Endurance: Shackleton's Incredible Voyage

Of the plethora of dangers during the trip to South Georgia, the presence of ice— particularly at night—is the most daunting. Blessed with calm seas for the first 48 hours, the crew is subsequently tortured by a number of disasters. They are constantly sprayed with water, varying from a fine frozen mist to enormous, freezing, solid waves that fill the entire boat. Bailing out the boat requires moving hundreds of pounds of rocks that have been loaded to serve as ballast, and the boat pump requires constant manual operation. The woolen clothing and reindeer skin boots worn by all the men are intended to keep them warm in “intense, dry cold—not on board a pitching, spray-drenched boat” (282). These garments serve as wicks that soak up the icy water and retain it, thereby chilling the men constantly. 

On April 26, the men reach the Drake Passage, “the most dreaded bit of ocean on the globe” (284). The passage is replete with hurricane winds and 90-foot waves that reach 55 miles per hour. The Caird is lifted high up into the face of oncoming waves and then caught up in foam and pushed forward into another one. The crew is in a frozen, numbed state and comes to consider cold, wet conditions to be normal. By April 28, both the men’s physical condition and that of their equipment are deteriorating. All crewmembers exhibit puffy, dead white legs, ankles, and feet due to lack of exercise and the perpetually wet conditions. Captain Worsley’s navigational guides are soaked and have to be almost surgically excised when he has cause to open them up. By April 29, the sodden, exhausted, frozen men have covered 238 miles, “almost one-third of the way” to Elephant Island (289).

The voyage continues to exhibit nightmarish qualities; the temperature drops close to zero, and 60-knot gales cause the Caird to take on water and ice up. Shackleton, despite misgivings, orders the sea anchor dropped. This device is to be dragged behind the ship in order to keep the bow pointed up into the waves. While this improves the immediate situation, the boat starts to heave sideways and be violently jerked with each new wave. The sails collect ice and freeze while the boat lurches wildly. The crew spends the night chipping ice off the interior and exterior of the boat in order to restore its buoyancy while the men are buffeted by winds and unable to stand upright.

An unexpected source of consternation is found in the reindeer hairs. The hairs molt from the inside of the sleeping bags and adhere to the men’s wet faces, hands, and food. The men choke on them while trying to breathe, and the hairs also clog up the pump. Additionally, the hair in the sleeping bag linings has started to rot and smells like rancid meat.

On May 2, the boat endures the third consecutive day of the gale. The Caird is carried to the top of an especially high sea but does not restore itself to a balanced position. Upon closer examination, it is found that the sea anchor is gone.

The large chunk of ice in which the sea anchor was encased has been shaken loose by violent waves, taking the sea anchor with it. The men raise the frozen sail and free the rigging from the ice. Without the sea anchor, the Caird sails with its bow partially buried in the oncoming waves. During the afternoon, an enormous wandering albatross appears, riding the gale winds with grace and precision; the irony of its comparison to the boat’s struggles is not lost upon the men. The weather improves over the course of May 3, along with the spirits of the crew. Worsley’s calculations show that they are more than halfway to South Georgia. The Caird, a beaten, patched, 22-foot-long wooden boat, is being manned by six sodden men with frostbite and saltwater boils; remarkably, however, their spirits are still “relaxed, even faintly jovial” (299). 

On May 4, the crew is somewhat dried out and feeling more confident. Shackleton takes the helm at midnight and observes what appears to be a clearing in the sky. In actuality, they are entering the crest of an enormous wave, accompanied by what is perceived as a muted roar. The Caird feels as though it has been thrown into the air. For a short time, the crew, engulfed by water, is unsure as to whether the boat remains upright, but somehow it has. The crew bails out water; the ballast has shifted position and the compass glass has broken, but they have endured.

May 6 finds the men trying to sail northeasterly but being buffeted by northwesterly winds. Worsley determines that they are a mere 91 miles from the island of South Georgia, but the sea starts to rise in enormous waves. Despite Worsley’s protestations, Shackleton gives the order to drop the sail. The emotional strain experienced by Shackleton manifests itself when he becomes enraged by the appearance of an annoying small bird who lands on the boat; Shackleton begins “swearing and batting furiously at the bird” (304). Ashamed of his poor example to the men, Shackleton then reverts to his usual, composed form. 

A second cask of drinking water is opened and found to be fouled by sea water, in addition to the fact that half the volume of the cask had leaked out. Nonetheless, the men are forced to consume it. They must land before they deplete their one-week supply of now-brackish drinking water. One small navigational error represents the difference between life and death; if they miss South Georgia, there are no other land masses prior to South Africa, a distance of 3,000 miles. 

Shackleton announces that food and water consumption must be cut in order to preserve stores. All hands crowd the helm for hours in the hope of sighting the island. When the fog finally clears, Seaman McCarthy calls out “Land!” and the crew sees a black cliff about 10 miles away.

Shackleton sums up the situation succinctly, stating, “We’ve done it” (311). Worsley sketches an outline of the landmass and compares it with the navigational charts; it is revealed that “his navigation had been very nearly faultless” (311). The situation changes abruptly when the men hear the approach of enormous breakers letting out occasional spouts of spray, denying them the sanctuary of landing on the island. While the land is only two miles away at three o’clock, it is impossible to land due to gale-force winds and storms. Conditions prevail through May 9, which dawns so darkly that the night sky merely gives way to grayness, and the boat sustains waves 40 feet in height. Worsley realizes that the boat is far too close to the breakers, and they try to move offshore without success. The men work trying to shift ballast in order to stabilize the boat while “solid water [is] flung over the masthead […] and her bow planks open[] up and little lines of water squirt[] in through the seams” (316). 

Nevertheless, the ship is making headway and the men see a craggy peak in the distance. The ship continues on its perilous course of being hammered by enormous waves, yet somehow remains afloat. The remaining obstacle, “Mislaid Rock,” must be avoided prior to landing, although the gale has now diminished. By 4:00 pm, the Caird is able to sail directly through the oncoming winds toward the island. The Caird “[rises] up on a swell and her keel [grinds] against the rocks” (321). At 5:00 pm on May 10, 1916, the men are “standing at last on the island from which they had sailed 522 days before” (321). A stream of fresh glacial water babbles nearby, and the men fall to their knees to drink.