urley shifts frequently from still to motion-picture camera. When seals suddenly appear, swimming and splashing around the ship, Hurley grabs his movie camera; he wants to record action. One day, to the amazement of crewmen, he lashes his “cinematograph machine” on the end of the top-gallant yard so that he can get aerial views of the pack ice. Another day he joins a scientific party off to inspect an iceberg seven and a half miles from the ship. He likes to photograph the majestic icebergs with both still and movie cameras. Once, ice began to give way and he almost fell through.

Hurley “is a marvel,” writes Frank Worsley, captain of the Endurance. “[W]ith cheerful Australian profanity he perambulates alone aloft & everywhere, in the most dangerous & slippery places he can find, content & happy at all times but cursing so if he can get a good or novel picture. Stands bare & and hair waving in the wind, where we are all gloved and helmeted, he snaps his snaps or winds his handle turning out curses of delight & pictures of Life by the fathom.”

c o n t i n u e . . .