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

Albatros right in to the wreck, which lay on a rock ledge at the foot of high cliffs, in
a small bay. Three masts stuck up out of the water and the bows were still
showing. Behind were several caves, in one of which the survivors had spent the
night, and a ship's life-boat lying on the rocks emphasized the calamity. Behind,
the cliffs rose rugged and steep for several hundred feet.
It was calm in there, but as soon as we headed out again past Cape Constance
the wind increased and we were soon pitching heavily. Visibility dropped to zero
and I went below again and when I next went on deck we were cruising off Cape
Crew, which was just visible through the blizzard. After waiting awhile to see
whether the weather would clear, we headed for Prince Olaf Harbour. I had a cup
of coffee and went up to join the ‘funnel parliament’; this was the warmest place
on the ship and everyone gathered there except the Captain. I had a chat with a
Pole who was peeling potatoes; he had lived two years in Britain at Chester and
Aberdeen, after the war, before moving to the Argentine.
Soon the light of Prince Olaf Harbour entrance was to port and then, through
driving snow, we saw the buildings of the whaling station now disused, with a
Leith Harbour catcher tied up alongside the quay. As the harbour belonged to
Salvesens now, we passed it and went into the inner arm of the fjord and anchored
there. It was still snowing heavily. In the saloon aft we had the radio tuned to
Oslo Radio and listened to Norwegian music. Supper was at 6.30 pm, delicious
pork chops, and afterwards I read in the tiny wardroom, sitting on slippery leather
seats. The wind was very violent and it was necessary to put out a second anchor.
At times the ship would heel over violently as the wind, veering, caught her beam
on. That evening went by in the galley drinking coffee and talking about politics
and economics with one of the Poles and a Norwegian until late. The Pole was
anxious to return to Poland, but felt that, while the Russians were there, it was not
worth living in his country. I heated a bucket of water using the steam pipe and
had a shave and wash on deck before turning in. (Facilities were primitive; the loo
was an open shelter over the side of the deck). It was colder and the snow froze
on the decks, while the wind screamed incessantly.
The only problem at night below was that it was too warm, but outside in the
morning it was colder and the wind as strong as ever. Washing with a bucket on
deck was chilly, but refreshing. We had porridge, whale-blood sausage, and
bread. Then we listened to the catchers talking with Leith Harbour and Grytviken
over the radio – we could receive but not transmit. The weather was still too bad
and so Albatros remained snug in harbour, hoping for a change next day. Lunch
was a rather good roast beef and vegetables, followed by the Norwegian 'jellied
fruit'. Everyone went to his bunk afterwards and I read until 3 o’clock, when the
Second Mate came to ask if I would like to go ashore. After some trouble starting
the engine of the motor boat, several of us piled in and chugged inshore to the old
whaling station. There were two whale-catchers there, the Stora and Southern
Gambler, both Salvesen’s boats, from Leith. We tied up alongside Gambler and
crossed the jetty, through four inches of snow fallen during the night, which hid
much of the unsightly litter of the ruined old buildings. We pottered about among
the flapping rusty corrugated-iron, trying winches, tapping digesters, in a
professional sort of way as we went along. The engineer, who went on ahead, had
worked at this station before it closed in l931; it now belonged to Salvesen
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