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Endurance crushed by ice. |
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The captain of the ship, Frank Worsley, would remember the
day vividly ever afterward. It was July midwinter in Antarctica,
and the darkness of the long polar night had been upon them
for many weeks. The temperature was –30 degrees Fahrenheit,
and around the ship, extending to the horizon in all directions,
was a sea of ice, white and mysterious under the clear hard
stars. From time to time, the shriek of the wind outside broke
all conversation. Away in the distance, the ice would groan,
and Worsley and his two companions would listen to its ominous
voice as it travelled to them across the frozen miles. Sometimes,
the little ship would quiver and groan in response, her wooden
timbers straining as the pressure from millions of tons of
ice, set in motion by some faraway disturbance, at last reached
her resting place and nipped at her resilient sides. One of
the three men spoke. “She’s pretty near her end
. . . The ship can't live in this, Skipper. You had better
make up your mind that it is only a matter of time. It may
be a few months, and it may be only a question of weeks, or
even days . . . but what the ice gets, the ice keeps.”
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| Sir
Ernest Shackleton and crew. |
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The year was 1915. The speaker was Sir Ernest Shackleton, one
of the most renowned polar explorers of his day, and the third
man was Frank Wild, his second in-command. Their ship, Endurance,
was trapped at latitude 74 degrees south, deep in the frozen
waters of Antarctica’s Weddell Sea. Shackleton had been
intent on an ambitious mission; He and his men had traveled to
the south to claim one of the last remaining prizes in exploration,
the crossing on foot of the Antarctic continent.
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