. The
presence of these birds usually indicates proximity of ice.
 The fine weather did not last long, for the next day the wind and
seas increased, and the Quest took full advantage of the excuse to
behave as badly as ever. We encountered fewer bergs, but were
never out of sight of them altogether. One which lay two or three
miles to starboard had a very peculiar appearance, closely
resembling a sailing ship under canvas. Worsley examined it long
and attentively through binoculars, and exclaimed, “A sailing vessel!”
I cast some doubt on the probability, but after a second look he
cried excitedly, “It is a sailing vessel; I can see her topsail yard! Let
us go and talk to her!” A gleam of sunshine lighting upon the
“topsail yard” dispelled the illusion. I wonder what ship he expected
to see down there!

An extract from Marr’s diary on this date gives an interesting

sidelight:

A fairly strong sea was running when we came on deck for

“the middle,” but this did not deter us from our usual occupation
in the night watches, i.e. the consumption of food and drink.
Indeed, it must appear that our watch is very hungry, but it is
not so. This is merely our very effective method of passing the
four long hours on the bridge.

It was customary for the engine-room staff to make a hot drink

once a watch. The galley fire was always allowed to go out at night
because of the necessity for economy in coal consumption, and the
stokers used to boil the water in a tin on the furnace fires. The result
was that there was often some difficulty in diagnosing the nature of
the concoction, but under circumstances like this one could not be
over particular. We used to turn to each other, saying: “Well, at any
rate it is hot and wet.”
 Photo: Wilkins

A TYPICAL SCENE AT THE PACK EDGE

 Photo: Wilkins

KILLERS RISING TO “BLOW”

 Photo: Wilkins

THE QUEST PUSHING THROUGH THIN ICE

We had two casualties on January 30th. Douglas, whilst skipping

to keep himself warm, sprained his ankle, and had to take to his
bunk. Worsley also came to grief in a much more serious way.
Shortly after leaving South Georgia I had instructed Macklin to
provision each of our three boats for thirty days. As the surf-boat
was likely to be in frequent use, I had the provisions moved from her
and divided equally amongst the port and starboard life-boats, the
total in each weighing not less than a quarter of a ton. I decided to
swing the port life-boat outboard on her davits, both in order to
have her the more ready to lower away and to give us a little more
sorely needed space on the bridge deck. The sea was smooth, but
there was a long swell running which caused the Quest to give an
occasional heavy roll. We were in the midst of proceedings, and I
had got into the boat the better to direct operations, when suddenly
a guy fixing the forward davit carried away; the heavily laden boat
took charge, swinging inboard and out and in a fore and aft direction
with the swing of the unsecured davits. It was all I could do to hold
on, for I had been steadying myself with the after davit head, which
now swung in a semicircle. Many times I felt as if I must be flung
headlong into the sea. All hands gathered round to regain control,
but with the strain the after davit guy also parted. The boat swung
aft, sweeping Wilkins and Macklin off the bridge deck on to the
poop, where they met with no damage, and, surging forward again,
caught Worsley and drove him with tremendous force against the
after wall of the bridge house. The impact was heavy. I heard a cry
and a crash of splintering wood as the wall gave way. I felt sure
Worsley was killed. McIlroy immediately went to his assistance,
whilst the rest of us, after an effort, secured the boat and lowered
her on to the skids again.

Worsley appeared at first to be terribly damaged. His face turned

a deathly grey and was covered with perspiration, and he could
scarcely breathe. We carried him to his cabin, where the surgeons
made a careful examination. He had sustained severe damage to his
chest and broken a number of ribs. His whole body was covered with
bruises and abrasions, and he was suffering severely from shock.
The doctors reported his condition as serious, but thought that the
outlook was favourable unless signs of internal hæmorrhage
appeared. It was a great relief to feel that I had with me as
surgeons two reliable and experienced men. Worsley had
undoubtedly to thank the workmen who had this particular job in
hand for his life, for had the bridge house been of more solid
workmanship and shown greater resistance to the impact, he must
infallibly have been crushed to death.
 On this same day we reached the charted position of Pagoda
Rock. It was first reported by Lieut. T. E. L. Moore, in the Pagoda, in
1845, in the following words:

In the afternoon of the same day (Thursday), January 30th,

1845, we fell in with a most singular rock, or rock on an iceberg.
It appeared to be a mass of rock about 1,600 tons, and the top
was covered with ice, and did not appear to have any visible
motion, with a heavy sea beating over it. It had a tide mark
round it. We tried for soundings with 200 fathoms, and the first
time we fancied we had struck the ground, but before we could
try again we had drifted some distance off. We could not send a
boat or beat the ship up against the breeze that was then
blowing.

In our position, lat. 60° 11´ S. and 4° 47´ E. long., however,

there was no sign of it, though we made a traversing cruise, and a
sounding which showed a depth, of 2,980 fathoms gave no
indication of shoaling in the vicinity.
 Photo: Wilkins

LOOSE OPEN PACK

 Photo: Dr. Macklin

LOOSE PACK ICE, WITH THE SEA RAPIDLY

FREEZING OVER
 Photo: Wilkins

THE MIDNIGHT SUN

It is rather remarkable, however, that towards evening we saw a

very curious-looking berg, very dark green in colour and heavily
stained with some earthy material. We altered course to pass close
to it, and examined it carefully. It was an old, weather-beaten berg
which had evidently capsized. Our meeting with it in this particular
spot was a curious coincidence.

On the first day of February the maiden number of Expedition

Topics appeared under the editorship of Naisbitt. It was got up
simply, consisting of a number of sheets of typewritten matter,
chiefly on the humorous side, and containing a sly hit at most of the
company. There were also some clever drawings. Like everything
else that created an interest it was of value just then when the daily
life in those cold grey stormy seas was necessarily very monotonous.
 On February 2nd we had a strong gale from the south-east,
during which I was compelled to take in sail and heave to—very
disappointing, as we needed every mile we could make to the
eastward. The Quest behaved in the liveliest possible manner, and
everything that was not tightly lashed took charge. A bookcase in
my cabin had battens three inches wide placed along the shelves,
but they proved useless to keep in place the books, which hurled
themselves to the floor, where they were much damaged by the seas
which found their way in and swished up and down with every roll.

On deck everything had been lashed up and tightly secured, but

in the galley pots and pans took charge and defied all Green’s efforts
to make them remain on the stove. All kinds of utensils escaped into
“Gubbins Alley,” where they were carried up and down by the wash
of water, whilst Green splashed knee deep in pursuit. As he
recovered one lot so another leapt away, regardless of his
imprecations, till, some helpers coming along, order was once more
restored.

Naisbitt, whose work compelled him to pass frequently between

the wardroom and the galley, often with both hands full, had a very
trying time. At meals we had the greatest difficulty in keeping things
on the table, and we had to hold plates, cups, etc., in our hands,
balancing them against the roll of the ship. We had to abandon all
idea of comfort and wait patiently till the rage of the elements
should abate.

During this time of bad weather Worsley suffered very much, for,
with the violent rolling, he could get no rest in his bunk. He
improved, however; the doctors pronounced him out of danger, and
he spoke of soon getting up.

Macklin reported another fifteen inches of water in the hold—it

was obvious that it would be necessary to increase the daily spells of
pumping. All hands took to this unpleasant and monotonous job very
cheerfully, saying that it was good exercise! Indeed, there is not
much else that can be said for it.

In lat. 65° 7´ S. and 15° 21´ E. long, we entered, on February

4th, what appeared to be the edge of very open pack, which lay in
several strips and bands of light, loosely packed ice, with large open
spaces of water between. I made my course due south and pushed
into it. For some time I had doubts as to whether it was the real
pack or streamers carried north by the late south-easterly gale. The
sky to the south was very indefinite, and from the crow’s nest the
same conditions of loose ice and open water extended as far as the
eye could reach. The two “signs” which one looks for in the sky are
“ice-blink” and “water sky.” A sky with ice-blink presents near the
horizon a hard white appearance which indicates the proximity of
close pack, ice barrier, or snow-covered land. A “water sky” is a dark
patch in a lighter sky, which indicates open water below the horizon.
In each case when these skies are well marked they are definitely of
value, but it requires much experience to gauge accurately the
meaning of some of the more indefinite appearances, and
conclusions too hastily drawn often prove erroneous.

Whilst we were at sea I had watched the petrels which followed

in our wake attempting to come to rest on the water, but breaking
seas always drove them up again. I was interested to note that as
soon as we reached the pack they flew forward and came to rest on
a piece of ice, where they preened their feathers and settled down
on their breasts.

The ice had a wonderfully settling effect upon the sea,

deadening all but the heavier swells. The Quest became more
comfortable than she had been for a long time, and at lunch we
dispensed with the fiddles. This she would not tolerate, and a
sudden roll swept everything to the floor. Later in the day the belts
of ice became broader and the pools of water much smaller. There
could be no doubt that this was the real pack ice and that the most
strenuous part of our work was now to begin. Quoting from a diary:

Now the little Quest can really try her mettle. What is in
store for us? Will the pack, as variable in its moods as the open
sea, prove friendly or will it rise in its wrath to punish man’s
temerity in thus bringing to the attack so small a craft? Before
this effort the smallest ship to make a serious attempt to
penetrate the heavy Antarctic pack was the Endurance, and she
lies crushed and broken many fathoms deep in the Weddell Sea.
We are but half her size! Shall we escape, or will the Quest go
to join the ships in Davy Jones’s Locker, and the queer deep-sea
fish nose about amongst her broken spars? We are not in the
least pessimistic, but the man who blinds himself to the
possibility is a fool.

My sense of responsibility was growing daily, for though I always

welcomed the suggestions of my senior officers I realized that on me
alone must devolve the final decision in every plan and in every
movement. This was my fifth expedition—nearly half my life has
been spent in Antarctic exploration—and every accumulated year of
experience has taught me more and more how much in this work we
are the playthings of chance. Experience counts a great deal, of
course, but no amount of experience, care or skill can be of much
avail against prolonged and overwhelming pressure. Yet in those first
days in the ice, as I stood on the bridge and looked down on the
decks I saw amongst my men nothing but elation. Carr, Douglas and
others who saw the ice for the first time were fascinated by it, and
amongst the old hands there was obvious pleasure at again meeting
the pack. Old McLeod, veteran of many expeditions, said to McIlroy:
“Here we are home again! Doesn’t it do you good to get back!” Even
Query was affected with the general air of uplift, and with paws on
gunwale gazed with twitching nostrils at this new phenomenon. Nor