Percy Richardson had just retired from a senior post with a firm in the city.
He had received a substantial retirement lump sum and was planning to take a
once in a lifetime holiday. Percy was a bachelor and a little reclusive. He
usually spent his holidays in the countryside where he could indulge his
passion for bird watching and photographing our feathered friends. He had
sometimes joined groups on walking holidays on the continent, but this time he
wanted to do something really different.
In a travel magazine he chanced on an article by someone who had traveled as a tourist to Antarctica. They had seen seven different species of penguin on the Southern polar continent and this sparked Percy’s interest and he began to look into the costs and possibilities of going there.
There were larger cruise ships that went down to Antarctic Peninsula which provided lots of on- board social activity, but if one wanted to get ashore more often a smaller boat seemed the better idea. Groups of no larger than a hundred were permitted ashore in one place at any one time, due to internationally agreed controls. Eventually he found a package that he felt suited him best – a group of about seventy people could travel on a smaller boat with an equal number of crew to look after their needs and take them on shore trips. Percy paid up and signed up for the trip.
After flying from Heath Row to Buenos Aires, where a couple of days were spent sight-seeing, the party were flown down to Ushuaia, at the tip of South America, to board their boat that was to take them down the Antarctic Peninsula and back via South Georgia and the Falkland Islands. In addition to the normal complement one might expect in a ship’s crew were a select group of experts on the natural history, geology and history of Antarctica. Percy was pleased to note one of these was a very knowledgeable ornithologist. Whilst at sea these experts would be giving educational talks about the many interesting things the passengers would be seeing when they went ashore and also guiding them on their shore trips.
Shore trips would be made in small rubber boats with outboard engines, called Zephyrs, similar to those used in commando landings. Each one could carry about eight to ten people and getting all the passengers ashore at one time would be no problem.
Although the boat had looked quite big, towering above them at the dockside before they boarded, once out to sea off Cape Horn, it pitched and tossed considerably. Percy miserably and queasily began to wonder if it was all going to be worth it. However, within twenty-four hours he had found his sea-legs, his appetite had returned and everyone was enjoying thoughts of the prospects ahead whetted by the talks of their minders.
Nobody had seen any significance in the fact that the passenger list included a Mr and Mrs Richards accompanied by their son Gregory. They came just before Percy Richardson on the passenger list. The Richards had brought their son Gregory with them as a 21st birthday gift, he was keen on travel and exploration.
Once down at the Peninsula regular shore trips were being made and things were going well. Percy was more than delighted when the opportunity came to visit the place where the Albatross nested and he managed to get some photographs. He had purchased an expensive telephoto lens for his camera especially for this trip. Each time they went ashore and he got some good photographs, he would hurry down to his cabin when he got back on board. There he would download them onto his laptop and edit them, saving the best.
When they went ashore at different places in the Zephyrs they would travel backwards and forwards in the same craft with the same guide usually to ensure everyone was accounted for. Often there would be a shore trip in the morning before returning for lunch on board and another trip ashore in the afternoon at a new location.
Percy Richardson’s portfolio of pictures on his laptop was growing to include elephant seals and Antarctic fur seals, some with their fluffy pups, and a prized shot of a solitary leopard seal floating on a small ice floe. Most of all he was delighting in photographing all the different species of penguin. He had already captured lots of shots of Adelie, Gentoo, Southern Rock Hoppers, Macaroni, with their distinctive yellow crests, King Penguins and Chinstraps. He could hardly wait for the next morning when they were going ashore onto a beach where they were promised they would see thousands of Emperor Penguins. Emperor Penguins are the largest of all the penguins, standing up to about four feet tall and they were told they would be able to walk about amongst crowds of them.
Nine zephyrs took the whole party ashore that morning, about eight of the tour party plus a guide in each one. Once ashore everyone was told that they could wander about freely as they wished, but be back at the Zephyrs in about three hours to return for lunch. Some of the guides set off to walk too, while some stayed with the zephyrs.
After about an hour Gregory Richards, limping very badly, hobbled back to the Zephyrs with his parents. He had climbed up onto some rocks, slipped, twisted his ankle badly and grazed his leg. Olivia, one of the guides, a Scandinavian girl with lots of polar experience and a first aider too, took a look at Gregory’s leg and as a precaution said she would take him back to the ship where he could get the ankle bound up and the graze treated.
This was quickly done and after leaving Gregory in the safe hands of the ship’s medical team she was soon back on the beach with the Zephyr.
Much further down the beach Percy Richardson was in the midst of the Emperor Penguins. It was just as they had been told, these large birds had no fear of humans. He could wander about amongst them easily and they took no notice. He might just as well have been another penguin himself. In fact, he was so close to them he didn’t need the telephoto lens on his camera. He sat on a small rock removed the large lens, putting it down beside him, and replaced it with the standard lens. Unfortunately, in his eagerness he forgot to pick up the telephoto lens.
He wandered on further amongst the throng, then noticing in the distance some members of the party were turning to head back to the Zephyrs, he looked at his watch and realised it would soon be time to return. It was then that he suddenly realised with horror that he was lacking his prized telephoto lens. He frantically started searching for it, trying to retrace his steps looking everywhere. Time was ticking away, but he was sure they would wait a little longer for him. It was a very expensive piece of equipment and as well as the financial loss he would incur if it was lost, he didn’t want to be without it for the rest of the trip.
At the departure point most of the Zephyrs had already set off back to the ship. Olivia was about to set off with her compliment in her Zephyr when she turned Harry Green, the guide team’s geologist and said “That’s all mine aboard. Who are you waiting for?”
“Only Mr Richardson” replied Harry “I don’t know where he’s got too?”
“Mr Richards’ son” responded Olivia “He sprained his ankle. I took him back to the boat a couple of hours ago.”
“Nobody told me” Harry muttered and then “Well, let’s all go then. I’m ready for lunch.”
A relieved Percy eventually found his treasured telephoto lens, hurriedly stuffed into his large camera bag and set off again. Looking at his watch he realised he was a few minutes late, but was sure one of the Zephyrs would be waiting for him.
Breathless, he arrived at what he was sure was the place, only to find no sign of anyone or any Zephyrs. Looking out across the sea towards the boat, he thought he could just make out the last two Zephyrs arriving back at the ship. In panic he started leaping up and down, waving his arms and shouting at the top of his voice. All to no avail, the ship was soon under way and disappearing from view round a headland.
A distraught Percy Richardson sat on the beach, all sorts of thoughts racing through his mind. Would he be missed soon? Would they turn back to search for him? Then again, they might think he’d fallen overboard and he’d been told one would be unlikely to survive more than twenty minutes in those icy waters. How soon before another cruise ship might come along? It could be days and he had no food and although the Antarctic nights were short, temperatures dropped to well below zero.
Back on the ship passengers and crew were sitting down to lunch. One person did ask “Where’s Percy?” which provoked the response “You know Percy. He’s probably still down in his cabin downloading penguin photos onto his laptop.”
That afternoon the weather closed in with a strong wind, cold rain and rough sea. On board further shore trips were cancelled for the day. A cold, wet, miserable Percy sat huddled on a beach devoid of shelter. He was not a religious person in any way, but if there was a God he felt now was the time to pray. He’d never murdered anyone or robbed a bank, but if he got out of this alive, he promised he would repay everything he’d fiddled on the company expense account over the years.
On the ship, at four ‘o’ clock in the afternoon, the bar opened for Happy Hour, and for those who preferred, tea or coffee and cakes were served. It was a time when passengers and guides all enjoyed socialising together. As Harry Green turned from the bar he saw young Gregory Richards limping towards him with a stick.
“What’s happened to you?” Harry asked Gregory.
As Gregory explained his accident and how Olivia had brought him back to the ship Harry’s face paled with the awful realisation – this was Mr Richards’ son, so Mr Percy Richardson must have been left behind on the beach.
Gregory rushed to find the captain, and the ship was soon turned about. Tannoy messages and a thorough search confirmed Percy Richardson was not on board as they sailed back towards the penguin beach.
Fortunately, the daylight hours were long and at nine ‘o’ clock that evening five members of the crew including the ship’s doctor descended down the side of the ship into a Zephyr bobbing violently in a rough sea. A relieved, but shivering, almost gibbering Percy Richardson was wrapped in an emergency foil sheet and transported back to the ship.
Percy was fully recovered from his ordeal by the next morning and so thankful to be safe again, he decided he didn’t want to pursue any action against the crew.
The Norwegian skipper, named Frederickson, told of the time as a young man he served under a Captain Fredericks and he would sometimes be asked if the captain was his father, which of course he wasn’t. With all the Richards and Richardsons, Williams and Williamsons, Robins and Robinsons and so on, something like this was bound to have happened one day, but greater attention would be paid to passenger lists in future.
Back in England, Percy often tells his tale, perhaps a little embroidered, of being marooned on the Antarctic Peninsula like a modern-day Robinson Crusoe.
The accounts department of the company where he had worked for many years were one day surprised to receive a large bankers draft. An anonymous accompanying note simply said an ex-employee had just realised that whilst working for the company, he’d made a few “minor” errors in his expense claims.
About the author
Guy Pratt is a retired octogenarian second hand bookseller who enjoys gardening, long walks with his dog and travel. He gravitated into the book trade after earlier years in farming, the army Intelligence Corps and the civil service.
