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

inspected the landing place to ascertain that it was in reasonable condition. Next
we knew Minna was gone - without a signal, after spending only 15 minutes in the
bay. We thought she must be taking a turn around the island, but she didn't
reappear. Morton went up to the ridge and returned to say that Minna was
heading South fast! We couldn't believe him.
All of us were very disappointed, especially as the sea conditions continued to
improve all day. It was flat calm at the landing place, better than when we landed.
We tried to contact Minna twice by radio but with no luck. Captain Murray came
in for some hard words. If he had lowered a boat or waited an hour or so we
would have felt better. Certainly we felt badly let down. We had a schedule with
the Butt and Minna spoke to us. Captain Murray hadn't much to say; he said the
swell had been too much. He didn't know when we would be taken off, but Brenda
would be up some time next week. We were all disgusted with the man. I sent a
message via Archie to Maureen.
Then we had to set about setting up home again. Having torn up our roots, it
took us most of the day and we were all quite tired, but went for a walk in the
afternoon. Up to the top of Toa Rona, along the South coast, across to the Pap and
down to the fank, then back. I cooked supper of Irish stew, potatoes and onions.
Early to bed.
A fine morning followed, but the wind was northerly and there were heavy
seas. We got up late and had breakfast at 9 o’clock. I went out, to see a boat
approaching, which turned out to be a French lobster fisherman with a crew of 7-9,
the colours dark and light green, registration CM3093. He came in close, to within
50 yards of the coast and began to sow his pots.
We went over about noon for a radio schedule with the Butt and Captain
Mackinnon of the Brenda. He was in the area and sought a daily weather forecast.
He would get us off as soon as he could. We all felt much better for the news. In
the afternoon we did a census of living pups. Jim and I counted Fianuis North and
Sceapul, where there were only 324 in all. Morton and Malcolm did Fianuis South
(287) and Fianuis Central (330), making 941 altogether. This total excluded dead
pups so was not strictly comparable with the other counts. There were heavy seas
on the eastern shores, with huge breakers crashing on the rocks. The Frenchman
came round the corner, pitching very badly - and quickly turned back. He was
anchored under the cliffs on the South coast overnight.
We were all tired in the evening and on restricted rations - soup, month-old
bread (the baps still remarkably good) and creachans. We were all a bit subdued
as the uncertainty continued, since we had finished our work, the weather was
deteriorating as we ran into November, and the novelty of our situation had
definitely worn off. Some of us were more resilient than others. Malcolm was very
melancholy and used to sit on a rock looking out to the Scottish mainland - about
45 miles away, for long periods. We did our best to cheer him up.
The next two days passed slowly, but eventually the weather and sea state was
adequate for our relief and the Brenda came for us on 7 November. Captain
McKinnon was a very determined man. Conditions on that day were hopeless at
the usual landings, but he suggested the south side of the island, where the swell
was less. This meant that we had to carry all our gear back again over the hill, but
he sent 14 men ashore to help us so it was possible - although it took 4 hours of
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