SAILING THE SEVEN SEAS 



647 



The poor visibility in the neighborhood 

 of these icebergs may explain the nu- 

 merous reports of islands discovered in 

 the early days which have never been 

 seen by later navigators. Dougherty 

 Island seems to be one of these lost islands 

 of the Pacific. We sailed over its re- 

 ported position on December 25, and noth- 

 ing was visible for more than 40 miles 

 in any direction. Our own position was 

 well determined, and the visibility that 

 morning was good. 



We sailed on a zigzag course to the 

 eastward on the assumed latitude of 

 Dougherty Island for over 200 miles. 

 During a part of this trip we were fol- 

 lowing or intersecting the historic route 

 taken by Sir James Ross, over 70 years 

 ago, in the ships Erebus and Terror, in 

 order to determine the changes which 

 have taken place in the Earth's magnetism 

 since his magnetic observations were made. 



SOUTH GEORGIA, SIR ERNEST SHACKLE- 

 ton's LAST resting PLACE* 



Off Cape Horn we had the finest 

 weather of the entire trip. Being well 

 south of the Horn, near 60 degrees south 

 latitude, we had clearing skies and light 

 northerly winds. A few days later, in 

 the fog of the early morning, we found 

 ourselves in the midst of 20 large ice- 

 bergs, which seemed to have met as an 

 outpost off the northwest point of the 

 island of South Georgia. 



In the poor visibility, ice islands and 

 land islands were almost indistinguish- 

 able, as we could see less than a quarter 

 of a mile in the fog, and we were to lee- 

 ward of the northwest point of South 

 Georgia before we were aware of it. It 

 was necessary to call on the engine to 

 extricate the vessel from her embarrass- 

 ing nearness to these huge masses of ice 

 and to beat to windward in order to 

 weather the point. 



As we sailed along the north coast of 

 South Georgia, about which so little is 

 heard, enveloped as it -is in the cold mists 

 and mystery of the little-known Southern 

 Ocean, the weather cleared and we had a 

 magnificent view of snow peaks, rugged, 

 cold, hard mountains, with immense 



* See "South Georgia, an Outpost of the Ant- 

 arctic," by Robert Cushman Murphy, in Th£ 

 Geographic for April, 1922. 



glaciers flowing between and the valleys 

 partly filled with fog banks. 



We remained in King Edward Cove 

 only two days, taking on fresh water and 

 some fresh provisions, including potatoes, 

 pork, and mutton. Sir Ernest Shackleton 

 had stopped here a few months previous, 

 before plunging into the darkness and 

 silence of the Antarctic on his ill-fated 

 vessel, the Endurance ; and he now has 

 found a last resting place on the rugged 

 hillside overlooking this snug little harbor, 

 where seasons may come and go and 

 where hurricanes and blizzards* may blow 

 at will. 



The six whaling stations on the island 

 employ more than 1,000 men and produce 

 about 240,000 barrels of whale oil annu- 

 ally. A monthly steamer to Buenos 

 Aires connects them with the outside 

 world. The Argentine Government main- 

 tains a meteorological station at King 

 Edward Cove, and the wife of the ob- 

 server in charge was the only woman at 

 this station. There were only two women 

 on the entire island. 



The shore whaling station flenses the 

 blubber from the whale, and then the re- 

 mainder is sold to the floating factory, 

 located on a large sailing vessel anchored 

 in the harbor. Frequently whale carcasses 

 drift about the harbor and strand upon 

 the beach, some just under the window of 

 the meteorological observer's home, re- 

 maining there until absorbed by the all- 

 suffering air. 



No poetic phrases can describe the odor 

 which is the hourly portion of those who 

 dwell on the shores of this beautiful har- 

 bor. The beach is several inches deep 

 with grease and whale refuse, affording 

 rich pasturage for the several hogs kept 

 at the station to vary the whale meat food 

 supply. 



Some of the members of our party re- 

 fused to eat the nice, fresh pork because 

 the pigs had not lived in green meadows 

 during their lifetime. The whale steak, 

 after being spiced and soaked for two 

 days, was quite palatable, and the smoked 

 whale meat differed very little from 

 smoked beef. 



The people were extremely hospitable 



and loaded us with gifts of penguin eggs, 



whale ear bones, and sea elephant tusks. 



The penguins, funny little creatures, 



