The Home Of The Blizzard Part 56

March began in earnest with much snow and monotonous days of wind. By contrast, a few hours of sunny calm were appreciated to the full. The face of the landscape changed; the rocky crevices filling flush with the low mounds of snow which trailed along and off the ridges.

On March 16 every one was relieved to hear that the 'Aurora' had arrived safely in Hobart, and that Wild and his party were all well. But the news brought disappointment too, for we had always a lingering ray of hope that there might be sufficient coal to bring the vessel back to Adelie Land. Later on we learned that on account of the shortage of funds the s.h.i.+p was to be laid up at Hobart until the following summer.

In the meantime, Professors David and Ma.s.son were making every effort to raise the necessary money. In this they were a.s.sisted by Captain Davis, who went to London to obtain additional donations.

It was now a common thing for those of us who had gone to bed before midnight to wake up in the morning and find that quite a budget of wireless messages had been received. It took the place of a morning paper and we made the most of the intelligence, discussing it from every possible point of view. Jeffryes and Bickerton worked every night from 8 P.M. until 1 A.M., calling at short intervals and listening attentively at the receiver. In fact, notes were kept of the intensity of the signals, the presence of local atmospheric electrical discharges--"static"--or intermittent sounds due to discharges from snow particles--St. Elmo's fire--and, lastly, of interference in the signals transmitted. The latter phenomenon should lead to interesting deductions, for we had frequent evidence to show that the wireless waves were greatly impeded or completely abolished during times of auroral activity.

Listening at the wireless receiver must have been very tedious and nerve-racking work, as so many advent.i.tious sounds had to be neglected.

There was, first of all, the noise of the wind as it swept by the Hut; then there was the occasional crackling of "St. Elmo's fire"; the dogs in the veranda shelter were not always remarkable for their quietness; while within the Hut it was impossible to avoid slight sounds which were often sufficient to interrupt the sequence of a message. At times, when the aurora was visible, signals would often die away, and the only alternative was to wait until they recurred, meanwhile keeping up calls at regular intervals in case the ether was not "blocked." So Jeffryes would sometimes spend the whole evening trying to transmit a single message, or, conversely, trying to receive one. By experience it was found easier to transmit and receive wireless messages between certain hours in the evening, while not infrequently, during the winter months, a whole week would go by and nothing could be done. During such a period auroral displays were usually of nightly occurrence. Then a "freak night" would come along and business would be brisk at both terminals.

It was often possible for Jeffryes to "hear" Wellington, Sydney, Melbourne and Hobart, and once he managed to communicate directly with the last-named. Then there were numerous s.h.i.+ps pa.s.sing along the southern sh.o.r.es of Australia or in the vicinity of New Zealand whose "calls" were audible on "good nights." The wars.h.i.+ps were at times particularly distinct, and occasionally the "chatter in the ether" was so confusing that Sawyer, at Macquarie Island, would signal that he was "jammed."

The "wireless" gave us another interest in life, and plenty of outside occupation when the stays became loose or an accident occurred. It served to relieve some of the tedium of that second year:

Day after day the same Only a little worse.

On March 13 there was a tremendous fall of snow, and worst "pea-souper"

we had had during the previous year. Next day everything was deluged, and right up the glacier there were two-foot drifts, despite a sixty-mile wind.

It was very interesting to follow the changes which occurred from day to day. First of all, under the flail of the incessant wind, a crust would form on the surface of the snow of the type we knew as "piecrust,"

when out sledging. It was never strong enough to bear a man, but the sledge-runners would clear it fairly well if the load were not too heavy. Next day the crust would be etched, and small flakes and pellets would be carried away until the snow was like fleece. a.s.suming that the wind kept up (which it always did) long, shallow concavities would now be scooped out as the "lobules" of the fleece were carried away piecemeal. These concavities became deeper, hour by hour and day by day, becoming at last the troughs between the crests of the snow-waves or sastrugi. All this time the surface would be gradually hardening and, if the sun chanced to s.h.i.+ne for even a few hours every day, a s.h.i.+ning glaze would gradually form on the long, bevelled mounds. It was never a wise thing to walk on these polished areas in finnesko and this fact was always learnt by experience.

Above the Hut, where the icy slopes fell quickly to the sea, the snow would lie for a few days at the very most, but, lower down, where the glacier ran almost level for a short distance to the harbour ice, the drifts would lie for months at the mercy of the wind, furrowed and cut into miniature canyons; wearing away in fragments until the blue ice showed once more, clear and wind-swept.

Towards the end of March the wind gave a few exhibitions of its power, which did not augur well for the maximum periods of the winter. A few diary jottings are enough to show this:

"March 23. During the previous night the wind steadily rose to an eighty-mile 'touch' and upwards. It was one of those days when it is a perpetual worry to be outside.

"March 24. Doing at least seventy miles per hour during the morning.

About 8 P.M. there was a temporary lull and a rise of.15 in the barometer. Now, 9.30 P.M., it is going 'big guns.' The drift is fairly thick and snow is probably falling.

"March 25. Much the same as yesterday.

"March 28. In a seventy-five-mile wind, Hodgeman had several fingers frost-bitten this morning while attending to the anemograph.

"March 29. It was quite sunny when we opened the trap-door, though it blew about sixty miles per hour with light drift.

"March 30. The wind is doing itself full justice. About 8 P.M. it ranged between ninety-five and one hundred miles per hour, and now the whole hut is tremulous and the stove-pipe vibrates so that the two large pots on the stove rattle."

At the beginning of April, McLean laid the foundations of The Adelie Blizzard which recorded our life for the next seven months. It was a monthly publication, and contributions were invited from all on every subject but the wind. Anything from light doggerel to heavy blank verse was welcomed, and original articles, letters to the Editor, plays, reviews on books and serial stories were accepted within the limits of our supply of foolscap paper and type-writer ribbons.

_____________________________________________________ / / THE ADELIE BLIZZARD / Registered at the General Plateau Office / / for transmission by wind as a newspaper / -o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- ----CONTENTS---- o-o-o-o- Editorial.............................. Page 1 Southern Sledging Song................. " 2 A Phantasm of the Snow................. " 3 The Romance of Exploration First Crossing of Greenland (Nansen). " 8 Ode to Tobacco.......................... " 10 Punch, the dinner epilogue.............. " 11 To the Editor........................... " 12 Scott's British Antarctic Expedition.... " 13 Statics and Antarctics.................. " 14 Wireless--the realization............... " 16 Birth's, Deaths and Marriages........... " 17 The Evolution of Women.................. " 18 A Concise Narrative..................... " 21 The Daylight Proposition................ " 23 Meteorological and Magnetic Notes....... " 24 Calendar Rhymes......................... " 25 Answers to Correspondents............... " 26 o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- VOL-I--No. I April, 1913 __________________________________________________________

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It was the first Antarctic publication which could boast a real cable column of news of the day. Extracts from the April number were read after dinner one evening and excited much amus.e.m.e.nt. An "Ode to Tobacco"

was very popular, and seemed to voice the enthusiasm of our small community, while "The Evolution of Women" introduced us to a once-familiar subject. The Editor was later admitted by wireless to the Journalists' a.s.sociation (Sydney).

Many have asked the question, "What did you do to fill in the time during the second year?"

The duties of cook and night-watchman came to each man once every week, and meteorological and magnetic observations went on daily. Then we were able to devote a good deal of time to working up the scientific work accomplished during the sledging journeys. The wireless watches kept two men well occupied, and in spare moments the chief recreation was reading. There was a fine supply of ill.u.s.trated journals and periodicals which had arrived by the 'Aurora', and with papers like the 'Daily Graphic', 'Ill.u.s.trated London News', 'Sphere' and 'Punch', we tried to make up the arrears of a year in exile. The "Encyclopaedia Britannica"

was a great boon, being always "the last word" in the settlement of a debated point. Chess and cards were played on several occasions. Again, whenever the weather gave the smallest opportunity, there were jobs outside, digging for cases, attending to the wireless mast and, in the spring, geological collecting and dredging. If the air was clear of drift, and the wind not over fifty miles per hour, one could spend a pleasant hour or more walking along the sh.o.r.e watching the birds and noting the changes in "scenery" which were always occurring along our short "selection" of rocks. During 1912 we had been able to study all the typical features of our novel and beautiful environment, but 1913 was the period of "intensive cultivation" and we would have gladly forgone much of it. Divine service was usually held on Sunday mornings, but in place of it we sometimes sang hymns during the evening, or arranged a programme of sacred selections on the gramophone. There was a great loss in our singing volume after the previous year, which Hodgeman endeavoured to remedy by striking up an accompaniment on the organ.

Cooking reached its acme, according to our standard, and each man became remarkable for some particular dish. Bage was the exponent of steam puddings of every variety, and Madigan could always be relied upon for an unfailing batch of puff-pastry. Bickerton once started out with the object of cooking a ginger pudding, and in an unguarded moment used mixed spices instead of ginger. The result was rather appetizing, and "mixed-spice pudding" was added to an original list. McLean specialized in yeast waffles, having acquired the art of tossing pancakes. Jeffryes had come on the scene with a limited experience, but his first milk scones gained him a reputation which he managed to make good. Hodgeman fell back on the cookery book before embarking on the task of preparing dinner, but the end-product, so to speak, which might be invariably expected for "sweets" was tapioca pudding. Penguin meat had always been in favour. Now special care was devoted to seal meat, and, after a while, mainly owing to the rather copious use of onion powder, no one could say for certain which was which.

During the previous year, yeast had been cultivated successfully from Russian stout. The experiments were continued, and all available information was gathered from cookery books and the Encyclopaedia.

Russian stout, barley wine, apple rings, sugar, flour and mould from potatoes were used in several mixtures and eventually fermentation was started. Bread-making was the next difficulty, and various instructions were tried in succession. The method of "trial and error" was at last responsible for the first light spongy loaf, and then every night-watchman cultivated the art and baked for the ensuing day.

On April 8 the snow had gathered deeply everywhere and we had some exercise on skis. Several of the morainic areas were no longer visible, and it was possible to run between the rocks for a considerable distance. A fresh breeze came up during the afternoon and provided a splendid impetus for some good slides. During the short calm, twenty-six seals landed on the harbour-ice.

On the morning of the same day Mary gave birth to five pups in the Transit House. The place was full of cracks, through which snow and wind were always driving, and so we were not surprised when four of them were found to have died. The survivor was named "Hoyle" (a cognomen for our old friend Hurley) and his doings gave us a new fund of entertainment.

The other dogs had been penned in the veranda and in tolerable weather were brought outside to be fed. Carrying an axe, Madigan usually went down to the boat harbour, followed by the expectant pack, to where there were several seal carcases. These lay immovably frozen to the ice, and were cut about and hacked so that the meat in section reminded one of the grain of a log of red gum, and it was certainly quite as hard. When Madigan commenced to chop, the dogs would range themselves on the lee side and "field" the flying chips.

On April 16 the last penguin was seen on a ledge overhanging an icy cove to the east. Apparently its moulting time had not expired, but it was certainly a very miserable bird, smothered in small icicles and snow and partly exposed to a sixty-five mile wind with the temperature close to -10 degrees F. Petrels were often seen flying along the foresh.o.r.es and no wind appeared to daunt them. It was certainly a remarkable thing to witness a snow-petrel, small, light and fragile, making headway over the sea in the face of an eighty-mile hurricane, fluttering down through the spindrift to pick up a morsel of food which it had detected. Close to the western cliffs there was a trail of brash-ice where many birds were often observed feeding on Euphausia (crustaceans) in weather when it scarcely seemed possible for any living creature to be abroad.

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The meteorological chart for April 12, 1913, compiled by the Commonwealth Meteorological Bureau

Mr. Hunt appends the following explanation: "A very intense cyclone pa.s.sing south of Macquarie Island, where the barometer fell on the 11th from 29.49 at 9 A.M. to 29.13 at 6 P.M., and the next day to 28.34 at 9 A.M. and 27.91 at 6 P.M. At Adelie Land the barometer was not greatly affected, but rose in sympathy with the pa.s.sage of the 'low' from 28.70 to 28.90 during the twenty-four hours. The influence of this cyclone was very wide and probably embraced both Adelie Land and Tasmania."

Throughout April news by wireless came in slowly and spasmodically, and Jeffryes was becoming resigned to the eccentricities of the place. As an example of the unfavourable conditions which sometimes prevailed: on April 14 the wind was steady, in the nineties, with light drift and, at times, the aurora would illumine the north-west sky. Still, during "quiet" intervals, two messages came through and were acknowledged.

A coded weather report, which had priority over all other messages, was sent out each night, and it is surprising how often Jeffryes managed to transmit this important intelligence. On evenings when receiving was an impossibility, owing to a continual stream of St. Elmo's fire, the three code words for the barometric reading, the velocity and direction of the wind were signalled repeatedly and, on the following night, perhaps, Macquarie Island would acknowledge them. Of course we had to use new signs for the higher wind velocities, as no provision had been made for them in our meteorological code-book. The reports from Macquarie Island and Adelie Land were communicated to Mr. Hunt of the Commonwealth Weather Bureau and to Mr. Bates of the Dominion Meteorological Office, who plotted them out for their daily weather forecasts.

It was very gratifying to learn that the Macquarie Island party to a man had consented to remain at their lonely post and from Ainsworth, their leader, I received a brief report of the work which had been accomplished by each member. We all could appreciate the sacrifice they were making. Then, too, an account was received of the great sledging efforts which had been made by Wild and his men to the west. But it was not till the end of the year that their adventurous story was related to us in detail.

On the 23rd La.s.sie, one of the dogs, was badly wounded in a fight and had to be shot. Quarrels amongst the dogs had to be quelled immediately, otherwise they would probably mean the death of some unfortunate animal which happened to be thrown down amongst the pack. Whenever a dog was down, it was the way of these brutes to attack him irrespective of whether they were friends or foes.

Among our dogs there were several groups whose members always consorted together. Thus, George and La.s.sie were friends and, when the latter was killed, George, who was naturally a miserable, downtrodden creature, became a kind of pariah, morose and solitary and at war with all except Peary and Fix, with whom he and La.s.sie had been a.s.sociated in fights against the rest. The other dogs lived together in some kind of harmony, Jack and Amundsen standing out as particular chums, while the "pups," as we called them--D'Urville, Ross and Wilkes ("Monkey")--were a trio born in Adelie Land and, therefore, comrades in misfortune. Hoyle, as a pup, was treated benevolently by all the others, and entered the fellows.h.i.+p of the other three when he grew up. Among the rest, Mikkel stood out as a good fighter, Colonel as the biggest dog and ringleader against the Peary-Fix faction, Fram as a nervous intractable animal, and Mary as the sole representative of the s.e.x.

It was remarkable that Peary, Fix and George in their hatred of the others, who were penned up in the dog shelter during bad weather, would absent themselves for days on a snow ramp near the Magnetograph House, where they were partly protected from the wind by rocks. George, from being a mere a.s.sociate of Peary and Fix, became more amiable as the year went by, and at times it was quite pathetic to see his attempts at friendliness.

We became very fond of the dogs despite their habit of howling at night and their wolfish ferocity. They always gave one a welcome, in drift or suns.h.i.+ne, and though ruled by the law of force, they had a few domestic traits to make them civilized.

May was a dreaded month because it had been the period of worst wind and drift during 1912. On this occasion the wind velocities over four weeks were not so high and constant, though the snowfall was just as persistent. On the 17th and 18th, however, there was an unexpected "jump" to the nineties. The average over the first twenty-four hours was eighty-three, and on the 18th it attained 93.7 miles per hour. One terrific rise between 6.30 and 7.30 on the night of the 17th was shown as one hundred and three miles on the anemometer--the record up to that time.

Madigan was thrown over and had a hard fall on his arm, smas.h.i.+ng a bottle of the special ink which was used for the anemograph pen. Bage related how he had sailed across the Magnetic Flat by sitting down and raising his arms in the air. He was accompanied by Fix, Peary and George, who were blown along the slippery surface for yards. McLean had a "lively time" cutting ice and bringing in the big blocks. Often he would slide away with a large piece, and "pull up" on a snow patch twenty yards to leeward.

On the 22nd there were hours of gusts which came down like thunderbolts, making us apprehensive for the safety of the wireless masts; we had grown to trust the stability of the Hut. Every one who went outside came back with a few experiences. Jeffryes was roughly handled through not wearing crampons, and several cases of kerosene, firmly stacked on the break-wind, were dislodged and thrown several yards.

Empire Day was celebrated in Adelie Land with a small display. At 2.30 P.M. the Union Jack was hoisted to the topmast and three cheers were given for the King. The wind blew at fifty miles an hour with light drift, temperature -3 degrees F. Empire greetings were sent to the Colonial Secretary, London, and to Mr Fisher, Prime Minister of Australia. These were warmly reciprocated a few days afterwards.

Preceded by a day of whirlies on the 7th and random gusts on the same evening, the wind made a determined attack next morning and carried away the top and part of the middle section of the main wireless mast. It was a very unexpected event, lulled as we were into security by the fact that May, the worst month, had pa.s.sed. On examination it was found that two of the topmast wire stays had chafed through, whilst another had parted. At first it seemed a hopeless task to re-erect the mast, but gradually ways and means were discussed, and we waited for the first calm day to put the theories into execution.