Death of Endurance
Great blocks of ice weighing many tons were lifted into the air and tossed aside as other masses rose beneath them. We were helpless intruders in a strange world, our lives dependent upon the play of grim forces which made a mockery of our puny efforts. I scarcely dared hope now that Endurance would live and throughout that anxious day I reviewed again the plans laid long before for the sledging journey we must make in the event of our having to take to the ice. We were ready, as far as forethought could make us, for every contingency. Stores, dogs, sledges and equipment were ready to be moved from the ship at a moment’s notice.
The following day brought bright, clear weather, with a blue sky. The sunshine was inspiriting. The roar of pressure could suffered some strains at intervals. Listening below, I could hear the creaking and groaning of her timbers, the pistol-like cracks that told of the starting of a trenail or plank, and the faint, indescribable whispers of our ship’s distress. Overhead the sun shone serenely; occasional fleecy clouds drifted before the southerly breeze, and the light glinted and sparkled on the million facets of the new pressure ridges. The day passed slowly. At 7 p.m. very heavy pressure developed, with twisting strains that racked the ship fore-and-aft. The butts of planking were opened four and five inches on the starboard side, and at the same time we could see from the bridge that the ship was bending like a bow under titanic pressure. Almost like a living creature, she resisted the forces that would crush her; but it was a one-sided battle.
