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

long low black cloud on the horizon - the hillocks and mountains of the land were
silhouetted against the crimson sky. I was just in my dressing gown and pajamas and
stood there until the cold drove me in.
Another fine day on deck I collected a mass of material including a thyroid gland
(about 2 yards long!) and parathyroids for a surgeon in London; I was feeling rather
pleased with myself because the scientists last year couldn't find it! (Doing a postmortem
on a whale is out of the ordinary; I think my earlier labours on elephant seals
had been a good introduction). The work was going well. Now there were hundreds
of Antarctic petrels around the ship, feeding on the offal and refuse that was thrown
overboard. They were very greedy and very fat. The crew amused themselves by
tying a piece of blubber at each end of a bit of string and then two birds had a tug of
war!
On 11 February we were still off Enderby Land in the middle of the most terrific
gale - force 11 or 12 (56 to >65 mph) on the Beaufort Scale. Fortunately we were
surrounded by ice packs which prevented the seas getting too rough, but even so
Balaena had been rolling very heavily. The sea outside was flecked with long straight
lines of white foam and the wind was causing the 8m (25 ft) waves to break like the
rollers at the Guincho (on the Atlantic coast of Portugal). The spray was carried on
the wind, so that it was difficult even to breathe on deck! During the morning most
of the breakable things in the cabin and in the lab. broke, so I was not worrying
anymore! But it was rather uncomfortable and tiring as one had to hold onto
anything handy to remain in place. If I stood up on the mat or sat in the easy chair in
my cabin, they sailed backwards and forwards at each roll.
The engineers had to close down the factory machinery so as to get enough steam
for engine-power to keep the ship from hitting icebergs and we managed to find
shelter in a gap in the pack ice which smoothed the swell. Apart from the wind
howling outside it would soon be so steady that it might feel quite calm. That night
was film night and I was going to read for half and hour and then join the others.
16 February was a wonderful day. The mail arrived on Powell during the
afternoon and when I went along to supper at 6 o’clock there was a big pile of letters
by my plate and most importantly seven from Maureen. Then I must have dozed a
little because at 1.15 am the light went on and one of the sick bay attendants wanted
to know if I'd give them some of my blood for an operation, so I put on my dressing
gown and toddled over to the hospital. A man had been working in the steering flat
of one of the catchers (Setter1) and still inside the guard rail. The gunner suddenly
began chasing a whale, twisting and turning of course, and when the wheel was put
hard over, the heavy metal quadrant (which engages cogs and turns the rudder)
caught the man, who was kneeling, and pinned him to the wall for a moment. His
pelvis was crushed and he was in a very bad way by the time he was brought
aboard. The Danish doctor from Bransfield (the meat freezer ship with the expedition)
came over and the two doctors decided to operate. There was a lot of internal
damage and they had to amputate a leg. In fact the man's injuries were so serious
that he didn’t survive. It was a terrible business. Of course I was only too glad to
help, and I was able to make up for lost sleep the next day. Otherwise the day had
been uneventful for me, but we watched a film about Lady Godiva - which made it a
little more eventful, if vicarious. What a strange choice of film to show on a whaling
ship, apart from the nudity of course!
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