As soon as I had left the island to get help for the rest of the Expedition, Wild set all hands to collect as many seals and penguins as possible, in case their stay was longer than was at first anticipated. A sudden rise in temperature caused a whole lot to go bad and become unfit for food, so while a fair reserve was kept in hand too much was not accumulated.
At first the meals, consisting mostly of seal meat with one hot drink per day, were cooked on a stove in the open. The snow and wind, besides making it very unpleasant for the cook, filled all the cooking pots with sand and grit, so during the winter the cooking was done inside the hut.
A little Cerebos salt had been saved, and this was issued out at the rate of three-quarters of an ounce per man per week. Some of the packets containing the salt had broken, so that all did not get the full ration. On the other hand, one man dropped his week’s ration on the floor of the hut, amongst the stones and dirt. It was quickly collected, and he found to his delight that he had enough now to last him for three weeks. Of course it was not
all
salt. The hot drink consisted at first of milk made from milk powder up to about one-quarter of its proper strength. This was later on diluted still more, and sometimes replaced by a drink made from a pea soup-like packing from the Bovril sledging rations. For midwinter’s day celebrations, a mixture of one teaspoonful of methylated spirit in a pint of hot water, flavored with a little ginger and sugar, served to remind some of cocktails and
Veuve Cliquot.
At breakfast each had a piece of seal or half a penguin breast. Luncheon consisted of one biscuit on three days a week, nut-food on Thursday, bits of blubber, from which most of the oil had been extracted for the lamps, on two days a week, and nothing on the remaining day. On this day breakfast consisted of a half-strength sledging ration. Supper was almost invariably seal and penguin, cut up very finely and fried with a little seal blubber.
There were occasionally very welcome variations from this menu. Some paddies—a little white bird not unlike a pigeon—were snared with a loop of string, and fried, with one water-sodden biscuit, for lunch. Enough barley and peas for one meal all round of each had been saved, and when this was issued it was a day of great celebration. Sometimes, by general consent, the luncheon biscuit would be saved, and, with the next serving of biscuit, was crushed in a canvas bag into a powder and boiled with a little sugar, making a very satisfying pudding. When blubber was fairly plentiful there was always a saucepan of cold water, made from melting down the pieces of ice which had broken off from the glacier, fallen into the sea, and been washed ashore, for them to quench their thirst in. As the experience of Arctic explorers tended to show that sea water produced a form of dysentery, Wild was rather diffident about using it. Penguin carcasses boiled in one pan of sea water to four of fresh were a great success though, and no ill effects were felt by anybody.
The ringed penguins migrated north the day after we landed at Cape Wild, and though every effort was made to secure as large a stock of meat and blubber as possible, by the end of the month the supply was so low that only one hot meal a day could be served. Twice the usual number of penguin steaks were cooked at breakfast, and the ones intended for supper were kept hot in the pots by wrapping up in coats, etc. “Clark put our saucepanful in his sleeping bag today to keep it hot, and it really was a great success in spite of the extra helping of reindeer hairs that it contained. In this way we can make ten penguin skins do for one day.”
Some who were fortunate enough to catch penguins with fairly large undigested fish in their gullets used to warm these up in tins hung on bits of wire round the stove.
“All the meat intended for hooshes is cut up inside the hut, as it is too cold outside. As the boards which we use for the purpose we also used for cutting up tobacco, when we still have it, a definite flavor is sometimes imparted to the hoosh, which, if anything, improves it.”
Their diet was now practically all meat, and not too much of that, and all the diaries bear witness to their craving for carbohydrates, such as flour, oatmeal, etc. One man longingly speaks of the cabbages which grow on Kerguelen Island. By June 18 there were only nine hundred lumps of sugar left, i.e. just over forty pieces each. Even my readers know what shortage of sugar means at this very date, but from a different cause. Under these circumstances it is not surprising that all their thoughts and conversation should turn to food, past and future banquets, and second helpings that had been once refused.
A census was taken, each man being asked to state just what he would like to eat at that moment if he were allowed to have anything that he wanted. All, with but one exception, desired a suet pudding of some sort—the “duff” beloved of sailors. Macklin asked for many returns of scrambled eggs on hot buttered toast. Several voted for “a prodigious Devonshire dumpling,” while Wild wished for “any old dumpling so long as it was a large one.” The craving for carbohydrates, such as flour and sugar, and for fats was very real. Marston had with him a small penny cookery book. From this he would read out one recipe each night, so as to make them last. This would be discussed very seriously, and alterations and improvements suggested, and then they would turn into their bags to dream of wonderful meals that they could never reach. The following conversation was recorded in one diary:
“WILD: ‘Do you like doughnuts?’
“MCILROY: ‘Rather!’
“WILD: ‘Very easily made, too. I like them cold with a little jam.’
“MCILROY: ‘Not bad; but how about a huge omelette?’
“WILD: ‘Fine!’ (with a deep sigh).
“Overhead, two of the sailors are discussing some extraordinary mixture of hash, applesauce, beer, and cheese. Marston is in his hammock reading from his penny cookery book. Further down, some one eulogizes Scotch shortbread. Several of the sailors are talking of spotted dog, sea pie, and Lockhart’s with great feeling. Someone mentions nut food, whereat the conversation becomes general, and we all decide to buy one pound’s worth of it as soon as we get to civilization, and retire to a country house to eat it undisturbed. At present we really mean it, too!”
Midwinter’s day, the great Polar festival, was duly observed. A “magnificent breakfast” of sledging ration hoosh, full strength and well boiled to thicken it, with hot milk was served. Luncheon consisted of a wonderful pudding, invented by Wild, made of powdered biscuit boiled with twelve pieces of mouldy nut food. Supper was a very finely cut seal hoosh flavored with sugar.
After supper they had a concert, accompanied by Hussey on his “indispensable banjo.” This banjo was the last thing to be saved off the ship before she sank, and I took it with us as a mental tonic. It was carried all the way through with us, and landed on Elephant Island practically unharmed, and did much to keep the men cheerful. Nearly every Saturday night such a concert was held, when each one sang a song about some other member of the party. If that other one objected to some of the remarks, a worse one was written for the next week.
The cook, who had carried on so well and for so long, was given a rest on August 9, and each man took it in turns to be cook for one week. As the cook and his “mate” had the privilege of scraping out the saucepans, there was some anxiety to secure the job, especially amongst those with the larger appetites. “The last of the methylated spirit was drunk on August 12, and from then onwards the King’s health, ‘sweethearts and wives,’ and ‘the Boss and crew of the
Caird,
’ were drunk in hot water and ginger every Saturday night.”
The penguins and seals which had migrated north at the beginning of winter had not yet returned, or else the ice foot, which surrounded the spit to a thickness of six feet, prevented them from coming ashore, so that food was getting short. Old seal bones, that had been used once for a meal and then thrown away, were dug up and stewed down with sea water. Penguin carcasses were treated likewise. Limpets were gathered from the pools disclosed between the rocks below high tide, after the pack-ice had been driven away. It was a cold job gathering these little shellfish, as for each one the whole hand and arm had to be plunged into the icy water, and many score of these small creatures had to be collected to make anything of a meal. Seaweed boiled in sea water was used to eke out the rapidly diminishing stock of seal and penguin meat. This did not agree with some of the party. Though it was acknowledged to be very tasty it only served to increase their appetite—a serious thing when there was nothing to satisfy it with! One man remarked in his diary: “We had a sumptuous meal today—nearly five ounces of solid food each.”
It is largely due to Wild, and to his energy, initiative, and resource, that the whole party kept cheerful all along, and, indeed, came out alive and so well. Assisted by the two surgeons, Drs. McIlroy and Macklin, he had ever a watchful eye for the health of each one. His cheery optimism never failed, even when food was very short and the prospect of relief seemed remote. Each one in his diary speaks with admiration of him. I think without doubt that all the party who were stranded on Elephant Island owe their lives to him. The demons of depression could find no foothold when he was around; and, not content with merely “telling,” he was “doing” as much as, and very often more than, the rest. He showed wonderful capabilities of leadership and more than justified the absolute confidence that I placed in him. Hussey, with his cheeriness and his banjo, was another vital factor in chasing away any tendency to downheartedness.
Once they were settled in their hut, the health of the party was quite good. Of course, they were all a bit weak, some were lightheaded, all were frostbitten, and others, later, had attacks of heart failure. Blackborrow, whose toes were so badly frostbitten in the boats, had to have all five amputated while on the island. With insufficient instruments and no proper means of sterilizing them, the operation, carried out as it was in a dark, grimy hut, with only a blubber stove to keep up the temperature and with an outside temperature well below freezing, speaks volumes for the skill and initiative of the surgeons. I am glad to be able to say that the operation was very successful, and after a little treatment ashore, very kindly given by the Chilean doctors at Punta Arenas, he has now completely recovered and walks with only a slight limp. Hudson, who developed bronchitis and hip disease, was practically well again when the party was rescued. All trace of the severe frostbites suffered in the boat journey had disappeared, though traces of recent superficial ones remained on some. All were naturally weak when rescued, owing to having been on such scanty rations for so long, but all were alive and very cheerful, thanks to Frank Wild.
August 30, 1916, is described in their diaries as a “day of wonders.” Food was very short, only two days’ seal and penguin meat being left, and no prospect of any more arriving. The whole party had been collecting limpets and seaweed to eat with the stewed seal bones. Lunch was being served by Wild, Hurley and Marston waiting outside to take a last long look at the direction from which they expected the ship to arrive. From a fortnight after I had left, Wild would roll up his sleeping bag each day with the remark, “Get your things ready, boys, the Boss may come today.” And sure enough, one day the mist opened and revealed the ship for which they had been waiting and longing and hoping for over four months. “Marston was the first to notice it, and immediately yelled out ‘Ship O!’ The inmates of the hut mistook it for a call of ‘Lunch O!’ so took no notice at first. Soon, however, we heard him pattering along the snow as fast as he could run, and in a gasping, anxious voice, hoarse with excitement, he shouted, ‘Wild, there’s a ship! Hadn’t we better light a flare?’ We all made one dive for our narrow door. Those who could not get through tore down the canvas walls in their hurry and excitement. The hoosh pot with our precious limpets and seaweed was kicked over in the rush. There, just rounding the island which had previously hidden her from our sight, we saw a little ship flying the Chilean flag.
“We tried to cheer, but excitement had gripped our vocal cords. Macklin had made a rush for the flagstaff, previously placed in the most conspicuous position on the ice slope. The running gear would not work, and the flag was frozen into a solid, compact mass; so he tied his jersey to the top of the pole for a signal.
“Wild put a pick through our last remaining tin of petrol, and soaking coats, mitts, and socks with it, carried them to the top of Penguin Hill at the end of our spit, and soon they were ablaze.
“Meanwhile most of us had gathered on the foreshore watching with anxious eyes for any signs that the ship had seen us, or for any answering signals. As we stood and gazed she seemed to turn away as if she had not seen us. Again and again we cheered, though our feeble cries could certainly not have carried so far. Suddenly she stopped, a boat was lowered, and we could recognize Sir Ernest’s figure as he climbed down the ladder. Simultaneously we burst into a cheer, and then one said to the other, ‘Thank God, the Boss is safe.’ For I think that his safety was of more concern to us than was our own.
“Soon the boat approached near enough for the Boss, who was standing up in the bows, to shout to Wild, ‘Are you all well?’ To which he replied, ‘All safe, all well,’ and we could see a smile light up the Boss’s face as he said, ‘Thank God!’
“Before he could land he threw ashore handsful of cigarettes and tobacco; and these the smokers, who for two months had been trying to find solace in such substitutes as seaweed, finely chopped pipe bowls, seal meat, and sennegrass, grasped greedily.
“Blackborrow, who could not walk, had been carried to a high rock and propped up in his sleeping bag, so that he could view the wonderful scene.
“Soon we were tumbling into the boat, and the Chilean sailors, laughing up at us, seemed as pleased at our rescue as we were. Twice more the boat returned, and within an hour of our first having sighted the boat we were heading northwards to the outer world from which we had had no news since October 1914, over twenty-two months before. We are like men awakened from a long sleep. We are trying to acquire suddenly the perspective which the rest of the world has acquired gradually through two years of war. There are many events which have happened of which we shall never know.