You might expect that most sounds you heard in the Antarctic would be those that you'd brought with you, perhaps augmented by the that of nearly continuous winds. When British explorer Ernest Shackleton and his crew made their ill-fated expedition there in 1914, they heard a variety of sounds. Even natural ones took on completely unnatural significance. From that point on the ice's movement determined the direction of travel, carrying the Endurance away from her goal until finally, nine months later, in October, it became obvious to everyone that the vessel's end was near. Like relatives gathered around a terminal patient, all waited for the moment of death.
Diaries report the sounds of the end.
I couldn't help thinking that it was making just the sort of sound that you would expect a human being to utter if he were in fear of being murdered. When the wind would momentarily subside, the ice could be heard grinding against the Endurance's sides. The continuous sound reminded physicist R. W. James of the sound of London traffic you would hear sitting in a quiet park. The Celts describe how a banshee, or domestic spirit, will wail at the moment of a death in the family, and the Endurance had more than one. On the evening of October 26th, as the ice began warping the deck of the sharply tilted wooden ship, twisting it from side to side, eight emperor penguins, an unusually large number to travel together, approached the ship in solemn procession.