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Another Antarctic Winter

EXPLORER DOUGLAS MAWSON WAS STRANDED ON THE ANTARCTIC ICE WHEN HIS COLLEAGUE FELL INTO A CREVASSE. WITH FEW PROVISIONS HE WAS FORCED TO EAT HIS HUSKIES TO SURVIVE. HE TREKKED 480 KM (300 MILES) BACK TO BASE ONLY TO MISS HIS SUPPLY SHIP BY HOURS, FORCING HIM TO ENDURE ANOTHER WINTER OF BRUTAL CONDITIONS.

Australian geologist and Antarctic explorer Douglas Mawson (1882–1958).
Way down south

The average wind speed at Cape Denison was 80 km/h (50 mph). It regularly gusted at 320 km/h (200 mph). But Douglas Mawson and his colleagues would have to get used to it. For the next two years this was going to be their home.

Mawson was born in Yorkshire in 1882 but grew up in Australia. A geologist by education, he had been bitten early by the exploring bug. He was the principal geologist on an expedition to the New Hebrides (now Vanuatu), and he wrote one of the first major geological studies on the area. He was just 21 at the time.

The early twentieth century was the age of the great Antarctic explorers. In 1910 Mawson had turned down an invitation from Robert Falcon Scott to join his ill-fated Terra Nova Expedition.

Instead, Mawson organized his own adventure, the Australian Antarctic Expedition. This would carry out geographical exploration and scientific studies of King George V Land and Adelie Land, the part of the Antarctic continent directly south of Australia. At the time this region was almost entirely unexplored. Mawson also wanted to include a visit to the South Magnetic Pole.

The Australian Antarctic Expedition

Mawson and his team departed from Hobart on 2 December 1911, on board the SY Aurora. They landed at the wind-buffeted Cape Denison on Commonwealth Bay on 8 January 1912, where they built the hut that would serve as their Main Base for the expedition. They also established a Western camp on the ice shelf in Queen Mary Land.

Mawson had initially wanted to explore the area by air and had brought the first aircraft to Antarctica, a Vickers monoplane. But it suffered damage and the engine struggled in the cold. All their exploring would have to be done on foot, with dogs and sledges. However, by the time they had fully established their camp, the weather was worsening and it was soon too severe to travel in. The men stayed in the hut to see out the long, dark months of an Antarctic winter.

Sledging to disaster

By November 1912, the nearly constant blizzards had eased and the exploration program could begin. Mawson divided the men into seven parties: five would operate from the Main Base and two from the Western camp.

Mawson himself would lead a three-man sledging team along with Xavier Mertz and Lieutenant Belgrave Ninnis. They set out east on 10 November 1912, to survey King George V Land. For five weeks all went smoothly. They mapped the coastline and collected many fine geological samples. Then, as they were crossing what was to become the Ninnis Glacier, disaster struck.

Mawson was driving the sledge, which spread his weight evenly over the ice, and Mertz was skiing. But Ninnis was on foot and his weight breached the surface. He plunged into a snow-covered crevasse, taking the tent, most of their rations, and the six best dogs with him. Mertz and Mawson could see one dead and one injured dog on a ledge 50 m (160 ft) down the massive crevasse, but Ninnis was gone.

A long way from home

Mawson and Mertz said a brief service for their colleague and then turned back. They had a primus stove and fuel but only one week’s provisions and no food for the dogs. They were separated from home by 480 km (300 miles) of the most brutal terrain on earth.

Their first goal was to get to a spare tent cover that they had stashed behind them on their journey. To reach this they sledged continuously for twenty-seven hours. They rigged up a frame for this outer shell of canvas from skis and a theodolite.

Douglas Mawson peering over the edge of the crevasse into which his comrade Lt. Ninnis has fallen along with his sledge, dogs and supplies.

Mawson’s teams had explored large areas of the Antarctic coast and discovered much about its geology, biology and meteorology. They had also accurately determined the location of the South Magnetic Pole.

The trek back was slow going and they soon ran out of food. They had no choice but to kill their huskies one by one and eat them. There was hardly any meat on the animals, and even though they mixed it with a little of their tinned food, the men were almost constantly hungry. The bones, guts and sinew that they could not digest they gave to the remaining dogs.

Poisoned

Mawson and Mertz were so desperately hungry that they ate the huskies’ livers. Unfortunately, these contain a toxic concentration of Vitamin A. Although Vitamin A was only identified in 1917, Inuit peoples had long known about the poisonous nature of these organs. The livers of polar bears, seals and walrus are similarly dangerous.

The two men got very ill very quickly on their journey back. They were racked with sickness, diarrhoea, abdominal pain, dizziness and became irrational. Their skin turned yellow and began to peel from their muscles. Their hair and nails fell out.

Mertz ate more liver than Mawson because he found the dog’s tough muscles too hard to eat and he suffered the worst. As well as the physical deterioration, he became gripped with madness. He would lie curled up in his sleeping bag refusing to move, or would rage violently. At one point Mawson had to sit on Mertz’s chest and seize his arms to stop him wrecking their tent. He even bit off the tip of his own frostbitten little finger. After several major seizures, Mertz finally fell into a coma and died on 8 January 1913.

Walking home alone

That left Douglas Mawson to trek the last 160 km (100 miles) alone. At one point he tumbled into a deep crevasse. He was only saved from plummeting to certain death by his sledge, which jammed itself into the ice above him. He then hauled himself back up the slender rope that attached him to the sledge.

In 1916, the American Geographical Society awarded Mawson the David Livingstone Centenary Medal. He was later awarded the OBE and was also knighted.

Mawson finally made it back to Cape Denison in February, but further misfortune awaited him. The Aurora had sailed away just a few hours before. Mawson and the six men who had stayed behind to look for him were forced to spend a second winter in the brutal arms of Cape Denison until they were finally rescued in December 1913.

The Day the World Shook

THE OCEAN LINER EMPRESS OF AUSTRALIA WAS LEAVING YOKOHAMA HARBOUR WHEN ONE OF THE MOST DEVASTATING EARTHQUAKES IN HISTORY LEVELLED TŌKYŌ AND THE SURROUNDING AREA. MORE THAN 100,000 PEOPLE DIED IN THE SHOCKS AND THE FIRESTORMS THAT FOLLOWED, BUT THE SHIP’S CREW STAYED TO HELP THOUSANDS MORE SURVIVE THE DISASTER.

DATE: 1923 SITUATION: EARTHQUAKE CONDITION OF CONFINEMENT: ON BOARD AN OCEAN LINER IN A BURNING PORT DURATION OF CONFINEMENT: 12 DAYS MEANS OF ESCAPE: CAPTAIN’S PROFESSIONALISM, INDIVIDUAL COURAGE NO. OF ESCAPEES: 2,000 PLUS MANY OTHER REFUGEES DANGERS: TREMORS, FIRE, DROWNING EQUIPMENT: SHIP’S EQUIPMENT

A world turned upside down

The scene could have been taken from a romantic movie: a beautiful ocean liner snug against a wharf, cheering passengers lining her rails, streamers and confetti falling like coloured rain on the hundreds of well-wishers on the dockside.

Seconds later the movie would become a tragedy as one of the most devastating earthquakes in history shattered the scene.

Thousands would die in the initial shocks and the catastrophic fires that followed. But thanks to the cool leadership of the liner’s captain and the selfless actions of her crew and passengers, many thousands more would survive.

Disaster on an unprecedented scale

It was 11.55 a.m. on Saturday, 1 September 1923 and the Empress of Australia was making ready to depart from her berth at Yokohama, Japan.

Then, without warning, the entire dock moved several feet up in the air. Suddenly it plunged back down again, cracking into pieces. Seized by panic, the people screamed and ran, but there was nowhere to go. The dock fell into dust beneath their feet.

More shocks hit, making the land around the bay roll in waves over 2 m (7 ft) high, as if it were the ocean.

‘The 23,000-ton liner was tossed from side to side like a toy boat in a bath.’

The sky was lit a sickly orange from the fires now raging across the city, and a low, near-continuous rumbling sound filled the air as hundreds of buildings collapsed into rubble.

The Empress had been hit by the Great Kantō earthquake. This measured 8.3 on the Richter scale and had its epicentre beneath Ō-shima Island in Sagami Bay, just 80 km (50 miles) from where the ship was moored.

The earthquake devastated Tōkyō, the port city of Yokohama and the surrounding prefectures of Chiba, Kanagawa, and Shizuoka. Between 100,000 – 142,000 people perished, either from the initial tremors, subsequent building collapses or the vicious firestorms whipped up by 110 km/h (70 mph) winds from a nearby typhoon, which struck the area soon after the earthquake. Many people died when their feet got stuck in melting tarmac. In one single incident, 38,000 people who had taken refuge in a yard at a clothing depot were incinerated by a fire whirl.

Peril in port

Individuals were facing disaster at every turn. Captain Robinson of the Empress of Australia had the lives of more than a thousand people on his shoulders.

Although the shocks lessened and eventually ceased, Robinson knew his vessel was in a very dangerous position.

What remained of the docks was engulfed in flame and the Empress was still tied to the wharf.

If she stayed tied to the dock, she would burn. And if that happened, there would be nowhere for the people on board to go.

Taking action

Normally, the Empress would have been able to simply move astern, but a freighter, the Steel Navigator, was moored close behind her. Now she would need tugs to pull her out sideways, but these had been destroyed or crippled in the initial tremors. Furthermore, a ship moored to the east had lost her cable and drifted across the harbour, smashing into the Empress amidships.

First Captain Robinson ordered all available crew – and passengers – to turn the ship’s hoses on the decks and extinguish the embers that were drifting from the burning docks.

He then had ropes and ladders cast over the side to let the survivors trapped on the crumbling dock climb aboard. Next he tried a risky manoeuvre, engaging the Empress’s engines to shove the Steel Navigator enough to allow them to manoeuvre away from the flaming docks.

With metal grinding on metal the Empress managed to shift the freighter, inch by agonizing inch. But just as she was slowly pulling away her port propeller fouled in the Steel Navigator’s anchor cable.

She had edged about 18 m (60 ft) away from the flames; it probably wasn’t going to be enough. Sparks and embers continued to rain down on the deck. Then, fortunately, the wind turned and eased. The ship was safe – for the moment.

Now the captain turned to helping other people. He had the ship’s lifeboats lowered and formed rescue teams of crew and volunteer passengers. They then set out to shore, working through the night to ferry survivors to the ship.

The burning waters

By Sunday morning the Empress was a haven for 2,000 people, but now they faced another danger. A huge slick of burning oil was moving across the harbour towards the ship. The fouled propeller meant the Empress was still unable to steer. Captain Robinson asked the captain of a tanker, the Iris, to help. This vessel managed to tow the bow of the Empress round, allowing her to move slightly out of port to a safer anchorage.

The rescue teams kept working despite the blazing sea.

Staying behind

On 4 September, three days after the earthquake, the Empress’s fouled propeller was freed by a diver from the Japanese battleship Yamashiro, which had arrived at the harbour. The propeller was undamaged and the Empress was now free to leave.

Damage caused by the Great Kantō earthquake in Tōkyō.

But Captain Robinson decided that she should stay to help with the relief work.

For the next week the Empress of Australia re-entered the devastated harbour every morning and sent her boats ashore.

The lifeboats continued the trips, returning full of refugees, who were then either transferred from the ship to other vessels or taken to Kōbe. The ship’s crew and most of the passengers donated their personal belongings to help the survivors.

Sailing into history

Finally, on 12 September 1923, the Empress of Australia departed Yokohama. The heroism of her captain, crew and passengers was not forgotten. Captain Robinson received many awards, including the CBE and the Lloyds Silver Medal.

A group of passengers and refugees commissioned a bronze memorial tablet, which they presented to the ship in recognition of the relief efforts. When the Empress was scrapped in 1952, this tablet was handed on to Captain Robinson, then aged 82, in a special ceremony in Vancouver.

The Long Walk Home

IN 1931, THREE YOUNG GIRLS WERE AMONG THOUSANDS OF CHILDREN FORCIBLY TAKEN FROM THEIR FAMILIES BY THE AUSTRALIAN GOVERNMENT AND SENT TO A HARSH NATIVE SETTLEMENT. MOLLY, DAISY AND GRACIE IMMEDIATELY ESCAPED AND FOLLOWED A RABBIT-PROOF FENCE FOR 1,600 KM (1,000 MILES) THROUGH THE BURNING WESTERN DESERTS TO GET HOME.

DATE: 1931 SITUATION: THREE CHILDREN RUN FROM A STATE HOME CONDITION OF CONFINEMENT: FLEEING THE AUTHORITIES THROUGH THE AUSTRALIAN BUSH DURATION OF CONFINEMENT: 2 MONTHS MEANS OF ESCAPE: HIDING IN THE BUSH, BEGGING FOR HELP NO. OF ESCAPEES: 3 DANGERS: EXHAUSTION, STARVATION, HEAT STROKE EQUIPMENT: NONE

Old rabbit-proof fence remains along Hamersley Drive, Fitzgerald River National Park, Western Australia.
The rabbit-proof fence

Rabbits are not indigenous to Australia. In 1859 an English settler in Victoria, southeast Australia released two dozen into the wild. ‘The introduction of a few rabbits could do little harm and might provide a touch of home, in addition to a spot of hunting.’ But Austin seemed to have forgotten what rabbits are good at and they were soon spreading across the continent like a plague.

Between 1901 and 1907, the government constructed one of the most ambitious wildlife containment schemes the world has ever seen. The plan was simple: cordon off the entire western side of Australia so that the rabbits couldn’t get into it. Three rabbit-proof fences crossed the country. They were one metre (3 ft) high and supported by wooden poles. No.1 Rabbit-Proof Fence ran for 1,833 km (1,139 miles) clear across the continent from Wallal Downs to Jerdacuttup. The total length of all three fences was 3,256 km (2,023 miles).

Bold though this act of segregation was, it was doomed to failure. Rabbits had already crossed west of the barrier and it was near-impossible to maintain such a structure in the harsh conditions of the Western Australian deserts, despite regular patrols by inspectors with bicycles, cars and even camels.

The stolen generation

The fence also acts as a metaphor for another act of segregation imposed on the country by the government of the time.

The white settlers of Australia had many different attitudes to the Aboriginal population. To some they were simply an inferior race. Others believed they could be assimilated into white society and have their heritage ‘bred out’ of them. Some were tolerant and understanding and of course there were many mixed-race children. It was the most divisive issue in that period of Australian history.

From 1920 to 1930 more than 100,000 mixed-race Aboriginal children were taken from their families.

Children were relocated to be educated for a useful life as a farmhand or domestic servant. The government built harsh remand homes where Dickensian conditions were the norm. The children, many as young as three, shared prison-like dormitories with barred windows. Thin blankets gave little protection against the chill nights and the food was basic. These grim educational centres, or ‘native settlements’, were often many hundreds of miles from the place the children called home. Any children caught escaping would have their heads shaved, be beaten with a strap and sent for a spell in solitary confinement.

The food in the workhouse-like ‘native settlements’ was no better than gruel. The children had few clothes and no shoes.

Molly Craig, 14, her half-sister Daisy Kadibil, 11 and their cousin Gracie Fields, 8, arrived at the Moore River Settlement north of Perth in August 1931. They had been taken from their family in Jiggalong nearly 1,600 km (1,000 miles) away and they immediately decided to return home no matter what the consequences. Their plan was simple: they would follow the rabbit-proof fence.