Читать книгу South with Scott - Edward Ratcliffe Garth Russell Evans - Страница 8

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Sailing day came at last, and on June 1, 1910, when I proudly showed Scott his ship, he very kindly ordered the hands aft and thanked them for what they had done.

The yards were square, the hatches on with spick-and-span white hatch covers, a broad white ribbon brightened the black side, and gold leaf bedizened the quarter badges besides gilding the rope scroll on the stern. The ship had been well painted up, a neat harbour furl put on the sails, and if the steamers and lofty sailing vessels in the basin could have spoken, their message would surely have been, ‘Well done, little ’un.’

What a change from the smudgy little lamp-black craft of last November—so much for paint and polish. All the same it was the Terra Nova’s Indian summer. A close search by the technically expert would have revealed scars of age in the little lady, furrows worn in her sides by grinding ice floes, patches in the sails, strengthening pieces in the cross-trees and sad-looking deadeyes and lanyards which plainly told of a bygone age.

But the merchant seamen who watched from the dock side were kind and said nothing. The old admirals who had come down to visit the ship were used to these things, or perhaps they did not twig it. After all, what did it matter, it was sailing day, we were all as proud as peacocks of our little ship, and from that day forward we pulled together and played the game, or tried to.

Lady Bridgeman, wife of the first Sea Lord, and Lady Markham hoisted the White Ensign and the Burgee of the Royal Yacht Squadron an hour or so before sailing. At 4.45 p.m. the visitors were warned off the ship, and a quarter of an hour later we slipped from our wharf in the South-West India Docks and proceeded into the river and thence to Greenhithe, where we anchored off my old training ship, the Worcester, and gave the cadets a chance to look over the ship. On the 3rd June we arrived at Spithead, where we were boarded by Captain Chetwynd, Superintendent of Compasses at the Admiralty, who swung the ship and adjusted our compasses. Captain Scott joined us on the 4th and paid a visit with his ‘yacht’ to the R.Y.S. at Cowes. On the 6th we completed a series of magnetic observations in the Solent, after which many officers were entertained by Captain Mark Kerr in the ill-fated Invincible. We were royally looked after, but I am ashamed to say we cleared most of his canvas and boatswain’s stores out of the ship. Perhaps a new 3½-inch hawser found its way to the Terra Nova; anyway, if the Invincible’s stores came on board the exploring vessel she made good use of them and saved them their Jutland fate. We left the Solent in high feather on the following day.

“Under sail!”—the Terra Nova, heeling to a gale on her journey south, and——

The Sea Horse took us in tow to the Needles, from whence H.M.S. Cumberland, Cadets’ Training Ship, towed us to Weymouth Bay. This was poor Scott’s last Naval review. He had landed at Portsmouth and busied himself with the Expedition’s affairs and rejoined us at Weymouth in time to steam through the Home Fleet assembled in Portland Harbour. We steamed out of the ‘hole in the wall’ at the western end of Portland Breakwater and rounded Portland Bill at sunset on our way to Cardiff, where we were to be received by my own Welsh friends and endowed with all good things. We were welcomed by the citizens of the great Welsh seaport with enthusiasm. Free docking, free coal, defects made good for nothing, an office and staff placed at our disposal, in fact everything was done with an open-hearted generosity. We took another 300 tons of patent fuel on board and nearly 100 tons of Insole’s best Welsh steaming coal, together with the bulk of our lubricating oils. When complete with fuel we met with our first setback, for the little ship settled deeply in the water and the seams, which had up till now been well above the water-line, leaked in a way that augured a gloomy future for the crew in the nature of pumping. With steam up this did not mean anything much, but under sail alone, unless we could locate the leaky seams, it meant half an hour to an hour’s pumping every watch. We found a very leaky spot in the fore peak, which was mostly made good by cementing.

——journey’s end: the Terra Nova in the icy vastness of the Antarctic.

On the 15th June we left the United Kingdom after a rattling good time in Cardiff. Many shore boats and small craft accompanied us down the Bristol Channel as far as Breaksea Light Vessel. We hoisted the Cardiff flag at the fore and the Welsh flag at the mizen—some wag pointed to the flag and asked why we had not a leek under it, and I felt bound to reply that we had a leak in the fore peak! It was a wonderful send-off and we cheered ourselves hoarse. Captain Scott left with our most intimate friends in the pilot boat and we proceeded a little sadly on our way.

“All the ponies were white”—above, a part of the British Antarctic Expedition’s stables. Below, one of the dogs indulges a taste for music.

After passing Lundy Island we experienced a head wind and the gentle summer swell of the Atlantic. In spite of her deeply-laden condition the Terra Nova breasted each wave in splendid form, lifting her toy bowsprit proudly in the air till she reminded me, with her deck cargo, of a little mother with her child upon her back.

Our first port of call was Madeira, where it was proposed to bunker, and we made good passage to the island under steam and sail for the most part. We stayed a couple of days coaling and taking magnetic observations at Funchal, then ran out into the north-east Trades, let fires out, and became a sailing ship.

Whilst lazily gazing at fertile Madeira from our anchorage we little dreamt that within two months the distinguished Norseman, Roald Amundsen, would be unfolding his plans to his companions on board the Fram in this very anchorage, plans which changed the whole published object of his expedition, plans which culminated in the triumph of the Norwegian flag over our own little Union Jack, and plans which caused our people a fearful disappointment—for Amundsen’s ultimate success meant our failure to achieve the main object of our Expedition: to plant the British Flag first at the South Pole.

Under sail! Quite a number of the scientists and crew had never been to sea in a sailing ship before, but a fair wind and a collection of keen and smiling young men moving about the decks were particularly refreshing to me after the year of fund collecting and preparation.

We learnt to know a great deal about one another on the outward voyage to New Zealand, where we were to embark our dogs and ponies. The most surprising personality was Bowers, considering all things.

Officers, scientists, and the watch worked side by side trimming coals and restoring the ’tween decks as cases were shaken and equipment assembled. The scientific staff were soon efficient at handing, reefing, and steering. Every one lent a hand at whatever work was going. Victor Campbell was christened the ‘Wicked Mate,’ and he shepherded and fathered the afterguard delightfully.

Wilson and I shared the Captain’s cabin, and when there was nothing afoot he made lovely sea sketches and water-colour drawings to keep his hand in. Certainly Uncle Bill^[1] had copy enough in those days of sunlit seas and glorious sunrises. He was up always an hour before the sun and missed very little that was worth recording with his artistic touch. Wilson took Cherry-Garrard under his wing and brought him up as it were in the shadow of his own unselfish character. We had no adventures to record until the last week in July beyond the catching of flying-fish, singing chanties at the pump, and Lillie getting measles. We isolated him in the dark room, which, despite its name, was one of the lightest and freshest rooms in the ship. Atkinson took charge of the patient and Lillie could not have been in the hands of a better or more cheery medico.

Not all of the members of the Expedition had embarked in England, although the majority came out in the ship to save expense.

Captain Scott had remained behind to squeeze out more subscriptions and to complete arrangements with the Central News, which he was making in order to give the world’s newspapers the story of the Expedition for simultaneous publication as reports came back to civilisation in the Terra Nova. He also had finally to settle magazine and cinematograph contracts which were to help pay for the Expedition, and lastly, our leader, with Drake and Wyatt, the business manager, were to pay bills we had incurred by countless items of equipment, large and small, which went to fill up our lengthy stores lists. Thankless work enough—we in the ship were much better off with no cares now beyond the handling of our toy ship and her safe conduct to Lyttleton. Cecil Meares and Lieut. Bruce were on their way through Siberia collecting dogs and ponies. Ponting was purchasing the photographic and cinematographic outfit, Griffith Taylor, Debenham, and Priestley, our three geologists, and Day, the motor engineer, were to join us in New Zealand, and Captain Scott with Drake at Capetown.

In order to get another series of magnetic observations and to give the staff relief from the monotony of the voyage as well as an opportunity for doing a little special work, we stopped at the uninhabited island of South Trinidad for a couple of days, arriving on July 26.

Trinidad Island looked magnificent with its towering peaks as we approached it by moonlight. We dropped anchor shortly after dawn, the ship was handed over to the Wicked Mate and Boatswain, who set up the rigging and delighted themselves with a seamanlike refit. Campbell had a party over the side scrubbing the weed off, and many of the ship’s company attempted to harpoon the small sharks which came close round in shoals and provided considerable amusement. These fish were too small to be dangerous. After breakfast all the scientists and most of the officers landed and were organised by Uncle Bill into small parties to collect birds’ eggs, flowers, specimens, to photograph and to sketch. A good lunch was taken ashore, and we looked more like a gunroom picnic party than a scientific expedition when we left the ship in flannels and all manner of weird costumes. Wilson, Pennell, and Cherry-Garrard shot a number of birds, mostly terns and gannets, and climbed practically to the top of the island, where they could see the Martin Vaz islets on the horizon. Wilson secured some Trinidad petrels, both white breasted and black breasted, and discovered that the former is the young bird and the latter the adult of the same species. He found them in the same nests. We collected many terns’ eggs; the tern has no nest but lays its eggs on a smooth rock. Also one or two frigate birds were caught. Nelson worked along the beach, finding sea-urchins, anemones, and worms, which he taught the sailors the names of—polycheats and sepunculids, I think he called them. He caught various fishes, including sea-perches, garfish, coralfish, and an eel, a small octopus and a quantity of sponges. Trigger-fish were so abundant that many of them were speared from the ship with the greatest of ease, and Rennick harpooned a couple from a boat with an ordinary dinner fork. Lillie, who had recovered from measles, was all about, and his party went for flowering plants and lichens. He climbed to the summit of the island—2000 ft.—and gave it as his opinion that the dead trees strewn all round the base of the island had been carried down with the volcanic debris from higher altitudes. It was also his suggestion that the island had only recently risen, the trees which originally grew on the top of the island having died from unsuitable climate in the higher condition. Gran went up with Lillie and took photographs. ‘Birdie’ Bowers and Wright were employed collecting insects, and, with those added by the rest of us, the day’s collection included all kinds of ants, cockroaches, grasshoppers, mayflies, a centipede, fifteen different species of spider, locusts, a cricket, woodlice, a parasite fly, a beetle, and a moth. We failed to get any of the dragonflies seen, and, to the great sorrow of the crews who landed with us, missed capturing a most beautiful chestnut-coloured mouse with a fur tail. Land crabs, a dirty yellow in colour, were found everywhere, the farther one went inland the bigger were the crabs. The blue shore crabs were only to be seen near the sea or along the coast and water courses. Several of these were brought off to the ship for Dr Atkinson to play with, and he found nematodes in them, and parasites in the birds and fish.

During the afternoon a swell began to roll in the bay and those on board the ship hoisted the warning signal and fired a sound rocket to recall the scattered parties. By 4.30 we had reassembled on the rocks where we had landed in the forenoon, but the rollers, being fifteen feet high, it was obviously unwise to send off cameras and perishable gear, and since it was equally inadvisable to leave the whole party ashore without food and sufficient clothing and the prospect of an inhospitable island home for days, we all swam off one by one, the boat’s crew working a grassline bent to a lifebuoy. The boat to which we swam was riding to a big anchor a hundred feet from the shore, just outside the surf. There were a few sharks round the whaler, but they were shy and left us alone. Rennick worked round the boat in a small Norwegian pram and scared them away. Many trigger-fish swallowed the thick vegetable oil which the boat’s crew ladled into the sea to keep the surf down, and I think this probably attracted the sharks, though it was not very nice to swim through. None of us were any the worse for our romp ashore, but the long day and the hot sun tired us all out. Nearly all the afterguard slept on the upper deck that night, and, but for the dismal roar of the swell breaking on the rocks and the heavy rolling of the Terra Nova, we spent quite a comfortable night. Dr Atkinson and Brewster had been left ashore with the gear, but they got no sleep because all night the terns flew round crying and protesting against their intrusion. The wail of these birds sounds like the deep note of a banjo. The two men mostly feared the land crabs, but to their surprise they were left in peace.

Next day about 9 a.m. I went in with Rennick, Bowers, Oates, Gran, and two seamen to the landing place, taking a whaler and pram equipped with grass hawser, breeches buoy, rocket line, and everything necessary to bring off the gear. We had a rough time getting the stuff away undamaged by the sea, but the pram was a wonderful sea-boat and we took it in turns to work her through the surf until everything was away.

At the last, when nearly everything had been salved and got to the whaler, the collections in tin boxes, wooden cases and baskets, and the two men, Atkinson and Brewster, were on board, a large wave threw the pram right up on the rocks, capsizing her and damaging her badly. Her two occupants jumped out just before a second wave swept the boat over and over. Then a third huge roller came up and washed the pram out to sea, where she was recovered by means of a grapnel thrown from the whaler. The two on the rocks had to face the surf again but were good swimmers, and with their recovery our little adventure ended. It was a pity we had bad weather, because I intended to give the crew a run on the island when Campbell had finished with them.

We remained another day under the lee of Trinidad Island owing to a hard blow from the south-east—a dead head wind for us—because I felt it would be useless to put to sea and punch into it. We were anchored one mile S. 4° E. (magnetic) from the Ninepin Rock, well sheltered from the prevailing wind. We left Trinidad at noon on the 28th, well prepared for the bad weather expected on approaching the Cape of Good Hope.

Whilst clearing the land we had an excellent view of South West Bay and saw a fine lot of rollers breaking on the beach. I was glad we kept there that day, as, in my opinion, our anchorage was really the only fair one off the island. By noon on the 29th we had left South Trinidad out of sight, the wind had freshened again and we could almost lay our course under sail for the Cape. This next stage of the voyage was merely a story of hard winds and heavy rolls. The ship leaked less as she used up the coal and patent fuel. All the same we spent many hours at the pump, but, since much of the pumping was done by the afterguard—as were called the officers and scientists—we developed and hardened our muscles finely. In the daytime the afterguard were never idle; there is always plenty to do in a sailing ship, and when not attending to their special duties the scientists were kept working at everything that helped the show along. Whilst on deck they were strictly disciplined and subordinate and respectful to the ship’s executive officers, while in the ward-room they fought these same officers in a friendly way for every harsh word and every job they had had imposed on them.

Campbell was a fine seaman; he was respected and admired by such people as Oates and Atkinson, who willingly pocketed their pride and allowed themselves to be hustled round equally with the youngest seaman on board. The Wicked Mate generally had all the afterguard under the hose before breakfast, as washing water was scarce and the allowance meagre on such a protracted voyage.

In the hotter weather we nearly all slept on deck, the space on top of the ice-house and in the boats being favourite billets. There was no privacy in the ship and only the officers of watches and lookout men were ever left with their thoughts. One or two of the younger members confessed to being homesick, for the voyage was long and it was not at all certain that we should all win back to ‘England, home, and beauty.’

Those who were not sailor men soon acquired the habit of the sea, growing accustomed to meeting fair and foul weather with an equally good face, rejoicing with us sailor men at a fair wind and full sail and standing by top-gallant and topsail halyards when the prospects were more leaden coloured and the barometer falling. We numbered about forty now, which meant heaps of beef to haul on ropes and plenty of trimmers to shift the coal from the hold to the bunkers. One or two were always stoking side by side with the firemen, and in this fashion officers, seamen, and scientific staff cemented a greater friendship and respect for one another.

On August 7, after drinking to absent friends, Oates, Atkinson, and Gran, ‘the three midshipmen,’ were confirmed in their rank and a ship’s biscuit broken on the head of each in accordance with gunroom practice, and after this day, during good and bad weather, these three kept regular watch with the seamen, going aloft, steering, and taking all the usual duties in their turn.

From the start Pennell, who was to relieve me in command of the ship on her arrival at the Antarctic base, showed an astounding knowledge of birds, and Wilson took the keenest interest in teaching him about bird-life in the Great Southern ocean and giving him a preliminary idea of the bird types to be met with in Antarctica.

Reflecting back to these days one sees how well we all knitted into the places we were to fill, because a long sea-voyage searches out hidden qualities and defects, not that there were many of the latter, still one man developed lung trouble and another had a strained heart. One of these, to our great regret, was forced to leave the expedition before the ship went south, while the other had to be ruled out of the shore party—an awful disappointment to them both.

We reached Simon’s Town on August 15, and here the Naval authorities gave us every assistance, lent us working parties and made good our long defect list. We were disappointed on arriving to find that Captain Scott was away in Pretoria, but he succeeded in obtaining a grant of £500 from the South African Government and raised another £500 by private subscription. When Captain Scott came amongst us again he wrote of the Terra Nova party that we were all very pleased with the ship and very pleased with ourselves, describing our state of happiness and overflowing enthusiasm exactly.

Those who could be spared were given leave here; some of us went up-country for a few days and had a chance to enjoy South African scenery. Oates, Atkinson, and Bowers went to Wynberg and temporarily forgot the sea. Oates’s one idea was a horse, and he spent his holiday as much on horseback as he possibly could. In a letter he expressed great admiration for the plucky manner in which Atkinson rode to hounds one day at Wynberg. These two were great friends, but it would be hard to imagine two more naturally silent men, and one wonders how evident pleasure can be obtained with a speechless companion.

Scott now changed with Wilson, who went by mail steamer to Australia in order to organise and finally engage the Australian members of our staff. Our leader was without doubt delighted to make the longer voyage with us in the Terra Nova and to get away from the hum of commerce and the small talk of the many people who were pleased to meet him—until the hat was handed round—that awful fund-collecting.

[1]	Dr Wilson’s nickname.