Of Rogue Waves and Leadership by Jodi Guerra

Worsley also wrote:

“Looking back on this great boat journey, it seems certain that some of our men would have succumbed to the protracted strain but for Shackleton. So great was his care for his people that, to rough men, it seemed at times…even to the verge of fussiness. If a man shivered more than usual, he would plunge his hand into the heat of the spare clothes bag for the last sodden pair of socks for him.”

(Perkins, 59)

Even though Vincent and McNeish were strained, Crean and McCarthy proved invaluable. Crean and Shackleton had a special friendship:

“Tom Crean had been so long and done so much with Sir E that he had become a privileged retainer. As they turned in, a kind of wordless rumbling, muttering, growling noise could be heard issuing from the dark & gloomy lair in the bows sometimes directed at one another, sometimes at things in general, & sometimes at nothing at all. At times they were so full of quaint conceits & Crean’s remarks were so Irish that I ran risk of explosion by suppressed laughter. ‘Go to sleep Crean & don’t be clucking likean old hen.’ ‘ Boss, I can’t eat those reindeer hairs.  I’ll have an inside on me like a billy goats neck.  Let’s give ‘em to the Skipper & McCarthy. They never know what they’re eating’ & so on.”

(Alexander, 148)

McCarthy was, like Shackleton, just an out-and-out optimist:

“He is the most irrepressible optimist I’ve ever met. When I relieve him at the helm, boat iced and seas pourg:  down yr neck,  he informs me with a happy grin  ‘It’s a grandday, sir.’”  Written by Worlsey.

(Alexander, 148)

And so, even in the midst of all this danger and constant soaking, wetness and ice, they could laugh and get along.

Worsley, with all of the bad weather, and the damage done to his charts by the constant soaking, had only been able to calculate their position four times. The situation was growing dire. If Worsley had miscalculated, and they missed South Georgia, the ocean eastward is a complete void for 3,000 miles until you reach South Africa. And so, they couldn’t afford a mistake.

Then one day, a piece of kelp rolled by and then a cormorant flew over. These birds rarely fly further than fifteen miles from land. Finally, McCarthy shouted, “Land!” It was a little over ten miles away.

The men desperately needed to land. They had been without water for two days. They indeed tried to land, but couldn’t find a place to do so that was safe. They knew that after this night they would be on land. What a relief this must have been. But, true to the pattern, a storm blew them away from the coast. They were almost wrecked and killed, but somehow they were spared. The danger was so grave that, in fact, both Worsley and Shackleton have recorded their resignation and disappointment. They had made such a phenomenally extraordinary journey, and no one would ever know it.  The storm was actually a hurricane that suddenly blew up. This same storm caused a 500-ton steamer to founder. I told you God was saving this man!

Finally, finally, they got to a cove and made landfall on South Georgia.  And so providentially, right where they landed was a water source: a stream. It was May 10, 1916, 522 days after they had first left South Georgia.

Alexander explains the significance of their voyage:

“Undoubtedly they were conscious of having achieved a great journey…But at the moment they could hardly have known – or cared – that in the carefully weighed judgment of authorities yet to come, the voyage of the James Caird would be ranked as one of the greatest boat journeys ever accomplished.”

(Alexander, 153)

Of Rogue Waves and Leadership by Jodi Guerra

On Elephant Island the men had to try to find shelter. What they ended up with was the two boats overturned on top of stones with bits of moss and canvas stuck in the wholes. All twenty-two of the men lived in that!

Their days were spent discussing the Caird voyage, walking around the tiny strip of land, hunting and taking care of patients:

“Kerr developed a bad tooth and Macklin had to pull it for him. ‘And a grimy quack of a dentist I must have looked,’ wrote Macklin. ‘Not much refinement here – ‘Come outside and open your mouth’ – no cocaine or anesthesia.’“

Wordie’s hand became infected, and Holness was troubled with a sty. Rickenson was slowly recovering from the heart attack he suffered the day they landed, but the saltwater boils on his wrists stubbornly refused to heal. Greenstreet’s feet, which had been frostbitten in the boats, did not improve and he was confined to his sleeping bag.

Hudson seemed in a serious way. His hands showed definite signs of healing, but the pain in his left buttock which had begun in the boats had developed into a very large abscess which pained him constantly. Mentally, too, the scars of the boat journey apparently were still with him. Much of the time he lay in his sleeping bag for hours without speaking, and he seemed disinterested and detached from what was going on around him.

“The most serious invalid was Blackboro. His right foot appeared to be recovering, and there was hope that it might even be saved. But in the toes of his left foot gangrene had already set in…”

(Lansing, 199-200)

Eventually Blackboro’s toes all had to be amputated with the surgeons performing the surgery in that tiny hut!

Somehow, they still had that banjo!  So Hussey was still playing that for entertainment.

The men had to spend the winter on Elephant Island, and the days grew so monotonous for them.  All they could do was wait……

What, though, happened to the James Caird?

It took 16 days, but our heroes did reach their destination. The men aboard the boat were divided into two crews who took turns navigating the boat or going down below to try to sleep.

They really didn’t get to sleep that much as it was virtually impossible to do so. On this trip there would be no floes upon which to stop and even partially rest. This trip was a direct, non-stop.

What a difficult journey:

“’We were getting soaked on an average every three or four minutes,’ wrote Worsley.‘This went on day and night. The cold was intense.’ Particularly hateful was the task of working the pump,

which one man had to hold hard against the bottom of the boat with bare hands – a position that could not be endured beyond five or six minutes at a time.”

(Alexander, 146)

Sprayed by water, baling water, trying to steer, stung by the wind, chipping ice off the ship – these were all non-stop efforts. Day after day of gales and hurricanes faced by this twenty-two foot open boat.

We’ve already mentioned the rogue wave that nearly capsized the James Caird. How did theyhold up?

Here’s what faced them physically:

“The men were soaked to the bone and frostbitten. They were badly chafed by wet clothes that had not been removed for seven months, and afflicted with saltwater boils.Their wet feet and legs were a sickly white color and swollen. Their hands were black –with grime, blubber, burns from the Primus and frostbite. The least movement was excruciating.”

(Alexander, 147)

The trip took a toll on Vincent who appears to have just cratered. McNeish suffered as well:

“’Two of the party at least were very close to death,’ Worsley wrote. ‘Indeed, it might be said that [Shackleton] kept a finger on each man’s pulse. Whenever he noticed that a man seemed extra cold and shivered, he would immediately order another hot drink of milk to be prepared and served to all. He never let the man know that it was on his account, lest he became nervous about himself.”

(Alexander, 147)

Of Rogue Waves and Leadership by Jodi Guerra

Before Shackleton left, he tied up all the loose ends with Wild.  He trusted Wild implicitly and knew that leaving him there was just the same as staying there himself.  He trusted him to keep morale high and to take care of the men.  The rest of the group intensely respected Wild. Wild and Shackleton reviewed what to do during the stay on Elephant Island including what to do if he did not return and numerous other issues.  Shackleton left his last instructions with Wild in a letter:

April 23rd, 1916 Elephant Island

Dear Sir

In the event of my not surviving the boat journey to South Georgia you will do your best for the rescue of the party.  You are in full command from the time the boat leaves this island, and all hands are under your orders.  On your return to England you are to communicate with the Committee.  I wish you, Lees & Hurley to write the book.  You watch my interests.  In another letter you will find the terms as agreed for lecturing you to do England Great Britain & Continent.  Hurley the U.S.A.  I have every confidence in you and always have had, May God prosper your work and your life.  You can convey my love to my people and say I tried my best.

Yours sincerely

E.H. Shackleton

So, who would you rather be?  Frank Wild staying on Elephant Island, or Ernest Shackleton, sailing to South Georgia?  Both had pretty horrendous duties, did they not?  Consider what Wild was facing:

“Wild’s responsibilities were unenviable.  He was in charge of the care of twenty-one demoralized, partially incapacitated, and perhaps rebellious men, with one man, Blackborow, gravely ill.  The deserted, barren rock on which they would have to live was, as they had slowly come to realize, daily raked by gale-force winds and blizzards.  They had insufficient clothing and no shelter.  They had no source of food or fuel except for penguins and seals, which could not be counted on to be around forever.  They were well beyond all shipping lanes.  If the James Caird was unsuccessful, there was, as Shackleton himself wrote, ‘no chance at all of any search being made…on Elephant Island.’”

(Alexander, 141)

Of Rogue Waves and Leadership by Jodi Guerra

“The island of South Georgia was 800 miles away – more than ten times the distance they had just traveled.  To reach it, a twenty-two-and-a-half-foot long open boat would have to cross the most formidable ocean on the planet, in the winter.  They could expect winds up to 80 miles an hour, and heaving waves – the notorious Cape Horn Rollers –measuring from trough to crest as much as sixty feet in height; if unlucky, they would encounter worse.  They would be navigating towards a small island, with no points of land in between, using a sextant and chronometer – under brooding skies that might not permit a single navigational sighting.  The task was not merely formidable; it was, as every sailing man of the company knew, impossible.” (Alexander, 132)

“Worsley had already distinguished himself as a navigator by landing the three boats safely on Elephant Island.  He had served for several years in the Pacific for the New Zealand Government Steamer Service, where he had become proficient in sailing small boats and navigating for landfalls on small islands.”(Alexander, 134)

“Wild wanted him to stay with him on Elephant Island; Shackleton wanted him in the Caird.  Everyone knew that this tough seaman, who had won the Albert Medal for bravery on Scott’s last expedition, would be an asset to any cause he served.  Crean was perhaps as close as one can come to being indestructible.”(Alexander, 134)

“…had never caused anyone a moment’s trouble, and he was universally liked. Shackleton picked him for no more complicated reasons than that he was an experienced seaman, and that he was built like a bull.”(Lansing, 188)

Of Rogue Waves and Leadership by Jodi Guerra

Somehow they finally made land on April 15 even though one of the boats became separated. Eventually the men were all reunited. Many of the men were a bit looney, but at least they were all there. The seven days on the open ocean had take a severe toll: Rickenson had suffered a heart attack and some salt-water boils;  Blackborow couldn’t walk because his feet were so frostbitten; Hudson basically suffered a breakdown and also had a huge abscess on his buttock; Greenstreet also had frostbite and severe back pain.

But they were on land. Glorious land. But it wasn’t so glorious. Elephant Island-sounds grand and majestic. It was hardly either. The beach upon which they landed was a mere 100 feet wide and only 50 feet long, really just a tiny, tiny strip of land.  Macklin was not impressed:

“’A more inhospitable place could scarcely be imagined. The gusts increased inviolence and became so strong that we could hardly walk against them, and there wasnot a lee or a scrap of shelter anywhere.”(Lansing, 185)

They came to call it “Hell-of-an-island.” After a few days of rest, they moved their camp, but it was really just a horrible place. Of course, a gale blew through only adding to their misery and despondency. Against this backdrop, on April 20, Shackleton announced that he would take a party of men on the James Caird and sail for South Georgia Island, a spectacular 779 miles east northeast of them.

Elephant Island

Of Rogue Waves and Leadership by Jodi Guerra

Shackleton wrote:

“Most of the men were now looking seriously worn and strained. Their lips were cracked and their eyes and eyelids showed red in their salt-encrusted faces…Obviously, we must make land quickly, and I decided to run for Elephant Island.”(Alexander, 124)

Shackleton knew morale needed a boost and so he declared unlimited food would be available. Water, however, was low as they had not been able to take on any from the floes. Shackleton frankly did not think some of the men would survive the next night. The bravery and determination of everyone was incredible:

“Through all the demanding days and all the long and terrible hours of darkness, the helmsmen – Wild and McNeish,  Hudson and Crean, Worsley and Greenstreet – had remained immovable at their posts as waves crashed over them, as their clothes froze upon them, as the wind and spray stung their tired faces.” (Alexander, 125)

At dawn, good news! Worsley’s calculations had proved correct. Elephant Island was only two days away. The strong winds were favorable pushing them forward. The situation was very precarious, however. Alexander describes the circumstances:

“At least half of the party were insane,’ according to Wild, ‘fortunately not violent, simply helpless and hopeless.’ The Stancomb Wills drew abreast of the Caird to report that Hudson had collapsed after seventy-two hours at the helm, and Blackborow reported that ‘there was something wrong’ with his feet. Continual immersion in saltwater had caused the eruption of painful boils on many men; their bodies were badly chafed, and their mouths throbbed with thirst.” (Alexander, 125)

Now, only ten miles from land, a storm broke out!  Worsley had not slept for ninety hours. Finally when persuaded to lie down, he could not do so as he was so stiff form hanging over the tiller. Our man Shackleton was no different. He had not slept since leaving Patience Camp: “’Practically ever since we had first started Sir Ernest had been standing erect day and night on the stern-counter of the Caird,’ Lees wrote. ‘How he stood the incessant vigiland exposure is marvelous.’”(Alexander, 126)

Shackleton was immensely concerned and connected to his men. During this boat journey, the photographer Hurley had lost his mittens. Shackleton noticed and tried to give his own to Hurley. Here’s what Orde-Lees wrote about the exchange:

“At once [he] divested himself of his own, and in spite of the fact that he was standing up in the most exposed position all the while he insisted upon Hurley’s acceptance of the mits, and on the latter’s protesting Sir Ernest was on the point of throwing them overboard rather than wear them when one of his subordinates had to go without; as a consequence Sir Ernest had one finger rather severely frostbitten.”(Perkins, 36)

 

 

Of Rogue Waves and Leadership by Jodi Guerra

Finally, the next morning the three boats escaped the ice pack.  The full force of the wind and the ocean took hold of them:

“Freezing spray burst over them as they tried to beat their way to the NNE under sail.  Time after time, icy blasts whipped them across the face, and the penetrating wind seemed all the colder because of their lack of sleep.” (Lansing, 147)

Storms and snow beleaguered the sailors.  When they left Patience Camp, they believed they were only 39 miles away from Clarence Island.  After two days in the boats carried by the currents, they felt they were near King George Island, 80 miles away.  But, wouldn’t you know it?  On April 12, they sky was clear enough at noon for Worsley to use his sextant and get a reading to determine where they were.  Here’s how it’s described:

“About ten-thirty, Worsley took out his sextant.  Then, bracing against the mast of the Docker, he carefully took his sight – the first since leaving Patience Camp.  At noon he repeated the procedure, as the bots lay to awaiting the result.  Every face was turned toward Worsley as he sat in the bottom of the Docker working out his figures.  They watched to see his expression when the two lines of position were plotted for a fix.  It took him much longer than usually, and gradually a puzzled look came over his face.  He checked his calculations over, and the expression of puzzlement gave way to one of worry.  Once more he ran through his computations; then he slowly raised his head.  Shackleton had brought the Caird alongside the Docker, and Worsley showed him the position – 62-degrees15’ South, 53-degrees7’ West.

“They were 124 miles nearly due east of King George Island and 61 miles southeast of Clarence Island – 22 miles farther from land than when they had launched the boats from Patience Camp three days before! (Lansing, 155)

It was horrible, awful news.  And very disheartening, but what could they do but continue forward?  The new destination was Hope Bay, 130 miles away.

And now, here comes a storm.  The temperature drops to 4 below, and the wind was really blowing.  It was so cold they cold hear the water freezing on their clothes.

“The clothes the men wore, now that they were sitting almost motionless, froze stiff.  Not only were their garments wet from the spray and the snow, they were also worn and saturated with the oil secreted from the men’s own bodies during six months of constant wear.  If a man shifted his position, even slightly, his skin came in contact with a new, unwarmed surface of his clothing.  Everyone tried to sit still, but it could not be done.  The weariness, the lack of food, the exertion, and the worry had weakened them so that the harder they tried to sit still, the more they shivered – and their own shivering kept them awake…” (Lansing, 157)

Of Rogue Waves and Leadership by Jodi Guerra

Lansing describes the events of the first evening:

“Toward eleven o’clock, Shackleton became strangely uneasy, so he dressed and went outside. He noticed that the swell had increased and their floe had swung around so that it was meeting the seas head on. He had stood watching for only a few moments, when there was a deep-throated thud and the floe split beneath his feet – and directly under No. 4 tent in which the eight forecastle hands were sleeping. “Almost instantly the two pieces of the floe drew apart, the tent collapsed and there was a splash. The crewmen scrambled out from under the limp canvas.”

’Somebody’s missing,’ one man shouted. Shackleton rushed forward and began to tear the tent away. In the dark he could hear muffled, gasping noises coming from below. When he finally got the tent out of the way, he was a shapeless form wriggling in the water – a man in his sleeping bag. Shackleton reached out for the bag and with one tremendous heave, he pulled it out of the water. A moment later, the two halves of the broken floe came together with a violent shock. “The man in the sleeping bag turned out to be Ernie Holness, one of the firemen.  He was soaked through but he was alive…” (Lansing, 144-145)

Of Rogue Waves and Leadership – by Jodi Guerra

Finally, the floe they were on, this piece of floating ice, began over time to crack apart. They had to move camp, move the boats, the stores, etc., every time this happened. It became clear that the floe they were on was really moving much more quickly. Some were even seasick from the motion. And as they were pulled into warmer, more Northerly waters, more and more wildlife appeared. One day on April 9, the ice broke right under the largest of the boats, the James Caird. It was time togo. Finally, after 15 months trapped and floating on the ice, the men took to the boats. They were headed for open waters. In many ways, the real danger was just beginning. This was to be no easy journey.

The men were divided among the three boats that were all named after the principal financial backers of the expedition. The James Caird was commanded by Shackleton and Wild. Worsley commanded the Dudley Docker, and Hudson and Crean were over the Stancomb Wills.

Bakewell wrote: “Our first day in the water was one of the coldest and most dangerous of the expedition…The ice was running riot. It was a hard race to keep our boats in the open leads…[We] had many narrow escapes from being crushed when the larger masses of the pack would come together.” (Alexander, 119)

But where were they? They were in some very dangerous waters. Here’s what Lansing has to say about their position:

“The position when the boats were launched was 61-degrees56’ South, 53-degrees56’West, near the eastern reaches of what is called Bransfield Strait. Bransfield Strait isabout 200 miles long and 60 miles wide, lying between the Palmer Peninsula and SouthShetland Islands. It connects the hazardous Drake Passage with the waters of the Weddell Sea – and it is a treacherous place. It was named in honor of Edward Bransfield, who, in 1820, took a small brig named the Williams into the waters which now bear his name. According to the British, Bransfield was thus the first man ever to set eyes on the Antarctic Continent.“

In the ninety-six years between the time of Bransfield’s discovery and that afternoon of April 9, 1916, when Shackleton’s men threaded their boats through the ice, precious little had been learned about conditions in these unfrequented waters. Even today, the U.S. Navy Department’s Sailing Directions for Antarctica, in describing conditions in Bransfield Strait, begins with an apologetic explanation that there is a “paucity” of information about the area.

‘It is believed,’ the Sailing Directions continue, that strong, erratic currents are to be found, sometimes reaching a velocity of 6 knots. These currents are affected only slightly by the wind, so that often a condition known to sailors as a ‘cross sea’ is set up – when the wind is blowing in one direction, and the current moving in another. At such times, angry hunks of water – 3, 6, 10 feet high –are heaved upwards, much as when breakers are thrown back from a bulkhead and collide with incoming waves.

Across sea is a perilous thing to a small boat.“Furthermore, the weather in Bransfield Strait is reliably inhospitable. Some reports say the sky is clear only 10 per cent of the time. Snows are heavy and gales are common, beginning in the middle of February and becoming more frequent and more violent as the Antarctic winter draws closer.

“The boats in which the party set sail upon this forbidding sea were sturdy enough, but no open boat was really equal to the voyage they faced…”(Lansing 142-143)

And so, with that inhospitable environment as their setting, the rowing began. Rowing, and rowing, and rowing. They rowed all afternoon the first day, and when day began to fade, they found a floe upon which to camp for the night.

But there wasn’t to be much rest.

Of Rogue Waves and Leadership XI – by Jodi Guerra

“’There is a psychological aspect to the question also…It will be much better for the men in general to feel that even though progress is slow they are on their way to land than it will be simply to sit down and wait for the tardy north-westerly drift to take usout of this cruel waste of ice. We will make an attempt to move.” (Morrell, 147)

And so they started the same hauling process again. This time the goal was to get to Paulet Island. This time they would march at night when the surface wasn’t so slushy. There were the same results:a few miles for a few days of effort. At their rate, it would take over 300 days to reach the island. Thislast exercise proved the point that sometimes you just have to wait. Isn’t that so hard to do sometimes? After he decided to end the march, Shackleton wrote,“Put footstep of courage into stirrup of patience.”How true.

There was one very unusual incident: a mutiny-Of course! McNeish, frustrated by the “tearing up”of the boats, bitter about his cat, refused to go on — citing the fact that Shackleton no longer had any authority over him. This scene is really dramatized well in the recent A&E movie Shackleton. So now they camped at Patience Camp. There really was nothing to do but wait until most of the ice had melted and they had drifted far enough north to launch the boats. So they were mostly wet and uncomfortable. Walking anywhere would get you wet. They had to sleep in damp, wet sleeping bags. Food was also starting to be a concern. How much longer could they last? Around the beginning of January, more game was sighted and things began to look up. But this was not to last. Nerves began to fray. McNeish wrote in his diary: “Hussey is at present tormenting [us] with his six known tunes on his banjo.”(Lansing, 104) Greenstreet wrote:

“The monotony of life here is getting on our nerves. Nothing to do, nowhere to walk, no change insurroundings, food or anything. God send us open water soon or we shall go balmy.” (Lansing 104)

Even with the killing of a leopard seal and a few of crab-eater seals, food was still low. Eventually some of the dogs had to be shot to conserve food. Finally, at the end of January 1916, some good news: bad weather! A gale was blowing them stronglyin the right direction: “’Wonderful, amazing splendid,’ Shackleton wrote. ‘Lat. 65-degrees43’ South – 73miles North drift. The most cheerful good fortune for a year for us: We cannot be much more than 170 miles from Paulet. Everyone greeted the news with cheers. The wind still continues. We may get another 10 miles out of it. Thank God. Drifting still all wet in the tents but no matter. Had bannock to celebrate North of the circle.’  The Antarctic Circle now lay nearly a full degree of latitude behind them.”(Lansing, 109)

But still they had to wait. Somehow food continued to be found when the straights were most desperate. Some seals, penguins were found and killed. And so they continued to wait. James, the physicist,wrote about their dilemma: “We make all kinds of theories based sometimes on what we see about us of ice conditions, but more of this is based on nothing at all. Can’t help thinking of “Theory of Relativity.’ Anyhow we have only a horizon of a few miles & the Weddell Sea is roughly 200,000 square miles [actually it is closer to 900,000 square miles]. A bug on asingle molecule of oxygen in a gale of wind would have about the same chance of predicting where he was likely to finish up.” (Lansing 116)

On March 23, land was sighted, but the ice still had not opened up. It was almost maddening. Theycould see it, but they couldn’t get there. What they most wanted, however, was some food. Greenstreet wrote: “It is nice to think there is something else besides snow and ice in the world, but I fail to see any cause for excitement as it puts us no nearer to getting out. What I would far rather see would be a crowd of seals coming up so that we might get food and fuel.”(Lansing, 124)

Nerves continued to fray.  At one point in the early morning after the mug of milk was served, Macklin and Clark began to have words:

“…Macklin turned on Clark for some feeble reason, and the two men were almost immediately shouting at one another. The tension spread to Orde-Lees and Worsley and triggered a blasphemous exchange between them. In the midst of it, Greenstreet upset his powdered milk. He whirled on Clark, cursing him for causing the accident because Clark had called his attention for a moment. Clark tried to protest, but Greenstreet shouted him down.“Then Greenstreet paused to get his breath, and in that instant his anger was spent and he suddenly fell silent. Everyone else in the tent became quiet, too, and looked at Greenstreet, shaggy-haired, bearded, and filthy with blubber soot, holding his empty mug in his hand and looking helplessly down into the snow that had thirstily soaked up his precious milk. The loss was so tragic he seemed almost on the point of weeping. “Without speaking, Clark reached out and poured some of his milk into Greenstreet’s mug. Then Worsley, then Macklin, and Rickenson and Kerr, Orde-Lees, and finally Blackboro. They finished in silence.” (Lansing, 127)