Undesirable merchant seamen in transit: Harold Shaw,the Antarctic and the asylum

Tracing the lives of seamen in transit

Shaw’s ill health and behaviour brought him into contact with many authorities at sea and on land. The corresponding bureaucratic paper trails are held in the New Zealand Archives. ¹ Such administrative records, as Alston Kennerley has acknowledged, bring merchant seamen who stepped outside the accepted norms of behaviour to the notice of historians. ² The manifestation of, and the circumstances surrounding, Shaw’s ‘dysfunction’ were conspicuous, unlike those who ‘simply disappeared’ when they became disabled or injured. ³ While Shaw is mentioned in some accounts left by the men involved in the Ross Sea Party, richer evidence is provided by immigration and health departmental records, and associated newspaper accounts. In casualised maritime employment, the breadth of this evidence is rare, making Shaw a worthy candidate for such a case study. ⁴

There are some gaps in Shaw’s history, but these intervals speak to the transitory nature of seafaring life. The importance of using these ‘periods of transit’ was raised in a 2016 edition of the Journal of Global History. ⁵ Therein, historians emphasised the need to consider ‘transit’, beyond the usual ocean-based narratives. ⁶ Rethinking the period between arrival and departure shows how passengers and crew, trapped by bureaucratic controls, experienced ‘in-between states’. ⁷ Those whose maritime mobility was constrained by practices governing steam-age mobility faced ‘uncertain or thwarted arrivals’. ⁸ G. Balachandran’s study proves analogous with Shaw being subjected to ‘unceremonious involuntary departures’ from New Zealand. ⁹ Although able to leave his ship(s) Shaw was detained in other ‘states of transit’ – court, hospital and asylum. ¹⁰ The associated land-based sources and, as Martin Dusinberre shows, the ‘archival silences’ between them, are all part of Shaw’s transitory life. ¹¹ While Shaw chose this type of existence, it was compounded by external factors. Bureaucratic attempts were made to ‘thwart his arrival’ while regulations ensured that he was unable to remain in New Zealand for longer than absolutely necessary. ¹² Shaw found his mobility restricted by the whim of his captain and land-based authorities. Whereas similar research typically focuses on the restrictions against non-white crews, Shaw’s Britishness afforded him no protection. ¹³ This distinction is important. His undesirability as an individual was not associated with his origin, but his likelihood of becoming a public charge.

Harold Shaw’s inability to remain in New Zealand resulted from two laws used to manage arriving mariners: the Shipping and Seamen Act and the Immigration Restriction Act. While neither was exclusive to New Zealand, the country’s version of the latter was particularly complex. ¹⁴ It decreed that bond payments were required for passengers or crew found ‘lunatic, idiotic, deaf, dumb, blind or infirm’ to land, and that those with similar afflictions were deportable as ‘prohibited immigrants’. ¹⁵ Any crew member deemed illiterate, diseased or insane avoided deportation if they left on the same ship. They were instead entered onto a ‘restricted list’ pending their departure. The more established, but equally verbose, Shipping and Seamen Act provided protection for ships’ crews and their employers. ¹⁶ Like the British Merchant Shipping Act, it contained a wide range of protectionist measures through which Shaw would both benefit and be penalised. ¹⁷ Finally a ‘land-based’ act was used to facilitate Shaw’s institutionalisation. The Mental Defectives Act was used to detain him in an asylum, thus adding a new dimension to the concept of being in transit. ¹⁸ Shaw was not suited to confinement, as evident in his experiences on the Aurora.

The Aurora and the Ross Sea Party

The Ross Sea Party on the Aurora were responsible for laying the supply depots for Ernest Shackleton’s Imperial Trans-Antarctic Expedition (1914–1917). Of this mission, the fate of Shackleton and his team on the Endurance is better known. Crushed by ice in the Weddell Sea, the crew decamped to Elephant Island, from where Shackleton and five men managed to reach South Georgia on the James Caird to raise the alarm. Unaware of this, the Ross Sea Party, at the opposite side of the Antarctic, continued their task with fatal consequences. The Aurora was trapped in a drifting ice-floe for ten months, leaving the shore party stranded. First officer Joseph Stenhouse decided to use their remaining supplies to seek assistance in New Zealand. After repairs there, the Aurora rescued the remaining shore party at the start of 1917. Three of the Ross Sea Party lost their lives: Aeneas Mackintosh, Arnold Spencer-Smith and Victor Hayward.

The plight of the Ross Sea Party has been accounted for in the histories of Shackleton’s expedition. Richard McElrea, David Harrowfield and Kelly Tyler-Lewis have used first-hand accounts from the officers on the Aurora and those stranded ashore to re-tell their stories. ¹⁹ Shaw’s shipmates wrote of their fireman’s demeanour, health and behaviour as a detriment to their already perilous circumstances. ²⁰ Based on their descriptions of his ‘fits’, Tyler-Lewis suspected Shaw of suffering from epilepsy, a hypothesis expounded on by Janna Devinsky, Daniel Lowenstein and Richard McElrea. ²¹ While he faced the ire of those who employed him, it is probable that Shaw did not understand his condition. He certainly sought out a nomadic experience, despite having family in England. Born in Nottinghamshire in 1886, Harold was one of six children. ²² The whole family were living in East Manchester by 1901, where, aged 16, Shaw was a labourer and painter in the local iron works. ²³ After stints as a van driver and serving with the Seventh Lancashire Artillery Volunteers, Shaw joined the Manchester Police. ²⁴ By the start of 1911 he was married to Florence, with whom he had a three-month old son. ²⁵ Tragedy stuck that summer, when Harry junior died suddenly. ²⁶

Eighteen months later, Shaw was desperate to leave the country. At the start of 1913 he requested a refund of his contributions to the police pension fund to cover his ticket to Australia. He had served in the police for four years and eight months, during which two ‘neglects of duty’ were recorded, the most recent being three months prior to his resignation. ²⁷ Refund duly granted, Shaw left London for Melbourne on the Aberdeen Line’s Themistocles on 30 January 1913. He was unaccompanied by his wife and presented himself as a policeman on the ship’s inventory. ²⁸ Six weeks later, the ship docked in Melbourne, after which Shaw travelled to Hobart, Tasmania. ²⁹ Evidence shows that he joined the police force there, but resigned after six months, which Joseph Stenhouse later believed was health related. ³⁰ Perhaps fortuitously then, Shaw found himself in Hobart in December 1914, just as the Aurora, still missing a third fireman, docked en-route to the Antarctic.

Shackleton’s grand plans to traverse the Antarctic were beset with financial problems before the onset of the First World War reduced the availability of fit and suitable men. ³¹ He reportedly organised the applications of adventure seekers offering assistance into drawers labelled ‘Mad’, ‘Hopeless’ and ‘Possible’. ³² Shackleton managed to recruit most of the Aurora’s officer class from England, including Aeneas Mackintosh, whom he entrusted to captain the mission. The lower deck crew was recruited by Mackintosh in Australia. ³³ The ship itself was barely seaworthy and procured at a bargain price. Built in 1876 as a whaler in Dundee, the Aurora needed significant repairs following its deployment in Douglas Mawson’s Australasian Antarctic Expedition. ³⁴ Mackintosh captained the ship from Hobart to Sydney for refitting. Many of the Aurora’s key personnel, like their ship, were not fully fit for purpose. First officer Joseph Stenhouse was registered as the Aurora’s captain at the Mercantile Marine Office in Sydney because of Mackintosh’s impaired vision. ³⁵ Australian biologist, John Lachlan Cope, despite not being medically qualified, was signed on a ship’s surgeon. ³⁶

In mid-December 1914, behind schedule, the Aurora left for Tasmania. They took on final supplies in Hobart, where the officers entertained the Governor of Tasmania and his wife. ³⁷ Into this chaos stepped two last-minute recruits – Frenchman Emile d’Anglade as ship’s steward, and Shaw for the boiler room. Both were likely attracted to the idea of an adventure by the crew members enjoying their last night out on shore. ³⁸ If Shaw was experienced in this role, he had little time to contemplate the task or consider the state of the Aurora. ³⁹ The last-minute employment of these two men explains their omission from the crew lists in later newspaper reports. ⁴⁰ Under pressure, Mackintosh did not have the time to ascertain their experience and medical suitability, and nor had he done this for the crew members already signed on. ⁴¹

This disregard of suitability, although foolhardy, was not unusual. Obtaining medical clearance for crews signing on in Australian ports was, following the imperial model, non-compulsory. An 1872 review into the state of merchant seamen upheld that the medical suitability of crew was a matter between shipowners and seamen. The British Marine Department did however recommend that men ‘picked up promiscuously’ should be proven ‘fairly sound’. ⁴² Early twentieth-century Australasian legislation reinforced this laissez-faire approach. ⁴³ Ships’ captains could pay local port medical inspectors of seamen to check whether intending crewmembers were fit for duty. ⁴⁴ In practice this rarely happened and it was not uncommon for ships’ masters to appoint a man based on his physique. ⁴⁵ As Tyler-Lewis put it, as a brawny ex-policeman and boxer, Shaw looked capable of stoking the boilers. ⁴⁶ Furthermore, in his late twenties he fit the ideal age category for boiler-room work. ⁴⁷ These traits cancelled out Shaw’s ambiguous past, to the later detriment of himself and his fellows. He joined the ranks of firemen and trimmers already seen as a breed apart from other ranks, and more likely prone to behavioural problems. ⁴⁸ In 1911, ship’s surgeon Dr A. Vavasour Elder described white firemen as malingerers and prone to escalating minor complaints into major ones. ⁴⁹

Shaw’s unsuitability for this role under incredibly arduous conditions soon became apparent. Dog-handler Ernest Joyce initially described the crew as ‘fine fellows’ who ‘became more cheerful as the work got difficult’, but this harmony was not to last. ⁵⁰ Having already shown himself to be ‘rather a nuisance’, Shaw had the first of a series of fits on 13 January. Stenhouse, who held command during the ten-month period in which the Aurora was trapped in the ice-floe, detailed the incidences of Shaw’s fits. ⁵¹ Everyone on board suffered physically and mentally. Mechanic Aubrey Ninnis withdrew to his bunk in a self-described ‘dark spell’. ⁵² Stenhouse privately wrote of the reoccurrence of his ‘old, old curse’, a reference to the alleged ‘nervous breakdown’ he had suffered three years earlier. ⁵³ In these freezing and confined conditions, Shaw’s deterioration was the most obvious. His epilepsy manifested in seizures and somnambulism (sleep-walking), during which he became noisy, violent and unknowingly picked up sharp objects. ⁵⁴

Stenhouse’s response to Shaw being an ‘increasing source of anxiety and trouble to all’ fluctuated between anger and concern. After Shaw attempted to stay awake to avoid ‘fitting’, Stenhouse gave him his own quarters, and had him supervised to prevent self-inflicted injuries. With the de facto doctor, Cope, on shore, Stenhouse provided the crew with medical care and attempted to treat Shaw with ‘tonic pills’, likely a mixture of iron and arsenic from the limited medical supplies. ⁵⁵ However, any sympathy dissipated once the Aurora became free of the ice, meaning that all hands were needed to re-fire the engines. In March 1916, Shaw was suspended for being ‘ignorant and insolent’ and refusing to work. D’Anglade also had enough and resigned outright. ⁵⁶ These disciplinary problems played out just as the Aurora reached safer seas. On 23 March, 14 months after starting their mission, the crew made contact with the outside world via radio signal. Just under two weeks later, a tug provided by the New Zealand government dragged the beleaguered men into Port Chalmers, Dunedin. ⁵⁷

‘A very disjointed family’: The Aurora in Dunedin

The New Zealand public gave the men of the Aurora a hero’s welcome and provided them with luxuries such as fruit, cigarettes and even a hamper containing a full breakfast. ⁵⁸ Stenhouse used the attention to cast a positive light on their experiences. All on board were well, he told reporters, apart from one physical injury, and two cases of neuralgia caused by the intense cold. ⁵⁹ Newspaper editorials repeated this sentiment, likening them to heroes who because they had endured such a mental and physical strain, must have been hand-picked to do so. ⁶⁰ Another article described the returnees as ‘remarkably hale and hearty’, with officers and crew a ‘thoroughly happy family’ drawn together by shared hardships. ⁶¹ The Press reported that this ‘family’ did not seem the worse for their ordeal and instead had the appearance of the crew of any sailing ship arriving from a lengthy voyage. ⁶² Stenhouse sought to capitalise on such reports. When questioned directly as to the crew’s health, he responded that in the main it had been good, with ‘nothing serious to complain of’. ⁶³

This positive spin was soon undermined by the arrest of Shaw and d’Anglade for malingering. ⁶⁴ New Zealand’s Shipping and Seamen Act provided for the punishment of men disobeying orders. The severity of the associated fines or prison sentence depended on whether instances of defiance were reoccurring or based on collusion. ⁶⁵ While jail was common, this punishment was, as Michael Quinlan describes it, a ‘pyrrhic victory’ for authorities. Men were typically released to re-join their ships after a period of being locked up. ⁶⁶ Stenhouse did not want to re-employ Shaw or d’Anglade, neither would the Aurora be ready to return to the Antarctic until the end of the year. He therefore took steps to avoid further adverse publicity. After both men were bailed, Stenhouse’s legal team sought medical advice as to Shaw’s state of mind. ⁶⁷ Subsequently the charges against both men were dropped. Stenhouse’s solicitor explained that although their disobedience had occurred at a crucial time, it had not directly affected the safety of those on board. ⁶⁸ They did not want to convict d’Anglade, a French national and wartime ally, or appear to be persecuting Shaw, whose ‘state of mind’ had been proven suspect. ⁶⁹

The sensationalist New Zealand Truth capitalised on this legal backtracking as evidence that the Aurora bore a very disjointed family. ⁷⁰ Indeed, in private Stenhouse intimated that the only options for these men were the battlefield or deportation. ⁷¹ While d’Anglade volunteered for the war effort, Shaw had no choice in how his ‘in-transit’ state played out. ⁷² The diagnosis of him being ‘mentally deficient’ rendered Shaw a prohibited immigrant and deportable. Just weeks after he was heralded as one of the Aurora’s Antarctic heroes, Shaw returned to Hobart on the Wimmera. ⁷³

The proverbial bad penny

Despite his previous misdemeanours, five months later Shaw was re-employed as a fireman in Hobart on the cargo ship Antiope. This stint proved less successful than his time on the Aurora. A series of unfortunate events led to a further ‘state of transit’ for him, this time played out inside medical institutions. In early September 1916, the Antiope left Hobart for Dunedin, laden with lumber and scrap iron, only to be caught in a heavy storm and grounded off the south coast near Bluff. Newspapers eagerly reported the unfolding drama and the failed attempts to tow the Antiope to safety. ⁷⁴ The crew abandoned their flooded ship and, once on shore, regaled journalists with tales of surviving the ‘hurricane of cyclonic force’. It became clear that one crew member had been injured after being thrown against the capstan. The man in question, now in hospital, was ‘Harry Shaw’, reportedly a member of the Mawson Antarctic expedition. ⁷⁵

Stenhouse, overseeing the Aurora’s repairs in Dunedin, was alarmed by Shaw’s re-emergence. He wrote to his local customs collector to explain that Shaw had been to the Antarctic with his mission, not Mawson’s, after which he had been deported because was found ‘mentally and morally deficient’. Because of the ‘personal trouble and expense’ he had been put to, Stenhouse beseeched the authorities to disallow Shaw’s landing. This man would, he warned, become a ‘danger to the community’. ⁷⁶ This hyperbole was neither practical nor ethical. The legislation used to discipline disobedient seamen also prescribed that medical treatment for their injuries sustained in service be covered by the shipping company with whom they signed articles. ⁷⁷ The port health officer at Bluff allowed Shaw to land for his necessary hospital treatment. The Invercargill customs collector, W. J. Hawley, duly obtained written agreement from the Antiope’s captain to cover Shaw’s ‘wages, expenses of maintenance, medical attendance, passage-money, or burial’. ⁷⁸

Shaw’s medical requirements and costs quickly escalated, creating much confusion between the customs departments as to how to recoup them. When his injuries were being treated in hospital at Invercargill, Shaw’s disruptive tendencies resurfaced, and he was locked in a padded cell. Now deemed ‘insane’, the authorities considered using the Immigration Restriction Act to manage Shaw’s costs and his repatriation. The circumstances of the Antiope’s ‘arrival’ complicated matters further. The Invercargill customs officer sought advice from the Secretary of Customs, W. Montgomery, as to whether Shaw’s ‘shipwrecked’ status exempted him from immigration controls. ⁷⁹ Montgomery chose to circumvent any possible immunity, being more concerned about Shaw’s history. Did he become insane prior to his hospital admission, Montgomery wanted to know, and why had he been previously deported? ⁸⁰

While the customs departments deliberated on such details, Shaw’s state necessitated his asylum admission. The two medical opinions, required under the 1911 Mental Defectives Act for this to occur, associated Shaw’s ‘mental defects’ with epilepsy, and described his delusional and violent behaviour. Dr Stanley Brown witnessed Shaw naked in the padded cell threatening to kill those he suspected of poisoning him. Brown felt the brunt of Shaw’s distress when hit in the face by a piece of wood he had ripped from the cell’s window. Subsequently handcuffed, Shaw did not show any remorse, instead ‘surveying his handiwork with great glee’. When left alone he was prone to using the ‘most vile language’ and shouting ‘Police! Murder’. ⁸¹ Dr William Stewart described Shaw as possibly suicidal and observed him as ‘maniacal, shrieking and of markedly threatening demeanour’. ⁸² Such evidence convinced the magistrates that Shaw was a danger to others. They appointed a police constable to take Shaw to Seacliff Mental Hospital in Dunedin. ⁸³ Such a removal was not facilitated by maritime regulations, but necessitated by medical opinion that Shaw was unfit to remain in the community.

Nonetheless, the customs department petitioned for Shaw’s removal from the country. Montgomery asked his officers at Invercargill and Dunedin whether a ‘bond or guarantee’ existed through which to deal with Shaw, and if so, whether they could arrange for his deportation when sufficiently well. ⁸⁴ This was legally problematic, evident in the unwieldy operations of the Immigration Restriction Act. Bonds were designed to cover maintenance costs for up to five years, not deportation. While repatriation costs were also the responsibility of the master and owner of the ship, a different legal provision accounted for them. ⁸⁵ Neither of these guarantees were in place for Shaw, precisely because of Stenhouse’s previous intervention. The Dunedin customs officials explained that Stenhouse had covered Shaw’s costs as a private matter, after which Shaw had been removed from the Immigration Restriction List. ⁸⁶

In terms of the current situation, the Dunedin office believed it was a matter for their counterparts in Invercargill to seek maintenance from the Antiope’s captain. ⁸⁷ Montgomery accepted this advice and informed Hawley, the Invercargill customs officer, to obtain a £100 bond under the Immigration Restriction Act. ⁸⁸ However, such an undertaking should have been made within 14 days of arrival, the exact date of which was complicated by the circumstances of the Antiope’s grounding. ⁸⁹ While an agreement was in place to cover the costs relating to Shaw’s physical injury, officials were unsure as to how best to proceed with his insanity. Hawley asked the solicitors acting on behalf of the Antiope’s owners, Duncan and McGregor, whether they could now provide a bond. He ended his letter with the hopeful plea, ‘the Wimmera leaves Bluff next Saturday for Australia, will the man go away by her?’ ⁹⁰

Shaw was in no fit state to travel and would remain in Seacliff for nearly two months. His admission notes, dated 27 September, refer to his condition being one of ‘acute mania brought on by alcohol, assisted by shock of accident and subsequent shipwreck’. An X-ray showed that his legs were not broken and his other bodily functions were normal, aside from suspect oral health due to his heavy drinking. Shaw’s delusions continued, him telling asylum staff he had been shot at in Southland Hospital, and sprinkled with chloroform when locked in the cell. ⁹¹ Calmer since being moved there, he acknowledged that his accusations may seem far-fetched, but still asserted that ‘if God Almighty were here he would prove it’. Keeping occupied helped Shaw’s recovery. After working outside in the grounds he was transferred to the asylum’s library and by 5 October was noted as appearing ‘quite sane’. ⁹²

Shaw’s crewmates were ‘enjoying’ a different type of hospitality in the Sailor’s Rest at Bluff, waiting for the fate of their ship to be resolved. ⁹³ Legal wrangling over insurance and culpability for the grounding of the Antiope kept Captain Tellick and his solicitors busy. After the Marine Department determined that the events were accidental, the slow salvage operation led to hopes that the ship would be re-floated. ⁹⁴ Shaw’s maintenance added to these rising overheads. Hawley received notice of the cost relating to Shaw’s first hospital stay. Of a total of nearly £22, £18 accounted for the repairs required to the padded cell. ⁹⁵ No evidence exists that Hawley had been able to acquire a bond for Shaw’s ‘insanity’. The asylum authorities also asked whether Shaw was covered by the Immigration Restriction Act. Otherwise, they informed Hawley, they would need to assess Shaw’s ability to pay, based on the wages due to him from the Antiope. ⁹⁶ This led to further intervention by the solicitors. Duncan and McGregor requested an update from Seacliff as to Shaw’s current condition, aware of the need to deport him as soon as possible. ⁹⁷

By then a month into his stay, Shaw’s nocturnal fits, which he passed off as ‘dreaming’, had materialised again. He continued to make accusations against the Southland staff, and talked of seeing military service in Africa, points recorded by asylum staff as ‘not seeming very truthful’. ⁹⁸ By mid-November, Shaw’s leg was almost mended, and his lucidity returned enough for him to write a letter seeking recompense for his injury. He was hoping to be discharged from ‘this place’ soon, he informed the Invercargill customs department. Could he be paid for the wages or compensation due to him from his Antiope articles, he asked, and be informed as to the ‘best thing to do’? ⁹⁹

The optimum solution for the New Zealand authorities was for Shaw to leave the country. The final entry in Shaw’s asylum records dated 16 November simply note that he was ‘being deported as undesirable immigrant’. ¹⁰⁰ The impetus for this came from the solicitors who informed Hawley of their preparations. They arranged with the Huddart and Parker Company to return Shaw to Hobart from Bluff on the Wimmera, and for an attendant from Seacliff to accompany him to the dock to ensure he boarded. ¹⁰¹ As such, Shaw’s second deportation from New Zealand within the space of six months followed the same route, on the same vessel. The Wimmera arrived into Hobart on 20 November before sailing to Melbourne two days later. ¹⁰² Shaw’s certificate of departure described him as a prohibited immigrant as of 14 September, the reason noted as ‘lunacy’. ¹⁰³ At the time of the Antiope’s problematic arrival, however, Shaw had not shown such symptoms. This means that either Hawley persuaded the shipping company to enter into a ‘backdated’ deportation agreement, or his previous ‘restricted’ status had been reinstated. Neither of these options were proscribed in law. Of Shaw’s accrued medical costs, Duncan and Macgregor paid the Southland Hospital and Charitable Aid the full amount. Whether they, or Shaw himself, covered his asylum stay is unknown. Filling the ‘archival silence’ here with speculation, it is likely that he did, using the three months wages owed to him.

Although Shaw had recovered enough to travel, his previous two ships remained immobile. By the end of November, most of the Antiope’s cargo of timber had been salvaged, raising hopes for its re-floating. ¹⁰⁴ This occurred a month later, after which it was tugged to Port Chalmers for repairs, just missing the Aurora, which left for the Antarctic on 20 December. ¹⁰⁵ Shackleton himself arrived in Dunedin that month to join the rescue mission. The remaining survivors of the Ross Sea Party were picked up on 10 January 1917, and returned to Dunedin a month later.

Between Christmas and February, the Antiope was in dry dock for a full overhaul and was fitted with new plates and frames, re-caulked, repainted and re-rigged. ¹⁰⁶ By the end of March, it was seaworthy and expected to depart for New South Wales, then to the west coast of South America, destinations which remained unconfirmed due to war restrictions on publicising shipping routes. ¹⁰⁷ This news blackout did not prevent the loss of the Aurora which, after the rescue mission, returned to its original usage. It departed Newcastle, New South Wales in March 1917 carrying coal to Chile, but was reported missing three months later, presumed sunk by a German mine. ¹⁰⁸

The rover returns

Shaw had left Australia by that point. By April 1917 he was back in England, and recovered enough to regale journalists about his Antarctic experiences. Whether Shaw returned to his wife Florence is unknown. Of the personal details listed on his asylum admission paperwork he was noted as married. ¹⁰⁹ Later reports of his life in England refer to blood relatives only. Whether due to ‘delusions’, or a conscious attempt to boost his profile, Shaw romanticised his experiences. In one of his first interviews with the British press, he misrepresented the time at which the tug boat appeared from Dunedin to rescue the Aurora, thinking them still trapped in Antarctic waters. Of those arduous times, he recalled playing sports on the ice and processing sealskins to sell later, a plan which proved futile. In this English spring, Shaw was pleased to report that he had not felt cold since being back and made no mention of the frostbite he later blamed for his inability to work. ¹¹⁰ He re-joined the Manchester police in May, which proved short-lived. After five days he resigned, the reason for this not listed in the police’s personnel register. ¹¹¹

Despite not receiving any official recognition for his time on the Aurora, Shaw continued to seek it. Shackleton did not recommend him, or d’Anglade, for the bronze polar medal, which was awarded to the rest of the Ross Sea Party in February 1918. ¹¹² In his chronicle of the expedition, published the following year, Shackleton alluded to this snub. He noted that the Aurora was short-handed on its voyage to Dunedin and ‘one or two of the men were creating additional difficulties’. ¹¹³ This slight did not deter Shaw. After the Aurora was confirmed as lost, he portrayed himself as the ‘only survivor’, enlisting benevolent societies in Manchester to help his case. ¹¹⁴ He asked the local office of the National Relief Fund to help him apply for ‘awards due to him from the ship’ because he was now unable to follow his usual occupation. His claim unravelled after the Shipping and Seamen Record Office could not confirm him as the last remaining crew member. They ascertained that the current owners of the Aurora held no records about her before March 1917. ¹¹⁵ Shaw admitted that he had been signed off before that date in New Zealand, after which the ‘others set sail again and the ship was afterwards lost’. These recollections, possibly part of his delusional tendencies, were shown to be more doubtful after charity workers investigated further. They found Shaw absent from home, which his father attributed to his ‘roving disposition’, and a tendency to keep his affairs to himself. These reports, the workers concluded, were not ‘particularly satisfactory’. ¹¹⁶

Shaw’s troubled state, and his penchant for drinking, drew him into frequent contact with his former employers, the Manchester police force. In September 1921, he was arrested after causing a scene in the city centre. He declared that he was the brother of Fatty Arbuckle, the infamous American film star, recently accused of murdering Hollywood starlet Virginia Rappe. Testament to his strength and stature, a police constable was forced to use ju-jitsu methods in arresting Shaw, who argued in court that his behaviour was caused by frost-bite. These claims were dismissed by the judge who fined him 20 shillings for being drunk and disorderly. ¹¹⁷ The following year, when charged with stealing money from an open till, Shaw claimed that he was leaning on the counter to rest his damaged legs. He told the court that he was only able to make a living by retelling his Polar adventures, a claim to fame that did not save him from a one-month prison sentence. ¹¹⁸

Shaw subsequently attempted to seek recognition elsewhere – in Hull. Refused permission to go on stage at the Metropole Theatre to relate his Antarctic experiences to the audience, he was fined for disorderly behaviour. ¹¹⁹ By the end of 1922 he was back in the Manchester Police Court on a further charge of theft. On this occasion, Shaw’s siblings got involved. His brother appealed for leniency, alluding to Shaw’s worsening epilepsy, which rendered him unware of what he was doing and increasingly liable to fall down stairs. The magistrate agreed to remand Shaw in Strangeways Prison for medical assessment. In the interim, using money left to help him by one of his sisters, Shaw’s remaining family paid for legal representation and an independent medical report. ¹²⁰ With the medical evidence as to whether Shaw was aware of his crimes contradictory, the family’s legal representative requested an adjournment. The family were, he explained, considering putting Shaw in an ‘epileptic home’. The magistrate conceded that, even with his history of convictions, Shaw should not be sent to prison. ¹²¹ After this 1923 court case there is little evidence about Shaw’s life. ¹²² Within ten years, aged 47, he was dead. Listed as a ‘general labourer’ with an address in central Manchester, he died of a subdual (brain) haemorrhage caused by epilepsy. ¹²³ The clinical details of Shaw’s demise do not account for the turbulent, adventure-seeking character of his life.

Conclusion

Harold Shaw’s death certificate provides a sad postscript to the bureaucratic sources that recorded the times he stepped outside the ‘accepted forms of behaviour’. This article shows that such evidence is essential to the stories of seamen who experienced multiple periods of transit between the jurisdictions of land and sea-based authorities. Framing Shaw’s experiences on the Aurora and the Antiope through the lens of maritime regulations answers the call to learn about the ‘experiences of indefinite maritime transit, uncertain or thwarted arrivals, and unceremonious involuntary departures’. ¹²⁴ His reported episodes of disobedience and ill-health were the reasons behind the attempts by authorities to thwart his mobility. Although allowed to land, Shaw was prevented from staying. Using the porous regulations pertaining to restricting the ‘undesirable’, local government, medical and shipping officials colluded to have Shaw expelled from New Zealand.

Harold Shaw’s maritime experiences involved periods of transit between ships, land, and medical institutions. This article has highlighted the legal frameworks behind such a fractured existence as a futher indicator of the precarious nature of maritime employment. It has shown Shaw to have faced challenges way beyond those of his time with the Ross Sea Party, and substantiated his diagnosis of epilepsy. By accounting for Shaw’s life before and after his time in the Antarctic, this article has shown that seamen ‘in-transit’ like him, experienced multiple sites of internment. His life speaks of a lack of belonging, and a transitory existence caused, in part, by fluctating medical conditions. While Harold Shaw sought to benefit from the opportunities to be mobile, ultimately he remained separated from the norms of both land and sea-based life.