1912 (23 page)

Unpleasant as much of the commentary was, there is no doubt that the expedition was at this point a comedy of errors. The Japanese were not aware of what faced them in Antarctica. And from the locals' point of view, their presence did not add up; given Japan's recent military engagement with Russia, the press saw a risk of Asian political interests expanding south.

The men spent much time on shore, looking for books and newspaper reports that might help them with their efforts on the ice. Some of the local press were won over. After the Japanese had restocked supplies and pushed on southwards, New Zealand had ‘the honour of offering the last Godspeed to the plucky little band of explorers from the Far East', in the more gracious words of the
Lyttleton Times
.

Being ‘helplessly late in the season', the
Kainan-maru
struggled to make headway, carrying on as best it could. On
17 February the Japanese had their first experience of a penguin, which swam towards the ship. The unlucky creature was captured in a bag and assessed: ‘It walked upright, looking for all the world like a gentleman in an overcoat. We immediately instructed the ship's carpenter to make a cage for it and we gave it something to eat. As it showed no interest in the food offered we crumbled up some bread to make pellets which we forced into its beak.'

Eleven days later they saw their first ice floe and berg, which ‘resembled a gigantic bullock with its head submerged and only its back and hindquarters showing above the surface of the water.' By the morning of 6 March the mountains of the Admiralty Range in Victoria Land ‘towered into the sky like the pointed cones of inverted
suribachi
mortars'. The men were so excited that ‘they were girding their loins for a landing before we had even thought of dropping anchor.' Alas, icebergs passed by—‘with their flat tops they looked like the batteries out in Shinagawa Bay'—and on 9 March the sea started to freeze. ‘At first the ice took the form of small lotus leaves, which as we watched gradually spread out over the sea so as to cover the whole surface.' To make matters worse, the compass needle started to swing wildly. They were beginning to experience the effects of proximity to the South Magnetic Pole.

By now winter was fast on its way. ‘The ice started to form as particles…and these would at first be about one
shaku
[thirty centimetres] in diameter and one
sun
[three centimetres] thick. They then gradually turned into disks of ice with an area approximately two
ken
square
shaku
[four metres] which drifted on the surface of the sea,' the official account of the expedition later stated. ‘As far ahead as the eye could see the surface of the water was completely packed with these disks, and it was now quite probable that they would bring the ship to a halt.' Recognising the risk of becoming trapped, the Japanese tried to find
an alternative route. ‘The sea was silver white as far as the eye could see, waveless and flat as the surface of a frozen lake.' By 12 March the sea ice had thickened to two
shaku
(sixty centimetres) and the vessel could go no further. ‘The crunch and crack every time we smashed through a floe were not at all pleasant.'

The crew attempted to turn the
Kainan-maru
around quickly, desperate to avoid the fate of de Gerlache, who had been beset by the Antarctic winter. Shirase realised they were in no position for such a stay, and headed for Australia. This was easier said than done, and the pack ice caused considerable damage to the hull as the vessel was swung north. The
Kainanmaru
had reached 74°16'S, a respectable latitude for the time of year.

After a rough passage the Japanese limped dejectedly into Sydney on 1 May 1911. The Australian scientist Edgeworth David interceded on their behalf, and the authorities were supportive, giving a berth and exemption from harbour dues.

Newspaper coverage, however, remained tainted by scorn and suspicion. Britain's
Observer
commented dryly that the Japanese had fallen nearly 15° short of Shackleton's efforts: ‘The whole incident illustrates the inadvisability, not to say danger, of attempting great undertakings with inadequate means. In the opinion of most observers, the Japanese Government would have been well advised had they interdicted the departure of the expedition until at least they were satisfied that, although there might be failure, there would be no fiasco.' A minor American paper, the
Tacoma Times
, led with the impressive headline ‘Swore by Buddha they'd find South Pole but Jap expedition was miserable failure' and wrote of mutiny, with Captain Nomura allegedly taking over from Nobu Shirase and a Japanese
government embargo supposedly slapped on the crew once the expedition reached Sydney.

While waiting for the next Antarctic season and for their ship to be refurbished, the expedition members were granted permission to settle in Parsley Bay. The site today is surrounded by dense bush rolling down to the water's edge, with a stunning view of Sydney Harbour. In 1911 the area was largely clear of bush, with more of an English-lawn effect. The Japanese set up their camp among the few remaining tall eucalypts. The main hut and tents, all originally intended for the ice, were used for storage and bathing.

With few funds, the men ‘lived almost a beggar's life'. Shirase later wrote: ‘There were some who criticised our endeavours, some who mocked us, and some who were even downright abusive.' The shortage of money concerned Shirase, who was not sure the expedition would be able to muster a second attempt the following year. In May, Nomura was sent back to Japan with a report on what had been achieved and the team's future plans: a renewed attempt on the pole, to be reached in February 1913. The expedition's supporters maintained that to give up now would mean Japan ‘will be ashamed'—a desperate bid to secure extra funds.

The Australian military became twitchy over the presence of a foreign expedition so close to the fort at South Head. Extra pickets were mounted and all leave was cancelled. The newspapers were keen to know whether an official complaint had been lodged at the Japanese consulate. The
Clarence and Richmond Examiner
published a short piece entitled ‘Japanese Espionage', indignantly reporting that a Japanese representative had declared rumours of spying to be ‘too ridiculous to entertain seriously'.

Calmer heads prevailed. On 15 May, under the title ‘The Mysterious Japs', Sydney's
Sun
wrote that ‘Shirase and his
merry men' could not be spies: ‘No nation—and certainly not a shrewd and intelligent nation like the Japanese' would attempt such surveillance. Describing the Japanese as scientists, Edgeworth David argued in a
Daily Telegraph
interview that ‘to raise an outcry against them on the purely imaginary grounds that they are spies is worse than inhospitable—it is sheer nervous stupidity.'

The intervention did the trick, and the hysteria subsided. Now the Japanese camp was swamped with visitors and supporters, many keen to have their photos taken with the team and even getting Shirase to pose with their children. He enigmatically observed that the Japanese were the ‘enviable recipients of bouquets from many admiring maidens of the island'.

At home, news of the Japanese return to Australia spurred the organising committee to raise more funds. The risk of disgrace in having to abandon the expedition in Sydney was too much to bear. Count Okuma again spearheaded the effort, and expedition supporters lectured across the nation. In a July interview with the
Japan Times
, Okuma lambasted the government for its broken promises and its reticence to support the team in the field:

There are men on board the ship who have sufficient knowledge of astronomy and navigation. What more is necessary?… only strong physique, unflagging determination, and the money to back them up are what are wanted, and not learned men. This being the case, we appeal to the generosity of our countrymen…Only the small sum of 70000 yen is needed. We are not Europeans: we need a fifth less provisions and clothes than they do. We have wonderful stomachs whose chemistry can produce much energy from a little amount of food. And our constitution can stand almost any kind of
hardship. When we are thus fitted for the task better than any people, why should we abandon the hope of reaching the Pole and let foreigners get the glory? Some may ask ‘What's the use of finding the Pole'? Did the Americans get any benefit from the North Pole? If they succeed in the attempt this time, they will bring back a chart of the seas around the Pole which task has not been done by anybody. When well explored the Antarctic seas will offer us a rich field of fishery. When things are becoming harder for us in the northern seas, a new field of freedom will be welcomed. As to the distance there is but a difference of two thousand miles. Is 70000 yen too big a price to pay for the seas of inexhaustible wealth?

The hyperbole seemed to work. In October, Nomura returned to Sydney with the news that they had at least enough money to continue, bringing with him fresh provisions and other supplies. Shortly after, some of the crew were sent home sick, dogs were delivered and two new expedition members joined the team: Masakichi Ikeda, who bolstered the scientific side of the expedition with his degree in agricultural science, and Taizumi Yasunao, a cameraman from the Japanese film company M. Pathe (not to be confused with the international Pathé Film Company). Shirase could prepare for his second attempt south.

The expedition's original aim was to dash to the South Geographic Pole, but Scott and Amundsen were now firmly ensconced in Antarctica and had a significant start. Shackleton was sceptical of the Japanese bid for the pole and, by 1912, so was Shirase. The expedition duly changed its focus, and science became the primary reason for the trip.

Meeting Edgeworth David was fortuitous for the Japanese. Not only did he alleviate fears in Sydney about their expedition; he also spent considerable time bringing them up to speed on Antarctica, particularly on how best to approach to the
continent, the ocean depths, the currents, and its known geography and geology. Shirase and his men finally had access to one of the few experienced Antarctic scientists.

With news that at least some of the funding was secured for a second attempt, Count Okuma telegrammed Shirase in Sydney: ‘Go forth. Set sail anew. Though you perish in the attempt, do not return until you have achieved your aims.' The official account of the expedition later stated, ‘How did the twenty-seven gallant men of the expedition feel when they received the Count's instructions? There is no need to ask!' Indeed.

On 10 November 1911 the Royal Society of New South Wales gave a farewell dinner in Sydney for the Australasian expedition to Antarctica, led by Douglas Mawson. Attending were representatives of the Japanese expedition, for which a toast was proposed by the University of Sydney's registrar. Japan's Vice-Consul Miho responded that ‘they had all one common object in their search after scientific truth—the advancement of humanity.'

By the time Shirase and his men left Australia they were considerably better placed to make a scientific contribution to the exploration of Antarctica. In a letter later published in Sydney's
Daily Telegraph
, Shirase and several key team members wrote to Scott, informing the British leader of the Japanese expedition's intentions. They also wrote to Edgeworth David, thanking him for his endeavours:

Dear Sir,

As you are aware, we are leaving Sydney to-morrow on our journey to Antarctica; but we cannot go without expressing our heartfelt thanks to you for your many kindnesses and courtesies to us during our enforced stay in this port.

When we first arrived at Sydney we were in a state of considerable disappointment, in consequence of the partial and temporary failure of our endeavour. To add to this we
found ourselves, and in some quarters, subjected to a degree of suspicion as to our bona-fides, which was as unexpected as it was unworthy.

At this juncture you, dear sir, came forward, and after satisfying yourself by independent enquiry and investigation of the true nature of our enterprise—which no one in the world at the present day is better able to do—you were good enough to set the seal of your magnificent reputation upon our bona-fides, and to treat us as brothers in the realm of science.

That we did not accept all of your kind offers to bring us into public notice was not from any lack of appreciation of the honour you desired to do us. But we felt there was a danger that your generosity and magnanimity might unwillingly place us in a position to which we could only regard ourselves as entitled when our efforts should have been crowned with success.

Whatever may be the fate of our enterprise, we shall never forget you.

We are, Dear Sir, Yours most sincerely

Signed

Nobu Shirase Commander

Nackichi Nomura Captain of the ‘Kainan-Maru'

Terutaro Takeda Scientist

Masakichi Ikeda Scientist

Seizo Miisho Physician