THE FINAL STAGE
Early on the morning of the 23rd we broke camp, and in a few hours Wild
saw the Bluff depot miraged up. It seemed to be quite close, and the
flags were waving and dancing, as though to say, "Come, here I am; come
and feed!"
It was indeed a cheerful sight for weary and hungry men, and directly
we saw it we devoured the few biscuits we still possessed.
At 4 P.M. we reached this haven, and found that Joyce and his party
had done their work splendidly; and I, climbing to the top of it, told
those below of the glorious feeds awaiting us. Luxuries there were in
plenty: Carlsbad plums, cakes, eggs, plum puddings, and even fresh
boiled mutton from the ship. Apart, however, from these luxuries there
was an ample supply of ordinary sledging rations, so that we were safe
from a want of food, and had only to get back to the ship.
With what thankfulness we set upon our provisions those who have
not suffered from want and hunger cannot imagine. Suddenly we found
ourselves with meals fit for the gods, and with appetites that the gods
might have envied. Our contracted bodies, however, would not stand
the strain of much food, but I cannot express the relief it was to
know that we had only to stretch our hands to touch food, even if we
could not eat it. I lay writing in my bag that night with biscuits and
chocolate and jam beside me. I dare say this reminds the reader of a
greedy schoolboy; but it is true, and I see no reason to think that it
was anything but perfectly natural.
At the Bluff we did not receive much news of the _Nimrod_, except that
Evans, who had towed us down in the _Koonya_, was now in command of it;
and we heard nothing of either the northern or the western party.
Now our main object was to get back to the ship before she was
compelled to sail, and full of hope we proceeded on our way during the
24th.
On the following day, however, Marshall was attacked by paralysis
of the stomach and renewed dysentery, and as a blizzard was blowing
we decided to lie in our bags and wait. These misfortunes were
particularly distressing, for it was absolutely necessary to push on if
we were to catch the _Nimrod_. According to orders, the ship might very
possibly leave on March 1 if the Sound was not clear of ice, and we had
already arrived at February 26 in a year which unhappily was not Leap
Year.
On the 26th we did manage to do twenty-four miles, but although
Marshall never complained, he suffered severely, and as his dysentery
was getting worse and worse, I decided, on the afternoon of the 27th,
to leave him in the care of Adams, and to push ahead with Wild.
My hope was that we should pick up a relief party at the ship, and so
we hurried on with no sleep and with the briefest stoppages for meals,
until we had been marching for nearly twenty-four hours.
By this time our food was finished, and naturally we were very tired,
but although we kept on flashing the heliograph in the hope of
attracting attention from Observation Hill, where I thought a party
would be' on the look-out, there was no return flash.
Still, there was nothing to do except to push ahead, and once we
thought that we saw a party coming over to meet us, but to our sorrow
the "party" turned out to be a group of penguins at the ice edge.
At 2.30 P.M. we sighted open water ahead, but the weather had suddenly
become so thick that it was impossible to see far, and our arrival at
the ice edge was quite sudden and unexpected. The ice was swaying up
and down so warningly that to continue on that course was to run grave
risk of being carried out, so we decided to follow another route, seven
miles round by the other side of Castle Rock.
[Illustration: Return journey of the Southern Party: at the Bluff
Depot. (_See page 159_)]
At last, after what seemed a never-ending struggle, we reached Castle
Rock, from whence we could see that there was open water all round
the north. Indeed, it was a different home-coming from the one we had
anticipated.
Often on the Barrier and up on the plateau our thoughts had turned to
the day when we should return to winter quarters, but never had we
imagined that we should have to fight our way to the back door, so to
speak, in such a cheerless fashion.
At 7.45 P.M. we reached the top of Ski Slope, and from there both the
hut and the bay could be seen. But no sign of the ship could we find,
and no trace of life could be seen at the hut.
With our minds full of gloomy possibilities, we hurried on to the hut,
and discovered that every one had gone away.
A letter had been left for us stating that all the parties had been
picked up except ours, and that the ship would be sheltering under
Glacier Tongue until February 26. As it was already February 28 there
is no need to say how distressed we were at this new development of the
situation. For if the ship was gone, both the plight of the two men out
on the Barrier and of ourselves was a most serious one.
That was a bad night for Wild and myself, for although we were able
to have a good meal, we had left our sleeping-bags behind, and had to
wrap pieces of roofing-felt round us in our attempts to keep warm. Our
efforts were neither successful in that direction nor in that of trying
to signal for help. For we could not get the magnetic hut to light, and
we were so tired and cold that when we endeavoured to tie up the Union
Jack on the hill the knots were too much for us.
In the morning, however, we managed to make both of these signals, and
all our fears vanished with one glad swoop when we saw the ship in the
distance.
At 11 A.M. on March 1 we were once more on board the _Nimrod_, and I
will not attempt to describe the load which was suddenly lifted from
my shoulders, or the reception we received from our friends who had
given us up for lost, and who on that same day were going to send out a
search-party in the hope of finding some traces of us.
The ship brought us nothing but good news from the outside world, and I
found that every member of the Expedition was well, and that the work
laid down had been accomplished.
The immediate thing, however, to do was not to delay over these
splendid reports, but to bring in Adams and Marshall; and in the
afternoon I started off again from the Barrier edge with Mackay, Mawson
and McGillan, leaving Wild on the _Nimrod_.
We found that Marshall's health had been improved by the rest, but the
march renewed the attack, and it was with feelings of great relief that
we at length got him back to winter quarters and put him to bed.
By 1 A.M. on March 4 we were all once more safe on board the _Nimrod_;
but Adams, after surviving all the dangers of the interior of the
Antarctic continent, was nearly lost within sight of safety. Owing to
the fact that he was wearing new finnesko he slipped at the ice edge,
and only just managed to save himself from going over, and to hang on
until he was rescued by a party from the ship. He had begun with a
painful accident and nearly finished with a fatal one.
* * * * *
The Southern Party were in safety once more, but how often and often we
were almost hopeless of ever making our way back to the ship I cannot
say. We had taken our lives in our own hands, and God had preserved
them. Perils from starvation, disease, and sudden death had surrounded
us, and as we had learned to know what it is to suffer and to endure,
we had also learned what it is to feel supremely grateful for mercy and
for guidance.