Mixed Fortunes by Wendy Staples
The dishes have been cleared away to the kitchen, the presents have been opened and as on every Christmas Eve that they can recollect in their short lives, the three children are seated on the rug at Grandpa Jonas’ feet, waiting for him to tell them a story. The candles are casting flickering shadows across the upturned faces and a faint clattering noise can be heard as their mother, Sissel, starts the washing up, whilst Father has gone off to his study, with its wide picture window overlooking the harbour and the twinkling lights of the town of Sandefjord below, and settles down to listen to the radio.
“Can we have a ghost story, Grandpa?” asks Knut, knowing that the answer will be “No!” Little Hanne is too young yet for anything frightening, although she likes the idea of hiding all the brooms in the house to stop the witches coming in at Christmas, but he likes to think that at nine years old he’s big and brave enough and wants his sister to appreciate his seniority. He’s known for two years that it’s Grandpa Jonas who dresses as Julenisse to give out the presents, but Hanne is only four and still believes. He’s not sure about his brother, Frode. He’s three years younger, but sometimes seems much older and doesn’t often confide in his brother.
Grandpa gives him a little shake of the head and relaxes into the comfortable cushions of his armchair, before taking a sip of his glass of Aquavit and clearing his throat ready to begin.
“I shall tell you a story about an amazing journey. It is true, but you may find it hard to believe.” He takes another sip and wipes his mouth with a large green handkerchief. “When I was a young man I worked down there in the shipyard,” he motions with his hand towards the window. “and we’d been constructing a new ship for a company which was going to be offering polar tours, but once she was finished they couldn’t afford to pay for her. She was magnificent. Every timber had been carefully chosen to fit the curve of the hull and each one was a single oak tree. She was forty four metres long, with three masts and a coal fired steam engine that could generate speeds of ten knots. The whole thing was built entirely of oak and good Norwegian fir and we knew she was quite capable of ploughing through pack ice. Then, luckily for us, after all our hard labour, another buyer was found. His name was Ernest Shackleton and he was planning to sail to Antarctica and then trek right across the continent to the other side.”
“Through all the snow?” Hanne queries, her head tipped to one side so that a stray blonde curl falls over one eye.
“That was the plan,” Grandpa nods. “but things didn’t quite work out that way.”
“Where did he come from?” Frode wants to know. He is anxious to get his facts straight before the adventure begins.
“He was Irish and English. And he got a bargain too. She was sold at a loss.” He pauses for a moment, looking thoughtful. “And he named the ship ‘Endurance’.”
“A good name for a strong ship.” pipes up Knut.
“Mm… maybe.” Grandpa takes another sip and continues. “The ship sailed from here to Plymouth in England and then across the Atlantic to Buenos Aires, where Shackleton had been assembling his crew and all his stores for the journey. Then shortly before Christmas, they headed south to Grytviken, a whaling station on South Georgia, and this was just as the Great War started.”
“Had it started snowing?” Hanne asks.
Grandpa smiles down at her. “Not in December. You see, this was the bottom of the world where they have summer in December and although there is still snow where they were going, a lot of it has melted at that time of year. They headed for the Weddell Sea and were intending to land in Vahsel Bay, but the pack ice slowed them down and was gradually getting thicker. They even tried climbing down onto the ice with picks and shovels to free up a passage, but it was useless.”
“So was the ship stuck?” Frode queries.
“Stuck fast. All they could do now was wait for the ice to melt a bit, but it was ten months before anything happened.” The children lean forward eagerly. Hanne is expecting a good fairy to wave a magic wand to set them free, while Frode and Knut are each imagining battles with wild animals and armour clad heroes coming to the rescue. “One morning, one of the crew was down below and noticed water coming in through a crack in the hull at the stern. Immediately they set to work to pump out the water, taking it in turns as each one became exhausted, but as fast as they worked, the water was pouring in faster and the hole was getting bigger. Shackleton finally ordered the men to abandon ship and set up camp on the ice.” Jonas closes his eyes for a moment, his thoughts straying to harsh winters spent at a whaling station on the east coast of Iceland after he left the shipyard, lying awake at night with the Arctic wind howling like a demon and the unstoppable sound of the ice; grinding, crunching, cracking and devouring all in its path.
“For almost a month the crew lived on the ice, in freezing conditions and with food in limited supply, hoping that the ice would somehow melt and free the ship. But it soon became clear that the damage was too great to hope to re float her. The movement of the ice floes had pushed up the stern, causing the water to rush forward and tip the bow under the ice and the pressure on all sides was gradually crushing her port and starboard planks inwards until she finally slipped under the ice, bow first.”
“Who came to rescue them then?” Knut asks. “They couldn’t stay on the ice, could they?”
“Nobody came. No one knew they were in trouble. But they lived on the ice for months and months while it was gradually floating northwards until it finally started to break up and they were able to launch the lifeboats they had salvaged from ‘Endurance’. It took them almost a week to reach land, a barren hunk of rock called Elephant Island.”
“Were elephants living there?” asks Hanne hopefully.
“Don’t be silly,” Knut sniggers. “elephants only live in the jungle!”
Grandpa pats her head comfortingly and pulls out his pipe, which he fills carefully and lights with a spill from the open fire. “Shackleton knew that their only hope was to try to send for a rescue party themselves, so they set to work reinforcing one of the lifeboats and with five other men he set off to try to land on South Georgia, which was 1300 kilometres away. The twenty two men left behind had no idea if help would ever reach them. They managed to kill a few penguins and seals and had already had to kill their sled dogs for food. They patched up a shelter from the two remaining lifeboats and used seal blubber to make lamps for light and cooking.” He pauses for a moment. “You see, at that time of year there are not many hours of daylight and that means it gets even colder.”
Frode is looking impatient. “What happened to the men who sailed off to get help, Grandpa?”
“It took them sixteen days, battling mountainous waves through the stormy seas of the South Atlantic Ocean and having to chip ice from the mast and rigging, before they finally made landfall, but because the weather was so bad they were forced to land on the side of the island where there were no people. They were so exhausted that they had to make a camp and rest for several days, and three of the men were too ill to carry on, so Shackleton and the two others trekked across the island to the whaling station. They had no skis to make it easier to get along so they pushed nails into the soles of their boots to stop them slipping.”
“Did they find help when they got there?” Knut asks, eager now to hear the end of the story.
“Yes they did. A boat was sent to pick up the three men from the south of the island and another ship was chartered to go back to Elephant Island, but that couldn’t get through the ice either. Another set off and was also unable to reach the stranded crew, but finally a ship from Chile was successful and rescued all the men, but they had waited over four months and were very lucky to survive.”
“So why didn’t the ‘Endurance’ stand up to the ice, Grandpa? Was it your fault, because you helped to make her?” Frode wants all the facts.
“Not at all.” Jonas is still embittered by the suggestion that the ship’s construction was of poor quality. “It was Shackleton’s fault.“
“But he was a very brave man and his crew only survived because of his skill and bravery.” Knut objected.
“It was nothing to do with that.” Grandpa takes a long and meaningful draw on his pipe. It’s bad luck to change the name of a ship. When she was first launched she was named ‘Polaris’. Changing it to ‘Endurance’ was always going to bring disaster.”
