An Unsung Hero: Tom Crean - Antarctic Survivor (43 page)

The lack of schooling would have been glaringly apparent in the South, where Crean had to spend months in close confinement with officers, scientists, doctors and many others who had the benefit of university or some other private education. It may be that the hypersensitivity which Shackleton mentions in his letter to Perris reflects Crean’s sense of inadequacy in the company of well-educated men.

Unsure of himself, Crean contacted Shackleton, seeking guidance and reassurance. Shackleton, though busy in the post-
Endurance
days, took time to encourage and console his old colleague. In one letter, written in June 1917, Shackleton emphasised that it was ‘absolutely necessary’ to pass the ‘easy examination’ before being considered for the commission. But Shackleton realised that Crean’s confidence needed a boost and explained:

Crean was also given valuable morale support by Emily Shackleton, who had seen his letters to her husband while Shackleton was away from home. She, too, recognised that Crean needed reassurance and responded by writing:

In the event, Crean passed the examination and on 11 August 1917, less than a month after his fortieth birthday, he was promoted to the rank of Acting Boatswain.
⁹

Meantime, Shackleton had found some money to reward Crean. The Irishman had initially signed up for
Endurance
at a salary of £166 a year and during their many months together on the ice, Shackleton had privately agreed to raise this substantially to £260 (today: £13,000). In June he sent Crean £100 (today: £5,000) and promised to cable a further £100.
¹⁰

Crean was also surprised to discover that his old
Terra Nova
comrade, Apsley Cherry-Garrard, had tracked him down and sent a small sum of money. Like Evans, perhaps Cherry-Garrard had special call to remember Crean’s powerful presence on Scott’s last expedition, in particular, the raw courage he displayed in 1911 to alert Scott to the plight of Cherry and Bowers who were cast adrift with the ponies on an ice floe. Crean was touched by Cherry’s gift and promised to ‘buy something’ with the present.

The money from Shackleton and Cherry-Garrard had
arrived at a particularly opportune moment for Crean, who was now getting married.

Crean’s early career in the navy and his long years exploring in the frozen wilderness of Antarctica had clearly made it difficult for the Irishman to establish long-term relationships. He had been away from home for 24 years since running away as a youngster to enlist and the only permanent feature in his life during this time was the occasional period of leave back home at Anascaul. It was no surprise therefore that he would marry a local woman.

His bride was Eileen Herlihy, the 36-year-old daughter of a local publican in Anascaul, who had known Crean since childhood. They had one other important thing in common. Eileen, who was invariably called Nell, had been born and raised in a pub in the centre of Anascaul and Tom Crean had already signalled his intentions of entering the licensed trade after leaving the navy. The liquor licence he had bought in 1913 with the old run-down bar in the village now assumed even greater importance.

Tom and Nell were married at Anascaul on 5 September 1917. It was a notable event in the village and Shackleton showed his affection for his old comrade by giving the newly-wedded couple a delightful silver tea service engraved from himself and Emily. Crean’s naval colleagues in the chief Petty Officers’ mess at Chatham presented him with a ceremonial sword.

Marriage was a temporary reprieve from the war, which in the autumn of 1917 was still locked in deadly stalemate on the European mainland. But Crean was luckier than many during the war. He escaped the horrors of the Western Front and remained in the relatively quiet backwaters of the navy for the final two years of the conflict. According to military records, Crean probably never saw any major hostile action in the two years which followed his return from the South.

He remained at Chatham Barracks from November 1916, until 2 March 1917, where he was engaged in routine,
mundane tasks on the fringe of the war, such as helping to take a dredger,
St Giles
, from Immingham on England’s east coast, to Rosyth, Scotland, in early February. It was a long way from the rigours of
Endurance
or the
James Caird
but after two years’ living life on the edge, Crean probably welcomed the comparative serenity.

In March, 1917, he was transferred to the auxiliary patrol ship, HMS
Colleen
at Queenstown, Cork, in his home country of Ireland for another relatively quiet time. His duties took him to the Bere Haven patrol base in Bantry Bay on Ireland’s southwest coast and, once again, his task was far from arduous.

While posted in Ireland, Crean was also awarded a further decoration. In February 1918, he was given a clasp to his Polar Medal. His next appointment, to the battle cruiser HMS
Inflexible
, took effect on 14 November 1918 – three days after the war ended. Crean’s war was a quiet one.

Not so lucky were some of his comrades from the
Endurance
expedition. Tim McCarthy, the popular fellow-Irishman who had helped sail the
James Caird
across the Southern Ocean, was killed at his gun in the Channel and Frank Wild’s brother Ernest, who had served so nobly in the Ross Sea Party, died from typhoid while on active duty in the Mediterranean. Alf Cheetham, a veteran of four Antarctic voyages and months under the boats on Elephant Island, was drowned when his minesweeper was torpedoed only a few weeks before the Armistice in 1918. Another five members of the expedition were wounded, some severely.

A month after the end of the war, in December 1918, Nell gave birth to their first child. They named her Mary. Soon after, on 14 March 1919, Crean was transferred to the 4,300-ton light cruiser,
Fox
.
¹¹
It would be his last meaningful naval appointment.

In April 1919, Crean was Boatswain on board
Fox
for a routine trip from Chatham to the strategic ports of Murmansk and Archangel in northern Russia where Britain and other Allies were still attempting to stop the advancing Bolsheviks.
By coincidence Shackleton had been there a few months earlier on a British mission to prevent the Germans seizing control of Murmansk, which is highly valuable as the only port in Arctic Russia which remains ice-free throughout the year.

Fox
left Chatham on 27 April and, after an uneventful short journey up England’s east coast, arrived at Rosyth late on 29 April.
¹²
What happened next is not clear and important parts of
Fox
’s records have since been lost. But while
Fox
was berthed at Rosyth on 29 April 1919, the long and distinguished naval career of Tom Crean effectively came to an end.

While the ship was being anchored at Rosyth, Crean mysteriously suffered a bad fall and was severely injured. According to medical records, he tumbled down the cable hatch and struck his head above the left temple, opening a one and a half inch wound which needed three stitches. He also suffered heavy bruising to his legs, left arm and side. The fall was so severe that for a time he lost the movement of his left arm. The medical certificate does not divulge any further details of the injuries, but dryly records that Crean was ‘sober at the time’.
¹³

The
Fox
continued her journey into Arctic waters, but Crean was never the same again. The wound to the head had damaged his vision, though the precise details of the injuries have been lost. Despite the impediment, he continued to serve with distinction and his conduct earned full praise from the wardroom. Crean left
Fox
on 31 October 1919, and his Captain said he was:

By the end of the year he had joined the 5,600-ton special torpedo depot ship, HMS
Hecla
, in the Nore Reserve. It was to be his last naval appointment.

The fall at Rosyth proved to have a more lasting effect than anyone could have anticipated, particularly for a toughened character like Crean who had suffered countless falls in the hostile terrain of Antarctica and had always come
up smiling. A few months later Crean retired from the Royal Navy, declared medically unfit with ‘defective vision’.
¹⁵
It was 24 March 1920, or less than four months short of completing 27 years’ service.

In the official record, his commanding officer on
Hecla
said Crean had conducted himself ‘to my entire satisfaction’. But, perhaps aware that he was writing for posterity, the officer added the fitting testimonial for a famous son of the sea:

T
om Crean quickly put his naval career behind him and embarked on a new course of building a home and a family. Although this was unfamiliar territory to a man who had spent almost three decades roaming away from his homeland, he was reasonably well equipped for the new life.

Crean had left the navy with two pensions – a statutory retirement pension and a special disability pension resulting from his injury at Rosyth. In 1922, the disability pension alone had been increased to £72 a year, which today is worth the equivalent of £2,300.
¹
This would supplement any income he might generate from his proposed life in the pub trade.

Nor had he forgotten the £100 gift from the
Terra Nova
expedition for saving Evans’ life on the Barrier in 1912. It was a useful injection of money as he contemplated building a new life and in August 1920, just five months after retiring from the Royal Navy, he wrote to Scott’s widow, Kathleen, to thank her for the donation. He said:

At around the same time, Crean took the crucial decision to retire from his life of exploration and adventure. While some explorers found it difficult to adapt to the routine of a quiet
domestic life after returning from their travels, Crean was happy to hang up his snow boots. His roving days were over. Even the personal appeals of Shackleton, a character he respected more than anyone else, could not persuade him to go South again.

All the evidence suggests that his love for Nell and the attractions of a family and a more settled life in Anascaul outweighed even his passion for the South, once regarded as his adopted home. Crean was approaching his forty-third birthday when he left the navy. He was only three years younger than Shackleton, a restless soul who by now was planning another expedition. The legacy of Crean’s eye injury undoubtedly played a part in his decision, although it did not have a lasting effect on his life. Shortly after retirement, he told Kathleen Scott that his eyes were ‘going on all right’.
³

More likely is that Nell, a strong-minded and determined character, was the major influence on his career change and the arrival of their three children added fresh responsibility. Mary, born in December 1918, was followed in 1920 by Katherine and Eileen in 1922.

Nonetheless the decision to retire from polar exploration was something of an about-turn for Crean. He had earlier set his heart on undertaking another journey, despite the rigours of many years with Scott and Shackleton. Even after the escapades on
Endurance
, Crean had not lost his appetite for adventure.

Soon after returning from the
Endurance
, Crean had given his friend, Captain Dodds at Bere Haven, the clearest possible indication that he was once again fully prepared to set sail for the South. In a letter to Dodds, probably written around 1918, he wrote:

But by 1920 he had changed his mind, despite a personal approach from Shackleton who was putting together a new polar expedition.

At around the time Crean was leaving the Royal Navy in March 1920, Shackleton was completing a dreary series of twice-daily lectures on the
Endurance
expedition to audiences at London’s Philharmonic Hall. A month earlier, in February 1920, Crean had attended the 100th performance and was doubtless briefed about Shackleton’s new ambitions.

Crean joined several other former
Endurance
hands – Wild, Worsley, James, Wordie, Hussey, and Orde-Lees – to relive the experience with Shackelton. Hussey played his banjo and newspapers reported that the men received ‘a very special reception’ from the audience.