Part I: Seals teeth and whales ears - Scott Polar Research Institute ...

on the rocks. We launched the dinghy and rowed out to him. I chucked the
grapnel anchor overboard, without much faith in it, but it held. We tinkered with
the engine, localized the trouble as a blockage in the petrol intake, and soon had
the engine going again. Ian headed back to King Edward Point and we continued
the seal count to the east.
On this side the beaches stretched some four or five miles, as far as the
Nordenskjold Glacier, but we went along only a mile or so, to where distinctive
rocks formed a convenient limit to a counting area. The beach was composed of
large boulders, laid down by the glacier, and was exposed to the swell, so few seal
were hauled out along it. We returned through the tussac, after spending some
time studying the crevasses of the glacier. This is the biggest glacier on South
Georgia and extremely heavily crevassed.
The flat land around Dartmouth Point was obviously a raised beach, about
twelve feet above the present sea level and composed of glacial mud, with a series
of terminal and lateral moraines on its surface. The weather cleared a little and we
had glimpses of Sugartop and Mount Paget shining above the clouds; it was a
magical place. When we returned to the boat, about 3.30 pm, we shot a small cow
and spent some 40 mins over the post-mortem. Later we launched the dinghy and
rowed out through the line of rocks, choosing a time when the surf appeared to be
less. We had covered about a third of the way home when Stella appeared and
took us in tow.
In this fashion I had been spending my time, when at the end of March, as
Arthur and I were about to set out for Hestesletten again, Captain Karlsen came
over to tell me that I could go on the sealer Albatros to the west coast, leaving at 11
o’clock. It was a dull morning with much new snow on the hills and cloud down
to about two hundred feet. He sent a boat over at 10.30 am to collect me and I had
a rush to get all my kit together in time. I introduced myself to Captain Hauge
and installed myself in the chart room below the bridge, where I was to sleep on
the floor. We slipped away from the jetty and out past King Edward Point
towards the open sea. The swell increased, but it wasn't yet necessary to put the
fiddles on the table for lunch. It was an excellent meal: rice soup, whale-sausage,
potatoes and onions, followed by chocolate blancmange. Everything was spotless,
the cabin white-painted and a red checked cloth on the table.
As I came up from lunch Maiviken was just behind us and soon we were
abreast of Jason Point (pronounced ‘Yahsen’). Then along the rugged coast, past
Stromness Bay and the smoke of Leith Harbour, Fortuna Bay, and the high and
heavily crevassed Fortuna Glacier, which was very conspicuous from the sea. All
along this coast were traces of a raised beach, about thirty to forty feet above the
present sea level. We could see little of the coast after leaving Fortuna Bay, for the
wind increased to gale force and the light snow developed into a blizzard. I went
below and was chatting with the crew when Captain Hauge came down and
asked if I would like to see the wreck of the Ernesto Tornquist, a former supply ship
for Pesca, which lay about 200 yards east of Cape Constance. A 6,620 ton ship 138
metres long, she had run aground the previous year, during a gale and blinding
snowstorm. Fortunately crew and passengers, some 260 people, were rescued,
mostly by Petrel. I followed him up to the tiny open bridge and he took the
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