Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1929-01-22
ANTARCTIC WHALES
|MPER|L BYRD BOAT.
DURING POLAR TRIP
Commander and Four Men in
Small Craft Encounter
Many Man Killers.
SEEKING LANDING PLACE
FOR ELEANOR BOILING
Motor of Vessel Stops While Ma
rine Monsters Are Lurking
Nearby.
BY RUSSELL OWENS.

BY Wireless to The Star ana New York Times.
BAY OF WHALES, Antarctica, jan
uary 22.--We had our closest and most
disconcerting contact with killer
whales Sunday night. We had been
wondering whether they would attack
an open boat, for they are the most
vicious and sinister of living animals
and kill without difficulty-these whales
twenty-five feet long. We know now
that they will at least head for an open
boat and drive all hands onto the ice.
The short but exciting guessing con-
test with the whales came during a long
excursion made by Comdr. Byrd in a
small boat to a lead along the eastern
side of the bay. He was looking for a
possible landing place for the Eleanor
Boiling, which is due in a few days,
and which will offer an unloading prob
lem which will be more difficult than
the one now practically concluded.
He took one of the quarter boats
which was driven by an outboard motor
such as he used before successfully in
the Arctic. When he left the City of
New York and headed eastward toward
the lead, he was accompanied by
Sverre Strom, the first mate and ice
pilot; Paul Siple, the Boy Scout, and
John Sutton, who were running the
motor, and myself.
r. HaA
with q stiff wind blowing off the ice.
but, although, it was still showing a
little when we put off, and the sky was
thick dirty grey, we could see for sew
eral miles and make out the smoky
outline OF the ice cliffs ahead of us.
The boat ran along the edge of the
bay ice directly toward the barrier to
the East for some time. The commander
and Strom, steering the boat through
the big hunks of the pack ice and pieces
OF the bay ice which had broken of and
were drifting out They were nearly an
small. Although some were 90 or 80
yards across and stuck out great tongues
OF solid blue ice far below the water
line, ugly looking shelves cobwebbed and
honeycombed with perforations.
Surf Lashes Ice.
The water Tapped against these tiny
bergs, rushing into the holes where the
water had eaten the ice away, and out
again, like the sound of surf on a rocky
shore.
There we're long stretches where there
was little ice, only scum on the surface.
and the boat dashed over the waves
which slapped against the bow. One
could shut ones eyes and almost imag-
Inc day in harbor of Maine when
that sound was last heard, except for
the snow particles and the icy wind cut
ting into our faces.
But what contrast when one looked
around agaln-nothing but black water
and blue and white ice. Paul and John
crouched over in the stern, Paul steer
ing, Strom sitting in his great coat with
1ur collar and fur cap and the COM
mander standing up beside his boat
compass. Glass slung around his neck
and Muf1ed in heavy Brown coat and
Brown fur cap with the tabs hanging
over his ears.
When we first reached the barrier.
1t was about 35-feet high, a steep wall
OF white snow outside the true barrier
line, wall in which the sharp lines
OF cleavage and the strata of many
snow falls could be seen distinctly.
In some places, masses of this stiff
snow, partly formed into ice by pressure
was breaking away and leaning far out
from the wall, so that we did not get
TOO near. There many long stretches
where it had peeled off entirely and the
ice Of the barrier could be seen shining
with pale, but strangely beautiful
tint of blue
The commander turned the boats
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