Frank Worsley was the captain and navigator, a New Zealander with a gift for dead reckoning that would prove critical. He was exuberant and precise in roughly equal measure, which is an unusual combination and exactly the one the voyage required.
Tom Crean was the second officer, an Irishman from County Kerry who had served on both of Scott’s Antarctic expeditions and was, by 1914, a seasoned polar survivor. His physical toughness was a matter of legend among Antarctic men, but his endurance was not merely physical. He radiated a steady, unflappable competence that was its own kind of leadership.
Henry McNish was the ship’s carpenter, a Scotsman of formidable practical skill and equally formidable stubbornness. His relationship with Shackleton would become complicated as the expedition unraveled — he challenged his commander’s authority at one point during the ice drift, which Shackleton did not forget — but his technical abilities were irreplaceable, and they would be needed.
Frank Hurley was the expedition’s official photographer, an Australian who had already served on Antarctic expeditions and whose eye for the dramatic was matched by a physical courage that was genuinely remarkable. Shackleton had hired him without interviewing him, the only member of the expedition he had not personally assessed. The decision turned out to be among the best he made.
Leonard Hussey was the meteorologist, a small, cheerful man who played the banjo. When Shackleton made the difficult decisions about what weight could be carried and what had to be left behind, he refused to leave Hussey’s banjo. The decision was not sentimental: he understood that the instrument’s effect on morale was worth more than its weight in other supplies.