From Edinburgh to the Antarctic. An artist’s notes and sketches during the Dundee Antarctic Expedition of 1892-93

W. G. BURN MURDOCH 


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MELIIAS 


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PRO} DINBURGH TO 
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FROM - EDINBURGH TO 


THE ANTARCTIC 


An Artist's Notes and Sketches during 
the Dundee Antarctic Expedition of 
1892-93 


BY W. G BURN MURDOCH 


WITH A CHAPTER BY W. S: BRUCE 


NATURALIST OF THE BARQUE ‘BALANA’ 


LONDON 
LONGMANS, GREEN AND CoO. 


AND NEW YORK: 15 EAST I6TH STREET 


1894 


[AZ rights reserved] 


Edinburgh: T. and A. ConsTas_e, Printers to Her Majesty 


TO 
Cc. J. LONGMAN 
WITH THE AUTHOR’S 


BEST WISHES 


« 


CORNET EH NaS 


(CISUE INIA IL 


PAGE 
Written in the North-East Trades, recalling our departure from Edin- 
burgh and the University Hall, . : : : ? : * I 
CHAPTER II 
In Dundee we sign Articles as Assistant-Surgeon on the Barque 
Balena, bound for the Antarctic and the Adjacent Seas—We 
bid farewell to Dundee and sail North to make the Atlantic by 
the Pentland Firth, . : : : : ‘: : : 14 
CHARTERS S0DL 
A Short Account of the, Origin and Objects of the Dundee Antarctic 
~ Expedition—We have a long spell of Heavy Weather in the 
orth Atlantic, . : * 5 F . : : : : 23 
CHAPTER IV 
Further Notes during the Bad Weather, . F : 3 ; Z 37 
CHAPTER V 
Fine Weather at Sea—Life on a Sailing Vessel—Artist’s Impressions— 
Sailors—Sailors’ Songs—Willie Watson, . ; ° Fi 4 42 


(CIBVAIPINIBIR. WWII 


Old Horse Day—Song, ‘The Dead Horse,’ : 5 : 4 74 


vii 


vill CONTENTS 


CHAPTER VII 


An Account of how Two Boys came to Stow away in the Salena, 
written by one of them—Hot Weather and Blue Seas, 


CHAPTER VIII 


We run into the North-East Trades—Fishing Bonita—In the Dol- 
drums—Heat, Calms, and Squalls—Yarns, 


CHAPTER Ix . 


We Cross the Line—Neptune comes on Board—A Great Function— 
Full description of the Actors and Ceremony—‘ Ships that pass 
in the Night’—Our Day at Sea—Pleasure and slight Discomforts, 


CHAPTER X 


A Tropical Storm—Grey Sea south of Line—Sea-bird Life south of 
the Line—Fishing Petrels—The Albatross—Stormy Weather in 
the Forties—Ossian, . 


GHAPRTER, XI 


Albatross Fishing—The Ship’s Dog—Gales again—The Doctor visits 
a vessel in Mid-Atlantic—‘ A Girl with a Blite Dress on’—Heavy 
Seas—Whales—Strong Gales in the Forties, 


CHAPTER XII 


Changeable Weather—Yarns about Bears--We approach the Falk- 
land Islands—The Watch below—Charlie spins his Yarn, 


CHAPTER XIII 


The Falkland Islands—Port Stanley—Birds—On Shore again—A 
Colonial Store and Bar—We go shooting Specimens—The Bag- 
pipes—We stop a Night on Shore with a Family—Notes on the 
Islands—Trout, People, etc.—Government House—Sir Rodger 
Tuckworth Goldsworthy—The Dr. and the Upland Goose— 
Wild Duck—Sea Fishing—Malvina—Interior of an Old Colonial 
Farm House—Men of the Islands—The Climate—A Gold Digger 
from ‘the Coast,’ 


PAGE 


79 


89 


100 


120 


130 


146 


164 


CONTENTS 


1x 


CHAPTER XIV 


Leave the Falklands—The want of proper Pilotage—A Scurvy Ship 
—On our way South again—A Glimpse of the Polar World— 
Whales—Fog and Icebergs—The First Blood—The Crow’s Nest 
—The Edge of the Antarctic Ice—‘ He’s a Bowhead !’—Ice of all 
kinds—Colouring—Bergs and Mist—Mist and Bergs—South 
Shetland—‘ A Sail!’—Bergs to Port, to Starboard, Ahead, 
Astern—A Gale—Berg Thirty Miles long—Swell on the Pack 
Edge—A Berg breaking up—Land !—White Seals—Penguins— 
Meet our Consorts Dzaza and Active in Erebus and Terror Gulf, 


CHAPTER XV 


Christmas Eve in the Antarctic Ice, . 


CHAPTER XVI 


Christmas Day—Meet Dr. Donald of the Actéve—Sealing—Large 
Black Seals—In the Engine-Room—Antarctic Fossils—A Visit 
from Captain Larsen of the /asoz—Sealing, 


CHAPTER XVII 


The Pack-ice that barred the progress of Ross’s Sailing Vessels— 
Approximate Cost of an Exploring Expedition to the Antarctic— 
The Active Whale—Sealing in Mist—The Norwegians celebrate 
their King’s Birthday—Vive Napoleon !—Whalers’ opinion on 
Nansen’s Expedition—In the Norwegian Focsle—Fog, Wind, 
Snow, Gale—Seals—A long Day in the Boats—Seals on a Berg 
—Sunshine and Gales—A Gale amongst the Bergs—A Bad Night 
—A Calm Evening in the Ice—A Mirage—A Yarn from the 
Arctic—Jammed in the Pack—Roughing it in the Ice—Old 
Junk—The Doctor’s Hair Restorer—Various Incidents, 


CHAPTER XVIII 


Off to the North again—Open Sea—In the Engine-Room—Notes on 
Matrimony—The South Shetlands—Out of the Polar World— 
Cape Horn Sea—Jock Harvey Yarns—The Falklands again, 


CHAPTER XIX. By W. S. BRUCE, NaturaList oN THE 
‘“BALANA,’ 


PAGE 


19 


232 


269 


337 


349 


MAPS 


CHART SHOWING TRACK OF THE S.S. BALAINA, 


SKETCH CHART OF SOUTH ORKNEYS, SOUTH 
SHETLANDS, Etc., 


at end of book 


at page 


349 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE 


ANTARCTIC 
CHAPTER I 
Barque Balena, 
oe N.E. Trades. ff 


Atlantic, 
¢ 


FTER all, life is not 
mes so bad. I had come 
to the conclusion that 
it is all vanity and 
vexation of spirit; but 
time ago—nearly six weeks now. 


all on board the Balena, from the 


that is a long 

At that time 
skipper to the stowaway, expressed the same gloomy 
opinion of life at sea. ‘Who would sell a farm and go to 
sea?’ was the most poetical rendering of the common 
plaint in the cabin. ‘Wish a blasted sea would jolly well 
clear us out,’ was what Jack in his wet clothes was growling 
in the flooded focsle—We were very miserable! We 
ought to have had a little fine weather for a new enterprise 
like ours, but the very worst was served out to us; and 
when we had made the best of that, and had begun to 
think our troubles were over, down came another gale 
on us, worse, if possible, than the one before. Three 


weeks we lay somewhere off the N.W. of Ireland—where, 
A 


2 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


exactly, nobody knew, for the sun only winked at us once 
or twice. 

At one time we drove north almost on to St. Kilda; 
at another we were nearly as far west as Rockall, a 
most objectionable rock rising out in the N.W. Atlantic. 
The reader perhaps has never heard of it: I certainly 
never had, and do not wish ever to be near it again. 
Some of our crew had made its acquaintapce before, 
and survived. They still spoke of it with hushed voices, 
and open, fearful eyes. On a black winter night they 
had driven on to it. All hands were saved; but the 
only passenger, an elderly spinster, was drowned in her 
cabin! She was said to be coming home with a fortune 
in specie—the skipper, they told me, never went to sea 
again, but lived on shore and built himself a splendid 
house. 

But these evil days are past now: we are well into the 
warm weather, and the N.E. trades send us steadily 
southwards. Porpoises plunge round our bows, and blue 
flying-fish with gossamer, dragon-fly wings skip over the 
sunny waves. If the old pessimist who discoursed so 
wisely of the vanities were swinging alongside here in the 
hammock, he would agree that a bundle of cigarettes 
would make life perfect. , 

Here it occurs to me that I have begun this log, or 
narrative, or whatever it may be called, in an un- 
orthodox manner. From a number of volumes I have 
with me, it appears that the way to begin a book of 
travel is to give first the reasons that induced the 


author to leave his native shores, then detailed accounts 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 3 


of what stores and provisions he laid in, and so on. 
Such matter may be of service to future travellers, and it 
has the immediate advantage of filling up the first chapter. 
With this latter object in view, I shall explain at some 
length how I come to be writing notes on the heaving 
bosom of the Atlantic instead of drawing pictures at home. 

The writer ought to be drawing in Edinburgh, but that 
became impossible last August; for the British Associa- 
tion met there, and the people of the University Summer 
Session gathered from the four corners of the world and 
brought with them a fever of intellectual life. Even in 
its outward aspect the town became affected by the influx 
of wise men and women, and the lonely men in the club 
windows looked down on a strange and unfamiliar people : 
blue-veiled Americans, dainty French ladies, festive pro- 
fessors, and blue-stockings crowded the streets where 
were wont to pace tall Edinburgh beauties and impressive 
advocates. Up the,Castle Hill the intellectual contagion 
spread, till the artists and students in the highest, quietest 
rooms of the University Hall were infected, and could no 
longer do their own work, but went foolishly listening to 
others. 

For months past I had been designing a huge frieze of 
our Scotch kings on white horses, jogging along in a row, 
with great men walking beside them on foot. Through 
winter and spring I worked hard, and drew all day and 
read old chronicles at night, and the work went on 
apace. Duncan the Mild and the long line of the children 
of Banquo had passed in procession ; and James the Sixth 


‘stopped the way,’ when the intellectual carnival began. 


4 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


For the life of me he would not look the least kingly 
or move on an inch. Just when I was desperate with 
efforts to work through the distractions of the Summer 
Session, came my friend Bruce—an old resident in the 
Hall—saying, ‘I’m off to the Antarctic as naturalist and 
surgeon on the Dundee Antarctic Expedition—will you 
come?’ And I said ‘Yes.’ 

Five minutes after coming to this decision.a hundred 
and one unanswerable arguments occurred to me in favour 
of it. I remembered how it had always been my intention 
to see the polar regions ; how, even in nursery days, when 
we listened to Fast zu the Ice, 1 had vowed to bring home 
white bear-skins to the gentle reader. Such a chance as 
this might never occur again, I argued, and it is right to 
see the wonders of the world abroad before one grows 
old ; besides, the frieze would undoubtedly benefit greatly 
by being laid aside for a time. 

Bruce told me he had heard there was a berth to be 
had on the Balaena, the vessel he was going on, so we 
straightway wrote to the shipping agent to engage it, and 
waited as patiently as possible for the answer. 

Great was my disgust, after waiting for several days, 
to hear that there was no berth, not even one foot of 
spare room on any of the ships, and that therefore the 
Company could not possibly take a passenger. The situa- 
tion was distinctly unpleasant: half of my acquaintances 
had heard of my intention of going south, and, if I did 
not go, there was the horrible prospect of meeting people 
for months to come who would make continual inquiries 


as to when I intended to start for the North Pole. 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 5 


Aren’t you glad you didn’t go? and Don’t you think 
you are much better where you are? It would be better, 
I thought, to sign before the mast than undergo this 
torture. 

The Balzena was to sail in about a week from the day 
on which I received the agent’s letter, so there was little 
time to try and put matters right. However, I wrote 
immediately to some friends who took a keen interest in 
the scientific prospects of the venture, and who were also 
good enough to believe that my drawings in the southern 
latitudes would be of value to science, and prayed them 
to exert their influence in my behalf, and next morning 
went through to Dundee to try and alter the agent’s 
decision. 

Once at Dundee, there is no difficulty in finding the 
whalers. All Dundonians, from the small boys to the big 
shareholders, take a proud interest in them. I asked a 
policeman to direct,me to the whaling Company’s office ; 
fortunately he could speak pure Scotch—the natives use 
a patois of their own—‘Ower yonder, East Whale Lane,’ 
he said, lifting a leg-of-mutton fist in the direction of a 
blank wall, ‘jist gang straicht forrart. So I went 
‘straicht forrart,’ meditating as | went on the melodious 
tones of my native Doric. It was a very narrow lane 
running up from the docks between two high walls, and 
there was no mistake about its being Whale Lane, the 
very air was greasy, and the kerbstones were black 
and oily. There was but one big doorway in the 
lane: I opened it, and found myself in a yard littered 


with casks and whale-boats and ship’s-gear, and beyond 


6 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


this impedimenta was the office. It was a quaint little 
place, not at all the sort of place one associates with 
well-to-do shipping concerns. Round the walls were a few 
maps, mostly of the Arctic regions, much soiled by many 
voyages of skippers’ fingers. A pile of rusty, greasy rifles, 
mostly old Henrys, leant against the counter, and in the 
far corner of the room was a collection of whaling-gear 
and old ledgers. The agent himself was a pleasant, 
bright little business man, full of interest in the expedi- 
tion, and I suppose as well informed about Arctic matters 
as any of his ships’ masters. He seemed willing enough 
to take a passenger; but the objection remained that 
there was not an inch of room to spare on the Balzena, or 
in any other of the three ships. However, his advice was 
to go down to the docks and have a look round the ships 
myself. So off I went, and found the Balana—she had 
just returned from somewhere beyond 80 north, and as 
she lay in the dry dock, her iron-wgod lining could be 
seen right down to the keel, scarred with long ragged 
furrows, which told of late encounters with the ice. The 
first impression was rather disappointing. Everything 
about the vessel was in hopeless disorder: aloft, stays were 
slack, halyards and braces dangled anyhow, and from 
stem to stern her decks were littered with blocks and 
tackles, cables and anchors, coal-bags, spare spars, boats, 
and all sorts of ship’s-gear. 

On board I found that what the agent had said was 
quite the case,—every spare corner was filled with stores. 
The only untenanted bunk was a place about the size 


of a chest of drawers, next the surgeon’s berth, and this 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 7 


was full of tubs and tinned-meat cans. If it had not 
been for these wretched tubs and things, I was told, I 
would have been welcome to stow away there, but there 
was absolutely nowhere else to put them. This was 
poor comfort, and I returned to Edinburgh in a very low 
state of mind, and for two or three days laboured at my 
frieze, avoided the face of man, and vainly tried to forget 
my Antarctic castle in the air. That was impossible. 
Bruce was camped in my quarters, and his preparations 
for the voyage made me think of the tumbling seas and 
glittering green bergs instead of dusty old memories of 
dead kings. 

Just three days before the Baleena sailed I went through 
to Dundee to see for the last time whether a berth could 
not be found on one of the ships. The master of the 
Balzna was not on board, so I went to the other ships 
to find if there was still a berth to be had before the mast. 
There was apparently plenty of room there, as it seemed 
that it was hard to get hands for the Antarctic, though 
there were numbers ready for the Arctic. Before signing the 
articles I determined to pay one more visit to the Balzna, 
and this time the result was satisfactory ; for at last I was 
told that the bunk beside the doctor’s was mine if he could 
put me up in his cabin for the first week at sea—after 
that week the bunk would be cleared of the stores that 
were then in it. I could scarcely believe my good fortune 
—how I hugged myself as I trained home that evening! 
The other passengers in the carriage must have wondered 
what on earth could make the opposite party look so 
happy. A pretty French donne, in charge of two children, 


8 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


found me beaming vaguely at her corner of the carriage 
as we came out of a tunnel, and smiled bewitchingly ; 
the children laughed because she laughed; and an old 
gentleman laughed at the children. The mother looked 
icy daggers at me, but what did I care! I could have 
shaken hands all round, and kissed the—children. 

The rose-leaf in my happiness was that I knew Bruce 
was so utterly good-natured that he would never dream of 
refusing to put me up. How I rushed from the Waverley 
up the Mound five steps in the stride! Bruce was seated 
amongst his baggage—coat off—hair on end, utterly dis- 
tracted between lists of packages and the finances of 
the Summer Gathering. I put my case before him as he 
sat there, knowing well what his reply would be: ‘Why, 
of course I’ll put you up, he cried. ‘Man, I’ll put you 
up for the whole voyage—there’s heaps of room in my 
berth. Was there ever such generosity! The berth was 
about the size of a rabbit-hutch, and into this he had 
to cram scientific instruments, specimen bottles, camera, 
clothes, and half a doctor’s stock-in-trade. . . . That was 
settled, and we shook hands over the rampart of baggage, 
and no more packing was done that night, but we rested 
and went down to the club and drank whiskies-and-sodas 
to the success of our voyage. We could look with pity 
on the poor lawyer-fellows, bound to their desks with 
golden fetters. They may have the best of it in the long- 
run, those steady men; but we did not envy them that 
evening, and the moon never winked down on _jollier 
Bohemians than on us two, as we climbed the Mound, 


arm-in-arm, in the small hours of the morning. 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 9 


We had strict injunctions to be on board the Balena 
by mid-day on the following Monday, which left me only 
two days to get my kit together—a short time considering 
that all my baggage, guns, and artistic properties were 
distributed all over the town ; but it was time enough, and 
if it had not been limited, I could easily have spent a 
fortnight collecting baggage, with the result that I would 
have broyght a lot of unnecessary things. 

We had been advised by Arctic men to bring our 
oldest clothes; but I had no time to make any selections 
—simply bundled what lay nearest into a box and bag, 
and was ready in no time as regards covering. But laying 
in a fresh stock of painting and drawing materials took 
a lot of time, for it was difficult to form any estimate of 
how much one would be able to use in these unknown 
parts. There was the same difficulty about ammunition. 
I had not the least idea whether I might use a few 
hundred cartridgeg, or thousands, so I laid in a supply of 
about one thousand, of different sizes of shot, and took a 
re-loading and capping machine. A Henry express and 
a rook-rifle made up my armament. The rifles would 
have been as well left at home, for there are plenty of 
old Henrys on board, and shot guns as well. 

On Saturday evening we heard from the agent that the 
date of sailing was postponed from Monday till the fol- 
lowing Wednesday, owing to the difficulty in getting 
hands to sign articles. Though we were both ready to 
start on Monday, the reprieve of two days was welcome 
to both of us, as it gave us time to make a few more 


preparations, and scribble some hasty P.P.C.’s. I sent 


10 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


post-cards, simply illustrated in the style of Phil May or 
the early cave dwellers. Informal, perhaps, but expres- 
sive enough, I fancy. 


Then we bade farewell to some of our friends of the 
Summer Course, who still lingered at Riddle’s Court. 
This Riddle’s Court, from which the Doctor and I make 
our departure for the Antarctic, is quite the centre of the 
world. There may be those who do not know of it: I 
would refer all such to the old city records of Edinburgh ; 
there they will find how ‘the huise was biggit by ane 
worthie Bailie M‘Morran, who met his death at the 
hands of a schoolboy, St. Clair of that ilk, who led his 
school-fellows in the first recorded lock-out, and who fired 
a cannon from the High School roof, so that the ball struck 
the bailie in the ‘wameis’ so sorely that he died on the 
spot. That was long ago in the sixteenth century, when the 
times were lively. Since then Professor Patrick Geddes 
brought it to light, and tore the newspapers off the groined 
ceilings and the panelled walls, furnished it, and made 
it one of the University Halls. Now it is to Edinburgh 


what the Plantin is to Antwerp, and people come from 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC II 


distant lands to look at it, and wonder at the skill of the 
old builders ; and the city guides tell them curious, untrue 
tales of the people who once lived init. One of the guides, 
a M‘Kay—an old, bent man, with a long, white beard— 
interests me more than the others, he takes such a kind, 
paternal interest in each of the tourists he brings to see 
the place, and his grand, proprietorial air makes one think 
the house belongs to him. Whenever I hear the familiar 
click of his stick coming into the small court I listen with 
all my ears. First he tirls the pin on the oak door, and 
insists on his charges doing the same; then he points out 
the very spot where the bailie breathed his last, and tells 
how the old worthy entertained Bonnie Prince Charlie 
and Queen Mary at right royal entertainments. ‘Ye’ll 
hae heard tell o’ Mary Queen o’ Scots, he says, ‘her as 
was beheided by Queen ’Liz’beth?’ ‘Ou ay, we ken a’ 
aboot the jade,’ say the country cousins ; and ‘I guess so,’ 
say the Murricans :,they have, in all probability, just bought 
a pretty picture of her in Princes Street, and ‘it is vury like, 
indeed,’ American tourists buy thousands of these photos, 
always from the picture which represents Queen Mary a 
pretty, sentimental girl of twenty, in black velvet, with a 
ruff and prayer-book—and a block in the distance. They 
do not think the portraits of a middle-aged, broken queen 
are at all like. Then the old man unbends his back and 
points up with his stick to a plaster bust of Socrates that 
a man of unclassical tastes put out in a niche, because 
there was no place for it in his room. ‘Yonder,’ he says, 
‘is the image o’ Bailie M‘Morran hi’sel’; it’s said to be 


jist a wonerfw’ guid likeness, and the tourists look up 


12 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


open-mouthed at the rain- and soot-streaked ancient, and 
wonder where the sounds of laughter come from. ‘Ou, 
it’s jist they daft student laddies,’ says M‘Kay; and he 
tells his charges as they go on to the next show-place of 
the queer ways of the men of the Hall. 

I have made a sketch of one of the rooms as [ last saw 
it. It ought to form a contrast to the drawings I may 
make in the Antarctic. It was done in the,tail of a 


N.W. gale, with everything pitching about, so much 


allowance may be made for it. The ladies in the sketch, 


I ought to say, are the students who come in August 
to sit at the feet of Professor Geddes, and who turn us 
poor men out of Riddle’s Court to find shelter in some 
of the other Halls. 

The parting with our friends that evening was quite 
touching ; some sorrowed because they could not come 


with us, and a few that we were so foolish as to venture 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 13 


on such an expedition from which we would never come 
back,—the hardships would be far too great for us,—they 
knew. 

Such forebodings gave our prospects quite an artificial 
zest, and consequently I felt bound to make arrangements 
against every possible misfortune. To a skilful artist of 
Dundee I intrusted the finishing of the frieze, and made 
arrangemgnts for the payments of all legal debts, and 
with a voice that perhaps betrayed the depth of my 
emotion, asked a friend to take care of my watch.— 
Dear old turnip,—my only heirloom,—how you recall 
the palmy days of my ancestors! Many well-lined fobs 
have you ticked in, in your time; and now you lie 
amongst old parchments and family jewels in a lawyer’s 
safe, whilst your poor owner travels the world o’er on a 
whaler, with a Waterbury—beggarly Waterbury, that 
broke the first time I wound it up. 

After these affegting ceremonies we adjourned to the 
Club with an old friend, and there Bruce and I saw the 
last fair meal we were to see for many a day. 

How vividly do I now recall that last evening of 
luxury; the gleaming white linen and silver, and the 
harvest moon peeping over the Castle, blending her 
silvery rays in the yellow bubbles of the Heidsieck. 


CHAPTER II 


T was late when we made our way 
back to our Hall; the only people 
afloat were two soldiers, feeling 
their way to barracks, and the 
night policeman. Of course we 
had forgotten our latch-keys, so 
we had to pelt the windows till a 
good professor wakened from the 
dreams of his youth, and threw 


down his key wrapped in paper. 


There was still some more packing 
and writing to do, so there was no time for sleep, and 
when the sun rose we were working away, roping, 
strapping, and hauling our baggage down the spiral 
staircase. 

It was such a beautiful September morning that we felt 
half sorry to leave Edinburgh. Princes Street and the 
houses of the new town lay beneath us, still asleep in the 
violet shadow of the old town, and over in Fife the hills 
were just touched with the level morning rays; on the 
Firth the sails of a ship caught the light and gleamed 
white as a sea-gull’s wing, and the grey water changed 


to vivid, sparkling blue. Beyond the blue rolling pine- 
14 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 15 


woods of the Kinross, the Ochils lit up, and far away 
over the silvery bends of the Forth, Ben Ledi and Ben 
Lomond raised their grey heads into the yellow western 
sky. 

As we took our departure at such an early hour, the 
citizens of Edinburgh did not turn out in force to bid us 
farewell, but one Hall man, who had been working all 
night for his final, came out of his lamp-lit room into the 
daylight as we rattled our boxes down-stairs,and generously 
said nothing about the horrid racket we must have made 
all night just above his head, but shook flippers and 
wished us God-speed. I see him now, a tall, woe-begone 
figure, in a red and yellow blazer, with a wet towel round 
his head like a turban. Poor fellow! we felt that he 
needed good wishes more than we did. We wished to 
make a sensation somehow or other, so we mentioned in 
an off-hand way to our jarvie that we were going to the 
Antarctic, and you,should have seen how he stared, and 
how carefully he hoisted our boxes on to the dickey. He 
had heard about the expedition in the papers. As it was 
a long road, we suggested that he had perhaps better 
hurry a little, and by Jove he did; the way we clattered 
up Bank Street to Riddle’s Court to get the last of our 
baggage was.a thing to be remembered. 

The lady students had flown with the summer, 
and the housekeeper and her maids went about the 
deserted rooms sweeping up bows, ribbons, etc., making 
preparations for the return of the winter residents. 
We wolfed a hurried breakfast there in the common 
room, bundled into the cab again, and rattled down 


16 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


to the Waverley just in time to catch the first train to 
Dundee. 

So at last we were fairly ex route for the Antarctic, 
possibly the South Pole. 

... Dundee, like other towns, is a very ugly blot on the 
beautiful face of Nature. When I left school I had a 
romantic belief that Bonnie Dundee, who died for the 
Royal family at Killiecrankie, was in some way connected 
with the town. But this belief was unfounded, and I have 
not yet learned that it has ever been connected with any 
character so picturesque as the Bonnie Lord Viscount. 
Long ago it used to be considered a safe banking town. 
The soldier burghers of the towns to the south, when they 
shut their shops and went to the borders to fight with the 
English, sent their money-bags to the burghers of Dundee 
for safe keeping ; which was, doubtless, a very good plan. 

The American War is partly responsible for the town 
being what it now is; before that war it was a pleasant, 
quiet-going weaving town and port. The jute fever 
came with the cotton famine, and the small independent 
weavers were brought from the looms in their houses to 
work in big factories. The organisers of the work became 
‘the bloated capitalists’ that we hear so much about, 
and the workers went down, and remain down. I have 
heard an elderly man describe the early days of the 
‘city’s prosperity, as they are called—its mushroom 
growth of factories and fortunes, with its stores and flash 
bars, and the xowveaux riches, with their gold and their 
girls; and it sounded like the rise of a Western mining 


town rather than the quiet growth of an East Coast seaport. 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 17 


The jute fever has long since subsided, and the 
moneyed employer has satisfied all his individual physical 
wants, and is now trying to gratify his artistic cravings. 
He has no taste; he is a business man, and taste has not 
been in his line. This he admits without the least shame, 
so he goes to the picture dealer and the artistic upholsterer 
who keep art in stock. These have neither taste nor 
conscience, still they decorate the manufacturer's house. 
They dangle the clever things in gold frames from exhibi- 
tions over the walls, and fill the rooms with upholstery ; 
with a result that you, the reader, if you are a man of 
business, could not but fail to realise. 

The working classes have, perhaps, as little cultivation 
as their employers; but want of means prevents them 
showing an unlimited amount of bad taste. Of necessity 
they are simple, and simplicity is the szze gua non of 
great art. They show some vitality in music, however. 
It is only the poorest workman who does not possess a 
harmonium on which his wife or daughter can play him 
the air of some soothing popular melody, or one of those 
martial hymns that have made such a noise in the world 
since the days of Sankey. Concertinas and melodeons 
are as common as blackberries, and the twilight hours are 
filled with their melody, poured forth by the enamoured 
youth at the stair-foot of his senorita’s seven-floor tene- 
ment. 

Lately the Milo and other beautiful Greek and Egyptian 
works have been enshrined in a fine Gothic building in 
the centre of the town. A few people go to look at them, 


and enjoy them, and wonder why there is no Apollo, 
B 


18 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


and why there should be but one beautiful spot in such 
a large and wealthy town. But enough of Dundee! 
Thank heaven if you need not work under its smoky 
cowl, and pray for the poor souls who think that they 
must. 

After we had taken our traps on board we went down 
to the shipping office and waited our turn to sign articles, 
This was quite an impressive function, The clerk and the 
skipper stood behind a broad counter and both looked 
very kind; the crew stood in front and looked rather 
grim. The two parties were separated by a substantial 
brass lattice-work, which I was told serves to prevent 
the men on pay day totting up accounts with their 
masters in other than a legal manner. When several of 
the crew were collected, the clerk read the articles aloud, 
previous to our signing them, rattling them off at such a 
rate that we could form but a vague idea of what he was 
reading about. I could gather that we were to sail on the 
Balena, bound for the Antarctic and the adjacent seas, 
and there was a something about plum duff on Sundays, 
and beef and split peas on some other day of the week. 
These were the rations the men were signing for; but 
they could tell no more than I could what the clerk had 
read. 

The men received their first half-month’s pay in advance 
wherewith to supply themselves with clothing and a deoch 
an doris.  can vouch for their having had the latter when 
they came on board; but a good deal of the clothing 
they have bought since from the master’s slop chest, for 
which payment will be deducted out of their wages—an 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 19 


extravagant way of doing business, so they say. I signed 
articles as assistant surgeon, at a shilling a month for pay, 
and I felt grievously disappointed when my modest 
request for one half-month’s pay in advance was refused. 
I had intended to do all sorts of things with that six- 
pence. 

I shall never forget the excitement and bustle of that 
afternoon when we left the Camperdown dock. 

The expedition had been much talked of, so all the 
Dundee citizens who could leave their factories were 
down at the dock gates to bid farewell to their friends. 
The decks were still littered with sacks of coal, ropes, 
and spars. And the crew, up to summer Plimsoll line 
with grog, were staggering on board under deck cargoes 
of mattresses, blankets, and provisions. Some were 
hauling their sea-chests along, and wives and children 
were picking their way about the decks, staring round 
them at the little barque that was to take their men to 
the Southern Seas. Some of the older women, when they 
thought they were not observed, put money into the 
crevices in our rudder head to bring us luck, with who 
knows what result. 

The change from the weary monotony of shore life to 
the sea-going life was marvellously rapid and complete. 
It was as if a great stage-curtain had been rolled up 
before us, and all that we had heard or read of the ways 
of the sea since we read Marryat and Robinson Crusoe 
was acted on the deck before us: each man took up his 
part as if he had played it from the days of the Flying 


Dutchman onward. 


20 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


As we warped through the dock gates the last of the 
crew bade good-bye to their wives and children, hardened 
their hearts, and tumbled on board, leaving many a kind 
face wet with tears, but smiling hope and encouragement; 
then we swung out into the stream, and the men came aft 


to the taffrail and mizzen-shrouds and shouted a hoarse 


farewell to the distant crowd on the pierhead, and a faint 


‘Hoorae, hoorae, hoorae!’ came back over the calm, 
silvery Tay. Then all hands bundled away forward 
again, shouting and singing, dived down the focsle-hatch, 
threw off their shore togs and shore cares, had one last 
pull at the bottle, and were up on deck in a minute, 
drunk and glorious, ready to go to the world’s end or 
beyond it—a jolly, motley crowd, not two dressed alike, in 
dungaree suits of every shade of blue and green, in faded 
jerseys and red handkerchiefs. Men and boys there were 
of every sailor type: old Arctic whalers, red cheeked and 
bearded ; tanned South Spainers with shaven chins and 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 21 


faces lined with the rough and smooth; quiet men and 
boys from the East Coast fishing villages, and gentle men 
from the Shetlands. Fifty men from all the world; 
strangers an hour ago, brothers now—in the one spirit 
of whisky, devilment, and adventure, 

What a picture they made as they swung together 
at the topsail halyards, their eyes gleaming, with open, 
thirsty neouths shouting the old shantie, ‘Whis—ky 
John—nie. Oh—whisky makes the life of man. 
Whis—ky for—my Johnnie, with the shantie man’s 
solo, ‘Oh, whisky made me pawn my clothes, and 
all together again, with a double haul and a shout of 
‘Whis—ky—John—nie, that makes the blood tingle 
even to remember it. 

All small sail set, most of the crew disappeared, and 
left the clearing up of the decks to some of the Union 
and other clear-headed men. 

Going down the Tay a search was made for stow- 
aways, and twelve poor young chaps were routed out and 
sent back to their mother country in a small boat that 
went ashore at Broughty Ferry. It was very touching to 
see the group of hungry-looking boys standing together 
in the waist; some of them were crying with disap- 
pointment. 

The wind was light and from the south, so when we 
passed the buoy of Tay we turned northwards for the 
Pentland Firth instead of the Channel; but we did not 
know what sort of weather was before us. Surely the 
money of the spaewives never sent mariners worse 


winds. 


22 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


Our first night at sea was quiet. The harvest moon 
shone over a broad track of rippling sea, and the doctor 
and I chatted till late with Nicholas the steward. 


Gra PIER bl 


T is just possible that there are persons living in London 
and ,other remote parts of the country who may not 
have heard anything about this whaling expedition from 
Dundee to the Antarctic. For their benefit I shall here 
give a short account of its origin and ‘the gran’ com- 
murrcial aspecs o’ the expedeetion.’ 

The Balena mysticetus, right whale, Bowhead or 
Greenland whale, or whatever the reader may choose to 
call it, is, as he perhaps already knows, of great value 
on account of the bone in its mouth. You will find in 
the Ladzes’ Pictorial plenty of pictures of the people who 
keep up the price, pr you can see them half alive in the 
streets—willowy things with their blood all squeezed into 
their heads. The whalebone in the jaws of one whale 
sometimes is worth two or three thousand pounds. 
Naturally, a whale with such a fortune in its mouth has 
been in great request, and in consequence has become so 
scarce, or so retiring, that of late years Arctic whalers 
have found their formerly profitable industry almost a 
failure. 

To make a new start, the Nimrods of Peterhead, three 
brothers Gray, of Arctic fame, proposed taking their ships 
to the Antarctic to look for whales there. From the 


account given by Sir James Ross of his voyage of dis- 
28 


24 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


covery in 1842, there was reason to believe that all that 
was necessary to make a ‘full ship’ was to sail south, haul 
the bone aboard, and sail home again with a fortune 
between decks. Glorious castles in the air were built in 
this prospective foundation of bone and blubber. One of 
these three whaling brothers, Mr. J. M. Gray, I believe, 
the eldest of the trio, had the enterprise to start a 
company with this object in view in 1891, but, fortunately 
or unfortunately, failed to collect sufficient capital. Next 
year, Mr. R. Kinnes of Dundee followed Mr. Gray’s 
example, and succeeded in equipping four ships for the 
purpose—the Lalena, Active, Diana, and Polar Star, all 
wooden barques built for ice work, with small auxiliary 
screws. The Baleena, originally called AZjo/nar, on which 
I write, is considerably the largest of the four, being 
260 tons register, gross tonnage 417, with a 65 horse- 
power engine, length 141 feet, beam 31, and draught 
163 feet. She was built in Drammen in 1872, and 
was then ship-rigged, I believe. She was what is called 
a pet ship, built to suit the ideas of her master. Her 
sides, with timbers and linings 32 inches thick, are 
supported in every direction by huge beams and natural 
knees. The focsle is forward, below the main deck. 
Aft, the deck-house roof rises about 2 feet above the 
poop—what is technically called a Liverpool house— 
leaving a narrow alley-way round the stern. Her sheer is 
greater than in British ships, and her lines are somewhat 
after those of the Viking ships. The Active is the 
next largest. She was built at Peterhead in 1852, 
and has an old-fashioned, homely look,—low in the 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 25 


bow and high in the stern, reminding one of the ships 
in the pictures of Vandervelde. Her length is 117 feet, 
beam 28 feet, draught 18 feet, and engines 40 horse- 
power. The Diana, like the Balena, was built in 
Drammen, and bought from the Norwegians: length 
‘135 feet, beam 29 feet, draught 16 feet, engine 40 
horse-power. 

Then comes the Polar Star, a pretty vessel to look 
at, but very small, and as old as the hills, I’m told. 
She has a most diminutive engine that just moves 
her. The funnel is about the size of a pipe-stem. 
I nearly signed before the mast on her, but from 
what I hear of her now, I am rather glad I did 
not. All four vessels are barque-rigged, with single 
patent reefing topsails. With their small, buff-coloured 
funnels, they look like old-fashioned men-of-war at a 
distance. 

Before the expedition started, the newspapers got hold 
of these dry facts, and apparently found them rather too 
dry for general consumption, so they flavoured them 
highly, and then the public took them and passed them 
round till they became very sensational indeed. One of 
the accounts that was whispered from lip to ear in the 
shipping offices, and bandied amongst the men about the 
docks, was that the four ships were being sent out never 
to return. Only one of them, it was said, would possibly 
come back, and it was comforting to hear that probably 
this would be the Balena. The others were heavily 
insured, and their fate was expressed by a shrug and a 


wink. 


26 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


The report that there was a berth on one of the ships 
for a passenger, though hardly of public interest, gave me 
a lot of trouble, and caused much disappointment to 
several people who applied.t 

Another unfounded report was that the Royal Geo- 
graphical and Meteorological Societies intended to pay 
#25,000 of the expenses—an extremely liberal intention, 
which would have left the Company to supply only about 
% 3000 more. Then Government was said to have offered 
help. So thoroughly were the papers and people con- 
vinced that no such expedition would be started by 
private enterprise, that some of our crew signed for a less 
proportion of bone and oil money and larger weekly 
wages than they would have done if they had believed 
in the merely commercial basis of the undertaking. 

It is true that these Societies did take a keen interest 
in the scientific prospects of the voyage; and both the 
Royal and the Meteorological subscribed instruments. 
Some private individuals, also, who arranged that the 
ships’ doctors should be men of scientific tastes and 
acquirements, supplied them with necessary material for 
their observations, 

These are all the facts and fictions about the expedition 
that I have heard, and I hope the reader will fully 
appreciate them, as it has been very dry work writing 
them down. Further on in my log I may happen on 


more information that may interest those interested in 


1 One of the applicants, an enthusiastic naturalist, when he heard the ships 
had sailed, even went the length of stearning to the Falklands to secure the 
berth there, when we called on our way south, 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 27 


the commercial aspects of whaling and sealing. I hope 
so for their sake; but my present intention is simply to 
give rough sketches and notes of what interests me on 
the voyage, trusting that they will not be so horribly 
disjointed as to be quite unreadable. 

The morning of the 7th was wet and foggy. At 8 A.M. 
Peterhead bore W.S.W. ten miles—so a fisherman shouted 
to us as bis brown lug-sailed boat crossed our bows and 
disappeared in the mist, hurrying home with their night’s 
catch to get the first of the market, Later in the day the 
fog cleared, and we set all sail with a fair wind. The crew 
were very busy all day setting up rigging, but rather sad 
and quiet as they worked. No doubt their heads and 
hearts were sore. In the afternoon came a change; the 
S.E. wind had fallen, and scarcely filled our sails, when 
a patch of black clouds formed over the land in the N.W, 
in clear grey sky. Slowly it came out towards us, 
hanging low, growmg gradually larger, and throwing a 
dark shadow on the leaden sea. Round us the sea fell 
glassy calm, and the black monster came down twisting, 
twirling, forming out of nothing below, vanishing 
raggedly above in the chilly air. The men stood by the 
sheets and halyards silently waiting the orders to shorten 
sail; their faces looked pale and ghastly against the dull, 
lead-coloured sea, Then it came down on us with a 
sudden rush, lightning flashing and thunder rolling in the 
black cave over our heads. The sea was ripped into short 
angry waves, and we lay suddenly over till our lee 
scuppers creamed with seething foam, wind and rain 
struck us at the same time, and the sails that had been 


28 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


hanging in white soft folds filled out hard and dark, and 
streams of water poured down their hollow sides, and 
splashed on the glistening decks. The air was filled with 
the sound of the rushing wind and the hissing of the sea 
as we tore along before the squall. Hoarse orders 
were shouted along the deck :—‘ Let go flying jib there! 
Clew up fore-to’gallant! Main-to’gallant! In spanker!’ 
the men repeating the orders, and yeo-hoing in all different 
high keys as they hauled on the down hauls. We were 
pulling on the topsail reefing halyards when the squall 
passed, rumbling and growling, into the distance. 

And so began our troubles in the Northern Seas. 
Was there no weather-clerk or spaewife wise enough to 
tell us that gales and head-winds waited us in the north, 
when we would have sailed south down Channel with a 
fair wind on our quarter. The weather cleared with the 
squall. It had besides a vivifying effect on our men. 
They went about a little jollier than before ; but the wind 
had gone round to the N.W., and there it stopped. In 
the evening we steamed past Duncansby Head, past 
the Paps of Caithness, bathed in a yellow sunset, past 
Stroma, the island of many streams, through the Firth 
with a nine-mile tide helping us through to the Atlantic. 
It is an interesting country that Pentland Firth, with its 
islands, with its mixed people, and its stories and legends, 
Celtic, Spanish, Norwegian, and Dutch—plenty store there 
for a New Argonautica. On the 8th, with fresh westerly 
wind and clear weather, we steamed past Cape Wrath. 
In the afternoon we took in the two whale-boats that were 


hanging on the davits, and lashed them down to the ring- 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 29 


bolts aft the foremast, on the part of the deck between 
the fore- and the main-mast called ‘no man’s land.” The 
two quarter-boats were left on the davits, whilst the main- 
chain and fore-chain boats were turned keel up on the 
skids or beams that cross in front of and behind the main- 
mast and foremast. They make a welcome shelter in 
bad weather, particularly so in these hot days when the 
hammocks,are slung beneath them, and the watch off duty 
hang sleeping there like bats from rafters. Then the 
anchors were brought inboard, and made fast on the 
focsle-head. The cables were stowed, and we stopped 
steaming, and set all sail, heading N.W.; but the wind 
increasing, we soon had to take in all small sail. 

From the oth to about the 20th it blew every sort of 
squall and gale known to meteorologists or seamen. My 
diary, I find, is one long wail at the wretched weather. 
So, instead of it, I shall give an extract from Mr. Adams’ 
(our first mate) log fpr a few days. His log gets over the 
ground far quicker than mine, and besides has a certain 


stoical pithiness of expression that I feel mine lacks. 


September oti.—Wind westerly ; making an offing from 
Irish coast. 

From 58.46 N. stopped steaming; set all sail 8 P.M, 
burst foretopsail and topgallant; bent another topsail. 
12 P.M., wind increasing ; reefed topsail. 


10¢#.—Noon, 58.35 N. 4. Furled jib and mainsail; car- 
ried away flying jibboom; strong wind; heavy showers. 


Noon, 2, strong wind; very heavy sea. 4. Wore ship; 


30 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


vessel labouring heavily and shipping quantities of water. 


12, fresh gale with heavy sea. 


September 11th.—Very heavy squalls, with much rain. 
Close-reefed topsail; strong gale and heavy sea. Lat. 
59.13 ; long. 
first reef topsail; wore ship. Strong wind and squally 


Strong wind S.W.; very heavy sea ; out 


weather. ¥ 

12¢.—6 A.M., very heavy squalls; close-reefed topsail. 
10, strong gale; high sea. 12, no alteration wind or 
weather. 

So the log continues. We lay in the hollow of the 
grey valleys day after day, night after night, pitching, 
tossing, rolling, down to our chain-plates with our deck 
load of coal,—there is no Plimsoll line on a whaler—the 
deck all awash with foam, every second wave thundering 
on board. The black and yellow oilskins of the men at 
the pumps now glistening in a gleam of sunlight, and 
again sombre and pouring wet as they plunged knee-deep 
through the sea in our waist, and hauled on the braces 
and halyards. But thanks to the immensely strong 
timbers and bulwarks, the heavy seas have done us no 
great harm, though a vessel of ordinary build would 
have left her bulwarks scattered over the ocean. 

One gleam of hope we had on the 11th—the barometer 
went up a little and the wind moderated. The monoton- 
ous insistent humming in the rigging ceased, the splashing 
and the thumping and the noise of the storm stopped for 


a while. Then we breathed again, and stretched our limbs, 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 31 


took off oilskins and sea-boots, and hope grew strong 
within us. 

Nicholas, our steward, ventured to hold a ‘shoppie’ on 
the strength of the lull; and the ‘shoppie’ is a great 
function on board a sailing ship. The lamp is lit in the 
cabin, and Nick unpacks bundles of sea-boots, dungarees, 
jerseys, socks, caps, red handkerchiefs, and all things of a 


seaman’s wardrobe. 


Then the 
men come aft 
out of the dark- 


ness and wet, and 


stand in the passage 
and cabin, and the first man buys what he needs—boots 
or jerseys, or what things else he has not been able 
to. buy out of the pay he received in advance when he 
signed articles. Probably he has brought but little with 
him beyond his mattress of chaff and the clothes he stood 
in, not having great capital to invest in these things. If 


an able-bodied seaman, he probably received some four 


32 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


pounds when he signed. Two or three he would leave 
with his wife or children to tide them over the first four 
weeks till they could call at the agents for the next half- 
month’s pay ; of the remainder, a few shillings would go 
on clothes, a few shillings for preserved milk for the 
voyage ; and if he stood his chums and wife a grog or 
two before leaving for nine months’ abstinence, he can 
scarcely be blamed, can he? 

In the sketch I see I have made the men look rather 
melancholy. Starting an account against their future pay 
possibly is the reason for this expression, Nicholas is writ- 
ing down the name of one of the purchasers. He, behind, 
examining his new sea-boots is not like the Hebrew pur- 
chaser who said it was naught, and went away boasting ; 
he describes the purchase as something or other bad 
before he buys, and worse afterwards ; but sailors all growl. 
Fifty per cent. the skipper makes on his purchase, so Jack 
says; which of course is a lie, as skippers are just as 
honest as other shopmen, and make a dead loss on such 
transactions. 

Bruce had his first surgical operation to-day. An 
iron-bound block carried away somewhere aloft and came 
down ona man Bonnar’s head. He was a stout, elderly 
A.B., and made no moan, but clapped his cap on the hole 
in his skull and was helped along to the cabin. As 
assistant surgeon I did my duty on this occasion by hold- 
ing the doctor’s legs—there was a heavy sea on—whilst 
he tinkered up the head, and Nick held the carbolic and 
plaster. 

On the 13th, lat. 58.20, long. 9.47, the weather still held 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


we) 
ies) 


fine, though the wind was ahead, and with the engines 
kept going and our fore and aft sails, we managed to 
make a few knots in nearly the right direction, Every one 
made the most of the gleam of fine weather. We have 
turned out all our wet books on deck, and got our bunks dry, 
and have our clothes hanging out to dry on the rigging. 
Aft on the quarter-deck the sailmaker is busy patching 


up our tory sails, of which we have quite a collection now ; 


the flying jibboom carried away in one of the squalls, so 
we shall have to have a new one made, The whale lines 
were hauled out from below the cabin on to the quarter- 
deck and dried in the sun, everything in the after-hold, 
sails and lines, being more or less wet with the water that 
had come on board and made its way through the cabin- 
flooring and hatches to the sail-room. The Balazna was 
plodding along steadily when we turned in, with a light 
G 


34 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


wind on our fore-quarter, making five knots an hour,—no 
great speed, but enough to keep our hearts up in the fond 
belief that we would get out of the Western Ocean some 
day, But, alas! at 7.30 the engines stopped, the wind 
began to rise again, and in my bunk I could hear the 
orders shouted to shorten sail, and in a few moments we 
began the old motion again: a slow climbing up watery 
hills, with a throw on the crest enough to twisteour masts 
out ; a nightmare-sinking as the billow passed beneath us 
with a thump and a crash and we reached the bottom of 
the valley and plunged into the next hillside, to rise slowly 
again, with the white sea surging, tumbling madly on our 
decks, swishing from bulwark to bulwark, surging against 
the cabin door, till it escaped at the scupper or over the 
bulwarks as if thrown 
from a full cup—just 
to come thundering on 
deck again, 

Oh, the weariness of 
that wind’s song in the 
rigging, that persistent 
humming as we sink 
into the trough, rising 
and howling as we 
mount the angry grey 
ridge. What does it 


mean, that dreary 


booming everlastingly 
passing us under the hard grey sky, driving the Lord 


knows where? Is it a great tune with great words that 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC © 35 


human ears cannot distinguish, or moaning of lost, hope- 
less spirits ? 

All the crew are in oilskin again—dripping oilskin on 
the top of damp clothes. We have oil-bags towing to 
windward, and the oil helps greatly to keep the sea from 
breaking. Now and then a wild sea burst on our bow, 
making glorious painter's effects; but, oh! the weariness 
to have to ace another gale and again run off our course, 
About mid-day, as we were trying to forget our misery, 
one of these white demons caught us full and fair on the 
bow just as we began to rise to a wave. With what a 
staggering crash it struck us! We felt as if our ship had 
gone full tilt on a rock, and thought to hear the deep sea 
singing in our ears. The mass of water on deck seemed 
fairly to take the Baleena’s breath away, and she sat down 
deep and almost still, rolled gently from side to side, 
her rail almost flush with the sea outside, and seemed 
to debate whether it §vas best to slip under quietly or rise 
and fight it out. She made another effort, fortunately, 
lifted one dark bulwark a little, heaved over half the sea 
to windward, gave a lurch to leeward, and got rid of the 
fifty tons or so, spouted the rest through the scuppers, and 
slowly rose and took time with the rollers as pluckily as 
ever. It was a cheerful feeling, that rising again, and 
very sad that slow movement when we were almost under. 
A hole, two feet square, was left in our bows, under the 
anchor-deck, to mark the kiss of the Atlantic, and for 
months afterwards the sea and the sunlight came pouring 
through it alternately. Of course everything on deck 


went adrift, buckets, harness-casks, tubs, and spars went 


36 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


pitching about in the seething foam like the stocks in 
Fiskum Foss. I wish I could have done these subjects 
justice in paint, Perhaps in the future, in the quiet of a 
studio at home, I may try to recall some of the dreary 
turmoil and the cold feelingless glitter of sea and sky, 
and frame it with a gold frame, and have it hung in 
some man’s dining-room; it would make the room feel 
calm and comfortable by contrast. But all one could do 
at the time was to make small jottings, and then hold on 


when the seas came over. Water colours were out of the 


question ; even pochades in oil, with salt water pouring 
over, were difficult. 


Cr par ik Ly 


ATURDAY, 17th September.—Lat. 54.40; long. 11.1. 
All night we have sailed with a fair wind, and have 
slept the most refreshing sleep. A contrast to last night, 
when the seas were going over us, and we expected every 
moment to go under. But our comfort has been of short 
duration. The wind has gone round to the old quarter, 
the S.W., and blows big guns. None of our crew, old 
Arctic men, have had such a buffeting as this in the North 
Atlantic: this fortnight has been a revelation to most of 
them. This afternoon we hung on to the rails on the 
poop, occasionally plunged in foam, whilst the first mate 
spun us yarns of the sport the whalers have in Davis 
Strait. Tales of bear shooting, reindeer stalking, and long 
excursions in the boats for days and weeks together, in the 
Arctic summer, up silent, sunny fiords, unknown, unnamed, 
where the splash of oars is never heard, where the rivers are 
filled with salmon and never a one to catch them. The 
whale-ships leave Dundee in the spring of the year and are 
in the Straits in about two or three weeks. Sometimes a 
passenger goes with one of these ships, and if by good 
luck he happens on a decent skipper, such a trip is most 
enjoyable. 
By far the best plan—a plan that I am surprised has not 
been carried out yet—would be for some five or six sports- 


men to charter a whaler for the summer, take just enough 
37 


38 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


men and boats to kill a whale if they were fortunate 
enough to fall in with one, and spend the spring and 
summer hunting reindeer, bears, walrus, white whales, 
white hares, netting salmon, exploring, etc. The draw- 
back to such sport is apparently the tameness of the reins 
and the meekness of the bears. But as against that there 
is the enormous improvement on home sport, that there 
you shoot and fish for your dinner, which, after all the 
talk of Sport for Sport’s sake, is what gives fishing and 
shooting their real zest. A whaling barque could easily 
be bought now for an old song, especially if this Antarctic 
whaling proves a failure. The owners would then part 
with them at any price. There are any number of splendid 
Arctic seamen, old whalers and hunters, ready to be 
engaged, and I know of the very man for master. Then, 
if the ship was lucky and fell in with a whale, all the 
expenses would be paid, and the walruses and seals would 
realise a profit. Five months’ sport, free-gratis-and-for- 
nothing! 

Is it not wonderful that people invest in forests and 
chivvy red deer from fence to fence, and pot partridges 
over endless miles of turnips, when up north they could 
kill big game on unnamed mountains, sail up under 
covered fiords, and run great whales on miles of line ! 

To me, a Scot of the proverbial lack-penny type, whose 
natural inheritance of sport was long since advertised by 
Scott and sold to English tradesmen, such a prospect 
appears most powerfully attractive. I am now afraid, 
from all that I have heard, there will be little sport in the 
Antarctic; but the uncertainty, the possibilities of falling 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 39 


in with unknown animals, has a great fascination. At 
present we are surrounded with bird-life. Mollies are in 
hundreds wheeling and dipping round our stern—perhaps 
the oil-bags we have had hanging over to windward to 
break the seas has attracted them, or possibly it is the 
relationship that exists between them and our sailors. 
Mollies were once sailors: this is not generally known. 
Our men ,know them, and can tell you who they once 
were. Here isa very tame one that comes so close that 
we could almost touch it as it passes. We know it quite 
well now by the expression in its dark eye and by 
certain marks on the feathers. In the body, the men 
say, he was John Jack, an old Arctic sailor lost in the 
West Ice. 

There are, besides, Mother Carey’s chickens, or stormy 
petrels; they keep by themselves, a little aloof, following 
in our wake behind the Mollies, dipping the points of 
their dainty black heaks into the seething water, patting 
the surface of the waves with their delicate black feet, 
picking up invisible food. They are very gentle little 
birds, rather like swifts, black, with a white patch just 
above their tail, and have a peculiar moth-like flight. 
They look like flakes of soot driven about in a windy 
sky. 

The Dutchman’s troubles were a jest to ours, On the 
strength of the comparatively quiet weather we had a clean 
table-cloth to-night ; but just as the stew was put down a 
heavy sea caught the Ba/ena and sent us and the stew 
all over the cabin, Poor Nicholas! I did feel sorry for 
him. He has felt the parting with his family very much, 


40 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


and the continued storm has been trying to us all; but 
this last accident, which he has so wonderfully succeeded 
in averting for such a long time, has almost broken him up. 

Sunday has passed soft and grey, a long day of 
perfect rest and contentment. The sea has gone down, 
and we are slipping quietly along before a light N.E. 
wind. All day we have been lying about the deck enjoy- 
ing absolute idleness and dry clothes, and the soreness is 
going out of our limbs. We are too tired to read, just 
alive enough to enjoy the gentle roll, and to watch the sea- 
birds and listen to the man at the wheel yarning to us. 
He ought not to speak; but the ways of a whaler are not 
those of other ships. This man was well worth listening 
to; he was one of the #zra men who spent the winter 
with Mr. Leigh Smith in Franz-Joseph Land, so his 
experiences were somewhat out of the common. Most 
people interested in matters Arctic have heard how the 
Eira went down off Franz-Joseph J.and, and how the 
crew lived on walrus’ and bears’ flesh all winter, and 
sailed in their boats in the spring for forty-one days 
through the ice-floes, and arrived in Scotland none the 
worse. Such tales are interesting, even to read of; but 
when told by one of the actors, they are doubly so. Mason 
looked back to that long dark winter with feelings of 
nothing but regret and longing, for the fastings and great 
feeds of walrus flesh. He recalled the handful of broken 
biscuits they had served out to them on Christmas evening 
as one of the most pleasant recollections of his life. 

A blue shark paid usa call this morning, Being Sunday, 


however, we did not introduce the subject of sport; but we 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 41 


have prepared the line and chain, and baited the great 
hook with a hunch of salt pork. We are still too near 
Scotland to show our true colours; nearer the line, or in 
the ice, we will put on the whaler and kill and spare not, 
Sunday and week-day alike. 


The end of our first chapter of troubles. 


In the focsle. 


CHAPTER 


ONDAY, 19 September.—Lat. 53.9; long. 13.51. 

Fine weather at sea. Two days ago our thoughts 
went ever roaming 
northward and 
homeward; to-day 
they followthe track 
of the wind to the 
south. We think of 
the voyage before 
us, and picture the 
ice world away in 
the Southern Seas, 
_ Yesterday’s rest has 
done us all good, 
and to-day the crew, 


instead of stamping 


about the foaming 
decks in streaming oilskins, are all busy at different works 
on deck in the sunlight, with coats off and bare arms. 

In the galley Peter and his mate are making great pre- 
parations for a regular fine-weather dinner; they run no 
risk of scalds and broken dishes to-day. Forward, the 
boys are spinning foxes and marline out of old junk, dip- 
ping their fingers into tar pots and rubbing the twisted 


strands with it. Our two ‘stowaways’ are busy with the 
42 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 43 


rest. Poor fellows, they did not bring a very extensive 
wardrobe with them! It was difficult enough to hide 
away their bodies in the harpoon chest, without bringing 
any baggage on board; but they look cheerful and hope- 
ful now, seemingly well satisfied with the berth fortune 
has given them. 

Another group is at work tautening the main-shrouds 
and backstays, hauling on them with block and tackle. 
We have old-fashioned shrouds, with‘dead-eyes and lan- 
yards, much more elastic and picturesque than the modern 
screw-till-you-break style of thing. The backstays are 
quite a feature in a whaler; we have three for the top- 
mast, two to’gallant, and a royal—more than the usual 
number, to make the masts stand the violent jerks forward 
when the vessel collides with the ice. Aft on the quarter- 
deck or poop the group of figures at work suggest the 
great London painter’s picture of the ‘ Arts of Peace,’ with 
the ladies and the elegance left out. ‘ Sails’ is working 
for dear life, making his needle fly through the tough 
canvas. The second mate and some of his watch are 
hauling long rolls of sail from below the cabin for repairs, 
all wet and torn, and promising ‘ Sails’ many a day’s work 
before they are fit to hold wind again. I am busy, too, 
lettering the flag-signal bags, and making pictures—quite 
in my element, I confess, for I believe in the usefulness of 
art. It appears to me that what is called Art for Art is 
dilettantism, just as Sport for Sport is butchery. 

The sea is deep blue this evening, tinged with red 
from a fine-weather sunset. A pleasant warm wind from 


the north sends us steadily on our course. Our square 


Ad FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


sails are sleeping—round, and taut, and motionless, Por- 
poises play round our stern, leaping out of the deep blue 
with a sigh and a shower of sparkling drops; for a second 
they hang with a glint of the setting sun on their black 
polished shoulders, then plunge like a cannon shot into the 
darkening waves, leaving a phosphorescent trail as they 
dart in a zig-zag course beneath and round our hull. How 
often I have read of these sea effects and keard them 


described, and yet how poor, thin, and feeble was the 


colouring of the mental pictures I drew! Clark Russell 


had painted the sea for me with the strong colours of 
Rubens, Pierre Loti had described its pearly tints with 
the grace of Corot; but they had only turned the first 


pages of an endless, enthralling picture-book, 


Tuesday, 20th September—Lat. 53.9 ; long. 13.5. Three 


sparrow-hawks visited us to-day' at different times, 


1 About 130 miles west of the Irish coast. 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 45 


bringing thoughts of land into this horizon-bound prison. 
They had but an unkind reception. Our mate dropped 
the first arrival on deck with my gun: I supplied the 
gun, and he took the risk of the evil consequences that 
might follow so inhospitable a deed. At mid-day there 
was another cry: ‘a hak, a hak!’ and all hands stopped 
work and looked aloft at the little traveller, which lighted 
finally on,the mizzen gaff, and another shot dropped 
him on the poop as we rolled to windward. I wonder 
where they were bound for? 

A few more days of this perfect weather, with the sails 
looking after themselves, and the mate will find it hard to 
get work enough to keep the crew busy. We have over 
forty men forward, but as yet there seems to be work for 
all hands. We have hardly any modern wire-rigging, so 
our ship’s toilet, being all of rope, requires constant look- 
ing to, serving, tarring, and a hundred little attentions. 

4 

The air is full of golden light this evening. Rosy 
reflections touch the sides of the deep purple swell. Our 
masts and rigging and broad sails show dark against the 
sunset. Vague groups of men sit about the deck, some 
playing and some dancing, their outlines so blended and 
softened as to be almost indistinguishable. Amber light 
pours over the bulwarks; it falls white on the neck of a 
man reading, burns red on the turn of a brown cheek, and 
sparkles on the wet skin of another washing—detached 
spots of colour that give transparency to the low tones of 
the shadowed deck. 


On such an evening, when every atom seems trembling 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 47 


with harmonious colouring, sounds soften and tune them- 
selves ; even the wheezy spasmodic notes that the mate 
draws from his melodeon are sweet and beautiful to-night. 

Nicholas is having another shoppie aft in the cabin. 
He has brought out a miscellaneous collection of articles 
for sale—Arctic mits, whalers’ caps, broad-brimmed straw 
hats for the tropics, snow spectacles, red handkerchiefs, 
tobacco, pipes, sea-boots, and carpet-slippers. If any one 
wants straw hats or light dungarees, now is the time to 
get them, for there is quite a rush upon thin clothing for 
the tropics; our Arctic men look forward with dread to 
the heat on the line. The South Spainers amongst us 
who have crossed the line as often as the Arctic circle, 
have brought old topies and karkee jackets, so they do no 
trade, but look on and throw in advice to the youngsters 
and old men who have not been south, but have served 
their time in the seventies and eighties North latitude. 

” 

Wednesday, 21st Sept—tLat. 50.15; long. 15.49. The 
doctor has got the scientific interest of the expedition 
well in hand now. Lately science and art have scarcely 
had the attention from us that we believe to be their due. 

When a man neglects his pipe these high interests must 
suffer. The last two days of fine weather and sunshine 
have worked a great change, and now the pipes are 
smoking gaily, and the scientific instruments are being 
polished up and attended to with great regularity and 
solemnity. The possible results from the notes of the 
men of science of this expedition may, and probably will 


be, of the greatest interest to all peoples, and may 


48 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


materially affect the progress of man, therefore the subject 
should be approached with decent calm and solemnity. 

Imbued with such a spirit of reverence, I offered to 
assist the doctor with the preparation of his tow-net and 
line. The tow-net, I must explain to the uninitiated, is a 
conical bag of silk gauze slung on a metal ring, much 
resembling a jelly-bag in shape,—but perhaps there are 
those who know not the homely jelly-bag! For those, I 
would liken it to a landing-net, and continue. The tow- 
net was large, and the line attached was long, thin, and 
hard. Having uncoiled this line on deck, upset the coil, 
made all ready in a proper and seamanlike manner, the 
net was dropped over the stern and the ship continued its 
course without a pause. We were doing our best speed 
—a modest five knots—at the time, and naturally the line 
went at the same rate through the four hands of the doctor 
and myself. A salmon line, with a forty-pounder’s first 
rush, caz touch up your fingers, bug§ I warrant this new 
whip cord, burning through our hands, was a higher style 
of experience ; and, if it had not been for a timely hitch 
round the taffrail, the doctor and I might now be studying 
science with mermaids. 

The doctor used a net afterwards about the size of a 
small butterfly-net. We made a splendid haul. In the 
few hundred yards the net was dragged we caught some 
millions of animalculae that would scarcely have felt 
crowded in a wine glass. We diluted a teaspoonful of the 
mixture in a tumbler of water and gloated for hours over 
its marvellous beauty. There were minute crustaceans, 


clad in glittering coats of medizval armour, transparent 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 49 


bells, visible by the fairy iridescence of their palpitating 
outlines, microscopic cuttle-fish and minute jellies, each 
with its own costume and colouring, varied and har- 
monious, schemes from which a lady could choose a 
dress or an artist the colours for his picture. All were 
struggling, powerfully and blindly, to find their way 
through the dim glass that divided them from the sunlight 
that came pouring into the cabin through the open hatch, 
struggling as if the fate of worlds depended on their indi- 
vidual efforts. And this little world of ours does depend 
on their existence; for, as each dies, his tiny shell and 
spiny armour sink slowly down through the ocean depths 
—far deeper than the depths to which the bones of the 
great whales go—there they rest and form the deposits 
that will form the beds of the peoples of the time to 


come. 


Friday we keep acgording to the rules of the Mother 
Church, and eat fish—the dried stock-fish one sees in 
grocers’ shops, but rarely sees on the table; and most 
excellent food it is when served with sea hunger for sauce. 

We had hopes of porpoise steak this morning—a suc- 
culent dish—but you have to catch your porpoise first, 
and we find they always disappear when the harpoon is 
brought out. The way to spear them is as follows:—The 
most venturesome of the crew—one who can swim and 
doesn’t mind a ducking, preferred—takes a hand harpoon 
and gets out on the martingale. (The martingale is a 
short spar projecting downwards from the end of the 


bowsprit, and the bowsprit is what sticks out in front of a 
D 


50 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


vessel, on which the jibboom rests.) He clings to this 
with one hand, with his feet on the stays and the harpoon 
in his free hand, and the line attached to the harpoon is 
passed to the men on the focsle-head. Whilst he hangs 
on, occasionally getting a dip into the waves, the crew 
lean over the bow and give advice and hold on to the line. 
The porpoise comes dashing round the vessel right under 
her bow. Down goes the harpoon, fair and true into its 
back, the crew haul away on the line, which is rove 
through a block, and up comes the sea-pig, kicking and 
spluttering in mid-air. A running bowline is then 
chucked round his tail, and he is hauled on deck amidst 
great applause, and handed over to our gallant cook. 

We executed all the above manceuvres, except that of 
bringing the pig on boatd. LEither the porpoises dis- 
appeared just when we were ready for them, or the har- 


poon drew out of their backs. 


... The air is warm, the sky grey, and the wind in the 
S.W. Weare only getting very slowly ahead. If we could 
just continue this course for a couple of days we would 
make the south coast of Portugal. One of the vexations 
of a long ocean voyage is that one passes within a few 
hundred miles of so many interesting places which one 
would give anything to see, and yet may not land. What 
would I not give just now to see our helm put up and a 
course made for shore, to land and stretch one’s legs on 
solid ground, to see Velasquez and eat oranges? 

We brought forth Kipling’s Ballads to-day for the 


general diversion, The writer is wrong to suggest, in one 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 51 


of his poems, that a thirst can only be raised somewhere 
‘East of Suez.’ We are considerably west of that, and 
the thirst raised by this warm weather and salt sea air is 
remarkable! The mere mention of oranges makes us feel 
parched. The worst of it is, that outside the medicine- 
chest, there is absolutely nothing to quench our thirst but 
lime-juice and tepid water of many flavours. It is re- 
ported thatssome bottles of Talisker were put on board by 
some unknown friends for the crew on New Year's Day, 
or other great occasions. But these have not appeared 
yet, and it is a weary time to wait till the New Year, 

The men did not rise to Kipling’s Tommy Atkins 
rhymes at all; but it was a treat to see how ‘ The Bolivar’ 
went down. How they cussed when they read it! Not 
one of our old hands but had sailed on just such a coffin- 
ship,—old, over-insured, undermanned, meant to founder. 
Such vessels are getting scarce, thanks to Plimsoll and his 
white mark, though it unfortunately is a moveable object. 
How the men bless his name! Their own united efforts 
have done much to do away with the evils of a sailor’s life, 
and at present the leader of the S. F. Union is fighting 
for a scale of provisions to be regulated by Government. 
At present men are far too dependent on the generosity 
of owners and masters in this respect. In two ships 
they have enough properly cooked food, whilst in the 


third—a dog’s food is more plentiful and better served. 


Saturday, 24th September.—Lat. 46.53; long. 13.49. 
Calm as calm can be. Last night we were bowling along 
at seven knots, a tremendous speed for us, and this 


52 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


morning we lie rolling on a leaden grey sea, with the 
sails flapping, and all the blocks creaking and complaining. 
George, the second mate, is walking up and down the poop 
whistling quietly and looking hopelessly round the horizon 
for the least air. We may not boil the kettle (steam), for 
the coals must be economised, so we resort to the bag- 
pipes and play half-a-dozen pibrochs and a lament or two, 
to bring up a fresh breeze. If you play the-right tune, 
and play it long enough, you can always work up a breeze, 
even a gale, possibly. The pipes brought the breeze, but 
unfortunately it was dead ahead; still it was better to 
move, even in the wrong direction, than to lie bucketing our 
masts out on a glassy swell. And it was also satisfactory, 
to prove finally that piping has an effect on the wind. I 
have long known this from personal experience, but it 
has other effects that are perhaps not so generally recog- 
nised. For instance, a pipe-tune will make salmon take 
and pike revive on the hottest day in summer and feed 
voraciously. They make wakeful children sleep, enchant 
red deer, and seals come out of the sea and listen in such 


rapt attention, that you can shoot them—if you so please. 


Mats & nos moutons, the various impressions of an artist at 
sea. Impressions innumerable, so many varied and new, 
that, secing them, I can do no serious work—an ideal state 
of affairs. The broad daylight and the flood of sunlight 
is so bright and dazzling that the colours and forms of 
the groups of workers on deck are blurred together, and 
each figure is blotted into the patch of intense shadow 


which it throws on the hot, yellow decks. Up aloft the men 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


wi 
Go 


on the yards and rigging are seen,—dusky, foreshortened 
figures against the broad shadowy sails, Forward, the 
smith is thumping soft red iron on his ringing anvil, 
whilst his mate works the bellows, sending the smoke 
curling aloft, faint blue against the shadows in the hollows 
of the sails, and rusty red as it swirls across the patches 


of blue sky. In the shadow thrown on deck by the fore- 


sail, men are tarring spun yarn and weaving mats for 


chaffing-gear, and the carpenter sweats in the heat as he 
chops with his adze at the yellow pitch-pine spar for our 
new jibboom, making great chips fly into the sunlight 
like lumps of gold. 

No two days are quite alike; but always when the sun 
sets there is the same rich light filling our decks, lighting 


brown faces under broad white hats with a ruddy glow, 


54 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


blending and softening the various groups on deck with 
a rich golden light that makes one think of the yellow 
depths of a Titian. 

I would hardly have believed that a Sunday at sea 
could be so different from the other days of the week. 
To-day, on the Balena, this is the case. The men have 
the whole Sunday given to them for rest to their bodies, 
—when there is no work to be done. And they do 
appreciate it. It is warm to-day, and sunny, and there 
is a peace and quietness that quite passes anything 
we know on shore. No hideous belis clash and bang, 
advertising with vulgar discordancy God knows what 
sort of churches. No heated preachers are for ever telling 
the way to be good, labouring to save sinners, But 
great Nature sits on our stem and soothes our souls, 
and shows how good is The Beautiful, and how beautiful 
is The Good. And the sea and the breeze whisper to 
us sweet secrets of the glorious day to come, when we 
shall resolve into universal life and begin to live again, 
in the wind and the sea and the sunlight. A Sunday at 
sea, under God’s sky, is a day from Eternity ; a Sunday in 
town a day from Hell. The crew lie in luxurious repose 
on the focsle-head, curled up in the anchor flukes and 
chains, smoking, or stretched flat on their backs reading 
novels, or old letters. Some are sewing. One of them 
is sitting on the foot of the bowsprit sewing at a pair 
of canvas trousers, and a boy on the capstan-head 
watches him with lazy interest. Below, on the fore- 
deck, one or two are washing themselves, getting at 


least the rough of the tar off before they put on clean 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 55 


clothes. Here is a jotting of one of our many barbers 
at work. ~ 

It is a pity 
we have so 
few books on ; 
board. Our : 
men are fond 


of reading, but 


iby 
z 
= 


unfortunately 
all the litera- AW 
ture supplied 


for them con- 


sists of a very 
juvenile style of 


literature, most- 


ly pamphlets 
and tracts. 
Philanthropic persons might lend a few good books to 
such a large ship's company when going on so long 
a cruise; Scott, Shakespeare, or the like, how they 
would be appreciated! The men have the utmost rever- 
ence for books. The few I was able to lend forward, 
came back, after being read by the crew, carefully 
covered, and as unthumbed as if they had come from 
the printer’s. 

I had a look at some of the above-mentioned literature, 
which is served out to the crew in weekly instalments. 
The bound volumes are sent on board for cabin use, and 
the pamphlets for the crew. The first piece was called 


Discontented Fanny, a simple tale with a moral, about a 


56 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


little girl who coveted another little girl’s frock, or whose 
own frock did not fit—I forget which; but it seemed to 
me hardly the sort of thing to give a man to read on a 
nine months’ cruise. Sermons in Candles was a book with 
a binding, sent for the cabin. It dealt, in extremely subtle 
allegories, of candles and ethics, One hundred and sixty- 
nine pages of similes there were, between candles (wax 
and tallow) and religious principles: ¢.¢., ‘If you have no 
candle-stick, a ginger-beer bottle does mightily well. How 


In the dog-watch. 


often our Lord has used men of scanty education!’ This 
may be true, but is it not a pity that such similes should 
have to rough it on a whaler? All thanks, though, to 
those who gave the books: their intentions were kindly. 
Last night our engine stopped grinding: what a relief 
it was! It is a tiny machine, but the doctor and I sleep 
right above it, so we have the full benefit of the vibrations. 


The change from the throbbing and the ‘in-and-out’ 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 57 


steamer’s motion to the quiet gliding of the sailing ship 
is very pleasant. The sound of the lip-lapping of the sea 
against the ship’s side just reaches us in our bunks 


through the thick wooden sides. 


Tuesday, 27th.—Lat. 42.24; long. 14.25. A Danish 
ship passed us to-day; she came up from leeward, 
passed unsler our stern, and faded out of sight in a 
veil of mist ahead of us and to windward. She was 
sailing quite two points closer than we could. She had 
a windmill working her pump, an arrangement much 


despised by our sailors—without reason, I think, as it 


saves an immense amount of work. We have to pump 
ship every four hours, and it takes about ten minutes each 
time. After heavy weather and the ship has been 
straining we have to pump her for about half an hour out 
of each watch. The pump stands at the foot of the main- 
mast inside the fife-zail, and has a handle on either side ; 
some of the watch turn the hands and the rest stand in a 
line along the deck and haul on a rope attached to the 
pump handle each time it comes up. As we pump, the 
chantie (pronounced shanty) man trolls out some old sea 
song, and after each line all hands join in the refrain. 
Some of our men have a large stock of these songs. 
Most of them are sung to sad, minor tunes, with some- 
times almost meaningless, but time-honoured words. The 
airs have much of the dignity of early Norse and Gaelic 
tunes, quite unlike any modern music ; when and where 
they originated I should like well to know. Here is one 


of them that the men sung frequently. It refers to some 


58 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


ideal skipper, beloved by his crew, who had died and gone 
to his rest a long time ago. 


Chantie man sings 


6 eS 3 | 3 = =a S| 


6% 
Oh, Storm - ie’s gone, the good old man. 
All sing. Chantie man. 
=5=55555-=2 
: ‘eo _l-#2_e— eel e—¢ = 
7 Aye, aye, aye, Mis-ter Storm - a-+long. Oh, Storm -ie’s gone, that 
All. 
| oe Ihe, 
é* SS es ee | 
@ aS arms e zi == 
good old man, To be with you Storm - a -_ long. 
Chantie man: We dug his grave with a golden spade, 
All: Aye, aye, aye, Mister Storm-along ; 
Chantie man: His shroud of finest silk was made, 
idle: To be with you, Storm-along. 


We lowered him with a silver chain, 
Aye, aye, aye, Mister Storm-along ; 
Our eyes were dim with mére than rain, 
To be with you, Storm-along. 
* * * * 
And now he lies in an earthen bed, 
Aye, aye, aye, Mister Storm-along ; 
Our hearts are sore, our eyes are red, 
To be with you, Storm-along. 
* * * * 
Old Stormie heard the Angel call, 
Aye, aye, aye, Mister Storm-along ; 
So sing his dirge now one and all, 
To be with you, Storm-along. 


Think of this very slowly chanted, in time to the clank 


of the pump, the waves surging over the decks, sky and 


sea grey, and the wind booming through the shrouds 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 59 


overhead, and you have as dreary a scene as can well be 
pictured. 

In some ways this sea life is much against painting or 
drawing. The fresh air and the full light and the simple 
life are all favourable, but the want of exercise is a great 
drawback. If it was not for the pumping, which slightly 
resembles bar-bell exercise, I should get into a too en- 
feebled condition to draw a line. The doctor endeavours 
to keep in good form by systematically promenading up 
and down the poop; but that is most awfully monotonous, 
and walking has such a bad effect in unsteadying the 
hand for drawing. Fencing or boxing are the exercises 
for a man who does fine work with his hands and head. 
They keep the nerves steady and the eye clear; but of 
all exercises they are least suited for a ship’s deck. 

One of the results of this lazy life is that my journal 
notes become reduced to the shortest, as :—‘ Jotting before 
breakfast, hands washing deck; no go. Made pochade ; 
sky, calm sea; cumuli; inferior oleograph. Slept; read; 
tried walking poop—poor sport. Attempted drawing 
‘stowaways’—no go. Made jotting sunset—one of Scien- 
tific Series (the third)—won’t continue them. Played 
pipes. —What a day of fruitless attempts and consequent 
misery! No wonder the pipes were resorted to, and no 
doubt wailed out the most melancholy dirges. 

The moon rose in its utmost glory to-night right ahead 
of the ship: how grand our sails look, like great bat’s 
wings! Between the bend of the foot of the sails and the 
yards the dusky blue light shows. Some dark figures lie 


out noiselessly on the lower yard and clew up the main- 


60 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


sail, for the wind is right aft, and the foresail is shaking ; 
then they come down the shrouds, stepping noiselessly 
with bare feet on the bending ratlins, blots of dark-blue 
shadow against the moonlit sky. Nick and I lean with 
our elbows on the bulwarks and watch the shifting path 
of moonlight on the waves. He tells me long stories of 
all the world in a quiet, sub- 
dued voice, that goes well with 
the stillness and the moonlight. 
It was many years ago when 
he left Innisphail. Now the 
world is his country and 
Dundee his home. He has 
served in every berth on board 
all kind of crafts in many 
trades—in racing schooners, 


in the Channel fruit trade, 


in clippet ships to China, in 
ocean tramps, liners, trawlers, yachts, and whalers in 
the Arctic. He went up to Franz-Joseph Land with 
Mr. Leigh Smith when they relieved Nordenskeold in 
Spitzbergen in ’73. What interested me most in his 
description of that land was the picture he drew of 
the lonely graveyards on the shores there, where the 
whaling men were buried centuries ago. One hundred 
and fifty whaling vessels used to sail from the port of 
Hull alone. Fleets sailed from London, Poole, and Liver- 
pool, so the graves were not then unvisited ; now it is 
but rarely a voyager looks at the rough wooden crosses 


and the grey stones, . . 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 61 


We have made up on our Danish friend, for we have 
been steaming, and the wind is light and southerly. So far 
as I am concerned, the greatest event on board or in this 
round world was the painting of my bunk. I did it my- 
self. Unfortunately, I allowed myself to follow gratuitous 
advice, and first coated it with carbolic; and the smell 
of the paint and carbolic mixture afterwards was bad— 
bad even on a whaler. The moral is scarcely new; but it 
is intensely true: Never follow gratuitous advice, and in 
art matters go your own way if you have any; most 
people have none. 

The only other event—quite a trifling one by Jock 
Harvey’s account, was his driving a marline-spike into 
his arm while he was working at something on the mizzen- 
top. He merely clapped a quid of tobacco on the hole 
and went on with his work ; then when he came on deck, 
seeing that there was a doctor on board, he came aft and 
had it bandaged. There is no mistake, a sea life makes 
men hardy. 

Finished my drawing of Nick bringing aft the soup. 
It is of the kind called ‘popular pictures. Here is 
what the engraver calls a reproduction. God forgive 
him, and may we artists be forgiven our too great 
obligingness in painting too much of what is asked, and 
not enough of what we please. It is difficult to avoid 
aiming at momentary popularity on board; the men are 
so flattering in their criticisms, and so good-natured and 
interested in my drawings, that it is difficult not to paint 
only what they most readily understand. 

Sometimes for the good of my soul I indulge in fan- 


‘dnos ay] ye Sursurag 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 63 


tasies, paint colour pictures—attempts to express thought 
rather than form. How they puzzle these critics! Unlike 
the artistic middle classes, they look at pictures with no 
narrow preconceived notions, and at once recognise there 
is an idea that they cannot quite grasp. Their puzzled 
looks remind me of the expression of a staghound I once 
saw with its fore-feet on a wainscot studying the figures 
in a Féte Champétre by Watteau. Our second mate, a 
big, energetic, bustling, blue-eyed, light-haired fellow, 
who delights in seeing ropes, spars, and portraits set up 
in a picture, gets quite wild when he sets his eye on 
these things that he feels he can’t quite grip. 


(Saturday) ‘ Plum-duff day’—I wish I could relate some 
of the stories we hear at table at meal-times ; all our party 
have seen something of the world abroad, so there is no 
end to them. We have Arctic tales of sport and adven- 
ture, whaling stories naturally being the most popular. 
We had some of the experiences of one of our party this 
morning—a short, obese little man, not a good story- 
teller, but familiar with that strange life up in the north. 
He described the days not long past when the Shetlands 
provided the Dundee and Peterhead ships with their 
crews. The ships put into Lerwick on their way north, 
where agents supplied the men, much as they now supply 
men to the Scotch whalers for the seal-fishing in New- 
foundland in the spring of the year. 

The men’s shore debts to these agents, who were store- 
keepers as well, were paid in advance by the shipping 


companies out of the men’s wages, and their kit and 


64 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


private stores for the voyage were covered in the same 
way, so the men were pretty well bound to resort to 
the agents soon after their return. The companies, with 
the humanity characteristic of companies in general, and 
for the men’s benefit, no doubt, forbade the agents to 
send men on board with supplies of drink. As there were 
no objections made to their being supplied with soap, 
the agents got over the restriction by giving the men 
whisky and iteming it in their accounts as bar soap, so the 
amount of bar soap taken on board these ships by the 
men was alarming. When the men were well over summer 
Plimsoll line with the equivalent for bar soap,they naturally 
found some difficulty in getting on board, especially as it 
was the custom to take with them anything of value that 
came in their way that was neither too hot nor too heavy. 
Our narrator described his bringing on board one of the 
men who is with us here,—who, in this happy condition, 
had gone astray and wandered info the country and 
looted a farm-house of all the ducks. It must have been 
a strange picture, this stuffy little black-haired, red-faced 
sailor staggering along the shore with our sixteen-stone 
blond pirate on his shoulders, quite unconscious, but 
grimly hanging on to the ducks. 

Plum-duff day is a conspicuous day in the week, 
distinguished from the other six by this very delightful 
pudding being served to all the ship’s company. The 
name is slightly misleading, as it is at least suggestive 
of plums. But sea plum-duff, though it is very good, 
especially with treacle on the top of it, isin no way 
connected with plums. We have, however, more modern 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 65 


dishes on our 7zenu than this last. ‘Electric Soup,’ as 
its name suggests, is quite a new sea-dish. It is like the 
Argonaut soup mentioned by one of the ‘Three in 
Norway, and is not considered nutritive. The richest 
sea-dishes have the simplest names and the simplest 
dishes the most sensational. ‘Dandy Funk,’ and ‘ Strike 
me Blind,’ suggest rich, spicy dishes, whereas the first 
is simply ship-biscuit broken into powder and mixed up 
with molasses, ‘Strike me Blind’ has its sensational 
name from its absolute innocuousness; it consists of 
boiled rice and molasses. We have it on Fridays, and 
the crew say it is not a good thing to work on. ‘ Dead 
Dog’ is rather a horrid name given to pounded biscuit, 
mixed with salt beef and margarine (butter preferred), 
and roasted in the oven. The pleasant quality of this 
dish is its elasticity: after loosening one’s teeth with 
months of hard biscuit the elastic feeling is a welcome 
sensation. ‘ Harriet Lane’ is one of the simple dishes,— 
a sort of brawn. 
The men like it, 
but don’t often 
get it. 

ee ee aye 
of heat and rest 


and disappoint- 


ment. We saw 
a turtle asleep, 
and we thought 


we would catch 


it. If we had not been steaming we should probably 
EK 


66 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


have done so, but the beating of the screw wakened 
him, and he went below. The crew are turning out in 
regular tropical kit now. A dungaree jacket, trousers, 
a belt, and broad straw hat is about all. 


Tuesday.—The wind has freshened, and is blowing 
from the N.W., and we are bowling along merrily. But 
it ought to be blowing from the N.E., for we are in the 
track of the trades for this time of the year, so the Books 
say. Yesterday was very hot, with towering white cumuli 
rolling up from the horizon almost to the zenith, perfectly 
reflected in the calm, 
steely-blue sea, On 


such hot, still days 


we feel very lazy, and 
this northerly breeze 


is welcomed by all. 
» We signalled a. 
steamer this morning, 
the first we have 
spoken to. The flags, 
as they lay strewn 
about the poop, looked 
splendid in the bright 
sunlight. How crude 


they look at home in 
our delicate grey light ! 
Here, the reflected complementary tints are so vivid that 
the crudity of the primary red, yellow, and blue colours 


disappears. I spent the afternoon splicing loops to the 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 67 


flags, and then had a spell at the wheel, and poor sport 
it was. I would as soon driveadray horse. The pleasure 
of steering seems to be in inverse proportion to the size 
of the vessel. When a craft is over five tons, then the 
subtlety and pleasure of steering begins to go. When the 
wind, the sail, the tiller and the hand are one, joined by 
the same delicate thread of sensation, then there is perfect 
pleasure. But to steer our good ship Balena with a 
wind on the quarter is rough-and-tumble work. 

These light winds, head winds, and calms are beginning 
to make us all suspect there is something wrong about 
our ship. What is wrong, we scarcely know! Some 
say there is a man on board who has left his tailor’s bill 
unpaid, and there is a talk of burning somebody’s effigy 
to see what effect that would have on the wind; but the 
difficulty is, whose effigy is to be burned? Suspicion has 
fallen on a black cat that leads a dog’s life on board. It 
goes wandering abou? the deck, and belongs to no one in 
particular. This morning it got itself into trouble by 
coming aft the mainmast from the focsle, where it is 
supposed to have its quarters. Fora focsle hand to do 
this without orders is a heinous offence. It then stole 
into the first mate’s bunk, where he was enjoying his well- 
earned four hours below. When the mate felt it stealing 
over his legs his actions were prompt and his language 
explicit, and so were the cat’s. Then it made its way into 
the cabin, that Holy of Holies, and in its expulsion 
endangered our curry, which we were doing our best to 
balance on the table; thence it got down into the sailroom, 


and in the dark, amongst the wet sails, sorrowed for itself. 


68 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


George, the second mate, found it there, and though he 
has a sailor’s reverence for cats, and is generally fond of 
animals, he felt it was his duty to do away with it. 

... At 2 P.M. this Tuesday the cat was dropped over 
board with a piece of furnace-bar tied to its neck. 

Since we made a Jonah of the cat, we have had two 
perfect sailing days, with a clear sky and warm sun, and 
blue white-crested waves tumbling under our counter. 

Poor beast! how it would 

have enjoyed some warm 
corner on deck now!. . . 

I have not yet introduced 

Willie Watson in my log. 

I must dosohere. He is 

 one of the jolliest characters 

on board. Some call him 

| Willie Watson, others ‘ Dee 


[ Dong} from his generally 


Frenchie appearance and 


4 


= lively wit. But Willie 
| ¢ Watson, The Hayne, Car- 


y  noustie, would find him 


—SSS== 
= 
SX 


—= 


any day. I was talking to 


him to-night for a long time 


under the break of the poop. 


AM 
Wy i ’ x 


rs 


4 It was just the sort of night 
ME. 


for story-telling: everything 
was quiet, the sails aloft were all asleep in each other's 
shadows, and the Balzena rolled gently before the north 


wind, and at every roll the dark warm sea came flopping 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC €9 


in at the scuppers, filling the waist with glittering liquid 
moonlight. 

Willie is of the sea, as his parents were before him, and 
has lived in every corner of the world, and has served in 
many trades. Like five sailors out of every ten, he ran 
away to sea when he was a boy. Then he took to line 
and herring fishing, travelled with Wombwell’s menagerie, 
sailed in the nitre trade till he grew tired of the Horn, 
went whaling to the Arctic, tired of that, carried golf clubs 
at Carnoustie links, netted salmon in the Tay, with 
every now and then a spell at the deep sea. He came 
on this trip almost by accident,—one of these chances 
that give a sailor’s life its zest. Having scraped together 
a few pounds, he left his quiet fishing village and went to 
Glasgow to take ship to any part of the world on any ship 
that might be going, Fortunately his friend, the station- 
master at Carnoustie, persuaded him to buy a return 
ticket, and when he*had spent the last of his cash with 
some old sea-cronies that he fell in with in Glasgow, he 
was still able to get back to Dundee instead of being 
Shanghaied from some boarding-house. At Dundee he 
found the Balana in the dry dock fitting out for the 
Antarctic, and gaily danced across the gangway plank at 
the risk of his neck, and promised to sign articles; and 
right glad we all are he did so, for we need such jovial 
spirits on board to keep things going cheerily. Whilst 
yarning away to each other, he used a number of ex- 
-pressions that had a slightly French sound about them, 
so I asked him where he picked them up, and to my 
surprise he told me that, in addition to his other ad- 


70 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


ventures, he had served in the French army. He had put 
into Rochefort or Charente, I forget which, in a trading 
schooner in ’71, and the bounty money of forty francs 
offered for recruits was not to be resisted. So he just left 
his ship, without any formalities, and ‘listed’ with some 
two hundred volunteers, mostly Scotch and Irish. ‘No 
vary likely callants,’ he explained, ‘a sort of pick-me-up lot, 
ne’er-do-weel lads, like mysel’, ye ken.’ The:forty francs 
were spent in a couple of days, but the spree Willie 
remembers to this day. ‘Eh, sir, they blithe French 
lassies, let alane the reid wine,—there’s jist nae abstainin’ 
frae them. They countrie folk, tae, they’re a’ dacent 
bodies—mony’s the guid meal I’ve had frae them, sittin’ 
by the roadside, or ben the farm-hoose,—gin there’s 
mair war in France, it’ll no’ be lang afore they see 
Willie Watson back til them. They gied us a’ braw new 
uniform, tae, a’ blue an’ yellie an’ reid. Save us, but the 
auld folk at hame wouldna hae kent‘me! Syne they took 
us a’ to a grand muckle hoose, a’ windies and guns, an’ 
gied me a gun an’ a bagonette—nae drilling ava, jist 
pit us intil a yaird an’ telt us, “Ye’re gendarms noo, 
gang and fecht the Proosians,” deil the Proosian was 
to be seen in a’ the country-side, an’ a’ we had to dae 
was to gang aye tramping up and doon they boulivards 
in the sun and the stour wi’ a musket at oor shouthers, 
—gey drouthy wark it was, tae, an’ gin it hadna been 
for they bonnie black-eyed wenches an’ they wine-shops, 
we wouldna hae tholed the sodgerin’ muckle langer. 
... Eh, sir, but I was skeered ae day coming oot 0’ 


ane o’ they wine-shanties after slockin’ the drouth wi’ 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 71 


some freen’s; wha should I see but the auld man, the 
skipper, ye ken, coming doon the road fou, and by wi’ his 
weather e’e glowering frae under his bannet. Ma certie, 
an’ I was skeered. The auld man was coming up ahint 
me, and stracht aheid there were twa gendarms steering 
richt athwart ma coorse, sae what to dae I didna ken. 
A daurdna gang ben the public-hoose, and daurdna meet 
the auld man. Weel, I jist had to gae stracht forrart, and 
brocht ma hand up to ma bannet, sodger-like, when the 
twa officeers gaed by. Thinks I, that will stooner ye, 
Mr. 
that gait, but up he comes astarn, aye keeking ower his 


, but na, na, the auld man wasna to be daffed 


shouther as he gaed by; but I keepit ma heid 7’ the air, an’ 
ye ken I had they French whiskers, so it wasna jist sae 
easy for him to ken me. At last he slewed round and 
looks me stracht i the face and says he, ‘ Wullie Watson, 
is that you?’ ‘Voolzey voo, Mongsieur!’ says I. ‘Mi no 


savez. That’s the French, ye ken, for But I’m no 
jist mindin’ the richt translation the noo. Ony way, it gar’d 
the auld man look sae blate that it was maist a’ I could 
dae no’ to lauch outricht. Weel, awa’ gaed the auld man, 
and I sees him gang intill the hottle where he aye bided 
when the Zay was in port, and, thinks I, Ill no’ be fashed 
wi ye ony mair; but wha should come oot twa meenits 
efter but Tam Robson, ocr first mate! I didna see him, 
ye understan’, for I was trampin’ doon the road tither gait 
whustling the ‘Piper o’ Dundee,’ an’ whiles havering to my- 
sel’ aboot that fusionless carlin wha didna ken his ain man 
wha had sailed wi’ him they twa years forbye, when, save 
us, I got a clout i’ the braid o’ my back that brocht me 


72 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


up a’ stannin’, an’ wha wad it be but Robson, whustling 
the Piper, an’ lauching whiles. ‘Guid-day to you, an’ hoo’s 
a’ wi’ ye, matie, quo’ he, ‘an’ whaur did ye get the braw 
duds an’ the gun? Man, but ye’re braw! I’m thinkin’ 
the folks in Carnoustie would weel like to see ye noo, ma 
bonnie laddie.’ Eh, but I was fair dang dyght, and thocht 
there would be a grand splore; but Tam was ane of the 
richt sort, an’ said he would put a’ richt wt’ the auld 
man. Sae we gaed ben an’ had anither stoup o’ the reid 
wine, Ay, certie, we did a’ that... . 

Next day Willie was taken off the patrol duty, as being 
more suited to live on water, and was sent up the Seine 
in a flat, to send provisions into Paris in balloons. And 
at last he saw the Proosians, and plenty of them. He and 
his mates were lying in the flat fast to the bank amongst 
the rushes, when the ‘ Proosian came doon like cushats on 
the neips’ (pigeons on the turnips). They pulled bushes 
and reeds over the craft, and lay trembling till the enemy 
disappeared, when they went hastily down the river again. 

The most dramatic of the many incidents he had to relate 
of the war time was the fate of two German sailors. He told 
it simply, and with the light dramatic touch that only comes 
to men who have lived amongst events and scenes. A 
raconteur would become fashionable had he Willie’s skill. 

A German barque had managed to get into Rochefort 
with provisions and ammunition. Having discharged the 
cargo, the men got loose about the town, contrary to 
orders, and two brothers in particular became riotous, and 
hectored it over the townsmen in the cafés. Finally, one 


cast his eye on a Frenchman’s girl; Frenchie objected 
y girl 5 I} : 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 73 


and in the row that followed Frenchie was killed by a 
stab from one of the brothers’ knives—zv/ose knife, 
neither would confess. To settle the matter quite fairly, 
the brothers were taken down to the river and posted on 
either side, and bade to shoot at each other. Willie stood 
in the neighbourhood of one of them as a sort of second, 
and his man was the quickest and nailed the brother on 
the opposite side. 

So we yarn away in subdued voices till some one wakes 
and shouts: ‘ Heave the log,’ and the deck becomes alive 
with dusky figures. Forward, eight bells is struck; the 
watch below come on deck into the blue moonlight, 
rubbing their eyes. Willie and I say good-night, light 
our pipes, and turn in. 


This is a pencil jotting of chequers on the main hatch. Bonnar is playing 
the bo’sun for the championship, the first mate on the right, the engineer 
and the cook’s mate on the left giving advice. 


CHAPTER VI 


OL TOBER 6th.—Lat. 30.30 ; long. 20.4. Old Horse day. 
The cat’s wind has held fair, and the Balena, with a 
white feather in her teeth, bowls merrily soutkward. 

The Old Horse came out in great style. The sailors 
consider that they do their first month’s work at sea for 
nothing, having received the month’s pay in advance 
when they signed articles, and the old horse is made an 
emblem of this month, and is hanged. I fail to see the 
analogy between an old horse and an unpaid month’s 
work, but I am told that it is quite evident. However, I 
relate the incident as I saw it. It may be a custom of the 
past in a few years, for the reason that men are now 
trying to have their wages paid weekly. They would like 
to have a portion of their first pay handed them in 
advance, and would like their wives to receive their half 
pay in weekly, instead of in monthly, instalments. There 
are several other regulations they wish to have formed as 
to their pay; for instance, that in case of shipwreck, 
they should receive pay up to date of reaching home, 
or at least till they make land, or a port. If we were to 
lose this ship in the Antarctic and lived in the boats or on 
the ice for a month or so, and then had the good fortune 
to be picked up by one of our companion vessels and 
brought home alive, the men would only be entitled to 


claim pay up to the moment the ship went down, and 
74 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 75 


instead of returning with their pockets full of money, they 
would arrive in debt to their employers for the cost of 
their board on the vessel that took them home, whilst the 
owners by insurance might lose nothing, and might even 
profit by the wreck. This seems hardly a considerate 
arrangement in regard to the men; and if employers 
would still be employers, they ought to be very con- 
siderate in this respect, or the time will come for sailors 
to work for their united interest, and the consideration 
of the employers will be of no account. 

For some days reports have come aft from the focsle 
that the horse was being constructed. When I heard an 
unfamiliar song being chanted this afternoon, I went 
forward and found the men hauling on two lines that led 
down to the focsle-hatch. At the end of the lines came 
the dummy horse, made of wood and canvas, bestrode by 
Braidy, arrayed in a scarlet flannel jacket and a black 
jockey’s cap. The horse was supported on either side and 
at its latter end by some of the old hands. As the hatch 
is very steep, they had some difficulty in hauling up the 
horse and its rider properly and in time to the chant. 
At last they got him on deck and then began a slow 
march round the ship, going aft on the starboard side, 
round the poop, and forward again by the port side. The 
procession really made a splendid picture-subject, the 
colouring of the men’s clothes in the sunlight was so varied 
and so harmonious; there was faded blue, and purple, 
and pale green, and a sky-blue Tam-o’-Shanter, and all the 
faces and arms were dyed nut-brown by the sun. In the 
middle of the group sat Braidy in his scarlet coat, with 


76 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


the brown unpainted wood of the bulwarks and the blue 
sea above forming a back-ground. Round the deck they 
went singing ‘The Old Horse, chanting the time-honoured 
song with all solemnity, making the old horse plunge at 
times, for they had to pull it along the deck in short jerks 
to keep time to the tune, In the lee channels the sea was 
frothing white, and I thought Braidy would come off, for 


the horse grew very restive there ; but he held to its neck. 


Under the foreyard the procession halted, and a running 
bowline was dropped over the horse’s head, and Braidy 
got off, and to a second mournful chant it was hauled up 
to the yard’s-arm. It was a curious, quaint, and pretty 
performance ; the solemn seriousness of the whole affair 
and the suppressed childish fun were in extreme contrast. 
For a minute the horse hung swinging against the bright 
sky, then a man lay out along the yard and drew his 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 77 


knife across the line, and the ‘Poor Old Horse’ dropped 
with a splash into the blue waves and floated sadly astern. 
These are some of the words of the song, and the air as 


nearly as I can remember it. 


THE OLD: HORSE 


Chantie man sings. All sing. 


5 es ee ee ee a 
<p Sse 
wey, Y eS 


They say my horse is dead andgone, And they say so, and they 


ot : = = 5 
=< z Sees i fer seer =| 
1S Sa a ee ee 


hope so! They say my horse is dead and gone; Oh, 

S| | re ms ; wi 

=e! 
6 eae Se ir ee ee : 

a eee 
poor old man ! 
Chantie Man: For one long month I rode him hard, 
All together: And the¥ say so, and they hope so! 
Chantie Man: For one long month I rode him hard ; 
Alle; Oh, poor old man ! 
* * * % % 


But if he’s dead 1’ll bury him low, 
And they say so, and they hope so! 
But if he’s dead I'll bury him low ; 
Oh, poor old man! 

* * * * % 
Then drop him to the depths of the sea, 
And they say so, and they hope so! 
Then drop him to the depths of the sea; 
Oh, poor old man ! 


After the tragedy came a reaction. The bo’sun chaffed 
Peter,—Peter White, cook of the Balzna, in full. Peter 


78 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


replied with a bucket of water, and before you could say 
‘knife, water was flying in every direction. Peter bolted 
himself into his galley, but was washed out from the 
hatch in the roof. What a battle that was! It began in 
the afternoon and raged till night with unabated fury. 


Swish—swish—went the buckets, filled in the ship’s 


waist, till there wasn’t a dry spot from stem to stern. The 
moon rose and poured down its soft light on a fantastic 
scene, on black, soaking figures with glittering, clinging 
clothes, wildly struggling in the foaming channels and 
slinging water right and left. Such a scene of devilment 
and fun, to be remembered in the quiet days of propriety 


at home. 


Cake. Rab) 


OULD the reader like to have the full and true 
account of how it came about that William 
Brannan and his chum Terrence M‘Machon came to stow- 
away on the Balena? I have already told how we sent 
twelve of these poor lads home as we went down the Tay. 
This William Brannan is one of the two who escaped the 
search and came with us. He is about sixteen, pale and 
dreamy-looking, but strong, and has an exquisite voice. 
Stowaways do not often publish their personal impres- 
sions, so, with his permission, I give them here word for 
word. The doctor has taken in hand to improve the 
education of some of the lads of the crew, and I sug- 
gested this subject for one of Brannan’s exercises. He 
first wrote the account with the assistance of an English 
public-school man, who is serving before the mast, 
with the stereotyped result that might be expected ; 


then he wrote the yarn himself, as follows :— 
3rd Sep. 1892. 

As i was walking down the overgate is met one of my chums 
who was going to a football match but he was over late so we 
went round the docks for we heard that the whalers was going to 
sail on Tueasday 6"** so we made up were mind to stowaway 
so we came on the day fixed. First we went to diane but we didn’t 
like her so we went aboard the balenea we went down in foxel to 
stow ourselves away; but we got seperated an as i was looking 


about me i seen a lot of boys younger than myself into a keg 
79 


80 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


of meal, but i didn’t look long for the time was drawing near to 
sail i espied a place where a lot of cans full paint and ile, i well 
get in here, so in i went i wasnt long in when another fellow 
came looking for place then he came where i was he knocked all 
the paint and ile on the top of me so icame out fori was in 
afful mess an then i went to look for another place an then ise 
seen my chum and iasd if he gota place yet he said no but i 
espied another place on the top of a lot of barrells i then tried to 
get in but it was over stiff so 1 got a shovel for a batering ram an 
then we got it open so ini went and then i made room for my 
chum so he got in—an then a lot more made rush for to get in 
but we said their was no more room an then we shut the door 
and then we got steel rod wat they called harpones. but we 
didnt now what they were antil we came out and then the men 
told us we wasnt long in when their was afful uproar which was 
the men coming aboard an then we seen them drinking and 
singing an dancing geting their beds in their bunks an then 
felt the ship moving along but it was not long out of the docks 
when we heard a man roarin out some: of yous come and clear 
the decks up which we learned after that he was the bosun, an 
then about five minutes after that we heard him say some of 
yous get an deck but one of them did not seem to care. but the 
bosun ordered him on deck but he wouldnt go and then their 
was a fight we seen them throwing each other about an then 
we seen the mate an some looking for stowaways they were 
looking among the barrals an then they came to where we was 
then the mate he came to where we were stowed we seen them 
coming through a hole in door the light shone through i thought 
they seen my breeks but they went away then we slept then in 
morning tow of the men who seen us going in gave us a scouse 


(soup) an some ship biscuts then at night time we came out, 


S 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC St 


for tow hours then we went in again then the men tolds us to 
come out then their was a squall then in the afternoon we went 
on deck we met the mate’at the top of the hatch he says to us 
hullo where did you come from but we did not speak he says 
O well we will have to get a job for you then he gave us some 
tar to put on twine and then ball it up. 


This is since we came on board 


William Brannan 
” + 
& 
Terence M*machon.+ 


This ‘ process reproduction,’ from a water-colour, represents one of the old 
hands in the foesle tatooing a boy’s arm, When tatooing became the craze on 
board, the artist had his work cut out for him, Crucifixions and S, F. Union 
badges were the favourite designs. The men believe that the crass ensures them 
burial if they are wrecked and washed up on some Roman Catholic coast. 


1 At Port Stanley Brannan and his chum signed on the articles as members 
of the crew in place of two deserters, and now have made themselves a niche 
in the world’s progress. 


82 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


7th October.—Lat. 29.31; long. 20.35. It was a great 
idea drowning that cat; the result has been a whole 
week of perfect sailing winds. Just enough wind to keep 
us cool, excepting at mid-day, when it becomes a little 
too warm for perfect comfort. Wish we had more cats 
now. 

We had ‘the awning’ up this afternoon—the awning 
that the newspapers wrote so much about kefore we left 
Dundee, which was to shelter our northern sailors from 
the vertical rays of the tropical sun, to create cool draughts 
in the sweltering heat of the Doldrums. The awning was 
a torn sail, the size of a blanket, and all holes and dirty ; 
it was dangled in the middle of the poop, and shaded 
about a couple of square yards of deck ata time. If you 
kept dodging about you could keep in the patch of shadow, 
but it was scarcely worth the trouble. Our sails give us 
all the shelter we require, and our Arctic sailors, instead of 


objecting to the heat, seem to take:to it very kindly. 


Blue—blue—blue, and hot, so hot that it is undiluted 
pleasure to do nothing, and our bare feet burn with the heat 
of the deck, and hold to the melting tar in the seams. 
The men go about their work very quietly, and scarcely 
speak ; the only sound is the click-click of the carpenter’s 
caulking mallet as he hammers oakum into the seams of 
the deck. He comes from Peterhead, but he doesn’t care 
about the heat; he is squatting there on deck, with the 
full blaze of the sun on his flat, brown neck, hammer- 
ing away as contentedly as if there were some 50 degrees 


of frost. 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 83 


It is in the dog watch, when the sun goes down, that we 
waken up, I draw, and the men stroll about the decks and 
play and sing for a while. Then the moon comes up a 
round shield of red gold, and the decks become still. Nor- 
thern moonlight nights are beautiful but cold, and ghostly 
compared with a night like this, when the hot air feels 
thick with the richness of half-hidden colouring. I have 
thought that»no scene could be more beautiful than the 
full moon as it rises at home from behind some dark hill, 
when it pours its pale beams down the rocky glen, touch- 
ing the white birch stems with a fairy light, throwing 
chequered shadows where the roebuck crops the short 
grass. Such a scene, with the gun’s barrel lying cold in 
my hand, has given me more pleasure than ‘the words of 
poets; but it is a cold and colourless picture, in dull 
green and silver, compared to the depth and beauty of 
such a tropical night as this. The darkness seems to 
throb with poetry and’ passion, and the warm damp air 
is soft asa breath of romance from the tales of Arabian 
Nights. The sky is dark, mat blue,—the blue you see in 
a Turkey carpet,—and the stars seem hung out against 
it like silken lanterns,—green, yellow, and ruby red. 

It is so quiet to-night that the ship feels almost deserted. 
The mate stands on the bridge leaning his elbows on the 
white rails, gazing dreamily over the dark sea into the vague 
horizon, motionless, a dusky silhouette with one spot of 
moonlight burning on the glazed peak of his cap. At the 
stern there is another spark of greenish light, where the 
moon glitters on the brass of the binnacle; behind it 


stands the steersman bathed in full light; his soft straw 


84 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


hat gleams white as a ghost-moth’s wing, and his face is 
in deep shadow. He, too, stands almost motionless; for 
the Balaena needs scarcely any steering with this light air. 
... Slowly to and fro the dusty-white sails swing across the 
sky, showing and hiding alternately a glowing star. The 
mainsail, half clewed up, hangs like a grand stage curtain 
in splendid folds, and beneath it the deserted main-deck 
and the galley are lit by the full flood of light which stops 
suddenly at the impenetrable shadow which the fore- 
sail throws across the deck. The men are sitting in the 
shadow, to avoid the baneful light, and I hear them talking 
slowly in subdued voices. . . . Now a boy’s voice rises on 
the night,—exquisitely clear and tuneful. The notes seem 
to rise and linger in the sails and lose themselves in the 
velvet darkness beyond. It is the ‘stowaway’ singing, and 
I go forward to listen, enchanted by the sound. 

... Men and boys sit round him on the deck and on 
the spare spars listening enthralleé. The reflected moon- 
light from the deck touches a bare arm or foot here and 
there, and gleams with a half light on the singer's pale 


face. 


Sunday, oth October—Another day of perfect rest, sun- 
shine, and cool breeze. The old Spanish sailors called 
this eastern ocean the Ladies’ Gulf or Bay, and truly they 
named it well. One could fancy a ladies’ ship on such a 
sunny sea, sailed by a lady crew: parasols and veils would 
look beautiful against the rippling blue waves, and the 
crew might read Tennyson and wear pretty dresses for 


weeks together in such a pleasant summer sea without 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 85 


fear of storm or gale. But the gales do come at times, 
with such a vengeance, and with so little warning, that the 
name bears out the gallant Spaniard’s simile but too well. 

I have heard people say the enforced idleness on 
board ship is unbearable; these people who cannot ap- 
preciate their mercies are much to be pitied. To my 
mind idleness, enforced or otherwise, is infinitely prefer- 
able to enforced labour. One has only too little time to 


have the ‘butter and honey’ of existence. For an artist 


there can be nothing better than many months spent on a 


sailing ship, by reason of the absence of all necessity for 
working. It gives him time to rest and think out his 
artistic creeds. The leisurely progress, the quietness, and 
the endless effects of sea and air ought to lift him into 
that world of thought and fancy that we all forget in the 
noise and hurry of the life at home on shore. If he is 
realistically inclined, there is wealth of subject, and models 


are constantly grouping and posing in endless effects of 


86 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


light and shade. A quid of black tobacco well repays 
your model fora sitting. If an idealist, what life can be 
more suitable? The sea and sky allow of ideal flights. 
There are no engagements to-night or to-morrow, no 
letters to write or to answer, no new books, no news- 
papers, and no duns. ‘To be honest, an artist must be 


frugal ;’ at sea you cannot be otherwise. 


On Monday, a barque made up on us and passed 
us. The few vessels we have fallen in with on our course 
seem to do this with the greatest ease, and we do not 
quite like it. This barque hailed from Bristol, loaded 
with coal. We talked to her very politely for some time 
with our flags, wished her a prosperous voyage, and let her 
go by as if time to us was a matter of no consequence. 
Our heavy wooden sides make us stiff and slow ; but they 
will feel none too thick when we reach the ‘country’ in 


the south where 


{ 
“There’s ice and there’s snow, 
And the stormy winds do blow, 
And the daylight ’s never done, brave boys !’ 


as the whalers sing of the ‘country’ in the far north. 

The accompanying sketch which I find in my journal 
to-day is a modest attempt to represent our worthy doctor 
pursuing science. I have chosen happily, I think, the 
moment of suspended action usually so fraught with ex- 
pression. Another artist with a less delicate taste might 
have represented the doctor in full pursuit; but such a 
rendering, considering the costume, would, I think, have 
lacked dignity. I give this explanation, as the reader of 


artistic, rather than scientific, tastes might take it for a 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 87 


study by Fra Angelico, to whose work, especially in 
the simplicity of the arrangement of the drapery, | 
confess it bears a certain resemblance. 

In the still hours of 
the night watches and the 
grey of the dawn this 
strange figure is seen flit- 
ting around with lamp 
and book, reading temper- 
atures, noting baromet- 
rical readings, and the 
flight of birds. The least 


flicker in Nature’s pulse is 


carefully noted down. I 


made this drawing be- 


cause it gave me satis- 
faction to treat such a 


weighty subject as Science 


in such a free and easy 
way, and reproduce it to prove to all and sundry that on 
one occasion I too was up with the Sun. 

The carpenter finished the new jibboom to-day, and in 
the afternoon both watches turned out and hoisted it 
from the deck forward on to the focsle-head, and out 
into its place on the bowsprit. It was a mighty big lift, 
even for our crew of forty-three men. The spar is full 
thirty feet long, with girth in proportion, so there was 
much yeo-hoing and yeo-ho-heav-oh-ing-altogether-lads, 
before it was fixed in its place. 


The barque is still near us to-night. We played the 


88 MIRON Ia IBVUNIOIREIal INO) ALIGNS, IN AMAIRC AMC. 


pipes, and her red port light seemed to come a little 
nearer, till we could just distinguish a dark mass of hull 
and sails. Then she gradually forged ahead, and the 
light was hidden by her side-screen. It was pleasant to 
have a ship near us for a little while, and the spot of 
warm red light in the night made the darkness feel not 


quite so empty. 


CEA Pay BARS Vir 


UNDAY, 1674,—Lat. 16.18; long. 26.15. We are 
fairly in the trades, running down the North-Easters. 


( 


We fell in with them on Friday, and fondly hope we may 
keep them on our port beam or quarter till we get down 
to twelve degrees north latitude at least. They ought to 
help us down so far, if they abide by the nautical almanac. 

Ships, barques, brigs, barquantines, schooners all pass 
us. I think our slowness is partly due to our rigging 
being so bound down. The shrouds and stays have been 
taughtened so often that there is about as much play in 
them as there is in a railway line. Ail the vessels that 


can signal, interview us. We must puzzle them! Our 
89 


 
go FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


hull is distinctly Norwegian, spars and sails are British, 
and our buff-coloured funnel suggests a man-of-war. 
When the red ensign of the mercantile marine flies out 
at our peak they must be fairly dazed. To add to our 
other peculiarities, the two whale-boats hanging at our 
quarter-deck have their lugsails and jibs set, working 
their passage, as it were. 

We reply to these salutations, ‘Balzna of Dundee, 
bound for the Antarctic,’ and with that, all the informa- 
tion we can give them, they go on their road, and leave 
us plodding behind. 

The doctor and I have arranged our laboratory, studio, 
and living and sleeping quarters under one of the two 
waist-boats, that are turned keel-up on the skids amid- 
ships. The hammocks are swung fore and aft from the 
stems and sterns and within arm’s-length of the thwarts of 
the boats,—these make shelves for our sketch-books, pipes, 
etc. What ideal swinging studios they are ; no matter how 
the ship rolls, they keep so steady that we could draw hair 
strokes with a camel’s hair brush ; and what studio could 
have a better light than the space of blue waves and sky 
that we see between the edge of the hammock and the 
boat above us? When the wind is on our starboard beam, 
and the Balzna lies over to port, our hammocks hang almost 
above the creaming surge that rushes past us. We look 
over and watch the frightened flying-fish springing from 
the blue waves, making but short flights to leeward ; for 
they must go against the wind to fly far. In colouring 
and shape they remind me of our blue dragon-flies : their 


bodies are deep blue with silver sides, and their gossamer 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC gI 


wings shine with the colours of Venetian glass ; some are 
as large as herrings, and others we see taking very short 
flights are the size of minnows. The bonita are after them 
in eager pursuit. How frightened they are! I think that 
it is when they are hard pressed that they take to their 
wings. After the bonita and flying-fish come the dolphins, 
pursuing the pursuers. We have tried to catch these 
bonita frequently, but with little success. We fish for them 
from the jibboom end, dragging a hook with white rag 
dressing ; but they are as coy as carp, and take care not 
to hook themselves. I disinterred my fishing-book from 
the depths of my chest, and tempted them with various 
flies. A Mrs, D 


Namsen, fetched them at once; but they were so strong 


’s invention, a deadly salmon fly on 


that they snapped treble gut like thread. I tried a spoon 
then, and they moved to it but did not hook. I believe 
a blue Tay phantom would have taken them, from its 
resemblance to a flying-fish. The bonita is one of the 
mackerel tribe, but without stripes on its sides, and much 
resembles those we catch on the British coasts, only it is 
larger, deeper, and broader in proportion to its length, and 
tremendously strong. I should think eight Ibs. was about 
the weight of those we saw. I drove my skate-spear into 
one and it was snapped off at the neck. They rush along 
in a zig-zag course under our bows, travelling at a tremend- 
ous rate. Their prismatic colouring is superb, as if they 
had dived through a rainbow and carried away the colours 
on their shoulders. Why does Nature insist on everything 
here becoming brilliantly coloured, in harmony with the 


brilliant sky, sea, and sunlight, and in the grey north 


92 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


insist on quiet schemes, subdued tints, in keeping with the 
grey sky? That she does insist, and that most peremptorily, 
is evident. Here is our crew, three weeks ago there was no 
bright colour amongst them, now they are blossoming out 
in the yery brightest. One man has put on a blazing 
scarlet handkerchief, another wears a faded purple cowl, 
a third wears a scarlet jacket and a sky-blue tie. Even 


their skin Nature has painted with a glowing copper 


Polishing the brass-work, 

colour, They are quite unconscious of the change them- 
selves, I believe. Why this universal insistence on 
harmony of colour, sound, force, and morals; will this 
‘embodied music’ play on for ever, or stop with one 
grand, final chord ? 

Tuesday, 18th Oct.—Six weeks out to-day, and it feels 
as if it were years since we left the Tay, and at times as if 


we had been but a long summer afternoon at sea. The 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 93 


wind is heading us again E.S.E., and z¢ zs hot,—something 
—well, very warm indeed, calculated at the least to raise 
a pleasing thirst; but there is nothing to quench it with. 
We have Rose lime-juice—an A-1 foundation for a tipple— 
and two mixtures we call coffee and tea; but all there is 
to dilute these with is warm rain-water collected off the 
poop. Such water! a spoon will stand up in it, and the 
taste is horrid. It is considered of great value, so great, 
that water colours are out of the question just now, and if 
the doctor abstracts a wine-glassful from the filter for any 
of the crew that require medicine, there is a racket! We 
have a condenser, but the coals are of value. I begin to 
realise what thirst really means, and find myself making 
mental pictures of a brawling burn far away in the north, 
that comes leaping down the hillside over the grey stones. 
What would I not give just for one plunge in that black 
pool, where the big golden trout lies; for one deep drink 
of its sparkling water, flavoured with the dew that drops 
in the cocl cave of Ranald of the Still? Here the sea- 
water is so warm that all pleasure has gone from our 
tubbing—that, of course, is the only way we can bathe. 
There is no fun going over the side with a hoary old 


shark lying under the keel. 


19th Oct.—Lat. 9.36; long. 26.13. These wretched 
bonita have been aggravating us again. For a whole 
forenoon we lay out on the jibboom and tried to 
make them take, offered them flies from Namsen, Tay, 
Shannon, and Matapedia, but they wouldn’t look at them. 


They are more capricious than salmon! One day they 


94 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


fight for the fly, and the next won’t look at it, though it 


is dangled right in front of them. 


20th Oct.—Lat. 8.47 ; long. 26.29. We have had thirteen 
heavy squalls since yesterday at noon. Our running 
rigging must be nearly worn through with shortening 
sail. The trade-winds were long in coming, and they 
stopped far too accurately to please us; just as we 
reached their southern limit for this time of the year they 
left us, giving us enough way to cross the line marked 
Doldrums. We have lain for twenty-four hours wallowing 
in the hot windless sea, stewing under the grey clouds as 
if in an oven. Rain-clouds with heavy purple skirts 
sweep slowly round the horizon; sometimes they pass 
over us and fill our sails with a short-lived squall, and 
leave us with streaming scuppers and steaming decks. 

How we pity these poor sailing ships here without any 
means of moving! They lie for weeks and weeks in these 
hot calms, the decks roasting hot, tar oozing from the 
seams, hauling their yards round and shifting tacks for 
the faintest air. I have known a barque lie for six weeks 
on a spot of calm a little to the south of where we are now, 
whilst more fortunate vessels went past daily and nightly. 
No wonder sailors believe in phantom ships and the like. 

About 9 P.M. we gave up waiting for more trade-winds, 
lit the fires, hauled in all sails but the fore-and-afters, 
hoisted a white light on the fore-top, and now we are 
plodding along steamship-wise, at the magnificent speed 
of five knots an hour, As the doctor and I have returned 


to our bunks by reason of these late squalls, and the bunks 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 95 


are right on the top of the engine-room, we feel that the 
heat is greater than any we are likely to experience here, 
or hereafter. The two engineers are simply cooked alive, 
and gasp and drink tepid water in bucketfuls. 

To-day Petrie the bo’sun was seen stropping a gigantic 
razor, presumably Neptune’s, so half the crew are in a great 
flutter, hairy old Arctic veterans who have never sailed to 
the South Seas, and downy boys on their first long voyage, 
are equally anxious. We aft have grown what now may 
fairly be called beards; but off they must come, so Nep- 
tune says. Bribed he will not be, for where is the grog to 
bribe him with? We discuss the question of asking the 
skipper for a couple of bottles of his rum for his Majesty 
and crew, but decide on the whole it was wiser not to. 

At breakfast to-day the subject of sailors’ superstitions 
was brought on to the tapis, and I expected to hear much 
of interest ; but 
the only result 
was a yarn from 
one of our party 
on the compar- 
atively modern 
Calvinistic form 
of fire-worship 
and the fire 


demon. So I 


put the direct 
question to one of our engineers, Did he believe in second 
sight? ‘Oh, ay, I div that,’ he said, ‘and in mair than 


second-sicht forbye, There was ma mither’s grandmither, 


95 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


noo, wha bided up the Carse o’ Gowrie yonder, in ma 
faither’s auld farm-hoose, ye ken,—man, I mind it weel. 
Her sicht was somethin’ wonerfu’, nae specs, ye ken, 
night or day was a’ ane to her. I hae seen her sitting i’ 
the ingle-neuk reading awa’ at her Bible, an’ it mirk enow 
for a moose no’ to hae kent the gait til its ane mou. 
But as I was saying, what was mair extraordinar than 
her second-sicht was, twa year afore she dewd, and that 
wasna mickle short o’ a hunert, she had the maist wonerfw’ 
third set o’ teeth, ’maist guid as her first anes. Ou ay, 
I can weel believe in second sicht.’ I was evidently on 
the wrong track for superstitions. 

I now have to put before you, ladies and gentlemen, a 
pen drawing by an unknown artist of a very interesting 
subject. It is executed by that prolific artist in his very 
best pre-Raphaelite manner. In the centre of this com- 
position the spectator will observe a cask. Notice ez 
passant the delicacy of execution, the grace of line and 
the masterly knowledge of his subject which the artist 
displays in his conscientious rendering of this unpre- 
tentious flour-barrel. To the right of the spectator there 
stands a figure remarkable alike for grandeur of pose 
and nobility of expression, it represents the celebrated 
character on the Balzena, namely, Jock Harvey. Harvey 
put the cooper in the tub and everybody laughed but 
the cooper. When the cooper came out with his moist 
face and black, stubbly chin, covered with flour, with 
flour in his eyes and all over him, spluttering and cuss- 
ing, he made about the funniest figure I ever set eyes 


on. How we laughed! for weeks after the whole 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 97 


ship’s company chuckled when the cooper and the flour 
cask was mentioned. The crew particularly requested 
me to make a drawing of this subject, and I have 
done so,! 

I spent the afternoon of this somewhat eventful day 
listening to the three mighty men of the Balzna, Jock 
Harvey, Mason, and Marshall, the men Mr. Leigh Smith 
had with him on the Eira, They are a wonderful trio 


when they get together, and tell of their experiences. 
Harvey perhaps starts a story, then Mason joins in, and 
Marshall winds it up. Their yarns about the winter in 
Franz-Joseph Land and their voyage of forty days in the 
open boats always fetches their audience; but they vary 
these adventures with a run down south, with tales of 


China, Calcutta, and Frisco that would make some people’s 


1T regret extremely that this drawing has been destroyed by salt water. 
Alas that the engraver should be cheated of his prey by a green sea! 


G 


98 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


hair curl. They have given me the exact bearings of a 
cache they made before leaving Franz-Joseph Land in the 
boats. There is a musical box that plays eight tunes 
lying there now, under the snow, two Remingtons, a 
splendid camera, and a bottle of champagne. We can do 
without the musical box or the camera, but that champagne, 
cooled a long age in the deep delved snow, how we should 
enjoy it just now! They told another tale, mther grisly, 
perhaps, and we must hope slightly exaggerated. The 
festive three were roaming on the shores of Spitzbergen 
when they happened on a settlement of dead Danes, each 
settler lay in his long and narrow house on the top of the 
frozen ground, and each had a bottle of rum by his jowl 
to give him heart at the sound of the last trump, This is 
the manner of the Danes, I am told, or perhaps of the 
Lapps, I forget which—at any rate, Lapps or Danes, the 
rum was rum and strong at that, and it was long hours 
afterwards when my three friends epened their eyes and 


found themselves still in the land of the dead. Can’t you 


picture these Danes when they awaken ?—Great Scott !— 


won't they be angry? 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 99 


... A letter was handed on board to-night addressed 
to the cabin. It was delivered by a special messenger 
from his Royal Highness Neptune, King of the Seas, and 
was very friendly and nice, and the spelling was a treat. 
Neptune proposes to pay us a visit shortly; he under- 
stands we have some young men on board who have 
not crossed the line yet, these he would like to deal with 
as is customary in these parts. 

This has been a long, hot day of trifling events, and the 
sun has gone down quite ashamed of its dilatoriness. 
Such a flush of hectic colour there was! It would have 
staggered a bad scene-painter. An exquisite crescent 
moon followed, and in consequence there was much turning 
of luck-pennies. Poor moon! she came very close to her 
lover—chased him right down to the horizon ; but she must 
have felt quite ashamed of his angry display of crude red 
and saffron and chrome yellow as he went down. Objects 
seen in this golden evening light are very beautiful, but 
the sky effects are monotonous and crude to my mind; 
besides, the sun drops behind the horizon with such an 
undignified plump. Far more beautiful are the evenings 
at home, when he sinks grandly and slowly behind 
the purple islands of the west—a lingering, graceful 
obeisance,—trailing his golden hair through the cool 


weft of the northern lights. 


CAPT ER. 1 


UNDAY, 237d Oct.—Lat. 3.56; long. 25.15. Steam- 

ing, almost calm—blue sea and fleecy ciouds. The 

waves seem to rest and snore drowsily, as we rise and fall 
on their breasts. 

Hammocks—cigars—Nature—lent Sir James Ross’s 
Antarctic Voyage to Allan, Spectioneer. The boys are 
devouring it. The night is hot and breathless—so hot my 
candle is soft and droops on one side, and I try to support 
it with matches ; but it will not stand up, so drawing must 
be stopped. Of all weakly 
things a melting candle looks 


the weaktest. 


Monday, 24th Oct—Lat. 
reper. Ikons, a er, Bhan 
dramatic group for the galley 
of the cook and Bonnar 
sparring on the main hatch. 
Peter is tall, thin, and Scotch, 


and Bonnar is short, fat, 


and Irish, and both are wags in their own way. The 
drawing was quite a success in our small autocracy. I 
ought to have brought a lithographic stone to supply the 


demand for reproductions of this style of work. 
100 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC IO 


Tuesday, 25th Oct.—On the line ; long. 27.4. 

We crossed the line to-day. Somebody saw it under 
the bow this morning, a long, thin, glittering silver wire 
away deep down in the blue sea, and now the fledglings 
are crowing at the prospect of shaving Arctic veterans. 
The old men object ; one does, at least—a hardy Peter- 
head.man, of perhaps thirty Arctic summers ; but he must 
submit. ° 

At twelve o’clock Neptune climbed over our bows 
and stood on the focsle-head, just as if he had come up 
from the bottom of the sea. He was followed by her 
Majesty ; as she had a delicate tendency to embonpoint, 
and was incommoded by her petticoats, it took some 
hauling on the part of her husband and shoving from 
the royal officials below to bring her on deck. After her 
came the officials themselves, the whole party having been 
sitting out of sight on the martingale-stays waiting for 
this auspicious moment. 

I must try to describe the ceremony and the costumes 
of the actors. Never before has there been such a 
complete recognition of Neptune’s rights, for we attended 
to both the observances of crossing the Line and the Arctic 
Circle. His Majesty and her Royal Highness wore their 
full robes of state, and their magnificence was only 
excelled by the royal dignity of their carriage. His 
Majesty (Charles Campbell, A.B., The Cockney) was clad 
in belt and tunic of dull brown, with a scarlet pattern on 
it; on his lower extremities he wore hose of the same 
colour, and the costume might with safety be described as 
that of the early part of the thirteenth century. But the 


102 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


most effective part of the get-up was the head-gear. The 
wig was made of light-coloured rope strands, and hung 
all over his shoulders and round his copper-coloured face, 
like the stiff ringlets of a sculptured Assyrian king. His 
crown was made of new tin, and glittered splendidly in 


the blazing sunlight, and his trident was of the same 


xt 


Nee saa i 
Ng ; ae gina FS) 


precious metal. Mrs. Neptune was also a very imposing 
figure, and with a slight alteration of dress would have 
done well in the part of Mrs.Gamp. Her towsy locks 
escaped from beneath a tin crown in beautiful confusion, 
a scarlet handkerchief with white spots fell over her 
ample bosom, and with the ends of this handkerchief she 
modestly tried to conceal a stubbly chin and ferocious 
moustache. The hand thus coyly displayed was not 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 103 


of the form that we associate with perfect womanly 
beauty; the largeness and strength that is too often 
absent was there, but the colour was much too strong, 
and even vied with the blush on her Majesty’s nose. 
‘Dee-dong, or Mr. William Watson of The Hayne, 
took this very important part, and acted it with wonderful 
grace and modesty, considering her Majesty’s figure, and 
the shortness of her skirts, which barely covered her 
brawny knees. 

After Neptune came his clerk (Fraser from the Shet- 
lands): costume—bowler, blue snow-goggles, black 
morning-coat curtailed into an Eton jacket, broad white 
collar, white flannel knickerbockers, black stockings, and 
buckled shoes. Under his arm he carried a black portfolio, 
and in his hand a gigantic quill pen. Such a rig would 
have brought down the gallery of any house in the United 
Kingdom. Then there came the barber (Petrie the bo’sun). 
He also was most effectively rigged: he wore a broad- 
brimmed straw hat, flowing crimped tow wig, white shirt 
and trousers, and a barber’s apron; in his hand he carried 
the razor; his arms and feet were bare, and brown as a 
Kaffir’s. Harry Kiddy was doctor and barber’s assistant. 
He carried the pill-box, a bucket full of soft soap and 
water, and a white-wash brush for the lather. After these 
came the bobbies and the bears, all splendidly got up, 
and several other characters whose names I do not 
remember. 

When they were all arranged in the focsle in the 
order of their going, they started in procession round the 


deck, headed by the cook, who endeavoured to play a 


104 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


march on my bagpipes. When the procession reached the 
stern, the steersman was interviewed, and his Majesty 
took a squint at the sun through a dummy sextant, and 
took down the ship’s name and destination, and in various 
ways showed his gracious interest in the good ship Balaena. 
At the same time, his courtiers kept their weather eyes 
lifting for the grog that might have been expected on 
such an occasion, but was not forthcoming. , They then 


proceeded round the starboard side of the poop, down the 


poop-steps, and along the main-deck to the staging that had 


been rigged over the main hatch, This was aft the galley 
and a little lower, so that the galley roof could be used 
asathrone. On this Neptune seated himself, underneath 
a barber's pole and brass shaving-plate, with her Majesty 
on his left hand, her hands placidly folded across her 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 105 


ample waist, and her mahogany-coloured legs dangling 
beneath the red and white checked blanket that did duty 
for petticoat. The officials sat on either side, the clerk 
on the corner of the galley, overhauling the names of the 
crew in his ledger, and the barber and doctor stood in 
front. Behind the figures, the arc of soft blue sea showing 
under the foot of the foresail made a perfect background, 
and the blaze of sunlight made the colouring of the tableau 
most beautifully gorgeous. 

All the preparations being completed, the police officers, 
dressed in long black coats with medals and white straw 
hats and bare feet, come round the ship to summon all 
those in the clerk’s list to the Royal presence. 

When some of these unfortunates are captured they 
are brought to the steps at the starboard side of the 
staging, where they are blindfolded, and led up the 
steps before his Majesty, pretending not to be the least 
afraid, but all the same, not quite sure how to conduct 
themselves in the novel and trying circumstances. Then 
supposing it is a youth who comes up, Neptune addresses 
some kindly words to him so as to gain his confidence. 
‘Wot is the name of this fine young lad?’ asks his 
Majesty, in tones expressing kindly interest, and the 
clerk reads out from his list——‘Kant—from the Ferry, 
age 18, 

‘Hall the way from the ferry?’ drawls the king ; ‘woi, 
that’s a wery long voyage for such a young man, ’Ow 
’ave you henjoyed it so far?—Oh yer needn’t be afraid to 
speak, mi boy.—’Ow did yer leave ’em hall at ’ome, the 


old people,—was they well and ’appy w’en you left?’ Still 


106 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


no answer. ‘Well, Mr. Clerk, this boy ’ere don’t seem 
ter care about speakin’ wery much. ’Ave yer not been 
‘avin ernough to eat, mi boy, on this ’ere ship?’ At this 
the wretch opens his mouth to reply, and the doctor, who 
has been waiting his chance, jambs the pills between the 
victim’s teeth, and the spectators shout with laughter, 
those laughing most heartily who still have the taste of 
the pills in their mouths. ‘ 

Next comes a consultation about the patient’s state of 
health, and the doctor recommends shaving ; his Majesty 
gives his consent, and the novice is seated on a camp- 
stool at the edge of the platform. Behind him a square 
sail is stretched, between the stage and the bulwarks ; this 
has been filled with water, so as to form a large bath. 
At its corners, on the bulwarks, the bears are seated. 
These are boys dressed in Esquimaux seal-skins ; they 
are characters taken from the Arctic play, and add 
greatly to the general effect. 6 

The doctor, as barber’s assistant, plunges his great brush 
in the soap-and-water bucket, and smothers the poor fellow’s 
head with suds; and the barber sticks a sheet of paper on 
the boy’s chest and scrapes all over his head with the 
wooden razor. This operation is hurried over, for there 
are a lot of other novitiates waiting their turn. The 
shaving done, the doctor quickly tips up the stool with a 
capstan bar, and, without warning, the victim is tumbled 
head over heels into the bath. If he does not fall in 
quite to the bears’ satisfaction, they jump on the top of 


1 Esquimaux seal-skin dresses brought by some of our crew for use in the 
ice. 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 107 


him and souse him well till he manages to pull the 
bandage off his eyes and struggles out gasping, with 
soft soap in his mouth, eyes, and ears. 

The old Peterhead whaler came before the judgment- 
seat like the rest. A few days ago, he ‘was damned gin he 
wad stand ony nonsense frae a pack o’ bletherin laddies.’ 
But he kept precious quiet this day, and was lathered and 
ducked as tlforoughly as the others. Then came Geordie, 
our second mate, a great, good-natured, fair-haired Her- 
cules, well liked by the crew. Great was the uproar when 
he stood blindfolded on the stage. And last of all came 
the ship’s doctor, who had thought to escape by reason of 
the general belief that he has been round and round the 
the world—a belief arising from the depth of his tan and 
his magnificent black beard, and general appearance of 
having just crossed Africa. Some one who knew told the 
authorities that he was more at home in Piccadilly than in 
the tropics, and he was straightway seized, soaped, shaved, 
and tubbed, amidst the greatest merriment. Coming 
towards the end of the function, he fared badly in regard 
to the tubbing, for the water in the bath after thirty 
bathers was anything but fresh. 

All hands being initiated into the rights and privileges 
of the subjects of King Neptune, the ceremony was over. 
No one saw the fun of stopping for this reason, so to keep 
things going poor Bonnar was seized on and sacrificed to 
make a sailor’s holiday. Poor Bonnar was chosen because 
he was so fat and good-natured and Irish. He had been 
doing duty as policeman; it did seem hard lines. He 
made a hopeless struggle, and then resigned himself, 


108 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


and was soaped and shaved, bald head and all, and 
plunged into the sail in his uniform. Then wild riots 
began: one po- 
liceman shoved 
another into the 
bath, and Nep- 
tune’s doctor 
followed. The 
bears were in the 


poolalready,and 


if her Majesty 
had not cut and 


run, she would 


have been upset 
too. All day 


long the play 


went on, till at 


Bonnar, A,B. and harpooneer. 


night we were 
so tired with the heat and the fun and the laughing that 


we could scarcely move. 


friday, 28th.—S. Lat. 4.42; long. 30.34. Called Banyan 
Day in polite sea circles; amongst the men, Starvation 
Day, because of the dinner of scouse and rice. Scouse 
is Tommy Atkins’ skilly. 

It is hot, dark, and quiet on deck to-night; the only 
sound is the swishing of warm sea across our waist— 
a drowsy, soothing sound. ... We have passed a big 
ship; she was just rather too close. She loomed 


up suddenly to windward out of the blackness, in the 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 109 


time you draw a breath, and went surging past, a tower 
of ghostly grey canvas. There was not much time for 
talk between the two ships, just an angry shout or two: 
‘Where the hell are you driving to?’—and ‘What the 
blankety blank do you want to know for?’ toning down 
into sea-chaff as we passed each other: ‘ Ahoy there, d’ye 
stop out all night in that ’ere hooker ?’ ‘Guess no, mister ; 


ties her up %o a bloomin’ tree. Where the wow-wow- 


wow ’and the voice was stopped off in the darkness. 


‘Ships that pass in the night 
and speak each other in passing, 
Only a signal shown and a distant 
voice in the darkness ; 
So on the ocean of life we pass and 
speak one another : 
Only a look and a voice, then darkness 
again, and a silence.’ 
So Longfellow describes a similar incident. Which of 


the two is the least ‘ brutal assault on the feelings’? 


Wednesday, 2nd Nov.—Lat. 12.42; long. 33.12. This 
morning a shoal of about fifty dolphins came racing up 
from leeward, and kept us company. They appeared to 
be travelling. They dashed in front of our bows for half 
an hour or so, leaping high out of the water and zig-zagging 
under it close to our sides; possibly they were in pursuit 
of flying fish. Then off they went to the S.E. before we 
had time to get out the harpoon. Evidently our pace 
was too leisurely for them ; and no wonder. Here we are 
with this perfect sailing weather, a beautiful S.E. trade- 
wind, and a small sea, and we only make 54 knots; one 


110 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


could almost walk as fast. An ordinary merchantman, 
barnacles and all, would reel off 15 knots with this breeze. 

The only craft that we can pass are the Portuguese 
men-of-war, and in a calm they can beat us! They are 
amongst the many things of beauty we see every day. 
This morning we passed through quite a fleet of them. 
On the water they are like a claret-glass floating without 
a stem, or a child’s broken balloon. They are of all 
colours—faint green, opal, and iridescent tints. 

Perhaps this life at sea is good in some ways, but 
undoubtedly it is monotonous. It makes us realise our 
just relationship to space and general unimportance in 
the scheme of creation. Having partially realised this, 
we become tired of its insistence, of the feeling of little- 
ness and shut-in-ness, and long to look over the edge of 
the horizon that seems to stand round us, and shut us in 
like a grey dyke. 

If we go to the mast-head we have a slight change of 
view ; the wall seems higher, and the hole we are in deeper, 
and the prospect of getting out of it seems less, The 
fact is, we are getting just a little tired of sea life, a little 
home-sick, and a little wearied with this endless fine 
weather; but what a rash thing to say! Bruce has taken 
to Scott, which is a sign that the times are leisurely, not 
necessarily slow; and I listen to the songs of Ossian, and 
the past and the present and the future seem all to be 
one. 

This drawing represents George (second mate) weighing 
out stores under the break of the poop. It is a most 
important event, and happens once a month. The men 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC ILt 


come aft with biscuit tins and handkerchiefs to hold their 
tea and sugar, etc. Most of them take two whacks or 
shares and sometimes three: the number of whacks 
depends ‘on whether they mess with one or two chums. 


i 
ce | 


I see I have made George about a foot higher than 
any of the crew; this is one of those accidents that so 
often happen with us draughtsmen, ‘accidental effects’ 
we call them and pass on. 


Sunday, 6th Nov.—Lat. 21.39; long. 34.29. There 


2 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


were three events of importance in this day’s sailing, 
breakfast, dinner, and tea. As we sail south the air 
becomes more invigorating, and these events become 
daily of greater importance. 

To-morrow we will be out of that interesting belt of 
sea marked Tropics on the map. This afternoon the 
wind went round from the S.E. to the N., so the men had 
of necessity to work, to the extent of squaritig the yards 
and clewing up the mainsail, otherwise they have spent 
the day in peaceful repose. Alas, that I may not say 
innocent repose, for a great army of porpoises or small 
whales (pigmy sperm, perhaps) made up on us, and our 
minds, instead of being filled with angelic visions, were 
stuffed with material pictures of porpoise steak. Full 
forty steady church-goers (at home) lined the focsle 
head, and aided and abetted a bold harpooneer in his 
evil designs. 

At last, one of the whales camé in reach, and down 
went the harpoon, and up went a shout from the ungodly, 
for the harpoon was clean through and out on the other 
side. Then we all hauled away at the line, and felt the 
weight of the fresh meat at the other end, and felt the 
harpoon draw, and saw the dead whale drift astern. Now 
on this occasion the language was profane. 

At the risk of being tedious I will here give a careful 
account of the way in which we put in a day at sea. By 
we, I mean the doctor and myself, and by day I only mean 
the hours of daylight, for of the night hours I can say 
little. But the men tell me that the doctor is often seen 


then in his pyjamas pursuing science. 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 113 


About 6 A.M. it dawns on us that Nick is patiently 
asking us whether we desire fresh or salt water. If we 
decide to have fresh, a tumblerful is put into a tin basin 
on the top of a bucket on deck. This kind of fresh water 
is of great value, as it has been collected off the deck with 
much pains, and contains many matters not usually found 
in plain water; although of a greenish-yellow colour 
and an unpleasant smell, it can dissolve soap. Salt water 
does not do so, so our choice lies between a little cleaning 
and a strong smell, or buckets of salt water and an all- 
over feeling of stickiness for the rest of the day. We 
did not mind the stickiness much till Bruce brought 
his microscope to bear on the salt water, when we 
found each sparkling drop contained a community 
of exquisitely constructed, rainbow-coloured creatures. 
Then it did seem a pity to use a rough towel, when each 
rub meant death to millions of these presumably happy 
crustaceans, ? 

Having given these, or any other matters that may 
occur to us, due deliberation, we arise and either dabble 
in the tin dish of rain-water or luxuriate in bucketsful of 
salt and animalculez. This over, ‘the Finisher’! begins his 
rounds, With thoughtful brow he picks his way along 
the deck over coils of rope, avoiding bolt-rings, and keep- 
ing as nearly a straight line with the earth’s centre as 
possible. He is bare-footed, of course—nobody wears 
shoes in these latitudes—and in one hand he bears a 
thermometer, and holds in the other a bucket devoted to 


1 Whalers’ term for doctor, from Dutch—physician, pronounced finisher. 
H 


114 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


science, One of his patients then drops the bucket, mouth 
down, into the foaming sea at our fore-foot and hauls it 
up; the density and temperature are recorded with the 
utmost exactness, and copious notes are taken of sky, air, 
and water, and by breakfast-time there is little to be 
known that we have not written down in the meteoro- 
logical log. In the meantime I have been wisely pre- 
paring an appetite by assisting at the alreadyovermanned 
pumps. At 8 Nick comes round the deck and murmurs 
something about breakfast being on the table. Breakfast 
does not stay there long—the porridge disappears in a 
twinkling. We have porridge—what is breakfast without 
it? Unfortunately we have neither cream nor milk, but 
we have molasses instead, and feel fairly contented there- 
with. Then coffee—and such coffee !—not freshly ground, 
with a rank, fresh taste, but ground ages ago, with all the 
tastes contracted in its many journeyings, infused in water 
of many flavours. We drink this with our eyes shut 
when oppressed with thirst. Then we trifle with ship- 
biscuits and margerine, but the chef @’wuvre is curried tin 
a la maitre Ahotel, and when we have not this we have the 
stand by salt horse. 

After breakfast we gather our stock in trade together 
and seek some sequestered nook on the poop, where the 
sun shines and there’s no fresh paint or men at work to 
disturb our thoughts—I nearly wrote down slumbers— 
and then start our day’s work. Bruce attends patients 
and the calls of science, and the artist paints many things 
that pertain to life at sea. 

At seven bells there is another spell of ten minutes at 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 115 


the pumps to keep the ship afloat, then the sun is shot, 
and Nicholas makes his appearance for the second time 
and announces dinner, 

The dinners are all the same; that is to say, Monday’s 
dinners are all alike, and what we have to-day, D.V., we 
shall have this day six months hence. There is something 
almost grand in this, suggestive of the recurrence of the 
seasons. Jack’s forefather this day a hundred years ago 
had the same szenu and made the same uncomplimentary 
remarks about the dishes, and a hundred years hence on 
this day Jack’s children will growl over their salt horse 
and plumless duff, unless Wilson brings in his new scale 
of provisions by that time. Possibly they will growl even 
then. 

It is told that once upon a time there lived a skipper 
whose wife said to him that if she went to sea the 
poor men would never find fault with their food, so her 
husband took her with him on a voyage. Now this good 
woman attended to the cooking in the galley herself, and 
the scouse was thick with fresh vegetables, the bread was 
white and without weevils, the meat was good, and the 
duff was almost half plums; but still the men growled. 
Then the skipper’s wife thought of the hens that she had 
brought to lay eggs for her husband, and she took them 
and drew their necks with her own fair hands and plucked 
them and roasted them and sent them forward to the 
focsle on the cabin china. At last she thought the 
men will know how much we think of their comfort. 
At eight bells she stole forward to the fore-scuttle to 
listen to the praise of her skill, and, as she listened, 


116 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


she looked down the hatch, and saw a big, black fist 
plunge a fork in the hen, and heard a hoarse voice 
growl, ‘/ say, Bill, what dye think this ere bl—y fowl 
ated of?’ 

We do not use such expressions in the cabin, for it is 
not right to speak in such a way either on the quarter- 
deck or aft the mainmast; nor yet do we waste any 
time at dinner in subtle disputations. If a‘ man has a 
fact to state he planks it down, and it is accepted, or 
contradicted, or let be. If he has a yarn to tell, we 
have it, and the next man tops it if he can. Philo- , 
sophy, science, and art you may discuss in a crofter’s 
cottage, but they are too fragile beauties for the life on a 
Dundee whaler ; and it is difficult to dilate on the relation 
of protoplasm to cellule, or expatiate on the subtleties of 
Monticelli, when every moment you expect the soup 
kettle to take charge of the cabin. 

After the fleeting pleasures of plum-duff and scouse we 
retire to our hammocks to smoke the pipe of peace or the 
cheroot of contentment. 

I would here take this opportunity of giving to the 
world my still unpatented cure for all nervous diseases ; 
it is simplicity itself, and as assistant surgeon to the 
Balzena, at one shilling per month, I will guarantee its 
efficacy :— 

Advertisement.—After meals retire to your hammock. 
The hammock must be hung on board a sailing ship some- 
where near the line (no use on a steamer), and must be 
in some quiet, shady place on deck, under the boats or 


an awning, with a view of passing clouds and dancing 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 117 


sunlit waves. Take with you a pipe and a book—it is 
immaterial whether there is anything in either of them, 
I merely suggest them for those unrestful mortals who 
can’t do nothing without pretending to do something. 
Spend twelve hours out of the twenty-four in this retire- 
ment, two hours after meals, and eight after bedtime, 
neither reading, thinking, nor smoking too hard. If after 
you have attended to these instructions for the space of 
two calendar months you still feel no better, I would 
advise you to give up your case, 

As assistant-surgeon I have spoken, as a friend I 
warn you—sling your hammock high enough to be out 
of the way of passers-by, for of all things in the world 
it is the most annoying when you are half awake, only 
dimly conscious of the warm wind whispering, soft 
on your cheek as a lover’s sigh, when your thoughts 
are in time to the short frou-frou of the silky-blue 
waves, to receive a»sudden violent shock from some- 
body’s head passing below; it is so annoying, too, when 
you look over your hammock edge to see some fellow 
going away, with his hand on the back of his neck, 
cussing—as if he had hurt himself as much as he had 
hurt you. No one ever seems to think that a ham- 
mock is full till they have bumped their head against 
it. 

About three o’clock we have afternoon tea, Indian, 
of course Chargola, infused fifty-nine seconds, in Nankin 
china, with clotted cream. This we have in imagina- 
tion. As plain matter of fact, we put some of the 
foliage of the birch tree, that does duty as Chargola, 


118 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


into a china mug, and get Peter to give us some boiling 
water in the galley, then we stew the mixture on 
the galley stove, skim it, and drink it without any 
lingering ; Peter meanwhile entertains us with quick 
steps on the tin whistle, or tells us tales of the Arctic. 
He has been wrecked up there several times, and 
gives us grisly adventures and bars of strathspeys alter- 
nately. ‘ 

At 5 P.M. comes the regular sit-down tea—a square 
meal of salt beef and birch infusion, margarine, and that 
godsend, Keiller’s marmalade. Sometimes Peter makes 
us soft tack, ze white bread, and on rare occasions 
scones, these most skilfully made. 

After tea, Bruce and I go up into a high place (one of 
the quarter-boats) and there read Darwin’s Voyage, or 
H.R. Mill’s Reali of Nature, and ‘the seas that mourn in 
flowing purple for their lord forlorn’ seem to rise and fall 
in tune with one grand purpose,:and we read Arthur 
Thomson’s Anzmal Life, that poetry book with the dry 
name, and we feel as we read that we need no other than 
these two books, for they put our hands in the palm of 
Nature, and the long voyage loses its monotony, the 
ocean veil lifts, and we grope for beautiful shells in 
its silent depths; above and below new worlds open to 
our eyes, and each wave, as it bursts against our bow 
a shower of gold in the evening light, or surges past, 
darkly, in the shadow of the bulwarks, seems to pulsate 
with infinite, lovely life. 

As the darkness falls we get down on deck and perhaps 


chat with the watch. What an interesting library these 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC T19 


warm-hearted sailors make! Old-fashioned books—with 
ragged bindings, perhaps, but full of the most inter- 
esting, wide-world stories. Then I light my pipe and 
turn into my bunk, whilst Bruce by candle-light adds 
the little store that he has gathered in the day from 


the Infinite, tothe Finite of science. 


Peter White, ‘ The Cook of our gallant Ship.’ 


GH ALP EE RY 2S 


ONDAY, 722 Nov.—Lat. 23.45; long. 36.7. Out 
of the tropics. As I turned in last night, there 
was an ominous humming in the rigging, which, taken 
with the flight of a great army of small whales to the 
south, led us to expect a change of weather. And 
sure enough, we have it this morning, a glorious gale 
from the north bowling us along straight for Rio. 
Grey-backs are rushing alongside us, with glass-green 
hollows and tossing manes, each burst of spray is 
woven with a shred of rainbow colour caught from 
the sun that we are now leaving behind us in the 
north. re 
In the night we made two and four knots, this morning 
five-and-a-half, and now, at mid-day, we are waddling 
along as gaily as a duck in a thunder-storm, the wind 
right aft, reeling off eight knots an hour, a terrific speed 
for us. The merchant clippers one hears talked of would 


be doing their fifteen to twenty knots quite easily ! 


Tuesday, 8th Nov.—The blue sea of the tropics is 
changing to a greyer colour, the sun shines through a 
windy haze, and there is a bracing feeling in the air that 


we have almost forgotten in the luxurious heat of the 


line. 
120 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 121 


It is cheerful on a bright, exhilarating day like this, 
with the racing waves seeming to burst with pleasure, and 
the air tingling with life, to think of the happy hunting 
grounds to come. We feel confident on such a day that a 
dive and a short smother beneath the green sea would 
be well repaid by the bright awakening in our next place 
in Nature’s procession, perhaps in a land where men can 
live as man should, and no chapmen enter. But it would 
have been an awful thing to go out into the unknown, cold 
and shivering, ona night such as last night! It was black 
as sin, lit into an eerie daylight with hideous quivering 
wild-fire, with wind enough to blow one’s teeth out. In 
the early part of the evening the breeze had fallen away, 
and as it grew dark, we had light rain-showers and puffs 
of warm damp air, and the barometer fell half an inch. 

We had lit the cabin lamp and were sitting down to a 
calm evening of work, Bruce at science and the artist 
illustrating Ossian, when a tropical storm burst on us. 
First a deluge of rain came pouring down, sounding on the 
deck like the rush of many feet. Then came the wind 
with a blow that nearly turned us turtle; down we went 
on our beam-ends, more and more over till you could 
walk on the sides of the cabin. For a few seconds there 
was nothing but the sound of the blast and the hissing of 
the sea. Then came orders for shortening sail, bellowed 
along the deck from aft, the men in the darkness shouting 
them over again as they passed them forward. The 
yeo-hoing and yeo-hi-hoing in all keys increasing as both 
watches caught on to the ropes—a continuous, blood- 


curdling discord—halyards clack, clacking against the 


122 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


masts, an angry, impatient sound, and the clewed-up 
sails away above us in the darkness, sopped with rain 
and hard as wood, banging monotonously, angrily, 
threatening to burst unless made fast immediately— 
thump, thump, thump, what a pandemonium of noise and 
blackness and quivering lightning! At each flash the 
black straining shrouds cut sharp against the livid clouds, 
and the men’s wet faces looked ghastly in thé cool, electric 
light. Then came a crash and a questioning silence, and 
the shouting of the men hauling on the main topsail reefing 
halyards stopped suddenly, and some one started up the 
weather shrouds to see or feel what was wrong. Jock 
Harvey’s voice came down from aloft shouting against 
the wind, ‘topsail sheet carried away!’ Then the main 
topsail burst with a grand report, and the main topgallant 
stopped thumping, blown clean out of the bolt ropes. 
Lights were brought aft, and by the time some of the sails 
were stowed and the sheet made fast, we were lifting 
along with a light breeze. It was a powerful picture 
while it lasted. The darkness and lightning, the wind and 
hissing sea, with the jolly reckless shouting of the men, 
made it intensely dramatic. But to have nothing to do 
on such an occasion but sit tight in a stuffy little 
cabin, with a smoking lamp, chewing your pipe stem, is 


trying to say the least. 


Wednesday, 9th November—Lat. 25.7; long. 37.10. 
This morning there is a crispness in the air that we have 
not felt since we left the North Temperate zone, a dry, 
crackling heat that makes us feel brimful of superfluous 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 123 


energy and fit for more active employment than feeding 
petrels from the taffrail. 

We were anxious to catch some of these birds to 
examine them closely. So I took a fine Tweed cast and 
baited the flies with small pieces of pork skin and trolled 
with it. The oily spots the fat made on the water created 
great excitement amongst our little black followers, and 
they dabbled their delicate black kid legs about the 
hooks and picked at the bait, till one of them lifted the 
cast out of the water and foul-hooked a neighbour by 
the leg, another was caught by a wing-feather, and we 
pulled them on deck as if we were pulling butterflies, 
the resistance they offered was so slight. A single drop 
of chloroform gave their little nerves eternal rest. The 
presence of these birds is generally supposed to be a sign 
of storm. We find that during a gale there are always 
numbers round our stern, apparently feeding on the 
minute crustaceans and sea bells that we turn up in our 
course. In fine, calm weather they seemed to spread out 
over the sea and hunt in wider beats; but rough or 
smooth, from St. Kilda in the north, we have had them 
always with us. The men think they have some other 
than earthly relations. Is it not wonderful how these 
delicate, fragile birds, only about a third of the size of a 
blackbird, can keep the sea thousands of miles from land, 
flickering up the side of the steep grey waves, dipping 
their dainty black beaks and paddling with their delicate 
feet in the carded foam as if the howling gale that is 
tearing our canvas is a mere breath to them. I think 


they enjoy the cold, rough days. Their movements then 


124 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


are brisker, and there seems to be more food about for 
them. In the hot, calm days they seem tired, and wheel 
about languidly, close to the surface. 

St. Petrous is the name the Germans give them; but 
they paddle along the surface of the water so neatly, and 
they are so gentle and such faithful followers, that the 
name does not suit them; and though they are fishermen, 
they are most gentlemanly little fellows, ana are always 
neatly dressed; their manners are polished, and they 
never quarrel, and speak to each other with gentle voices, 
a soft twitter like the tweet of sand-martins. 

... For several mornings past the doctor has been read- 
ing on the port quarter-boat after breakfast. It annoyed 
me to see him getting through so much work whilst I did 
nothing but feed petrels. Sir Joshua Reynolds’ favourite 
quotation, ‘Wudla dies sine linea, came back to my mind, 
motto for a mere craftsman, I know; still I acted on it and 
drew the doctor working. I could only see the top of his 
straw hat, his knees on either side and the book between, 
but they gave the effect of intense mental action and phy- 
sical repose which is characteristic of so many really great 
works of art. When the line was drawn I took it round 
for scientific criticism, and lo! the doctor was sleeping.— 
(This drawing has not survived the voyage.) A most 
mistaken idea this that we artists have, never to let a 
day go by without destroying a plain surface. I know 
this, that our greatest poet-painter, all the time he was 
sailing amongst the islands in the blue seas of Greece, 
never touched pencil but once, and his artist companion 


scribbled all the time, and is only known to the General 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 125 


Public. Why! any one with a school-board education 
can draw lines, but it is the thought we wish. A line 
is an unfortunate restriction which I trust we shall do 
without in kingdom-come... . 

A wandering albatross put in an appearance this 
evening. We expected to see a good big bird, and were 
not disappointed. He beat up from leeward over the 
wind waves With his huge wings outstretched and motion- 
less, just as described in books. He sailed round our 
stern with grand sweeping circles, and then came and 
hung over our wake, following us without an apparent 
effort ; and we were greatly impressed. Then he slewed 
his head to one side and brought his left foot forward—a 
great pink, fleshy, webbed affair—and scratched his eye. 
It was very clever to do this on the wing, without 
changing his course, and I am not sure that every 
albatross could do it; but the poor beast lost all its little 
dignity and our respect, and we jeered at it. 

No doubt they are foolish birds, by reason of their eyes 
being small and in the back top corner of their heads. I 
wonder why the ancient mariner shot his specimen; was 
it to eat or to make a muff for his girl? Why did he not 
catch it on a hook? A Norwegian sailor told me they 
are good to eat after they have been fed for eight days on 
ship food, biscuits, and the like. We have many birds 
following us now, several kinds of petrels and skuas. 

We have more names for these birds than there are 
varieties ; each man has a fancy name that he gives to 
the lot. One puts them all down as Cape hens, another 


Cape pigeons, and one old sailor who has lived on shore 


126 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


for a few months is convinced that one of them is a 


cuckoo ; he is quite sure of this. 


Friday, 11th.—Lat. 27.54; long. 38.13. The wind in 
the south-west and the barometer rising in these latitudes 
means more wind from the south,—a fine wild sunset, 
the sun going down in a bank of clouds lighting the crests 
of a stormy sea. With the albatross has come the 
weather associated with it. He has been sailing after us 
all day with a queer, fearful, ‘ Alice in Wonderland’ look 
in his little eye, as if he had seen the snark but couldn’t 
tell where. In reality he has been thinking about taking 
a bait that we have been trailing astern. Two or three 
times he sat down beside it in a leisurely way with his 
wings bundled up on his back, and looked so surprised 
when the pork went past; then he would wait for some 
time after that, paddling about as if it was of no con- 
sequence, stretch out his neck and his wings and run 
along the surface of the water till he got the wind under 
his wings, and come sailing round us again. Once he 
gets his wings straight out he keeps them so as if they 
were stretched on wire. Then he comes sweeping over 
the line and looks it up and down very carefully, ‘with 
outstretched neck and ever-watchful eye,’ and sits down 
beside the bait again ; this time we have spare line and 
let out as fast as we can, to give him achance. He tried 
the bait several times, once picked it up in his long, thick, 
flesh-coloured beak, dropped it, and then swallowed it, 
but he didn’t like the cold of ‘sailies’’ hook inside it, so 
he rejected it. We have not caught him yet, and we 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 127 


are beginning to wonder if he is quite such a fool as 
he looks. 


Saturday.—Did nothing all day but try to catch the 
albatross that scratched its eye; another one has joined 
it—a younger bird with some dark feathers about its neck 
and head. Cold S.W. wind and no rest. Shipped a lot of 
water to-day'; going three and a half knots. Now we are 
accustomed to the heaving and the pitching, and under- 
stand the motions of this particular vessel, and feel as 
secure as if we were sailing a small boat. But you can’t 
sleep much when each roll throws you from your back into 
a praying position on the side of your bunk, let alone 
the water gurgling and flopping about the floor, 

Our jib blew away this morning—sails, reefed topsails, 
courses and staysails. A stormy sunset to-night; a 
ragged band of yellow sky between two banks of hard- 
edged purple cloud, a sombre blue-black sea with 
bursting grey sea-horses tipped with yellow sunlight; a 
dreary tract of storm-tossed ocean waves, 

I nearly lost my Ossian to-day—my much-thumbed, 
travelled, weather-worn, dog-eared Ossian, I was making 
pencil notes for illustrations against the day I meet a 
Gaelic Rothschild or a publisher of my mind, when a 
lump of green sea came aboard and turned my notes into 
water colours. It is a unique sensation getting solid 
water on your back—a very depressing sensation. 

Ossian, to my mind, is the only poet you can listen to 
in the open air. In this fine wild weather, when the wind 
rises and sings, you cannot hear other poets at all. He 


128 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


is the poet for sailors and soldiers and hunters, for all 
men who have lived under epen skies and slept on the 
earth’s bare breast. His are the tales that mothers read 
to their children if they would rear heroes and noble 
daughters—of the days when our fathers drove the 
Romans from behind their stone walls, of the days when 
men were few and great in soul and body, and lived full 
lives, with music and art and hunting and ashing, when 
the land was unploughed, nor yet plagued with cities and 
overrun with a too prolific people. Here in the rolling 
forties, where the driv- 
ing rain-clouds sweep 
the sea with their dark 
trailing skirts, where 
the gloom of the hail- 
storm alternates with 
flashes of sunlight and 
rainbow, where the 
sound of many waters 
is always, here one can 
read Ossian, his words 
increase in meaning as 
the wind rises and hums 


through the rigging. 


... Long his voice has 
sounded through the dim aisles of the past. Hard it is 
to understand at first, meaningless as wind in mountain 
tops. Then as we listen our souls rise and the hero 
bard speaks from his cloud, far distant, filling our hearts 


with joy, with the glory of the past, listening to 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 129 


the tales of the times of old, to the deeds of other 
years, 

Nomme des nommes! We have let her up in the wind 
with a vengeance. Hard up it is then, and back to our 
course again. 

We had fried flying fish to-day and found them 
delicious—something between herring and mackerel— 
wish we had more. Now we are getting rather far 
south for them. There is generally a rush to get hold 
of them when they jump on board. They usually arrive 
at night, and flapper on the wet decks, so that we in our 
bunks can hear them and jump out and catch them, 
You can imitate the flapping sound exactly by beating 
the palms of your hands alternately on the wet deck. 
Most of us have been taken in by this imitation at some 
time, and have come rushing on deck to get hold of the 


expected fish. 


CHAPTER pot 


UNDAY....A day of loafing and yarns. We 
had yarns at breakfast, pawky stories about Scotch 
Sabbatarian hypocrisy, yarns at dinner and tea, and, 
between meals, sketches and yarns. No wonder sailors 
can tell stories so well. Our first mate, Mr. Adams, is 
master at the art of spinning yarns. The descendant 
of generations of sea-captains, he has inherited an in- 
exhaustible supply suited to all audiences. It fairly takes 
one’s breath away to hear him drop from the broad Dun- 
donian accent to that of a Cockney jarvie, then change 
to soft Inverness, pigeon-English or Glasgie sing-song, 
always winding up with the harsh Dundee accent for 
company’s sake, 1 suppose. It is a positively dangerous 
accent this last, or rather manner of speech I should call 
it. A stranger in Dundee on hearing it for the first time 
instinctively stands on guard—left hand in advance, right 
fore-arm over the mark. ‘Edinburrie’ is comparatively 
pleasant and soothing, We have representatives of all our 
Scotch accents on board and some English. Curiously 
our professor of Cockney is a Campbell. This afternoon 
I listened to pure Peterhead accent, it is melancholy, 
the notes are those of the yellow-hammer several octaves 
lower, a sustained note in the minor dropping a semi- 
tone at the end of the sentence. The speaker made 


my teeth water with his descriptions of the sport in 
130 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 131 


Davis Straits,—fishing and shooting that we in Scotland 
would give our ears for. 

Why do our traders not go up to the Straits and make 
settlements, and tin salmon, and trade in skins? On the 
south-east side of Greenland there are a few Danish settle- 
ments, but the east coast of the Strait is practically un- 
hunted, only two Peterhead men spend the winter there 
with the natives. Surely fortunes are to be made where 
you can get a white bear-skin or a narwhal’s horn for a 
dozen cartridges or a rifle dog-head, where you can fill 
a ship with reindeer hams or land hundreds of salmon at 
a haul. What think ye of this last, you scringe-netting, 
poaching yachtsmen (with whom I sympathise), you who 


risk fines and ignominy for a basket of sea-trout ? 


Wednesday, 16th.—Lat. 34.2; long. 39.16. We caught 
three stormy petrels to-day with a Tweed-cast and 
finished them with chtoroform. I consider myself a fairly 
lucky fisherman usually, but the albatross beats me alto- 
gether. A salmon fly he broke and threw aside in scorn, 
and a cod hook he hung on to with his hard beak till he 
bent it straight, and then went off chuckling and swallowed 
the bait. Seeing the hand of fate in this, ] wound up 
my line and left the albatross-catching to others, and by- 
and-bye the same bird came circling round, and seeing a 
tempting strip of bacon fat he sat down beside it and 
picked itup. This time it had the sail-maker’s hook inside 
the bacon, something like a large button hook with a 
sharp point, and this caught in the curved tip of his great 
bill, and willy-nilly he had to come on board. He did 


132 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


Le>) 


look ridiculous being towed through the water like a wet 
rag, with his bill gaping wide open, showing a pink throat ; 
on deck his wings were crossed and so locked behind him. 
He measured ten feet across his outstretched wings. This 
was quite a small one, I have heard of one that was caught 
measuring fifteen feet from tip to tip. The skin being 
possibly of ‘commurrcial vallye’ was stowed away, and the 
doctor gave me a lecture on its internal economy. The 
lightness of the bones is very remarkable, those of a 
twenty-pound albatross only weigh two and a half pounds; 
they look as if they would weigh much more. The men 
use the radius bone of the forearm for a pipe stem, and 
the skin of their feet makes a very pretty tobacco pouch. 

Our thoughts are now concentrated on the Falklands, 
longing to see land of any kind, rocks and earth, green 
grass and trees, something to jump on that is not ever- 
lastingly on the move. There is nothing more delightful 
by contrast than the gentle roll of a sailing craft, but 
continued for nearly three months it becomes tiresome. 
How we long, too, for milk and green food, and for fresh 
water especially ! 

A fortnight of fine weather ought to bring us to the 
islands, but fine weather is hardly what we can expect 
down in these stormy latitudes. 

To-day the cook’s galley was taken down and stowed 
below, and now Peter cooks in the focsle. This has the 
advantage of keeping the focsle warm and dry, but it 
makes the place very crowded ; there are some thirty-seven 
living there, lying on shelves, two on each shelf ; what with 


their chests and wet clothes, want of light and air,and the 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 133 


vermin and smells from the bilge, it’s a wonder to me 
the men can live. One can scarcely stand upright in it, 
yet they make merry over the miserable housing. They 
had the option of staying at home, of course, and 
starving. I would be ashamed to keep a dog in the 
place myself. 

So far as Peter is concerned it is a change for the better, 
for he and the galley have been once or twice nearly 
washed away, but I miss seeing him on deck. He was an 
interesting figure in the ship’s company, a tall thin man 
with a bushy beard and a somewhat severe aspect, his 
shirt-sleeves were always turned up, and every now and 
then he popped his head out of the square house and 
made the men on deck squirm with laughter by his 
jests and snatches of funny songs. 

The boys rather score by having Peter and the galley 
below. In the night watches they can go below and warm 
themselves, light theif pipes and forage round, and then 
when the mate comes down the main hatch they nip up 
the forescuttle, or vice versa. 

I must not forget to give a sketch of our ship’s dog. The 
cook and she are great allies and play at hide-and-seek 
round the galley whenever there’s a moment to spare. If 
the cook is busy Fanny is given a leg up to the galley 
roof and sits there with the ship in charge. When it—she, 
correctly speaking—came on board, it was nothing but 
an insignificant black ball with protuberances where its 
legs were to be; and it used to roll across the decks at 
every lurch, now it has grown long legs, rickety from 


want of milk, I suppose, and has developed signs of its 


134 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


retriever, gordon-setter, and other ancestors. Though 
physically weak it is intellectually a giant. Forty-five 
able-bodied seamen and boys have devoted themselves to 
her education, so what she does not know of ship’s life is 
not worth mentioning. I am afraid, however, her morals 
are lax. Yesterday I saw her with her head in a beef tin 


which I am sure did not belong to her mess. She had 


apparently got into the tin leisurely and wanted to get 
out ina hurry. After running round the fore-deck back- 
wards she succeeded in this and went off on another 
foray ; then she found the Spectioneer’s tin of marmalade 
open, and puppy-like plunged her head in and lapped it 
up, till fate, in the form of a sea-boot, caught her in the 


ribs ; she scratched her nose on the ragged tin as she 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 135 


extracted her head, and bolted up the fore-hatch woo- 
hooing. It is a hard life at sea, but it has its pleasures. 


Wednesday, 23rd.—Lat. 41.13; long. 49.9. It is blow- 
ing a living gale this morning, S. by W., and we 
are lying close-hauled under a scrap of main-topsail and 
fore and main-staysail. It is a wonder they hold in the 
bolt ropes with such a strain. It is a nasty place to meet 
with a gale, one has heard so often of vessels hammering 
for months against head-winds down this road that we 
fear lest we have the same fate. Miles and miles of white- 
capped rollers come charging down on us. What dreary 
wide valleys lie between them! As each huge crest 
rushes past us the Balena shakes herself as if with relief 
at danger past, pulls herself together, and sinks down into 
the long valley before her and steadily rises again to the 
top of the next hill of water, now and then the crest of 
a sea comes thunde?ing on to our fore decks, throwing 
the hard white foam high over our foretop. Cold, clear 
patches of blue show at times through the grey sky, and 
transient gleams of faint sunlight fall on our foaming 
decks, and cheer our spirits for a moment, then pass 
away to leeward, lighting up endless ranks of angry 
white-headed seas... . Now the sky has darkened, and 
the rain has come up with the wind. It makes the seas 
easier. We can only see the first three ranks of the waves 
rising and falling, their white heads threatening us like 
ghosts out of the gloom of mist and spray to windward. 
The Balzena is light now, as we have burnt a good deal 


of our coal, and she rises to the sea almost as easily as 


136 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


the petrels that flutter in our wake. One wandering 
albatross keeps us company and hangs calmly on the 
gale looking down at our troubles. 

For several days past we have had the monotony of 
an empty horizon broken by a vessel on the same course 
as ourselves. 

To any one who has not been for months at sea, shut off 
from the rest of the world by a circle of empty horizon, it 
must be difficult to realise the pleasure there is in meeting 
another ship. It makes the little world on board feel it 
is still related to the lands where people live far away over 
that grey wall of sea. A great longing comes over us to 
go alongside to speak to the people on board, and see new 
people, perhaps friends. But all we do is to nod a distant 
good-day with our flags, as stiffly as the two Englishmen 
on Mont Blanc. Even signalling the most simple salute 
causes great excitement on board, suppressed excitement, 
not noticeable by any on board “the other ship, we 
trust, unless, perhaps, when the flag halyards carry away, 
or the code blows overboard, or the flags get mixed up 
with the backstays or topping lift. I think no one on 
board knows much about signalling except our first mate. 
He succeeds in replying in great style, as quickly as any 
vessel we have met as yet. 

This barque, like most of those going Capewards, over- 
took us, and passed us to windward close-hauled. We 
exchanged compliments in passing. Guy Manunering 
was her name, from the Tyne, bound round the Horn 
for Calloa or Frisco. Then the wind went round to 


the other tack and we found ourselves again to wind- 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 137 


ward, and the Guy Mannering hull down to leeward, 
But she soon made up on us, and passed to windward 
a mile or two astern, and now we begin to feel quite old 
acquaintances. 

Then on Saturday it blew hard, and we got away ahead 
again by dint of carrying on whilst the Guy Mannering 
lay-to under topsails and staysails. Her lying-to made 
us think she had ladies on board, or that something was 
the matter, and on Sunday she came up to us again and 
signalled, ‘Have you a doctor on board?’ and asked us 
to send him if possible. This was next to impossible as 
there was a tremendous kick-up of a sea after the gale, 
and a boat would have been smashed if lowered, so we 
stood by each other rolling our keels out and waited till 
the sea went down. 

After dinner the starboard whale-boat on our quarter 
was manned, and ‘the doctor’s carriage stops the way’ 
was the cry. The doctor was titivating himself in his 
bunk, so the carriage hung a-waiting in mid-air. When he 
appeared at last we were all greatly pleased. Lately his 
habiliments have been sketchy, merely a few ragged white 
flannels in the middle of some long mahogany-brown ex- 
tremities, causing some remark. Willie Watson whispered 
to me the other day on this subject, ‘Guide us, sir, ’twad 
gar the folks at hame look gash gin the doctur gaed doon 
the Hayne i’ thae duds.’ On this occasion the habiliments 
were beautiful, and did the ship and his profession credit. 
It is no easy thing to turn out neatly rigged on board 
ship, especially on a whaler, but it can be done,—the 
doctor proved it. 


138 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


There was a-pretty girl on board the Guy Mannering. 
This was perhaps why the doctor took such trouble. 
We saw her with 
the glasses, a 
wicked thing in 
blue fishing alba- 
tross, on Sunday. 
We could hardly 
see her face but 


she was pretty— 


we were all quite 
sure of that, pos- 


sibly because she 


was the first of her 
kind we had seen 


 for months. 
The Guy Man- 


neringe was showine us a bird’s-eve view of her white 
to} D> 


decks and brasswork alternately with the barnacles on her 
lowest plates, and as we were rolling heavily too, it was just 
a trifle risky getting the boat away. When everything was 
ready in.the boat, the men in their seats, the oars looked 
to, the doctor seated on a stretcher, and George standing 
with his long steering oar shipped, she was lowered from 
the davits a few feet, then as we rose from a roll to 
windward the falls were let go and the boat and crew 


dropped on to the swell with a slight splash and immedi- 


1 T have since heard the Guy Mannering was wrecked about a fort- 
night later in the Magellan Straits. All hands got ashore in the boats. Poor 
thing, I do hope she was not frightened. 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 139 


ately she was shoved clear. Out went five long black 
spidery oars, and away went the graceful white boat, sud- 
denly come to life, lifting over the long swell as lightly as 
a white sea-bird, leaking like a sieve, with two men bailing 
for all they were worth. Of all beautiful boats these 
Yankee carvel-built whale-boats are far away the most 
graceful that I have ever seen. I had often admired the 
exquisite flow of their lines as they hung on the davits at 
our quarters. Our native whale-boats forward on the 
skids are really pretty, but they won’t compare with these 
American boats for grace. 

I made a jotting of the doctor’s visit. The Guy 
Mannering hove-to with mainyard aback, her white 
sails dark against a pearly grey sky. It is easy to draw 
something like the barque, but as impossible to catch the 
movement and lines of the whale-boat as to catch the 
expression of the Milo. 

Next to the difficulty of getting off a ship in a sea-way 
is the difficulty of getting on board one. This was 
managed all right, and we saw the doctor scramble up 
the Guy Mannering’s chains and disappear under the 
poop, and then the boat backed off, and all hands set 
to work bailing her. We were disappointed with the 
doctor as our ambassador. When he came back he told 
us he had scarcely seen the blue dress, and had paid all 
his attention to its father, the master of the ship, who 
was unwell. 

We then wished each other a prosperous voyage in 
the language of the mercantile marine, dipped our en- 


signs very slowly, and went on our ways, the fair one 


140 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


waving us adieu with a tiny handkerchief. We quarrelled 
for the rest of the day for whom her salute was in- 
tended. 

But who can write about blue dresses, and draw ships 
with this dismal gale again howling through our rigging 
and the poor Balena trembling all over? This after- 
noon a sea struck us, that would have carried away an 
ordinary ship’s bulwarks in splinters. It burst clean over 
our fore-yard! The watch were lying out on it, reefing 
the fore-sail, and they had their boots filled! Another 
burst over our quarter, and enough went down the funnel 
to make things uncomfortable in the engine-room. As I 
write in my bunk, the water swishes from side to side as 
we roll, gurgling round my sea-boots. All the sail we 
have set is a close-reefed main-topsail, and our diminutive 
main staysail, a mere rag. Last night the sky and sea 
were as wild and ugly-looking as one could conceive, the 
sea was tossing wildly in dreary vistas of huge billows 
lit with the fitful gleams of cold sunset. There was one 
most extraordinary cloud effect, that I have never seen 
before, a canopy of cloud covered the sky, from the 
horizon almost to the zenith, this was dull blue-grey 
beneath, and showed white where its ragged edge met the 
blue above our heads. As we looked, out of the lower 
dark side there grew downwards some eight or nine extra- 
ordinary forms like fungi or fingers of a dull white colour, 
in no way beautiful, but ominous and uncanny in the 
extreme, and the like of which none on board had ever 
seen. The colour of the sea is green now, not the clear 


bottle-green we see in our seas at home, where there is 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 141 


sandy bottom, but an opaque olive colour like absinthe, 
and here and there are bits of brown sea-weed possibly 
brought out by La Plata current. 


Thursday, 24th Nov.— Lat. 40.39; long. 48.57. Light wind. 
This morning some whales lay close alongside us. They 
were big fel- 
lows, over forty 
feet long, They 
heaved their 
black pectoral 


fins and enor- 
mous tails high 
above the sur- 


face, and chur- 


ned the water 
white, rolling, grunting, and blowing, in smothered bliss. 
The sailors say they were love-making. They paid 
no attention to their namesake, the Balana, though she 
was nearly on the top of them. They were possibly 
the Pacific hunch-backs, but I could not be sure. Cer- 
tainly they were not the Ba/ena mysticetus that we are in 
search of, so we let them be. 

We saw many hundreds of small whales or porpoises 
the night before this last gale. They came up from the 
N.W., and passed us swimming S.E,, travelling in com- 
panies of seven or eight, plunging half out of the seas, 
and tossing up spirts of white water. They were about 
seven feet in length, with black round heads and a white 


patch over the eye. Some had patches of grey-white 


142 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


on their backs. They resembled the American drawings 


of the pigmy sperm, but had a larger dorsal fin. 


Saturday, 26th Nov.We are making a course to the 
East of the Falkland Islands. We intended to keep down 
the Patagonian coast, but these south-westerly gales have 
driven us to the eastward. Every hour, and on all sides, 
there are grand cloud effects, towering white clouds with 
purple rain skirts-trailing across the cold blue sky, and 
rough green sea with blinding hail-showers, alternating 
with sudden gleams of sunlight, and broken shafts of 
rainbow. There is but one man I know, Sinclair, one of 


our Edinburgh artists, who can paint the grandeur of 


1 We saw the same kind of whales in the following March, when we were 
on our voyage home, and nearly in the same position. They were travelling 
northward then in thousands, going about six knots, and considerably slower 
than the rate at which they were swimming south. They were accompanied by 
their young suckers, these were about three feet long. Almost all the whales 
and porpoises we saw south of the line on our voyage out were travelling 
south or south-east, and those we saw on the voyage home were travelling 
north with their young. I conclude they have a grand nursery down in the 
ice, where they bring forth their young in the Antarctic summer, and come 
north when the winter sets in. 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 143 


such wild skies. We have much the same effects in the 
north, without the long seas; but as ninety per cent. of 
people are indoors or under umbrellas at the time, they 
do not understand pictures of such effects, they prefer 
Nature in her pretty moods, 

There is still a heavy cross sea running, but without 
much wind. Last night we brought down the royal yards. 
They will not be needed for some time to come, for we have 
left the region of light winds. 

Weddell, in his voyage to the Antarctic in 1823, de- 
scribes many of his crew being laid up with colds from 
the constant wetting by rain and sea-water, and here we 
are in 1892 in the same neighbourhood, having just the 


same experience. 


Sunday.—Last night we spent lying-to, under close- 
reefed main-top-sail and stay-sail, with a strong gale from 
the south, with furious hail-showers, and an enormous sea 
running. Sleep there was for none of us. Men thought 
of their souls’ welfare, or dreamt of the curtained room 
at home, and the easy-chair by the fireside, each thought 
of what he valued most and would lose, if one of those 
seas boarded us. I thought of my sketches, and how 
they would spoil so easily, Bruce of his notes and instru- 
ments, and Jack in the focsle thought of his new sea- 
boots, his two months’ pay, and the store of baccy he has 
won at whist. Each has a stake he would be loth to 
lose, even though we are tired to death with this endless 
tossing. 


Thanks to the strength of the Balzena, and the skill of 


144 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


those who built her, we pulled through the night all right. 
The day has passed, a gloomy day of sudden squalls and 
stinging hail-showers. 

At night we turned our thoughts to serious things, as 


who would not in such heavy weather? We read some 


‘ Sunday books, which had been supplied by the same 
wholesale firm in Liverpool that supplied our ship’s 
biscuits. The biscuits are good, but the literature is not. 
The tract I read to-day wound up with this exhortation : 
‘T hope this story will make my young readers kinder to 
cats. It is sinful and cruel to throw stones at them. It 


is far better to do as the little rhyme says :— 


“T love little pussy, its coat is so warm, 
And if I don’t hurt her, she’ll do me no harm.”’ 


There is a good deal of common sense and pictorial sug- 
gestiveness in ‘the little rhyme,’ but it does not come up 
to the quality of the biscuits. People who send these 
papers on board should bear in mind that there are not 


i i it, ad 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 145 


always cats on board ship, and seldom stones to throw at 
them. We had a cat—I have referred to it already; it 
was treated with the greatest consideration to the last, 


and we have got nothing but gales for our kindness, 


Watching her take it green. 


CHAPTER 2om 


ONDAY, 282k Nov.—Lat. 43.2 ; long. 50.24. Fine 
weather again. 

Through my port under the break of the poop I can 
see the sun shining on our flesh-coloured mainmast, with 
purple shadows from the rigging encircling it. The sunlight 
and the dry warm air make hope revive in us again. 
Men are busied about the decks doing odd jobs, and 
on the deck overhead I hear the boys chipping and 
scraping the white paint off the renaissance rail that 
runs round our poop, preparing it for a fresh coat of 
paint. 

There is a pleasant, gentle, to-and-fro roll that tells of 
a following wind. Now a chantie is started as the crew 
haul on the main topsail halyards. Lately the chanties 
have been few, and half drowned by the racket of the 
storm and hail-showers; but this morning there is a 
ring of triumph in the hearty voices, and the white sails 
that have been imprisoned so long seem to signal to 
the gale as they unfurl that we have beaten it, and are 
ready to face it again. 

It is a new chantie to me, this old song, which one of 
our harpooneers trolls out—sung in the ark, probably, when 
Noah hauled in the gangway. Marshall has an endless 
stock of these chanties, and brings out a new one when 


we get tired of the last. 
146 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 147 


Chaniie man: 
All together: 
Chantie man: 
All together : 


Ran-zo was a tailor, 
Ranzo, boys, Ranzo ! 
Now he’s called a sailor, 
Ranzo, boys, Ranzo! 


The skipper was a dandy, 
Ranzo, boys, Ranzo ! 

And was too fond of Brandy, 
Ranzo, boys, Ranzo ! 


They call him now a sailor ! 
Ranzo, boys, Ranzo ! 

The master of a whaler ! 
Ranzo, boys, Ranzo ! 


There is a fine sudden ring in the chorus that goes well 


with the wind and squalls. ‘Belay,’ shouts the mate, and 


the crew repeat ‘belay, and the chantie stops in the middle 


of a Ran-zo. 


Away the men go forward laughing and 


Skinning albatross. 


splashing and sliding along the wet decks to set the fore 


topgallant, and the chantie sounds far away. In the 


evening the wind rose again from squalls toa gale. For 


the last six days we have made but seventy miles. Thir- 


148 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


teen albatross were killed to-day, the excuse being that 


‘they may be of value.’ 


1st December.—Still strong winds and gales from south 
and west, and we make no progress to speak of, but 
hammer away in the same place under close-reefed top- 
sail and staysails. Saw a sea-swallow to-day—the first 
we have seen. It is the prettiest bird of the sea, I think 
—our halcyon of summer days in the north. It had a 
spot of white in the middle of its black cap. 


We picked up some sea-weed to-day—a long, amber- 
coloured, round stem, with pear-shaped pendants, hanging 
like leaves, at intervals of a few inches. On the base of 
each pendant there were exquisite clusters of barnacles of 
delicate grey, violet, and white. 

A great variety of birds are following us now, or rather 
flying about our neighbourhood ; for we can scarcely be 
said to have been moving, but merely pounding up and 


down in the same hole, making nothing but lee way. 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 149 


The most striking of the birds is the Molly Mauk—a 
powerful bird, somewhat like our great blackback, but 
many times larger. The old bird has a white head and 
body and black wing-covers, a black beak, and a dusky 
mark over its eye that gives it a keen, hawklike expression. 
Then there are usually four or five albatross within sight, 
in different stages of plumage, besides Cape pigeons and 
other petrels and sea-birds, the names of which I do not 
know, as, unfortunately, owing to my hurried exodus from 
Edinburgh, I was unable to bring books on bird life in 
the South Seas; we have in consequence to give our bird 
companions names that would scarcely be recognised by 
scientists at home. 

Whilst sitting at tea to-night, trifling with salt junk 
and ship biscuits, and clinging to the legs of the table, we 
got on to the well-worn subject of the comparative merits 
of solid bullets versus shells for big game shooting. As 
an instance in point, *l quoted a Ceylon yarn about Mr. 
——, who brought down an elephant with a single ball, 
dead as he thought, but found it was very much the 
reverse of dead when he began to cut it up. There 
were details about this story which raised it high in 
the ranks of tall stories. But the story is not yet written 
that our mate could not cap with ease, and down he 
came on the top of this one with a yarn that would make 
the readers of The (eld shudder. 

‘Hoots, that’s naething, he said. ‘I ken a man Tod, 
Wullie Tod, ye’ll hae heard tell o’ him, Spectioneer 
o’ the Arctic. I seed him mysel’ pit aucht-an-twenty o’ 


they expanseeve bullits intill a white she-bear an’ it nane 


150 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


the waur. Ay, but it’s fac’ I’m tellin’ ye. ’Twas in 
Disco Bay, the year the J/ontrose gaed doon. We warna 
sae far frae the same berth oorsels forbye. Ae nicht Tod 
and me was danderin’ roon’ the ship. We were fast grippit 
i the flaw, ye ken, when what should we licht upon but a 
great muckle bear, raxin’ hersel’ 7’ the bield o’ a hummock. 
Up went Wullie’s gun, an’ he let flee, straicht intill her 
lug. Ay, and would ye believe it, she jist gied a bit 
glint ower her shouther an’ gaed on scartin’ hersel’,—never 
let on she heeded ava’. Man, but Wullie was fashed. 
He was aye ane o’ they thochtless, venturesome chiels, so 
what would he dae but tak a’ the caertritches I had in 
ma pooch an’ gang richt up till the bear—he wadna be 
furthir frae her than you an’ me—an’ pit in ane bullit 
after anither—sax-and-twenty coontin’ the first. Maybe 
ye wadna believe it, but, jist as fast as Wullie pit them in, 
the auld b 


‘ Hae ye ony mair caertritches?’ quo’ he, gey stunnert like. 


spittit them a’ oot agin! 


“Twa, says I. An’ I hands them ower till him—twa 
auld yins I mindit 7? ma waistkit pooch, ane wi’ a hollow 
tappit bullit, tither a solid yin. 

‘Weel, the bear was haudin’ awa’ a wee thing, whiles 
girning ower her shouther, an’ says I, Wull, ye ‘ll no shoot 
the noo ; it’s nae manner of gude ava’. ’Twas jist tempt- 
ing providence; for they’re gey sensiteeve i’ the hinner- 
ends they beasties, ye ken. 

‘Ay wull I,’ says he, ‘it’ll gar her jump onyway.’ 
Man, he was wud! Weel, he lets flee wi’ the hollow 
tappit bullit, and he micht as weel hae fired intill a peat 


hag, for a’ the bear minded. It jist gied a bit wallup, and 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 151 


gaed maybe a thocht faster, hirplin ower the snaw, 
leuching whiles till hersel’. She wad be guid twa hunnert 
yairds awa’ when Wull pit the last caertritch intill his gun 
and let awa’—the solid yin, ye ken—and jist turned the auld 
besom tapsie-turvie in the snaw, as deid as Julius Caesar. 

‘Na, na, nane o’ your fusionless toom tappit splattering 
bullits for me. Gie me the auld-fashioned yins for bears, 
solid yins wi’ a guid pickle o’ diamond poother ahint 
them’. 

Once we begin bear stories there is no end, and before 
we finished our beef I had heard some half dozen un- 
published adventures, all of them founded on fact, and 
my respect and fear for the great Polar Bear had nearly 
vanished. There was the funny tale of the bear and the 
football. How W. T. was saved by a speaking-trumpet. 
How one Waddell killed eight bears in a cave, and the 
story of the bear that raised ‘cain’ in Dundee. The ship 
is full of these yarns,*fore and aft; some few are very old 
junk, but others are of incidents in the last few years. 

George, our second mate, has the reputation of being a 
great bear-slayer. When he and the second engineer 
came in to the second tea, I asked him if it was true that, 
last year, he had driven two wounded bears over a floe to 
the boats to save the crew the trouble of dragging them. 
George is a big man, tremendously energetic, and yet 
very gentle; he has light hair, and a yellow beard, with a 
suggestion of the berserker about him. He smiled with 
pleasure at the recollection, showing a set of ivories that 
would make a wise bear thoughtful ; but he was too busy 


with tea to go into details, and not a good yarner at best, 


tte Md 


152 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


all he found time to say was: ‘Ay, but I was gey nearly 
finished that time—I wadna do the like again for a guid 
deal’ He and Petrie, our bo’sun, so the story goes on 
board, wounded two full-grown bears, somewhere in the 
fore-quarters, and drove them five miles over pack ice to 
the boats to save themselves the trouble of dragging them, 
prodding them with an ice pick when they wanted to 
turn back. Just at the boats George grew too rash and 
prodded too hard, stumbled, and had the bear on the top 
of him in a twinkling. Petrie was just in time to put a 
bullet in the right place. This is gospel, and happened 
somewhere in 80° N. latitude last summer: you can buy 
white bear skins in Dundee for five or six pounds. But 
they must soon become scarce if so few ships continue to 


go to the whaling. 


Saturday, 3rd December—Lat. 46.14; long. ——. This 
is the first day for a fortnight fit to put one’s nose out 
of a sleeping-bag. The cold grey hills of water, whose 
summits were distant from each other ‘a long drive,’ are 
at last levelled down into a regular, white-capped sea, the 
white crests about a half iron shot apart. 

... We are on our course again! The sun shining 
brightly, the wind blowing from the S.E, a light and 
pleasant breeze, but sharp and chill like the wind that 
shakes down the yellow oak leaves at home in October. 
Here, it is by way of summer. Flocks of little fleecy 
clouds are racing across the pale blue sky, throwing strips 
of purple shadows across the crisp olive-green sea. On 


our poop the boys are sitting in the lee alleyway in a 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 153 


patch of sunlight, working at the mats and grommets for 
the oars against the time when we go whaling. 

George has brought his grey linnet on deck, such a 
small pet for such a big man! He has placed its cage on 
the engine-room skylight, where the little chap flirts his 
wings in the sunlight and sings a long, thready tune, 
without beginning or end, all about summer, and love, and 
flowers, and green loanings. Surely he knows that we are 
nearing land, and perhaps, ‘Only two more days from the 
Falklands’ is the refrain of his song. All through the 
tropics and the Doldrums he only twittered very quietly ; 
now he is singing his little throat sore George, as he 
sprinkles fresh sand in the cage, is humming ‘Only two 
more days for Johnnie, two more days,’ and we at the 
pumps are singing the chantie with hope in our hearts: 

‘Only two more days of pumping, 
Two more days. 
Oh! rock,and roll me over, 
Only two more days. 

Two more days till we jump on to firm ground and 
stretch our weather-beaten limbs and drink milk and eat 
fresh food. 

How we long for land! The water is done, so we must 
of necessity land and fill the tanks. The salt beef holds 
out, but we are very tired of it. There is any amount of 
it below, so we are told, in the ’tween-decks, pickled in 
brine in great casks. They say there are cows and sheep 
in the Falklands. What nice animals they are! What 
a world of suggestion in the mere word Cow—of milk, 


and cream, and the sweet fragrance of juicy steak! 


154 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


Not till this moment did we realise with Keats what ‘A 
thing of beauty’ is the ‘simple sheep.’ How full of sweet 
dreams, and health, and the pleasant sound of frizzling 
chops. 

It is this diet of pork and salt horse, I suppose, that 
makes us so poetical. The men are even getting poetical 


over their #zenus, and the tenor of their minstrelsy is :— 


‘Pork and peas, as much as you please, 
Beef and duff, not half enough !’ 

The fair wind fell this evening, and we got up steam, 
for which every one was thankful, especially those who 
reside in the neighbourhood of the engines, for the heat 
dries our bunks, and we can get our bedding and clothes 
dried in the stoke-hole. The engine-room has been as 
cold and wet as a cellar lately, coals being considered 
much too valuable to allow of the engineers keeping 
the place dry and warm, so the engineers have had a 
bad time lately. Our worthy chief engineer is nearly 
doubled up with rheumatics. Bruce recommended a 
course of massage to him, but he does not care for ‘ they 
new-fangled medicines,” He has a cure of his own ‘as 
guid as Sequah’s prairie ile.’ 

It seems as if we were never going to get to those 
Falkland Islands. The two days which we thought would 
bring us into Stanley Harbour have come and gone, and 
still our little screw is drilling away. 

The men are going about borrowing envelopes and 
writing paper, and testing rusty nibs on tarry thumb- 
nails. It is unlucky to write before you make your port ; 


but we have not much faith in our luck, so we write away, 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 155 


last wills and testaments, ‘billy-doos, and letters to the 
auld folks at hame. I have lettered some bags and chests 
lately, so Jack believes that I can write, and in con- 
sequence I am asked to address a number of these letters, 
but I think of the shock there would be at home when my 
writing appeared instead of the well-known, long-ex- 
pected, familiar fist, and sternly refuse. However, I supply 
Indian ink and a quill, and look on with admiration at 
the bold Runic inscriptions that fill the envelopes from 
sidesto side. 

.. . Every day the air grows keener and more bracing, 
and after the heat of the tropics we feel it just a trifle too 
cold now ; there is no more comfortable napping on deck 
in the hot nights, and the men have to march up and 
down in pea-jackets and mufflers to keep warm. When 
there is a chance they steal down the fore-hatch and brew 
coffee on the embers of the galley fire, and smoke their 
pipes, and tell yarns ia low voices, so as not to disturb the 
slumbers of the watch below, who lie in the dark shelves on 
either side of them. I went to the galley to-night to get 
hot water to make cocoa in the doctors bunk. The talk 
there was about the grog the men intend to have when 
they go ashore at the Falklands—an interesting subject, 
judging from the way they linger over it. Charlie L—— 
gave his mind on it. He is a soldierly-looking fellow, 
and sat bolt upright on his sea-chest with his arms 
crossed, his cap over his right eye, and his sunburned, 
lined face half lit by the light of a smoking flare lamp. 
He has not told us that he has been in the ranks, but we 


have our suspicions. His half Cockney, half colonial 


156 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


drawl makes rather a pleasant change from the perpetual 
guttural Doric of which we have so much, 

‘No beer for me,’ he remarks, ‘not wot they makes in 
the Colonies anyway,—wouldn’t take it as a prisint... . 
Why not? and wot do I know? Why, I’ve worked ina 
brewery,—.in Caipe town for nigh on two months, so I orter 
know. Here there was a pause, and you could hear the 
men sucking their short pipes and the breathing of 
the sleepers in the shelves. Charlie took the silence to 
mean interest, and continued his experiences. ‘Went there 
from Sydney, in a barquantine—nice sort of a barquantine 
she was. There were only four ’ands and miself in the 
focsle—sundowners they were, too—new chums a trying to 
get back to their ’omes agin! It was precious nearly never 
seeing ‘ome, I can tell yer. We was pumping ’er out two 
’alves of every watch. Talk o’ feedin’ and wermin! Woi, 
I’ve sailed in a few of the ’ome lines, and they are ’ungrie 
enough, but this ’ere barquantine were the very ’ungriest 
ship I ever did see. ’Ow no, not quite so ’ungry as this ’ere 
poor’s-’ouse—ardly! woi, the Berleener ain’t got enough 
food aboard ’er to feed a cockroach. Never sawr a ship 
before what couldn’t erford to keep a few cockroaches. 

‘Well, as I was sayin’, the old man ’e drank—somethin’ 
awful, and the mate ’e came aboard dizzy, and were blind 
the ’ole way acrost, so the old man and me did all the 
navergatin’—queer navergatin’ it war, too. When we comes 
to Caipe Town, thinks I to miself, it’s about time for you 
to leave ’ere, mi boy, so I leaves, and looks hout for another 
job. There was plenty o’ work goin’ and igh wages, but 


a bloomin’ serciety was a-goin’ round, prewentin’ deserters 
) g ; 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 157 


gettin’ any. I tried the perlice first—the mounted perlice 
they was gettin’ up to send up the country to do some 
fightin’, but I couldn’t join for the serciety. So I tried ata 
brewery, and I gets a job there,—it wurn’t very nice, fur they 
was mostly blacks working, but we w'ites and the blacks 
lived separate, in coorse. I’ad twenty-eight bob a week ; 
it was good paiy, but I was near goin’ to the rats there— 
wery near. We’ad one hour every morning to drink beer, 
just as much as ever we could ’old—and at night we ’ad 
each eight or twelve bottles to take ‘ome in a baskit,—ad 
to return the bottles, ye know, and the baskits in the 
mornin’—’ad two months of the brewery, and it was get- 
tin’ wery bad.—Oh, but it was hawrful—ad the ’orrors every 
mornin’! Well, one Sunday mornin’ me and my mate 
starts early and goes for a long walk into the country— 
and we ’ad some beer with us. Well, my mate ’e sits down 
by the roadside, ’e was wery tired and couldn’t go on no- 
how, so I goes on till’ I caime to Newlands, and goes into 
the town, and I ’adn’t gone wery far when I comes to a 
place where there was singin’ goin’ on. One o’ them 
rewivalist meetin’s as they ’as there, so I goes in, feelin’ 
wery tired, and sits down in the back of the ’all, and I puts 
my ’at on the floor and leans my ’ead on mi ’ands and was 
feelin’ hawrful. After a while an old man with a wite 
beard comes acrost an’ sits down alongside of me and sez’e: 
“Ere you saved?” wery civil and perlite, and I was feelin’ 
wery bad, so I sez yis. Well, hi gets up, and sings out 
glory allelulyer as loud’s yer like, and the president as was 
hadressin’ the meetin’ ’e stops ’is preachin’ and ’e comes up 


the ’all and sez ’e: “ Ere you saved, my friend ?” and I sez 


158 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


yez. Well, sez’e, will you hadress a few words to the meet- 
in’,and say as ’ow you was saved. So I gits me ’at in my 
‘and and gits up and says a few words, as ’ow I was wery 
glad to find a place like this ‘ere, and ’ow I was only a 
sailor man. Oh, I was feelin’ wery blue, ye know. So they 
gave me ‘arf a crown, and got me to ’elp them in the street 
preachin’, and promised me a job. 

‘Well, I ’elped them preachin’ for a week, a singing ’yms 
an’ talkin’ in the street, and saved some souls. I was livin’ 
with a laidy of colour while we was preachin’, and was 
gettin’ wery ’ard up, and ’ad spent all the few quid I came 
to Newlands with, hall but a shillin’ or two. So, thinks I, 
it’s about time they gave me that employment they was 
speakin’ of. So Iasks them, but they ’ad honly been a- 
thinkin’ of it, and I must wait a little, they sez. Well, I 
‘ad to go and sleep houtside the town in the country, and 
was ’alf froze with the cold, and ’ad nothin’ to eat. So I 
comes to the president of the serciety, and sez I, wery 
‘umble, Mr. President, sez I, I’s come to see if you ’ave got 
that hemployment you was talkin of, for I was ‘ard up, I 
sez, and ’adn’t ’ad any pay for a fortnight. ’E ’adn’t any 
hemployment! ’E was still a thinkin’ of it! So, sez I, 
Mr. President, would yer like ter know wot I thinks of 
you and yer serciety? I don’t know what ye thinks, sez ’e, 
but I know what we hare. Well, sez I, I thinks that you. 
and yer serciety are a bloomin’ set o’ frauds. I went back 
to Caipe Town after that, and got work breakin’ up an 
old man-o’-war.’ 

And so he yarns on, a very slight remark setting him 


off again when he comes to a pause. His experiences in 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 159 


the bush are more interesting than in the Cape. He 
looks back with longing to sheep-shearing time, to the 
riding across country from station to station, working like 
blazes amongst crowds of shearers one day, riding through 
the silent bush the next, with a chum, a swag, and a billie, 
to the lonely still nights under the stars after a fill of 
mutton chops and tea, with no man to call master. Ah 
me, would that I too were lying under the stars, far from 
here, perhaps amongst grey stones and warm heather, 
listening to the grass growing, waiting in the grey of 
the morning for the trail of the otter as he steals across 
the quiet water from the islands to his secret chamber in 
the cairn. 

But I am wandering, whilst Charlie is giving his opinion 
of New Zealand craft, telling of white squalls and high 
wages. These are subjects with which several of us are 
familiar, so there is all round discussion, and many inci- 
dents are quoted. Now he is off to Frisco, and gets 
wrecked off the Horn, and spends two weeks in the boats ; 
but this part of his experiences I have heard of already ; it 
is a gruesome matter to write about. At Frisco he gets 
into boarders’ hands, and is Shanghaied onto an American 
whaler, then sails from Frisco ’ome, but where ’ome is, I 
have never found out. I had thought it was Australia some 
time ago; this time it is apparently in the British Isles, 
where he acts as artillery officer's yachtsman. Then he 
sails from Dundee ona whaler to the Arctic regions. Last 
June he was in 82 north, and is now on the road to the 
Antarctic. Poor old Charlie! I’m afraid, as you say, ‘ you 


ain’t been brort up as you orter ‘a been, and how much 


160 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


you, or the women, or your faulty molecular construction 
are to blame I would not venture to affirm. But here 
comes Mr. Adams down the hatch, through the half dark 
focsle to break up our congress, which I dare say he 
would as soon join, but that discipline must be maintained 
even on a whaler. ‘Wha’s the best man here afore I cam 
doon?’ he shouts in a whisper. ‘What! half the watch 
below here! What, eh! call yourselves sailors, div you, 
crooning roond the fire like a wheen bletherin’ auld wives 
—gie’s a licht, ma pipe’s oot. When I served my time,’ 
he continues, and a grin goes round the company, for this 
remark generally prefaces some hair-curling yarn. The 
old men smile, because when our first mate served 
his time was such a short while ago. But, though they 
smile, men and boys would walk overboard for him. He 
is young, but he is also the biggest man on board, and the 
best all-round seaman, and they serve him with absolute 
obedience, not from fear, but from love and respect. So 
the skulkers bundle up on deck, just for appearance sake, 
for we have about twenty hands on each of the two 
watches, whereas an ordinary merchantman of our size 
would have but six or seven. It is considered no great 
matter if some of the watch go below for a pull at their 
pipes when the night is fine. 

This is becoming a long day’s reckoning. I must wind 
it up, for my candle burns low, and it’s time for a last pipe. 
Now the stillness of the night is broken—the mate has 
just shouted, ‘Lay aft here and lower the mizzentop stay- 
sail.’ From below I hear the clanging of the fireman’s 


shovel, as he swings the furnace door open and shovels on 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 161 


coal, so I know we are getting up steam, and the black 
smoke must be curling overhead into the cold night air, 
blackening our mizzentop. The engine begins its gentle 
throbbing, and we go steadily on; it is such a very small 
engine that, even with my bunk right on top of it, the 
vibration is rather pleasant than otherwise, the more so 
now that every twist of the screw sends us nearer land. 
Now to bed with this parting advice: if you want to lie 
snug and warm get between the folds of a Jaeger’s camel- 


hair sleeping-bag. 


Wednesday, 7th December—We ought to have seen 
land to-day, and I beg to apologise to the reader for the 
unavoidable delay. These southerly gales, and latterly 
these calms, have caused us much disappointment ; but if 
the reader will just wait one moment till that curtain of 
mist rises, we will have a beautiful view of the land on our 
starboard bow from where we are just now. We are 
almost sure that it cannot be more than ten or fifteen 
miles off. To judge from the amount of sea-weed floating 
about, we might be within twenty yards of the beach ; 
some patches are so thick, and so like the tangle on 
rocks, that it makes us feel uncomfortable to see the ship 
running dead on to them. 

Long ago people thought there was land to the north and 
east of the Falklands. It was reported by one or two early 
navigators and was never seen again; now it is believed 
that what was taken for land was only floating sea-weed. 
La Roche was the first to observe this supposed island. He 


discovered South Georgia in 1675, and it was after leaving 
L 


162 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


that island, which lies about two degrees east of the Falk- 
lands, that he discovered this lost land. 

The Spanish author who gives the abstract from La 
Roche’s voyage says that, ‘after leaving South Georgia, 
and sailing one whole day to the N.W., the wind came so 
violently at south that he stood N. for three days more, till 
they were got into 46° south, when, thinking themselves 
then secure, they relate that, directing their course for the 
Bahia de Todos Santos, in Brazil, they found in 45° south 
a very large and pleasant island, with a good port towards 
the eastern part; in which they found wood, water, and 
fish. They saw no people, notwithstanding they stayed 
there six days’ 

Captain Colnett, R.N., in H.M.S. Rattler, searched for 
the Isle Grand, as La Roche called it, in 1793; he 
expected to find it about lat. 45 south, and long. 34.21 
west. ‘This, he says, ‘I had often heard my old 
commander, Captain Cook, mention, as the position of the 
Isle of Grand’ But all Captain Colnett saw was a great 
quantity of feathers and birch twigs on the water, which 
was of a greenish hue. His men saw sand-larks, and a 
large species of curlew. Was there another deluge 
thereaway in the eighteenth century, and we in the 
Northern Hemisphere in complete ignorance? Has the 
Southern Continent, as it was called, gone down with all 
hands? If it has gone down, it has gone down deep, for 
the Royal Scottish Geographical Society’s maps put the 
depth there at 4000 fathoms, 

... That mist is long in rising. It is glassy calm, and 


we lie waiting to see where we are before we go on. We 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 163 


know the land is close at hand, from our soundings, and 
feel chirpy in consequence. A pair of penguins have put 
in an appearance. All the other birds have gone except 
our faithful stormy petrels. The penguins followed us 
under our counter for some time, swimming under water 
after the manner of their kind. Occasionally they put 
their heads into our atmosphere and looked about them, 
then dived and followed, looking up at us from below the 
water. But more of penguins anon. We hope to see 
them in their thousands when we get into the Antarctic 
ice, and many other strange birds besides. 

On the fore-deck the crew are ranging the cable, and 
the mate and his watch are getting the anchors off the 
focsle-head, heaving them with handspike and_ tackle 
till they hang at the catheads ready to let go, Viewed 
from the poop, this makes a splendid picture. Immedi- 
ately beneath me there is the wet deck and glistering 
bulwarks running up ipto perspective ; and on the focsle- 
head stands a group of dark figures, blurred in the 
mist, and framed in by the great folds of the clewed-up 
mainsail, that hang in grand sculpturesque folds, There 
is a feeling of sunlight in the mist, and up aloft a faint 
air flaps the damp sails at times, and brings down showers 


of rain-drops from the wet shrouds and yards. 


CHAPTER. AT 


HURSDAY Morning —At last a light cold air comes 

off the land on our starboard bow and lifts the edge 
of the mist veil from the smooth leaden-coloured sea, 
leaving a long band of faint yellow. In this we can see 
a line of low hills. . . . It is land at last, vague and hazy, 
but still land, and we gaze at it, longing to feel the rocks 
and the earth under foot... . 

The mist falls again, and it is almost a relief. The 
land is there all right, and all hands talk and laugh, 
and blow big smokes. There is a time when your feelings 
are too comfortable for expression—that is when you see 
land after three months of sea; and undoubtedly another 
is the time when you put foot on that land. 

The light air hardened to a fresh breeze, which rippled 
the greenish sea into many white-crested wavelets, and 
made the penguins’ black heads go bobbing. 

Now we have quite a distinct view of the lower parts of 
the land about nine miles to the south of us; but the mist 
is lying so low on the hills that it is no easy matter to fix 
our exact position, especially as the profile view on the 
Admiralty chart is very small and indistinct. Through a 
lift in the mist we catch a glimpse of a beacon on a low 
rocky point, slightly to the eastward, then the mist falls, 
and we steam ahead, assured of our position. Once more 


the mist rises, and we see Stanley lighthouse on Cape 
164 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 165 


Pembroke, the most easterly point of the Falkland 
Islands. 

The appearance of the coast was, to us, very homely, 
and reminded us of the Shetlands, or the shores of Mull 
or Jura. The hills were, perhaps, a little lower and 
sharper. They rose inland from wide sweeps of dun- 
coloured grass, and brown moorland. This moorland 
met the beach in white sand-dunes and low stretches of 
black rock. 


IL, 
‘SS Ly. 
os 


Ao bile 


Here is a small map of Port William roadstead. The 
harbour of Port Stanley opens off the south side of 
the roadstead. The entrance to the harbour, called 
the Narrows, is about three hundred yards wide, and 
the channel is marked five and a half fathoms. | Port 
William can be entered in any weather, and the pre- 


vailing wind, which blows across the Narrows, is a fair 


166 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


wind for a vessel entering the harbour. Once into Port 
Stanley harbour, blow high or low, a ship can lie as 
snug as in Dundee dry dock. The bottom is soft green 
mud. 

There was no pilot beating about, so we did without 
one, and trusted to the chart. Whalers are accustomed 
to do without charts or pilots, and pick up rocks and 
shoals by running on to them, usually coming off without 
much harm done, except, perhaps, to the rocks. But 
our great iron merchantmen, which a tap on a rock 
sends to the bottom, must be prevented calling here, when 
they would otherwise do so, by the want of proper pilot- 
age. Yet these islands were occupied by Britain with 
the ostensible reason of making them of use as places of 
call for our merchantmen. I am told that, at the time 
when there were two companies on the islands, the 
pilotage was all that could be wished, owing to the 
competition ; vessels were then seen in plenty of time, 
and were sure to find proper pilotage whenever they 
made the islands. 

On entering the Narrows we thought that a pilot would 
surely appear, for our masts could be seen from the har- 
bour over the low land on either side, and the intended 
visit of the whalers must long have been expected. But 
no sign of pilot or pilot’s boat appeared. 

As we turned the bend in the Narrows, the houses of 
Stanley and the vessels in the harbour came into view, and 
we eagerly scanned the latter to see if any of the Dundee 
whalers had arrived before us; but no patent reefing yards 


appeared ; only the regular merchantmen’s tall masts and 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 167 


double topsails, that dwarf our little sticks to the size of 
matches. Almost all the vessels we could see had suffered 
from the Horn weather. But what interested me more 
than anything else was the strange bird-life round us ; 
hundreds of divers and ducks scurried over the dull green 
water, splashing and diving—waiting at times till we were 
nearly on the top of them before they moved away. 
Gulls and petrels flew from the shores and circled round 
our masts—strange, unfamiliar, silent birds, with a quaint, 
old-world look and odd colours, as if they had been 
designed for a pantomime, or had just flown out of a 
Noah’s Ark. Some of them were the gigantic petrel, I 
think—big, clumsy birds, nearly as large as albatross, with 
coarse feathers of a raw chocolate colour, and big, yellowish 
beaks; some of these birds were almost entirely white. 
Some of the gulls were like our black-backed gulls, with a 
band of red on their yellow beaks. There were also 
molly mauks, and a pretty gull of a French grey colour, 
with black wing-covers with white edges, and brilliant 
red beak and legs. Besides the petrel and gulls there 
were many kinds of divers and ducks, white-breasted 
shags, and several varieties of penguins. The last only 
showed their heads above water, as our cormorants some- 
times do at home. Sometimes schools of them leapt 
clean out of the water, making black-and-white half 
circles in the air, popping in again with hardly a splash. 
Such an island is a naturalist’s paradise; and already I 
begin to regret that we shall have so little time to 
stay here. 

As we entered the loch we saw that the ships lying at 


168 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


anchor were almost all old hulks or dismantled vessels. 
Three or four seemed still to be of this ocean life, but they 
were sadly the worse of weather; one had her foremast 
gone, and her bulwarks smashed, another was having new 
yards hauled aloft. A pretty white schooner we passed 
alongside showed only the two stumps of her masts and 
looked damaged about the hull. All told of storm and 
gale and narrow escape,—the dismal side of sea life. 


Stanley lay opposite us on the south side of the loch, 


some eighty small white wooden houses with corrugated 
iron roofs, scattered along a low hill-side that rose behind 


the town some 4oo feet. But for the want of trees, 


1 The Foam. Registered from Waterford in 1862; 65 tons, owned by 
Lord Dufferin. She was once within 100 miles of being as far north as any 
sailing vessel of her time (see Lefters from High Latitudes, by Lord Dufferin), 
has since been owned by the Falkland Island Government, went on a reef 
in S.W. gale, May 1890. egzdescat in pace. 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 169 


its general appearance resembled that of a Norwegian 
town. 

Along the beach we could see several larger buildings, 
the most conspicuous being a Gothic church of grey stone, 
the corners of red freestone, and the spire still unfinished ; 
to the left of that was a long, low, white house, marked in 
very large letters Falkland Island Company, and near 
that again a large shed with convex iron roof, that we 
found was the Company’s forge. 

It would be hard to express the feeling of perfect con- 
tentment and rest that came over us as we lay in this 
sheltered loch waiting to drop our anchor, ‘The peat 
smoke blowing off shore on the keen south wind gave us 
a pleasant feeling of home-coming, rather than of visiting 
a distant colony. We had to wait about an hour before 
any one came off to show us our berth. At last, after 
much blowing on our fog-horn, we saw a man come 
down the shore, get into a dingy and row off to us with 
great vigour. This was the pilot—I may here say to 
those unfamiliar with the ways of the sea, that this is not 
the usual way of picking up a pilot! When on board he 
explained why all the flags were hoisted in Stanley, and 
the reason was so flattering to our vanity, that it was put 
down as against his slowness in coming off. The people 
had taken us for one of her Majesty’s ships of war,—our 
buff funnel had misled them. We felt extremely com- 
plimented, but could not but feel that distance in these 
parts must have a peculiarly enchanting effect. The 
pilot had not been told of our arrival! And besides, he 


could not have breakfast on shore and pilot us into 


170 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


harbour at the same time. This we quite grasped, but 
failed to see why, after finding our own way into this 
natural harbour at our own risk, we should be obliged to 
give the pilot £7, 10s. for standing by while we dropped 
anchor. 

The anchor down, we procured two or three tumblers- 
ful of water and some Sunlight soap, and had a superb 
wash. Then we pulled on our least disreputable and mil- 
dewed finery, plying our pilot meanwhile with many 
questions about his country: ‘Can we get tobacco on 
shore ?—milk?—butter?’ all these we could get. ‘Whisky?’ 
‘Yes, wiskie too. He was a Sassenach, poor man, quite 
‘appy with wiskie without an h! ‘Price?’ Some- 
thing fabulous! beyond a Rothschild’s means. ‘Cigars?’ 
Alas! at ransom. Everything apparently cost three times 
the price charged at home, from a pound of tobacco at 
24s. to a main yard at 43000. However, it would have 
taken more heaped up sorrows than these to depress us, so 
we got into our finery and stepped on deck beaming with 
soap, sunburn, and anticipation. It was a queer turn out 
we made—a feeble attempt at respectability. The attempt 
that most nearly reached this standard was the master’s 
son James or Jim, as he is commonly called. He ap- 
peared in the garb of his profession of bank clerk—a 
costume that was really superb. How he managed to 
preserve an immaculate white stand-up collar and a bowler 
through these storms and troubles was what none of us 
could make out. But our doctor’s costume was a poem, 
a work of art full of suggestion of the Past, the Present, 


To-morrow, and the Future, both of the man and of the 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 171 


clothes. The morning-coat and the mildewed trousers 
recalled the Past—the days of yore when my friend was 
still a medical student : years and years ago it seems now, 
when I look back over these 7000 miles of ocean and 
these ninety days at sea. A piece of packthread-sewing 
in the nether garments was suggestive of the Lately, 
and the immediate future as well. But it was the 
ensemble of flowing mackintosh, vasculum, geological 
hammer, Jaeger snow-cap and shooting-boots, that sug- 
gested the present medicine-man of scientific tastes, and 
the Antarctic Pytheas of time to come. 

Now, to be fair, I should let the doctor sketch me; but 
he is scientific, and so might be realistic, and realism is 
so out of date nowadays. My own impression, received 
from two inches of bad looking-glass, was that my ap- 
pearance might have been described as seedy, or very 
seedy, and rather complex, this latter effect was produced 
by the many propertfes I had to encumber myself with. 
There were my gun and cartridges to shoot specimens for 
the Scientist, and a bag to carry them in, besides sketch- 
books, water-colours, and various other trifles. 

One of our whale-boats at the quarter was lowered, and 
the shore party got into it, and five minutes after were 
standing with solid stones and earth under heel, as 
happy as schoolboys on the first day of the holidays. 
Along the beach there were some five dilapidated 
hulks ; some of these were connected by gangways with 
the shore, and formed small piers. The hulk we landed 
at was once called the Swow Squall. She had en- 
countered the A/abama in her early days. The Ala- 


172 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


bama chased her into Stanley, and there she has stopped 
ever since. Why, my informant did not explain. 

There may be said to be no loafers in Stanley ; even the 
arrival of the first of the Dundee whaling expedition 
could only muster a crowd of some half dozen thin, sun- 
burnt boys. Amongst these there was one elderly person, 
a tall, clerical-looking gentleman, wearing a white straw 
hat. This we found was the Rev. Mr. H 
to Dundee after we had left, to try and get a berth on 


, who came 


board one of the four ships. Finding they had sailed, he 
had come on here by steamer to see if there were still 
a chance of finding a passage to the Antarctic. 

We then called at the office of the Falkland Island 
Company to see if there was any news of our companion 
vessels, We thought that since we had been so unlucky in 
our weather they might have got out before us; but greatly 
to our surprise and delight we found that we were the*first 
out. We heard word of the Diana‘; she started with us 
and followed us round Cape Wrath, but had to put into 
Queenstown for repairs. The Polar Star, that left Dundee 
the day after us, had not been heard of, and the Active 
had coaled at Madeira, so we expected to see her soon. 
A Norwegian barque, the /ason, that started from Norway 
at the same time as we did, with the intention of hunting 
the right whale in our company, had taken 200 tons of 
coal at Madeira, and was supposed to be steaming most 
of the way out, but since Madeira she had not been 
heard of. 

Mr. Baillon, the Falkland Island Company’s colonial 


agent, who gave us this information, received us in a very 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 173 


comfortable little office that looked out on the loch. He 
seemed more anxious about the Company’s coal ship, 
1o1 days overdue, than about the affairs of the Dundee 
whaler—naturally enough! The possibility of the Falk- 
land Islands becoming a whaling- or sealing- station can 
be no pleasant prospect to the Falkland Island Company. 
They at present have the trade of the islands in their 
hands, and cannot look forward with pleasure to Dundee 
whalers bringing settlers who will live independently 
of the Company and possibly compete with them in 
all branches of trade. To the Company’s shareholders 
such an Antarctic whaling-station would probably mean 
a loss, but in my opinion the poorer colonists would 
greatly benefit by the competition that would result. 

We would have taken coals here, but the price was £3 
a ton; yet shipping freights were so low when we left 
Dundee that we could have had coals sent from Dundee 
as ballast to some of the South American ports and 
picked it up at actually the same price it cost at the 
pit mouth. 

We next proceeded to the lodging where the Rev. Mr. 
H 


he had collected, likewise to enjoy a shore spread. . The 


was camping to see the natural history specimens 


doctor and I had made up our minds to go right off into 
the country the moment we landed, with gun and vasculum; 
but once in a comfortable room with pleasant company, 
fresh food, and usquebaugh, we found it hard tomove. Then 
we were hospitably entertained by the consul and his wife 
in a cosy little German drawing-room. How we did enjoy 


seeing new faces and listening to new voices! The feeling 


174 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


of soft carpet was quite a new sensation ; we luxuriated in 
cushioned chairs, lingered over bocks, and inhaled German 
cigars with delight. Even the obstructions customary in 
small drawing-rooms, things you trip over and knock 
down, had become a pleasure to us, and if our hosts could 
only know what intense gratification those creature com- 
forts gave to our souls they would feel they had not 
lived in vain. 

We were so blissfully contented at the consul’s that we 
almost forgot about Natural History, and only remembered 
the letters we had called for as we were going away. 
None of the pile we overhauled were for us. Most of 
them were addressed in lilac ink and feminine hands to 
the Jason’s crew. To Sigurdsons, Boernsons, and other 
high-sounding classic names—doubtless from fond Brun- 
hildas in Gammel Norge. 

We next went to the Company’s stores. All the Falk- 
land Island life gravitates there, and we did not attempt 
to resist the attraction, but went and bought all sorts of 
things and paid absurd prices for everything excepting 
for sketch-books, which were half the price they cost 
in London! I always did think artists’ colourmen laid 
it on. 

From the Company’s stores to the Company’s bar is 
but a step, and the invitation from some of our crew who 
were there was too pressing for either the doctor or 
myself to resist, even if we had tried. We found them 
getting rapidly mellow, making up against time for three 
months’ total abstinence. A very small amount of liquor 


seemed to affect them, owing, I suppose, to their meagre 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 175 


diet. But a jollier, finer set of men one could not wish to 
see—roughly clothed, tanned, tarred, and weather-beaten, 
—pulling together on board and on shore in a way that 
did one good to see, It was a great sight that bar— 
one of the pictures on the voyage that I shall not forget. 
The eager, jovial crowd of sailors filling the rough colonial 
bar, each with his glass in his fist and his pipe in the 
corner of his mouth, talking away freely for once of the 
events of the past three months. The few colonials 
were almost crowded out of their usual haunt, and looked 
on in silence, listening to those whalers from the North. 
Braidy, of the grey eyes and the fair hair, got hold of 
a melodeon and played jolly Irish tunes till some began 
dancing ; the second engineer gave us ‘Wacht am Rhein’ 
meanwhile, with tremendous force, and the rafters rang 
and the smoke trembled in the air with the din of the 
talk and the singing and the dancers’ boots on the floor. 
At last the doctor and I made our escape out of the 
smoke and the racket and went in pursuit of science. 
Some of the crew rowed us across the loch to the north 
side of the harbour, about a mile across, passing the 
Balzena on the way. 

The Rev. Mr. H ,not being a good walker, we rather 


unfeelingly left him on the beach picking mosses and 


lichens, and went ahead. Bruce dropped out next to chip 
off pieces of the grey quartzite rock that crops out through 
the peat, and to collect botanical specimens, while H,’s man, 
a Swede, and the writer, pelted over the low hills to the 
bay on the north of Port Stanley after wild-fowl. On the 


ridge we could see lots of ducks and geese feeding along 


176 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


the water edge. But they seemed too exposed to let us 
come near them, and we were in too great a hurry to try 
to circumvent them. Near the shore I picked up a couple 
of small birds of the lark family and one a little like our 
yellow bunting. I had No. 8 shot, so they were fit for 
specimens ; we placed them on a high stone and signalled 


to the doctor to pick them up, and pegged on, over 


rocks, peat, and bog. Just as we got within shot of the 


beach a heron of some kind got up and I straightway let 
drive, and the wretched beast fell out in the sea. It was 
an unfamiliar heron to me, of a brownish colour, with a 
very long yellow crest, with the ermine-like neck feathers 
of a yellow tint, a little like our night heron, and the only 
way to get it was to swim for it. My word, it was cold! 
and the sensation of swimming through the kelp with the 
heron in tow was anything but pleasant. The scientist 


now came up in great glee; he had been having a splendid 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 177 


guart @ heure revelling in strange mosses and lichens, and 
bent under enough specimens to start a museum ; besides, 
in one hand he carried a huge red handkerchief filled with 
stones, and in the other a bundle of shag’s corpses, all 
bones and feathers. We sat down on the heather and 
compared notes, and came to the conclusion that this 
country is good and fair to see, and very like dear old 
Scotland, and that Darwin must have written about it 
when he was suffering from one of his frequent attacks of 
sea-sickness. I forget what words the great naturalist 
used, but they were to the effect that the Falkland Islands 
were a howling wilderness, waste, wet, cold, inhospitable, 
and unfit for man or beast. We would have given a 
great deal just to pitch a tent where we were and stop 
for months. 

I have written heather, but it was not heather on which 
we reposed, but Lvupetrum rubrum, which is much the 
same at a distance, and is a sort of crowberry, and has 
little red fruit. It grows about eighteen or twenty inches 
high, and its roots are wide-spread and form half the peat 
on the islands. Diddle Dee is its local name. I have a 
list of the other plants of the islands—splendid names— 
Giamardia Australis, Bostkovia grandiflora, and the like, 
and I feel tempted to throw in a number here, but refrain. 
Neither does my companion approve of such inexpressive, 
unpopular names. Science is meant for all, not the few, 
he says, and we should call a spade a spade and not a 
bally shovel as the Bishop remarked. 

The next addition we made to our collection was an 


entirely black oyster-catcher, with the usual red sealing- 
M 


178 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 
—————— a eee LE 


wax bill and flesh-coloured legs, like a hen’s; then I shot 
two small waders, rather like our ring-dotterel—shot 
them running, I confess—did not even, like the knowing 
French chasseur and the pheasant, ‘vait till he did stop. 
But it was getting dark, and I could not have seen them 
flying unless against the sea. Crossing the hill, on our 
way back, we shot two curious little green birds of the 


linnet tribe ; they had stayed out late, and flew up against 


the light in the way of some No. 8 shot. One more item 


made up our mixed bag. Just as we got to the north 
shore of Port Stanley, and were stumbling over the stones 
and peat-hags along the shore, there was a great flapper- 
flapper-splash-splash, and a big goose, as I thought, 
went scurrying out of the bank. Bang went my left with 
No, 8, and it fell in its feathers. This turned out to be 
one of the most curious ducks one could well set eyes on. 
I should think he must have weighed twelve or thirteen 


pounds, perhaps more. Its head was the colour of a 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 179 


widgeon, and very large and strong, as also were its 
yellow-webbed feet, but its wings were small as a flapper’s, 
and not large enough to lift it off the water, so its only 
means of progression was to flap along the surface, 
splashing with its wings and feet. The feathers were 
hard and short, of a granite grey on the back, changing to 
a marble yellow on the breast. This duck makes such a 
noise and spluttering going over the water that it .has 
been called the steamer-duck, or sometimes the logger- 
head, from its large, heavy head. 

On the beach we found the Rev. Mr. H 


waiting for us. The Balzena lay opposite, in the middle of 


patiently 


the harbour, her topmasts and yards black against the red 
evening sky, her hull and lower rigging lost and blended 
into the dark hill-side beyond. A light or two peeped 
out from the Stanley houses, the water was smooth as 
silver, and the air full of the sweet smell of burning peat. 
We felt as if we were standing on the shores of some sea 
loch in our Western Highlands, 

We raided the pantry when we got on board,—now it is 
really worth raiding—and made a spread of fresh mutton 
and fruit pies on the doctor’s chest. That meal of fresh 
food formed an episode in our lives. I think we were tired 
as Londoners after a Twelfth. The three months on board 
ship had put us completely out of training, but there was 
to be no rest. Some people in the cabin, and a company 
from the neighbouring ships the /yderabad and the Old 


Kensington, that the mate was entertaining in his abode, 


1 The Old Kensington had been here since the previous May getting 
damages repaired. She had been generally smashed up coming round the 


180 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


were going ashore to visit the foreman of the Company’s 
forge, with whom the Rev. Mr. H—— was lodging, and we 
had to join this party, sleepy and tired as we were, and 
had to take the pipes too. The whale-boat was pretty 
well loaded when we were all aboard. The piper was put 
in the bow, and had to play all he knew. We rowed round 
the two neighbouring ships, both here to repair damage 
received from Cape Horn weather, and great was the 
excitement. The crew of the Hyderabad stood on the 
anchor-deck, silhouetted against the primrose evening sky, 
and each asked for his favourite tune: ‘ Please will she play 
piobrach “ Dhoal Dhubh,”’ a north country man would ask, 
and ‘ Hi, mon, gie’s the “ Glenda Ruil Hielanders,”’ would 
shout one frae Glasgie. She was a Glasgow ship un- 
doubtedly, so I played pibroch laments and marches till 
my cheeks ached, for the pipes were ‘stiff, and then we 
played ashore and landed, and played up the road in the 
dark to the house of Chaplin, the master of the forge. 
Chaplin hailed from Dunkeld, and was greatly stirred in 
spirit when he heard his native music. Asa lad he had 
served as smith on a Dundee whaler in the Arctic, now 
he is foreman of the Company’s engineering shop here, 
with a dozen men under him; a tall, clean-limbed man, 
with small head and long arms, the picture of an athlete, 
the best in the colony at throwing the hammer, and 


running the mile. . . . What a glorious evening we had! 


Horn—foremast and some yards gone, and bulwarks damaged. Still from 
May 28 to November is a long time to take to refit, and the skipper expected 
to have to stay several months longer. The bill to pay the Company was 
something astonishing. 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 181 


Burns was in the chair, and the English clergyman and 
Peter White, cook of the Balzna, were croupiers.... 
It was after midnight, not to be too accurate, when we 
turned in. On the way to the beds the Chaplins had 
provided for us, we looked stealthily into a half lamp-lit 
room, and saw a glimpse of the child life of the island. 
Asleep in a row, on the same bed on the floor, their heads 
resting softly on the same pillow, bathed in rosy sleep, 
four little golden-haired angels lay, with rosy lips and 
dark eyelashes closed on warm cheeks,—sound asleep,— 
‘full of sweet dreams and health and quiet breathing.’ 
They had been turned out of their own beds to make 
room for us seafarers. 

In the morning the four fair-haired ones would have 
me pipe to them endless tunes. They made a pretty 
audience ; the eighteen-month cherub sat half-dressed in 
his small sister’s arms, with a blue-eyed fairy on each side. 
With what rapt attention they listened to the tunes of the 
olden times! It is strange how Highland children love 
the pipes. I have seen a small child when it heard the 
pipes stop crying and forget all the pains of teething, and 
listen motionless with wide eyes till it dropped asleep ; 
an English child would have run to its mother’s arms 
crying. Is it not strange, this hereditary ‘association of 
ideas’? I wonder what vague associations are stirred 
in the child’s mind by our ancient tunes. Does the 
new memory go back to the old past, and listen again 
to the piping on the galley of Pytheas as he came 
sailing up the firth on his Government’s Scientific Ex- 


pedition, or does it see the people stringing across the 


182 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


wet sands of the Red Sea and hear again the clear notes 
of Gilla Callum ?? 

Chaplin’s house is typical of all the other Stanley 
houses. It is built with horizontal boards (clinker-built, 
if I may apply the term to a house), with a red brick 
foundation, the roof of grey slate—most of the other 
houses have corrugated iron roofs—with five small win- 
dows, with brightly-coloured sashes and a glass porch in 
the middle of the front. In this there are geraniums 
and roses ; only few flowers grow out of doors on account 
of the strong winds, so the colonists make up for this 
by cultivating them indoors. 

Of the interior of the houses there is little to be said ; 
all the furnishings are machine-made, mostly sent from 
Britain, that grand factory of cheap, ugly things. Alas and 
.alack-a-day, when will taste drive our machinery, and the 
capabilities of a machine cease to be the limit of our taste ? 

After breakfast we were requested to play our land- 
lord down to the forge. We played the ‘ Perthshire High- 
landers’ through the potato patch in great style. The 
forge is a large corrugated iron shed, about 150 feet long, 
at the foot of the garden. There were about a dozen big 
sinewy men working at some heavy iron work for a dis- 
masted vessel that lay opposite in the loch. The steam- 
hammer was pounding away, and the sparks were flying. 
The pipes ringing in the vaulted iron roof and the 


clanging of the anvil made a most infernal din. 


1 Tradition says that Gilla Callum was the tune Moses asked his piper to 
play on this occasion. It is a tune well adapted for those who would walk 
hastily. 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 183 


One of the Scotsmen there had been on the island since 
the old days—thirty years ago is about the time of the 
old days here ; then there was no Government to speak of , 
and cattle and Spaniards went wild. He had had lively 
times, and varied sport. But now the wild cattle are almost 
killed out, and the Spaniards are few and tame. 

.. « There are trout in the streams of the islands. He 
described a stream that made me long to be off to fish it : 


The Proprietor of ‘ The First and Last’ Bar plays us tunes of many Nations. 


a stream of pools and rapids running amongst rocks and 
peat banks, and full of trout. Unfortunately it was a day’s 
ride out into the ‘Camp, as the interior of the island is 
called, so I could not have started with less than three 
days before me, and we were told the Baleena might leave 
any moment. My informant described the trout as 
striped trout, like mackerel, very plentiful and easy to 
catch, raw meat apparently being the best bait. From 


184 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


the hand-and-forearm measurement used, I should judge 
them to run from a quarter to two pounds weight! As 
we talked of these things fishy, there came one running 
who told us there was yet another whaling ship; and we 
went forth, and lo, as he said, there was another—at least 
we could see the spars of a ship that looked like a 
whaler appearing opposite us over the low land on 
either side of the narrow entrance to the loch. As we 
looked a whale-boat came rowing through the Narrows. 
In it was Captain Robertson of the Active. They had 
also come in without a pilot but had dropped their anchor 
in the roadstead. They had made the passage in ninety 
days some odd hours, a trifle less than the time we had 
taken—two record passages for slowness, I should think. 
But they had suffered more than we had off the Irish coast. 
They lost two boats and their mizzen topmast and had 
the galley smashed up with a heavy sea. What we envied 
them for was that they had called at Madeira for coals, 
and had surfeited on fruit, and at sea they caught a turtle 
that kept them in fresh meat for weeks. 

Dr. Donald, whom Bruce and I had last seen at Uni- 
versity Hall, Edinburgh, was in the boat, so we held a 
great palaver. We then went to pay our respects at 
Government House. I think His Excellency Sir Roger 
Tuckworth Goldsworthy must have been rather appalled 


when he saw the eighteen feet five inches of piratical- 


1 These trout do not belong to the true Sa/monddae, but to an allied family, 
the Haplochitonidae, which in the south represents the trout of the northern 
hemisphere. See Captain J. Cumming Dewar’s interesting account of the 
voyage of his yacht the Nyanza. 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 185 


looking whalers coming down on him just before lunch- 
time. 

Government House is towards the west end of the bay. 
It is built of wood, yet without any of the flimsiness one 
associates with wooden buildings, but solid and sub- 
stantial and suggestive of interior comforts. It was the 
hospitality and comfort inside that went straight to our 


hearts. The low, harmonious colouring, the narrow 


square-paned windows, and the wide hearths with ruddy 


peat fires reminded me of the interior of a Burgomeister’s 
house in the Netherlands; and the view from the win- 
dows looking up the bay to the west recalled Kilchoan 
in Ardnamurchan and the view looking up the road to 
Benhiant and Loch Meudal. 

Before we left we were shown through the garden, and 
were astonished, after the accounts we had read of the 


186 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


poverty of the soil, to find all the usual garden vegetables, 
as far as I can judge, in a flourishing state. Strawberries 
were in full blossom. There was spinach, lettuce, pease, 
potatoes, and many other green things; and under glass 
were marrows, cucumbers, and tomatoes. Round the 
outside of the garden there was a splendid yellow blow of 
furze that filled the whole air with perfume. I noticed a 
bird in the gooseberries somewhat resembling our thrush 
in colour and movements, with a red waxy bill. Lady 
Goldsworthy told me afterwards that these birds sing 
beautifully, and that this one in particular was a favourite 
of hers. Providentially, we did not shoot! When we 
went on a scientific whaling expedition we left all sporting 
instincts behind us, and are really unfit for civilisation 
now, which is proved by the following event. Just as we 
were saying good-bye to His Excellency, an upland 
goose came down feet first on the field in front of the 
house, looked round, and up at the British flag that was 
flying close by, and then began to eat the short grass. 
Here was a chance, we thought. This goose evidently 
longed for immortality and a glass case, so we asked His 
Excellency’s sanction and proceeded to secure it. Our 
doctor had never fired a shot in grim earnest, so I gave 
him my gun with a couple of No. 3’s. He grasped it 
with the nervous tension of a first shot, and I knew the 
goose was doomed, 

We advised him to circumvent the goose by following 
a path that crossed the field, and to walk just like a 
harmless botanist with the gun hidden down his right 
side, and then to wheel to his left when a little beyond the 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 187 


goose. Of course a wild goose at home would have seen 
through this stratagem at three miles off, almost before 
it was conceived—any one who has had dealings with 
them will bear me out in this; but the Falkland Islands 
geese are—seese ! 

The doctor followed the path as we advised with a 
jaunty, careless step, looking in front with a smile that 
was pensive and childlike, then suddenly wheeled to the 
left, brought the gun to the present, and advanced rapidly 
with long strides and flying coat-tails. 

The goose looked round, but showed no fear; it was 
beguiled, no doubt, by the doctor’s scientific get-up of 
satchel and hammer and vasculum. Nearer and nearer 
the doctor approached, the strides growing longer and 
faster. At thirty yards the goose looked round and saw 
the two black muzzles of the twelve bore and the doctor's 
eye gleaming above them, and there was something about 
the expression it did not like, so it began to put one 
yellow leg before the other, walking away in the manner 
peculiar to geese, looking behind it at the same time to 
see our friend. Then it stumbled and picked itself up 
and our doctor gained some yards. The British flag was 
now fluttering directly above the goose, and to this 
emblem of freedom the goose raised a pathetic eye, and 
as it did so the doctor pressed the trigger—both triggers, 
rather—and there was a fearful explosion! 

...Acloud of feathers floated in the smoke-laden air, 
and the goose lay a soft white heap on the grass. 

I never shall forget the expression of boyish happiness 
‘on B.’s face as he came up smiling with what remained of 


188 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


his first shot. In the house Lady Goldsworthy heard the 
discharge and came out, and Bruce waved the shattered 
remains. ... It was our hostess’s own favourite wild 
Loose. 

.... We went away in a very dejected condition. 
Bruce towed the beast for some time; then we hid it in 
a peat bog, and when we stole back for it in the evening, 
laden with real wild-fowl, it was gone! 

Our next proceeding was to go along the coast to try 
for wild-fowl. We had not to go very far before we 
spotted a flight of about twenty duck feeding in shallow 
water near the shore; these we decided to circumvent, 
trusting that their insular stupidity would serve us in 
better stead than the ground, which was nearly level and 
unsuited for stalking. As we came in sight the ducks 
cleared out into the open water, and when we sat down 
they came to the shore again. This, to me, was a 
charming exhibition of faith in a duck that I had not 
looked to see, and we advanced with confidence till within 
about four hundred yards, when the ducks decided it best 
to keep in deep water till we showed our colours. Then we 
executed a manceuvre that has been resorted to in cases 
of extreme emergency with our wild-fowl at home; but 
with them it requires almost superhuman patience. 

The doctor sat down and I began to approach them in 
a serpentine manner, shoving my gun along in front of 
me, following after it at full length on my face through 
the heather, but always in sight of the ducks. If you do 
this slowly enough, leaving something, a cap or bag at 


your starting-point to divide the ducks’ interest, the effect 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 189 


is sometimes surprising, always so if the ground is peaty 
and you have light clothes. When I got the length of 
the stony beach and became too evident, the ducks cleared 
off. Then I waved my legs from behind a stone, and 
with the corner of my eye saw them swimming nearer. 
Again I wriggled ten yards nearer, with my heart 
pumping as if there was a Royal within fifty yards, and 
waved my legs from behind another stone. The ducks 
had gone a long way off this time, but the queer fish on 
the beach was altogether too new and interesting, and 
they slowly sailed back to between thirty-five or forty 
yards, Then I jumped up and ran in ten yards or so, and 
let drive right and left as they rose, and brought down five. 

Bruce had agreed to go in for any I might kill, as I had 
risked my life for Science the day before. I did not envy 
him stumbling over the stony bottom waist deep in the 
cold water, with showers of sleet making dressing un- 
comfortable. We got four of the five; the fifth drifted 
out of reach. They were huge ducks, in first-rate con- 
dition for eating, and made splendid scouse,—so the crew 
said afterwards. 

There is such a quantity of fish, wild-fowl, and rabbits 
about these islands that all a man needs to live well is a 
boat, a net, and a gun; but a mere punt costs 415, and 
a seine net that would cost 30s. at home would cost 
£4 or £5 here. With a good seine or trammel one could 
catch a ton of fish in the two tides in front of Stanley ; 
and in the season the wild geese are very plentiful and 
even more tame than the Governor’s goose. 


The people are so dependent on the Company and they 


190 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


have got so much into the way of finding all their wants 
supplied at the Company’s stores that they do little to 
supply themselves. I met one man who was making an 
effort to live independently, and I believe with a certain 
amount of success. As an instance of the unthriftiness 
of the people in this way, this man could sell a plucked 
goose for Is. 6d., and a goose with its feathers on for Is. ; 
with the feathers he could fill a mattress in a week and 
sell it for £1 or more. Almost all the people’s supplies 
are bought from the Company. They have nothing but 
tin milk and imported butter as far as I could see, when 
there is no reason against their having their own cows but 
that the land immediately round the township is the Com- 
pany’s land; at least this was the reason given me by the 
people I met. 

By evening we had quite a collection of strange birds. 
As I had some small shot the smaller skins were quite 
suited for preserving. It was late when we returned to 
Stanley, and the lights in the cottages were all out; 
only in two or three of the taverns were there signs 
of life. In one of these I found five of the young 
fellows of our crew getting very festive, and with some 


difficulty managed to get them off to the ship, while the 


, 


doctor went on to call at the Rev. Mr. H s. As we 
pulled across the loch in the moonlight it was agreed 
not to talk or make a row as we came alongside the 
ship, so as not to disturb the sleepers on board; but 
the first thing our jolly tars did was to run full tilt into 
the Balzna’s counter. ‘Bow’ hit ‘Two’ on the head with 


the butt of his oar; ‘Two’ swore; ‘Three’ told him to 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 191 


shut up; ‘Four’ chipped in, and I thought the whole 
ship’s company would turn out to see what the racket 
was about; but old 
Bonnar was the 
only man we found 
on deck when we 
climbed through the 
chains. The lads 
toddled away to their 
bunks, and old B.and 
I smoked and spun 


yarns, and the boat 


swung astern by her 


One of 
the Boys. 


painter. 

Early next morn- 
ing we were ashore again to see the Governor's trammel 
net overhauled before breakfast. There were only a few fish 
in, and they resembled mullet, and are very good to eat, in 
taste rather like cod, but softer, and not so white. Those 
we caught on this occasion were about one pound weight, but 
we afterwards saw great quantities caught in a net, averag- 
ing I should think, five or six pounds. These the fisherman 
told us could be caught in enormous quantities round the 
coast. He told us of a loch which is dry at low tide, where, 
if a net is set across the mouth, there are such heaps of 
these mullet left on the sand at low water that a schooner 
might twice fill her hold in the day with them. But only 
the one man makes an industry of the fishing. 

It would possibly make a profitable industry to take 
these fish and cure them and send them to the South 


192 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


American markets, where there are many Roman Catholics. 
The fish cure well, though not quite so well as cod, for 
they absorb rather more salt. 

We had still some time before breakfast to collect 
natural history specimens, so I went up the loch in the 
punt, whilst Bruce naturalised generally along the shore. 
In about two hours I had five different kinds of birds: 
Loggerhead, Black-back, King Shags, large reddish-brown 
Gulls, with spotted legs and deep wings, and Grey Gulls. 

Life, it is said, is made up of small things. Breakfast at 
Government House was not one of these. Lady Golds- 
worthy had prepared us a Scotch breakfast suited to 
men doing twenty miles a day for ten brace, or fresh from 
the rolling forties. We attacked it like savages, and 
appreciated details like epicures. The pleasant society, 
the warmth and comfort, and the large rooms with the 
faint perfume of peat and oat-cake were in delightful con- 
trast to our late life. There must be many who recall 
similar pleasant memories of this kindly oasis on the 
lonely islands of the stormy South Atlantic. 

The solitude of these islands is prettily expressed by 
the name the Spaniards gave them—the Malvinas. Mal- 
vina is a lonely, sad heroine in Celtic poetry, the widow 
of Oscar, Ossian’s son. To her in his old age Ossian 
sings his songs. I read, and I am told positively, that the 
Spaniards who took the islands forcibly from the French 
called them ‘Malvinas’ because the first French settlers 
who came there were supposed to have come from St. 
Malo. Is this probable? Is it not much more likely 
that the Spaniards, instead of coining Malvina from St. 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 193 


Malo, used the name ‘Malvina, that had existed long 
before the Maloese or any one else had ever heard of 
the islands—a name which is, besides, a Spanish name? 
Malvina was a Spanish princess, so our ancient poems tell 
us. I do not here refer to Ossian’s poems. Of course every 
one knows they are unreliable—a fat Cockney said so! At 
any rate [ intend to believe my own derivation of the name 
till some one gives me another that I like better... . 

After partaking of the Governor’s hospitality we visited 
the Lord Chief-Justice—a genial Scot, who had served his 
time in our Parliament House. With him we enjoyed 
the feast of shells and drank the golden streams of Islay 
and Jura and Skye, and met Government and Company 
employees in the afternoon. Afterwards we met a sociable 
sheep farmer with whom we had forgathered the pre- 
vious night ina bar. He took us to see some nests—they 
were much like the skylark’s;—and he also showed us 
molly mauks’ and penguins’ eggs; and in the evening he 
took us to his house and entertained us hospitably. 

The room he showed us into was a large farm kitchen, 
with plenty of firelight and deep shadows, built when 
the Falklands were still a young colony, and British 
manufactures were hard to get. His old mother, a 
dark-haired, black-eyed Celt, was serving a tall, fair- 
haired son with tea when we came in, and we were 
asked to sit down by the lamp-lit table and fall-to. 
It was a typical colonial station meal, splendid mutton, 
home-made bread, milk, and lashins of tea, and we 
enjoyed it thoroughly, although we are aware tea and 
meat is slow poison. Undoubtedly the people in this 

N 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 195 


colony are rapidly destroying their physique by their 
excess in this drink. Aggravated cases of indigestion are 
the most common complaints, Children and men show 
the effect of it in body and face. 

Our old hostess had left Ireland when she was a mere 
child, but her accent was as soft and rich and as sweet to 
listen to as the sound of running water. She must have 
been eighty years old, at least, and seemed as active as a 
girl, and her memory, too, was clear. Much she spoke of 
the days when she first came to the islands with her 
German husband from Buenos Ayres. That was forty 
years ago. I would like to have remembered all the 
things she told me; but I was too much taken up with the 
interest of her face and the feeling of the light from the 
peat-fire glinting on the dark rafters to remember details 
of past events. One thing she was sure of, and all the 
other old colonists I met were decidedly of the same 
opinion, and that was that the climate here has steadily 
improved during the last twenty years or so. 

These people had kept a bar before the Company 
absorbed that business, and in the far corner of the room 
was a recess with an ancient counter of dark, worn 
wood now used for dishes. Behind, in the shadow of the 
recess, hung old pewter measures, dusty and disused, dimly 
reflecting rays from the lamp, relics of the days when they 
clinked accompaniments to Spanish Fandangos or rattled 
encores to jolly Jack’s sea-song. Round the room, against 
the simple plaster walls, hung pictures of the Saints in 
black frames—a pleasant tie in this new country to the 


old stories of our northern lands. 


196 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


The sons were tall men—rather wiry than muscular ; 


they liked the life, and wisely desired no change; they 


had been born and brought up on the islands, and, with 
the exception of short visits to the Brazilian coast, had 
seen no other land; yet they were quick and clever, and 
took interest in the affairs of the world abroad. Their 
voices were quiet, perhaps a little weak ; but the accent was 
very pleasant and soft, a little like that of Inverness,—a 
blending of Irish and Spanish, with a faint colonial twang. 

In their garden they showed us a flourishing potato 
crop and some gooseberry bushes with the fruit forming, 
and as a proof of the mildness of the climate they pointed 
out an apple tree five feet high on which six or seven 
blossoms were trying to blow. 

The climate of the islands must not however be con- 


demned because fruit-trees do not flourish and barley does. 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 197 


not ripen, though the islands lie the same distance south 
of the equator that London does north. It is the absence 
of any continued heat and sunshine that prevents fruit 
ripening. In the two hottest months of the year, December 
and January, the average temperature is only 47°, varying 
from 40° to 65°, but in the two mid-winter months the tem- 
perature only varies from 30° to 50°, with an average of 37°. 

Rain falls two hundred 
days in the year, but it only 
amounts to twenty inches, 
and the air is dry and in- 
vigorating, owing to the con- 
stant winds. The prevalent 
wind is southerly or sou’- 
westerly —the wind that 
brings our merchantmen 
home from the colonies 
round Cape Horn, and sends 
them bowling along the 
forties on their outward 
voyage round the Cape of 
Good Hope. 

This may possibly be like one of the natives of the 
islands. It was just a glimpse of her I saw as she passed 


out of a store—marketing, I think. 

And the following is another jotting of a Falkland 
Islander. Bruce and I met him on board a schooner that 
arrived in Stanley from ‘The Coast,’ as the Islanders call 
the east coast of South America. The schooner had come 


across with horses on board, and open hatches! This man 


198 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


Hantz was the first-class passenger. He left the Falklands 
some years ago, and went gold-digging on Sandy Point. 
The gold-digging there is for alluvial gold. The diggers 
club together, get a boat, a tent, and provisions, land on 
a likely beach, and grub away. This man had made what 
for him was quite a little pile; he showed us some of the 
gold—brought it out of his pocket in a piece of cloth 
tied up with string. It was in little flakes about the size 
of linseed. He described the life to us as we drank 
beer at the Companies’ bar, described it vividly, the-hun- 
gering, and the cold, and excitement. 

I drew him as he was describing a find. Words failed 
him to express the excitement, ‘God damn—when you’re 
turning it up two inches deep!’ was all he could get out ; 
but his face expressed the fun of the thing. 


CAYR TER, Ely 


eh pia 11th Dec—Leave the Falklands. We blew 

our fog-horn continuously, but no pilot answered 
our signal. So we sat down to breakfast, and after 
we had done the pilot appeared. He had been hunting 
for a boat to take him off! Who ever heard of a 
pilot hunting for his boat? He had not far to take 
us—only about one thousand yards through the Nar- 
rows; but he took our letters ashore, so he was of 
some use. 

As we steamed out of the Narrows and turned to our 
right, up Port William, we passed the Active at anchor, and 
our men gave her three cheers and three cheers more, and 
the Active’s crew climbed into their shrouds and answered 
with much feeling, I felt sorry for the poor crew of the 
C——B 
trickling down her grey sides and white ports, and all her 


, a Glasgow ship, lying all dishevelled, the rust 


gear adrift. Her crew were all down with that hideous 
disease scurvy. They must have turned very sadly in their 
bunks as they heard the full-throated shouting as we passed 
and left them in the solitude of that lonely loch. Poor 
fellows! they were dying one by one: the accounts we heard 
of their sufferings were most distressing. Yet there are 
those who would not have men unite to protect themselves 


from such awful ills, who would have men and boys, with 
199 


200 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


their women and families, still dependent on the sweet 
wills of even humane owners and masters. 

As we steamed round the westerly point of Port William, 
to the south, past the lighthouse, the Active got under 
weigh and followed us. Then we set all sail, and once 
more started for the south for the country where, as Jack 


has it :— 
‘There’s ice and there’s snow, 
And the stormy winds do blow, 
And the daylight’s never done, brave boys.’ 


Wednesday, 14th Dec—We have spent many good 
hours in these last days reading newspapers that are 
dated up to the end of last October, and feel in no way 
the better for it. The Lord be praised we are free of 
social interests for a time at least, and a newspaper is 
only valuable as paper. B. is occupied in his berth 
skinning birds, pressing flowers, and arranging innumer- 
able specimens. I have an idea that he walks the deck 
all night ; if he doesn’t, he must sleep on the top of his 
bird-skins and rocks. 

Mr, Adams shot a molly mauk to-day. It was flying 
alongside to windward, and it fell into our waist. It isa 
very handsome bird, of much more grace and beauty of 
form than the uncouth albatross. 


... Lhursday.—Course again S.E.; wind S.W. to S.; 
a hot sun and a thin mist coming up with the wind. 

Nineteen white, soft, Swedish steel harpoons are laid out 
in the sunlight on the poop. Each harpoon is about four 
feet long, and each has Balana engraved on the steel, to 


let all know who meet a whale north or south with such 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 201 


a harpoon in its back that it has known its namesake at 
one time. 

The harpooneers are busy splicing foregoes to the ring 
that travels on the shaft of the harpoon. The forego is a 
length of six fathoms of soft, pliable, two-inch rope, so 
pliable that it offers no resistance when the harpoon is 
shot out of the gun at the whale. To the inner end of 
the forego the whale line is spliced. The whale line is 
one hundred and twenty fathoms of two-inch rope (two- 
inches in circumference), and each boat has three of 
' these ready to splice together as they run out. But more 
of these technicalities when the whales turn up. 

We have not come away empty-handed from the Falk- 
lands. Mutton there cost 24d. a lb., so we have a supply 
of fresh meat for the cabin which is very welcome. There 
are legs of beef hanging at the mizzentop and clusters of ° 
sheep at the quarter-boat davits, enough to keep the cabin 
at least in fresh food for some time; besides, we have some 
fresh vegetables which His Excellency the Governor of 
the islands gave to us out of his own garden, Without 
these we should have had to do without vegetables, as 
the people had none for sale—evidently an enterprising 
gardener would do well there! The ships that call would 
take a considerable supply, and as most of the colonists— 
there are six hundred and ninety in Port Stanley alone 
—are busily engaged with other occupations, there would 
be enough sale amongst them and the farms in the Camp 
to make things pay well. 

Three of our men left us at the Falklands without any 
formality. They said they couldn’t stand the food ; but I 


202 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


expect they had plans of bettering their fortune. Certainly 
if I had been quite in their position I would have left too. 
They were seized by Government and treated to half a 
day’s imprisonment, with fresh food. How they must have 
enjoyed the change! One was a sailor and bird-stuffer, 
and another was a tall, smart young fellow, a rigger by 
trade. He was the most awful swearer I ever heard, 
sO we were somewhat surprised afterwards to hear from 
the Diana that he had got a berth on a Missionary 
schooner, and was off to convert the Fuegians. I think 
he is rather missed on board, not for his swearing, but in 
other ways he was well liked, and even one man leaving 
a ship’s company makes a noticeable gap. The third 
was a young man of apparently not less than thirty 
summers,—a first-class sparrer. His mother brought him 
on board at Dundee with a tearful request to our mate 
. totake care of her dear son, The mate is about two 
years his junior. Probably he is now taking care of 
simple sheep out in the Camp at 41, Ios. a week, which 
is better any day than serving either before or aft the 
main-mast. 

This evening Mason’s head popped into my bunk when 
I was dabbling in water-colours, getting on a touch at 
each roll. ‘There’s some doos fleein’ aboot the fore-mast, 
he said, ‘get yer gun, sir, and co’wae forrart.’ I was 
prepared for any sort of bird, as we were getting into 
strange waters. Some time ago I was seriously informed 
that a cuckoo was flying over our stern, yet I hardly 
expected to see doos; but I went forward, and fairly 


gasped with astonishment, for there were four pretty white 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 203 


birds, exactly like fantails, fluttering above our fore-mast. 
They flew about the mast-head for a little, as if they 
were going to light, then dropped into the sea, where 
they floated as land birds do when they fall into water, 
with their wings spread out and partly submerged, then 
they rose and fluttered round us again and went away. 
They did not come far enough to windward, so I had not 
a good chance of bringing one down. I suppose they 
must have been Chionis, sheathbills, but I never heard 
that sheathbills could swim. 


Friday, 16th Dec.—At8 A.M. this morning the thermometer 
was at 35°, so I take it we are getting nearice. There is 
a heavy mist, and when it lifts we see thousands of sea 
birds on the waves. Molly mauks are flying around us, and 
we hear whales blowing in the mist. This afternoon we 
are making a course between the South Shetlands and 
South Orkneys—the Orkneys rather closer on our lee 
than we care for, as a strong current to the east is 
helping us to make lee-way. 

We had our first glimpse of the Polar world this after- 
noon; a thin mist rose from the sea and showed us a huge 
island of ice at some miles distant, white and glittering 
in the faint sunlight. I should think it was about half a 
mile long and about two hundred feet high; the top was 
as level as a billiard table and absolutely white. The 
precipitous sides were of a faint grey blue, with great sea- 
worn green caves shaped like Gothic arches; in these we 
could see the swell rising and falling and bursting out in 


soft foam hundreds of feet in the air. 


204 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


Between us and the berg the sea had the appearance of 
a slack-water, as if the tide was running towards us from 
either side of the berg. On this were countless myriads 
of Cape pigeons and blue petrels ; each wave was speckled 
with them, about a yard apart, all heading towards the 
distant berg and against the breeze. As we sailed past 
the birds, those closest to us rose and circled round us for 
a little, then joined the others on the water. To make 


a foreground to this Antarctic picture three enormous 


whales rolled their black backs through the grey sea 
with ponderous, irresistible force, throwing up blasts of 
fine spray, which hung in the air for a few seconds, and 
then vanished above their white wake. They were of a 
erey-black colour, with a sheen of purple-brown—  finners,’ 
we called them. Whenever they rose to blow a flight of 
blue petrels came and hovered over them. 

We caught about a dozen Cape pigeons this afternoon 
for the larder: they make excellent scouse, and we had 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 205 


great fun catching them. First of all I caught about 
a dozen with a cast of loch flies baited with fat ; but this 
was rather slow work, so one of the crew rigged a thing 
resembling a landing-net on the end of a boat-hook. A 
second man threw in scraps of food at the bow. The 
pigeons came tumbling over each other for the food as it 
passed alongside, and he with the net bailed them on 
board. All hands had quite a gay time at this in the 
dog watch. Every one had a try at it, it looked so easy 
to catch some of the scores of birds that came down; but 
they were cautious though they were eager, and the long 
pole was difficult to handle with accuracy, 

Just before dark we could make out another berg down 
to leeward. As the barometer was going down we were 
anxious to get to the south of the Shetlands, which 
islands ought to be to the westward of us now, in case 


of a gale from the south-west. 


.. . There is a fresh wind, cold and damp, with a swell 
running from the westward. The sky looks threatening— 


206 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


leaden-coloured with rags of purple-grey cloud driving up 
from the west. In places the upper grey sky is ribbed 
like sea sand. 

The sun sets now far to the southward, and scarcely 
dips below the horizon, To-night it has left a long band 
of cold orange between the sea and the level canopy of 
cloud. 

Ahead of us to the east and west are two icebergs, 
forming what seems to us a wide porch to the unknown 


Antarctic seas. 


Saturday, 17th Dec—The fog came down thick last 
night, and when it cleared up this morning with a fresh 
nor’wester we found we had made a passage somehow or 
other between a number of large bergs. A few large 
ragged pieces 
of ice, like the 
roots of huge 
teeth, are roll- 
ing about in the 
swell, with the 
greyseasurgine 
over them and 


pouring down 


their sides in 
white streams. The men call these detached pieces of ice 
‘growlers,’ from their unpleasant nature and the sound the 
sea makes breaking over them. To us they can do little 
harm; but many an iron ship has had her sides ripped 
by these wandering rocks, 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 207 


A few penguins are swimming round us. Now and 
then they put their heads above water and quangk—a 
sudden, melancholy, strange call, sounding sad and lonely 
in the mist. 

This morning we saw a seal alongside, apparently 
sleeping, I bolted for my rifle and managed to put a 
bullet in its head. We drifted down on it; but we had 
nothing ready to hook into it; a boat-hook would not 


hold, and a running bowline we got round it slipped over 
its after end, just as we had hauled it up to the rail. 
Fortunately it was shot before it had time to contract its 
muscles, so it floated.! 

It would have been an unlucky thing to lose the first 
blood of the cruise, so the starboard quarter-boat was 


lowered and after some hunting the seal was picked up. 


? [hold that the contraction of the muscle—the panniculus carnosus—has 
more to do with a seal’s sinking than the state of its lungs when it is shot. 


208 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


Again I was struck by the exquisite beauty of our white 
Yankee whale-boat. With its black, spidery oars lifting 
it over the grey seas, it seemed the very embodiment of 
strength, grace, and speed. After pulling about in the 
mist for a few minutes the crew came upon the seal, 
rowed alongside, and climbed on board, whilst we on deck 
hauled the boat up to the davits. 

Then the seal was laid on deck, and we all examined it 


with much interest, for it was very different from those of 


the north. It measured seven feet from its nose to the 
end of its hind flipper. Its colour was nearly black, with 
a tinge of brown and a silvery-grey sheen; beneath it was 
of a yellow umber colour, spotted with the dark colour of 
its back ; its head, with its large teeth and narrow, shark- 
like eyes, somewhat resembled that of a Danish hound. 
Its circumference was small for its length, and the blubber 
very thin, so we concluded it had either come through the 


breeding season or travelled far. 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 209 


Just after killing the seal there was a shout amongst 
the men forward, ‘A Uni! A Uni!’—the whalers’ term 
for a Narwhale. Several men said they saw their 
horns. 

The crow’s-nest was sent aloft to-day. It is a 
cask, about five 
feet deep, paint- 
ed white, with 
iron clamps that 
clasp on to the 
main-topgallant 
mast. In the 
bottom there is 
atrap-door. To 


get into the nest 


you climb up a 
Jacob’s ladder— 


wooden ratlins 


rigged on two 
backstays that run from the top-gallant mast-head to the 
cross-trees ; these run through the bottom of the tub. You 
climb up these and shove the trap open with your head, 
and when you are right into the tub you let the trap shut 
below you, and stand on it, and enjoy the extensive view. 
If you prefer it, you can sit on a shelf-seat fixed in the back 
of the tub—a sheltered, quict place, far removed from the 
troubles of the little world below: round the top of the 
tub there is a small iron balustrade, on which a screen 
runs, so as to shelter the watcher from the wind. 


.. . The boats were all lowered from the skids to the 
O 


210 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


deck to-day and slung out on to wooden davits that are 
fixed to the outside of the bulwarks. 

The mist still hangs over us, and we expect to meet the 
ice every hour. The growlers are more frequent, and we 
hear the surge rolling over them; now and then they 
show through the mist, faint pearly-grey and white and 
dull green, with the swell spuming white down their 
worn sides. They are slowly drifting, on their funereal 
voyage to the warm waters of the north... . 

All day we steamed southwards through the black, 
smooth water, with the mist hanging round us brown and 
damp, At two o'clock it grew a little lighter, and the 
folds of the mist curtain were drawn up a little, as if by 
hands from above, and beneath the veil we saw the edge 
of the Antarctic ice close to us, white against a dark 
sky beyond, 

I felt as if the weariness and the fret of many years of 
voyaging would be repaid by the first glimpse of this 
strange white land, by the sensation of quietly stealing 
under the mist veil into this secret white chamber of great 
Nature. The blocks of ice and snow that formed the 
floating shore were varied with many faint tints, pale 
violets, creamy whites, and silky greens ; and the shapes 
were as beautiful and unexpected by me as the delicacy 
and variety of the colours. It was as if a Doric temple 
built in dreamland of Carrara marble had been thrown 
down, and lay floating calmly on the dark, still water. 
Yet with all the strangeness of the fantastic shapes, of 
capitols, columns, and shattered carvings, there was still a 


decision in the sculpture of the blocks and masses, and a 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 211 


certainty in the working out of each detail, in the form of 
the icicles hanging from goblin mushrooms, in the green 
fret-work supporting white tables, that made us marvel at 
the skill of the design, and wonder what it was in this 
stillness that owned and enjoyed such grand and delicate 
beauty. Whilst we skirted this floating snow-land, the 
crew watched it from the black bulwarks, and were awed 
into silence by its unfamiliar beauty. The silence was 
broken by a whale rising between us and the ice; he was 
about seventy feet long, I should guess. He spouted a jet 
of steam into the mist and went down. Some one called, 
‘He’s a Bowhead !’ and every one forgot all about the ice 
and thought of whalebone and blubber and great profits. 
All the men who were not already on deck crowded on to 
the focsle-head at the shout, and waited to see the whale 
come up again—a silent group of intensely expectant 
figures, with the mist hanging grey on their clothes and 
beards. A second time he rose quite close to us, spouted, 


sighed heavily, rolled slowly over, and went down without 


‘showing enough of his back to let us know whether he 


was a finner or aright whale. Certainly his colour was 
not quite right—it was not black enough for a Bowhead ; 
still, the colour would not matter, we thought, if he had no 
fin on his back. The third time he rose higher, and just 
as he was going down a diminutive fin appeared, and a 
shout of laughter echoed in the misty stillness, and every 
one bundled off to his work jeering at the man who 
‘couldn’t tell a Bowhead from a bl—y finner.’ 

Think of all the dreary melancholy, the blank hopeless- 


ness described by writers about the Arctic, and you can have 


212 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


but a faint idea of the sad, inhuman feeling of solitude there 
is in this world of white cliffs and black sea. Take all the 
grace, softness, and mystery of form and colour together, 
that they have written of, and you can scarcely dream of 
the delicate beauty of the forms, or the infinite subtlety of 
the harmonies in white, and silver, and green, and pale 


yellow and blue that we have seen in these last few hours 


steaming along the pack edge—an endless fairy picture, 
painted on silk, with a ghostly brush from a palette of pearl. 

To give more than a suggestion of colouring is as im- 
possible in colour as in words. The bloom on a child’s 
cheek can be reproduced in paints, but these high-toned 
schemes of variously-tinted white are infinitely more diffi- 
cult, Their unfamiliarness is at once their difficulty and 
their charm. One feels in looking at them as if develop- 


ing a new sense of sight, with each new effect of colour, so 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 213 


that the thought of attempting to reproduce the tints at 
the time is crowded out of mind. 

All the effects that I can hope to give here as illustra- 
tions are merely the most evident—those that may be ex- 
pressed in grim black and white—but any delicacy of light 
and shade and tint that I attempt to reproduce in colour, 
is certainly beyond the reproductive powers of our patent 
photographic engraving processes. 

To-night Nick laid out five tumblers, five spoons, and 
the sugar-bowl on the cabin table, with a considerable 
amount of solemnity, and the master brought out his rum, 
and we in the cabin were invited to celebrate the occasion 
of our reaching the ice with a modest glass of rum hot! 
Taking the total distance N.S.E. and W., we have sailed 
about gooo miles, and come through much bad weather, 
with no loss but a few sails and one spar. So the occasion 


quite well warranted the excuse for a glass. 


Sunday, 18th Dec—The mist came down over us again 
this morning, and hid the bergs—which are now very 
numerous, from our view. A few Cape pigeons are flying 
round us; they show their black-and-white chequered 
backs as they fly under our stern, and fade away in the 
mist, where they seem as much at home as we feel strange. 

When there is a lift in the mist we take advantage of it, 
and steer south by west, making a course along the ice 
edge for Erebus and Terror Gulf, in Louis Philippe Land, 
where Sir James Ross saw the right whales in 1842, and 
where we expect to meet our consorts. We expected to see 
Clarence Island, the eastmost of the South Shetlands, but 


214 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


the fog was too thick ; so the first land we can see now is 
Joinville Land, or the small islands that lie to the N.E. of it. 

We passed a large berg this afternoon, probably a little 
more than a hundred feet high. I guessed it was eight 
miles long, and by compass bearings we made it seven and 
three-quarters. To our Arctic sailors this was an extraor- 
dinary sight, as a berg a mile long in the north is consi- 
dered huge. But the impression of size is not received 
from enlargement of an object in one direction, so this ice 
cliff, eight miles long by a hundred feet, was not particu- 
larly impressive. The most imposing effect I have yet seen 
was a mere chip off one of these bergs ; it loomed out of a 
bank of mist, and grey surges climbed up its ice cliffs and 
burst, and the spray vanished in the mist above. 

The melancholy of this grey Sabbath amongst the 
bergs was broken this afternoon by the cry of ‘A sail!’ 
Though we expected every hour to fall in with one of our 
consorts, it came as a great surprise to us. It seemed so 
improbable, at first hearing, to see another vessel here. Just 
for a few moments we saw it during a lift in the mist; it 
was a mile or two astern of us. Then the north wind 
brought the fog down again and hid it, before we could do 


more than guess which of our consorts it might be. 


Monday, 19th Dec—The weather has been so thick 
that it has not been possible to shoot the sun for the last 
two or three days, so we trust to dead reckoning. Last 
night the fog fell so thickly that we could not see the end 
of the jibboom—a nice position to be in with bergs to 


windward and bergs to leeward, drifting goodness knows 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 21 


we 


where! Fortunately the wind, that had been blowing 
pretty fresh, fell at night, and our case was not so bad as 
it might have been. It was queer work as it was, and we 
thanked our stars we had steam power to get us out of 
the way of the ice islands when they heaved insight. All 
night the men were peering out into the mist, and every 
now and then you heard a shout from the vague figure at 
the bow: ‘Berg right ahead!’ Then a shout from aft: 
‘Berg astern!’ and ‘ Berg to port!’ ‘Berg to starboard?’ till 
we thought we were completely hemmed in. In the 
morning the mist lifted suddenly, and the welcome sun 
shone out. Then we saw the grisly company in which we 
had spent the night. White cliffs were shimmering in the 
sunlight in every direction—very beautiful they were, but 
we did not linger in our leave-taking. 

To-day the air is pleasant and warm, and the thermo- 
meter stands at 40°. I have managed to make half-a-dozen 
ice-sketches. The difficulty in doing so was the number 
of subjects, also the blaze of white light on the snow made 
me quite blind when I went below to work out my notes. 
It was so dazzling, too, when I came up on deck again, that 
the forms of the ice were invisible for some time. 

The glass went down rapidly to-day, and a. N.E. gale 
sprang up in the afternoon. From twelve o’clock midday 
till six we steamed and sailed with the gale on our quar- 
ter, along the side of what appeared to be an endless berg. 
When we reached the south end of the cliff, we turned 
and sailed S.W. for a few miles, and lay in the shelter of 
the ice cliff, with the wind howling through our rigging, till 


the masts trembled down to the cabin floor. We calcu- 


216 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


lated the side of the berg we sailed past was at least thirty 
miles long, with an even height of little more than a hun- 
dred feet. There was but one break in the dead level line 
of its top, where it rose to perhaps two hundred feet or 
rather. less, in the shape of something like an inverted 
bowl, with part of the front cut away. It appeared to me 
that this may have been raised by the berg grounding on 
a submarine peak. There were, however, no splits to 
suggest any sudden upheaval; the curves were soft and 
gradual, and suggestive of a gradual accumulation rather 


than an upheaval. 


Tuesday, 20th Dec—Last night we lay sheltering 
behind the berge—driving to leeward and steaming up 
to it again. A cold, strong gale is blowing on us over 
the top of the table-land of ice. It whistles through our 
rigging and brings stinging snow-showers. Snow and 
mist come down together, and blot out our sheltering berg 
from view. Masts and rigging are white with snow and 


ice—a wintry picture—yet this is the middle of the Ant- 


‘atipy e957 ayy UO TAKS 


218 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


arctic summer! I think the climate here is probably 
worse than farther south, where the temperature may 
be lower but less changeable. In the afternoon the 
sun shone out clearly, and we went on our course again. 
A great swell was running from the N.W., and the sea 
was bright blue and littered all over with small fragments 
of white snow and ice, through which we ploughed our 
way. This small ice was perhaps the cause of the great 
length of the swell, which was not deep, but from top to 
top of each low hill was so long, that any guess I could 
make would scarcely sound credible to one who had not 
seen such a swell on the ice edge. A berg to the south of 
us, about three miles long, seemed to extend over only 
five or six of these low hills. When they rose and burst 
out of the caves the towers of spray were magnificent, and 
must have risen three hundred feet in the air. I give a 
drawing of this berg. It was apparently breaking up. 
Large portions seemed as if they had been undermined, 
and had fallen into the sea. The ship, which I have in- 
serted, had to be made many times too large to be visible. 

It was only for a few hours we enjoyed the sunshine. 
The mist came down again in the afternoon; it was so 
thick and heavy that even the Cape pigeons seemed to lose 
their way, and fluttered quite close to us for company’s sake. 

The engine-room on such an evening is the most com- 
fortable place in the ship. After the snow and cold mist 
on deck it is pleasant to sit down there in the warm gloom 
and watch the gleam of the yellow firelight on the oily 
pistons as they slowly rise and fall. It is but a small 


engine, and one engineer and a fireman can meet all its 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 219 


wants during the watch ; still, it gives a feeling of civilisa- 
tion that to our degenerate nature is almost welcome in 
this far land. 

The engineers, like their engines, have more of modern 
thought than the whale-killers in the cabin—how we value 
them now, when we cannot see a ship’s-length ahead, with 
bergs everywhere, and land anywhere. 

When we are not steaming up to the shelter of a berg, 
or steaming clear of one to leeward, we play dominoes for 
imaginary stakes, and tell yarns, and I learn here, as 
any one may learn by reading Kipling’s ‘ Bolivar, that there 
is as much of the Romance of the Sea, to use a rather 
pretty term, in the stoke-hole of a Whaler or an ocean 
tramp as in any of the old South Spainers, 

We have been taking soundings, for, by dead reckoning, 
we ought to be in the neighbourhood of the Danger 
Islands, which Sir James Ross discovered in 1842. We 
have no wish to land on them suddenly with this big swell 
running. 

We use Sir William Thomson’s (Lord Kelvin) deep- 
sea sounding-line ; and the doctor has managed to have 
Dr. H. R. Mill’s deep-sea thermometer attached to it— 
an interesting combination of two scientists’ inventions, 
which we feel they would have much pleasure in working 
themselves were they here. 

In fine weather it is somewhat aggravating to hear our 
whaling friends talking big of practical seamen, and of 
‘thae scienteefic chaps wha stay at hame and ken naethin’ 
aboot the sea ava’’—ignoring their entire dependence on 


such trifles as the compass, sextant, chronometer, etc. ; and 


220 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


it is equally satisfactory to see them here, in a tight place, 
using the scientists’ inventions for the sake of dear life. 
There is much ice round us to-night, and every now 
and then, as I draw in my bunk, comes a crash and a 
shuddering, tearing sound, as if our thirty-two inches of 
timber were being crushed like a straw hat; it is a bad 
place, this, for weak nerves. In the silence that follows - 
we cannot but wonder whether the next rasping will be 
the edge of a growler rubbing off the barnacles, or the 
first touch of the green ice-cliff that lay to leeward when 


we turned in. 


Wednesday, 21st Dec—No change in the weather. The 
sun shines feebly through the mist. There is nothing to be 
seen from deck, and we lie idly rolling, waiting for a lift. 

A seal appeared under our stern and the mate shot it, 
but the bullet went a trifle behind its skull and it sank. 
Apparently it was the same as the last we saw. Later, 
some penguins jumped on to an ice island and we shot 
three of them. We are to have them for Christmas 
dinner, but sincerely trust there may be something besides. 
These were the first we had seen close at hand, and our 
astonishment at their appearance was great. 

At 4 o'clock it cleared up, and we had at last an open 
view. Sailing round a long point of bergs and pack ice 
we headed S.W. with a light breeze in the N.E. The 
colour of the water has changed to the colour whalers like 
—a raw umber tint, caused by minute colourless jellies, 
the size of small shot, each speckled with brown spots. 


The grey, streaky sky has opened in the N.E., leaving a 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 2 


iS) 


T 


long band of primrose along the horizon, a pleasant 
change from the wet and mist that we have had so much 
of lately. In all directions great whales are showing their 
black backs and blowing up jets of hot, wet breath. The 
puffs rise as from an escape steam-pipe, and float away with 
the wind down the yellow ribbon of light, and seem to 
melt into the low canopy of grey clouds. 

There was quite an impressive ceremony to-night. All 
hands were called aft to the break of the poop and divided 
into three watches—the master and the two mates 
picking men alternately; so the crew is now divided into 
three watches, and the day is divided into three eight-hour 
watches. This division of the day is adopted on reaching 
whaling-ground, instead of the four hours on and four off 
usual at sea; this is to suit the long spells in the boats 


that the men may be expected to have. 


Thursday, 22nd Dec.—Were there natives in this part 
of the world I suppose that they would call this a fine day. 
We can see quite a mile on each side, now, sometimes 
even two or three when the mist rises. There must be 
about a score of icebergs round us—huge fellows—grim 
companions ; we are under the belief that their feet are 
resting on the green, muddy bottom, for we see about one 
hundred and fifty feet of them above water, and the depth 
by sounding is something under two hundred fathoms, so 
that would allow their depth below water to be as is 
usually supposed nine times that of their height above the 
surface. They ought to be well anchored, and the more 
firmly fixed they are the better for us. A S.E. wind is 


222 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


blowing down on us over their tops, humming as it does 
in mountain tops before a storm; snow fine as dust and 
as hard as flint is driven along with it, stinging our faces 
till they burn, It has filled up all the nooks and crannies 
about the decks, and lies in the folds of our furled sails. 
We can make no progress, can do nothing but dodge 
about in the lee of a big berg and keep out of harm’s 
way: the few men on deck are getting the whale lances 


and knives ready, giving them all a touch-up on the 
grindstone. It is midsummer, but the Balzna looks 
like a Christmas-card, and we feel the blazing stove in 
the cabin none too warm. 

As I have already mentioned, one of our hands who did 
haircutting and bird-skinning left us at the Falklands, so 
the doctor has taken up bird-skinning in his place, and 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 223 


what with attending to the sailors’ boils and various 
complaints, arising from this inhospitable climate, and 
making his hourly observations, his hands are full. I 
should like to give a drawing of the doctor at work in his 
bunk, overwhelmed with skins, bottles, and apparatus, 
but perhaps there would be ‘¢rop de choses; as the great 
Carolus used to say. 

Wind S.E. We thought we saw land to-night to the 
westward. 


Friday, 23rd Dec.—Hurrah! we’ve made the land at 
last—the islands of the Antarctic Continent. At seven 
this morning the mist rose and we found ourselves almost 
exactly where our dead reckoning put us, but rather 
nearer the most northerly of the group of Danger Islands 
than we cared to be, Sir James Ross discovered them 
fifty years ago, and I suppose they have not been seen 
since. Beyond them to the west lay the N.E. end of 
Joinville Land, seen by Admiral d’Urville from the N.W. 
in 1838, What we saw of it was a sweep of snow that 
rose in a very gradual slope to between two or three 
thousand feet, then fading almost imperceptibly into the 
clouds. At times the sun shone through the whisps of 
cloud and chased shadows along the glacier slopes; I 
thought the faint lines I could trace on the snow might be 
crevasses. Not a sign of a rock or any kind of land 
showed through the glacier slopes. Sir James Ross saw 
some rocks like warty excrescences breaking abruptly 
from the snow on the top, and Captain Crozier and his 


officers in the Terror believed they saw smoke issuing 


224 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


from the top, but owing to the wreaths of cloud we could 
not see the rocks, neither did we see any smoke. 

I made several profile views of the land and the Danger 
Islands of the useful, if not altogether of the ornamental, 
kind of art. Some of the islands we found had not been 
charted by Sir James Ross; probably he did not see them 
owing to their being surrounded by icebergs. The largest 
was called Darwin Island. It has blue-black precipitous 
sides, with a table-top covered with snow. Some of the 


islets were low and flat, without snow, others rose like 


Danger Islands, 


broken pillars abruptly from the sea, and these also had no 
snow on their flat tops. I failed to find a reason why the 
snow should lie on some of the islands and not on others, 

This has been a tremendous day of business: both 
watches have been coiling the whale lines into their 
compartments in the whale-boats. This is a mighty care- 
ful process. They have to be laid down so that they can 
run out when the whale sounds, without a hitch. One 


line is coiled down in the stern-sheets in a triangular 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 2 


te 
Ww 


shape—the steersman stands on this, when it is not run- 
ning out—another is coiled in a box amidships, and the 
third is coiled in the bow. There has been some demur 
about coiling the lines on a Friday ; but so many instances 
are quoted of full ships as the result of lines being coiled 
on a Friday, that the work goes on merrily, and as each 
crew lays down the last fathom they give a cheer, and 
the men in the neighbouring boats growl at each other 
for their slowness. Every one is in a state of great ex- 
pectation : to-morrow we ought to be amongst the ‘ great 
numbers of the largest-sized black whales’ that Ross 
wrote about. 

One of our harpooneers, the slayer of hundreds of 
leviathans—perhaps the oldest and most energetic of our 
crew—has not coiled his lines down yet. He has kept out 
of sight in his bunk, whistling to his dicky-bird, waiting 
till twelve o’clock, the end of the nautical day, when there 
will be time enough, as he says. Nothing will inducelhim 
to equip his boat, and nothing will make him confess that 
it is on account of its being Friday. The harpoon-guns 
too are being fixed in the bullet-heads on the boats’ bows, 
They are rather like short-barrelled duck-punt guns— 
muzzle-loaders with a pistol stock supported on a crutch 
and a swivel-pin that turns in the bullet-head; afew 
inches behind this bullet-head there is a second bullet or 
timber-head, round which the line is hitched ‘as it “runs 
out over the stem. 

Soon after passing Danger Islets we saw the southern 
extremity of Joinville Land, called by Ross Cape Purvis. 


Off this point lay Paulet Island, 750 feet high, as estimated 
P 


226 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


by Ross—I should have thought it only about 600. Its 
sides rise precipitously from the sea, then slope gradually 
into a truncated cone. The only snow on the island lay 
in a gully down the middle of the cone. I could see no 
reason why the snow did not lie on this island, as there 
were steeper slopes on the other islands on which the 
snow lay. The snow on the islands and the snow on the 
land to the eastward was of a slightly different tint from 
that on the pack-ice and bergs. It had a yellowish, creamy 
tinge, whilst that on the pack and bergs was cold absolute 
white. The difference was very slight, but remarkable. 
It would be interesting to know the cause. 

Captain Davidson of the Active discovered that Join- 
ville Land does not continue to Cape Fitzroy, but is 
separated from the land to the South by a strait through 
which he navigated the Active. Captain Davidson called 
the land Dundee Island, and the strait the Firth of Tay. 

As we steamed south the views of the land and ice- 
bergs and islands and birds became so numerous and in- 
teresting that we felt at a loss which to look at first. The 
number of penguins increased as we sailed towards Erebus 
Gulf. They jumped on to the ice-cakes in family parties, 
and looked at us as we passed, striking quaint attitudes 
on the snow ; then a new kind of tern appeared, and some 
snowy petrels—an exquisitely beautiful, pure white bird, 
never found far from the ice ; they are about the size of a 
common tern, with black beak and eyes and feet. 

About midday we saw a long, pale, brown figure 
lying on the snow, and all eyes were bent on it; at first, 


owing to the blinding white light, it was difficult to see 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 227 


what it was, but as we came close we found it to be a 
great seal, of such a light colour, that if it had not been 
for the contrast with the snow we would have called it 
white. We passed within a few yards of it, and wakened 
it, but it gave us very little attention, merely raised its 
head, with some snow sticking to the hair, and looked over 
its shoulder at us, then closed its black eyes and lay down 


to sleep again; it seemed to ignore the presence of us 


ee SSS SS The 
a SSS f 


poor creatures who require a ship and engines and all 
sorts of things to come and sail in its country, where it 
can supply all its own wants and spend the whole day in 
glorious repose on the snow in the faint sunlight. We 
lowered a boat after we had passed it, and several hands, 
mostly Johnnie Raws, tumbled in. Whalers are not 
born, and some of the young chaps who got into the boat 
had much to learn. The smith and the cooper got amid- 


228 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


ships, sat facing each other, and pulled, each his own way. 
Such a ‘how to do’ I never did see. I had expected some 
rather smart boat work in a whaler, but on this occasion 
there was enough excitement to launch anark. Every one 
pulled his own stroke; they bucketed, rolled, and pulled 
out of time, but they pulled hard, and at thirty yards the 
men in the bow began blazing away at the astonished 
seal. It would have been as easy to hit as a haystack, 
but the excitement was such that it took seven shots 
before the seal was hit. Then we jumped on to the snow 
and despatched the poor beast with ice-picks, and rolled it 
into the boat, using the oars as a gangway, and it was no 
light work doing this, for the seal was full twelve feet, 
with girth in proportion. Later in the day we saw 
many more of these ‘white seals, as we called them; we 
did not stop to kill them, but steamed ahead to reach our 
rendezvous in Erebus and Terror Gulf. 

The bergs have become so numerous that we 
have been sailing 
through aisles 
of ice-cliffs, the 
beauty of which 
was beyond de- 
scription. Now 
and then our pas- 
sage was blocked 


by barriers of 


floe-ice, twenty 
feet thick, soft and white on top, but under water hard and 
green, We ran into these and drove them aside, and it 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 229 


was altogether a novel sensation to me this running a ship 
intentionally against what appeared to be solid ice islands. 
Sometimes an island would not break or shove aside, then 
we backed, and steamed against it again full tilt, and the 
sensation we felt in the Balaena was as if we were inside 
a hamper and some one had jumped on it. As we jammed 
slowly through between the pieces they tore along our 
sides, and took off something more than the barnacles we 
brought from the tropics. 

It seems strange that the penguins should jump out of 


the water on to the snow at our approach, instead of into 


the water off the snow. They scurry over the snow in an 
upright position, like little fat men in black coats and 
white silk waistcoats. Their bare pink fect show just 
beneath their waistcoats, but for all that they look as 
respectable as can be. When they reach the middle of 
the ice islands they toddle up some mound of snow and 
wave their flippers to us with most ridiculous empresse- 
ment. I am sure they discuss the new arrivals in their 
country; though ‘quangk-quangk,’ is the only word 
I distinguish, their attitudes are as expressive as a 
Shakespearian vocabulary. When they are not engaged 
making a living below water they come up and play 
games on the snow—have little debating societies, and 
King of the Castle and other games, and sometimes when 
they are in great numbers they have military manceuvres. 


The men say they are the only things worth coming to 


230 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


see in the Antarctic, and no matter how melancholy a 
man may feel, if he sees one of these jolly little fellows 
he cheers up. 

An hour or two ago I saw an elderly tar with rather a 
sad face, looking over the bulwarks across the ice in a 
dreamy sort of way, thinking perhaps of his home and 
his family. Just in front of him a penguin popped out of 
the water on to the ice, then turned and looked down to 
see how high it had jumped—it was good three feet—then 
put its head in the air and waddled away over the snow, 


with its toes pointed out, and an expression that said 


5 Sb) y a 


‘A precious good jump that for me anyway.’ At this 
little episode a wintry smile stirred the lines on my 
friend’s face; and when a second penguin, a friend of the 
first, missed the jump and hit his head against the ice- 
ledge and fell back into the water, the smile changed to a 
broad grin. Penguin No. 2 was not to be daunted, how- 
ever, but made another attempt, and got up and waddled 
after his friend, expostulating with him loudly for not 
offering him a hand-up, and the melancholy man filled 
full of laughter, and rolled away forward to the focsle, to 


discuss ‘thae blasted funny wee beggars,’ with his mates. 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 231 


ies} 


To-night we steamed into Erebus and Terror Gulf— 
the place where it was arranged the four consorts were to 
meet—and within four hours of each other three of the 
four turned up. The Active, which we had a glimpse of 
a few days ago, came up from the ice to the eastward, and 
a few hours afterwards the Diana’s topsails appeared 
above the ice in the north. Half-an-hour afterwards the 
three black barques lay alongside each other, in a pool of 
open water, with the Union Jacks flying apeak. The sun 
at midnight just dipped below the horizon of ice and rose 
again, tinging the level bands of clouds with a faint lemon 
yellow. Near us a square berg, with round buttresses 
rising at its corners, stood dark and grey against the sky. 
We only wanted the little Polar Star to make the picture 
complete. 


COELACPA ER Sey 


GATURDAY, 24th Dec.—Now for the whales, if there 

are any! Every one is on the look-out for the black 
back of the finless whale that carries the gold in its 
mouth. Looking back on our course we see Paulet 
Island to the N.E., surrounded with loose ice and small 
bergs, and to the south the horizon is broken with bergs 
and loose ice; above us there is delicate grey sky that 
lifts at times, showing a yellow band of light in the east. 
To the west the snow-clad land comes out towards us, 
terminating in what, I suppose, is Cape Gordon; then it 
stretches back, west and south, till we can just make out 
the entrance to Admiralty Inlet—a deep opening into the 
snow-clad land, fortified on either side by black precipitous 
cliffs, which rise one above the other in terraces till they 
are lost in the clouds. The inlet reminds me somewhat 
of the entrance to Loch Huron or some Norwegian fiord. 
In front of the entrance there are some low islands of a 
reddish, chocolate colour, with almost no snow on them. 
Between us and the land, in the open water of the gulf, 
we see our two companion vessels. They help us to 
form an idea of the height of the mountains. Mount 
Haddington lies west, slightly north of Admiralty Inlet, 


but on account of the low clouds we cannot see its top. 


} Whalebone was worth £2500 per ton when we left Dundee. A big 
whale has a ton of bone in its mouth. 
232 


= 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 233 


Glaciers cover the whole slopes of the land, in some 
places sweeping down to the sea and in others ending 
abruptly at the edge of some black cliff. Immediately to 
the north of Admiralty Inlet we can see a deep bight in 
the snow slope that seems to form a horse-shoe bay, with 
steep white sides, sloping into the sea, which terminate 
above in a circle of glacier-capped cliffs. We are filled 
with an intense longing to land and make a closer 
acquaintance with these shores, which have but once 
before been seen by man. What might we not discover ? 
and what a glorious view to the south we could have 
from the top of Mount Haddington! When the clouds 
lifted we could lay out the chart over leagues of un- 
discovered lands. But blubber is apparently to be 
the only interest, and we steer away south-east—away 
from the land—in search of it. The progress of Sir 
James Ross to the south was here stopped by the loose 
pack-ice—the sort of ice that offers no impediment to 
our vessels. To the south we see loose ice, and beyond 
it blue sky and open water. With our steam power 
and well-protected hulls we could push right through 
it, as easily as what we have already come through 
—south or south-east, for who can tell how far, without 
risk. We are in an unknown world, and we stop—for 
blubber. . 

We are steering to the south-east, the three ships in 
line; the Balana leads, the Active and Diana follow. 
We are leaving the open water in Erebus and Terror 
Gulf, threading our way through the loose pack between 
aisles of many bergs. The water is calm and dark, 


” : 
“you Yan fry Manian d, 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 235 


almost inky, with a lilac shimmer on its surface, and on 
either side of us the cliffs rise high above our masts, their 
splintered sides hung with gauzy whisps of vapour that 
float motionless in the cold, sunny air. The side of the 
bergs near us are of a transparent leaden colour, dusted 
with snow. Occasionally we pass greeny-blue clefts in 
the cliffs, which seem to lead far into the berg to fairy 
chambers in the white palaces. Above, the sky is of the 
most delicate lapis-lazuli blue, crossed with soft bands of 
dull white cloud and flecked with cirri. As the bergs 
recede into perspective behind us, they take faint, rosy, 
purple tints. In this colourless illustration you see the 
Active and the Diana, with her broken mizzen, following 
in our course. They are on the north side of the ice 
fiord, and the sunlight pouring over the ice-cliffs lights 
their flesh-coloured spars; their black hulls are in shadow 
and set off the delicate pearly colouring of the bergs. We 
are on the south side of the canal, in the shadow of the 
cliffs, forcing our way through belts of snow-ice that bar 
our passage. Sometimes we have to shove an ice island 
out of our course; our black bows crunch into its soft, 
snowy surface, and break into the green undercut caves, 
and the shock brings down showers of clinking icicles, 
and the piece is shoved aside. As we pass, black-backed 
penguins jump out of the water, and scurry about on the 
dazzling, white snow. 

The black penguins set off the white tints; but there 
is red in the picture as well, to contrast with the blots 
of intense blue in the snow—vivid splashes of scarlet, 


where the warm carcases of seals which we have killed in 


236 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


“our course lie quivering on the snow. A few nellies— 
large brown birds—dance round them very awkwardly, 
with their big, webbed feet. They peck at each other, 
and then gobble up the warm meat. It is a hideous thing 
this sealing, and most awfully bloody and cruel. Some 
of the seals were killed with the ice-picks—a short staff 
of natural wood about four feet long with a steel pick- 
head ; others were shot. Sport there was none. I would 


sooner stalk a bunny with a pea-rifle, behind a dyke, 


than shoot a score of these splendid, dark-eyed seals. 
They showed not the least surprise at our presence—just 
raised their heads, and sometimes snarled at us. In 
killing them with the picks there was the faintest element 
of risk, as the snow was deep, and hard on the surface in 
some places, and soft in others. Sometimes we plunged in 
waist deep when delivering a blow, and found ourselves 


unpleasantly close to the seal’s gaping jaws. Their huge 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 2 


LoS) 
“I 


bear-like teeth do not look pleasant at close quarters. * 
But the poor beasts only acted on the defensive; if they 
had had the good sense to attack us or take to the water 
instead of taking to the centre of the ice-cakes, there 
would have been trouble. They evidently consider the 
centre of the snow pieces their refuge from danger ; pro- 
bably the Orca or Grampus treats them here as it does 
the seals in the north. We found some of the seals very 
much scarred with long parallel wounds almost encircling 
their bodies. I think these were marks left by the 
grampus; the smaller cuts about their necks and shoulders 
were signs of domestic worries. 

In the evening we steamed gently up against the edge 
of a large pack some miles long, which bounded the 
comparatively open water of the gulf to the south-east, 
Our bows struck softly against its edge, and the screw 
went on revolving, while some men dropped from the 
martingale and made two wire hawsers fast to spikes 
driven deep into the snow. This position was within 
a mile of the spot where Sir James Ross brought in the 
New Year of 1843. 

The Diana and Active followed, running their black 
bows over the snow-edge, one on each side of us, and 
distant a few hundred yards. Some of the boats were 
lowered, and the masters of the ships met and had one of 
their ‘mollies, and the men of the three vessels had an 


opportunity of speaking to each other on the snow. It 


1 An Orca or Grampus, twenty feet long, was found on the Danish coast 
with the remains of fourteen seals and two porpoise inside it. See Rae 
Society. 


8 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


ios) 


was tremendously hard work walking on the snow—a 
hundred yards quite pumped us. 

The pack seemed to consist of collected blocks of 
broken snow-ice levelled up with soft snow, so walking on 
it was most fatiguing. Fora few paces we succeeded in 
walking on the surface, then the crust broke and we 
plunged through waist-deep, often jamming our feet 
between blocks below the snow. With a sledge and dogs 
we could have travelled over this pack fairly well. The 
greatest obstruction to sledging would have been the little 
pinnacles of ice, of the shape of the stumps in a burned 
forest. These stood up all over the level snow in nurnbers. 
In the inside of each point there was a core of hard ice. 

Here we found some of the large king or emperor 
penguins. They landed on the snow just as we brought up 
against the floe edge, and waddled towards the interior 
of the pack, and the stillness of the white evening was 
broken by the shouts of men and boys in pursuit. The 
penguins took it all very quietly, and easily outdistanced 
us on the snow. When ina hurry they dropped on their 
breasts and shoved along with their feet, paddling with 
their flippers, looking rather like turtles in this attitude. 
The track their feet left resembled a dog’s, and when you 
saw these tracks on the snow, following and between the 
flipper marks, it looked exactly like the track of a dog 
in pursuit of some other animal. 

We never could have caught any had they so chosen. 
But at times they stopped to observe our movements, 
climbed on to some snow mound, and looked at us 
first with one eye then the other whilst we stumbled up. 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 239 


We crept up to them, partly surrounded them, and let 
drive with our picks, We got a few, but the remainder 
led us wild chases over the snow, giving us many a 
tumble and matter for infinite mirth to those looking 
on from the focsle-head. 

I made a drawing of one of these extraordinary birds 
as it stood calmly on 
our poop after many 
vain attempts on the 
part of the crew to kill it. 
Driving a hole through 
its brain only saddened 
it, and all the most kill- 
ing treatment usually 
applied to other ani- 


mals only seemed to 


" 


H 
LENT 
il 


Baty iy 
add to its expression of hal iy Oi) 
calm,eternal resignation. SY ae 
They stand about four 
feet four inches high, 
but their bulk in pro- 


portion is something enormous. They are twice the 


thickness of any drawings of the species that I have ever 
seen in books. Either the draughtsmen of these must 
have drawn from stuffed specimens, whose skin had shrunk 
in width, or this is some new kind. Their beak is black, 
with a bright patch of yellow fading into lake, and is long, 
narrow, and curved. There are some golden yellow 
feathers on its neck immediately under its black throat. 
Its back feathers and rudimentary wing-feathers are black, 


240 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


with a slate-grey touch in the centre of each—quills would 
be a better name than feathers, as they resemble a scale 
frayed at the edges rather than feathers. They are very 
stiff, short, and hard, and seem to be scarcely fitting pro- 
tection from the cold. I expected to finda great quantity 
of protective oil beneath the skin, but found there was 


little more than on our guillemots and divers at home. 


... Days such as this are few in a lifetime, so full of 
interest has it been, and so fatiguing. Since early morn- 
ing, rather since yesterday, for there was no night and no 
morning, we have been constantly marvelling at most as- 
tonishing and beautiful spectacles. We have been bathed 
in red blood, and for hours and hours we have rowed in the 
boats and plunged over miles of soft snow dragging seal- 
skins, and I have been drawing hard in the times between 
the boat excursions; but the air is exhilarating, and we 
feel equal to almost any amount of work. Sun and snow- 
showers alternate—fine hard snow it is, that makes our 
faces burn as if before a fire. It is very cold Sketching, 
and incidents and effects follow each other so rapidly that 


there is time to make little more than mental notes. 


Christmas Eve. 


Those who have felt the peace of a summer night in 
Norway or Iceland, where the day sleeps with wide-open 
eyes, can fancy the quiet beauty of such a night among 
the white floes of the Antarctic. 

To-day has passed, glistering in silky white, decked with 
sparkling jewels of blue and green, and we thought surely 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 241 


we had seen the last of Nature’s white harmonies ; then 
evening came, pensive, and soothing, and grey, and all 
the white world changed into soft violet, pale yellow, 
and rose... . 

A dreamy stillness fills the air. To the south the sun 
has dipped behind a bank of pale grey cloud, and the sky 
above is touched with primrose light. Far to the north 
the dark, smooth sea is bounded by two low bergs, that 
stretch across the horizon, The nearest is cold violet 


white, and the sunlight strikes the furthest, making it shine 


like a wall of gold. The sky above them is of a leaden, 
peacock blue, with rosy cloudlets hanging against it—such 
colouring as I have never before seen or heard described. 
To the westward, across the gulf, we can just distinguish 
the blue-black crags jutting from the snowy lomonds. 


Little clouds touched with gold and rose lie nestling in 
Q 


242 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


the black corries, and gather round the snowy peaks. To 
the south, in the centre of the floe, some bergs lie, cold and 
grey in the shadow of the bank of cloud. They look like 
Greek temples imprisoned for ever in a field of snow. A 
faint cold air comes stealing to us over the floe ; it ripples 
the yellow sky reflection at the ice-edge for a moment, 
and falls away. In the distance a seal is barking—a low 
muffled sound that travels far over the calm water, and 
occasionally a slight splash breaks the silence, as a piece 
of snow separates from the field and joins its companion 
pieces that are floating quietly past our stern to the north, 
—a mysterious, silent procession of soft, white spirits, each 
perfectly reflected in the lavender sea. 

Nature sleeps—breathlessly—silent; perhaps she dreams 
of the spirit-world, that seems to draw so close to her 
on such a night. 

By midnight the tired crew were all below and sound 
asleep in their stuffy bunks. But the doctor and I found 
it impossible to leave the quiet decks and the mysterious 
daylight, so we prowled about and brewed coffee in the 
deserted galley. Then we watched the sun pass behind 
the grey bergs in the south for a few seconds, and appear 
again, refreshed, with a cool silvery light. A few flakes 
of snow floated in the clear, cold air, and two snowy 
petrels, white as the snow itself, flitted along the ice- 
edge. 

. A cold, dreamy, white Christmas morning,— 


beautiful beyond expression. 


ei i Rg Sd SS SG 


HRISTMAS DAY.—We rose this morning tired as 
dogs. The air is so overpowering here, that if you 
turn in for a pipe and forty winks you may waken a 
day or two later and growl at having to get up so early. 
Like the seals here, or schoolboys anywhere, we have to 
be fairly bullied awake. But though the air makes” 
us sleepy, we all agree that it has not so much of the 
tonic effect as the air of the Arctic regions—that atmo- 
spheric champagne on which men can work all day and 
night without fatigue. 

We still lie with our bow over the pack, and a rope 
ladder hangs from the bowsprit, so that we can go ‘ashore’ 
whenever we like. Occasionally seals come on to. the ice 
in our neighbourhood, and though the day has been given 
the men as a holiday, a boat’s crew generally goes off to 
secure them. A few Emperor penguins arrived, and they 
were also captured and brought to the ship. 

We had an opportunity to-day of meeting our friend 
Dr. Donald of the Active. To put it mildly, we were ex- 
tremely glad to meet another man of our own kidney, 
and wandered away over the snow-field, and held a great 
palaver behind a hummock, stretched on the snow, enjoy- 
ing the blaze of sunlight. 

We had many notes about bird-life to compare, and 


knotty questions in medicine to discuss, to the solving of 
243 


244 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


which, as assistant surgeon, I lent my most attentive hear- 
ing, and all three bewailed the utter commercialism of the 
expedition. Is it not a hideous marvel that Dundonians 
should show such splendid enterprise as to send four 
ships out here for whales, and at the same time show 
total disregard for the scientific possibilities of such a 
cruise ? 

Our walk over the snow was short and warm. A thou- 
sand yards over deep, soft snow, under a blazing sun, 
did us brown. D. tried barrel-staves as skis. They might 
have supported an average-sized man, but in this case 
they only sank deep blue trenches in the snow, which we 
following found of use. 

Much to our regret, we had no opportunity at this time 
of meeting Dr. Campbell of the Diana. He, we under- 
stand, has been more fortunate than we on the Balzna, for 
Captain Davidson gives him every opportunity of collecting 
specimens. If we lay hold of glacier rocks or birds’ skins 
we raise a whirlwind of objections, and an endless reitera- 
tion of the painfully evident truth that ‘this is no a scien- 
tuffic expedeetion.’ A most painful state of things this, to 
see common albatross skins collected by the score, and rare 
penguins killed by the hundred, their bodies eaten, and 
their skins chucked overboard. Emperor penguins, king 
penguins, an endless variety of birds, some unheard of, 
all go over the side because they are supposed to be of 
no commercial value. To the whaling skipper, animal life 
beyond his own and the Bowheads is absolutely uninter- 
esting. His knowledge is limited by immediate necessity. 


In bird-life he can distinguish a hen from a kittiwake, 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 245 


because the one is worth money and is good to eat; and 
amongst cetaceans he can pick out a Bowhead for the 
sake of its bone and blubber, but in all the other endless 
list of birds and whales, which have surrounded him from 
boyhood, he takes not the least interest, consequently the 
information he can impart is extremely limited. If you 
ask him the difference between a right whale and, say, a 
‘finner, his explanation is, ‘a richt whale and a finner ? 
Oh, there’s nae mistakin’ them—ye ken a richt whale’s 
a’-the-gither duffrent frae a finner. There’s nae resem- 
blance ava. Na, na; there’s nae mistakin’ the twa when 
ye see them; a bairn could tell the duffrence.” I verily 
believe that some of these whales here might be stuffed 
to the throat with bone, and these men would pass them 
by, if they were not facsimiles of the whale they know 
in the north. 

We celebrated the evening of Christmas Day in the 
doctor’s bunk,—a tight fit for three long men with their 
pipes, but we enjoyed ourselves mightily. Donald and I 
curled into the hole used for a bed, whilst Bruce brewed 
our treasured cocoa, which we brought from the Falklands 
for great occasions. Later on we joined the skippers 
in the cabin, and listened to tales of deeds of other years 
—of the killing of great whales, and how the depraved 
skippers, in the old days, drank themselves fuddled on 
a Saturday night, and served out lashins of rum to all 
hands when they killed a big fish, and were not ashamed. 
Nowadays, praise be to God, they are all so very much 
improved, and the crew on these occasions have tea. 


When we turned out of the cabin in the clear morning 


246 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


air to see our friend off we found the black water of the gulf 
was covered with a thin coating of ice-needles, The water 
gradually changed to a delicate, rosy tint of lavender as 
it receded into the distance, and lay so still that the ice 
islands were scarcely distinguishable from their reflections. 
I would willingly give my left hand to have the power to 
paint or describe this one scene of divine beauty. Last 
night filled us with awed admiration ; but the purity and 
heavenly colouring of this still morning is almost oppres- 
sively beautiful. We feel our black ship’s hull and our 
sombre clothes in painful discordance with this land of 


white and rainbow colouring. 


Monday, 26ti,—Lat. 64.30 S.; long. §5.28 W. A clear, 
fine morning, with a bracing wind from the S.E. The 
thermometer at 31°. We left the pack-edge this morning. 


The three vessels are beating about in the open water in 
the gulf between Trinity Land and the somewhat closely- 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 247 


packed ice to the east and south of us. We are waiting 
for the whales to turn up; the water is just the kind they 
like—brown, the colour of a peat stream, thick with diatoms 
that tinge the water-worn tongues and roots of the ice 
islands with the colour of weak tea—a pleasant contrast 
this yellow to the blue and green of the undercut snow 
ledges. This morning we made out a sail to the S.E., and 
had great hopes that it might be our little friend the Polar 
Star. It however proved to be the Jason, the Norwegian 
barque that has come out to keep us company in the 
search for whales. They met the ice some time before us, 
and have been sealing between this and in the ice south 
of the Orkneys for about twenty days. They have had 
splendid weather, and have collected some 500 seals, but 
they have not seen the right whale. 

In the afternoon I went out with a crew and had two 
hours’ pulling, which is about equal to six with decent 
oars. We have a few fairly good American ash oars on 
board, but the others are merely Norwegian fir poles, 
flattened at one end, with as much resemblance to a pro- 
perly-balanced oar as a Castle Connel has to a Norse 
fishing-pole. 

The first seal we came across was a very large one. He 
was lying on the snow on his back and would not budge, but 
turned on us, snarling, showing his formidable teeth and 
red throat. George stood for me for a few seconds whilst I 
elaborated some instantaneous eye exposures with pencil 
and paper, which you have here reproduced. The figure on 
the right tried to kill him with his pick, and gave a welt 
or two at his head that would have killed an ox, but only 


248 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


added to the seal’s savage expression. A bullet at two 
yards ended his days. He was about fourteen feet long, 
dark on the back, yellowish-green below, with coal-black 


spots overlapping lower light parts. His canine teeth were 
very large and formidable-looking, but the three-pronged 


molars were much decayed. I should much like to see 


ee 


the kind of fish these seals capture. Some of the men 
saw one with a large fish in its mouth above water; they 


said it was like a conger-eel. It is very remarkable that 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 249 


we very rarely see these seals swimming with their heads 
above water like our northern seals To-night we 
had our first fricassee of the small penguins. They 
were stewed in curry; the meat was black and un- 
pleasant to look at, but we voted it good. It tasted 
rather like jugged hare with a flavouring of oysters. It 
is a great thing for all hands that they are good eating, 


as it ensures us an endless supply of fresh meat. 


Monday evening.—Still beating about under sail in the 
open water, with plenty of whales blowing all round, but 
still no right whales. 

We are sailing in smooth water amongst scattered ice 
islands. It takes some careful steering to avoid running 
into them, and upsetting Nick’s cups and saucers, At 
tea there was a crash, and the Balena stopped and 
seemed to collapse like wicker-work. It was nothing— 
merely an acre of ice in the way, probably about twenty 
feet thick ; such trifles are of no consequence to a whaler. 
Some advice, however, was passed up the scuttle to the 
steersman. 

. .. Called on my friend ‘The Chief’ to-night. ‘The 
Chief’ is the title of Mr. Broch, our first engineer, who lives 
below with the second engineer in the dark engine-room 
—a life apart from the sailors. We play dominoes down 
there by the light of a smoking miners lamp. The 
temperature is pleasant and warm, and we discuss matters 
of high import. To-night we went right through Scotch 


1 During our long stay in the ice I saw the seals swimming with their 
heads above water only on four or five occasions. 


250 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


history, dating and discussing the Stuarts from the sons 
of Banquo to Queen Victoria. Broch must have left 
school half a century ago, yet he knew far more about 
the subject than I did, and I have been grinding at 
it for months. So much for the education of our old 


country schools. 


Tuesday, 27th—Barometer 29'6 in. ; thermometer up at 
31°,—this is about our average glass here. Fresh wind 
from the S.E. The air is damp, and we feel as if the 
temperature was far below freezing-point. In the ’tween- 
decks the men are making-off the blubber from the skins 
and throwing it into the iron tanks that occupy the lower 
part of our hull. 

Evening—No whales yet ; but every one has one ear 
pricked for the long-expected shout ‘A fall!’—a shout that 
will make us tumble neck and crop into the boats. Even 
in our bunks we are ready to jump up at a moment’s 
notice. We sleep with our clothes beside us, tied up in a 
bundle, so that when the time comes we can jump into the 
boats and dress as we row. 

The excitement when a whale is seen is almost beyond 
belief. Men have been known after long spells of whale- 
chasing in the boats, to go almost off their heads. On 
the shout of ‘Tumble up and go to the boats’ they 
have been known to rush on deck with their bundles and 
throw them into the water instead of the boats, from 
sheer nervousness. Once a boat’s crew rushed on deck, 
threw their bundles over the side into the boat, as they 
thought, and followed themselves ; but there was no boat! 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 251 


So at least Iam told. One necessary precaution for seal- 
ing or whaling is to have a pair of spare mits sewed to the 
inside of one’s jacket, and tobacco and matches you put 
into the pockets overnight. 

We have been close enough to the land to enable us to 
distinguish the colouring and form of the rocks. The low, 
reddish-coloured islands seem to be crossed by fissures 
running into each other obliquely, with a little snow in the 
crevices ; but there is not the least sign of lichen or moss. 

It is a marvel that no scientific expedition has been 
sent down here since the days of Ross. If one is sent in 
future it ought to bring some good Alpine men who would 
climb Mount Haddington and take bird’s-eye views of 
the lie of the land and ice to the south. The ascent 
would not be difficult as far as the steepness goes. We 
cannot be sure whether there are crevasses or not. 

It is almost unbearable to see the land so close and yet 
have no means to land on it. We feel tempted to jump 
overboard and swim. All our boats hang idle on the 
davits, yet we are not allowed one to land with. Snowy 
petrels and penguins of all kinds evidently breed there. 
Captain Larsen of the Jason has landed, and he tells us he 
found beds of fossils on the beach, shells, and tree trunks. 
Some of the fossil shells he showed us resembled very 


large cockles. 


(b Wednesday, 28th—A cold, dreary day. The N.E. 
wind is driving the pack about, causing us some uneasi- 
ness. It threatens to hem us into the gulf. Whalers, 


however, make little of such things. They say that 


252 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


once into the ice they never look over their shoulder, 
and we hang on to this ground, supposing it to be the 
most likely for whales, There is as much dour patience 
needed in whaling as in salmon-fishing. There is little 
choice left us what to do. If we try back the road we 


have come, heavy seas and fogs and the swell in the 
pack await us; land blocks us on the west and south, and 
to the east the sea is a mass of driving bergs and pack-ice 
jamming together. We hope the wind will turn round to 


S,W. again, and give us a chance to get out. 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 253 


The Jason came up astern to-night, and Bruce went on 
board to doctor a sailor who is ill. In the evening 
Captain Larsen came on board, followed later by his 
‘Steersman ’ or first mate, and we had a jolly evening in 
the cabin, smoking and yarning. 

We gave them a parting salute on the pipes as their 


two boats rowed away to the Jason in the early morning. 


Thursday, 29th.—Tired of drawing icebergs, and loafed 
about waiting for seals to come in sight. One has to look 
pretty sharp to get into one of the two boats at present 
used for sealing, for whenever they are ordered to be lowered 
there isa rush of about twice as many men as the boat will 
hold; at least this isso in the morning. By the afternoon, 
when most of the crew have been out, there is not the 
same competition. We soon saw three seals a mile or so 
to windward, and lowered away. Allan, the Spectioneer 
(Spec, Dutch for fat or blubber), was Bow, Two and 
Three were boys, and Braidy, a jolly Irishman, stood at 
the steer-oar. It was cold work rowing at first, and 
coats and mits were none too warm for the first mile. 

Seal number one was asleep, and allowed Bow to shoot 
it without moving its head. We were anxious to bring 
some of these big seals’ skins and anatomy home for 
museums,! so we pulled this one into the boat holus- 
bolus, in the hope that it might be preserved. The 
difficulty in doing so can be understood when it took ten 
men with a tackle to haul it on board-ship. With a lot 


1T understand that none of these were brought home. They were de- 
stroyed or thrown overboard on the return voyage. 


254 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


of pulling we managed to get its head into the boat, but 
there it stuck. Then we lugged it on to the snow again, 
and this time brought the boat’s gunwale to a low ice-edge 
and rolled the carcass on board over the oar handles—no 
easy matter, as besides its weight there was the boat to 
hold in, and the ice-edge was weak and gave way under 
our weight. This large seal is undoubtedly one of the most 


horrid-looking animals. Its huge, lizard-like head and 
long body reminded me of the prints of antediluvian 
monsters. This was not one of the largest, but it 
measured ten feet seven inches from the tip of its nose to 
end of the hind flippers. Its internal economy, excepting 
a green fluid, was as empty as a whistle. How these seals 
sleep so comfortably on the cold snow, on an empty 
stomach, puzzles us. 

The men say that owing to their recent domestic 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 255 


troubles their appetites have quite gone. This lady had 
some fresh teeth-marks about her neck and shoulders. 
The next seal lay in the middle of a flat pan of snow- 
ice. On to this ice we jumped, into the blaze of white 
light that fairly dazed us, the seal’s soul went out at a 
bullet-hole and his skin was off before he stopped jumping. 
It was a new kind to us—what Allan called a fresh- 
water seal, for the reason of its resemblance to a seal in 
the Arctic of that name. It was shorter than the first by 
two feet, with a thicker body, and had more blubber, Its 
skin was dappled, with a red brown and yellow-ochre 
colour along its sides, with dark umber and grey hairs on 
its back. Its head was short and cat-like. There was a 


large supply of fish inside it, resembling something between 


a small whiting and a gurnard. Here is a drawing that 
I made of one less digested than the others. The smell 
of these fish was strong! Just as we had pulled his skin 
into the boat, another seal, a huge fellow of the black 
kind, put his head above water about a hundred yards 
off, and, either attracted by the fish or bent on revenge, 
came down on us, diving and bouncing “half out of 
the water, making a wake like a penny steamer. Two 
dives brought him within fifty yards of the boat. The 


256 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


next time he bounced up alongside and looked horridly 
unpleasant; but a bullet through his neck made him vanish 
instantly. 

We got back to the ship after several hours’ pulling, 
with a boat-load of skins, and as tired with lugging at 


these clumsy oars as if we had rowed-all day. 


Friday, 30th Dec—Spent the afternoon in my bunk 
attempting to paint ice-effects,—shut my ears to all 
interesting sounds of life on deck. After our midday 
meal my conscience went to rest and my body needed 
exercise, so I stood by for the first boat. The doctor has 
been skinning one of the Emperor penguins; this is a 
most difficult task, and takes no end of patience. The 
body is to appear as a goose at New Year’s dinner, and 
its skin will delight the eye of the public in some museum 
in far-away Scotland. There is a great quantity of muscle 
on its anatomy, which itself is slight compared with 
its bulk. Its pectoral muscles alone weighed fourteen 
pounds; they must surely have other use than working 
its flippers. I have noticed they have great power in 
increasing or decreasing their bulk—I expect a good 
deal of the chest muscle is applied to this. 

It would be interesting to know to what depths they 
dive to find their food. I am inclined to believe that 
they feed on the soft bottom, and at great depths, 
from their having a long delicate beak, their enormous 
structural strength, and by reason of our never seeing 
them on the surface of the water. When we do see 


them they are on the snow islands, apparently resting, 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 257 


and these islands are in places where the depth is from 
ninety to two hundred fathoms. 

We found stones and red shrimps inside the penguins ; 
and penguins, red shrimps, and stones inside the seals. 
May good digestion wait on the grampus that swallows 
the lot! 

About midday one of the boats was ordered off for 
seals, and five of us scrambled into it and were lowered 
away. Bonnar weighed down the bow, the Cockney 
steered, I stroked, and two boys rowed Three and Four. 
Bonnar is a stout, good-natured, middle-aged Irishman, as 
round as an egg, with bearded face, a model for a Sancho 
Panza: one moment he is the picture of fat woe, the next 
he is shaking all over with infectious, gurgling laughter. 
All hands enjoy getting away from the ship just now, - 
as the life is made miserable for those left on board by 
one man. Away in the boats we shake off the gloom 
and work like niggers, and enjoy life like schoolboys in 
the country. 

Once we have. shoved off from the black ship’s side 
and begin to row in and out amongst the ice islands we 
feel more at home, as if we, as well as the seals and 
penguins, had a share in this quiet world. Our appear- 
ance I am afraid is rather against such a claim—dark worn 
clothes, soiled with blood, are hardly in keeping with the 
brilliant opal and amethyst-coloured surroundings. The 
exercise in the keen, pure air puts us all in good humour, 
and we get away for a mile or so in splendid whaling 
form. Then Bonnar gets puffed, so we say, and lets his 


oar swing in, and stands in the bow and begins to see 
R 


258 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


‘swales.’ ‘Och, mi bhoys,’ he says, ‘the swales is just all 
round us, an’ thur’s wan to windward about a mile an’ 
a half away, an’ thur’s another away down to leeward. 
has his 


eye on ye; three more strokes and she’s there. An’ jist 


Pull away, mi lads. Shure, an’ the old 


bae so kind as to put her up another point, Mr. 
Campbell, and kape her so. And he takes his oar again, 
much to our relief, as it is only a four-oared boat, and 
when Bow gets up Three has more than his share of 
pulling. His remark to Campbell was pointed. Campbell 
rather prides himself on his steering, for which reason, I 
suppose, a report got up that he was one day found at 
the wheel with the Balzena three points off her course. 
We draw him on this and other subjects as he stands in the 
stern steering with the long steer-oar. To-day he waxed 
eloquent about our Christmas dinner, and had an ap- 
preciative audience. Campbell, notwithstanding his name, 
is a thorough Englishman as regards food, and the Christ- 
mas dinner was really a painful memory to him. ‘Call 
that duff,” he said, almost with tears, ‘woi, that wurn’t no 
duff. Oi’ve bin at sea for a lorng wile, and I never saw duff 
like that before. Plum duff, they calls it! °Oo ever ’eard 
o plum duff made with currints! Woi, the currints war 
as separate as King’s Crorse and St. Pancras. Oi’ve been 
in many a’ungry ship in mi toime, but s’ help me bob, oi 
never was on a ship were ye didn’t ave yer grog on a 
Christmas daiy.’ 

We all jumped on to the snow when we reached 
the ice-piece where the seal was lying absorbing the 
sun, and Bonnar slowly laboured through the snow, 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 259 


bent double, as if he were stalking an educated seal 
of the north. Bonnar has been so long at the New- 
foundland sealing that he deems this style of approach 
necessary here; we try to chaff him out of it without 
success. 

The seal was one of the large whity-yellow fellows with 
small, dog-like head and grand black eyes. I made a 
jotting of the men flinching him ; as a piece of colour the 
effect was gorgeous—masses of scarlet, dazzling white, and 
the blue sea. The snuffling of the seal, and the sound of the 
blood spouting and fizzling into the snow, with the crisp 
sound of the steel in the quivering flesh was hardly nice, 
and when the red carcase sat up and looked at itself, I 
looked up to see if God’s eye was looking. 

Just as Bonnar and Campbell were going to heave the 
skin into the boat with one great lift, the edge of the ice 
broke, and they both went into the water. They clutched 
at the snow ledge and the gunwale of the boat, and we 
pulled them out. Campbell had to come out over the top 
of the gory blubber, and looked a sorry spectacle, as he 
dripped on the snow. He didn’t ‘moind the wettin’’; 
what he objected to was ‘the bloomin’ blood all over his 
bloomin’ clothes.’ What difference it made I could not 
see, as we had been up to the eyes in gore for weeks 
past. 

We only picked up a few seals, and had a great deal 
of rowing, and got back to the ship with appetites that 
made the black penguin mess delicious. 

The skipper is on board the Jason to-night, and she is 


lying about a mile or two to windward. In the evening 


260 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


we had a great function on board. All the way out there 
has been a talk of burning some one’s effigy, but nothing 
came of it till to-night. | 

We, the doctor and I and the skipper’s son, were 
luxuriating before the cabin-stove, reading and brewing 
coffee, enjoying a well-earned repose, when two men came 
aft, and asked me in a mysterious way if I would come 
down the ’tween-decks, and bring my sketch-book and 
bagpipes; they wanted to have a portrait taken. I 
followed them down the main-hatch into the dusk of the 
’tween-decks, and there I saw a ghastly spectacle. A 
man’s figure hung by the neck from one of the beams. 
His eyes were real seal’s eyes, pinned on to a canvas face, 
his nose was made of wood, and he wore spectacles, and a 
goatee beard. Some one had supplied a very ancient 
dungaree suit, and this was stuffed with shavings and 
rope-ends. The whole figure bore a ghastly resemblance 
to one of our company. Braidy supported him on one 
side, for his legs were weak, whilst Harvey added a few 
finishing touches to his face with the ship’s paint. When 
they had finished him and made him as hideous as they 
possibly could, I was asked to draw his portrait. I have 
served my time at that trade, and have drawn many 
types ; but, bar one, this was the ugliest of all my sitters, 
and, though I say it as shouldn’t, my representation of 
their handiwork gave the greatest satisfaction. After the 
portrait was done, a procession was formed, Braidy led it, 
and played a wheezy march on the melodeon, the cook 
played the pipes, and Mason and Harvey supported the 
figure. All the rest of the crew followed in couples arm- 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 261 


in-arm, enjoying the fun like children. They marched 
round the deck till they came to the mate’s cabin, under 
the break of the poop, and there the mate passed sen- 
tence of death on the unfortunate effigy, by hanging at 
the yard-arm. It was then marched round the deck 
once more, very solemnly and slowly, Peter trying hard to 
play ‘ Lochaber no more,’ and Braidy squeezing out some- 
thing like a funeral march. Under the fore-yard a running 
bow-line was drawn round the figure’s neck, and a match 


put to a fuse at the foot of his trousers, and it was hauled 


up to the yard-arm to slow music, and the tune of ‘ Give 


us some time to blow the man down, sung slowly and 
with much feeling. 

It looked gruesome and real, and the great goggle 
eyes glared down at us with a horrible expression. To 
and fro it swung at the yard-arm, with a thin thread of 
smoke waving from its foot against the white frosty 
sky. It was then riddled with Henry bullets, and each 
bullet as it pierced the corpse tore away pieces of rags and 


262 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


stuffing, which fell and floated smoking on the glassy sea. 
Finally, when the remains were all ablaze, and nearly con- 
sumed, a hand lay out on the yard, cut the line, and the 
figure fell into the water with a fizz. 

We caught an Emperor penguin this evening. I was 
on deck enjoying the quiet and beauty of the white night 
when we saw it. The decks are quiet through the night 
watches; the crew walk quietly, and talk in hushed 
voices, partly subdued by the queer, still feeling round 
us, and partly from the reason that if they did make 
a noise, the watch below would turn out to know the 
reason why. Just as I was going to turn in, I spotted 
him on a piece of snow within two or three hundred 
yards. I was anxious to make a drawing from an 
Emperor penguin, so went aft, and let the mate know, and 
he ordered away a boat. The penguin was standing in 
the middle of a round pan of snow-ice about fifty yards in 
diameter, with a hummock at one side. We rowed up to 
this and put two men behind the hummock, and then 
rowed round to the other side, where three of us landed 
and spread out. Then we all five advanced, closing in 
with the penguin as centre of our circle. He got upon 
a mound of snow as we approached, and only looked 
slightly anxious as we drew in; then, evidently thinking 
that his position was dangerous, he tried to get away. 
He slid down the mound of snow on his breast, pud- 
dling away with his flippers and feet. One of our party 
made a successful rush over a hard piece of snow in 
pursuit, and fell on the bird and embraced it, and the 
penguin looked quite shocked, and threw him off with a 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 263 


sort of hitch with its shoulders; then it got up and stood 
on its feet again, and looked at us calmly as we struggled 
after it through the soft snow. When we got near it 
again, five of us made a rush 
at it, and the bo’sun got in 
first, and scragged it with both 
hands round its neck. The 
two rolled over together on 
the snow, and the penguin 
freed its neck and began to 
let drive with its beak at the 
bo’sun’s head, but missed, fortu- 
nately. It had no chance, how- 
ever; we fell on it altogether 
and made it ‘have down.’ Its 


strength astonished us. One 


man held its neck, other two 
got hold of a flipper a-piece, wa oe 
and two others held the legs. erate 
With all our strength we could scarcely keep hold of it; 
and yet it did not seem to be in the least flurried, or put 
out—merely moved its flippers slowly, and drew up and ex- 
tended its short legs, but that nearly twisted our arms off. 
It was too difficult to carry it to the boat this way, so we 
strapped him round the middle, with his flippers down by 
his side. We used the bo’sun’s belt—a broad affair witha 
big brass buckle, and hauled till the penguin collapsed like 
a Gladstone bag. Then we made another belt fast round 
his short legs, and stood up and drew a breath of relief, 
and so did the penguin—a long sigh from the bottom of its 


264 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


chest, and the buckle burst, and it got up and hobbled 
away with the belt still round its legs; it actually hobbled 
with dignity. Then we all sat on it again without any 
ceremony, for we were angry—the penguin remained 
calmly dignified—and fastened him up with some fathoms 
of whale-line that happened to be in the boat, lashed him 
from his bill to his toes all the way down, with marline 
hitches, like a roll of beef, and carried him to the boat 
and dropped him in the line-chest. There he freed one 
flipper just to show what he could do if he tried, but made 
no other effort to escape. On deck the penguin preserved 
his sphinx-like dignity under very novel and trying cir- 
cumstances. All the men stood round him, and marvelled 
at his strange, bulky form ; but he did not take the least 
notice and there was a strange, far-away look in his little 
black eye, as if he saw right back to the days when these 
white shores were clad with the verdure of the tropics and 
there were no glaciers on the black rocks. Fanny, the ship’s 
dog, tried to have a game with it—a most absurd idea! 
She danced round the penguin, bounced against it, and 
vainly tried to tumble it over. At first the penguin merely 
kept the dog off with its flippers, hitting round-arm blows 
with them so quickly that the movements were scarcely 
visible, and puzzled Fanny as to what the game was; then 
Fanny came too close, and the emperor’s pencil-like beak 
went out with a flash and strength that would have punched 
holes in a steel plate, and off went Fanny in no end of a 
hurry, and never came near again, but walked round and 
round the deck as far away as the bulwarks would allow her, 


It was thought the penguin would be in our way on 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 265 


deck, or we would find ourselves in its way, which 
would have been worse, so it was condemned to death. 
It took four hours to kill it, ‘and it wasn’t dead then, 
as some one remarked. It had holes driven through 
its skull, it was beaten with clubs, and it would not die. 
Then out of pity the doctor was called to put it out of 
pain. He sat on its back with confidence and worked 
at its brain, till it lay on the deck apparently lifeless. 
When we saw it two hours afterwards, it was waddling 


about with its head in the air as if it had neuralgia. 


An Emperor Penguin Chase. 


If they take such a very long time to die, they surely 
must have a very long time to live. They certainly 
look with their calm air of all-knowingness as if they 
were born long ages before man ever drew breath. We 
tried to eat these large penguins, but their flesh, even 
when cooked with strong curry, had a very unpleasant 


taste, rather like seal’s flesh, both in taste and colour, but 


266 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


I daresay, if one had to put in a winter here, that a taste 
for them might be developed. 

... You can loaf in the Antarctic when the sun shines, 
just as well as at home, and you can loaf longer, for the 
sun does not set, neither does the dew fall and make you 
uncomfortable at night. I loafed all day, shamelessly, in 
the maintop, enjoying life to its full. From the ship’s deck 
you have quite a limited view of the ice-floes ; when you 
climb up the rigging it spreads and extends till the canals 
of open water, running in and out among the ice islands 
like purple veins, seem to grow narrower and narrower 
till at last they are lost in the distance, and the ice on the 
horizon seems to form a solid field. 

The sea between the islands is of the most delicate 
warm lilac colour, and as smooth as crystal, excepting 
where faint cats’--paws tint the water with a darker 
violet. The scene is so utterly quiet and beautiful that 
it is perfect bliss to sit and look, and inhale the pure, 
sunny air. 

To the west we have a clear view of the land, and see 
several unnamed islands, The Jason is keeping us com- 
pany just now; she is a mile or two to the south, steering 
in and out amongst the ice. At times her black hull is 
hidden by the white blocks, then we see her all perfectly 
reflected. Her boats, like water-spiders, are flitting up 
and down the water lanes; one of them stops against 
an ice island, and the black spider divides into several 
black dots that go straggling over the snow, and a distant 
pop, popping of rifles tells of the death of seals. 

The air is so intensely still that up here in the maintop 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 267 


I can hear the mate’s clock in his cabin ticking the 
seconds; the sound must travel up the taut shrouds 
and backstays. On deck, two or three men are saunter- 
ing up and down, their hands deep in their pockets, 
and high above me I see the bottom of the crow’s- 
nest, and over its edge the telescope, ever on the 
watch for seals. I think we have killed about seventy- 
five seals to-night; but the great black whale we came 
for has not yet put in an appearance. F inners there 
are in any number—they all show the annoying fin on 
their backs, and none of them lie on the water’s surface 
after the manner of the right whale. 

A number of grampus were seen to-day ; and we think 
that they are perhaps keeping the right whales far inside 
the ice, as they do in the north, where the whales will rather 
drown under the floes than venture into the neighbour- 
hood of their deadly enemy. 

A school of these sea pirates came swimming down on 
us from the northwards, their gaff-topsails, as Jack calls 
their dorsal fins, showing high above the water. Whales 
and penguins fled before them, the penguins leaping 
like shoals of 


the finners 


mackerel, and 
blowing along 
in great fright. The penguins 
first ice they 
and toddled 


tre as fast as 


got on to the 


met, for safety, 


into the cen- 
their little legs would carry them. Two of the finners 
passed under us; one put his black back out of water 


under our counter—I could have dropped on his back— 


268 FROM EDINBURGH ‘TO THE ANTARCTIC 


and the other went wagegling below our keel. It was an 
uncanny-looking beast, down in the dark water, huge and 
long, of a greenish white colour; it was fully thirty yards 
long. 

To-day we found another black seal full of fish and 
penguins. It is a wonder these penguins continue to 
exist with such powerful and numerous.enemies. A few 
sheathbill came about the ship to-night; they seem to 
move about in the evening more than in the day, though 
we see them at all hours. 

It is a strange sight to see such pretty white birds 
feeding on raw, bloody flesh. I have been told by the 
men that they had seen some with red breasts; but I 
rather think the red must have been caused by the blood 
of the seals. We often see them standing on the snow 
beside living seals. Fresh meat must surely be quite an 
exceptional diet with them. 

This has been the most dismal New Year's Eve that 
I trust any of our ship’s company have spent or ever 
will spend, but to go into the cause of the gloom 
would be here too long a matter. 


GRA PIR.” 2oMie 


UNDAY, 1st /an. 1893.—Of all the hypocritical, 
canting humbugs in the wide world the Lowland 
Scotch sectarian is out and away the worst. The bigotry 
without the justice of his covenanting forebears has 
surely come down to him wi’ muckle aggrandisement. 
Would any one who knows what a Sunday in Dundee 
means, believe that a crew from that godly, radical 
town would be ordered to put aside the laws of 
God to work at seal- 
ing on the Sabbath day? 
Yet so it is, and we 
are told that for this Old 
Testament law-breaking 
we have the sanction of 
a worthy Presbyterian 
minister. Killing seals 
is to-day ‘a wark o’ na- 


cesseety, and the crew 


who have been killing 


seals all week, day and 


night, are sent off dog- 


tired to paint the snow 


vermilion. 
Though sealing is ‘a wark o’ nacesseety,’ bawbees 


being gained thereby, ‘drawing picturrs on the: Lord’s 
269 


270 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


Day o’ Rest is an awfie-like thing!’ This I am told very 
clearly and explicitly, and have to do reverence to the 
Creator’s works by painting from memory in the privacy 
of my bunk, as represented in the sketch, cursing at the 
same time the length of my legs and the interference with 
the purest form of worship. . 

We steamed from Erebus and Terror Bay N.E. with 
a strong current from the N.E., that swung the ice along 
at four miles an hour. It was jammed together at one 
time, then drifted out in long streams, whirling past 
us round bergs, piled piece over piece. We have had 
thumping and crushing enough to crack the nether mill- 
stone, yet the boats were sent out sealing, though the 
Balzena could scarcely make her own way. How the men 
cursed! Just as one of the boats had managed to come 
up astern, some ragged ‘snow islands of all sizes swept 
together and enclosed it. We thought to see her nipped 


into nothing, but the crew jumped on to the ice and hauled 


her into a little space between the white teeth before 
they closed, where the boat was safe, though she could not 
get out. We left them there, as it was difficult enough to 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 271 


get the ship out of the jam, and by and bye the ice opened 
a little, and the black spot of struggling figures, by dint of 
much poling and shoving, made its escape and rowed up 
astern and got hold of a tow-line, and we steamed out of 
the swirling currents. 

About six P.M. we were again in the neighbourhood of 
the Danger Islands. Before coming to them we had a good 
view of the high mountains in Louis Philippe Land ; they 
seemed to me nearly as high as Mount Haddington, with 
sharp peaks and some small patches of black rock showing 
through the coating of glaciers. These were hidden by 
mist when we sailed south. As they are not put down by 
Ross in his chart, I suppose we are the first who have ever 
seenthem. I made a drawing of them as they appeared— 
dull yellow against a clear band of primrose sky above 
them, a canopy of ridged grey clouds just touching one 
of the peaks. Their outlines reminded me of the peaks 
in Arran. 

As we neared and passed Cape Fitzroy, I saw what I 
take to be the pillar that Sir James Ross called D'Urville’s 
monument, after the French navigator. It resembled a 
lighthouse covered with snow, and rose from the sloping 
S.W. shore of Joinville Land ; it was hidden by the high 
land on the south point of Joinville Land as we steamed 
north ; I should think it was a little under a hundred feet 
high. I may say, however, that guessing heights and dis- 
tances in these latitudes across water is more difficult 
here, owing to the atmospheric effects, thanitisat home. I 
certainly would never have thought that Mount Hadding- 
ton, which Ross puts down at 7050 feet, was nearly so high. 


272 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


In his chart, Ross shows no island at the south end of 
Joinville Land where D’Urville marked an isle ‘supposée.’ 
He thought D’Urville had seen this point only and not the 
low land round it, and so assumed that there was an 
island. Ross finding, as he thought, D’Urville in error, 
gallantly named the pinnacle D’Urville’s monument, ‘in 
memory of that enterprising navigator. But Captain 
Robertson of the Active, by sailing round this land, has 
proved the ‘Isle Supposée’ does exist ; probably the Firth, 
called Firth of Tay by Captain Robertson, was filled with 
bergs when Ross passed, and so he would have no idea 
there was an island here. 

In the evening we were about nine miles N.E. of the 
most southerly of the Danger islets. Here we were on 
comparatively open water, with only scattered pieces of 
pack-ice, and the bergs were few and low. These bergs, 
about fifty and eighty feet above water, had apparently 
come off the coast opposite us. 

All night we steered about E. by N. At midnight we 
passed a small dome-shaped ice island, sea-washed and 
very slippery, with a regiment of penguins standing at 
attention on the top of it. As our game larder needed 
replenishing, we dropped a boat with two guns, and shot 
down the regiment. It was a very sad sight to see the 


poor beasts shot down; they had 


not the least a idea how to es- 
cape this unfa- ma miliar danger. 
Even when they p : were wounded 
and fell down 


the slippery ice- 


banks into the water, they immediately struggled to get 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 273 


on to the ice again to join their companions. The 
jumps they give out of the water are astonishingly high ; 
three feet seems to be an easy jump, but I have often 
seen them fail at higher attempts. 

At the same time I shot a tern of a kind that I have 
not seen elsewhere ; but, much to my regret, there was no 
time to pick it up. I also shot two sheathbills that were 
either with the penguins at first, or came and joined the 
battle; they fed on the blood as we shot the penguins. 
These are the only land animals known to exist in the 
Antarctic ; close at hand their dove-like characteristics 
disappear, and the flesh-eating character shows itself. 
They are about the size of a bantam hen, with grey- . 
coloured, strong legs, and feet something like a hen’s or an 
oyster-catcher’s; the bill is deep, sharp-pointed, curved 
above and below, and strong, the colour, grey-green, and 
yellow. Over its base there is a sort of sheath that gives 
the bird its name ; round the base of the sheath and round 
its beady black eye there is a whity-pink coloured wattle, 
something like that of a carrier-pigeon’s. They have a 
bony excrescence at the joint of their wings that corre- 
sponds to the wrist. On skinning them I was astonished 
at the strength of their bones and muscles, and especially 
at the very small amount of fat and feathering they have 
to protect them from the cold. A common wood-pigeon 


has more feathers on it. 


Monday, 2nd Jan—Kept steaming along the pack- 
edge E. by N. all night, picking up seals. This morning 
they were very numerous—ten, twelve, and twenty on a 

iS) 


274 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


piece ; the men just walked in amongst them, tapped them 
on the back with the muzzle of their rifle until they lifted 
their heads and received the bullet. 

We have found it necessary to take the whale-lines out 
of the boats; and now all the whaling-boats are working 
amongst the seals. They are constantly going off the 
ship and coming back gunwale deep with seal-skins and 
blubber. 


Tuesday, 3rd.—Seals lying all round ; the crew working 
like niggers! Every skin means the fraction of a farthing 
into their pockets, therefore they sweat at their oars and 
slash at the skins, half blind with blood, with the blaze of 
white light, and fatigue. Many of the seals are diseased, 
they have festering sores under the flippers and other parts. 
The men’s hands are constantly being cut, and some of 
these cuts fester, probably with the matter from the sores. 
But we aft have not suffered, though cut often enough ; 
the difference in our diets may account for this. The men 
call their sores ‘ pusey’ fingers. 

This afternoon the doctor and I worked the steam winch 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 275 


fora change. As the boats come alongside we heave over 
some long strops into the boats, The men in the boat run 
these rope rings through the holes in the skins, where 
the flippers have been—the arm-holes of the seal’s waist- 
coats, as it were—then both ends of the strop are looped 
over a hook that is fast to a line that runs through a block 
above the main-hatch and comes down to the drum of the 
winch at the foot of the mainmast. When the men in the 
boat shout, he at the winch lets steam on, and up comes 
the bunch of bloody skins which are flopped down on the 
main-deck ; the second hand on deck then unhooks the 
strop, hauls it out of the seal-skins, runs to the bulwarks 
with it, and drops it over into the boat along with the line 
and hook. Done against time this means plenty of exer- 
cise: as the pile of skins rises higher and higher, the 
second man has to stumble up and down the heap of 
sliding skins to get hold of the strops. To-night the 
decks are piled some five feet high with skins. 


Wednesday, 4th.—Just as wewere beginning breakfast this 
morning, a hand came down the after-hatch and whispered 
with an awe-struck voice: ‘There’s a whale lying along- 
side, sir” Whalers are only accustomed to see the Bowhead 
lying on the water, so you can imagine the excitement! 
Up the hatch every one went hatless into the wind and 
snow, and stared from the stern at the great beast’s back. 
There it was /yzng, sure enough, with the dark ripple 
lapping against it ; but there was an unmistakable spinal 
tidge down its back that the right whale does not have. 


It was just the colour and shape of an enormous elephant’s 


276 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


back. After lying quite still for some time, it rolled over 
and showed a very small fin not far from his tail. 

We wonder if Sir James Ross mistook these whales for 
the Bowhead ; with his great experience in the Arctic we 
scarcely think it likely, and hold to the belief that he was 
right, and that the £3000 whale, with its round smooth 
black back, is still here could we but find it. 

It is cold and damp, and the seals stay below water, so 
we have time to make off the blubber from the seal-skins 
on deck. Making off is the term for cutting the blubber 
from the skin. I daresay the drawing I have made shows 
how it is done better than my writing. 

It is a busy scene that goes on all day on deck. 
Immediately after meals all hands turn up on deck with 
their pipes going ; they are muffled up with cravats, and 
have their collars turned up and the ear-flaps of their caps 
pulled down. Then all get their knives out of their wooden 
sheaths, and there is a great rustling as they whet them on 
their steels, and every one sets to work. The old hands 
stand behind upright boards on which the seal-skins are 
hung, half on each side of the board, blubber side up. They 
cut from left to right, with a crisp, greasy, swish-swish at 
each sweep of the thin flat blade. The blubber curls 
off in yellow folds, and falls on deck, and a boy throws it 
with a small pitch-fork into the tanks. Other boys pre- 
pare the skins for the old hands; they catch the lumps of 
flesh that have been left on the blubber in the hasty skin- 
ning on the snow with a steel hook and cut it off. At first 
there is plenty of talk, and jests fly about, then gradually 
the talk quiets down, and there is little sound but the 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 277 


breathing of the knives and the clang of the blubber falling 
into the metal tanks. 

... The men are very tired. Days of constant work 
with poor food, hastily swallowed, has told on them 


sadly—their faces are drawn and their eyes blood-shot ; 


oe 


they are tired, but they work away cheerily. They will 
have a share in the profits! Such a share, enough to 
keep one in cigarettes for a month. They don’t like 
this work on deck so well as being out in the boats— 
they feel the cold more. Several of them are filled with 


278 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


rheumatism, and most have festering hands, and many 
have scanty clothing. 

Each group of lads tries to make ready more skins than 
the neighbouring group, and the man at the board vies 
with the man next him in the number of skins he makes 
off. It is tedious, back-breaking, profitless work all this, 
and it astonishes me to see men take it all so easily. Is 
it not a fortunate thing for society that so much content- 
ment comes with hard work? 

To-night Mr. Adams and I went off with a crew in a 
four-oar Norwegian boat, belonging to the Jason, that was 
hanging astern, and picked up an unusually large white 
seal, one of the kind that we have killed so many of lately. 
There was something especially grand about this particular 
seal. He lay resting on a bank of low-toned snow, and 
behind him a purple black cloud formed a background, 
dark and soft as a velvet curtain. When we were within 
twenty yards he raised his head and shoulders above the 
snow-bank and looked down on us with calm wonder in 
his courageous black eyes. Near him was a family of 
penguins, with their backs toward us, taking not the least 
notice of our approach. The black lips, eyes, and nostrils 
of the seal, and the blue-black of the penguins’ backs, were 
the black touches in this perfect picture of primeval peace. 
... Up went the rifle—crack—and the bullet entered the 
beautiful dog-like face, and the picture was ripped up. 

How mean and ugly we of the world of people feel in this 
lovely world of white beauty, making bullets sing through 
the cold, silent air, fouling the snow with blood and soot. 

... All the majesty and beauty of the seal has gone; it 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 279 


is only pitiful now, lying on its back, its nostrils wide and 
quivering, its dark ox-like eyes trembling in agony as the 
knife tears down its white skin. Up and down slashes 
the merciless steel, between the hot black flesh and the 
yellow blubber, blood pours gurgling from the severed 
arteries and spirts in fine red spray at every cut, 


steaming in the frosty air. The poor stupid family of 


penguins waddle away, looking over their shoulders at us, 


wondering what the deuce it all means. 


Thursday, 5th Jan—Another day of mist, soft as 
thistle-down, The ice looms faint and grey, a light wind 
comes from the north, and a few snow-flakes are falling, 
settling in the frozen folds of the grey sails. Icicles are 
formed on the black shrouds and stays, and fall at times, 


clashing on deck. There is no use keeping a look-out 


280 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


for seals from the crow’s-nest to-day—the fog up there is 
thicker than on deck. So the Mjolnar! is allowed to 
drift south with the ice and snow, her head pointing 
east and her wheel lashed, Occasionally we steam up 
wind or ahead to clear ice. Tall bergs show faint and 
ghost-like through the mist to leeward. 


I saw the Jason close alongside one of these bergs, and 


 


its height was fully twice that of her masts. 

All hands are working hard at making off, and the pile 
of skins is reduced to a few feet high ; the object is to get 
the decks cleared against the next sunny day, when the 
seals will come on to the ice to bask. 

I am surprised there are so few birds about us, when 


1 Mjolnar is the name on our counter now. The Atlantic waves rubbed 
off the painted name Balena, and washed the plaster of Paris out of the 
carving of our vessel’s old name, so we are Thors Hammer once again. 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 281 


there is so much seals’ flesh being constantly thrown over 
the side. Only a few Cape pigeons fly round us, picking 
up the scraps. One or two terns have passed, and a 
white bird, slightly bigger than a sheathbill, with black 
speckles on its back, is gorging on the seals’ cran as it is 
thrown overboard. Only naturalists can appreciate how 
intensely aggravating it is to have these strange birds so 
near and yet to be unable to identify them for want of a 
boat. We greatly regret not having brought a Berthon 
boat for such purpose. Dr. Donald thought of this at 


the Falklands, but the price of anything there that will 
float is prohibitive. A punt scarcely worth £3 on the 
Clyde was offered for 415. 


Sunday, 8th Jan.—Went sealing in the Spectioneer’s 
boat yesterday. What a glorious day we spent away from 
the ship in the dazzling white sunlight. Our first care in 
the morning was to see that the biscuit-keg and the water- 
breaker were full. Each boat has a keg, filled with biscuits 
and a piece of cheese, only to be opened in case of emer- 
gencies. We pulled away from the ship about 8 A.M. 
Allan rowed bow and told tales, as he pulled, with pawky 


282 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


Scotch humour and the high Peterhead voice. Braidy 
steered, and bubbled over with Irish fun all the time, 
encouraging his crew to lay out. The warm sun had 
brought the seals up in numbers. We killed about thirty 
on one piece of ice. Hard and hot work it was flinching 
them and dragging their skins over the waist-deep snow, 
By twelve o’clock we were down to the gunwale with 


skins and as hungry as hawks—a case of ‘ heros peut-étre 


A Chip off an Antarctic Berg. 


mats les ventres avant tout; and the ship-biscuit that we 
could scarcely break at breakfast melted between our 
teeth, and how deliciously sweet the half frozen water 
tasted, sucked out of the bunghole of the breaker ! 
Several times we were jammed in the ice, and once the 
boat was nearly smashed up; as it was, the gunwales were 
squeezed in till they looked as if they would take the 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 283 


shape of a figure 8. We had been trying to get at three 
seals that lay on the top of an overhanging ledge of snow, 
and as we were struggling to climb on to this, the floe 
came up from behind and hemmed us in. The tongues 
of ice that project under water from the cakes overlapped 
each other, and we found ourselves squeezed out of the 
water. After about an hour's struggling the floe opened 
a little, and we at last managed to get out of the hole by 
dint of much shoving and pulling, and got away minus 
some rollock-pins plus a deck cargo of loaf-sugar snow. 

A great number of whales were blowing in every direc- 
tion, filling the air with the sound of sighing. All round the 
horizon the jets of steam puffed up from behind the white 
islands and hung in the air more like whiffs of cigarette 
smoke than the ponderous spouts you see in whaling 
pictures. Sometimes the black backs rolled so close 
as to threaten us with a capsize, and we had to put 
bullets into them to keep them off. By two o’clock we 
had sixty-five skins in the boat, and the water was lapping 
over the gunwale. As the ship seemed to have no inten- 
tion of coming to us we had to go to it, and having so 
many skins on board we had to sit tailorwise on the top 
of them—an uncommonly awkward position to row in. 
After about two hours’ pulling we came alongside and 
clambered on board by the chain-plates, and some of the 
men who had got back to the ship before us, and had 
swallowed their dinner, came into our boat and discharged 
the skins for us. About five minutes after, as it seemed 
to me, Allan came aft, and lost his good opinion of me 


when I absolutely refused to leave my penguin stew: not 


284 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


having even a fractional interest in the proceeds of the 
voyage, it seemed to me advisable to do a little drawing 
when life was possible on board ship. But my good 
intentions came to nothing: the other boats began coming 
in with their second loads, and with hungry, tired crews, 
and as all hands were working in the boats or laid up, 
Nick and I had to string the skins on to the strops whilst 
our scientific friend spent his time working the winch ; it 
was 8 P.M. by the time the last boat was emptied and 
hauled up on the davits, and I again turned my attention 
from blubber to esthetics. 

The evening was marvellously beautiful. North of us 
the floating ice was reflected in a calm grey sea; each 
island delicately tinted with rose. In the south the sea 
was crossed and patched with ice streams and islands 
which showed purple against the reflected gold of the 
evening sky. Before bringing out paints I lit my pipe in 
my kennel and sat down, sea-boots, wet clothes, and all— 
just for three or four whiffs, and less than forty winks, 
and never moved an inch till I opened my eyes and heard 


Nick knocking and saying, ‘ Breakfast ’s on the table, sir.’ 


Sunday, 15th January.—Ueavy fog to-day, so there is 
no sealing. The crews are having a change of work; they 
are now busy clearing the coals out of the tanks to make 
room for blubber. Whales are sighing round us; they 
seem to go in couples, and rise and breathe almost 
together, each making one half of a huge, weary, melan- 
choly sigh, with about half a note between the two. We 
can only see the ice a few yards from the ship. Some- 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 285 


times we can make out the penguins’ black backs, whilst 


the snow beneath them is indistinguishable from the mist. 


Monday.—Still wrapped in mist... . One of the boats 
is lost. The mist lifted a little, and some seals were seen 
and a boat sent off. It fell immediately, and we lost sight 
of the boat. For a time we heard the shots, and then they 
seemed utterly lost... . We keep the fog-horn booming 
its muffled note every two or three minutes. It seems 
hopeless to send sound through these misty walls. In the 
silence that follows, the white petrels flitting past us seem 
more silent and moth-like than usual. 

Towards evening the thermometer went up to 35°, the 
highest point it has reached since we entered the ice. 
Later a faint air came from the south and soon brought it 
down below freezing again. As the cold air lifted the 
mist it showed us the foot of a berg a few hundred yards 
from us, its blue and grey sides wrinkled and puckered 
into many folds of pale blue and white. The lift in the 
mist helped us to pick up the boat. 

The Polar Star has turned up at last. We thought she 
had turned back or foundered. As the mist rose she 
appeared on the pack-edge threading her way towards 
us under sail through the loose ice. We hauled up our 
ensign and steamed towards her, playing on the pipes, as 
is our wont here on great occasions. As she came 
alongside there was much cheering. Most of our men 
have acquaintances on board, and some have brothers. 
She left Dundee two days after us and went down the 
English Channel and escaped all the bad weather we 


286 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


started with. The master is Captain Davidson, called by 
the crew Polar Davidson, to distinguish him from—the 
other—Davidson of the Diana. 

To-night the skins are being salted and rolled up and 
stowed away in the fore-peak—a mightily strong place, a 
labyrinth of huge beams and knees which support the 


ship to stand the shock of running into ice. 


Tuesday, 10th.—The first good southerly breeze we 
have had since we made the ice ; the light air we had last 
night from the S.E. has risen to a strong wind. Though 
it is blowing hard, the ice to the south shelters us and 
keeps the water so smooth that we scarcely roll enough to 
spill a glass of water. I made a picture this morning of 
the Active beside a large berg—a grounded berg, I believe.t 

5 P.M.—Strong wind S. by W., yet the thermometer 
is at 334°. I should have thought a southerly wind here 
would be certainly very cold. The short, choppy waves 
are wearing away the edges of the ice-pans, and the sea 
is littered with the small pieces of ice that break off. 

We are steaming S.W. to-night through the pack so as 
to get back to Erebus Gulf from the south and so avoid 
the strong currents about Danger Islands. It is most 
aggravating beating like this about the same ground. Un- 
fortunately our instructions are to hunt for whales where 


Ross saw them, instead of far and wide, as I had hoped, 


1 The reader must draw on his fancy for the colouring: the clouds soft 
warm grey, the crags of the berg to the right a purple lead colour, the slope 
dull white; the berg to the left pale violet, with two or three upright 
clefts of deep blue, along the top an edge of pure white; between the bergs 
a third appears light emerald green. The floating ice in front, some parts 
creamy-white, like broken marrons, others dead marble-white, and two or 
three of vivid sky-blue, frosted with white; the sea an umber colour, with 
lavender sheen. 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 287 


and to these instructions we attend almost to the letter ; 
there may be whales within fifty miles, but we may not 
go in search of them. This southerly wind must be open- 
ing the pack far south, and I believe that were we to 
head inthe direction of Weddell’s track, which was a little 
to the east of us, we could reach far farther south than he 
ventured with his small, unprotected, sailing ship. He 


passed through a belt of pack-ice and bergs in the Sixties 


and reached lat. 74°S., and found the air was as warm 
there as in 64°, also innumerable blue petrels and a sea 
free of ice ! 

9 P.M.—The wind is blowing up the mist from the 
southern horizon, leaving a long band of yellow under the 


canopy of grey. The rigging is freezing as hard as iron. 


Wednesday, t1th.—A most beautiful morning—the air 
clear as crystal, sky pale blue, bordered and ribbed with 


288 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


soft grey clouds. The sea’s surface is a pale, pinky 
violet. In the west we see Mount Haddington for the 
second time, but viewed from a more southerly point than 
before. For a few hours I kept myself at work sketching 
below in my bunk, then gave in to the temptation to 
merely enjoy nature without caricaturing her. I climbed 
up to the crow’s-nest and enjoyed the view of wild rocks 
and black cliffs and glaciers. The land lay distant about 
eight miles, but. the cliffs and snow slopes were so large 
and the air so clear that they seemed much closer. The 
Active lay underneath the mountain, close to the reddish- 
coloured rocky islands that lie to the south of the 
entrance to Admiralty Inlet ; she had stayed here waiting 
for whales whilst we were sealing. The view of these 
dark cliffs, each topped with its white ice cap, towering 
terrace above terrace till they disappeared in the over- 
hanging clouds, was grand in the extreme. Feathery soft 
clouds hung like smoke on the-black faces, and blew up the 
wild white gorges in fantastic swirls. The clouds hid the 
crags at about 4000 feet, but beneath them we could see 
part of the snow slope leading up to the greatest height. 
We see the land stretching for some thirty miles to the 
S.W.,, low and undulating, covered with a white sheet of 
snow, with only two table-topped crags jutting out of the 
whiteness. This seems to extend some fifty miles, and 
sweeps into the sea in a very gradual slope, and then 
must sweep round to the west, giving me the impression 
that there is a deep inlet running west, or a strait into 
Hughes Bay. Farther to the S.E. a stretch of unbroken 


smooth ice extends some twenty miles in an easterly 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 289 


direction, with a fall of some thirty feet at its edge—the 
field-ice, probably, that Ross saw; but beyond it to the 
S.E. I can see open water." 

We have just had a glimpse of this land never seen by 
man, and now we are turning back again. Is it possible 
to conceive anything more heart-breaking? From what 
we see here, and before us, we feel confident we could 
sail S.E., or S. by E., without the least difficulty. The ice 
we have come through seems closer than that which lies 
before us. I think this ice that we have been in lately 
forms a long tail or stream of floes and bergs in the lee 
of Trinity, Joinville Land, and the South Shetlands, col- 
lected by currents through Bransfield Straits and the 
prevailing south-westerly winds and the currents from 
the South of Trinity Land. Once through this pack 
ice we could make the open water Weddell found to the 
east. This ice we are in just now, which barred the pro- 
gress of Ross’s sailing vessels, is no obstacle to us with 
our auxiliary steam power. 

Is it not incomprehensible why so much interest has been 
shown in Arctic exploration, where all the difficulties of 
making progress are well known, where scientific questions 
are practically exhausted, whilst no general interest is taken 
in these Antarctic regions, where there are no difficulties 
known in the way of discovery, and the answers to the 
magnetic, meteorological, and geographical questions of 
the day are to be read by the first explorers ? 

Would that I owned this ship and this good crew even 


for three summer months in the Antarctic, Just such a 


1 The bearings in this paragraph are not from compass. 
a 


290 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


vessel as this could be chartered and fitted out with men, 
scientists, provisions, and all necessaries for a year’s ex- 
ploration for about 45000, If monetary profit was to be 
considered, 5 per cent. might be reasonably expected for 
seal skins and oil, and of course there is the chance of 
meeting Bowheads worth £3000 a piece. One vessel, or 
two in consort, could chart the whole of the unknown 
Southern Continent. Think of this, ye rich who dream 
of knighthood and more riches! For £10,000 this chance 
is going, cheap, I call it—a chance to write your names 
in Big Type on the maps of the world. Think of this, 
ye gentlemen of England who yacht at Cowes in ease, 
the chance is going—going ; and if you don’t bid for the 
South Pole, some bold Yankee and his fair lady will be 
down there before you get under way, and then—there 
will be no new place under the sun! 

There is a proposal at present to send a Government 
expedition—a great idea, let us all assist to promote it! 
But if, as has happened before, Government is laggard, 
let private effort come to its place in the front. Surely 
we have wealth enough and men enough. What is 


wanted is a man to put the two together." 


... We make a party of four to-day in the ice. The 


1 Tf any one who reads this feels inclined to send or take such an expedition, 
I will be very glad to look out for one or two well-protected barques. I 
know of just the right sort of man for master, and a first-rate Scotch crew 
could be picked up easily. Practical young scientists of the newest school 
are waiting the chance. I have given a large estimate—a less expensive 
expedition might do great things and make profit. As this goes into print, 
I hear a Norwegian whaler is reported to have seen a Bowhead, or right 
whale, in the Antarctic. 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 291 


Jason is lying alongside, the Diana has joined us, and the 
Polar Star came up from the south under canvas, sailing 
in and out amongst the ice, her topsails showing dark 
against the white sky; she has such small engines that 
she has generally to carry some sail. The Active has 
not come to the meeting; but the Diana’s crew gave 
us an account of her doings in the early part of this 
day. For reasons unknown, one of her boats made 
fast to one of those whales that have been constantly 
blowing round us; probably the harpooneer was tired 
of waiting for the right whale, and felt that he must kill 
something, so let drive at the nearest finner. The result 
was that the whale went off in a bee-line with the three 
lines in the boat; a second boat followed and made 
fast, and again the whale made off, with three more lines, 
that is, with 720 fathoms in all, or 1440 yards of two-inch 
rope trailing behind it—beats salmon-fishing, doesn’t it? 
To save the first lines a third boat fired another harpoon 
into the whale, and this time the line was brought on 
board ship; and the ends of the other two lines were also 
picked up and brought on board, and away went the 
procession in tow of the whale, the three boats hanging 
astern! It must have been a beautiful sight! The whale 
towed them along at a good rate, and rockets were fired 
into it whenever there was a chance, but it only showed 
its nether end above water, so their effect was only to 
make it go faster. After fourteen hours’ play the engines 
were reversed and the lines broke, and the whale went 
away ‘with half Jock Tod’s smithy shop in its tail.” This 


is the account given by the crew of the Diana; possibly 


292 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


the men of the Active would give a more graphic descrip- 
tion. We were also told that the whale towed the Active 
on a sunken rock; but whether this happened actually in 
the pursuit or after the battle is not clear. 

The four masters are on board now, and have come to 
the conclusion that we must make the best of a bad 
business, fill up with oil and seal-skins, and call for salt to 
preserve the skins at Monte Video or some other port, 
then up stick and away home. 

I think that almost every one in the fleet still believes 
that Sir James Ross could not have been mistaken about 
seeing right whales here, though, unfortunately, we have 
not had such luck; and I think every one feels that it 
would have been as well to stop at home as to come out 
here and potter about in one spot waiting for the whales 
to come alongside. Of course the masters of the vessels 
are not responsible for the half measures. They would 
undoubtedly hunt far and wide if the instructions from 
home did not bind them down to one quarter. 


I must jump over some days in my journal, as my daily 
notes seem all so much alike that the reading of them 
must be tedious. Not that any two days here are alike 
—far from it. Each has its own strange effects: solemn, 
heavy, misty days,—bright days when the sun blazes 
down on us, tanning us red-brick, quite a different colour 
from the mahogany-brown of the tropical tan—cold, windy 
days, with the wind humming through the frozen shrouds, 
when we hug the lee of a pack or iceberg and think of 


home, and fires, and warm rooms. The changes come 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 293 


very rapidly. Whenever the wind goes to the north it 
brings down thick fog and wet snow. We seem to be 
just south of a belt of stormy cloud and mist which we 
can see hanging over the ice-edge to the north, ready to 
sweep down on us, The wind that comes from the 
south brings clear, bracing weather, cold, but pleasant 
and invigorating, with very little snow, and that fine and 
dust-like. I feel sure that if we were farther into the 
ice we should find the climate healthier. 

We have had a good deal of sickness on board lately, 
partly owing to the sudden changes of temperature, and 


partly to the constant exposure and hard work. I think 


Lost in the Fog. 


every one on board has been knocked up. The common 
complaint is an extremely painful griping in the stomach, 
coming on very suddenly—a sort of dysentery ; some of 


the men have been very much pulled down with it. 


Saturday, 21st January—This was a day full of par- 


204 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


ticularly fine effects, with mist hanging over the ice like a 
muslin veil, the sun shining through, lighting the blue 
feet of the bergs and the packed ice with many tints. 
The Jason and our barque pushed their way through 
the pack, sometimes within a few hundred yards of each 
other, their boats skirmishing on either flank. From the 
boats the effects of the dark ships coming looming out of 
the mist with their tall spars and rigging lost in the thick- 
ness aloft, and the vague figures of the men appearing and 
disappearing in the fog on the ice islands was beautiful in 
the extreme. 

In the evening, when the seals had gone off the ice, we 
lay at rest, with wonderfully beautiful pack-ice stretching 
round us as far as the eye could reach; islands all shapes 
and all pale colours, white, blue and creamy, hollowed 
with green caves and fringed with icicles, jammed 
together into the most lovely disorder. The Jason lay a 
quarter of a mile off. After tea they began making a 
tremendous uproar on board her, firing harpoon-guns, 
blowing fog-horns, and shouting altogether at times. We 
thought one of her boats had not returned, had got 
jammed in the ice, perhaps, and the row was intended to 
give the crew an idea where the ship was. So the pipes 
were ordered up to help the din and wailed into the white 
silence. By and bye a boat came off from the Jason, and 
the first mate came up over our side and asked us to 
come aboard. It was their king’s birthday they were 
celebrating, and there was no boat lost. We were in- 
vited to join in the celebration, and were not long before 
we had our best rags on and the rough of the blood off 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 295 


our faces and hands. Then we jumped into a boat, well 
pleased with the prospect of our ‘evening out’ As we 
rowed across to the Norwegian, the whale-guns rigged 
round her bulwarks were going off merrily, and the oakum 
wads smoked on the still water. 

Captain Larsen received us on the poop with Norwegian 
welcome, and we got down into the cabin to the tune 
of ‘’Way down the Swanee River, played on an organ 
on deck. They really do things well on a Norwegian 
whaler, and it seemed by the variety of provision below 
as if the Jason had just left port the day before. There 


was milk, just like fresh milk, rusks and liqueurs and all 


sorts of good things, and such coffee—nothing to speak 
of in Norway, but what a contrast to our noxious mixture 
on the Balna! 

Captain Larsen is a good royalist, and we drank a great 
skald to the king of Gammel Norge, and another to our 


296 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


own crowned head, and then we drank success to Nansen 
and his bold adventure... . 

Once before I joined in a toast to Royalty in circum- 
stances even more peculiar than these—in Paris, in Les 
Invalides. 

Rather a sudden leap this from the Antarctic to Paris, 
but please allow me a little change of scene; it is so 
tedious always writing about snow, and mist, and bleed- 
ing seals. 

C., an artist, and I were at the above School of De- 
pravity on a Sunday in February. We had been trying 
very hard and very long to learn to draw, and were tired 
in spirit, and did not know what to do. ‘Let’s go to 
Les Invalides, said C., and I also said ‘Let’s go,’ for it 
was a splendid idea—nobody having been there before 
that we knew of. 

The dome of Les Invalides looks pretty in the distance, 
especially when you see the gold against a grey wintry 
sky, with a few brown leaves dangling on the button-wood 
branches in the foreground ; but inside it is a sepulchre, a 
deserted barrack, as chilling and wet as a sea fog. 

We mooned round it for an hour or two, and interested 
ourselves slightly in the armour room, and then asked an 
old man who the statue of the little man with the cocked 
hat in the courtyard was supposed to be; when he said 
Napoleon, we feebly asked him who that was, and if he was 
dead, and the old man seemed to be as depressed with the 
antiquity of our joke as we were ourselves with the dismal 
surroundings. Just as we were going out, however, we 


lighted on something really interesting, that brought up 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 297 


the past with a jerk. It was the Invalides themselves, 
Some twenty of them seated in groups at tables down 
a low-roofed room with the winter sun slanting into it 
through a line of low windows. The men were all very 
old, and all dressed alike in long black coats and stock 
collars. Some were smoking thoughtfully, and some had 
little glasses of cognac before them. I suppose it was a sort 
of bar, and this was the men’s weekly treat. They looked 


so drowsy and harmless that C. and I ventured in and 


sat down at a table beside one of the oldest. He wasa 
grim old ruin, and sat by himself, bolt upright, looking 
straight before him, with his skinny hands resting on his 
stick, I do not think he knew we were there till we 
spoke to him, and asked an attendant to bring three erzts 
verres of cognac. At first he only answered us shortly 
in a hollow, deep voice, like the wind in a cannon’s 
mouth; but after a while his memory wakened and his 


298 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


voice rose, and he told us of battles by land and sea, 
of fighting, of cutting of throats, and of bodies thrown 
over ships’ sides. It was not easy to understand more 
than the drift of what he said, for his words were mumbled 
and his patos was unfamiliar. But we let him go on, 
listening intently till his voice died away and he sat 
silent and grim. We waited for him to begin again, 
but he had gone too far back in memories of the past 
to speak to us. Then C. leant towards him and asked 
him in his gentle, rather weak voice, ‘ Aimez-vous la 
Republique?’ and you should have seen how he wakened 
up! It was not a sudden awakening, but a sort of thaw ; 
a light kindled in his grey eyes ; the wrinkles twitched ; 
three times he spat on the floor; and then his square 
mouth opened, a hole in a death’s-head, and a great 
hoarse voice came out, ‘A BAS LA REPUBLIQUE—VIVE LE 
ROI!—VIVE NAPOLEON !’ 

The other old men stirred a little when they heard the 
call, and a slight murmur went round and fell, and the 
room was quiet again, Then we three—the two nouveaux 
and the old soldier—raised our fetzts verres to the fame 
of the hero. 

The old fellow’s hand trembled as he raised his, and he 
seemed to be looking so intently into the past that I do 
not think he noticed that his glass was already empty. 


. Now—I feel better—after this little change from 
the ice to Paris, and come back to my log-writing with 
renewed patience. 

We had heard of Nansen and of his proposed venture 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 299 


at the Falklands. Naturally, whalers are greatly in- 
terested in his adventure, and as this Jason, which we 
were on board, was the barque in which he made his first 
acquaintance with the Arctic ice, the occasion warranted 
a toast to his success. 

The consensus of the opinion of this Whaling Society is 
that he will be able to pull through all right, and in much 
less than five years—that is, if his vessel is to be trusted ; 
but from the description of its build given in a Norwegian 


paper there are doubts about its suitability. 


From Nansen's Crossing 
of Greenland. 


The Jason in the 
Arctic ce. 


On deck % be pe the Nor- 


wegian crew, whether roy- 
alists or not, were making the most 


of the occasion. Unlike our men, they are treated to 
grog on great occasions, and a very wise plan it seems 
to me. The amount of discontent on our vessel arising 
from there being a supply of drink aft and none for the 
crew cannot be here described. If the vessel was teetotal 
fore and aft none of the crew would object. 


300 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


The bo’sun of the Jason had been appointed to serve 
out the schnaps and the beer. He was a tall man witha 
wild, black beard and a canvas apron tied from his 
shoulders and waist. He poured out the grog into 
tumblers on the head of a cask with tremendous ceremony, 
and between every glass took a pull at the bottle himself, 
so he had difficulty in keeping his post. 


Some of the men got themselves up as Christy minstrels 


and sang negro songs, accompanied. by a melodeon ; 


others danced waltzes on deck, but with the oil and ice 
the floor was too slippery. Some of our party tried a 
reel, that was positively dangerous. 

Some of these Norwegian sailors were superior sort of 
men, and I was surprised to find myself discussing books 


and music with one of the focsle hands. He took me down 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 301 


to the men’s quarters, and handed me quite a number of 
books that he had read on the voyage out, for which I agreed 
to send him others in exchange. Then he brewed coffee, 
and insisted on my smoking a magnificent Dutch pipe 
that he took from his chest. His friend! was laid up with 
inflammation of the lungs, brought on by the exposure ; 
so we sat beside him and talked and smoked all the 
evening. Fancy talking of art, music, and literature in a 
focsle! and these men knew what they were talking 
about. I felt very sorry for the invalid: of all places in 
which to be laid up, a focsle must be the worst. As we 
sat there we could scarcely hear our own voices—a man 
was cooking on the stove close to this man’s bunk ; another 
was playing on a melodeon; some were singing, and all 
smoking and talking—a pandemonium of sound, and the 
whole place reeked with wet clothes, and the smell of 
seal-skins, cooking, and tobacco. They said their only 
really happy time was when they pulled-to the sliding- 
doors of their bunks and read by the light of a small 
lamp. Imagine shutting yourself up in a frousty box six 
feet by three, with a book and an oil lamp, and calling it 
happiness ! 


Sunday, 22nd—A ong day of hard grinding at the 
oars, killing and flinching seals. A day full of sunlight and 
quiet beauty. Lunch of ship-biscuit and snow; returned 
to the ship late at night, and dog-tired. 


1 Sailors often go for years to sea in the company of the same friend, Some- 
times three men hang together, and always try to sail on the same vessel. 


302 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


Monday, 23rd—Got away from the ship early. Fog 
came down in the afternoon, and we took our bearings by 
compass. Then the fog came down very thick, with wind 
and snow, and we had a long row hunting for the ship, 
and when at last we picked her up by good luck, we could 
see the signal for our return flying apeak! The other 
boats were still out, but they all found the ship by half- 


past six, 


Sunday, 29th.—Same position as on Ist January. We 
have now on board 4800 seals, killed in twenty-eight days. 
Our decks are piled with their skins and blubber, high 
above the rail—a gory heap weighing more than 100 tons. 
There is fear lest the decks strain and the hatches burst. 

Last night the sky cleared up for a blow, and this 
morning the wind has risen to a strong gale from the 
south. All five ships are in sight steering full speed 
amongst the loose pack, against the gale, and scarcely 
making steering-way. We have reached the shelter of the 
pack edge and three large bergs, so the sea is smooth, 
fortunately for us in our present state. 

There will be no more sealing for some days, till we 
get all these skins on deck ‘ made off” We are heartily 
glad that we have nearly got a full ship, for every one is 
dead-tired. As for myself, I feel as if I had been flayed. 
The first week brought me into good training, but the 
after work has run us all down. The sudden changes 
of temperature are trying. In the morning we go out 
thickly clad and get steaming hot with working in the 


strong sunlight, and by evening we are stamping our wet 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 303 


feet in the boats, with a cutting south wind driving 
the snow dust through our clothes. The crew are all 
buoyed up with the prospect of what is now almost a 
certainty, a good pay day when they get home. They 
receive the principal part of their share of the profits 
from the blubber-money. 

On Thursday last we had quite an exciting day’s seal- 
ing. In the morning we found ourselves almost outside 
the last of the streams of loose ice with a lumpy sea 
running in from the open. 

The first four boats were lowered in the smooth water 
before we came out of the pack. Then the Balzena held 
on, and dropped us near a small stream of ice in the open 
water, on which were a great number of seals. 

It was a pleasant change rowing in a tumbling sea after 
the monotony of calm inside the ice, pleasant and exhila- 
rating to see the blue waves surge up behind the white reefs 
and come pouring over the ice tongues, green as emerald, 
er burst high into the sunny air, to fall in glittering 
showers. The ice islands were rolling and grinding 
against each other with a slow, deep sound, and the small 
pieces rattled together and ‘filled the air with a clashing as 
of countless plates and knives. The harpooneer jumped 
on to the island, and two of us had to blaze away as fast 
as we could load and fire, for the seals on this piece of 
ice seemed to believe in flight. We picked off those 
that were more distant and those that were moving away, 
the rest gained confidence when they saw their com- 
panions lie down, and waited quietly till each had a bullet 
in the fatal spot at the back of their lovely heads, 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 305 


After we had got nearly a boat-load of skins off the 
one stream, we pulled alongside, the skins were hauled on 
board, and we dropped under the Balena’s stern, and went 
in tow. This towing behind a ship is bad at any time, 
and when there is a sea on, with lumps of ice swinging into 
the ship’s wake in addition, it is anything but pleasant. 

The event of the day was our getting a number 
of seals off the side of an iceberg. This, I am told, is 
unprecedented in the annals of sealing. It is certainly 
the first time I have seen seals out here on anything 
but pack ice. They lay scattered over the steeply sloping 
side of a berg in such numbers that we felt we were bound 
to get them somehow or other. The difficulty was to get 
on to the berg, for the ice broke away abruptly at the foot 
of the slope, and the sea had undercut the edge with 
green caves, so we had to be pretty cautious about land- 
ing, so as to prevent our bows getting under the ledge. 
Very slowly we approached, waiting for a roller to lift us 
up to the level of the slope. As we rose, three of us 
jumped from the boat and clung on to the ice with our 
picks, whilst those in the boat backed off. I think we 
were as astonished at finding ourselves on the side of the 
berg as the seals were at secing us there. The ice was 
flinty hard, so after we had flinched them all there was 
none of the usual grind of dragging the skins, we merely 
slid them down the slope like toboggans. 

While we were flinching, the boat had pulled back to 
the ship and got some more men to keep her in hand 
when taking us off. They brought a line with them, and 


when within a few yards of the berg they threw it up to 
U 


306 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


us and we ran it through the flipper-holes in the skins ; 
then the boat backed off, and the skins slipped down over 
the ice-edge with a flop into the water and were pulled 
over the boat’s side. 

We nearly came to grief getting into the boat. She 
was backed in very gingerly, bow first, and just as we 
were jumping the surge drove her in too close, the bow 
caught under a ledge, and the stern went up in the air, 
and tumbled us all in a heap, half-drowned in a 
smother of foam. An ordinary boat would have been 
smashed in pieces, but these whale-boats we use for sealing 
are very strong. 

As the next seals in sight were a long way off, we for 
once had time to get dinner on board. The moment it 
was swallowed we were lowered away again to get them. 
They were the big black seals this time, and lay scat- 
tered over a stream of ice a long way out from the main 
pack. 

We never see these large seals in great numbers, gener- 
ally in couples, or singly. In this case they lay well into 
the centre of the stream, and though we could push our 
way through the ice ruins to within a few yards of them, 
we could not always manage to get them into the boat. 
_ All the afternoon we spent shoving and pulling in and out 
amongst the blocks. At times the boat was jammed 
out of water, and do what we would we could make no 
progress. For hours we only made a few yards, and once 
free became immediately entangled again in another white 
labyrinth in our attempts to get to some big seal that lay 


sleeping, perhaps within a boat’s length, and yet was as 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 307 


safe as if under water. All the afternoon and evening we 
tugged and shoved till we were dead-beat, and as tired 
and hungry as could be, with not a sign of the ship above 
the horizon. Then it got dusk, and as there was a small 
sea on, and our boat was down to the thwarts with 
seals’skins, we pulled into the shelter of a small berg 
in the open, and patiently waited for the Balzena to come 
and pick us up. 

As we could not have stowed another seal’s tail in 
the boat, we took our ease behind the ice with minds 


at rest, pulled on our mitts, buttoned up every button 


that would help to keep the cold wind out, lit our pipes, 


and made the best of it, resting on our oars, and only 
giving an occasional stroke or two to keep up to our 
shelter. We had a jolly crew, so the time passed merrily. 
Willy Watson, a/zas Dee Dong, the steersman, sat on the 
skins in the stern and made us laugh all over with his 
funny sayings. Harry Kiddy, the harpooneer, a jolly, 
chubby little man, sang to us with stentorian voice. He 
sang the songs that sailors like, of home and the comforts 
of a fireside, songs of the simplest and most powerful 


sentiment, with no drawing-room tra-la-las. Jack likes 


308 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


something warm and stirring, ‘Steady, Black Watch, 
Steady, is one of our great favourites on board, How 
the men thunder 
out the chorus, ‘ Die 
we may, all do. 
Fly we will sever. 
Steady, Black 
Watch, etc. But 
Kiddy’s best song 
is ‘ The Light in the 
Window ’—a_ long, 
tremendously sobby 
song. He put his 
quid on the thwart 


and gives it to us 


with such a strong, 
Wiese Aiteikerey irlnesiye 
you could hear him through half a mile of iceberg. 
The hero of this song repeats after every verse: 
‘There’s-a light, in-the win-dow, burns bright-ly for 
me, placed there by his mother to welcome him ‘home 
from the sea.’ The boy comes home and finds the 
light burns brightly, but his mother has gone—a sort of 
song to start the salt in the eyes of the very tarriest 
old shell back. Then Tailor gives us ‘The Banks of my 
native Australia, a lovely air, but, with Jack’s own words, 
scarcely proper. Odd, is it not, how sailors must have 
their songs either deeply pathetic or vividly cerulean? 
Each man had to do something for the general entertain- 


ment, and a youth who couldn’t do anything, and had 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 309 


foolishly let the men know the name of the girl he left 
behind him, was chaffed for pastime. It amused them, 
and he did not mind; of course he must have been of 
Saxon extraction, from Fife or Forfar. Catch a canny 
Shetlander or John Highlandman letting out his heart’s 
secret in a focsle ! 

About ten we began to think we were going to spend 
the night on the ice, and kept an anxious look-out for the 
Balzena, and at last to our great relief her spars appeared 
over the ice horizon. As we could not go into the small 
sea outside our shelter for fear of swamping, we lay 
snug, lit another pipe, cut another chew, and waited for 
her to come down to us. Some of those who read this 
may remark on this objectionable habit of chewing tobacco. 
My opinion on the matter is that on occasions, say after 
long exposure it is remarkably soothing and sustaining ; 
and for men working as our crew work from morning 
till night in the boats, one hour hot and the next freezing 
cold, with boots full of snow-broo and blood, and waist- 
belts pulled in to the last hole, anything that dulls the 
senses without paralysing them is welcome. 

At eleven we were on board tucking into penguin stew 
—at least I was. My companions have to do any cooking 
for themselves when they come in like this at night, and 
of course they were too fagged to cook anything, but ate 
their cold tinned meat and biscuit, lit their pipes, looked 
to their cut hands, damned a little, and lay down as they 
were on their chest-lids for forty winks before turning 
out to their morning watch. A man who would work a 


hired dog on the 12th as these poor beggars are worked 


310 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


every day ought to go and hang himself. ) 


The other five had drunk sea-water, and had gone mad 
and jumped overboard. The man that was found in the 
boat had eaten his hat and the signal-flag and some other 
trifles. Both his legs were frost-bitten, and had to come off. 
Now he sits in a little wooden house in Dundee, where 
he opens a gate on the N.B, Railway. I daresay he will tell 
his tale to any one who cares to listen. There was a very 
grim humour about the last chapter of the story. When 
the poor castaway was landed at Dundee, the wives of his 
late companions met him, and made pointed inquiries as 
to their husbands, about the manner of whose decease there 
were wild rumours. When he lay in bed recovering, the 
same ladies continued their visits, to his annoyance, till 
he hit on the plan of talking in his sleep, as if he recalled 
the time in the boats. ‘Noo, Jock,’ he would groan, when 
Mrs. Jock was at his bedside, ‘it’s your turn noo, ma man. 
No’ but that I’m sorry for ye, laddie, but ye maun dee, 
man—I’m fair faumished.’ My informant did not linger 
over the story. Sailors seem to avoid the horrible in their 
yarns, perhaps because they know that they themselves 
may at any time have like experiences. 

We got back to the ship at 4.15, and were off again at 
5.10—sent off with many kindly directions to find seals 
where there were no seals. They were ‘just lyin’ a’ ower 
the sea,’ so we were told—seals of the papzllons nozrs 
species, I expect. We were dropped in the middle of a 
floe of blocks, varying in size from a cottage to a palace, 
to pick up these phantoms, but in the boats we were 
not sufficiently elevated to see them, and the pack was 


so jammed that it was impossible to move more than 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 321 


two or three boat-lengths, so we pulled under a green 
ice grotto, prettily fringed with icicles, and smoked 
our pipes peacefully. It was a ridiculous chase. Later 
the ship came up, and with great difficulty drove her way 
through the jam to us, and we and two other boats 
got in tow under the stern of the Mjolnar, and went 
hunting the snark through the pack at five knots. My 
word! the Mjolnar was Thor’s hammer with a vengeance 
that night; we had a memorable time astern, with the 
ice swirling against us and the boats colliding with each 
other as we raced along. We only got five seals after all. 

At 11 o'clock the Balena was hopelessly jammed in 
the pack, driving goodness knows where in thick fog, 
with bergs all round. Sometimes the pressure on her 
timbers seemed more than they could bear, as if the ice 
was pressing so that another pound of pressure would 
burst the ship into splinters. Then as it eased off a 
little, George on the bridge would bang the bell, and 
the other George and his mate below turn on full speed 
ahead, and make a desperate effort to break loose, to 
gain perhaps twenty yards, just to get jammed again 
amongst the grey ice-rocks that grinned out of the dark- 


ness over the bulwarks at our helplessness. 


Sunday—This morning the wind fell a little, and we 
breathed with less weight on our chests ; but to-night, as I 
write up my log, it is rising almost to a gale again. The 
night is dark; but the ice gives a white glimmer which 
would help us to see where the bergs are, but for the fog 


and driving snow. 
x 


322 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


... What a pandemonium of sounds—the wind howling 
and the timbers creaking and cracking as the ice pounds 
against our sides. What the men say is true, ‘it’s time 
we’re oot o’ this, an’ awa’ hame. It is a trifle too 
dangerous for the philosophic contemplation of life, 
’Tis a time for those to pray who can’t act, for the rest 
to stand by, as Callum Bouie put it, only in different 
words, to the wee Dr. M‘G. and the big Dr. M‘C. when 
they were caught in a squall coming over from Jura, ‘If 
ta wee meenister will say a praayer,’ he said, ‘he will say 
a praayer; but ta pig meenister will take an oare what- 
efer’; and it was then, and on no other occasion, believe 
me—no matter what William Black or anybody else may 
say to the contrary—that he told the minister, who con- 
tinued to pray amongst the wet ballast after the squall 
had blown over, ‘You may stop praaying, Dr. M‘G., for 
we will pe peholden to no man,’ 

Sacré! another shock—enough to dislocate one’s ver- 
tebrz. It is certainly not time to stop praying yet. 

The question before the House is, Which is the strongest, 
the ship or the ice ?—It’s the Balana this time, and we go 
crushing through the press head-first into the next block, 
the swell angrily crunching the ice islands against our 
sides as we jam through. 

What a terrible row! The wind is still rising, and the 
bell keeps ringing intermittently. _Once—twice,—the 
engines are reversed, and we go slowly astern. One! a 
single clang, and she stops; then immediately come four 
bells very hurriedly rung into one peal, and we go full 
speed ahead for a second, and pound into the block in 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 323 


front of us. The screw goes on revolving, but we make 
no way, and we feel the ice creeping along our sides and 
round our stern; another clang of the bell, but too late— 
the propeller strikes the ice, and the engines are stopped, 
with an alarming shock—all is quiet but for the howling 
of the wind outside; then come feet thumping overhead as 
men hurry aft to see to the rudder. We are fairly caught 
now, fore and aft, and the Balena rolls a little, uneasily, 
in the ice grip. 

It was difficult to go to sleep whilst these various 
shocks and sounds continued ; so I put by my log, blew 
out my candle, and went on deck to look at the grey ice 
ghosts that were trying to crush in our bulwarks. .. . 

It was comfortable enough in the focsle, so at least I 
found it when I went to the galley for our evening brew 
of coffee. Half a dozen of the watch below sat before the 
fire puffing at their pipes and staring at the red coals. It 
was comfortable, by contrast at least, but the conversation 
was doleful and intermittent, and one man was praying 
beside his sea-chest for our preservation. No wonder the 
men were depressed: Mark Tapley would have groaned 
on such a night;+ and some of the most lugubrious spoke 
of putting on their best clothes—to be neat and tidy, I 
suppose, when all hands should be piped aloft. I am 
afraid that on this occasion my friends brocaded their 


! Dr. Donald, of the Active, tells me they were also in a very tight place 
on this night, and all their men had packed their chests. The idea with 
whalers in case of their ship being nipped is to get on to the ice with their 
belongings and anything of any value they can lay hands on in the ship— 
rifles, copper pipes, etc., and then get another whaler to take them home. 
They are quite accustomed to this, 


324 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


talk with just as many profanities as usual. In safety or 
in danger, sailors swear, but they mean no harm, and they 
don’t swear nearly so much as their fathers did before 
them.— 

Once upon a time there was a parson on board a sailing 
vessel in the Mediterranean. On passing by the focsle one 
day, he heard oaths thick as shot come rattling up the hatch. 
Surely, he thought, our good ship must be in imminent 
danger; I must ask our captain. So he went aft to the 
skipper, who was lounging in the shade on the poop with 
a lemonade at his elbow. ‘Captain,’ he said, ‘I have just 
come from the other end of the ship, where I overheard 
the men in their cabin using such terrible language that 
I greatly fear our ship must be in some great danger.’ 

‘T greatly regret,’ replied the skipper, with the courtesy 
of his class, ‘that the language of my men should have been 
such as to cause you the least pain. Rest assured, my 
dear sir, that there is really no danger just now; and believe 
me when I tell you, sir, that it is only on occasions such as 
the present, when the sky is clear and the sea is smooth 
and all danger far removed, that in his rash confidence the 
sailor so far forgets the Ever-listening Ear, the Ever- 
recording Pen.’ .. . 

In the Bay the barometer went up with a jump and 
they caught a nor’-wester that brought the mizzen over by 
the board, blew the fore topmast over the side, shifted 
the cargo, and laid them over with a two-foot list to 
starboard. 

Down came the skipper to the cabin, blasting and 
blanking right and left, shouting to the steward for 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 325 


lemonade, cursing the ship and his luck and the day he 
went to sea. 

‘Captain, said the parson, very white and holding on 
to the table, ‘it grievés me to see you thus give way to 
passion. I have been on deck, and it is all very terrible 
and incomprehensible to me, and I am all wet. But I 
feel sure, captain, there is no danger to our lives, for, thank 
God, captain, the men are swearing—worse than ever! 


I think this is the very oldest junk in the merchant 


service—Reader, I apologise. 


Tuesday.—It was quite a pleasant surprise to turn out 
yesterday and find ourselves still above water. The wind 
eased off a little in the forenoon, and the ice opened and 
we struggled out like a fly from a bowl of loaf-sugar 
and steamed away to the eastward, where the Jason and 
the Active had found a comfortable shelter behind a berg 
and some stream ice. The wind was still strong on our 
starboard bow and made a small sea that burst over our 
bows in white icy showers. We could take a little spray 


without harm, but anything in the way of green sea would 


326 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


have given us trouble; for the main-hatch is still open, 
the scuppers are all choked with seal-skins, and the 
bunkers are open with heaps of coal piled on deck to 
leave room for blubber below. 

This afternoon the boats that were out came back to 
the ship filled to the gunwale with black seal-skins. As 
they arrived each boat sent up lusty cheers, for the mizzen 
rigging was adorned with flags to signify our sealing is 
over. There ought properly to have been great celebra- 
tions on this occasion, but for circumstances over which 
the crew have no control. However, the intensity of the 
unexpressed joy we all felt could scarcely have been greater. 
All that has to be done now, before we leave, is to make 
off the skins on deck, haul the Jack apeak, and turn the 
Balzna’s head for home and the North Countrie. 

Just to make my experiences as an Antarctic sealer 
complete, I was seized in the grey of the morning with the 
illness that most of our men have been knocked up with, so 
I am now able to speak from personal experience. The 
sensation of this perhaps uncatalogued malady is as if you 
had been shot at with an express rifle and the expansive 
bullet had caught you fair and true where the little girl 
explained her doll was sore, ‘just where the wax meets 
the sawdust. The pain was so acute that for quite a 
time I wished I had never been born, and kicked horribly 
against the boards that divide my bunk from the doctor’s, 


till he got up and ministered to me. 


Thursday, 16th February.—We are lying gently rolling 


in the short, smooth swell. Scattered pieces of ice and 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 3 


N 
“I 


hollow mist round, the oppressive stillness only broken by 
the grinding on our sides of a piece of ice against which 
the ship is resting. Now that our thoughts are set on 
the home-going, the feeling of being cut off from the 
world comes over us more than ever. Even the- birds 
that have kept us faithful company have left us, as if they 
knew that we were wearied with their noiseless flight and 
the sad grey world they live in. Yet it was well to come 
here, to this quiet chamber of the south, where nature 
lies entranced in a death-like sleep; now that we have 
touched her cold face and marvelled at her white beauty 
we long to go back to the living world we come from, 
where the breast of mother earth is kindly and warm, 
and the air is full of colour and perfume and pleasant 


sounds. 


... The very last skins are being made off. The snow 
is falling and dusting the men’s worn clothes, hanging 
on their shaggy beards and caps till they look like models 
of old father Christmas. Those who are not making off are 
busted clearing up the decks and making all fast in the 
‘tween-decks before we take to the high seas again. 
The Jason is alongside. She will not leave the ice for 
several days yet; though she has more seals on board her 
than we have, yet she still has room for more. We are 
indebted to her master for supplying us with salt to 
preserve our seal-skins. The Balena had only been pro- 
vided with a small quantity, the owners not expecting, I 
suppose, that we should get a full ship of seal-skins. 


I am told that this act of kindness on the part of 


328 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


Norwegian captains has never had its equal in whaling 
records. Mr, Adams has just gone on board her to 
partake of Captain Larsen’s hospitality, and all on board 
down to the stowaways wish him a pleasant evening, for 
he has not been a day off duty, or an hour on shore, 
since the day we left Dundee—the 6th of last September. 


Friday, 17th February.—Last night the thermometer 
dropped suddenly, falling five degrees in five minutes. A 
round bank of mist like a dark boulder formed in the 
west, with a sort of low rainbow arch of grey light above 
it, and the wind, that had been in the north, went round 
suddenly to the west, and blew hard and bitingly cold, 
giving us a taste of the Antarctic winter which will 
soon freeze us up here if we are not up and away before 
long. Every one is delighted with the prospect of leaving 
this cold country, with, I think, the exception of the 
doctor and myself. He busies himself with plans for 
spending a winter here. The crew have their homes and 
families and their pay waiting for them; possibly new 
pledges to rejoice their paternal feelings. They have been 
and seen and got all they wanted—perhaps not so much 
as if they had got whalebone, but still more than they had 
expected in the event of there being no whales—whilst 
Bruce and I have been and seen only a fraction of what 
we wished to see, and have nothing to speak of in the way 
of collections either scientific or artistic. However, we try 
to content ourselves with the hope that this expedition 
may add to the interest taken in this end of the world, 


and that another expedition may be sent out, on which 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 329 


the scientist will not be hindered in making his obser- 
vations, or the artist—I pray I may be he—in making 
drawings. 

The four black barques are here together, collected like 
crows on a field in the evening before taking flight. The 
Polar Star has flown already; these gales must have 
blown her clean out of the ice and away north, or, as some 
say, sunk her. She was far too small and fragile for this 
work, with engines far too weak to contend with the 


buffeting of the gales and ice, though I am told she can 


lick us off our feet in the open sea; but that is no great 
matter to make her owners gay. 

All the boats are being brought inboard and turned 
upside down on the skids, and soon we hope to be swinging 
under them again, in our hammocks, in the heat of the 
tropics, 

Weare lying in Bransfield Straits this afternoon between 
Joinville Land to the south, and the South Shetlands on 
the north ; to-morrow we shall see them on our way north. 

Joinville Land lies S. by E., distant about forty 


"330 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


miles. We can just make it out—a land entirely covered 
with snow, faintly yellow in the sunlight, with the clouds 
lying low, hiding its profile outlines. A large black 
mass, like a great cliff with a white sheet of snow down 
its middle, is the only feature. 

There is very little ice about, only small streams at con- 
siderable distances apart, and a few low icebergs twenty or 
thirty feet above water. On the streams are numbers of 
black seals lying singly and in couples, owing their safety 
to the want of space in our tanks for their blubber. They 
have fully twice as much fat on their skins now as those 
we found when we first came. Nature in her infinite 
wisdom has thus provided them with a thick, warm 
covering to enable them to withstand the rigour of the 
approaching winter; and in her simple, blundering way 
she has given us the same sort of coats, and we do not 
feel particularly grateful—we have the tropics before us. 
Circumstances were against the crew being treated in the 
same way, so they are perhaps in better trim for hot 
weather than we are aft the mainmast; they have had 
abundant work and a poor diet, but we in the cabin have 
had the work plus unlimited penguin stew,—the natural 
food of the country, and the most suitable, I suppose, for 
a permanent resident. 

The doctor found an opportunity of making some 
scientific research this afternoon. He brought out the 
empty greybeards and soda-water bottles that we brought 
from Dundee, which were so tantalising in the tropics, 
and we fastened lines to them and fished for Antarctic 


water over the stern. We (the reader and 1), being of 


4 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 331 


scientific tastes, both understand what the doctor was 
taking this cold water all the way home for ; but the crew 
did not. They believe firmly that it is for some patent 
medicines or a hair-wash that he intends to advertise 
at home as The Great Antarctic Hair-restorer. In this 
particular line the doctor has very justly earned great 
repute on board by inventing a mixture which, I believe, 
with proper application, would raise down on a billiard- 
ball. 

There is a certain seaman forward, a regular old 
weather-beaten salt, with a face wrinkled up like a peach- 
stone with fever and frost. Of all the complaints this 
elderly man of the sea had picked up in the odd corners 
of the world, what he suffered from most was his bald- 
ness. So he came aft and asked the doctor if he could do 
anything, and the doctor said ‘Yes, with perfect confidence ; 
for a young practitioner, our doctor has a fair amount of 
nerve, I consider. But in practice at sea ‘you soon gain 
confidence, as he has often told me, referring, of course, to 
surgeons at sea, not their patients. 

“You see, doctor,’ said the man, ‘I ain’t got werry much 
‘air on the top of my’ead.’ There was none at all on the top, 
and only a little round the sides. ‘And before I left my 
‘ome I married a werry prutty young wife, and it wouldn’t 
be werry nice to go ’ome without any ’air on my ’ead.’ 

The doctor said nothing, but he took a phial and poured 
something into it from another bottle, and poured into 
that some oil of penguins, and added some other ingredi- 
ents, the names and proportions of which I may not here 
divulge ; then he shook the liquid and gave it to the man 


*SYULTADIV AA ANO Bulyfly 


Os 
ies) 
uo 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


with that calm, Jove-like air of all-knowingness that so few 
physicians succeed in acquiring even after years of practice, 
an expression of calm confidence that springs, I suppose, 
from the absolute knowledge of the complete ignorance 
of the patient. All he said was, ‘Rud this vigorously on 
your head three times a day. And he did rub it—you can 
trust a sailor to do a thing well when he does do it. The 
crew tell me he sat for days afterwards holystoning his 
head in his watch below. The result is astonishing— 
the good man is as vain as can be of his second crop. 
Whether it was the mixture, or a faith cure, or massage 
that made the hair grow, I cannot say ; possibly the shocks 
and frights of this Antarctic life have the opposite effect 
from that which they have at the other end of the world, 
possibly all these causes effected the cure. At any rate, 
it is certain that hair now is where there was none before. 

We tried some ourselves, more as a preventive measure, 
we may say, than as a cure; but the perfume in our small 
cabin was such that we were obliged to discontinue its use. 
As assistant-surgeon I have naturally taken considerable 
intetest in my superiors work, and some of the cures I 
have seen him effect were really interesting ; being behind 
the scenes, as it were, I have had opportunities which I 
trust have not been neglected. 

One case in particular gave me great interest, and our 
doctor’s diagnosis and treatment filled me with admira- 
tion. The patient was a youth who suffered from various 
painful and alarming symptoms, that on different days 
affected him in different parts of his system; so many 


and varied were these that I felt anxious as to whether 


‘iddng pooy ing 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 335 


the lad would ever see his home again. In three days 
he was completely cured, by taking the pills prescribed 
for him; he took them three times a day, two at each 
time. I watched the preparation of the pills used in this 
case, and the doctor showed me that the ingredients were 
bread and impure water. 

The surgeon or doctor, as he is commonly called on 
board ship, has often to prescribe for cases of intermittent 
or continuous attacks of laziness. In former years the 
cure for this complaint was of a rough and ready nature, 
and only effective to a slight degree. With the ad- 
vance of the science, a certain oil has been discovered, 
a few drops of which administered to the patient are 
warranted to keep him on the hop for a week. But 
on this ship there have been absolutely none of these 
patients, but quite the reverse. Men really ill, have kept 
struggling out of bed to work in the frost and cold even 
when dangerously ill, going in the boats in the snow and 
cold when they ought to have been lying wrapped up in 
their bunks, slaving at oars and flinching diseased skins 
with cut and festering hands, standing for days on the 
slushy deck in the wind and snow, ‘making off’ with 
every muscle cramped with rheumatism. All this work 
they do, and suffer all this pain and unspeakable discom- 
fort, not altogether because they are driven to it, but 
because they share an infinitesimal proportion of the pro- 
fits of the voyage.—So much for co-operation. 

I think it can be seen that the surgeon’s duties on 
board a sealer are no sinecure. He has to work like 


the rest of the crew in the boats or at the wheel, for a 


336 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


long day of perhaps twelve hours hard manual labour, 
and at night has to patch up fingers, to dispense medi- 
cine and make scientific notes if he can steal a spare 
moment. In this case he has besides to turn out two or 
three times in the night to attend the principal patient, 


with the certainty of having to listen to endless growling 


about there being ‘too much science on board ; 
there’s never nobody seeck whan thar’s no dooctur:’ to 


the like and worse. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


ATURDAY, 182 Feb—Home! Home! Hurrah! we 

are off to the North again. To and fro we swing into 
the sea-way, already 
out of the still ice-sea, 
plunging along over 
‘the rough highway 
to Freedom and to 
Peace. It is as if we 
had broken from the 
woof of an eerie, beauti- 
ful dream,and wakened 
in the broad day. 


«= The men are whistling, and talking in an interested way 


now. How the old ship enjoys the freedom, plunging her 
nose into the soft sea, tossing the white spray over her 
bows, swishing the salt sparkling water to and fro, across 
her deck with a silky rustling, till the least speck of flesh 
or blood is cleansed out of nook and cranny, and swept 
through the flowing scuppers. 

Only five hours ago we were still in the loose pack-ice, 
steaming up to each of our consorts in turn, dipping our 
ensign in farewell, and answering their cheers. In two or 
three more days they will follow us on the same road. 


We left them some thirty miles N. by E. of Joinville 
Y 


338 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


Land, all close together. Some of the crews were busy 
shooting more seals, and the rest were on board, slashing 
away at the blubber and skins on deck, making off against 
time, and I have no doubt envying us with their whole 
hearts. The last farewell cheer we gave to the Antarctic 
before we turned the broad of our backs on it, and our 
faces towards home, was a little to the north of the vessels, 
when we came on one of the Diana’s boats out sealing. 
The crew had just jumped on to the ice to kill a seal, 
when we passed. The harpooneer fired three shots before 
he killed it, in such haste was he to wave a farewell. He 
and his mates and a couple of penguins scrambled up 
a hummock; the men gave a cheer, and the penguins 
waved their flippers, and toddled down the snow again 
and popped under water. 

And so we turned from the mystery of the Antarctic, 
with all its white-bound secrets still unread, as if we had 
stood before ancient volumes that told of the past and 
the beginning of all things, and had not opened them to 
read. Now we go home to the world that is worn down 
with the feet of many people, to gnaw in our discontent 


the memory of what we could have done, but did not do. 


Saturday Night—We have had just a glimpse of land 
to the northward before the night fell—Clarence Island, 
the most easterly of the South Shetlands. The pack-ice is 
out of sight now, only a few scattered bergs and broken 
pieces of sea-worn berg ice remain. The wind is pleasant 
and warm, N. by W., so we are steaming with only fore 


and aft sails set. In the engine-room, our social centre 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 3 


Go 
Ne} 


aft the mainmast, the conversation is quite animated. 
Of late the meetings there have been becoming more and 
more melancholy as the weather became worse and the 
longing to be off home increased. It was enough to 
crawl down and sit in the hottest place and doze and let 
the stiffness grow out of our bones in the warmth, and 
perhaps revive to the extent of playing a game of 
dominoes before turning in. But to-night every one had 
something to say, and the First Mate was in more than 
usually good form with his songs and character sketches. 

We threshed out the subject of matrimony from the 
sailor's point of view. The opinion of the meeting was 
decidedly in favour of married life ; but the members were 
almost all married, so their opinion was not unbiassed. A 
seaman’s life is so restless and uncomfortable that it is not 
worth living if he has not a home somewhere—if he can 
only see it for one week in the year. I think the common 
idea that Jack is unfaithful to the wife of his bosom is not 
‘f@ite true. ‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder’ applies 
in his case as in others. ‘And they’re no aye sae verra 
faithfu’ at hame whiles, as one of the party remarked 
in apology for his fellows. 


°° There was Liz 


, ye ken, wha auld Sandy —— 
marrit,—ye ll mind?’ Some of the party did mind, and 
others did not, so for the benefit of the latter the speaker 
unrolled his yarn. 

‘Sandy had long lived a gay bachelor, then married a 
young wife, whose appearance was not prepossessing, and 
whose manners were not those of a lady; all the same 


Sandy doated on her, and through a two-years’ voyage 


340 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


kept as true to her as the needle to the Pole, and when 
he came into port went straight “up the toon,” with heart 
pumping under his jacket, and his pockets full of bank- 
notes, refusing even to have a “sma yin” with his drouthie 
cronies on Dock Street. 

‘There was no one to let him in when he knocked at 
his door on the fifth flat in High Street, but he was not 
surprised. Liz would be working out-bye, he thought, for 
a sailor’s half-pay is none too much for the wife at home, 
So, to put in the time and slacken rather a dry throat, he 
went down the long stair again and turned into the Tay bar 
—a great sailors’ howf in Dundee—when who should he 
see but his Liz clinking glasses with another sailor man.’ 

““ Weel, Liz,” he said, “I’ve come hame.” The East 
Scotch are an undemonstrative people, 

«“ An dod, man,” she said, “but it’s fell glad I am to 
see ye, laddie. Wullie, this is my guidman; and Sandy, 
this is Wullie Lindsay, ma cousin, ye ken, just ca frae th’ 
Wast Ice wi’ a full ship.” 

‘So Sandy was introduced to Wullie, and ordered a gill 
of the special, to celebrate his home-coming, and Liz ‘went 
“over the way to fettle up the house a wee,” taking with 
her Sandy’s two years’ earnings, for, as every one knows, a 
sailor fresh from the sea is not to be trusted with money. 
. .. Old Sandy was treading on air when he left cousin 
Lindsay a little later, and went over the way to see his 
wife ; but his throat grew dry again when he found his 
door still shut. Then he went back to the Tay bar and 
heard Liz had “been, and gaed awa wi’ Meester Lindsay.” 
Some other local gossip he heard too, which gave him a 


t 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 341 


thirst that lasted out a month’s advanced pay, and instead 
of settling down to domestic happiness, Sandy was 
carried on board ship a week later—very drunk and 
shameless, an old grey-haired sailor, bound for Hell and 
Hong Kong.’ 

‘Daumned auld fule !’—remarked the fireman at the end 
of the story as he got up to rake out the furnace. And 
so he was, no doubt, but one felt sorry for the old wreck. 

Almost all our crew, old and young, are married. 
They apparently marry in Dundee between the ages 
of fifteen and twenty, on £1 a week and a childlike 
faith that their bread and butter will be provided 
daily. At twenty-five they have large families, and at 
forty they have grandchildren. Whilst we sat there, 
leaning against the timbers of the ship in the light of a 
smoky flare-lamp, talking of these matters of high import 
I drew the engineer, who was on my right hand. It was 
by way of a funny caricature. I thought he was un- 

garried from his youth and generally happy-go-lucky air, 
and I drew an ideal picture of him as he might appear in 
yeas to come, walking out with a damsel, a perambulator, 
and two and a half brace of kids. To my astonishment, 
he criticised the drawing by finding fault with the number 
of kids. There ought to have been two more, possibly 
three, he said. 

The needs of this class of men are simple, merely food 
and covering. These they can obtain by grinding in- 
dustry, and consequently repeat themselves ad 6. When 
they are taught, or come to realise that they have crav- 


ings for higher things—Nature, and Art, and Music—as 


342 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


well as for mere work and food, and when they learn how 
they can satisfy these wholesome appetites, then they will 
breed fewer and bigger, and less like rabbits in a protected 
warren. 


Sunday, 19th February.—Last night we lay close-hauled, 
for it was dark and misty, and there would have been a 
risk of running into some of the small, scattered bergs. 


This morning we steamed again with fore-and-aft canvas, 
steering N. by W. The air was warm to-day, and we had 
rain for the first time since we made the ice. In the 
middle of the day we were under the lee of Clarence 
Island, the most easterly of the South Shetland Islands. 
We passed it distant about twenty miles, I should think. 
We cannot help thinking with a shudder that there 
may be some poor fellows on those wild, snow-covered 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 343 


mountains watching the ship sail past. Every year ships 
are wrecked or disabled going round the Horn, and their 
wreck or boats might very possibly have drifted on to these 
unvisited islands. Only last year two large ships were 
lost. They were last spoken south of the Horn, and it is 
supposed they struck ice and foundered, or were disabled 
and drifted south-east in a north-west gale. It would 
be a humane plan for our Government to send a vessel 
to look up these islands occasionally, on the chance of 
picking up castaways. We could see other islands of the 
group stretching to the westward. Clarence Island appears 
to be the highest; the view we had reminded me of the 
peaks of Arran, only they were as high again and covered 
with snow, except where black rocks showed through long, 
steep slopes of snow. It would be a lovely country for 
Alpine club men, or for tobogganing—splendid slopes at 
an angle of 45°, two or three thousand feet high, with 
a clear jump at the bottom of, say, five hundred feet into 
exthe soft sea. 

We have the molly mawks with us again, and Mother 

Carey’s chickens in considerable numbers. A few of these 


last have white breasts. 


Monday.—Sun and breeze. We feel completely out of 
the Polar world. The albatross have joined us again. 
On our way out, those we saw were old white birds in full 
plumage, and the rest were in the stage immediately pre- 
ceding full plumage. Now we see pairs of old birds taking 
charge of young birds whose plumage is entirely brown, 


Saturday—A bad sea. Wind, N.W. to W. We are 


344 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


very much down by the head by reason of the coal being 
all stowed forward, so we are taking the sea heavily over 


our bows. 


Friday—A head wind under reefed topsails, staysails, 
reefed foresail. A hcavy cross sea still running, making 
us roll tremendously, decks always awash, everything 
loose, banging about. In the dog watch the wind fell and 
we got up steam, then it came fair and we sailed. 

We have had nothing but contrary winds for some days, 
so the change was very welcome. Both watches were on 
deck, and so the two crowds each hauled at a topsail 
halyard at the same time. What a clang of voices there 
was, each watch shouting down the other! What a wild 
fresh picture to remember in the foul streets in towns,—the 
sea plunging from bulwark to bulwark seething white, the 
men singing and laughing; up to the tops of their 
boots in glittering foam, and a fair yellow light filling 
the sky, making the dark, lumpy waves look soft and 
delicate, shining through the jets of glittering broken™ 


water thrown up by the cross sea. 


Q 

Thursday. — Heavy Cape Horn sea. Bright, clear 
weather. We smelt land to-day; I could swear to it. 
When I came out of the cabin there was a pleasant 
aromatic perfume of burning wood in the air, but on 
looking forward there was no smoke to be seen, and the 
wind was right across our deck. 

So it dawned on me that it must be from land, and 
standing right up to windward the smell was the same. 


Two hundred miles seems rather a long way for the scent 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 345 


of land to carry. The wind was blowing straight from 
the islands on our port bow. Perhaps being so long 
in absolutely pure air makes one unusually alive to the 
least change in its quality. 

I made a jotting of Harvey this afternoon as he was 
laying it off to Peter beside the galley stove that is still kept 
in the focsle. How I wish I could give Harvey’s yarns, 


with his mixture of Cornish and Scotch and good Queen’s 


* 


English, patched with quaint nautical terms from all seas. 


He told of their forty days’ voyage in the open boats 
from Franz Joseph Land, in the spring of the year, to 
Spitzbergen, where Sir Allan Young met them and took 
them home on board the Hope, and how the food on 
board the Hope made their hands and feet swell because 
they had eaten nothing but meat of walrus and bear for 
a twelvemonth. And he described their landing in Peter- 


head ; and how the people, when they heard of the return 


346 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


of the Eira crew, came to the docks to welcome those they 
had long thought dead. Their feet were so sore with the 
pavements that they had to stop at the first shop and buy 
canvas shoes. After the triumph in Peterhead, and the day 
spent in festivities, Harvey took the night train to Dundee 
and set off to the far end of the town to his home. Half 
way up the town his feet became so sore, and he was so 
tired with the day’s excitement, and nervous with pro- 
spect of meeting his wife and children, that he sat down 
on a doorstep to pull himself together. As he sat there a 
policeman came by and flashed his lantern on the dejected- 
looking figure, gave him a shove and told him to move 
on. But Harvey felt at that moment he had as much 
right to his share of native soil as the policeman, and told 
him so, and a little more besides. And the policeman, 
an ordinary individual, with more sense of duty than 
common sense, collared our friend and marched him up 
to the police station. 

‘What’s your charge ?’ said the superintendent. — 

‘Drunk and disorderly, sir, said policeman M‘Crae. 

Then weather-beaten Harvey was questioned, and 
answered with his fine-weather, childlike smile, both hands 
across his waistcoat. 

‘Now, my man, what’s your name?’ 

‘Jock Harvey, sir.’ 

‘What trade ?’ 

“Sailoresin. 

‘Ship?’ 

‘The Eira, sir.’ 

‘Tuts, man, the Eira’s been lost this year back.’ 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 347 


‘Yes, sir, but her crew have come home in the Hope, sir.’ 

‘Allan Young’s ship?’ 

“Yes, sir.’ 

Then there were explanations, and M‘Crae saw the 
glint of a five-shilling bit in Mr. Harvey’s fist when he 


showed him into a cab. 


Monday, 27th.—In the dog watch we made out the hills 
of the Malvinas or Falkland Islands, which name you 
please, a low, broken line of purple on the horizon against 
a yellow sunset sky, flecked and striped with ridges of 
lavender cloudlets each fringed with rosy red. It was 
like our West Highland sunsets, with a glow in the air 
that gave our dark hull and the men’s faces, looking over 
the bulwarks, a warm, rusty tint, and made our masts 
shine like bars of gold. Gradually the hills grew larger, 
the afterglow grew colder, and the welcome spark of 
light on Cape Pembroke became keener as the darkness 

— «rept over us from the east. 

It was too late to make our way into the roadstead, so 
we lay off and on through the night. As I write, we are 
gently rolling in the lee of the land; the easy rolling 
motion that makes one feel so drowsy. 

Tuesday broke clear as crystal, a caller morning with a 
fresh breeze blowing off shore, bringing down the peat 
smoke from the burning moors. 

There was as before no pilot to be seen, so we followed 
our own lead up Port William and through the Narrows 
into Stanley harbour. I heard afterwards that the pilot 


was laid up. Two policemen, however, came off, to 


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CHA BRITIA S2l6 
‘BY WILLIAM S. BRUCE, NATURALIST TO S.S. BALEZNA 


WITH the exception of a flying visit made in 1874 by 
H.M.S. Challenger, the Antarctic regions have been 
entirely neglected since Ross’s Expedition of 1839-43, 
and have been well nigh forgotten. An accident of 
commerce led in the autumn of 1892 to a slight revival 
of scientific interest. A fleet of whalers set out in Sep- 
tember from Dundee to search the Antarctic seas for 
the Bowhead (Lalena mysticetus), or some similar whale. 
The fleet consisted of the Balzena, in which Mr. Burn- 
Murdoch and myself sailed, the Active, the Diana, and 
the Polar Star. Our vessels, after a voyage which was 
prolonged to thirty or forty days beyond the calculated 
time, met at the southern ice in Erebus and Terror Gulf. 
There we found an earlier arrival, the Norwegian sealing 
vessel Jason (Captain Larsen)—the ship in which Nansen 
set out from Iceland for his famous crossing of Green- 
land. The Jason was strictly on commerce bound, 
though the spirit of the great explorer, who had sailed 
in her, had in some measure descended on Captain 
Larsen, for, without any special resources, he showed 
a zeal for extending our knowledge of these regions 
that would not have been unworthy of the leader of 
a purely scientific expedition. But the four Dundee 


350 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


whalers had an element of interest unusual in such a 
fleet. A scientific and artistic department had been 
attached to them. The Royal Geographical Society 
and the Meteorological Office equipped the fleet with 
instruments, and appointed officers to undertake the 
work of observation and research. Mr. Leigh Smith, 
Dr. H. R. Mill, and Professor Haddon also added hand- 
somely to the scientific outfit of the Balzena, 

The Balzna first saw ice on the afternoon of December 
16th, in about 60° S., just to the N.E. of the South Shet- 
lands. The same night we sighted our second berg. The 
weather was fine and bright in the earlier part of the 
day, becoming overcast and rainy in the afternoon and 
evening, All day we were surrounded by myriads of 
birds, mostly Cape pigeons (Procellaria capensis); among 
them being thousands of blue petrel, and smaller numbers 
of molly mawk (Diomedia culminata). On the surface 
of the water, from near the ship to far on the horizon, 
we could see hundreds of the Finner Whale blowing 
fountainlike spouts, and filling the air with their charac- 
teristic note of booming resonance. The next day, the 
17th December, the weather was foggy and the temper- 
ature fell from 34° F. to 30° F. We met with drift ice 
and a few bergs, both great and small. On this day we 
saw and shot our first seal, a sea-leopard (Lepionyx stenor- 
rhyncus), one of the largest kinds, as it drifted past us 
asleep. 

The same weather continued until the 23rd of December. 
Fog, sleet, rain, squalls, bergs! We scarcely made any 


headway: it was with difficulty we saw our jibboom: we 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 351 


were in almost unknown seas, Suddenly the fog lifted ; 
we were completely surrounded with bergs, the re- 
sounding murmur of which had been reaching us 
through it. 


Bergs—Antarctic bergs are quite different from those of 
the North. In the Arctic regions they are tall, irregular, 
and pinnacled ; in the South they are flat-topped. They 
may be of any length. We saw many three or four miles 
long, one twelve miles long, and one, a floating island of 
ice, thirty miles long. Their usual height above the water 
is about 150 feet, and their depth beneath the surface 
must be seven or eight times as great as this. Those 
bergs that are not tabular are weather-worn varieties of 
the tabular. We came across several more varied in 
shape than usual. One was beautifully conical, and some 
had very well marked stratification ; we saw a castellated 
berg looking like part of some strange fortification ; one 

..-«, was hewn into beautiful Doric pillars, others were in the 
form of grand arches, others still had great caves hollowed 
out.of them, which, in some cases, were connected with 
vertical holes piercing their upper surface. Through 
these holes, when a heavy swell beat up the caverns, 
columns of water and spray were ejected, often to a great 
height. Other bergs overhung their water-worn bases. 
Strange cracks and fissures abounded. Although these 
bergs are brilliant with whiteness, yet they glow with 
colour. It is beyond my power to describe them. I 
have counted from the deck as many as sixty-five at 
one time. The field-, floe-, and pack-ice is similar to 


352 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


that of the North. In parts we found it very closely 


packed; in parts it was more open and easy to penetrate. 


Sea.—The colour of the sea varies very much. Now it 
is blue and clear; now olive-brown, and opaque. Be- 


tween these two colours there is a series of shades from 
greenish blue, dark green, and olive green, and from clear- 
ness to opacity. The browner water appears to be in the 
neighbourhood of a great body of ice. This colour is due 
to a diatom, which swarms in the water, and which colours 
the pack-ice and the base of bergs with a rusty brown. 

In the bluest water it was most profitable to hunt for 
seals. Ross and other navigators experienced the most 
terrific swells in the pack, but we escaped them even after 
the heaviest gales. In the neighbourhood of the Danger 
Islets the currents were very strong—at times it was 
difficult for our vessel to make headway against them. 
In the neighbourhood of bergs they were also impetuous. 
I was in one of two boats one day, in the neighbourhood — 
of a berg, and so strong was the current that, although 
we pulled steadily for about four hours, we were only,just 
able to hold our own against it. Near bergs the drift-ice 
moves very fast—now onward, now swaying round caught 
in a whirlpool, and boats have to keep a sharp look-out to 
prevent being nipped. Surface and deep-sea temperatures 
were recorded, and it is of interest to note that for the 
first time in Antarctic Seas the reversing thermometer 
was used. On two or three occasions we saw ice form- 
ing on the water, but never to any great extent. Besides 


temperatures, salinities were recorded, and _ several 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 353 


soundings were made with Lord Kelvin’s patent sounding 
machine, and bottom specimens secured. Floats were 
also thrown out to test the direction and speed of the 


surface currents. 


Weather —All the observations that have been made 
in the Antarctic have been in the height of summer— 
that is, during the months of December, January, and 
February; and an account of our experiences during 
these months will give you a very fair idea of what 
Cook, Weddell, D’Urville, Wilkes, and Ross experienced 
before us. 

Like our predecessors, we found it to be a region of 
gales and calms—gales from the north, with wet fog; gales 
from the south, with fine blinding snow; calms with fog, 
and calms with brilliant sunshine. Towards the middle 
of December, when we were approaching the icy regions, 
we lay-to in squally weather and thick fogs. Gradually 

«swe pushed southward, and soon entered latitudes where 
flat-topped icebergs surrounded us on every side, and 
where pack-ice floated on the water. Squally weather 
continued till the 24th of December, when, in the vicinity 
of the Danger Islets, we met with a great number of 
bergs. Long shall I remember this Christmas Eve, when 
we were fast anchored to a floe. There was a perfect 
calm ; the sky, except at the horizon, had a dense canopy 
of cumulus clouds, which rested on the summits of the 
hills of Louis Philippe Land to the west; and when the 
sun was just below the horizon, the soft greys and blues 
of the clouds, andthe spotless whiteness of the ice as it 


Z 
a 


354 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


floated in the black and glassy sea, were tinted with the 
most delicate of colours—faint purples and rosy hues, 
blues, and greens, passing into translucent yellows. At 
midnight the solitude was grand and impressive, perhaps 
the more so since we had for well-nigh a week been 
drifting among bergs, with dense fog and very squally 
weather. No sound disturbed the silence; at times a 
flock of the beautiful sheath-bills would hover round the 
vessel, fanning the air with their soundless wings. All 
was in such unison, all in such perfect harmony ; but it 
was a passing charm. - Soon we had to think of more 
prosaic things, and reluctantly we turned our thoughts to 
the cargo we were to seek.. 

This is the picture of a calm midnight in mid-summer, 
different, indeed, from the heavy weather we experienced 
at other times, when for days we sheltered behind bergs 
and streams of pack, during black nights thick with fog 
or snow. One of the gales we encountered, the skipper 
described as the hardest that ever blew in the Arctic or, 
Antarctic ; and, indeed, it was stiff. For ten hours we 
‘steamed as hard as we could against it, and at the, end 
had only made one knot. Picture to yourselves a sailing- 
vessel: what a different agency we have now! Where 
Cook, Ross, Weddell, and others would have been in the 
greatest peril, we with steam were comparatively safe. 

The records of air temperature are very remarkable ; 
our lowest temperature was 20°8° Fahr., our highest 37°6° 
Fahr.—only a difference of 16°8° Fahr, in the total range 
for a period extending slightly over two months. Com- 


pare this with our climate, where in a single day and 


‘ 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 355 


night there may be a variation of more than twice that 
amount. 

During the five months since our return, I have experi- 
enced in London temperatures ten degrees higher than 
on either of our crossings of the Equator, and five degrees 
lower than our lowest recorded temperature in the 
Antarctic. 

The average temperatures show a still more remarkable 
uniformity. December averaged 31714° Fahr. for one 
hundred and fifteen readings; January, 31'10° Fahr. for 
one hundred and ninety-eight readings ; February, 29°65” 
‘for one hundred and sixteen readings—a range of less 
than 1'5° Fahr. This seems worthy of the special attention 
of future Antarctic explorers, for may it not indicate a 
similar uniformity of temperature throughout the year? 
Antarctic cold has been much dreaded by some; the 
four hundred and twenty-nine readings I took during 
December, January, and February, show an average 
. temperature of only 30°76° Fahr. This was in the very 
height of summer, in latitudes corresponding to that 
of the Farée Islands in the North, but I believe the 
temperature of winter does not vary so much from that 
of the summer as in the North. 


Land—What land we saw was entirely snow-clad, 
except in the steepest slopes, where the snow was unable 
to lie. These uncovered parts appeared quite black. 
On the 12th of January 1893, the Balzna discovered a 
tract of mountainous land lying to the S.W. of Erebus 
and Terror Gulf ; this land has been more fully described 


356 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


by Captain Larsen, who later in the year traced it out in 
about 60° W. from 65° S. to 68° S., whence the land seemed 
to trend eastwards. It is high, rocky land, and entirely 
snow-clad. In about 65° S. and 584° W. he discovered 
two active volcanoes which he has named Jason and 
Sarsee. Captain Larsen landed on the South Orkneys 
and Seymour Island, and in the latter he found some 
fossils which had fallen from a decomposing cliff These 
are the first fossils ever brought from Antarctica. There 
are specimens among them of Cuzuciullea, Cytherea, and 
Nat@a, and pieces of a coniferous tree. They are pro- 
bably of the Tertiary age, and indicate a warmer climate 
than now prevails in these high southern latitudes. Dr. 
Donald had the advantage of landing in the region of 
Erebus and Terror Bay, and the Active, the vessel in 


which he sailed, passed through an unknown strait in 
Joinville Land. 


Biology.—Whales were the object of our voyage, and we 
saw many, but none that were worth the catching. Whilst 
in the ice we met with three kinds—Finners (probably 
Physalus Australis), called ‘Blue Whales’ by Captain 
Larsen of the Norwegian vessel ‘Jason,’ others strongly 
resembling the Pacific Hunchback Whale, and Bottle- 
nose Whale, two of which he captured. Besides these, 
there was present in considerable numbers the grampus 
or sword-fish (Orca), conspicuous by its long dorsal fin. 
Ross says that in Erebus and Terror Gulf, on New Year’s 
Day 1843, ‘great numbers of the largest-sized black 


whales were lying upon the water in all directions: their 


‘ 


— 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 357 


enormous breadth quite astonished us. At that tlme he 
was within a mile of the position held by us on Christmas 
Eve 1892 (viz. in 64° S. 55° 28’ W.). Elsewhere also, he 
talks of a whale ‘greatly resembling, but said to be distinct 
from, the Greenland Whale.’! It was chiefly upon the 
authority of these two statements, in addition to some 
others made by Ross, that the Dundee and Norwegian 
whaling-fleet ventured to the south last year. None of 
the vessels saw any sign of a whale in the least resembling 
the Greenland or Bowhead Whale (Lalena mysticetus), 
although they were in the ice for a period extending over 
two months, Are we to conclude that Ross was mistaken, 
or that he has made a misleading statement? I think 
not. All we can say is that we failed to confirm Ross’s 
statement, and that, on further search, the whale ‘greatly 
resembling the Greenland Whale’ may yet be found. 
Indeed the vessels of Captain Larsen’s fleet, during their 
subsequent voyage in 1893-94, gave chase to a whale 
which seemed to resemble the Bowhead, but failed to 
capture it. We shall see whether the plucky little Nor- 
wegian vessel Antarctic, that is pushing to 78° S.,in the 
region of Victoria Land, has better luck this season. 

Ross says that the whales he saw were ‘/yzze’ on the 
water, and this is one great characteristic of Lalena 
mysticetus. Contrary to the habits of the Finner Whales in 
the north, on more than one occasion we saw the southern 
Finners also /yzng on the water, and sometimes the dorsal 


fin seemed to have been almost entirely torn away, perhaps 


+ Ross’s boyage, vol. i. p. 169. 


358 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


by the ice. But it is hardly possible that Ross could have 
been thus deceived after thirteen years’ experience in 
Arctic Seas. Besides, he also adds, ‘their enormous 
breadth quite astonished us.’ This is a second great 
characteristic. The Bowhead Whale has a great, broad, 
flat back, with a head one-third the total length of its 
body. The finners which we saw had a bony vertebral 
ridge, and very much smaller heads. 

On the 16th of December, when we first made ice, we 
passed among thousands of finner whales. Many came 
quite close to the ship, and, as far as the eye could reach 
in all directions, one could see their curved backs, and see 
and hear their resounding ‘blasts. Azphasta swarmed 
in the water. Many blue petrels, and myriads of Cape 
pigeons were flying around, and settling on the surface. 

On the 26th of January, while out in a boat, | saw what 
at first appeared to be a rolling piece of ice, but what was 
in reality a white finner whale. 

The whale which I have said strongly resembled the 
Pacific Hunchback Whale (Megaptera versabilis), 1 have 
seen going ‘tail up,’ a characteristic of the Bowhead 
Whale. It has a broader and flatter back than the finner 
whale mentioned, but can scarcely be said to resemble 
Balena mysticetus. 

On the outward and homeward voyage, we con- 
stantly met with great schools of dolphins and porpoises, 
as well as, on several occasions, with whales, but I must 
confess that I found identification very difficult. At Port 
Stanley I secured a ground porpoise, the skeleton of which 


is now in University College Museum, Dundee. It was 


. —5 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 359 


a curious fact that in almost every case the schools of 
dolphins and porpoises were going, more or less, in the 
direction of the vessel, and one wonders if there were any 
particular reason for this. Was it migration? Were those 
we met with in October and November migrating south- 
ward at the approach of the northern winter, and those 
we saw south of the line in November and December 
moving southward with the southern summer? Similarly, 
were those seen by us in southern latitudes in March and 
April fleeing from the southern winter, and those that 
passed us in April and May going northward with the 
approach of the northern summer ? 

We met with only four species of seals, all of them 
being true seals, and belonging to the genus Szenorhyn- 
chus (Allen). The Sea Elephant seal was not seen, nor 
were any of the Otariide. The four were—the Sea 
Leopard (Stenorhynchus leptonyx), Weddell’s False Sea 
Leopard (Stenorhynchus Weddelliz), a creamy white seal 
with a darker dorsal stripe, the so-called Crab-Eating 
Seal or White Antarctic Seal (Stenorhynchus carcinophaga), 
and Ross’s Large-Eyed Seal (Stenxorhynchus Rossit). Be- 
sides these there was another, which I think was certainly 
a younger form of the Sea Leopard. 

The creamy white seals, the so-called Crab-Eating 
Seals, and the mottled grey seals (Ross’s Seal), were 
in greatest abundance; these lay four, five, or even ten 
on a single piece of pack-ice; the greatest number I 
saw on one piece of ice at a time was forty-seven. On 
one occasion we found some seals on a tilted berg, and 


so high was the ledge above the level of the water that 


360 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


our men clambered up with difficulty and secured their 
prey. This illustrates their great power of jumping out 
of the water. I have seen them rising eight or ten fect 
above the sea, and cover distances of fully twenty feet 
in length. 

The mode of progression of true seals is well known ; 
but although on zerra firma man can easily outrun them, 
yet on the pack they glide onward while their pursuecr 
sinks deeply in the snow. 

The present generation had never seen man, and at 
his approach they did not attempt to flee, but surveyed 
him open-mouthed and fearful, while he laid them low 
with club or bullet. Sometimes they were so lazy with 
sleep that I have several times seen a man strike one 
in the ribs with the muzzle of his gun, till, wondering 
what was disturbing its slumbers, it raised its head, 
only too quickly to fall pierced by a bullet. Seldom 
did they escape—one bullet meant one seal. On the 
last day of sealing we were among a great host of 
the large Sea Leopards, and as we were returning to 
the ship they were moaning loudly. This was said.to 
be a sign that they were about to start on a long journey ; 
but was it not rather a sigh of relief on seeing their 
slaughterers’ craft run up her bunting, and announce 
to all that she was a full ship, and that her thirst for 
blood was quenched ? 

While we continue to require sacks, while we persist 
in wearing patent-leather shoes, and while we satisfy our 
fancies with certain purses and card-cases, the slaughter 


of these seals will continue. But I would protest against 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 361 


the indiscriminate massacre which takes place in order 
to supply blubber, as well as hides, for the purposes 
indicated. Old and young, females with young, are 
slaughtered alike, and should this continue, these seals, 
like the Antarctic Fur Seals at the beginning of the 
century, will undoubtedly be quickly exterminated. 

In December all the seals were in bad condition, 
thinly blubbered, and grievously scarred, and it is note- 
worthy that the females appeared to be as freely scarred 
as the males. During January their condition improved, 
and by February they were heavily blubbered and free 
of scars. The males were apparently as numerous as 
the females, but I made no definite statistics. Loving 
the sun, they lie on the pack all day digesting their 
meal of the previous night, which had consisted of fish 
or small crustaceans, or both; the penguin is also occa- 
sionally the victim of the Sea Leopard, and I have found 
stones in their stomachs. These stones are likely part 
of the geological collection which the penguins are accus- 
tomed to carry about with them. Nematode worms were 
almost invariably present in the stomachs. 

All the seals were obtained from the pack-ice, in the 
bluest and clearest water; the Sea Leopard was on the 
outermost streams of the ice, and was most frequently 
found singly, but sometimes in pairs or threes on one 
piece of ice. Of Weddell’s False Sea Leopards, we on 
board the Balena only saw about four altogether, and 
these singly; Dr. Donald, however, met with greater 
numbers. Two were quite young, and one of these we 
attempted to bring on board alive, but failed. 


: 2A 


362 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


Of birds we saw in all some twenty species, the most 
remarkable being the gregarious penguin. The first I 
saw of these birds was off the shores of the Falkland 
Islands, over two hundred miles from the nearest land. 
The vessel was making little headway through the water, 
the wind having fallen, and, on my coming on deck at mi¢- 
day, my attention was called to ‘some small seals, which 
where playing round the stern of the vessel. They were 
swimming calmly about in the water, now immersing 
themselves entirely, now lifting their heads only above 
the water much as one sees seals doing in the evening, 
or on a bleak day, when they prefer to remain in the 
water rather than come out and lie on the ice, as they 
do when the sun shines brightly. What the sailors took 
for seals were, however, really macaroni penguins (Eudypies 
chrysolophus), with their silky hair-like feathers looking 
like wet fur. The sailors quite refused to recognise | 
feathers in this close-fitting fleece, black on the back 
and white on the breast. Penguins also move through 
the water like shoals of very active, very small porpoises. 
On the ice they move swiftly, gliding upon their breasts, 
and using their fore limbs as well as their hind limbs to 
help them along. Sometimes also they may be seen 
walking in an erect position. After this they were our 
daily companions, and we saw in all four or five different 
species. We captured some very fine Emperor penguins ; 
very monarchs, clothed in silken robes of white and black, 
and decked with gold and purple. 

In the vicinity of the Danger Islands we first saw the 
sheath-bill (Chzonzs alba). We saw, too, the Snowy Petrel, 


‘ 


FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 363 


the greedy Giant Petrel, and the Blue Petrel. Mother 
Carey’s chickens are also to be found here, as in all 
other parts of the oceanic world. There are no land 
plants known to be within the Antarctic Circle. 

All these observations were made, and these specimens 
procured, between December 16, 1892, and February 18, 
1893. On the latter date we had glutted our ship with 
seals, and turned her head homewards. The following 
afternoon we passed Clarence Islands, the most easterly 
of the South Shetland group, its three bold ridges loom- 
ing through mist and scud. The land was wild and 
majestic, towering over the adjacent icebergs, Like 
other land we had seen, it was entirely snow-clad, except 
on the most precipitous slopes, which were short and 
abrupt to the south, but long and easy to the north. 
On February 20 at 9 A.M. we passed our last berg in 
about 60° 27’ S. and 53° 4o’ W., or about forty miles 
north of Clarence Island. Port Stanley was reached on 
the morning of 28th February ; Portland on 24th May ; 
and finally, on 30th May, we came to rest at Dundee. 

It is to be hoped that before long we shall see another 
‘expedition sailing to Antarctic Seas, but one in which 
scientific research will be the primary object. A rush 
to the South Pole is not what we urge; but a systematic 
exploration of the whole South Polar regions. The 
outline of Antarctica has to be definitely mapped out; 
we must sound, dredge, and trawl; make temperature 
and salinity observations throughout the breadth and 
depth of the ocean, and study the direction, force, and 


nature of oceanic currents. We can study the problems 


364 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 


of the Ice Age, which are there alone to be seen in active 
operation, and we must investigate the nature and dis- 
tribution of the rocks, which contain for the palzonto- 
logist an entirely new fossil fauna and flora. For the 
botanist, unfortunately, we cannot hold out any hopes, 
but for the zoologist there awaits a most interesting and 
extensive fauna. Pendulum observations ought also to 
be made; and above all we must take systematic mag- 
netic observations both on land and at sea, and make 
meteorological observations at several points throughout 
the entire year. Much can, and we hope much will, be 
done by private enterprise ; but can we not make a national 
effort, as we did in the days of Cook, Weddell, Ross, and 
the Challenger, and show that the Britain of to-day is— 
not behind the Britain of our fathers? 


Printed by T. and A. ConsTABLE, Printers to Her Majesty 
at the Edinburgh University Press 


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ongmans, Greer & Co, London & New York. 


. A Classified 


OF WORKS IN 


Catalogue 


GENERAL LITERATURE 


PUBLISHED BY 


LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO. 


39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON, E.C, 
gi Ayp 93 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK, anp 32 HORNBY ROAD, BOMBAY, 


aU 


CONTENTS. 

PAGE PAGE 

BADMINTON LIBRARY (THE)- - 10; MANUALS OF CATHOLIC PHIL- 
BIOGRAPHY, PERSONAL ME- OSOPHY = + = ese 

MOIRS, &c. - . - - - 7 | MENTAL, MORAL, AND POLITICAL 
CHILDREN’S BOOKS ~ = 3 @@| PHILOSOPHY = += - 14 

CLASSICAL LITERATURE TRANS- MISCELLANEOUS a CRITICAL 
LATIONS, ETC. - “ - TT: WORKS - -: 4 29 

COOKERY, DOMESTIC MANAGE- MISCELLANEOUS THEOLOGICAL 
MERCED ON rR ce Cr wat ea) WHORES = en a ts Be 
EVOLUTION, ANTHROPOLOGY, POETRY AND THE DRAMA ~~ - 18 

&c. - - - - - - 17 POLITICAL eno AND jhe 
FICTION, HUMOUR, &.+ - + 2x| NOMICS - - aes 16 
FUR AND FEATHER SERIES - 12|POPULAR SCIENCE - -  - = 24 
HISTORY, POLITICS, POLITY, SILVER LIBRARY (THE) - 27 
POLITICAL MEMOIRS, &c. - - 3}]SPORT AND PASTIME - 10 

LANGUAGE, So eee es Pah TRAVEL AND pe tC aeen THE 
SCIENCE OF - - - 16 COLONIES, &c. - - 8 
LONGMANS’ Sie OF BOOKS VETERINARY MEDICINE, &C. - @Q 
FORGIRLS © = 26| WORKS OF REFERENCE- - ~- 25 

INDEX OF AUTHORS AND EDITORS. 

Page Sn 2 Page Page 
phon (evelyn) - 3,18| Bacon - 9,14 | Boedder (B.)_ - - 16} Cholmondeley-Pennell 
— a) - = 14,15 | Baden- Powell (B. H. 3 | Bolland(W.E.)~ - 14 H,) es - Ir 
— EA -) - 14| Bagehot (W.) - ” 16, ~ Bosanquet (B.) - 14 | Christie (unm) 19 
Acland (A. H. D. ) = 3/| Bagwell (R.) - Boyd (Rev.A. K. H.)7,29,31| Cicero — - 18 
Acton (Elita) - ~ 28 Bain (Alexander) - 4 Brassey (Lady) - §8,9| Clarke (Rev. R. F) - - 16 
Acworth (H, A.) - 18 Baker (James) - - — (Lord) 3, 8, 12, 16| Clodd (Edward) - 17 
Adeane (J. H.) . 7 7 |—— (Sir S. W.) - 3 Bray (C. and Mrs.) - 14} Clutterbuck (W. J.)- 9 
Aischylus 4-5 18 | Balfour (A, J.) - 11,31 | Bright (J. F.) - - 3 | Cochrane (ay iy 19 
Ainger (A. C.) - - 12| Ball(J.T.)  - 3 | Broadfoot (Major W.) 10] Comyn (L. N.) - 26 
Albemarle (Ear! of) - Ir Baring-Gould (Rev. Brégger (W.C.)—- 7| Conington (John) - 18 
Alden (W. L.) - - 2 S.) - - 27,29 | Brown (J. Moray) - ir} Conybeare (Rev. W. J.) 
Allen (Grant) - - 24 Paes (Rev. sb A. : rerio (H. opt g| _ & Howson (Dean) 27 
Allingham (W,) - 18,29) Mrs 16| Buck(H, A.) - 12| Coventry (A.) - - It 
Anstey (F.) - - 21) Bare (T. 8.) ~  29| Buckle (H. T.) - - 3 | Cox (Harding) - 10 
Aristophanes - - 18 | Beaconsfield ‘Parl of) 21] Bull(T.) - - -  28| Crake (Rev. A. D.) - 26 
Aristotle - -  +14,18| Beaufort (Duke of) - 10,11 | Burke (U, R.) - - | Creighton (Bishop) - 4 
Armstrong (G. F, Becker (Prof.) - - 18 | Burrows (Montagu) 4| Cuningham (G. C,) - 3 

mint - Ls 19 | Beesly (A. H.) - - 19 | Butler (E. A.) - 24 | Curzon (Hon. G. N.) 3 
Arey 19, 29 | Bell (Mrs. Hugh) - 1g | —— (Samuel) - - 29| Cutts (Rev. E. L.) - 4 

nek ( . edwin - 8,19 | Bent (J, Theodore) - 8 
— (Dr. T.) 3 | Besant (Sir Walter)- 3 Davidson (W,L,) - 14, 16 
Ashley (Ww, os )- -  16| Bickerdyke (J.) - 11, 12 | Cameron of Lochiel 1z| Davies (J. F.) - = 18 
Astor (J. J.) | Bicknell (A, CC.) - 8| Cannan (E.) - - 17| De la Saussaye (C.) - 32 
Atelier du Tys (Author Bird (R.) - - 31 | —— (F. Laura) . 13| Deland (Mrs.) - - 26 
of) - 26 | Black (Clementina) . 21 | Carmichael (J.) * «79 Dent(G)T) “+ —» us 
Blackwell (Elizabeth) 7 Chesney (SirG,) - 3) Deploige -  - 17 
Babington(W.D.)- 17! Boase (Rev. C. W.)- 4! Chisholm (G,G.) - 25] De Salis (Mrs.) - ~ 28, 29 


INDEX OF AUTHORS AND EDiTORS—continued. 


Page 
De T hae ie (e j- 3 
Devas (C. - 16 
Dickinson ie L.) - 4 
Dougall (L.)  - - 21 
Dowell (S.) - - 16 
Doyle (A, Conan) - 21 
Dreyfus (Irma) - 30 


Du Bois (W. E. B.),- 4 
Dufferin (Marquis of) 


Dunbar (Mary F,) - 20 
Ebrington rs iscount) 12 
Egbert (J. C.) - - 18 
Ellis ( Say” > - 13 
Ewald (H,) - - 4 
Falkener (h.) - - iy 
Farnell (G. 5.) - - 18 
Farrar (Dean) - - 16, 21 
Ficeaer am (Sir F.) To 
Florian - - 19 
Follett (M. P.) - - 4 
Ford (H.) - - - 13 
Fowler (Edith H,) - aI 
Francis (Francis) = 13 
Freeman (Edward A.) 4 
Frothingham (A, L.) 40 
Froude (James A.) 4, 7 9,21 
Furneaux (W,) 24 
Galton (W. F.) ¥7 
Gardiner (Se pia R. ) 4 
Gerard (D,) 26 
Gibbons ( Sh ~I11, 12 
Gibson (Hon. H.) - 13 
Gill (H. J.) - - 22 
Gleig (Rev. G. R.) - 8 
Goethe - - 19 
Graham es A, ) = 13, 21 
—— (G.F - 16 
Grant (Sir . ) - - T4 
Graves (R. P.) - a 
Green (T, Hill) - 14 
Greville (C. C.F) - 4 
Grey (Maria) - 26 
Grose (T. H.) - - 14 
Grove (F,C.) - - II 
—— (Mrs. Lilly) - 11 
Gurney (Rev, A.) - 19 
Gwilt(])j- - - 30 
Eee (H, Rider) 21 

12 


Halliwell- Phillipps (. ) 8 


Hamlin (A.D. F,) - 30 
Harding (S. B.) - 4 
Hart (Albert B.) - 4 
Harte (Bret) - - 22 
Hartwig (G,) - - 24 
Hassall (A.) - - 6 
Haweis (Rev. H, R.) 7, 30 
Hayward (Jane M.) - 24 
Hearn (W. E,) - 4 
Heathcote (J. M.and 

Cc, G, - - 12 
Helmholtz (Hermann 

von) - - - 24, 
Henry (W.) 12 
Herbert (Col. Kenney) 12 
Hewins (W. A. §. 4 


Hillier (G. Lacy) - 
Hodgson (ShadworthH. ya 
Holroyd (Maria J.) - 7 


Hope iste - 22 


Hornung (EH. W.)) - 22 
Houston (D, FF.) - 4 
Howell (G.) - . 16 
Howitt (W.) - - 9 
Hudson (W. HH.) - 24 
Hueffer (F. M.) - 7 
Hume (David) - - 14 
Hunt (Rev. W.) 4 


Hutchinson (Horace G11 


Ingelow (Jean) - 19, 26 


] 


Jefferies (Richard) 
ones (H, Bence) 


tas (W. L.) 
owett (Dr. B.) 
foyee | (Pp. W)) - 

ustinian- — - 


Kalisch (M. M, ) 
Kant (L.) - 

Kaye (Sir J. W. ) 
Kerr (Rev. J.) - 
Killick (Rev, A, H 


ohnson (J. & J. H) 


Kitchin (Dr. G. W,) 


Knight (Ef, 


F.) - 
Kostlin (J.) - 


Ladd (G. T.) - 


Lang (Andrew) 5, 10, 11, 13, 


Iq, 17, 16, 19, 20, 


Lascelles (Hon, G,) 


Laurie (8. 8.) - 
Leaf (Walter) - 


Lear (H. L. Sidney) - 


Lecky (W. E, H,) 
Lees (J, A.) 
Lester (L, V.) - 
Lewes (G. H.) - 
Lindley (J.) — - 
Lindsay (Lady) 
Lodge (H, Cy - 
Loftie (Rev. W. J. 
Longman ALS J ) 
— ( on 

— (G, i , 
Lowell (A. L.) - 


Lubbock (Sir John) - - 


Lucan - 
Lyall (Edna) 


Lyttelton (Hon, R, H,) 


Lytton (Earl of) 


MacArthur (Miss E, A.) 17 


Macaulay (Lord) 
MacColl (Canon) 


Page Page 
- 3o| Nansen (F.) ~~ . a 
- 25 | Nesbit (E.) - 20 
30| Newman (Cardinal) = 22 
16 
z 17 
- q4| O'Brien (W.) - - 6 
- 14| Ogle (W.)- - - 18 
Oliphant (Mrs.) - 22 
, | Oliver (W. D,) - 9 
- 32) Onslow (Earl of) - 12 
att 3 Orchard (T. N.) - 3t 
im Osbourne (L) - - 23 
- P| 
a 15 
4) Palmer(A,H.) - 8 
519: 12) Park (W.) - - 13 
x ‘| Parr (Mrs. Louisa) - 26 
Payne- solids (Sir 
- 15 - II, 13 
Peary Mine: Jesepaine) 9 
22, 26, 30 | Peek (F1.) - il 
= 10,11) Pembroke (E arl of) - T2 
- 5| Perring (Sir P.) - tg 
- 31| Phillips(M.) _ - 42 
29 Phillipps-Wolley (Cc. ) TO, 22 
- 5,19] Piatt (S. & J. 20 
- 9} Pleydell-B ouverie(E, O.) 12 
- 7| Pole (W,) - = 13 
- 15| Pollock (W, H. ) - II 
- 25| Poole (W. H. and 
10 Mrs). ~ —- 29 
- 4| Poore (G. V.) - - 31 
)- 4| Potter (J.) + - 16 
ms 13, 30| Prevost (C.) — - - Tl 
13| Pritchett (R.T.)  - 12 
- 11, 12| Proctor (R. A.)- 13, 24, 31 
5 
7 | Quill (A.W) - = 38 
an Buiniven (Mrs) - 9 
1. z re itare (Aj - = 22 
é 19 
Raine (Rev. James) - 4 
Ransome (Cyril) —- 3 
Rhoades (J.)_ - - 18, 20 
5, 6, 20 bree ie (O, ) . 3 
- 6) Rich (A.) 


Macdonald (George) 20, 32 


Macfarren (Sir G, 
Magruder (Julia) 


A.) 


30 
22 


Richardson (Sir B. we) 31 
Cy 


(C,) 
Richman (I. B. ) 


Mackail (J. W.) - 18 | Rickaby (John) - 
Mackinnon (J. ) - 6|— (Joseph) -  - 
Macleod (H.D,) — - 16| Ridley tna E. ie= 
Macpherson iBev. H, A.jr2 | —— (E.) . 
Maher (M.} 16| Riley (J. Ww) - 
Malleson (Col, os B) 5| Roget heeter M.) - 
Mandello (J.) - — - 17| Rokeby (C.) -  - 
Marbot (Baron de) - 7| Rolfsen(N.) - - 
Marquand (A.) - - 30] Romanes (G. J.) 
Marshman (J. es ) - 7 B, 15, 27, 
Martineau ( ames) 32| —— (Mrs.) - - 
Maskelyne (J. N.) - 13| Ronalds (A.) - - 
Matthews ( srander) 22| Roosevelt (T.) - - 
Maunder (S.)_ - - 25| Rossetti (M. F.) - 
Max Muller #) Russell (Bertrand) - 
5, 16, 30, 32 
May si “Ts -frskine| 6 
Meade 26| Saintsbury (G.) 
eRe. Sn Whyte) 22| Sandars (T. C.) 


Merivale (Dean) 
Merriman (H. 8.) 
Mill Games 


alt 


Milner (G. 


) 
Miss Molly (Author of) 


Molesworth (Mrs.) - 


6| Seebohm (F.) - 


22 


ohn Stnae . - 15, _ 


36 
26 


15| Selss (A. M. 


Montague (F,C.) - 6 
Moore (T.) - 25 
— (Rev, Edward) - - 14 
Morris (W.) = 20, 22, 31 
—— (Mowbray) - Ir 
Mosso (A.) > 1 15 
Mulhall (M. G.) . 17 
Munk (W.) = ws 7 
Murray (R. F.) - 20 


Selous (F. C.) - 


) 
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o| Shakespeare 
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Shearman (M,) 


Sheppard ee Edgar) 


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—— (W.P. Haskett) 
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Solovyoft (V. 8.) 
Sophocles 
Soulsby (Lucy H.) - 


eo 
an aaAaS 


7 
20, 32 
8 


13 

4 
31 
17 


Page 
Spedding (J) - - 7,14 
eee (Bishop) - 24 
Steel (A Fe - - 10 
— (J. H.) . Io 
Stephen (Sir Jar 8) 8 
—— (Leslie) - 9 
aa a (H. Morse) 6 
—— 8 
Stevens R. Ww. ) 31 
Stevenson (R, L.) - 23, 26 


tee tw eer) 


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Sturgis i} ) 20 
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(Earl of) - Il 
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Sully (James) - . 15 
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(Author of) : 32 
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Symes (J, E.) - - 17 
Tacitus - - - 18 
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Tebbutt (C. G. =— 
Thompson (N. G,) - 13 
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aaah hes {Sire 01) 7 
ee Py 17 
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Tyndall 9 
Tyrrell (R. ¥ijp- - 18 
Upton (F. K, sod 
Bertha) - 26 
Verney (Frances P. 
and Margaret M.) 8 
Vincent (J. E.) - - v7 
Virgil - 18 
Vivekananda (Swami) 32 
“o 
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Walford (Mrs.) - 23 
Walker (Jane H.) = 29 
Walpole ae) = 6 
Walrond (Col. I.) - 10 
Walsingham (Lord): - Ir 
Walter (J.) 8 


Watson (A, E, 7) <21,18 
Waylen (H. S. HL) - go 
Webb (Mr, and 


Pesan - - Wy 
reTRtee cle tal ak 
Weber A, ; i 15 
Weir (Capt. R.) - Ir 
West (B. B.) - ~ 23, 31 
Weyman (Stanley) - 23 


 Whately(Archbishop) r4, 3 


— (E. Jane) - 


; Whishaw (F. J.) + 9,2 
Whitelaw (Re - - 1 
Wilcocks (J, C - 13 
Willich (C. M,) - 25 
Witham (T.M.)  - 1a 
Wolff (H. W.)- = 6 
Wood oer a - 25 
Bay ra = «to 
Wood-Martin iw: G) 6 


Wordsworth th ticaneth) ie 
Wylie (J. H.) - 


e 
Youatt (W.) 


Zeller (E.) - 


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