real bonus. Strong and capable, with an unhurried manner and a slow, laconic Irish wit when he was of a mind to display it, he exuded a natural confidence. ‘I wish I could have a whole crew of Creans,’ he said out loud.
‘I think—’ Wilson stopped and went back to shading the teeth of Wolf.
‘Go on, doctor.’
‘One could tire of the navy’s ways. If one weren’t navy.’
‘Have you been talking with Shackleton?’
‘Only about Swinburne. No, because I am a civilian the men occasionally talk in front of me. Some of them expressed concern about the duty roster.’ Scott doubted they had expressed ‘concern’; they would have carped and cursed about his insistence on strict routine. ‘And about why they haven’t been given a clear idea of your plans. If you intend to overwinter Discovery or leave a shore party and return the ship to Lyttleton.’
Scott turned and looked out to sea, hoping to quell his irritation before he spoke again. The sky had become brighter as they moved south, yet paler; it was a very delicate blue now. The sea, after some fierce troughs that had tested the inclinometer and the ship’s loading, had grown oily and sluggish around them, presaging the appearance of sea ice. The previous day the air temperature had dropped enough to encourage the formation of ice-webs on the rigging. He would have to watch that. Despite what Shackleton assured him were his best efforts, the holds refused to offer any more space for provisions, coal and kerosene, so the surplus had been lashed on deck with the prefabricated huts that would form their base on the ice. Discovery was top-heavy. She’d survived a couple of bad rolls and vast depressions the size of slate quarries in the sea, but ice accretion might just be enough to tip her over. And, although they had wasted all that precious time dry-docking, she still leaked.
As he stared at the ocean, a whale fluked in the distance, the black tail hovering in the air for a few seconds before smoothly sliding away. At night they heard the huge animals hissing and squeaking, a combination of other-worldly sounds that unnerved some of the men. A new century and the thought of sirens could still infect the hardiest of sailors.
Scott turned back to Wilson, prompting more barking from the infernal dogs and a terrified response from the tethered sheep. ‘Every man on this ship is wondering how I will fare on the ice. Including you.’ He raised a hand to quash an interruption. Wilson was the only person he would dare share these thoughts with. ‘I don’t blame them. I would too. What you don’t want is a leader who vacillates. Nor do you want one who allows the men too much idle time. So my orders are direct and unmistakable. And they will know my intentions when I am ready to tell them.’
Wilson looked at him with a very direct gaze. ‘You’re a little scared, I think, Con.’
To Wilson’s surprise, Scott found this most amusing. ‘If I wasn’t a little apprehensive, I’d be more than a little foolish, don’t you think?’
‘Berg!’
It was Able Seaman Dell up in the crow’s nest, his deep, resonant voice carrying above the snarling dogs and the querulous sheep and the thump of the engines. ‘Iceberg, starboard side!’
Scott’s face broke into a smile as Wilson leapt to his feet and the dogs threw themselves against their chains in a frenzy. Ice. It had begun.
‘There, I see it,’ said Wilson.
‘Mr Royds!’ Scott yelled, his breath rolling out clouds into the chill air. When the junior officer appeared Scott shocked him by saying: ‘New Year’s Day and our first iceberg. Get the galley to make up a rum punch ration for all hands.’
It wasn’t a huge berg, a tabular with steep sides and a flat top and less than fifty feet high. But it was impressive enough to get every man up top for a good look as they steamed past it at a safe distance. The surface was a hard, translucent white, stippled with patches of trapped air bubbles
‘I think—’ Wilson stopped and went back to shading the teeth of Wolf.
‘Go on, doctor.’
‘One could tire of the navy’s ways. If one weren’t navy.’
‘Have you been talking with Shackleton?’
‘Only about Swinburne. No, because I am a civilian the men occasionally talk in front of me. Some of them expressed concern about the duty roster.’ Scott doubted they had expressed ‘concern’; they would have carped and cursed about his insistence on strict routine. ‘And about why they haven’t been given a clear idea of your plans. If you intend to overwinter Discovery or leave a shore party and return the ship to Lyttleton.’
Scott turned and looked out to sea, hoping to quell his irritation before he spoke again. The sky had become brighter as they moved south, yet paler; it was a very delicate blue now. The sea, after some fierce troughs that had tested the inclinometer and the ship’s loading, had grown oily and sluggish around them, presaging the appearance of sea ice. The previous day the air temperature had dropped enough to encourage the formation of ice-webs on the rigging. He would have to watch that. Despite what Shackleton assured him were his best efforts, the holds refused to offer any more space for provisions, coal and kerosene, so the surplus had been lashed on deck with the prefabricated huts that would form their base on the ice. Discovery was top-heavy. She’d survived a couple of bad rolls and vast depressions the size of slate quarries in the sea, but ice accretion might just be enough to tip her over. And, although they had wasted all that precious time dry-docking, she still leaked.
As he stared at the ocean, a whale fluked in the distance, the black tail hovering in the air for a few seconds before smoothly sliding away. At night they heard the huge animals hissing and squeaking, a combination of other-worldly sounds that unnerved some of the men. A new century and the thought of sirens could still infect the hardiest of sailors.
Scott turned back to Wilson, prompting more barking from the infernal dogs and a terrified response from the tethered sheep. ‘Every man on this ship is wondering how I will fare on the ice. Including you.’ He raised a hand to quash an interruption. Wilson was the only person he would dare share these thoughts with. ‘I don’t blame them. I would too. What you don’t want is a leader who vacillates. Nor do you want one who allows the men too much idle time. So my orders are direct and unmistakable. And they will know my intentions when I am ready to tell them.’
Wilson looked at him with a very direct gaze. ‘You’re a little scared, I think, Con.’
To Wilson’s surprise, Scott found this most amusing. ‘If I wasn’t a little apprehensive, I’d be more than a little foolish, don’t you think?’
‘Berg!’
It was Able Seaman Dell up in the crow’s nest, his deep, resonant voice carrying above the snarling dogs and the querulous sheep and the thump of the engines. ‘Iceberg, starboard side!’
Scott’s face broke into a smile as Wilson leapt to his feet and the dogs threw themselves against their chains in a frenzy. Ice. It had begun.
‘There, I see it,’ said Wilson.
‘Mr Royds!’ Scott yelled, his breath rolling out clouds into the chill air. When the junior officer appeared Scott shocked him by saying: ‘New Year’s Day and our first iceberg. Get the galley to make up a rum punch ration for all hands.’
It wasn’t a huge berg, a tabular with steep sides and a flat top and less than fifty feet high. But it was impressive enough to get every man up top for a good look as they steamed past it at a safe distance. The surface was a hard, translucent white, stippled with patches of trapped air bubbles
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