The Olympian Sisters #2 The Great War

Chapter 7

WEDDELL SEA DECEMBER 7 1915 "ENDURANCE"

I was 2 days out of South Georgia. From the rumors I'd been hearing about the ice, it sounded as though I would have to bash my way through a thousand miles, just to reach Vahsel Bay.

Then, I saw it. Through the foggy haze and mist there it was, the ice pack. It looked beautiful but my instinct told me that this ice was no friend of mine. I was eager to begin ice bashing but Shackleton told me to wait.

"We're way too far north." He told me. "I don't want to enter it here. It would mean we'd have to smash our way through 1500 miles of ice at least. And I don't want any more bashing than we can get. We'll skirt around for a while, see if we can find another way in." He said.

"Humph" was my response. Reluctantly, I skirted around the edge of the pack, heading east. I was looking for an open channel closer to the coast. The results weren't good. For a full day, I skirted around the ice, looking for a way in.

Finally, Shackleton decided to enter the pack. It was more open than where we first came across it. Happy to be moving south at last, I shoved some growlers aside at the edge.

They were harder than stone, but I barely noticed. My 7 foot thick keel and 4 foot thick bow and sides made quick work of the stuff. Soon enough, as I got further and further south, I had to push some big floes aside.

It was almost too easy. One hard push from my bow was enough to break the flow in two. It created an open lane of water that I could squeeze through.

All day, I pushed ice around. In a way, I kind of felt like a tank, pushing and shoving my weight around like it was nobody's business.

The men took the day in watches. 8 hours on, 16 hours off, all day, 24-7. The three watchmen were 1st officer Lionel Greenstreet, 2nd-in-command Frank Wild, and Captain and Sailing Master Frank Worsley.

Each watchman had his own way of moving me. Greenstreet liked to move in open lanes of water, nudging the bergs gently aside with my bow.

Wild could twist and turn through the maze of ice, finding open leads where no one thought possible.

Worsley thought it was great fun to back me up in an open lane of water and charge full ahead onto the floes, my hull shuddering with the impact, then back up again as the floe broke apart.

I liked Worsley's way the best. I liked to ram the floes, it was fun. But it got on Shackleton's nerves, so now he would monitor Worsley's floe ramming. Much to my disappointment.

We made progress and soon were farther south than anyone has ever been. We were at Latitude 76.270S, and there was a strip of land nearby. Shackleton named it Caird land, after the expedition's prime benefactor. "That'll make the old bugger happy." He said. I laughed.

"Then why don't you name all the new places after your benefactors." I asked. He grinned. "Too many for this land." He admitted. "Why not call that bay Wills Bay?" I wondered.

"Or that spit Docker Point?" He suggested. "You catch on fast." I told him. He shrugged.

We stopped to let the men lay some stores in the bay and then continued south. For the next few days I pushed through the ice towards my destination at Vahsel Bay.

But my progress was soon stopped, just a mere 60 miles north of the landing point or a full day's sail.

Shackleton ordered to heave to and I was anchored to the floe to wait and see if it would open up. It didn't, for several days we waited and it was then that I came to realize that I wasn't going anywhere.

I was "Frozen like an almond in a chocolate bar" according to Thomas Orde-Lees. "So much for progress." I muttered. "That's an understatement." Shackleton muttered back.

Like Belgica before me, I was beset in the ice and completely at the mercy of the Weddell Sea.