An Unsung Hero: Tom Crean - Antarctic Survivor (40 page)

Although no similar account exists for the other two, it is a strain that must have been shared equally by Crean and Worsley who had, after all, been through the same ordeal.

The story of the mystical fourth presence inevitably created some controversy, with some suggesting that it was no more than a publicity stunt and even modern writers dismissing it as a hoax. Some saw it as reminiscent of the ‘Angel of Mons’, a mythical angel riding a white horse wielding a flaming sword who is said to have appeared to British troops on the battlefields of the First World War.

Myth or not, the battle-weary soldiers at Mons shared several important things with Crean, Worsley and Shackleton – they were exhausted and under great stress. Contemporary reports of the dreadful Mons retreat speak of troops hallucinating with fatigue and that ‘very nearly everyone was seeing things …’

Whether the story of the fourth person was fact or fiction, it helped inspire the poet, T.S. Eliot to write
The Waste Land
in which he also told of another presence. With the knowledge of their ordeal in mind, Eliot’s words are strongly evocative of the epic journey undertaken by Shackleton, Worsley and Crean. The relevant passage of the poem reads:

We shall, of course, never explain the ‘fourth person’. It may have been a simple case of wishful thinking on the part of three exhausted men nearing the end of their tether who in their darkest hour were involuntarily seeking some comfort from their God. At the depths of their plight, they would have called on any source for the last dregs of strength to carry them through their extraordinary journey. The instincts of survival have no bounds.

However, it is known that exhaustion, hunger, thirst and inadequate diet over a long period can contribute to hallucinations. It may well be that the debilitated, underfed, parched and slightly disorientated men were simply hallucinating.

Perhaps there is no adequate explanation.

T
here was a quaint Englishness about the greeting for the two Irishmen and the New Zealander as they were taken to comfortable quarters by the Norwegian station manager. Tea was served.

Shackleton, somehow, had the presence of mind to ask Sorlle to take a photograph of the three men. Unfortunately no one had any film, so the world was robbed of an opportunity to record the historic moment that Shackleton, Worsley and Crean stepped back from the dead. Or, as Worsley put it, the world lost a picture of ‘its three dirtiest men’.

Their first concern was the war. Shackleton wanted to know when it had finished and Sorlle shocked them by reporting that millions were still being killed in the slaughter. It astounded the men and also underlined the fact the explorers had been out of contact with the rest of the world since December 1914. There were few people from the civilised world so out of touch with the momentous events elsewhere.

The men also picked up the first hints that their sister ship, the
Aurora
, had run into trouble on the other side of Antarctica. According to the whalers, the
Aurora
had broken clear of her mooring at McMurdo Sound and drifted north, eventually reaching New Zealand. Ominously, there was no news of the landing party, scheduled to winter at Scott’s old
quarters at Cape Evans before depoting supplies on the Barrier for the scheduled Trans-Antarctic Crossing.

The next act of kindness from the Norwegians was to offer the three men a welcome and sorely needed bath. Shackleton had warned their hosts that, after months without changing clothes or a wash, the men smelt badly. It was then, as they peeled off their worn and tattered garments and looked into the mirror, that the realisation of their appalling state began to dawn on the trio. The men were filthy, their hair matted and their scraggy beards had grown uncontrollably. The dirt and grime helped obscure another side of their ordeal.

Beneath the layers of dirt, the three men were gaunt and hollow. They had the look of men who had come face to face with death.

After their hot bath, they ate a hearty meal and prepared to spend their first night between clean sheets for close on two years. Shackleton shared a room with Crean in Sorlle’s house and he recalled that the pair were so comfortable and unaccustomed to luxury they could hardly sleep.

While Crean and Shackleton prepared to wallow in the comfort of a well-made bed, Worsley elected to fetch McCarthy, McNeish and Vincent who were still under the
Caird
at King Haakon Bay on the other side of the island. Worsley climbed aboard the steam-driven whaler,
Samson
, for the eleven-hour trip around South Georgia to Peggoty Camp, where McCarthy, McNeish and Vincent were waiting patiently.

The exhausted Worsley slept through a raging gale on the stormy trip and landed on the beach to a surprising welcome. The three castaways, who had spent almost two years living close alongside Worsley, failed to recognise the well-dressed, clean-shaven man who stood before them. At first they thought it was a stranger and indignantly demanded to know why Shackleton, Crean or Worsley had not bothered to come to pick them up!

Worsley also recovered the
James Caird
from the beach and took it back to Stromness Bay with the three men, where they
were greeted with a touching little ceremony from the sailors. The whalers – hardened, experienced Norwegian seamen – were almost overwhelmed in their admiration for the three men. Their journey, especially the crossing of the Southern Ocean, had astonished these highly proficient seafarers and the Norwegians insisted on bringing the
James Caird
ashore themselves as a symbol of their deep respect. Every man at the whaling station wanted to share in the honour of touching the boat and personally hauling it up the shore.

They refused to allow any of the
Endurance
party to touch the little vessel. It was a spontaneous gesture which, Worsley admitted, was ‘quite affecting’.

In the evening the dingy smoke-filled local club room was packed with well-wishers who simply wanted to pay tribute to the remarkable men who had sailed the Southern Ocean in an open boat and made the first crossing of South Georgia. Worsley said the reception was ‘full of captains and mates and sailors and hazy with tobacco smoke’.

One of the veteran whalers stepped forward from the crowd, saying that he had spent 40 years in the stormy Southern Ocean and had never heard of such a wonderful feat. According to Worsley, he said it was an honour to meet Shackleton and his comrades and finished with a dramatic gesture by declaring:

One by one the seamen stepped forward and shook hands with Shackleton, Worsley and Crean. It was a simple, informal gesture without the added ritual of the medals and fanfares which characterised the later, more formal celebrations of their achievements. But for the three men, it probably ranked higher than any other acclaim they would receive. Worsley spoke for all three when he wrote:

But there was no time to dwell on events while their comrades remained in captivity 800 miles (1,300 km) away. While Worsley had been away, Shackleton had arranged for the British-owned whaler,
Southern Sky
, crewed by eager volunteer Norwegian sailors, to sail down to Elephant Island to pick up the 22 stranded men. On board would be their rescuers, Crean, Worsley and Shackleton himself. At the same time, McCarthy, McNeish and Vincent were placed aboard another vessel heading back to England.

Because there was no telegraph on South Georgia in 1916, Shackleton had not been able to inform anyone at home about the fate of the
Endurance
. Or cable the owners and ask for permission to take the
Southern Sky
on the risky trip down to Elephant Island in the depth of the winter. But there was no time for courtesies and Shackleton assumed personal responsibility for the ship as the rescuers set off from Husvik.

The
Southern Sky
, heavily laden with coal for the 1,600-mile (2,600-km) round trip, set off to cross the Southern Ocean on 23 May 1916, to the noise of factory whistles from the whaling station and rousing cheers from the seamen on the quay. It was almost a month since they had sailed from Elephant Island carrying the hopes of their comrades.

After a largely uneventful passage across the Southern Ocean, the vessel ran into heavy, impassable pack ice about 60 miles from Elephant Island. Attempts were made to force the ship through the ice, but the
Southern Sky
was not built with a steel reinforced bow and it was useless to persevere. Mile after
mile the ship sailed up and down the ice looking for a way through, using up precious supplies of coal in a fruitless search for a safe channel. Even if they had managed to find a navigable lead, there was no guarantee that the ice would reopen to allow them safe retreat away from the island. Reluctantly, the ship turned and went back to the north.

Shackleton headed for the Falkland Islands, which are a little closer than South Georgia and had the added benefit of cable facilities. It would enable the
Endurance
party to reestablish contact with the outside world.

It was 31 May when Shackleton, Worsley and Crean entered Port Stanley in the Falklands. A cable was despatched to London announcing their return from the South and the loss of the
Endurance
. In London the news was a welcome diversion from the misery of the war. One missive was sent to the King, who took time off from the worsening conflict to respond:

Shackleton also wrote to his wife, Emily, with a brief outline of their ‘year and a half of hell’ and the inestimable support of close colleagues. He added:

At Port Stanley, the Governor Douglas Young invited the three men to stay with him while they searched for a new ship to go south to Elephant Island as quickly as possible. But Falkland Islanders, in general, were indifferent to the remarkable story of the
Endurance
party. The local newspaper,
John Bull
, reported:

One Falkland Islander, quoted in the same publication, said the men should have been at war long ago ‘… instead of messing about on icebergs’.
⁷

A little closer to the icebergs, the 22 men under Frank Wild were still stranded on the bleak rocky beach, eking out a life in the depths of the Antarctic winter.

Cables were sent to Britain and surrounding South American countries pleading for a suitable vessel to rescue the men, although the Admiralty was among the first to throw a wet blanket on their hopes. No suitable vessel was available because of the war and the first relief from Britain could not be expected until October. It would mean at least another five months, possibly more, before rescuing the men on Elephant Island.

Finally, the Uruguayan Government generously lent a steam trawler called
Instituto de Pesca No 1
which duly reached Port Stanley on 10 June. The ship sailed on 16 June with Shackleton, Worsley and Crean on board, increasingly anxious about the welfare of their comrades. But their hopes were soon dashed.

It was now approaching midwinter in the Southern Ocean and the weather was foul. Dawn broke on the third day with the sight of Elephant Island rising above the horizon far away in the distance. A little later the ship came to within 20 miles of shore but the pack was impenetrable and after another search for an opening, which consumed vital supplies of coal, they had to turn back. The disappointment was acute.

After arriving back at Port Stanley on 25 June, the three men took a steamer to Punta Arenas, on the western side of the Straits of Magellan in Patagonia, Chile. Punta Arenas was still a major gateway for the constant stream of ships rounding Cape Horn, although the opening of the Panama Canal two
years earlier in 1914 would eventually mark its rapid decline. The bustling little port on the Pacific flank of the South American continent flourished from the thriving wool and fishing industries and Shackleton knew it was the type of place where he might find a suitable vessel for the trip to Elephant Island.

The three men were greeted like celebrities. They were heroes, particularly in the eyes of the sizeable local British colony and found themselves invited to an endless stream of parties and receptions and making frequent appearances in the local newspapers. But they were also greeted with great warmth and admiration by the Chileans. Over the years, Britain and Chile had developed fairly close links, partly because of trade and partly because they seemed like-minded people. Indeed, the Chileans have been described as the ‘English of South America’.