On October 26, 1914, Ernest Shackleton’s Endurance set sail from Buenos Aires in pursuit of the last unclaimed prize in exploration: the crossing of the Antarctic continent. The crew stood on deck to watch the city fade away. All but one. Eighteen-year-old Perce Blackborow hid below in a locker. But the thrill of stowing away with the legendary explorer would soon turn to fear. Within months, the Endurance, trapped and crushed by ice, sank. And even Perce, the youngest member of the stranded crew, knew there was no hope of rescue. If the men were to survive in the most hostile place on earth, they would have to do it on their own. Victoria McKernan deftly weaves the hard-to-fathom facts of this famous voyage into an epic, edge-of-your-seat survival novel. Victoria McKernan  is the acclaimed author of  The Devil’s Paintbox  and  Shackleton’s Stowaway , a historical novel for young adults about the 18-year-old stowaway on Ernest Shackleton’s 1914 expedition to the South Pole. She has also written four novels for adults. She lives in Washington, DC, with a dog, two cats, and one boa constrictor. Just then the door swung open and a frowning man peered into the dark interior. He looked sea-roughened, but not like a common sailor. Someone with rank. A bosun at least, maybe an officer. When he saw the two drunkards, he strode up to their table. "You buggers! I've better things to do than search all over the docks for you." "Ah, Mr. Greenstreet!" The talkative one smiled stupidly. "Come and join us for a pint!" "You were gone all night. You missed your watch." The sleeping man picked up his head and squinted at the daylight. "You're both sacked," Greenstreet went on. "You can come pick up your kit until three. After that I'll have it put out on the dock." "Oh, come on, sir, you wouldn't short a man his wee bit of fun." The talkative man was almost whining. "We've been two months at sea!" The other man just glared silently. "See Mr. Cheetham to get paid off." "Paid off, eh?" The second man pulled himself slowly up from the table. He was over six feet tall and looked like he could pull up whole trees with one thick arm. He let out a string of curses. Perce hoped the woman sweeping the floor didn't understand English. The big man threw a punch. It was fast but sloppy. Greenstreet ducked most of it. Chairs scraped and glasses clinked all over the cantina as men cleared back out of the way. "Should we help him out?" Perce asked tentatively. Perce didn't want his friend to think he was shy of fighting. "Well, let's give the man his chance." "But it's two on one, and they're twice his size." "Watch. He might know what he's doing." Billy was right. This man Greenstreet knew how to let a man blow off a bit and not get crazy and not get anyone hurt. It turned out to be hardly a fight at all. A little shoving, a lot of swearing. Then two Spanish men came out from behind the bar. One had a stick, the other a sock with lead pellets in the toe. The two drunk sailors backed off. Everything went back to normal. "Don't bother the others when you come for your things." Greenstreet gave them a disgusted look and left. "Come on." Perce grabbed his duffel bag. "Where you going? I haven't finished my beer." "Didn't you hear the man? There's two places just opened on a ship!" "Well, for a raw pup you've got some wits after all," Billy said as he gulped the last swallow. Perce and Billy grabbed their kit and hurried outside. The man walked fast and was half a block away before they caught up to him. "Sir--Mr., uh, Greenstreet--sir," Billy called out. The man turned. "I'm William Bakewell. This is Perce Blackborow. We lost our ship in Montevideo. She ran aground," he added in case the man might think they had been fired themselves. "You'll be needing some new hands." Greenstreet gave them a quick look-over. "Experience?" Bakewell explained that he had experience with both sail and steam. No navigation to speak of, but he could keep a course. He mentioned his two last ships, craftily avoiding the fact that they were his only two ships. "And you?" Greenstreet turned to Perce. Next to Billy, he had little to offer. There were a hundred men within shouting distance with more skill and experience. "Ordinary seaman, sir," he said quietly. "Very willing." chapter two "Ernest Shackleton!" Perce said excitedly. "What I'd give just to meet him!" When Greenstreet had told them exactly what they were applying for, Perce could hardly believe it. The Imperial Trans-Antarctic Expedition, under the command of Sir Ernest Shackleton. Billy hadn't heard much about Shackleton, although he was a legend in England. "So he's the guy that didn't make it to the South Pole?" "Well, yes, but--" "And the Brit that did make it--what's his name?" "Robert Scott," Perce reminded him. "Yeah, Scott, he died on the way back, right?" "Yes, but--" "And that Norwegian guy--Amundsen. He actually got there and came back alive. So he won the race." "There's more to it tha