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Below the Convergence: Voyages Toward Antarctica 1699-1839

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For whatever reason, recent book reviewers try to relate any nautical book to Patrick O'Brien's fiction. This is akin to relating the taste of any strange mystery meat to the taste of chicken. There is absolutely no relationship between the present book and O'Brien's fiction. One can wonder if some reviewers actually read the books they review. Having said that -

The book provides an interesting overview of early Antarctic exploration, both planned and accidental. There is a chapter on scurvy, the bane of historic long sea voyages, with indications of the various means used for prevention - as usual, politics got in the way of common sense (the British government used lime juice controlled by British interests instead of the more effective lemon juice controlled by Spanish interests) and the government was slow to adopt what was being routinely used in the private sector. There is also a chapter on the problems in finding longitude, and an overview chapter on the Southern Ocean and the Antarctic Convergence.

Accounts of the voyages begin with Edmund Halley's expedition aboard the Paramore in the closing years of the 17th century, then skip forward to the second voyage of James Cook (1772-1775). Sealers began their activities immediately after the American Revolution. One problem with scientific exploration, then as now, was that commercial interests immediately rushed in to exploit any resources discovered, initially decimating the fur seal population. John Nicol in his autobiography (see John Nicol, Mariner) mentions being aboard the Amelia (1791-1792) when they killed and skinned 30,000 seals at the Island of Lopex (Lobos Island in northern Peru). The sealers added some knowledge, but mainly to identify sealing grounds. There are some comments about diet - people commonly ate penguins among other things.

People carrying out research are familiar with dealing with bureaucracies that want proposals two or three years in advance with an indication of what discoveries will be made before the research is conducted. Consequently, real discoveries are often unfunded, i.e., it is work carried out on the side while carrying out other funded work. William Smith commanded the merchant ship Williams on a voyage from Buenos Aires to Valparaiso when he discovered the South Shetland Islands, somewhat by accident, early in 1819 while sailing westward around Cape Horn. On a subsequent voyage around the Horn that same year, he made an unauthorized deviation in his route to go south for further exploration (insurance companies tended to forbid such deviations). After he reported his discoveries, the Royal Navy chartered the Williams later that same year and, under the command of Edward Bransfield, made the first observations of the mountain ranges on the Antarctic Peninsula and sailed a short distance into the Weddell Sea (the British lost Bransfield's journal). The immediate rush of sealers into the area resulted in the slaughtering of an estimated half million seals during the 1820-1821 season. Forty sealing ships visited the islands during the 1821-1822 season and essentially exterminated the remaining seals. William Smith eventually died in poverty in an almshouse.

The book goes on to discuss the voyages of James Clark Ross, James Weddell, and others up through 1839, with some mention of later expeditions. It provides a good description of the early Antarctic explorers and their voyages through the ice and freezing temperatures.

Spritely writing which is scholarly without reading like scholarship gives special pleasure. For this reason, I give my unqualified recommendation and praise to Alan Gurney's Below the Convergence: Voyages Toward Antarctica 1699-1839. The short author's biography describes Gurney as a "yacht designer and photographer living on the Islay of Islay in Scotland," but this description either sells him short or demonstrates convincingly his remarkable book. That the author is a sailor is obvious. Gurney begins his book with separate chapters reminding the reader what sailing (as opposed to steaming) before chronometers entailed -- finding longitude was an uncertain (and perilous) business, and death and disability from scurvy were common. With this by way of background, Gurney goes on to describe the voyages of Edmond Halley, James Cook, and other lesser-known explorers and merchant sailors in the southern hemisphere. Gurney ably draws upon both the primary sources (logs, letters) left by the sailors, and places them in both historical and scientific context for the modern reader. I learned a great deal here, through pedagogy both (seemingly) effortless and wise. (Note: just in case you were wondering, the "convergence" is a "definite biogeograhical frontier", weaving between 50 and 60 degrees S, where two bodies of water of differing temperature and salinity converge, separating differing forms of planktonic life and bottom sediment).

Gurney's Below the Convergence is a very well written book that provides a wonderful historical back drop for the later feats of Scott, Shackleton, and Amundsen. Gurney follows the 18th and early 19th century expeditions into the Southern Ocean by the British, Americans, and Russians and imparts in the reader a true feeling of the adventure and misery of those hearty men. Not content to merely cite facts, Gurney uses these facts to spin an exciting tale of imperial discovery and commercial exploitation of the Southern Ocean.

After reading Huntford's Shakleton, pick up this book and you will discover that perhaps Shakleton, for all his incredible feats, was not so far above the norm in courage and valor when compared to his Antarctic predecessors.

Beginning with Ptolemey and all the way up to the first siting of the Ant- arctic Continent, Gurney does a yeoman's job of presenting the finds and ever expanding knowledge of the Southern Ocean. As a sailor and scientist, Gurney presents both the good and bad when discussing the voyages of discovery of such men as Captains Cook and Bellinghausen; versus the luck and scandals of the sealers and whalers.

Each discovery builds on the previous findings and Gurney explains not only what the political consequences were but also the economic impacts. The sad part of this documentation is the annihilation of first the fur seals and then the other seals for the hides and oil, and then onto the whales. The destruction was so complete, that it is only now, one hundred years after the ending of the trade that the populations are back up to their pre-1800 numbers.

What I found most gratifying was Gurney's narrative as to what happened to the 'discoverers' later in life. Most died young, some from disease and quite a number of others (including Cook) where killed by natives of the islands they discovered. It's only fitting in a way, since their discoveries contributed to the destruction of so many of the native culture (such as Tahiti and Tierra del Fuego).

Every fan of Antarctic exploration should read this book. It is a great tribute to those who came so many years before Shackleton, Scott and others into this completely unknown part of our world. The accounts are vivid and often times humorous, in spite of the incredible hardships these men endured. Although this might be considered difficult subject matter, the author does a great job of telling each story of adventure in a compelling and griping manner. We owe much to these men for their leadership, courage and vision. The account of Captain Cook is particularly good. What a great leader! This is a good addition for all you arm-chair explorers.

I mean early, early exploration. Gurney is great at mixing the technical with the storytelling. I found myself inextricably drawn in; the book is much too short. Given the idea that any information at all exists from these old sea voyages makes it more incredible for its detail. I've read far more than my share on Antarctic exploration; if you like the minutiae of acquiring a navigational fix on the open sea, why it's called the convergence, why almost everything about not only Anarctica but the southern latitudes is so weird, and why Scott and Amundsen stood on the shoulders of giants, check this one out.

In an age where the entire planet hads been mapped from space it's hard to realize that there was a time, not that long ago, when the existence of a Southern continent was still a matter of speculation and doubt. Gurney's book beins with voyages of the Dutch East India company, skirting the South polar regions around the beginning of the 17th century and ends with the complete maping of the coast of Antarctica in the mid-19th. Along the way are detailed stories not only of the early polar explorers, but scores of detailed asides on such diverse topics as the food and other provisions used by sailors, the problem of scurvy, the history of the rum ration, and the story of John Harrsion and his clocks that made detailed navigation and mapping possible. An excellent choice for fans of sailing, history, discovery or geography.

After decades of reading daily, this is the first book I have ever read that when I finished, I immediately turned to the first page and started my second reading. For anyone interested in Antartica, this book is a must, and it is very well written. It's about courage, determination, the environment and maybe most of all about geometry.