The Endurance_ Shackleton's Legendary Antarctic Expedition - Caroline Alexander [22]
[McIlroy:] (Dancing about in a most effusive way) “Yes sir, oh yes certainly sir, sardines sir, yes sir here they are (dashes to pantry and back) and bread sir, oh yes sir, bread sir, you shall have the night watch-man's bread sir.” (Another dash to the pantry and much groveling effusion and so on) “And may I black your boots sir,”…
A man checking an ice hole outside the ship Shackleton sent word back that he himself had been brought up to eat what was put in front of him.
Probably Clark, who persisted with dredging for specimens throughout the period on the ice.
In the fo'c'sle, the sailors spent a great deal of their time in their beds.
“They just sleep the time away as best they can and never seem to look for any occupation,” Lees wrote, disapprovingly. The sailors were exempt from night watch duties, and although they had to tend to their own quarters, they were not called upon to help out in the Ritz. Again, Shackleton's care was to ensure that no one in the lower deck had cause to feel aggrieved. There had been hints that they could be troublesome, principally on the issue of meals. Though seal and penguin meat were routinely served in the wardroom, grumbling resistance to this had arisen in the fo'c'sle on the grounds that serving seal, as opposed to costly tinned meat, was “a ——— cheap way of running the expedition.” But their prejudices were catered to only so far. The word came down from the fo'c'sle one afternoon that one of the sailors had not found the day's menu of Heinz Spaghetti in Tomato to his taste.
The night watchman's visitors
The night watchman's duties consisted of keeping alight the fires in the Ritz, upper-deck wardroom, fo'c'sle, and Shackleton's cabins, and keeping an eye on the dogs in the event that they “came adrift.” Above all, he was expected to watch for signs of change in the ice.
A glimpse in the fo'c'sle
Conjectured in background, How with ukulele, Stephenson beside him; around table (left to right), Holness, Vincent, Blackborow, McLeod.
Louis Rickinson and Alfred Kerr, the two engineers, were both so quiet and unassuming that their shipmates knew little about either of them, although both were admired for their efficiency and tidiness. Rickinson, who was in his thirties, was distinguished for his experience with internal combustion engines—and for being particularly sensitive to the cold. Kerr, who was a little over twenty, had worked on large oil tank steamers.
Possibly no one had less to do than the three men responsible for moving the Endurance forward. Frank Worsley, the captain, was now for all intents and purposes a man without a ship. Worsley was from an educated family of settlers who had come to New Zealand from England (his father had attended Rugby). He had grown up living the rugged, outdoor life of a pioneer, and at sixteen had followed his brother to sea, as an apprentice on a wool clipper. After coming up through the ranks of the merchant service, he eventually moved to England and joined the Royal Naval Reserve. Rambunctious and erratic, he was much like some of the high-spirited sledging dogs. One of the reasons Shackleton had reconsidered his plan to return the Endurance to safe haven over