Play@YSDC

Chapter Five - Onto The Ice

SS Gabrielle - Port Melbourne, Victoria, Australia
9:30am - Wednesday 18th October, 1933

Finally on the morning of Wednesday 18th October, all of the repairs have been completed, all the new cargo and supplies loaded, and all statements given to the Melbourne police.

The last of the new equipment to arrive, the replacement oxygen tanks, arrive at 8:30am on the back of a flatbed truck and are quickly hauled aboard by the Gabrielle's cranes.

Nobody has seen either Kitt or Richard Greene since they left John's impromptu party, but they both arrive at the docks by taxi at 9:00am, and dash up the Gabrielle's gangplank.

At 9:20am a local pilot comes aboard and the gangplanks are raised, ten minutes later the ship's horn sounds twice, and the SS Gabrielle slips smoothly out of her berth, and sails slowly out in Port Victoria Bay once more.

A small crowd has gathered again to watch the expedition leave, and a flotilla of small boats and yachts surround the Gabrielle as she sails south towards the Rip. Starkweather and Moore stand proudly on the Gabrielle's boat deck and a air of excitement and anticipation is everywhere amongst both the crew and the expedition team.

There is a sense that finally sabotage and intrigue can be put behind, left in Melbourne with the culprit Scott. Now the obstacles in the expedition's path are not those made by man, but are deadly none-the-less, beyond the Rip lie the storms of the mighty Southern Ocean, and the inhospitable freezing wasteland that is Antarctica.

<<I'll post a little more tonight, but I'll stop here to give one or two of you a chance to post>>

Jack notes the two lovebirds, kicks something that apparently only he can see, and makes his way back to his quarters. It'd been a time of semi-seculsion for the reporter. He'd figured he'd better get all the rest he could now before the expedition moved out onto the ice and he would be on call continually.

As Callum leans on the rail, at the bow of the Gabrielle, waving at the small boats full of well wishers, an image of Purple Heather covered hillsides forms in his mind. Suddenly overcome by an acute feeling of homesickness, he heads for his cabin, opens a whisky bottle and drinks a toast to a 'Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim'rous beastie' and to the health, and success, of the Starkweather Moore Antarctic Expedition.

Olof has noticed that Jack is a bit disturbed by the sight of Dr. Greene and the lovely Kitt but does not say anything to the reporter about it. Having lived close to both men during the voyage complicates matters a bit and since he likes them both, he really does not want to poke his nose into the business. Olof doubts that this love triangle will be a problem when they arrive on the ice, but what if it will be? The engineer shruggs off his morbid thoughts and tries to enjoy the view of Melbourne instead. He waves to the cheering people in the boats beside them and smiles towards them leaving any troubled thoughts behind him for the moment.

James has enjoyed the brief visit to Australia and hopes he can spend some more time, at some point in the future, exploring more of the new world. James is in a boisteroius mood when the ship sets sail and waves to the small crowd before heading back to his cabin to ensure everything is in order before seeing if the class schedule from the earlier part of the voyage is going to be reinstated on this leg.

The Officers' Mess - SS Gabrielle
Wednesday 18th October, 1933

By midday the SS Gabrielle has cleared the treacherous waters of the Rip, and is pushing south into the open ocean, having bid goodbye to the local pilot who returns to the Queenscliff station aboard a small launch. With a blast of her horn the Gabrielle sets a course away from Australia.

Her course will take her southeast around the curve of Tasmania and then south into the storm-swept reaches of the Southern Ocean. The sky is clear, the sea is calm. Everything is perfect for the journey south.

Acacia Lexington's SS Tallahassee left Hobart, Tasmania a few days ago, it seems unlikely now that the Gabrielle will overtake her.

Nonetheless the spirits of both the crew and the expedition are high, few other than Starkweather worried about 'the race' anyway.

Jack receives a wire from his editor informing him that the Graf Zeppelin has left Friedrichshafen in Germany today, and will reportedly arrive at the Barsmeier-Falken Expedition's outer base on Deception Island in around a week.

Both President von Hindenburg and Chancellor Hitler are at Friedrichshafen to watch the huge airship departing on it's historic mission.

Once it has rendezvoused with it's support ship at Deception Island the Graf Zeppelin is expected to ferry the German expedition from the island to establish a base camp in the Weddell Sea region, negating the need for an ice-breaker.

Late in the afternoon, Professor Moore holds a meeting for the whole expedition in the Gabrielle's officers’ lounge. A large map of South Polar waters hangs from the wall behind him.

"I have here the weather news," he says. "The reports are both good and bad, but they are in fact what we were hoping for."

"It says here that spring in the far south has been extremely stormy, and that it is likely to continue that way for the next few weeks. That means two things. We are likely to meet very bad weather soon, possibly a lot of it; but it also means that the polar pack ice will be pushed out early from the Ross Sea. This last is very important indeed, for once the pack has been pushed out, we can push our own way in."

"It may have occurred to some of you that we - all of us - are going south far earlier than is customary. That is true, and it is a gamble. It is, however, a gamble that the Miskatonic University Expedition also made, three years ago. What was successful for them will, I hope, succeed for us as well. By proceeding early in the teeth of the storm, so to speak, we gain valuable time in Antarctica. I hope to make good use of that time."

Moore points to the map as he indicates the route planned to Antarctica, "Our planned course has us entering the ice pack due north of Cape Adare, and proceeding southward through the Ross Sea to Ross Island, where we shall make landfall. Whether this is possible depends upon the ice, of course. We will enter the pack where it seems safest, and improvise from there."

"If all goes well, we shall be set up on the Antarctic continent less than a month from today. If luck is with us, it could be much sooner than that."

He goes on to add that, for the remainder of the voyage and for their time upon the ice, the expedition clocks will use 'Antipodal Time' - twelve hours ahead of Greenwich Mean - as the correct time upon the Ross Ice Shelf.

Raiko wrote:"What was successful for them will, I hope, succeed for us as well. By proceeding early in the teeth of the storm, so to speak, we gain valuable time in Antarctica. I hope to make good use of that time."

I hope we don't push the analogy too far, Jack mutters to himself.

He fades out mentally for a while during Moore's talk. Things seemed to be going better, but his editor'd be a lot happier if they were winning the race, not losing it. Still, the news was generally good, and, with luck, the sabotage and the chaos were behind them. Of course, luck and Miskatonic expeditions didn't often seem to go together.

Olof listens with deep interest at Professor Moore's briefing. Finally he will come to see the fabled Antarctica and in less than a month's time.

SS Gabrielle - The Southern Ocean
12:00 Saturday 22nd October, 1933
Latitude: 53°21'S
Longitude: 157°15'E
Wind: Westerly 20-25mph

Over the next four days, the SS Gabrielle pushes southward nearly a thousand miles into the cold gray sea. Winds shift hourly, are bitterly cold and at times quite fierce. The ship pitches and rolls, thrumming in the heavy swells. Those who suffer from seasickness are miserable throughout this period - the relentless heaving of the deck makes life a quiet hell.

The classes begin again, although learning is made difficult by the continuous pitching and rolling of the ship.

Jack seems to handle the rolling and pitching all right. As he thinks about classes that he might take, he snorts at "ballroom dancing" (though he and Olof might make a cute couple), lingers over "boxing" (the thought of whacking Starkweather being awfully tempting), but ultimate decides on the "skis and boots" and "clothing and equipment," feeling that a concentrated effort in improving his admittedly almost nonexistent polar survival skills sounded prudent.

Seeing that the new list of classes has been put up, Callum wanders over for a look to see what's on offer. He isn't surprised to see he is now taking the Survival course. It's exactly what he expected and he's looking forward to the task. Now what is there that I can fit around my duties.......?

What the?

Paper Folding!?!?

Ballroom Dancing!?!?

Whatever next!

Callum opts to stick to Radio Operating and First Aid. As those will actually be useful on the ice...

A feverstricken John wakes up from the fever and realizes they have reached the ice...

OOC:   Somehow my notifications stoped to arrive at my mailbox. Will read up on the current events. A 'real' post will come tonight.

"Antarctic First Aid and Antarctic Weather," murmurs Kitt. She figures she might as well learn a bit about both when she'd very much prefer going out over the water in her plane. Her fingers damn near itch from desire to fly. It's been too long...

For any who's paid attention, Kitt behaves much as she has before and pays no particular attention to Greene than before.

Olof thinks this is an easy choice. He will continue teaching his class and sign up for the course about Antarctic clothing. Although the weather is rough, Olof has no trouble adjusting to the harsher weather conditions.

SS Gabrielle - The Southern Ocean
Sunday 23rd October, 1933

On the 23rd of October the barometer plummets in the early morning hours, as a fierce gale sweeps in from the west. By five o’clock the wind is blowing gusts of up to fifty miles per hour. Captain Vredenburg turns the ship to run with the storm, but for several hours the Gabrielle is at the mercy of wind and wave, tossed from peak to trough by the fury of the elements.

For all aboard, this is the wildest rollercoaster ride of their lives, but the experience is far from being enjoyable. More than half of the expedition find themselves helpless with nausea. Those few who remain find that they have difficulty even walking on deck, so fierce is the pitching motion of the ship. Small unsecured objects clatter and roll about the passengers’ cabins. Professor Moore is one of those few who avoid seasickness, he takes one look at the carnage in the mess and cabins area, and quickly rounds up those who are fit enough.

He directs all who are able to assist, with jobs securing any loose objects, he is particularly worried about the equipment in the expedition labs, "The cargo in the holds should all be lashed down securely, but we cannot afford to have the scientific equipment damaged by this weather."

As Jack heads upstairs he is pleased to see that both Captain Starkweather and Richard Greene appear to be suffering very badly from seasickness.

[OOC: Before posting replies about your character's experiences, please check the results of the seasickness rolls in the OOC thread]

Dr. Greene looks a little ... green, Jack thinks with some slight amusement that he tamps down. His sense of pleasure at seeing the great Starkweather brought low, albeit momentarily, is something of an unabashed pleasure, however.

Jack scampers around with the other able bodies as they secure, or attempt to secure, the small and loose items. Even though Jack seems to handle the motion all right, he's none too anxious to repeat such an experience.

As a fan of sailing, and having done numerous transatlantic crossings before, James is very surprised to be suddenly violently hit with a bout of sea sickness. He knows he has to just sit this out until he can stop his stomach from clenching everytime the waves roll.

Leaping up from his bunk, Callum dives for his sick bucket. But too slow. He moans as the contents of his mostly empty stomach hit the floor..... again.

'God dammit! When will this stop!' he shouts at the storm.

When the latest spasms stop, he cleans himself up and makes his way to the galley. I need something to occupy myself and take my mind off things. I'll go help the crew for a while...

John secures the medical equipment in the mess hall and feels his head echoe of last night´s shouting and drinking. He helps himself to a hefty glass of water before he finishes the safety procedures of securing all delicate materiell. Being sure all parts containing glass are safely imbedded with linen and tissues. Loose objects he puts in a couple of sacks and ties to a beam by one of the port holes. Loose objects could do alot of damage when flying around in a cabin...
"Not so many happy faces today, eh? Not just me an´Callum got ourselves slammered las´night, yes?" Seeing Callum arrive bleak faced, John proffers a mug of water to the downed man. "Sorry, mate - it´s only water..." Rhyes takes a round trip raound the ship´s walkways to observe the waves head on. With a steady grip to the railings and struts he makes his way the full circle, arriving back at the galley. He seats himself in front of the huge map of the white continent left up from one of the seminars. (John didn´t attend any of the classes as he had needed to maintain the shotgun and his climbing gear. Don´t want a mishap on the ice.)

It had come on him all of a sudden. The blinding headache, sick to the stomach and feeling dizzy. It was like his first days at basic training for flying, it left you feeling terrible and if you didn't get help quick, you were going to have a rotten time of it.

McRaven knew it wasn't going to help him staying in the cabin. He recalled a piece of advice an old sailor had given him, when he shipped with his squadron to France.
"If you feel seasick, the you should stay low and to the stern of the boat, the ride is much smoother at the stern."

That was were you encountered the least motion, or so the sailor had explained to the young pilot. The bow of the vessel pounds through the waves, up and down; the stern drags through the water. So lurching out of his bunk, he begins to make his make down deeper in the ship and towards the stern. He keeps to the corridors, and runs through flight checks in his head to keep his mind off his churning guts.

Kitt dances about the decks while the others heave their lunches or tie things down. She clutches her overly large hat to her head, giggles and calls out encouragement to the various men, all the while trying to hold her dress down with her free hand. If it could be possible, she seems so much happier and healthier now than she has at any point before in the trip. She finds the storm absolutely refreshing!

Olof feels very sorry for those that are struck by sea sickness. He is a bit surprised that he has not been stricken, but he welcomes the change, he has been sea sick before on this trip and he did not enjoy it at all. Perhaps there will be a change in weather soon.

Sean collects his thoughts and walks along the deck. The sight of hi fellow crew members emptying their stomachs is however very unsettling. He realizes how close they are coming and a sudden wave of uncertainty hits him. He will arrive on one of the polar lands of the word in the not too distant future.

With the apprehension of Scott he feels better, but with yet another newcomer he keeps a watchful eye on John. With all thats happened, you can't be too trusting of the strangers.

He stands and watches the ocean for a moment, observes the sky and decides that being outside is far too depressing right now. Perhaps one of the activities will keep him busy. He invests his time in First Aid.

Callum sips, tentatively, at the water offered by John. "Thank you very much mate." He attempts a smile, but it's definately more of a grimace. I've heard that if you can keep your eye on the horizon, the sea sickness isn't as bad, he thinks. Callum wraps himself in his sowester and walks out onto the deck for a breath of fresh air, and to watch the horizon.

At first Graves stoically tries to assist in the securing of the scientific equipment but it soon becomes clear that he is just too ill to be of any help.

He climbs to the deck to fill his lungs with fresh air.

He clings to a hand rail at the top of the stairs leading onto the deck feeling cold, wet and miserable. Feeling the bracing wind in his face does however reduce his nausea.

Kitt sidles up to Graves, still clutching at hat and dress. "Lovely day we're having, hey?" she asks, blithely unaware of Graves condition.

[OOC: I cut & pasted the end of my last post to the beginning of this one, as it makes more sense here, after all of your storm related posts]

The SS Gabrielle is battered by the terrible weather all day long, but suddenly shortly before 7pm that evening the fierce winds die down, and the black wall of clouds to the west dissolves suddenly.

Everyone on board is treated to a magnificent sunset, banners of orange and green and gold fusing and chasing one another across the lowering sky. It is a wonderful surprise ending to a memorable day. Gabrielle turns south once more.

SS Gabrielle - The Southern Ocean
12:00 - Monday 24th October, 1933

SS Gabrielle Noon Position:
Latitude: S57°47'
Longitude: E163°57'
Wind: SW20-25kts
Last 24 hours: 246miles

Dawn on Monday the 24th breaks clear and cold, with a bitter wind sweeping in from the south-west carrying the chill of the polar ice. Ice-rime quickly builds up on the ship's lines and railings. Any who venture onto deck need to wrap up against the cold wind.

Compared to the previous day's rough ride, the sea today seems almost as smooth as glass. The Gabrielle make excellent progress through the smoother seas.

Knowing that yesterday's storm will certainly not be the last, or the worst, Captain Vredenburg orders his crew to rig the ship for bad weather. Heavy lines are rigged fore and aft along the deck, to be used as handholds and guides when needed. All remaining loose equipment is safely stowed and secured.

Starkweather and Moore walk the decks proudly, Starkweather making light of yesterday's nausea, and back in high spirits.

( OOC - Failed to notice i was actually seasick >_< )

Sean rolls over in his bed to realize the rough seas have gone...atleast for now.

"Good, maybe I can shake this and finally get used to this blasted movement..."

He sighs and lays back down just staring up from his bed.

SS Gabrielle - The Southern Ocean
Tuesday 25th October, 1933

SS Gabrielle Noon Position:
Latitude: S60°17'
Longitude: E165°4'
Wind: S <10kts
Last 24 hours: 188 miles

Daybreak on October the twenty-fifth brings with it a weird shadowy world. The ship pushes forward at reduced speed through thick freezing fog. Rime thickens on all exposed surfaces, frost points grow across ports and windows, and the deck becomes slick and dangerous. The captain reduces speed once, then a second time, as visibility drops and the sea calms.

The first iceberg is sighted at 2:40 p.m. - a huge old glacial table at least 40 yards across, weathered and crumbling, its sides undercut in a hundred caves from the working of wind and water. Other icebergs follow, looming up out of the thick freezing mist like ghosts. As sunset approaches the Gabrielle has passed close by a dozen of them, each trailed by its little flock of chips and shards. One of the floes is a deep greenish black, riding barely above the water, but almost half again long as the ship.

As the sun sets the ships barometer begins drop again and the crew fears that another storm is imminent. Captain Vredenburg immediately turns the ship, heading east. He is unwilling to risk pushing into deeper the field of icebergs at night in rough weather.

The atmosphere in the ship's messes is subdued, as the Gabrielle pushes slowly through the fog and both passengers and crew nervously await the threatened storm.

Richard Greene gets out his cards, and starts a game which both Sorenson brothers quickly join, he asks if anyone else wants to join in:

"It this is anything like the last storm, I'll be throwing my guts up soon. So I might as well enjoy myself first!"

Nils Sorenson grunts in agreement, he was also badly effected by the last bad weather.

Jack laughs politely and volunteers to sit in. Truth be told, he, too, was disturbed by the weather and by the presence of the bergs, which he'd of course anticipated but still not, somehow, prepared himself for. Even had the weather been fair, Jack would've begun to think that this all was a terrible idea.

"I'll second that" James say's sitting down to join in the game. Barely recovering from the massive bout of sea sickness he welcomes anything to take hs mind off the thought of further storms, although he hopes if and when they do occur the storms won't have such a significant impact on his stomach!

"I´ll see if I can get some coffee from the pantry." John says and heads off t get some warm berverage. "Save a seat for me too, guys. Last time I played was a..." The sentence trails off as he gets out of earshot. Momentarily John gets back with a steaming pot of black gold java, china clanking on the verge of shattering as he stumbles on the high step-in. "Oops, close one there!" He puts the china down and lets the pot rest on a coaster amid the cards. "So, what´s the game?" John looks at the players expectantly...

Kitt stands out on deck, fully rugged up, surveying the icebergs. Ever so often, she bothers various ship men for information on what they're doing and what's going on.

Olof who is seeing Kitt watch the icebergs walks to her and points out. "They're magnificient, aren't they. I've read that the major part of the isberg is hidden below the water line." Not knowing the term "ice berg" the engineer uses the word of his native language instead.

Pulling up a chair Sean sits with the men.

"Count me in, I'd rather not regret not using my free time as I did last time."

He looks around at the others seated.

"So what do you all think of the events passed? Think we're finally past all that rubbish and preparing to make history?"

"I think we're past all that now," replies Green as he deals the cards out.

"After all everything's been quiet since Callum and Isugtag caught Scott in the act. This fog's wierd though, spooky almost."

Jack seemed to remember having a role in the capture as well, but he let it pass. "I hope things have ended," he says, "but we really know so little about why the things that happened, happenend. I'd feel better with a proper motive. Scott told us some things, but nobody thinks he told us everything about why he did what he did, and we don't know who he was working for."

"How fascinating," says Kitt, meaning it. "Everything seems to exciting out here. I just can't wait to see the ice! And to fly! It's been so long since I've flown."

"It's certainly been an eventful start to the trip, can't say this was a boring voyage so far but I'm glad the fiend is off the ship now and we can look foirward to the next part" James looks at Dr Greene "so what game are we playing here then"

"I've never had experienced flying, it should be interesting indeed." Olof hides the fact that even if he knows the physics behind flying, his a bit frightened by the prospect of flying himself!

SS Gabrielle - The Southern Ocean
Nighttime - Tuesday 25th October, 1933

The wind increases lifting the thick fog and the sea roughens, but the card game keeps everybody's spirits up and as midnight passes the barometer starts to slowly climb back up.

*********************************************

SS Gabrielle - The Southern Ocean
Wednesday October 26, 1933
SS Gabrielle Noon Position:
Latitude: S63°50'
Longitude: E167°44'
Wind: SSW 60+ kts
Last 24 hours: 212 miles

By morning on the 26th, the promised storm has not arrived, the Gabrielle turns southward once more, sailing through widely scattered ice floes. It begins to slow intermittently, the sky a dark grey and vision outside is sometimes hampered by flurries of heavy snow.

The Gabrielle steams south toward the ice pack. Shortly after noon the barometer plummets once again. Within an hour it has fallen lower than any of the scientists on-board have ever seen before. A solid wall of black clouds pours from the southwest with breathtaking speed, falling on the ship in a wave of howling wind and spray.

The vessel is caught in the grip of a terrible storm. The average wind-speed is well over sixty miles per hour with some gusts approaching one hundred miles per hour. The savage wind clutches at the booms and wires, hammers open doors, and threaten to tear away wood and canvas covers before they can be battened down. Immense waves rise high overhead, crashing down across the decks with hollow thundering booms.

The Gabrielle rings and shudders with every attack, heeling and plunging deep into the grey Antarctic waters. Men suffer and struggle in the engine room and on the bridge, trying desperately to bring her bow around before the ship is torn apart by the force of the storm. It is all but impossible to stand; walking without handholds is out of the question.

All around, the air is full of the screams and groans of the tortured ship as its metal plates are stressed in every possible direction at once. Above decks the rain sweeps in horizontally from the south, carrying with it hail and sleet that scours flesh and shatters glass. The crates lashed in the holds shift with every pitch and roll of the ship, the ropes and straps holding them in place strained to their utmost, their creaking adding to the cacophony above. The dogs, helpless in their cages aft, scream and howl in terrified confusion.

The storm does not cease. Hour after hour the ship wallows on. Again and again the bow disappears beneath the wall of waves. Time after time watery hammer-blows slam against the superstructure and cover the bridge windows in rime.

Belowdecks, expedition members huddle miserably in the lounges or in their cabins, clutching bowls and basins and moaning in distress. The ship’s kitchen is awash with water from pots swept off the stove, but the cook and his messboys struggle to prepare a hot meal.
Just after 6pm, a terrible tearing crash is hear from somewhere forward as the bow of the ship slams downward into a trough. The crash is repeated moments later, and then again a third time, as the Gabrielle heels and slews. It is obvious that some heavy piece of cargo has gotten loose and is slamming about in its hold.

Starkweather has fought off the seasickness this time, hearing the crashes from the holds he realises that swift action is needed, "Damn it! Something's loose in the hold!"

Looking around the mess he picks out the most able expedition members, there isn't a lot of choice as almost everyone is incapacitated by seasickness, even the dependable Sorenson brothers.

"James, Olof, Sean quickly get some flashlights!"

"Callum, Isugtag, Jack get some rope, it's suicide out there if we're not lashed together!"

A couple of members of the Gabrielle's crew also jump to assist.

Whatever it the crashing is, something must be done swiftly, or even greater damage could result.

Callum quickly leaps up and heads for the nearest storage cupboard. Picking up as many coils of rope as he can carry, he heads to where the others are waiting. "Which hold is the loose equipment in?" He secures the rope to the ships superstructure and double checks the knots. "I dont mind going first. I've had a lot of experience using ropes in bad weather."

John gets the extreme weather gear on and finds himself entangled in the ropes on way to the cargo holds. "Watch your steps boys!" he screams over the sound of blistering winds and salty waves that penetrates the shielding walls of the ship´s mess. "Are you ready to face this?"

Olof curses. He has never expected this kind of weather. They are truly helpless now left to the mercy of the weather gods, if such mercy can be had at all. The engineer tries to find a working flashlight dresses quickly in something that will protect him from the cold and water at least for a few minutes. Hopefully they will not spend so much time outside.

As adrenaline courses through him,Sean searches for a short time and finds the cold weather gear. He puts it on and looks for a flashlight. After assuring that it works he looks around for the others he is to accompany.

"May God help us..."

John adjusts the safety goggles and puts a gloved hand on the handle on the exit door hatch. "Sean, Poseidon might help us, God is sleeping out here..."
John winks at Sean.

Ghost_1971 wrote:"Which hold is the loose equipment in?"

Starkweather shakes his head, "There's no way to tell from here. We'll know when we get closer."

Ghost_1971 wrote:"I dont mind going first. I've had a lot of experience using ropes in bad weather."

"Excellent!" Starkweather looks at the men gathered around, "We'll move in two teams, you and John can lead the first, me and Isugtag will lead the second."

At that moment the ship rolls violently again, most of those gathering to check the holds stumble, but everybody catches themselves except for Isugtag who falls and catches his head on a table. Another resounding boom echoes from the forward holds.

Groaning the big Inuit rubs the side of his head, as Greene struggles to assist despite his sickness.

"Are you ok to continue?" asks Starkweather, "There's no time to waste!"

Once Isugtag's injury has been assessed the two parties rope themselves together. Callum, John, Olof and one Henning from the Gabrielle's crew are in the first team. Starkweather leads the rest in the second.

On Callum's signal John pulls open the hatch leading out to the deck, he strains against the violent winds that try to tear the door from his grasp, barely preventing it from slamming into the wall. Wind and water surge through the open doorway, pouring through into the interior. Grasping a flashlight in one hand, and Captain Vredenburg's guide-rope in the other Callum steps out onto the deck, waves crash over his head, and wind and snow assail him, but the Scotsman stands firm and begins to make his way forward followed closely by John, Olof and Henning.

As soon as Henning is through, Starkweather leads the second team out.

Outside it is as black as night. The air cuts like a knife in the party's throats and lungs, numbing any exposed skin; breath whips away in thin streams of mist, lost in the storm. Anyone without thick protective garments would have been soaked to the skin and freezing in moments.
There is no light except that from the torches. Flying ice and spray make the flashlight beams solid columns of white against the darkness; visibility is less than twenty feet. The decks are rimed with ice, slick and uncertain under foot, and freezing water washes knee-deep against the cargo hatches with every breaking wave. The sound is immense; the boom of waves and the constant shriek of wind are so loud that everyone must shout to be heard. It will be impossible to hear where the noise is coming from without opening the access hatches in turn.

As the waves crash in, and the snow comes in sideways, Callum pulls himself slowly along the guide rope. He's experienced weather like this before, but never where the floor was moving under him too.

All he can do is make he way to the first hatch, and pray that every one can get the job done safely....

"Gud fader som är i himmelen helgat varde ditt namn... Olof words the Lord's Prayer in his mind as learnt from his mother during his youth.

John strides boldly against the torrents of gusting wind, keeping good speed, even footfalls. However at the instant when Olof finishes the oddly pronounced Pater Noster in something that sounds like something out of Beowulf, John skids on a ice-patch, goes down on one knee... He regains his tracking and climbs up, heading for the cargo hold... If lady luck stands him by, he´ll be back in the mess hall after this excursion. Sadly she smiles at someone else at this moment...

As John opens his eyes he realizes that he hasn´t left the mess yet. The strain and tension takes it toll on his mind. Memories of winters past.. The ship had been the Cleopatra not this vessel! The prayer Olof voiced reminded John of a former colleague, Richard Harris, who mysteriously disappeared eight years ago... Harris, being a professor in lingustics had studied at a univursity in Gothenburg. John pinches himself and checks that the knots are properly tied. "Double check your ropes, lads, don´t want to get washed overboard, do we?"

Seeing the first team struggle James didn't know whether to feel pleased to be in the second team or wished he had been in the first team to get this over & done with. James knew this was going to be a tough jaunt to get this job done in a storm of this magnitude.

Hand over hand the little party pulls itself along the guide ropes to the hatches.

Callum's team make excellent progress, everybody stays on their feet all the way to the first hatch, which leads down to the number three tween-deck hold. The noise of the storm is so great that there is no way anyone out here could possibly hear what's happening down there, the only option is to open the hatches and check inside each hold in turn.

Callum and John begin to unseal the access hatch while Olof and Henning cling onto the guide rope. Ten yards behind them Starkweather and James lead the second team towards them.

Then disaster strikes, the Gabrielle rolls violently as it crashes into a huge wave, almost fifty feet high. Tonnes of water crash across the foredeck and everyone clings to the guide ropes for dear life, unable to see or hear anything but the sea, unable to even breath as the water floods over their heads.

Beside John, Olof is knocked off his feet by the force of the mighty wave, but manages to keep a firm grip on the guiderope.

Further back, in Starkweather's team, both James and Sean slip too, James keeps hold of the guide rope for a second, but Sean cannot and as the wave washes him forwards the sea both James and Cotter loose their precarious grips on the precious guide rope. Only the strength of Starkweather's fingers stand between his team and certain death.

For what seems like an eternity the mighty wave washes over the men, but eventually it passes, the Gabrielle still floats, her decks awash with water. The first team are ok, half drowned, but still clinging onto the rope.

Behind them Starkweather is still standing, James lies breathless on the deck, but beside him is the tattered end of the rope.

Sean and Cotter are gone...

John helps Olof up and shouts to Starkweather; "Get over here, we better hold together!"

Starkweather hauls James back to the relative safety of the guide-rope, both are stunned by the apparent loss of Sean of Cotter, but relieved to have survived themselves. The expedition leader looks desperately around the deck, searching for the other two. He shouts over the noise of the storm, "Can you see them James! I thought we were all goners for sure then!"

Starkweather just overhears the sound of John shouting above the noise of the wind and the waves, "Ok! We've lost two men! Can you see them!"

Meanwhile ahead of him, Callum manages to unfasten the access hatch to the number three hold. Taking a flashlight back from Olof he looks inside.

Everything appears secure down there, which is fortunate as the number three tween-deck hold contains most of the expedition's actual exploratory equipment, from base and trail radios to Nansen sleds. As Callum strains to hear anything above the dim of the storm, his head down through the hatch, the Gabrielle rolls again, less violently this time. The Scotsman hears another resounding crash from further forward, perhaps the next hold.

James, holding on to the guide rope as tightly as he can, looks around to see if he can see the two missing men. He steadies his feet and braces himself when the ship rolls again. He has been in a few sticky situations whilst racing cars and has even seen close friends die in crashes but he was still not quiet prepared for the savagery of this storm.

John having secured the rope squints behind the goggles and scrapes off some snowflakes...
"Man OVER!" he calls, knowing there are no audience, but true to habit - they die hard! As he heads in the direction of the second team John shouts to Callum "STAY HERE! I`LL HELP THE CAP!"

SS Gabrielle - The Southern Ocean - Approx 150 miles north of the Antarctic Circle
6:35pm - Wednesday October 26, 1933

Just for an instant John spots what may be a flashlight, out to sea, some two hundred yards off the Gabrielle's port-bow, then it's gone and John isn't even sure that it wasn't just a reflection on his goggles, visibility is terrible, the air filled as it is with spray and snow. In any case, if Sean and Cotter are out there, then they'll be dead in minutes in the near freezing waters of the Southern Ocean.

John reaches Starkweather, the English explorer grasps his outstretched mitten gratefully, and the two of them, followed by James make their way to the others clustered around the first access hatch.

Callum tells them the news, and the remaining explorers brace themselves for the perilous journey to the next access hatch.

Starkweather shouts to James, the racing ace is only a foot away, but he still struggles to hear Starkweather over the deafening noise of the storm, "Tie yourself to Henning! I'll bring up the rear!"

With two men down already, and the source of the noise still not located, the fate of the whole expedition stands on a knife edge, but at least now there are experienced mountaineers at the both front and the rear of the party.


The Southern Ocean - Close to the SS Gabrielle
6:36pm - Wednesday October 26, 1933

Three hundred yards away Sean surfaces once more, gasping for breath. His throat and lungs are burning from the icy salt water. His flashlight is gone now; it slipped out of his numb fingers the last time that he went under, and he can no longer even see the distant running lights of the SS Gabrielle in any case.

Beside him Cotter screams frantically as the two are taken under again by the raging currents of this awful storm. This time though, Sean cannot hold his breath for long enough and his consciousness mercifully slips away amid the agony as his lungs fill with the cold water of this, the most inhospitable of all the oceans...

"Poor souls..." John whispers gruntingly. He judges the surface of the ship´s deck. "Be sure to have a secure footing before you move!" He keeps a low point av gravity.

Callum continues to pick his way along the deck. His mind is in a bit of a blur with everything thats going on. The storm..The loss of the two crew men... And the fact that they don't make it to the hatch, the expedition could be over before it's really started. The pressure is on.

'Come on lads! Not far now!' Callum shouts some encouragement to the others. 'I've been in tougher situations than this before!'

Olof is just stunned. Two men... gone. The sea just swallowed them. One moment they were here, the next they were gone, dead. Olof feels empty. Callum's voice makes him pull himself together. "What do we do now?" he shouts trying to make himself heard over the sound of the storm.

James edges slowly towards Henning, making sure his feet barely leave the deck, and secures himself as tightly as he can muster. He is wishing this trip to the holds was over & hopes they find whatever is causing the crashing noise is found in the next hold.

James doesn't like the thought of Starkweather being at the rear after what just happened to Sean & Cotter but knows his experience could well save the loss of any more lives in this situation and even if he did voice any concerns he most likely wouldn't be heard!

SS Gabrielle - The Southern Ocean - Approx 150 miles north of the Antarctic Circle
6:40pm - Wednesday October 26, 1933

The explorers slowly make their way to the second access hatch, fortunately although the Gabrielle continues to pitch and roll violently in the storm, none of the huge waves that wash across the foredeck are quite as massive as the one that took away Sean and Cotter.

Olof, Henning and Starkweather all loose their footing during the treacherous deck during the journey. Of these only Henning ever looses his grip on the guide-rope as the most powerful of the waves roars over the deck, knocking him straight off his feet and washing him across the deck; fortunately both Olof and James both manage to keep a firm grip on the guide rope and Henning is quickly hauled back to safety.

As soon as they reach the second hatch, Callum and John once again get to work unfastening it. Thumps and tearing rumbles can be heard from below as soon as the hatch is open, Callum quickly directs a flashlight beam down into the number two tween-deck hold to see what has happened.

Both men let out involuntary gasps as they see the damage below. The damage, seen in the dim light from an electric torch, is horrifying. Shadows dance hugely in the torch’s dim glow.

Four engines belonging to the Boeing aircraft were stored down there, but two of them have broken free of their straps and are loose within the chamber. With each pitch and shift of the ship they roll and bound about the compartment like gigantic steel bowling balls. The remnants of their crates are wooden shards scattered about the floor.

Everything in the hold shows the scars left by the careening motors. The remaining two engines are still secure, but their crates are both battered and crushed on one end, it is impossible to tell whether the engines themselves are greatly damaged. The boxes containing the wings of the plane are dimpled and crushed by the engines’ passage in several places, and the Boeing itself shows huge dents and gaping rents in its belly and along the fuselage.

The pallet of kerosene tins that was secured against one bulkhead is smashed and askew; flammable liquid spreads from crumpled containers and sloshes across the deck with every pitch or yaw, and the thin oily scent of kerosene fills the air.

The destruction is considerable and if something is not done quickly it could get much worse. In the kerosene-smeared chamber, a chance-made spark might start a fire that could sink the ship, if it descends through the floor of wooden beams into the rows of gasoline drums in the compartment below.

Looking over John's shoulder Starkweather sees the scene of destruction, "Bloody Hell! Quickly men, there's no time to loose! We must secure those engines!"

Callum takes a good look around the hold below. The detruction he witnesses is unbelievable.

"There's some cargo nets down there. That should make it easier. When the engines roll to the side, we can cover them with the nets and lash them to the side of the hold. Even with all the pitching of the waves, it should be fairly straightforward.." He tries to make light of the situation, but knows one slip up could kill or cripple any one of them.

"That´s right Callum!""If we get down there, and hunker away from the path of the careening engines, we could come up with a plan. We´d be out of the blizzard and there are enough of mooring items down there. Plus we could sit out the storm down there, as it´s deadly to cross the deck again in these conditions." John takes a peek and looks for a safe spot in the cargo hold. "If we take cover there -", he points to the closest corner."-then we could fasten d-rings in the hull!" he pats his hammer, "Then one of us climbs over the immobile engine and do the same on the other end. While the engine rolls back and forth, we can trap it with a net, like you says, while it´s resting against the wall. The net have to be tightened real good. Then we repeat the procedure with the other engine. To finish up we secure all other crates down there, and put 'heels' down through the flooring to avoid the crates skidding off again." "But we´d better get down there first to see how this should be done." John brings up a handful of spikes, and asks for permission to head down!

James finds it hard to hear what the others are saying but as they seem to be talking about the hold James carries on edging towards the hatch, once there he realises exactly what the others were talking about & waits for his turn to head down into the hold.

Olof is nervous, but there is a job that must be done. He gets ready to climb down and do whatever he can to secure those crates.

#2 Tween Deck Hold - SS Gabrielle
6:41pm - Wednesday 26th January, 1933

Callum waits until the loose engines appear to be rolling to a relatively safe part of the hold and then clambers down the ladder, followed by John.

By the time the motions of the ship are carrying the engines back towards them they have been joined by Olof and have almost removed one of the cargo nets from the wall of the hold.

Henning is also down the ladder and is dashing towards Callum as the ship rolls, he slips off his feet and looks on in terror as one of the engine rolls straight at him. James now halfway down the ladder and Starkweather, the last man on deck, is preparing to descend as well.

#2 Tween Deck Hold - SS Gabrielle
6:41pm - Wednesday 26th January, 1933

Henning, who is half way back onto his feet, freezes as the aircraft engine hurtles towards him. Without stopping to think of his own safety Olof lets go of the net and lunges for Henning, pulling the messboy back out of the engine's path.

The engines rolls past them and narrowly misses John, who nimbly backs into the hull to get out it's way.

Henning, still looking shocked, grins at Olof, "Thanks, I thought I was a goner!"

The ship rolls again as Henning and Olof rejoin Callum and John finally getting the first net off the wall. The four then stand ready to pounce on the first engine that clatters into the closest wall. Nearby James and Starkweather pull down some ropes to help secure the engine as soon as it's in the net.

The moment of truth has arrived: an engine bounces off the side of the damaged Boeing fuselage and then careers towards the nearby wall. Those holding the net leap into action...

#2 Tween Deck Hold - SS Gabrielle
6:41pm - Wednesday 26th January, 1933

The four men holding the net surround the engine as it slams into the Gabrielle's hull. Callum trips and crashes into the wall, loosing his grip on the net.

Nearby James finds himself in the path of the other engine - he tries to dodge out of the way, but is too slow and realises that the eight hundred pound engine is going to smash right into him.

"Look out!" Starkweather dives at James, he tackles James around the chest and sends them both crashing to the floor. The rolling aircraft engine misses James by inches.

As the stormy ocean rolls the Gabrielle back in the opposite direction Starkweather and James rush over to the others carrying the ropes. With Callum still recovering from hitting the wall, the other three strain against the weight of the engine, but with the help of the ropes it is quickly secured.

As the commotion settles John prepares the next move. He brings his hammer up and nails a board to the floor, creating a ledge where the engine gets some extra stabilization.

"Let´s get this other baby tied down and secured! Are you all right, Callum?" John secures the hammer and gets ready to rumble with engine #2...

Callum rubs at the bruise on the side of his face, and the swelling that's appearing there. "Yea. I think so thanks John. That wasn't like me at all. Must have slipped on some of the Kerosene or something..."

Olof gets ready for catching the last of the engines. They seem to get the hang of it.

#2 Tween Deck Hold - SS Gabrielle
6:41pm - Wednesday 26th January, 1933

Starkweather joins John, Callum and Olof gathering the second net.

A violent motion of the ship sends James tumbling into one of the damaged crates that still house the other two Boeing engines, he quickly recovers and joins Henning getting the ropes.

The next roll of the Gabrielle sends the loose engine rolling directly towards the four men holding the net.

Starkweather shouts, "This is it lads! Get ready!"

John helps to secure the net and hollers, "Can´t hold it, it´s gliding through my hands!"

Everybody shifts their positions slightly to stay out of the engines direct path as it crashes into the wall, Olof stumbles and releases his corner of the net, which leaves John perilously close to loosing his own grip.

Fortunately with the help of Callum and Starkweather, he is able to hang on until Olof leaps back to his feet and helps out.

James and Henning dash over with the ropes and soon the second engine is secured to the hold wall.

With the tying off of the last knot, Callum breathes a huge sigh of relief.

"I'm glad that's over with! Well done every body. Bloody well done!" He then slumps down on a coil of rope to sit out the storm. "I just wish we'd brought something to drink...."

"You're not the only one, a nice shot of whisky would go down well a the moment, although I think we need to see if we can quickly clean up this Kerosene before it becomes too much of a hazard?" James slumps down to catch his breath then breaks into a grin "Well one things for sure all that excitement certainly made me forget about anything to do with sea sickness"

"On that note..." John interjects, reaches into his coat pocket and produces a tin canteen; with amber fluid, smoky essence..."this is worth waiting for, lads!" John proffers the small pocket flask to Callum, Starkweather, Olof and James. (Insignia of a yellow tiger with blue stripes...) "Compliments of old Harris, the crazy old bugger!" John bursts out in laughter, the suspense of the terrific moments of skidding and slipping. As the flask returns, it´s considerably lighter, and unfortunately empty...

Callum gratefully accepts the flask from John, and drinks deeply. The realisation of what has happened tonight begins to sink in. Yes, they have saved the engines, and the ship, but two people have died.

Poor Henning must have been cursed or something, what with being injured in the sabotage of the fridges, and now this..... Then there's Sean. "I wish I could have got to know them both better." he comments to no-one in particular. "They were good men. And they will be sorely missed."

#2 Tween Deck Hold - SS Gabrielle
6:45pm - Wednesday 26th January, 1933

Thanking John for the drink, Starkweather sits behind the others for a few minutes to recover his breath.

Overhearing Callum's comments he nods sombrely, "It's damn lucky that any of us survived Callum, there were a few hairy moments with those engines."

Look at the leaking kerosene cans in the torchlight, and thinking of the thousands of gallons of fuel in the lower hold he says, "At least they don't die for nothing. If we hadn't come, a fire down here would sunk the ship for sure, and I would not like to chance this storm in a lifeboat."

After sitting for a few minutes Starkweather takes a torch and surveys the damage to the Shackleton - it doesn't look good, and the expedition leader looks furious. "We'll have to wait until it's safe for the pilots and mechanics to survey the plane, but I doubt she'll fly again. Damn it!"

"We can manage with just two Boeings of course, but..."

"Damn!"


SS Gabrielle - The Southern Ocean - Approx 150 miles north of the Antarctic Circle
5:00am - Thursday 27th October, 1933

The six men spend an unpleasant night down in the hold, they clean up the spilled kerosene as best they can, but the fumes linger. Several cans were ruptured, but there should still be enough, providing the expedition does not overextend their stay in Antarctica.

That at least heartens Starkweather a little, "Ha! Never mind eh Callum? Scott and Shackleton never needed planes."

"Three planes, or two planes or even one, it's no matter! We press on!"

The storm shows little sign of abating during the night, so the team manage with just one flashlight lit at once, to conserve their light for as long as possible.

Finally, shortly before five in the morning the weather relents, a little at least. Gathering their gear the six men quickly make their way back up to the deck, and along the guide-rope to safety. It's snowing heavily and still rather windy, but nobody has any mishaps this time.

They are not a minute too soon, shortly after they arrive back in the mess the storm resumes it's full intensity.

The captain managed to get the Gabrielle around during the night, heading east she is no longer is serious danger as the storm batters her, but there is no way to turn back south until the ferocious storm subsides.

Most members of the expedition manage to stop themselves being sick during the day, but they are nonetheless distressed to hear crewmembers talking of storms like this lasting for days. "...when I was on this whaler..."

James is shattered after the eventful night and is pleased to be able to head back towards the cabin after the fume filled hold. He is slightly disheartened to hear people talking about how long these storms can last and hope that, on this occassion, they are proven wrong and the storm abaits soon.

Jack, still occasionally clutching his stomach, is nonetheless well enough to get the gist of what happened in the hold. A fat lot of good I was, he thinks. And two lost, untold damage ... Still, the fellows who saved us deserve an epic write-up.

SS Gabrielle - The Southern Ocean - Approx 150 miles north of the Antarctic Circle
10:00am - Friday 28th October, 1933

The survivors of the 'rescue party' are hailed as heroes by all aboard, and morale is good despite the continuing storm and the loss of life and equipment. Everyone aboard reflects on the tragic loss of their two friends Sean McPherson and Truman Cotter, but all agree that things could have turned out infinitely worse.

The furious storm continues for two whole days, calming gradually on the morning of October 28th. Visibility remains low - the sky is lost behind flurries of heavy snow - but Captain Vredenburg decides that it is finally safe to turn south in calmer seas. Gabrielle turns her bow once more toward the Pole.

Now that it is safe to move about on deck again the expedition's aircrew Kitt, McRaven, Halperin and Dewitt are finally able to inspect the damage to the Shackleton. Light clusters are once again rigged up in the number 2 hold to allow a proper assessment of the damaged airframe.

Unfortunately the damage is catastrophic: the two loose engines are in bad shape, cracked and dented in ways that make them useless -they cannot be fixed aboard the ship or on the Ice; the two engines that remain in their crates are battered but essentially undamaged, and are still usable as spares.

The Boeing aircraft itself, however, is useless. The Shackleton's wings have been crushed in places where the loose engines have smashed through the crates, its fuel tanks are punctured, and the fuselage is smashed or twisted at a number of points.

The aircrew are forced to declare the aeroplane unfit to fly.

The cause of all the damage at first appears to have been an accident, the cleats holding the straps onto the engine crates have snapped during the rough weather, allowing the two crates to slide about freely inside the hold. Collisions with the hull and with the Boeing fuselage quickly caused the crates to shatter and the two engines to run free.

The truth of course turns out to be more sinister, while inspecting the broken cleats Olof discovers similar acid pitting to that that he found earlier in the reefer hold. The cleats appear to have been carefully corroded on the underside, the damage would have been almost impossible to spot, but the weakened cleats were almost guaranteed to fail during a storm.

The number two hold has been sealed shut since the ship departed Australia, so it seems almost certain that this act was committed by Scott. His final legacy of sabotage has cost the party more than all the rest of his work together.

After hearing about and then seeing firsthand the damage inflicted on the plane, Jack seeks out Kitt to ask her assessment of how this will affect the expedition, both for the benefit of his readers and for his own peace of mind.

Olof is in a brooding mood. On a rational level he knew that an expedition like this can bring you in mortal danger, but he did not expect that it would happen this expedition and not so soon. It really feels as they are cursed with bad fortune.

John shakes the hands of all the crate-heroes and retreats to his (shared?) stateroom and excuses himself to rest and to get rid of the carosene fume-drenched clothes. The ensuing days he spends in contemplation over the harsh tutor the force of nature, once again, proves to be. When fully rested and fit for fight, John joins in the games by the card table, bringing some tin flasks of medicinal amber liquid.

John deals a quick hand of five cards poker, to the participants he disclose; "I´m surely glad to be on this side of the mess-hall again. A toast to the unfortunate ones who´ve left us... To keep the spirits up we´ve to make do with the odds mother nature throws at us. To better the odds of staying sane under these conditions, lets play and gain strength for the next test. Now, who´s in?"

LINK: View your current progress on Google Maps Here!

SS Gabrielle - The Southern Ocean - Approx 60 miles north of the Antarctic Circle
Saturday - 28th October, 1993
Noon Position: 176°34'E, 65°33'S
Distance in last 24 hours: 214 miles
Weather: Heavy Snow
Wind: WSW 5-10 knots
Visibility: Very Poor

Throughout the twenty-eighth, the ship weaves its way carefully though fleets of giant icebergs. The wind has dropped off considerably now, but visibility is very poor due the heavy flurries of snow from the West. Progress is steady, though slow, colossal ice mountains loom up through the murk of the heavy snowfall and pass by without a sound. All that can be heard above-decks is the faint whine of the wind, the hiss of waves, and the cries of the crewmen on lookout at the bow and stern.


SS Gabrielle - The Southern Ocean - Approx 32 miles south of the Antarctic Circle
Sunday - 29th October, 1993
Noon Position: 176°24'E, 66°05'S
Distance in last 24 hours: 37 miles
Weather: Scattered Heavy Snow
Wind: SW 5-10 knots
Visibility: Poor

The heavy snow continues throughout the day on October the twenty-ninth. The Gabrielle moves into a region where the surface of the sea is crowded with shards and clumps of icy slush. These clatter thinly against the hull but do not impede forward progress; nevertheless, as the sea ice grows thicker and begins to harden, the captain turns west in search of clearer water.


SS Gabrielle - The Southern Ocean - Approx 105 miles south of the Antarctic Circle
Monday 30th October, 1993
Noon Position: 172°10'E, 68°04'S
Distance in last 24 hours: 179 miles
Weather: Clear
Wind: S 10-15 knots
Visibility: Good

All of the thirtieth is spent pushing through thin sea ice, the snow has ended overnight and the skies are clear, with a freezing breeze from the south. Large ice floes are everywhere, as well as flat sheets of ice as much as a half mile long. It is clear that the Gabrielle has reached the outskirts of the pack ice; and that the pack is, indeed, loose and running. It does not, however, seem safe to turn south yet.

News arrives over the radio that the Lexington Expedition is already found a way into the pack ice.


SS Gabrielle - The Southern Ocean - Approx 159 miles south of the Antarctic Circle
Tuesday 31th October, 1993
Noon Position : 174°08'E, 68°51'S
Distance in last 24 hours: 147 miles
Weather: Cloudy
Wind: S 15-20 knots
Visibility: Good.

The following day the ship’s westward progress is stopped by ice. To the south and west, in all directions, the sheets and humps of the pack extend as far as the eye can see. The sea is flat, the sky cloudy and the air clear but cold. Even the usual swell of the sea is damped by the presence of ice on all sides. After so many days at sea, the unmoving deck feels strange underfoot. The Gabrielle sails east again, searching for clearer water, pushing slowly through a thin crust of sea ice that cracks and splinters beneath the bow.

Olof spends as much time as he can indoors, a bit terrified by the ice that seems to be able to crush them without remorse. What if they get stuck in the ice? What will they do then?

Callum makes use of the breaks in the snow to get out on deck and acclimatise himself to the temperatures down here. He eagerly hopes for a sight of land but, as he looks out at the surrounding ice bergs, he cant help but feel slightly overwhelmed by the task that lies in front of him.

Jack's editor is none too happy with the reports that Jack can confirm of the Gabrielle's unsuccessful effort to beat the Lexington expedition to the goal. But what can Jack do but report the truth? Besides, his editor already knew from the other expedition's reports.

That had put something of a damper on Jack's enthusiasm. For all his vaunted cynicism, part of him had wanted to win the race. The race wasn't over yet, or at least didn't seem to be to a lubber like Jack, but second place meant "first loser" to many of his readers, and, he had to admit, to Jack himself.

Apart from the usually filing of stories, Jack tried to busy himself with cards, conversation, and keeping warm. Kitt seemed strangely quiet, and his efforts to draw her out hadn't succeeded all that well. Perhaps something had happened between her and Greene, but neither seemed interested in speaking about it, and, as curious as Jack might be, his native reserve and own craving for privacy--not to mention his poor track record in matters of the heart--kept him silent for the most part.

For Mcraven the storms and the deaths of two of the expedition members had taken the shine off the whole deal. The news that the other team had made it first was a real body blow to the ego, and you couldn't even go above deck the weather was so foul.

So for the past few days he has been crawling all over the brokern engines to see if there are any spare bits and pieces to keep the other planes flying. And when he's not keeping an eye on the planes that survived he has been cannablising as much of the wrecked plane, for spare landing skies, the tires, wiring, valves...the works.

Anything to keep busy, to keep warm

Together with the other mountaineers, John maintains the climbing gear, looking for faulty
ropes as well as nuts and bolts in need of preparation. He too scavanges the damaged holds for useful bits and pieces to be used on climbing excursions.

For James the news of what other people were or were not doing didn't effect him as much, he was more concerned with who now gets home first!! He wasn't totally unaware of the dangers that face sea voyages when he decided to help finance this expedition and he did seem to like Starkweather & Moore, after all eccentricity goes hand in hand with the Brits, hence why he had wanted to join this group doing the near impossible. He had hoped that they would lose very few, if any, crew members but had to accept what had happened was one of those things on this kind of adventure.

James spent the calmer days at sea playing cards, doing some boxing excersizes to help keep him fit and, on the clear days, wondering at the vast ice empire spreading out in front of him. He knew this calm period would be over as soon as they were able to land.

LINK: View your latest progress on Google Maps here!


SS Gabrielle – Antarctic Ice Pack, Approx 200 miles south of Antarctic Circle, Approx 580 miles from Ross Island
Friday 3rd November, 1933
Noon Position: 178°12E 69°41S
Distance in last 24 hours: 69 miles
Weather: Clear - Barometer falling
Wind: SSW 10 mph
Visibility: Good
Sunrise: 2:35am
Sunset: 9:11pm


The SS Gabrielle skirts eastwards along the edge of the ice-pack for two more days without finding a way south. It is a frustrating period for everybody on board. Just after three o’clock in the morning on November 3rd, however, a lookout spots a broad open lead of clear water arrowing to the southeast through thicker floes.

Encouraged, Starkweather orders the captain to press on. By noon the ship has pushed twenty miles into the pack. Walls and cornices of ice rise to port and starboard, and the chunks and panes of sea ice atop the lead tinkle musically as the ship pushes through. The ice rises and falls on either side, slowly, rubbing and crumbling in blocks as big as a man, now and again splitting apart with sharp gunshot reports.

The barometer begins to fall once more toward sunset, but the ship pushes on southwards.

SS Gabrielle – Antarctic Ice Pack, Approx 50 miles south of Antarctic Circle, Approx 750 miles from Ross Island
2:00am - Saturday 4th November, 1933
Weather: Violent Storm
Wind: S 70+ mph
Visibility: Very Poor
Sunrise: 2:53am


At around midnight that night another storm hits. This one is the most powerful storm yet, with the windspeed averaging over seventy miles per hour, blown ice and hail, and heavy seas. This time, however, an added danger exists -- the pack itself.

Around the ship, the ice moans and shatters from the force of the sea. Huge bergs roll and grind against the Gabrielle as she tries to turn to clearer water, but there is nowhere to go. Again and again, the ship clangs and heels as spines and shoulders of hard ice grind against the hull. Armoured plates groan and yield, but do not break. Crewmen and passengers huddle in the mess, praying, while others toil or simply I hide. There is little else to do but wait.

Captain Vredenburg eventually manages to bring the Gabrielle around, running north with the storm, but still the onslaught continues.

SS Gabrielle – Antarctic Ice Pack, Approx 110 miles south of Antarctic Circle, Approx 690 miles from Ross Island
Sunday 5th November, 1933
Noon Position: 179°12E 68°09S
Distance in last 24 hours: 184 miles
Weather: Clear
Wind: S 10-15 mph
Visibility: Good
Sunrise: 2:41am
Sunset: 8:57pm


The ship survives - miraculously, it seems. The deck is awash with ice, and great seams and gouges can be seen over the rail - but the storm passes with the night, as swiftly as it came, leaving behind a new world.

To all sides the solid walls of the pack are broken. Narrow cracks and threads of open water show at every hand. The Gabrielle turns southward again, pushing gently into the pack and forcing her own way carefully forward beneath a smoking blue sky. All hands are required on deck to help push away the smaller bergs with long poles, or repair the damage left by the squall.

Forcing the pack is a dangerous undertaking. The ship’s engines roar and rumble as she inches up to a floe, nestling softly alongside, then churning the sea behind with all the power she can bear. Usually the ice yields. Again and again she presses forward in this way, the heavy crashing thrum resounding through the hull.

The pack ice on all sides is very thick and very old. Weird hummocks and spires rise up at odd angles; layers of dark and light ice like the striations in ancient stone can be seen at every hand. All around are the colours of the sea: white, green, and every shade of blue, shifting from instant to instant and sparkling like cast diamonds in a stray ray of sunshine.

Throughout November the fourth and the fifth the Gabrielle pushes onward through the pack. On the morning of the fifth, the radio reports that Acacia Lexington’s Tallahassee is trapped deep within the ice, not more than three hundred miles to the east. There is no way the Gabrielle could help the other ship, but from the satisfied look on Starkweather’s face when he hears the news, it is just as well.

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SS Gabrielle – Antarctic Ice Pack - 178°47'E 69°20'S - Approx 190 miles south of the Antarctic Circle, Approx 610 miles from Ross Island
9:10am - Monday 6th November, 1933
Current Position: 178°47'E 69°20'S
Distance since noon: 46 miles
Weather: Misty
Wind: SW <5 mph
Visibility: Poor
Sunrise: 2:36am
Sunset: 9:02pm

On November 6th, the wind dies out and a thin mist descends upon the sea. Ghostly vaporous fingers rise from the water and curl around the ice; the colours of the sea and sky blend and twist eerily off of the pack. Distant objects blur and reappear like illusions - one minute the lookouts can see to the horizon, the next the nearest bergs are all that can be made out through the haze.

About nine o'clock that morning, as most of the expedition are finishing their breakfasts in the messes, a cry is heard from the lookout high above the deck, as a darkened mass on the far side of an iceberg comes into view. As the Gabrielle gets closer, the bow of a trapped whaler can be seen protruding from the ice, half frozen and adrift.

As members of the expedition and the crew gather on deck to see what's happening, First Officer Turlow surveys the wreck through his binoculars. "It's the Wallaroo," he says, uneasily. "She disappeared last autumn during a squall. No one has found a trace of her - until now."

As the Gabrielle pushes closer to the trapped vessel Starkweather, Moore, and Captain Vredenburg discuss what to do. It's decided to lower a launch and send a small team across.

Starkweather comes looking for volunteers, "I'll be going of course, but we'll need six or eight good men at least - for safety."

The expedition leader looks to Jack, "I assume you'll be coming along Jack? Don't forget your camera; your editor won't want to miss out on this!"

John raises a hand and says; " My rope is offered as always, Sir! I´ll tag along to keep my skills honed. Unless someone else prefer to get some excercise, that is. I´m ready."

"You can count me in too Boss. Just keep those Frozen Zombie Sailors at bay please." jokes Callum

"I might as well join you, after all there isn't much else to do around here" James laughs

"Sure, sure," Jack says to Starkweather. "I'll be just a moment as I get my gear." Jack is just a bit excited to be getting off the ship, even for a moment, although he realizes quickly that his new mission could turn out to be a rather grim one, depending on what exactly they find. If it's as bad as he could imagine, his editor won't much care for the photos. But all that remained to be seen.

McRaven looks over towards the stranded ship, he feels uneasy about what they might find, but he steps forward anyway.

"I'll tag along!"

Isugtag's eyes are closed as Starkweather and Turlow explain about the Wallaroo. He's anxious to be on the ice. All this sailing doesn't suit him. Still, it wouldn't do not to investigate the wreck. Seems like it's a foregone conclusion at any rate. He is Starkweather's bodyguard, too, so he may as well act the part.

Isugtag lets out a grunt and raises his hand so as to be included in the boarding party. Let's get this over with, he thinks to himself.

A launch containing Starkweather, Turlow, Isugtag, McRaven, Jack, James, Callum, John , Dr Greene and two of the Gabrielle’s deckhands is lowered into the water. Everybody has their cold weather gear on, and there’s plenty of rope aboard.

The Gabrielle is drifting about one hundred yards from the frozen hulk of the Wallaroo; as the boarding party rows towards the stricken whaler they can make out more details.

The hull is split in half at the midpoint; ice completely encompasses the fore section, while in the aft the distinctive twisted metal of a boiler explosion scars the hull. Eerily distorted whistles of wind careen through the misshapen pinnacles of ice.

Well at least it's nice and cold, Isugtag thinks to himself. Oddly enough his spirits are lifted a bit once they're off the Gabrielle and close to the water. The wind and the cold air buoy him and the work of rowing helps to maintain that sensation.

Isugtag tries to analyze the damage, but figures it'll be easier once they reach the derelict so he focuses on pulling the oars. Taking a deep breath and letting the cold air flow through him he rows harder wondering what they'll find on the Wallaroo.

Jack lets out a low whistle in amazement as he looks at the damage to the other ship.

McRaven ponders the frozen ice locked wreck and shudders, but not from the cold.
"I suppose they must have lost power to their engines...poor bastards"

"Oh my god!" gasps Callum on seeing the extent of the damage. "What a mess...... I really hope tnat the crew died quickly and painlessly. Dying alone slowly in the cold, is not a very nice way to go."

Patting the sack of salt in place in his pack John glares at the damaged vessel. "In case we need to pry some equipment loose to get more leverage by melting some ice." He carefully watches his steps as they close in on their point of entry.

Olof chose to stay behind. Even if the exploration of the whaler would be interesting, what would they find there? Dead whalers? Not a pretty prospect, but the engineer guesses that it is the sacred duty of a passing ship to see what happened with the crew and to report what has happened.

James doesn't say much as they take in the damage but is impressed at John's foresight to bring along the salt.

SS Walleroo - Antarctic Ice Pack - Approx 190 miles south of the Antarctic Circle
9:35am - Monday 6th November, 1933

As the launch is rowed close up to the stricken Walleroo it becomes clear that there are only two ways aboard, either somebody needs to throw up a rope gaining direct access to the deck, or everybody will need to clamber over the ice, scaling the berg where it surrounds the forward portions of the vessel.

Turlow points up to a damaged section of railing, twisted and broken by the explosion and the effects of the ice pack, “Anyone think they can get a rope around that?”

McRaven ponders the scene for a few moments

"We should have brought some climbing gear with us I guess" He then looks over to the stoic & unflappable Isugtag
"What do you reckon buddy, think you could get a rope up there?"

John, never leaving without the climbing gear, hurls a grappling hook, fastened to a rope, up the cliff face. He watches the arc the hook does and pulls it at the exact moment to secure it. Then tests it for reliability. "Isugtag, will you do the honours?" John follows and bring up a second rope, and throws down one end for the others to secure with carbine hooks. Then he and Isugtag helps lifting the others up.

When Isugtag seems undecided to head up first, John beats him to it and scales the cliff face, throwing down the second rope end to make a msihap more unlikely...

"Coming up now!" shouts Callum. He quickly checks the rope, more out of habit than anything else, then heads up to join John at the top.

It wasn't Williams forte but he grabbed the rope and began to pull himself up, to his surprise he acutally made...he allows himself a brief smile to the others as he gets on to the top, then starts to look around the wreck that awaits them.

Olof fetches a pair of binoculars so he can watch the team that investigates the whaler at least until they go inside.

"See anything?" Graves had walked over to Olof as he peered at the wreck through his binoculars.

Straining his eyes to see through the sunlight which reflected off the surrounding peaks of ice, the Professor tried to make out what was happening to his companions aboard the Walleroo.

It was only now, as he stood motionless on the deck of the ship looking over the water to that ruined vessel, that it really hit him how cold and lonely it was out here. He crossed his arms over his stomach tightly, trying his best to keep out the biting wind and watched as his friends climbed the rope in the distance.

From top of the shelf John surveys the Australian whaler from the vicinity of Adelaide. Trying to get bearings to where the entrance to the mess hall could be he makes his way towards the main structure of the iced deck. Holding a safety rope tied to a iced railing. As he gets close to the entrance he says to the others accompanying him, "Time for a picture, Jack?" John puts down his gear in front of the door and kneels by the pack and awaits the others to huddle up. The swarming icy snow flakes whip his chin as he tries a smile.

On the deck of the SS Walleroo
John climbs aboard the Walleroo just forward of the mid-ships superstructure, and begins leading the others aft. The superstructure, where the bridge, mess and most of the cabins will be located is still intact, but everything aft of that has either been destroyed by the apparent boiler explosion, or is completely encased within the iceberg.

The forward deck of the ship is weathered and warped by the pressures of the ice and everything is covered in a layer of guano and rime.

Ahead of them as they approach the superstructure the explorers can see several bodies laid out on the deck outside the cabins in two neat rows, they look to be frozen solid and in several cases the remains are completely covered by ice. Turlow grimly mutters a prayer as they approach the bodies.

Feeling ghoulish, Jack takes some pictures of the deck and the bodies. He'd seen plenty of dead bodies in his day, and he would have thought the war would've inured him to queasiness about seeing them. But something about the way these were laid out made his heart sink.

Passing Jack, John walks towards the cargo holds, to see if there are any means of gaining access to see what she was carrying.

McRaven grimaces slightly as Jack takes pictures of the dead crewmen.
"Why would they leave dead outside?"

Isugtag walks up to the bodies and kneels down beside the closest one. It's certainly not the first time he's seen a frozen corpse, but that doesn't make it any more pleasant. He can't help but wonder the same thing McRaven does, and why they'd be lined up like this? Who lined them up? It's probably not likely that whoever it was would dutifully lie down at the end of the line to pass away so there has to be another body somewhere ...

"Either someone took them outside to avoid getting infected by something they have...But then I would have burned them, or thrown them overboard." John thinks for a moment. "It could be a warning to trespassers." With even more resolve he closes in on the cargo holds. (If someone went through this much fuss to deter others from getting on board - what were they hiding?)

"Well whatever the reason, I'm pretty sure we'll find more...I think we should get to the bridge and find the Captains cabin...if we're lucky he may have kept a detailed log"

McRaven looks aft and then up at the ice encrusted superstructure of the bridge.

"Come on guys, at least moving around will keep us warm, then we can see what happened to these poor bastards"

"I think it's most likely, that the last survivors lined them up outside like this, just to preserve the bodies, and so they didn't have to look at them. Probably there are other remains inside somewhere." says Callum.

He follows Bill and the others to the bridge...

Olof continues watching the boarding party from afar.

OOC: How much detail can I make out with a pair of binoculars? I do not know the magnifying strength of these things.

James, relieved that he made it to the deck with no mis-hap, stops in his tracks when he sees the lines of bodies. He knew the expedition would be dangerous but having lost 2 of his colleagues during the storm & seeing bodies laid out like that just brings it home even more luckily, having the sense of adventure that he has, James doesn't let the grim discovery let him waiver for long.

"Probably a good idea McRaven" James agree's and heads over in the direction that his team mate has started walking off in.

Isugtag pauses just a moment longer by the stacked bodies. What the others say is probably true, but something just seems wrong to him still. Nothing he can quite put his finger on, but it bothers him just the same. Finally he stands up and makes his way towards the bridge and his companions.

John sees the others team up at the bridge construct. He halts his trail towards the cargo holds. "We´ll leave these for later, then." He keeps om steady feet as he joins up with the others. As he glances at the Gabrielle he waves to Olof by the railing.

From closer up, it is apparent that a few of the bodies have had limbs torn off, probably during the boiler explosion.

McRaven and Callum lead the others up the outside stairs to the bridge deck, there is a heavy build-up of ice over the bridge door, this will take some shifting...

OOC: *****

On the bridge deck of the Gabrielle Olof can see the boarding party make their way aft along the main deck, they pause to examine something then walk a little way forward again, taking stairs up to the bridge deck.

He can still see them, but he’ll loose sight as soon as they enter the bridge.

Isugtag begins clearing the ice from the bridge door. The work is hard, but he's enjoying it. It takes his mind of the gruesome sight of the bodies.

John uses the climbing axe to clear a patch on the opposite side of Isugtag. "Hopefully the inside is less iced..."

As Olof sees how the boarding party disappears into the whaler, he will go indoors and warm himself, getting a book and reading about the geology of Antarctica.

McRaven watches Isugtag and John hack away at the ice...he'd help but its crowded round the door and it would be too easy for someone to get in the way of a pick. Instead he takes to stamping his feet up and down every now and then, in an effort to keep warm while watching his companions work away at the ice.

As he´s hacked away with the pick axe, creating a couple of pockets, where the iced door meets the door frame , John pours salt in the holes and takes a step back. Watching as the salt eats its way to the corroded metal door. "Save your strength mate, we just wait a sec!" John looks at Isugtag for comfirmation.
---------------------------------
After a few minutes of regaining strength he lays a last hand the door, clearing off the last slush from the frame connecting to the door´s face.

The salt does the trick and soon John and Isugtag have got bridge door open. Unfortunately the bridge itself is quite bare, stripped of any useful equipment or information.

A set of stairs leads down from the bridge back to the deck below; the captain’s cabin is probably very close to the bottom of the stairs. It’s very dark down there, but fortunately several flashlights have been brought along.

****************

Back on the Gabrielle, Olof, Kitt and Graves have now lost sight of all the boarding party; there is little that they can do now but wait.

Isugtag at John's ingenuity and agrees that it's probably a good idea to save their strength. He's a little disappointed that there's not much on the bridge, but the stairs down are intriguing. He moves to head down them, but thinks better of it and waits for someone with a flashlight.

Callum moves forward and offers a flashlight to the big Inuit. "Do you want this, or should I go first? Any one want to volunteer?"

Isugtag smiles and nods at Callum before accepting the proffered flashlight. He takes a deep breath, looks over his companions, switches the light on and starts making his way carefully down the stairs.

Isugtag leads the way downstairs; his flashlight illuminates a long corridor, running the length of the Walleroo’s ‘midships castle.’

The corridor is empty; all the doors that line it appear to be closed. The metal door closest to the foot of the stairs had the word “CAPTAIN” stencilled onto it.

Isugtag stops and considers the door with "CAPTAIN" written on it. The bodies up on the deck must have gotten to him because he hesitates a bit. He reaches for the door knob and pauses with his hand on it. He looks back at the rest of the party as if to say, Everyone ready?

Jack nods his assent. Here goes nuthin'...

Taking a deep breath Isugtag turns the knob and opens the door ...

McRaven watches and realises that his jaw is clenched tight from the tension. He chuckles inwardly wondering what they expected to find here...a mental image flashes across his mind of whats inside...The captain, wrapped in blankets, seated before a small gas stove, lookng up he shouts "What the hell kept you guys?"

McRaven can't supress the smile and chuckles to himself.

Picking up on the tensions around him James starts to feel a little tense but remains calm as there might not actually be much down here and doesn't want to get too worked up just to feel deflated if they find no answers..

The door isn't locked, and opens fairly easily despite the hinges being a little frozen.

The captain’s cabin looks like it was once quite luxurious, it’s large (for a cabin) and furnished with a comfortable feather bed, a small desk, and an iron-banded trunk.

The frozen body of the captain lies on the bed, there are large brown blood stains on both the cabin wall and the bed sheets, and the back of the captain’s head has been blown out by a gunshot. A revolver lays next to the captain’s outstretched arm, and an empty whisky bottle stands on the desk by his bed.

Isugtag views the scene inside the captain's cabin. Unfortunately, due to the circumstances, it doesn't shock him as much as it might have otherwise. He moves over to the desk and begins searching it.

The all too real and sobering sight of the former Captain of the vessel, replaces the macabre humour with red-faced embarrasment for McRaven. He whispers a brief apology to the body on the bed, and while Isugtag begins the search of the table, he heads over to the trunk. As he kneels down to it, he takes the time to look under the bed.

Jack takes the grisly picture that he figured he'd have to take, all the while wondering what happened.

"Poor man. What a way to go." remarks Callum.

He walks away from the bed to check out the trunk, with McRaven...

The trunk is locked and also looks sturdy enough to be difficult to open with the limited tools that the boarding party have to hand.

The key is quite possibly on the captain’s body, or in one of his desk drawers, both of which are currently closed.

Seeing that the trunk is locked and Callum and McRaven can't open it, Isugtag searches the desk more thoroughly hoping to find a key. Hmm, is there any place on this desk I haven't looked yet? he thinks to himself.

The trunk looked well built and was not going to be easy to bust open. Looking up McRaven grimaced as he considered the dead captain lying on the bed. He shakes his head slightly and getting up, he moves closer to the body and begins to search for keys. He thinks the obvious place to start would be a pocket watch, he remembers that some old timers would keep keys and other knick-knacks on the watch chain.

"If we don´t find the key we´ll have to lug it with us. No use leaving things valuable enough to keep under lock and key here." John measures the trunk and attempts to lift it carefully. just to judge the possibilty to carry it off ship. Realizing it´s the obvious place to hide secrets. John puts down the trunk and starts to search the cabin floor for uneven spots.

"I wonder why he would take his own life like this? surely they would have had some hope of eventualy getting clear of the ice or being rescued?" James is perplexed at the scene, from his expercience Captains of ships tended to be either quite intellegent or strong willed men it must have taken a vast amount of desperation or a breakdown of some sort for him to take his own life?

McRaven looks up at James "I guess it came down to the Lady or the Tiger...you know? Bullet to the brain, quick and clean, or slowly go mad then freeze to death"
The pilot the goes back to the grim task of searching the captains body.

McRaven finds a single key in the one of the captain’s pockets, the only other things of interest are a penknife and a pocket watch.

The desk drawer opens easily, the inside is lined with oiled leather to protect the contents against the harsh elements. Inside the drawer Isugtag finds the Walleroo’s logbook, together with several personal letters, a fountain pen and a photograph showing the captain with his wife and three boys.

The final entry in the logbook is detailed below:

SS Walleroo - Captain’s Log - Final Entry wrote:March 12th. It is over. My hand is wholly useless now, lost to the gangrene, and the red lines of infection have spread past the tourniquet and up my arm. There is nothing to be done. My own stench disgusts me.

Bowers passed on in the night.

I am no Shackleton, no Mawson, to face the odds and overcome them. I am merely an old tired soul who has lost the gamble and will die alone upon the ice. The horrible endless ice. It is beautiful, but heartless. In these past few days I have come to hate its cruelty. It cries, and whispers, and moans to me in the still air, grinding hopes and prayers away in mindless hostile fury. I pray the others got away. There is nothing for anyone here. Even the whales are long gone.

Should anyone ever find this log, let me praise once again the excellence and skill of my officers and crew. Their loyalty and stout hearts are without peer. I wish them well and pray that they are now safely homeward bound.

I give my love to Nancy and the boys. May they find happiness in years to come. I only regret I cannot hold them to me one last time.

God forgive me for what I am about to do.

Stephen Willard, Captain
SS Walleroo.

As he removed the logbook, Isugtag also noticed that there appears to be a false panel at the back of the drawer.

"Where would 'the others' have gone?" Jack wonders aloud.

"Poor bastards must have taken a lifeboat...." McRaven falls silent then, and moves back to the trunk, key in hand.

Isugtag reads the last entry in the logbook then passes it around to the others for their perusal. He looks at the captain and feels sorry for him. The isolation and feeling of inevitability must have been awful. Isugtag looks back to the drawer and scoops up the remaining contents. Noticing the evidently false door on the drawer he attempts to open it up or at least to figure out how it works.

"I think all we can do is take these items, in the hope of passing them on to his family. It will be some small comfort, but at least they can put the matter of their missing father, and husband, finally to rest."

The key that McRaven found unlocks the trunk, which turns out to contain the Captain’s changes of clothes, a box of .38 ammunition for his revolver, and very little else.

Isugtag locates a small catch that opens the hidden panel. Behind the panel he finds a leather pouch and intriguingly another key. The pouch feels like it contains coins.

When John finishes the search without finding anything he exits the captain´s room and takes a look in the corridor. "Can someone shine a light over here? I´m freezing my nose off. Let´s get those doors checked." John waits in the doorway.

McRaven places the box of shells for the .38 on the bed, then methodically checks through the clothes and the interior of the trunk

Callum walks over to John and lights the area he is looking at, with his lamp. "There you go matey. That any better?"

"That´s just great Callum! I´ll check if these doors are stuck or not." John walks along the corridor and tries the doors...

Jack ambles over to Callum and John to see whether he can be of any help.

Isugtag takes the pouch and the key. Look here, he grunts, showing the key and the pouch to the rest of the group. He gives the pouch a gently shake as he displays it so the others can hear what he assumes is money.

McRaven smiles as Isugtag shows the group the key

"John? Do you reckon you could find the pursers safe in this beat up old tug?"

John looks at McRaven. "If we find the purser´s office, no problem, it should be here somewhere..." As he tries the doors he read the plaques if any are visible. Vapors surround John as he works his way down the corridor.

The only other doors with writing stencilled onto them are the First Officer’s cabin, the radio room, and the galley; there are six other doors, all leading into deserted crew cabins. The corridor ends in a tangled mess of twisted metal, broken wood and solid ice close to a hatch door that John realises leads back out onto deck where the bodies were lined up.

Noticeably there aren’t any more bodies inside the ship, other than Captain Willard’s, it appears that all the other dead are lined up out on deck. Everyone else must have left in the boat.

Looking back through all of the cabins with Callum and Jack, John finds a small safe in the First Officer’s cabin, but its door is open, the interior is empty and a key has been left in the lock. The safe key is larger than the one that Isugtag found.

Isugtag is intrigued by the key he's found, but so far they haven't seen whatever it is the key unlocks. Maybe there's something on the bridge they missed, or something aft ...

"Maybe it´s for the cargo holds!" John suggests, "Let´s find out... this corridor is impassable."

"Do you fancy going hunting for whatever that key fits?" James say's to Isugtag. "If enough care has been taken to hide the key in a hidden compartment then it muct be reasonably important!"

Isugtag nods his assent to James. Perhaps there's something we missed on the bridge? If not we could head aft ...

"Well...we should give this room a proper once over make sure there is no wall or floor safes...then we can try the cargo holds, see if there was any secured stuff down there...we can't hang around here too long though"

Isugtag nods in agreement at McRaven, and then remembers the leather pouch he found in the drawer as well. He'd been so focused on the key, he'd almost forgotten about it. From the sounds of it there was money inside, but he can't be certain. Isugtag doesn't have much use for coin at the moment--and certainly stealing from the dead is not something he's apt to do--but on the off-chance there's something else in there he tugs on the small strings to open it up and peek inside.

Isugtag tips the contents of the pouch out onto his hand, it does indeed contain coins, but rather usual ones. There are eight gold coins in all - the markings on the coins are unfamiliar and each coin is different, but they all seem to depict strange sea creatures.

These are interesting, Isugtag says. The designs are unfamiliar to him, but otherwise it looks like ordinary currency. Possibly from some country he's not familiar with. He has no idea as to their worth and doesn't really care, but he wonders if it's worth taking them. He shows them to the rest of the group to get their thoughts. Should we take them? Stealing from the deceased isn't all that appealing, but do we need them?

"I can't imagine what good coins are going to do us on the ice," Jack says. "I could always take a picture of these if you'd prefer that we not be seen as looting the dead. Not that these fellows are going to make much use of money where they went, but maybe there are family members. Might be a good idea to take a picture or two anyway, for identification purposes."

Nobody recognises the creatures depicted on the coins, or the origin of the coins themselves. Several of the creatures feature tentacles, either as their main limbs or sprouting from their faces.

There are also letters or numbers marked onto the coins, but not in any language that anybody recognises.

"At the very least we can pass them on to the mans family" Says McRaven wondering if the lock to the small key Isugtag found is in fact hidden also in the room.

"Sure, I guess," Jack says. He's not strongly committed to one course of action regarding the coins, as long as it doesn't involve profiting from the dead--which he has no reason to believe McRaven is planning on.

"Let's get a picture of them, anyway," Jack says, "for the record. I've document most everything else in this crypt."

Isugtag starts to put the coins back in the drawer, but then McRaven mentions trying to get them back to the man's family. The Inuit thinks on this and eventually argrees. He nods and pockets the pouch.

Inside the SS Walleroo:

A further search of the captain's cabin doesn't reveal any hidden safes, or anything else that the mysterious key might fit.

Jack snaps a photo of Captain Willard's body.

Looking back at the previous few pages of the captain's log reveals that all but three of the crew were planning to head north in a boat due to supplies running perilously low. The three who weren't leaving were the dying captain and two others too injured to move, both of these passed away before Willard took his own life (Bowers was the last to die).

"Poor bastards," says Turlow sadly, "they never made it to safety."

On Deck:

John leads the way onto deck - accompanied by Starkweather and anyone else who's checking the holds. The Walleroo has three holds - the heavy cargo hatches of each hold are closed, but they accessible through small access hatches on deck.

Opening any of the hatches will require either ice scraping, or more salt.

On the SS Gabrielle:

Anyone remaining on deck can now see John and Starkweather leading some of the boarding party back onto deck.

"If we get into one we, might see if there is a crate for the key..." John gets the ice pick ready. "If we´re not better off heading our way?" He looks at Stakweather and watches if the sea dog shows signs of fatigue.

James ponders on what the coins could mean, where they came from & why the captain of the SS Walleroo had such unusual items?? he heads, quietly in thought, after the others back onto deck to see if they can get the hatches to the holds open.

Isugtag heads up on deck to help with the holds, too. He doesn't mind working the ice, but certainly if there's any of that salt left it would be handy.

McRaven takes one last look around the cabin, then heads up with others, keeping his thoughts to himself.

Jack tags along, hoping there won't be anything else awful to take photographs of.

Hacking away without salt available John quickly gets fatigued and has to take a breather. He watches the Gabrielle moving up and down and starts to fantasise about a cup of steaming hot tea and perhaps tiffin.

SS Wallaroo - The Cargo Holds.


Isugtag soon arrives to help John with the hatch, he still has some salt and makes short work of opening the access hatch.

This first cargo hold is the ship’s main hold and contains the frozen remains of several dead whales. The bodies have been harvested and barrels a fat and blubber, skeletons, meat and various other items of independent value have been stacked neatly around the hold.

The room is about half full, and smells faintly of dead flesh. Although everything is frozen solid, the closed hatch has kept out the ice that covers everything on deck.

The second hold appears to have once held much of the Wallaroo’s general supplies. It is empty now save for a few open crates that once held canned food.

The final hold is much the same, but in one corner is a strong box - still closed and secured by a heavy padlock.

Isugtag moves slowly through the hatches, searching as he goes. Nothing too unusual thus far, alas. Presently, though, he spots a box sitting back in the corner ... with a padlock on it. He hurries over to try the key he found in the lock ...

John follows the arctic guide and studies the strong box.

SS Wallaroo - Down in the hold.

The key fits perfectly and Isugtag quickly removes the padlock. Members of the boarding party gather around as the Inuit guide lifts the lid of the strongbox, revealing Captain Willard’s priced treasure: twelve bottles of Rye whiskey.

Starkweather chuckles, “Not so mysterious as those coins.”

“I don’t think we can do much else here. All that remains is to decide what to do with the bodies.”

Despite himself, Isugtag had been a bit excited about the prospect of what might be in the box. When the liquor was revealed he couldn't help but be a little disappointed. Still, at least that's one mystery solved.

He considers Starkweather's comment about the bodies, but he's not sure what can be done. Obviously they all can't be given a burial.

"The only thing we can do Mr Starkweather is give them a burial at sea, then radio what we found, other than that, I think we're done here"

Salvaging the bottles, John sees the find as a replacement to his ´medical stash´from the Cleopatra at bay in Australia. "Can warm us in two ways if the need knocks on the door..." John prepares to leave the Wallaroo.

"I agree. A burial at sea is the only thing we can do, Mr Starkweather." says Callum.

Isugtag grunts his consent to the burial at sea and prepares to leave.

Thinking about the couple of alternatives of burying the bodies or taking them back when the expedition was over was not appealing at all. "I think a sea buriel is the only option really and isn't that what sailors do anyway?" James is more looking for reassurance that this is the right thing to do rather than making a statement.

Hell if I know, Jack thinks. All I know about the sea is what I've read in books and articles..

"Let's be done with this, fellows," he says at last. "This is a bad business."

"We shouldn´t disturb these souls more than we already have. They have found their resting place. Not before long they will be draped in ice or the shelf ice will crush this hull. I say we head back and let the fate of the Wallaroo be known to the public when we get home." John leaves the porthole of the cargo hold and heads over to where they scaled the ship´s icy outside earlier. He hands the crate of whiskey to Callum , "Lower this to me when I´m firmly off of this ship, alright mate?"
The situation could be the beginning of a nice weekend of old stories and golden liquid down soar throats, but he guessed against it. When he gets down John keeps one of the ropes tight to provide a railing of sorts for the less experienced climbers on this excursion.

On Deck - SS Wallaroo

Turlow looks sadly at the lined up bodies, “Mr Rhyes is probably right, though it’s awful to leave them here.”

“If we took them aboard the Gabrielle, they could be stored frozen in the reefer hold and returned to their families.”

Pointing out at the oceans surface the first officer says, “A proper burial at sea for so many my not be any easy thing in this environment.”

The sea here is covered entirely with thick slush, and broken pieces of ice ranging in size from a few feet to several miles across.

Jack sympathizes with Turlow's predicament but doesn't feel competent to offer advice. He hopes, though, that eventually Turlow will at least decide against trying to ship the bodies back to the Gabrielle, which sounded nothing short of nightmarish to Jack.

After hearing Turlow mention the current condition of the seas where they are he reconsiders his thoughts on the matter. Surely bringing the bodies over to the Gabrielle would take an inordinate amount of time. Something they might not be able to spare.

After The Wallaroo
November 6th, 1933

With saddened hearts the boarding party all follow John back off the Wallaroo and down to the launch, rowing back to the Gabrielle and leaving the bodies aboard their icy tomb. Captain Vredenburg logs the position where the frozen hulk of the SS Wallaroo was sighted and that is that...

The Gabrielle pushes southward through the pack for two more days after leaving the whaler behind. Fog shrouds the surface of the ice, burning off only briefly when southern winds bring sharp flurries of snow. Each day is the same, an endless grinding succession of
thrusts against the icy walls of the lead. Sometimes progress is made; more often it is not. Forward motion is measured in feet - at best, in yards.

Trapped!
November 8th, 1933

On November 8th the last lead closes over, both before and behind. The Gabrielle is trapped in a narrow stretch of water, her hull sandwiched closely between the frozen walls. The pack beyond is utterly silent, save for an occasional sharp report or a long drawn out groan.

Starkweather and Professor Moore join the officers of the Gabrielle and various interested expedition members surveying the ice. “As I see it men, we have only two choices,” Starkweather tells the assembled explorers. “We either wait for a storm to free us - a risky undertaking at best, I think - or we blast our way free.” He grins. “I favour the dynamite; what say the rest of you?”

The debate over whether or not to use dynamite seems to take an eternity, but eventually most agree that it’s better than sitting around hoping for another major storm and the dynamite is broken out.

Professor Griffith, Nils Sorensen and Olof all have a small amount of experience with explosives, as do all of those who attended Starkweather’s popular explosive classes. All explorers with sufficient skill are gathered together into two blasting teams and lowered over the side of the ship onto the ice.

Climbing the floes, they scout forward and aft, in search of weak spots and clear water. Once it has been decided where to place the sticks of dynamite, the charges are planted and detonated on long fuses.

The first explosions seem impossibly loud. Sprays of ice fly everywhere, and puffs of smoke billow upward. The ship is forced forward with the full power of her engines—once, twice, a third time in grinding surges - and the lead groans open with a roar. Everyone cheers.

Explosives are used a half-dozen more times over the following two days, when the old thick ice seems impassable; each time, after a try or two, the ship pushes through, her wrought iron sides scarred and dented but unbroken.


Lexington Reaches Antarctica!
November 10th, 1933

On November 10th the wireless brings the news: Acacia Lexington’s party has established their base camp on the Ross Sea Barrier. From the bridge of the Gabrielle the ice stretches unbroken in all directions. The open water of the Ross Sea seems impossibly far away.

The next day, however, the ship finds thinner ice. It is a ticklish passage - the pack is loose and the heavy floes slam together without warning, threatening to crush the hull - but Captain Vredenburg manages to save the ship time and again, nudging ancient bergs forward to thrust others aside with a delicate hand.

The Ross Sea
November 13th, 1933

On the 12th of November, snow flurries once again close the world to within a few yards of the ship. The expedition pushes forward gingerly with lookouts straining to all sides. Hours pass in the cold wet of the storm; then one of the lookouts calls out, “A sea! A sea!”

The captain orders all engines stopped. As the rumble and motion ceases, everyone aboard suddenly knows that it is true. The ship is rocked gently in the slow swell of an open sea once more. For all that night and into the following day, the ship pushes on through the pack. The fog lifts early on a rough horizon of pancake ice and heavy bergs below a water-dark line of distant sky; thick sea mists close in again soon after, locking the world away once more, but the ice is loose and easily shoved aside. At 10:20 on the morning of November 13th, Gabrielle pushes into open water at last, to sounds of celebration from the crew and the expedition, turning southwest towards her chosen goal.

Land Sighted!
November 14th, 1933

Early on November 14th, twenty eight days after leaving Melbourne, land is sighted to the south. A few hours later, the horizon is filled with the sight of the Admiralty Range humbling the land below them. A tired but elated crew at last reach the Antarctic, and Ross Island. On deck the sun breaks through the thinning clouds.

A week after the retrieval, salvage or theft of the Rye Whiskey John stands with the crew and exploration party on deck. The panorama is breath taking as they slip through the calm sea.
"To our health!" John salutes the closest bystanders and unscrews one bottle of Whiskey. He fills the cap, downs the invigorating drops and offers the next cap it to Isugtag along with the bottle.

Knowing there´ll be a brisk journey ahead, he´d prepared with double layers of clothing under the arctic survival anorak provided by Moore. The two packs resting by his legs contained the supplies he brought from Melbourne. Two sets of climbing gear and the Whiskey along with the shotgun and shells. John watches the clearing weather and says, "This makes for a very cold night..."

"To our health!" Olof swallows the liquour. The previous days have been adventurous at least. Blowing up ice is not exactly the same as blowing up solid rock, but Olof is glad that his expertise has been useful.

Isugtag nods at John and accepts the offered slug of liquor before passing it on to the next person. The Wallaroo was a depressing derelict but one Isugtag hoped was not a portent of things to come. He is very much looking forward to getting off the ship and onto the ice. Something far more familiar to him ... more like home.

McRaven looks up at the clear sky and smiles slightly..."good flying weather though" He takes a shot of the whiskey and passes it on

Jack takes a swig and feels the familiar burn. He'd sworn off alcohol--pretty much, anyway--but things'd been grim and seemed, if anything, destined to be grimmer. "Health," he says, thinking about the dead sailors.

To McRaven John says, "So priority one is to get the machines fitted when we touch ice then?" He puts the cap on and pockets the bottle of Rye. Having spent a good half hour looking at the icy scene John decides to warm his feet in the mess room.

McRaven chuckles at Johns comment "Nope, I miss flying thats all, although when we do touch base getting the kites ready will be my priority"

"We need the kites to pull the sledges? I missed out on that class. Busy prepping the ropes." As they chat, John looks for the material on the agenda for day one on the ice.

Graves stares with awe at the endless miles of ice and snow that lies before them.

A shudder runs down his spine, maybe its the cold but perhaps its the realization that one mistake from any one of them from now on could spell disaster for them all.

He heads back to his cabin to check his equipment and medical supplies one last time, determined that if anyone is to be the weak link it will not be him.

During the morning of Tuesday 14th November the Gabrielle sails steadily towards Ross Island, the smoking form of the Mount Erebus volcano looms ahead.

Professor Moore assembles the expedition in the officers mess where he and Captain Starkweather recap the expedition’s landing plan, drawn up during the voyage by themselves, the Sorensen brothers, Sykes and later Callum.

A large map of McMurdo Sound and Ross Island hangs on the wall behind him.

The plan is summarised below:

■ Offload the dogs and the prepared sleds first. Two exploration parties must depart at once, while the other sled teams can be used to move cargo. First order of business is to locate a useful campsite close at hand where a runway can be constructed.

■ Offload and assemble the tractors as soon as possible. These are to be used to move heavy equipment, and also to prepare the runway near the camp.

■ The aircraft are to be moved to the campsite as soon as the tractors are ready. Aircraft assembly follows at once. The remaining cargo can be moved piecemeal, with the camp equipment going first, followed by the food, research tools such as the Pabodie apparatus, and finally the bulk of the aircraft fuel.

■ Once the aircraft are assembled, survey and exploration flights begin. These can work with the surveying sled teams to locate better campsites on the barrier, near the old Miskatonic base, and so on.

The briefing lasts for just over half an hour, at the end of which Moore surveys the assembled explorers, clipboard in hand as ever, and asked, “Ok men, any final questions?”

"So who are in the exploration teams? I suspect that I will be close to the Pabodie drill during the first stages of our expedition?"

"I´ll join the camp prepping team!" John announces and awaits the offloading to begin.

Isugtag nods at Moore and hefts one of the ice axes to indicate how he's going to contribute.

Jack plans to head off with the pilots to get the sort of bird's-eye view that his readers will no doubt eat up. Plus, it'll save some wear and tear on his back, avoiding lifting too many things.

Graves helps in the unloading of the dogs. He realises that the only way to keep warm out here is to keep as busy as possible and volunteers for one of the exploration parties.

"I think that as the the plan was partly mine, I'll would like to lead one of the exploration teams." says Callum "I'd definately like Gunnar and Nils to come along too, if they dont mind..."

"Any one else is welcome to come along with us, of course. I bet you guys could get some amazing shots with your cameras."

James offers to help with the dogs and the sleds - he doesn't mind which team he joins and will just follow whatever orders he is given.

James asks Professon Moore "Do you want me to be in one of the sled teams helping to move the cargo, as I can work with the dogs and have a good idea where a lot of the stuff is with doing the inventories before we departed? although I am happy to do whatever is needed"

Landfall 77°35’S 165°30E – McMurdo Sound, Antarctica
14:00, Tuesday 14th November, 1933

Early that afternoon the SS Gabrielle steams into McMurdo Sound, passing to the west of Mount Bird, the smallest of Ross Island’s three volcanoes. The largest – the constantly smoking Mount Erebus – looms off the port side of the ship as she cautiously approaches the edge of the sea ice. Mount Terror is hidden at the far side of Ross Island.

The region of the Ross Sea between the island and the mainland is still solid with thick sea ice which stands six to eight feet above the surface of the water. The barrier, easily visible even here, rises upwards like a wall, several miles distant across broken ground.

Starkweather is elated. “We have arrived!” he declares. “Captain, anchor the ship. We shall begin our assault from here. Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Antarctica!”

Within an hour the ship is secured to the ice with long mooring lines, the hatch covers on the cargo holds have been removed, and the arduous work of unloading begins. First planks, and later the great ramp, serve as gangways onto the Antarctic ice; both dogs and men press off the ship as fast as they can, eager to be ashore and to see at first hand their strange new world.

The four dog-sleds are the first items lofted ashore by the Gabrielle’s cargo-cranes, their teams of dogs are prepared by Gregor Pulaski and his two assistants. As soon as the sleds are loaded they leave in two teams, as the Gabrielle’s cranes begin to unload the expedition’s caterpillar tractors and other equipment.

The first team of two sleds, led by Callum and Pulaski heads south towards the edge of the Ross Ice Barrier itself some twenty miles inland. Meanwhile the second team, lead by Isugtag and Frodesen head off seeking a good location for the temporary sea camp closer to the shore.

The weather is excellent, a near perfect day late in Antarctica’s Spring, but even so the temperature hovers around 0°F and the stiff coastal breeze increases the danger. Each breath of wind numbs fingers and cheeks and bites deeply into unprotected skin. The thick heavy arctic clothing must be worn at all times.

Everyone outside must remain constantly alert to the dangers of frostbite. Workers learn quickly to examine each others’ faces whenever they meet and to warn one another of pale spots or other signs of freezing flesh.

The view of the desolate continent touches something in Olof's heart. It is so desolate, so beautiful. To be left here alone is to know lonesomeness. A thought strikes him. What if he would die here? What if he would be left somewhere covered with snow and ice? The thought is in some peculiar way comforting. Olof decides to leave this train of thoughts and continues working instead. There is much to do and soon he will see the Pabodie drill in action. He is very eager to see this wonderful machine in action.

"My God, we actually made it," Jack says to no one in particular. Thinking back to the all the craziness that had preceded this moment--the insanity at the dinner, the murder, the dogs, the sliding equipment--he realizes that he's lucky to have made it this far.

Of course, given the war, I was lucky to be anywhere, he reminds himself.

He takes some notes about the view that he takes in, takes a picture or two, and prepares to look for the pilots.

Isugtag, like the rest probably, takes a minute to soak in the environment. Cold, biting wind stings his face, but it's welcome. The minute is short, though, and presently he's busy unloading and getting the sled team together. Now to find a good spot for camp ...

Callum reigns in the first of the two sleds. "Take a quick break everyone. I'm just going to check our postion."

He pulls out the chart and takes a few readings. "By my reckoning, we're somewhere around here." he says to Pulaski. "That would mean we are making pretty good time. What do think Gregor?"

"Yes, we did." Olof answers Jack's question, not realising that the question was rethorical in nature. "It takes your breath doesn't it? To think that this land has been covered by ice for so long." The Swede smiles.

SME Expedition Temporary Sea Camp - McMurdo Sound
14th November, 1933

The first afternoon on the ice passes almost flawlessly, almost everybody slips and slides at first, but gradually the explorers become accustomed to the treacherous surface. There are a few minor injuries (most embarrassingly to the experienced guide Isugtag), but fortunately nobody suffers anything worse than sprains.

Slightly more seriously a few expedition members suffer from exposure, even in these relatively mild conditions, Doctor Greene is kept busy treating minor cases of exposure, and a couple of cases of first degree frostbite. The frostbite victims, Professor Bryce, John Rhyes and Samuel Winslow are all given the ‘all clear’ by Greene, but advised to remain under cover for 24 hours.

A location for the sea camp is quickly located four hundred yards inland, and the assembled caterpillar tractors begin to drag the aeroplane fuselages, wings and engines across from the Gabrielle. Meanwhile John, Isutag, James and Frodesen are busy hauling camp equipment to the site using two of the dog sleds.

Work begins prepping “Scott” the smaller Fairchild aeroplane for flight as soon as it arrives at the Sea Camp site, while another team mark out and prepare a makeshift runway.

Operations will continue around the clock, the sun never sets after all, until the base camp is established on the Barrier Ice, with anyone injured or frostbitten sitting it out until recovered. Starkweather and Moore seem t be everywhere at once, the brash Englishman is delighted to be finally onto the ice, and helps to assemble the temporary campsite, loudly ‘encouraging’ his co-workers in his own unique fashion. His more studious associate Professor Moore prefers to methodically check off each item against his many lists.

The explorers are joined by the local wildlife, big emperor penguins stand in groups of four or five watching the invaders cautiously from the shore, while their smaller Adelie penguin cousins are less wary and walk amongst the explorers, curious to observe these unexpected visitors.

A few Weddell seals bask in the midnight sun, Frodesen is delighted and shoots one with his rifle. He drags it back to the campsite and butchers it messily to feed to his dogs.

“I tell the dogs they have done well!” he explains, holding out a red slab of steaming meat.

“Try some. It is good eating!”

************************************

Atop the Ross Ice Shelf - Thirty One miles SW of the Sea Camp.
00:10 - 15th November, 1933
(Callum, Graves, Pullaski & O.Sørensen)


From thirty miles to the southwest Callum’s team radio back to camp at around ‘midnight’ to say that they have located a good route up onto the barrier ice and will wait there for the other sleds to join them. Back at the Sea Camp, Frodesen immediately begins readying the dogs and the sleds for the operation.

Unloading the SS Gabrielle’s cargo holds will be complete in fifteen hours.

The rather embarrassed sailor John Rhyes agrees with the doctor to stay put at camp while recovering from the mild frostbite. During this time John decides to scrawl the first of the impressions of the Antarctic encounter. While doing so he enjoys the cooking skill of the comrades getting the sick note. Recuperating and gaining strength he decides to be fit for anything the continent can throw at them on the 16th.

McRaven didn't recall much about the fall. He had been standing there taking in the stark beauty of the place. He remembered turning to talk to one of the other pilots...suddenly he's doing the charleston and trying to stay upright...he didn't succeed...the ice came up fast, or more correctly he went down faster than a ringer in rigged fight.

He was carried back to the ship by the other pilots despite his protests, kind of glad for the mask protecting his face, which by this point was burning up quite nicely.

Back in the ship, the doc gave him the once over and declared him lucky. After waiting a while and getting a hot drink, he trudged back out...keen to see the first plane assembled and get first dibs on the first flight...after months on this tub, McRaven needed to fly.

Jack had seen McRaven fall and figured it just as easily--maybe more easily--could've been him. The fact that he'd avoided the falls and the frostbite to date seemed to have less to do with his constitution or polar skills as it did with sheer luck.

Olof avoids Frodesen when he begins to butcher the poor mammal. Olof has no real experience of slaughter and meat handling and the whole thing makes him feel natious. He eats very little at the next meal.

Isugtag watches as Doctor Greene tapes up and tends to his ankle. It's cold out but when he fell, Isugtag's face was bright red and hot. He'd like to think he could blame it on being on that vile ship for so long, but he knows in his heart he just messed up. Best not to start making excuses now. Besides, things need to be done. Can't let something little like this get in his way. Back to work! The ankle doesn't feel too bad thanks to the Doc.

James is overawed by the raw beauty of the Antarctic and wonders how the creatures who inhabit this inhospitable place ever survive. He is, however, a little releived that all seems to be going reasonably well so far and nuckles down to work to keep himself busy and warm.

SME Expedition Temporary Sea Camp – McMurdo Sound.
01:00 - Wednesday 15th November, 1933.

Gunnar Sorensen takes John’s place aboard the sleds. He, James, Frodesen and Isutag depart as soon as the dogs are ready and the sleds loaded – heading south to join Callum’s team atop the Ross Ice Shelf.

06:00 - Wednesday 15th November, 1933.

At around 05:30 the final barrels of fuel for the aircraft are hoisted ashore from the SS Gabrielle. Her work done for now the ship is readied for departure from her perilous mooring at the edge of the ice. Thirty minutes later, the vessel that has been the expedition’s home during the long voyage south raises her anchors and sails towards the open waters of the Ross Sea.

She will remain on station, in the relatively safe waters several miles out to sea until the expedition leaves the icy continent in late January.

Even as the ship sails north, work continues to move all of the equipment and fuel deposited by the Gabrielle, to the more secure ice of the temporary camp. The expedition’s tractors are in continual use ferrying the equipment from shore to camp.

SME Expedition Trail Team - Ross Ice Barrier
11:30 – Wednesday 15th November, 1933

Having been joined by the other two sleds, Callum’s trail team make good progress scouting on the massive Ice Barrier, and soon locate an excellent camp site approximately twenty miles from the barrier’s edge. They radio back to the sea camp at once.


SME Expedition Temporary Sea Camp – McMurdo Sound.
11:45 - Wednesday 15th November, 1933.

Professor Moore crosses the ice from the radio tent, walking briskly towards the team prepping the Fairchild “Scott” for it’s first flight. The professor is still unsure of his footing on the slippery surface, but there is a spring in his step nonetheless. His co-leader Starkweather is right behind him, seemingly much more at ease on the ice.

When he reaches the pilots and engineers clustered around the small aircraft, Moore searches the hooded figures for McRaven. He pulls his scarf down from his mouth to speak, “Excellent news Bill! Callum has just radioed back, they’ve located a suitable site for the base camp!”

“Are you ok to fly? Greene said that your injury wasn’t serious...”

“I thought that you could use this afternoon’s test flight to check out the site for yourself, meet up with Callum’s team on the barrier!”


Meanwhile Starkweather spots Jack, “Ah Jack! Get your camera ready; go and get some damn good photos of the first flight, what!”

McRaven grins at Prof Moore "My pride got more bruised than me, i'm ready to go, get the co-ordinates of the site and I'll get things ready here"

Despite himself, Jack catches some of Starkweather's enthusiasm. "Will do," he says, excited at the prospect of seeing from the air what so few people had seen in the flesh. It would doubtless tax his powers of description in the accompanying articles and captions.

Still and all, he couldn't help feeling just a tinge apprehensive when he watched the ship sail away, even if it was only to a fairly short distance off. While he felt no romantic attachment to the sea or the ship, it had still been security and warmth in a cold clime.

Olof is excited and a bit afraid. Will the plane be ready for the harsh conditions of the Antarctica? Only one way to know and that's to try it...

Callum goes outside to have a look around. Waiting for the others to arrive is a touch boring... But then, the hard bit will begin soon enough... he thinks to himself.

He takes a walk over to where the sled dogs are tied up, just to check them over and make sure they are okay. After petting them, and satisfied that they are well, he heads back to the tent to do some more reading up on the expedition notes.

SME Expedition Temporary Sea Camp - McMurdo Sound
11:45 - Wednesday 15th November, 1933

“Excellent!” Moore shakes McRaven’s hand, “Finally our first flight, there were times when I truly doubted that we would make it this far!”

“Miss Knight will be your co-pilot, Callum’s trail team will be marking the site with an expedition flag, and also marking out the runway. If you fly some essential gear out to them, then they can begin preparing the base camp site before the first tractor arrives.”

Moore also shakes hands with Jack, Olof and Kitt, “Gentlemen, Miss Knight, you are privileged indeed to be aboard our first flight. Good luck and enjoy the view!”

With that, the Professor leaves to find Professor Bryce, the final passenger for this flight. Starkweather sticks around to help out with prepping the Scott, and to offer his “encouragement to the lads.”


SME Expedition Trail Team - “Base Camp” Site - Ross Ice Shelf
11:45 - Wednesday 15th November, 1933

Preparation for the arrival of the Scott begins as soon as Callum finishes on the radio. The site is excellent, and should serve the expedition well. The first flight should take off at around 14:00 so they won’t have to wait around too long.


SME Expedition Temporary Sea Camp - McMurdo Sound
12:35 - Wednesday 15th November, 1933

The SS Gabrielle forwards a news message to the expedition - earlier today Acacia Lexington successfully flew from the Lexington Expedition Base Camp to the South Pole, becoming the first woman to stand at the bottom of the world.

For once Starkweather takes the bad news well, concentrating on helping to prep his own expedition’s first flight, rather than raging about the achievements of his bitter rival.

“Never mind lads, the Lake Camp’s the important one! That and the mountains, the tallest in the world they say!”

SME Expedition Temporary Sea Camp - McMurdo Sound

John listens to the news wire and watches the morale being kept high in camp. "I´ll take a small trip around the shelves here to see if I find something interesting." Keeping just around the temp camp John tries to better his familiarity with the cold climate wearing an extra pair of socks and gloves. "I´ll be bat inside two hours!"

Olof is not so sorry that the Lexington woman came first to the pole, even if it had been fun if Kitt had got that honour. All this competion is just bad according to him. What if the three expeditions would have co-operated instead? Nothing good can come out of this hunt for personal fame and national glory. Didn't the horrors of the Great War teach people anything?

Thoughts like this occupies the engineer's mind as he makes himself ready for his first flight trip ever.

"Well that plane ain't going to get ready by itself"
McRaven shakes hands with the other pilots, then heads over to the fairchild to give it the once over and start pre-flight checks.

SME Temporary Sea Camp - McMurdo Sound
14:00 - Wednesday 15th November, 1933
Characters present: John, Starkweather, Moore, most of the other NPCs

With it’s two pilots and three passengers on board the RF Scott rumbles down the makeshift runway and takes gracefully to the air at precisely 14:00. Everybody stops work to watch and applaud the beginning of the first flight, and fortunately everything goes without a hitch for once.

************************************

Inside the Scott - Above McMurdo Sound
14:01 - Wednesday 15th November, 1933
Characters present: McRaven, Kitt, Jack, Olof and Prof. Bryce.

Professor Bryce is very excited as the small aeroplane climbs smoothly into the sky, he turns away from the window for a second to clap Olof on the back, “Isn’t this wonderful Olof - to see the continent from the air? I have never flown before, it is both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time!”

************************************

SME Base Camp Site - Ross Ice Shelf
14:02 - Wednesday 15th November, 1933
Characters present: Callum, Isugtag, Graves, James, Pulaski, G Sorensen, O Sørensen, Frodesen.

Professor Moore’s voice is a little crackly and distorted, but still clear enough over the trail radio:
<<They’ve taken off now, over... Should be joining you, after a short test flight, over.>>

************************************

OOC: I shall post again today, with the arrival of the Scott at the Base Camp site. I thought that I should give you all chance to post first though!
BTW: Steerpike, if you read this please make a skill roll to land. This won’t be necessary for every flight, but until the tractors get up to the site of the Base Camp, the ‘runway’ is just a nice patch of ice.

The take off had gone off without a hitch and they were soon in the air. McRaven smiled broadly, he felt liberated after days cooped up on the boat. It was almost as if he was on his first solo flight again, with a tremendous sensation of power and freedom running through him. They flew above the area of the 1st camp, crossing over the short distance to the new base camp; short that is, by plane at least, as the magnificent scene of pure natural beauty unfolded before them.

The fairchild was soon passing over the camp, its rotary engine grumbling as McRaven did a slow circle around it.

"Nows the time to get some good snaps Jack"

He then guides the aircraft into its final approach and shouts out to the passengers.

"This is going to a get tad bumpy, folks but don't worry I've been through worse"

He then concentrates on the landing ahead, watching the dials and speed, waiting for the first jolt of impact and throttling back. Clouds of snow and ice are thrown up as the fairchild skis down the "airstrip". The plane rattles and shakes as it hits every contour and lump of ice, but the plane can take it and McRaven waits for the speed to trail off enough to allow him to turn round facing back the way they had come. They had arrived.

After having witnessed the successful take off and feeling finished with the day´s preparations John retreats and reads up on the previous expedition of the Miscatonic U.

SME Expedition Base Camp site - Ross Ice Shelf

McRaven lands the Scott lands successfully and eventually the small aeroplane rolls to a halt close to where Callum and the rest of the Trail Team stand waiting.

"Top-notch flying, sir!" Jack exudes, only half-jestingly. He'd hoped that his photographs would come out looking as dramatic as what he himself saw from such a height. These sorts of pictures, if done right, could really make a man's career--or re-make a somewhat disreputable one.

"Congratulations, that's a relief to have that one over & done with, here's to many more sucessful flights"

James has been fortunate enough to have been on a flight or too over the years but is still very excited by this achievement.

"It was indeed both terrifying and beautiful". Olof wonders how Stockholm would look from the air. Perhaps there would be money in photographs taken from the air? Perhaps as postcards?

Within a day the Fairchild’s first successful flight, both Boeings are also operational and the move to the expedition’s base camp begins in earnest. The heaviest equipment needs to be hauled up Callum’s route onto the ice-shelf by the expedition’s caterpillar tractors, but most lighter items can be accommodated on-board the big Boeings.

Most of the cargo that was deposited on the shore by the Gabrielle has now been shifted up to the temporary sea camp at least, only about half of the fuel drums remain on the shore now, and a small team are still working around the clock to move them up to the airstrip. Everything else is either stockpiled at the temporary camp, or is joining the gear at the base camp site, where Nils Sorensen and his younger brother direct the efforts to assemble the base’s wooden huts at the side of the makeshift airstrip.

Olof helps whereever he is needed, although he is careful to never be far away from the Peabody device. He has thus far not seen it in action and he would not see it broken when it has come this far.

Jack tries to keep busy and to stay out of the way at the same time. In the meantime, he writes and relays some stories about progress on the ice.

SME Temporary Sea Camp, McMurdo Sound, Antarctica
Thursday November 16th, 1933

The next few days are filled with the sound of aircraft engines. The Enderby takes to the air on the morning of November 16th, followed shortly by the Weddell. Meanwhile the smaller RF Scott continues to make mapping flights along the Ross Sea shore and mountains of the barrier’s western edge, while the two Boeings begin the methodical process of airlifting the expedition to its new home forty miles away. The airlift is expected to take six days in total.

“We mast move the base,” Professor Moore explains to the curious. “Within a month, the sea ice on which we now stand will break up and float away; we must be atop the barrier by then. When we leave, in three months time, we shall load directly from the barrier itself, a feat which in currently too dangerous to attempt.”

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Each of the Boeings makes five trips on the 16th, and six on the day after. By the afternoon of November the seventeenth, the expedition’s permanent base camp in well established on the smooth ice of the Ross Ice Shelf.

More than half of the explorers, including all of the sled teams, are now at the Base Camp; the two tractors and half a dozen men remain on the sea ice at the temporary camp to load the aircraft as they arrive.

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SME Temporary Sea Camp, McMurdo Sound, Antarctica
Saturday November 18th, 1933

At 10:40 am on November the eighteenth, Nature forces a change in the plans. A great crack opens in the ice not far from the sea camp, running more than a hundred yards inland from the shore with a deep rippling pop. Two hours later, it lengthens further, and two other huge fissures appear, spearing inland from the open sea. One seems to be aimed directly at the expedition’s sea camp; the other threatens to cut the remaining supplies off from the safety of the runway. The sea ice is breaking up early - and the expedition is not yet fully prepared.

A hurried radio message informs the aircraft and the Base Camp of the trouble and all hands are roused to save the precious equipment and fuel. The next several hours are a race against time, as the cracks is the ice multiply and move inexorably inward toward the sea camp.

Load after load of food, supplies, and gasoline drums are dragged island and stacked by the runway. With each new trip, the explorers pray harder that this will not he the last. The aeroplanes load, unload, and turn around as fast as they can, but a large amount of cargo still remains at risk!


The SS Gabrielle steams back westward to help, but she is far away and cannot possibly reach the shore before the next morning.

A new fissure opens up inland of the seaside cache at three o’clock that afternoon, directly in front of one of the racing tractors. The tractor crew must watch in horror as open water yawns before them and the icy surface tips to one side. The tractor and it’s crew survive, but thirty drums of fuel and more than a ton of pemmican slide quietly into the water and are gone forever.

The airlift continues for another three hours, but it is clear that the end is near.
The two tractors are attached to short trains of heavy pallets and instructed to head overland toward the barrier along the dog sled trail. All the remaining men and women at the sea camp are ordered to accompany the tractors—there is no way to take them in the planes.

Is the face of rising winds and oncoming storm clouds, the two aircraft make one more trip, and then a second. Shortly after 6 p.m., Kitt Knght, piloting the Weddell, reports that a fissure has appeared across the runway itself, making it impossible to land at the sea camp. She aborts her flight and returns to the Base Camp; the Enderby, preparing for her next flight, does not even leave the ground. The remaining ten tons of aircraft fuel are abandoned to the sea.

In all, the breaking of the ice costs the expedition dear, with over a quarter of it’s aviation fuel 140 drums of aviation fuel lost to the sea. It is a bitter blow.

The tractor party struggles all night through lowering temperatures and blowing snow. They arrive, exhausted but safe, shortly before noon the following day. A roughening sea, and the increasing shelving of ice from the barrier, forces Captain Vredenburg to give up his rescue plans and withdraw the Gabrielle from shore.

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SME Expedition Base Camp, Ross Ice Shelf, Antarctica
Sunday November 19th, 1933

November the nineteenth is blustery, with falling snow and poor visibility. The aircraft are tied securely within their makeshift shelters. There is barely enough room for the entire expedition in the buildings erected so far, and the loss of the extra fuel casts a pall upon the party, but everyone is safe and sound upon the ice.

Professor Moore has spent several hours in conference with Captain Starkweather, and the expedition pilots, going over the logistical plans. After much debate it is felt that there is still enough fuel remaining to complete the expedition, although the number of planned flights to explore the mighty Miskotonic Mountains themselves may have to be reduced.

Work continues to improve the facilities at the Base Camp, meanwhile preparations are made to sent a three sled party 250 miles overland, to establish an emergency fuel cache half way to the site of Professor Lake’s ill fated 1931 campsite at the foot of the Miskatonic Mountains.

Despite its losses the expedition is at last ready to begin its mission of discovery.

"In the light of our misfortune, I say we try to get on our way to relocate the camp further inland. I´ll gladly take point to make sure our path is secure. Let us stay together in pairs or threes as there could be pit falls and ravines anywhere. The safety ropes will surely save anyones life!" John gets his hopes up for getting on his way to some proper ice trekking.

Moore attempts to allay John’s concerns, “Oh I wouldn’t worry about that old chap, we’re forty miles inland already and there’s about a thousand feet of ice under your feet Mr Rhyes. This Base Camp is quite safe; it would required something truly cataclysmic to fracture the ice here.”

“Still if you fancy a trip outside, perhaps you could join the overland expedition to establish the fuel cache?”

"I think I´ll do just that!" John gears up and joins the overland expedition.

Jack knew how to play up the last-minute salvage operation as a heroic endeavor of human fortitude against the bitter ravages of nature. His readers, not to mention his editor, would lap that up like newborn kittens. Privately, though, he was concerned. While not a believer in bad luck per se, he still couldn't shake the feeling that the expedition, from its inception, had been snakebit.

He decides to go try to seek out Kitt at the earliest opportunity to get some sense from her about the real fuel situation. Jack didn't doubt that he was basically hearing the "truth" already, but he also knew the pilots hadn't alll agreed on what to do or how bad the situation was. Asking Moore or Starkweather wasn't going to be much help in that regard; both men had too much invested in this operation succeeding.

"You can count me in for that trek Professor" Callum says to Moore on hearing his talk with John. "Unless you have something else in mind for me?"

Isugtag, downhearted by the latest misfortune, is eager to be put to work again. Sitting still doesn't suit him well and the prospect of trekking across the ice actually holds quite a lot of interest to him. The cold biting air is a welcome experience. He heads over and indicates to Moore that he'd like to be a part of the overland expedition.

The loss of the fuel was a major blow, but Bill can't let this distract him from his main task until the cache is set-up. He works with the air-crew to perform vital maintenance of the aircraft. Making sure the de-icing shoes on the wings are working, running the engines at set times to prevent ice building up in the engines. De-icing the propellers...its long and hard work, the alternative...wings caked in ice and unable to provide lift or damage to the propellors could spell disaster. He tries to dismiss this from his mind as he mixes some heated glycol and water.

"I'd like to follow that expediton as well if you don't think I'm better suited elsewhere" Olof tells Professor Moore. The engineer is troubled by this latest setback and his inability to be of much use in these matters. To be able to lend a helping hand is what Olof believes he would need now.