THE RETURN TO NEW ZEALAND
The _Nimrod_, with Professor David, Mawson and Mackay aboard, got back
to winter quarters on February 11 and landed Mawson. No news had been
heard of the Southern Party, and the depot party, commanded by Joyce,
was still out. On February 20 it was found that the depot party had
reached Hut Point, and had not seen Marshall, Adams, Wild or myself. My
instructions had provided that if we had not returned from our journey
toward the South Pole by February 25, a party was to be landed at Hut
Point with a team of dogs, and on March 1 a search-party was to go
south. Murray, who was in command of the expedition during my absence,
was in no way responsible for the failure of that party to be landed,
and obeyed faithfully my full instructions.
All arrangements being completed, most of the members of the expedition
went ashore at Cape Royds to get their property packed in readiness for
departure. The ship left Cape Royds on the 21st, and was lying under
Glacier Tongue when I arrived at Hut Point with Wild on February 28,
and after I had been landed with the relief party in order that Adams
and Marshall might be brought in, the ship went to Cape Royds so that
the remaining members of the shore-party and some specimens and stores
might be taken on board.
The _Nimrod_ anchored a short distance from the shore, and two boats
were launched. As everything had to be lowered by ropes over the cliff
into the boats, the work of embarkation took some time, but by 6 A.M.
on March 2 only the men and dogs remained to be taken on board.
A stiff breeze was blowing, and by the time the dogs had one by one
been lowered into the boats, the wind had freshened to blizzard force,
and the sea had begun to run dangerously. The waves had deeply undercut
the ice-cliff, leaving a projecting shelf.
One boat, in charge of Davis, succeeded in reaching the ship, but a
second boat, heavily laden with men and dogs, was less fortunate, and
before it had gone many yards from the shore an oar broke.
The _Nimrod_, owing to the severity of the storm was forced to slip her
moorings and steam from the bay, and an attempt to float a buoy to the
boat was not successful.
Consequently Harbord and his men were in great danger, for they
could not get out of the bay owing to the force of the sea, and the
projecting shelf of ice threatened disaster if they approached the
shore. Flying spray had encased the men in ice, and their hands were
numb and frozen.
At the end of an hour they managed to make fast to a line stretched
from an anchor a few yards from the cliff, the men who had remained on
shore pulling this line taut.
Their position was still dangerous, but eventually the men and dogs
were all safely hauled up the slippery ice-face before the boat sank.
Hot drinks were soon ready for them in the hut, and although the
temperature was low and nearly all the bedding had been sent on board,
they were thankful enough to have escaped with their lives.
On the following morning (March 3) the ship came back to Cape Royds,
and having got all the men and dogs aboard, went back to the Glacier
Tongue anchorage to wait for the relief party.
About ten o'clock that same night Mackintosh was on deck talking to
some other members of the expedition, when he suddenly became excited
and said, "I feel that Shackleton has arrived at Hut Point." He was
very anxious that the ship should proceed to the Point, but no one paid
much attention to him, and Dunlop advised him, if he was so sure about
it, to go aloft and look for a signal. Accordingly Mackintosh went
aloft, and immediately seeing our flare at Hut Point the ship left at
once, and by 2 A.M. on March 4 the entire expedition was safe on board.
If we were to try to complete our work there was no time to be lost,
for the season was far advanced and the condition of the ice was
already a matter of anxiety. But as I was very eager to undertake
exploration with the ship to the westward towards Adelie Land, with
the idea of mapping the coast-line in that direction, I gave orders to
steam north, and in a very short time we were under way.
First of all, I wished to round Cape Armitage and pick up some
geological specimens and gear that had been left at Pram Point, but
young ice was forming over the sea, and it was evident that we had
scarcely an hour to waste if we were not to spend a second winter in
the Antarctic.
Having brought the _Nimrod_ right alongside the pressure ice at Pram
Point, Mackintosh at once landed with a small party, and as soon as
they returned we steamed north again.
On passing our winter quarters at Cape Royds we all turned out to give
three cheers, and to take a last look at the place where, in spite of
discomforts and hardships, we had spent so many happy days. We watched
the little hut, which had been our home for a year that must always
live in our memories, fade away in the distance with feelings almost
of sadness, and there were few men aboard who did not cherish a hope
that some day they might again live strenuous days under the shadow of
mighty Erebus.
I left at the winter quarters on Cape Royds a supply of stores
sufficient to last fifteen men for one year, for the changes and
chances of life in the Antarctic are such that this supply might be
most valuable to some future expedition. The hut was locked up and the
key hung where it might easily be found, and we re-adjusted the lashing
of our home so that it might withstand the fury of many blizzards.
There our hut stands waiting to be used, and containing everything
necessary to sustain life.
I was anxious to pick up some geological specimens left on Depot
Island, but as the wind had freshened to a gale, and we were passing
through streams of ice, it was too risky to chance even a short delay,
and consequently I gave instructions that the course should be altered
to due north.
My object was to push between the Balleny Islands and the mainland, and
to make an attempt to follow the coast line from Cape Nort westward,
so as to link up with. Adelie Land. No ship had ever succeeded in
penetrating to the westward of Cape North, heavy pack having been
encountered on the occasion of each attempt. In our attempt we did not
manage to do all that I hoped, but all the same we had the satisfaction
of pushing our little vessel along that coast to longitude 166° 14′
East, latitude 69° 47′ South, a point farther west than had been
reached by any previous expedition.
On the morning of March 8 we saw, beyond Cape North, a new coast-line
extending first to the southwards and then to the west for a distance
of over 45 miles, and Professor David was of opinion that it was the
northern edge of the polar plateau.
Gladly would we have explored this coast but that was impossible, for
the ice was getting thicker and thicker, and it was imperative that we
should escape to clear water without delay.
I still, however, hoped that we might skirt the Balleny Islands and
find Wilkes Land, but about midnight on March 9 I saw that we must go
north, and the course was set in that direction.
As it was we were almost too late, and the situation looked black
indeed when we were held up by the ice, and the ship was quite unable
to move. Fortunately we found a lane through which progress could be
made, and by the afternoon of the 10th we were in fairly open water.
Our troubles were ended, for we had a good voyage to New Zealand, and
on March 22 we dropped anchor at the mouth of Lord's river on the south
side of Stewart Island. I did not go to a port because I wished to get
the news of the expedition's work through to London before we faced the
energetic newspaper men.
That day in March was a wonderful one to all of us. For over a year we
had seen nothing but rocks, ice, snow and sea. No green growth had
gladdened our eyes, no musical notes of birds had come to our ears. No
man who has not spent a period of his life in those "stark and sullen
solitudes that sentinel the Pole" will understand fully what trees, and
flowers, and running streams mean to the soul of a man. We landed on
the stretch of beach that separated the sea from the luxuriant growth
of the forest, and scampered about like children in the sheer joy of
being alive.
Early next morning we hove up the anchor, and at 10 A.M. we entered
Half Moon Bay. There I went ashore, and having despatched my cablegrams
from the little office I went on board again and ordered the course to
be set for Lyttelton, the port from which we had sailed on the first
day of the previous year, and we arrived there on March 25 late in the
afternoon.
The people of New Zealand would have welcomed us, I think, whatever
had been the result of our efforts, for since the early days of the
_Discovery_ expedition their keen interest in Antarctic exploration has
never faltered, and their attitude towards us was always that of warm
personal friendship.
But the news of the measure of success we had achieved had been
published in London and flashed back to the southern countries, and
we were met out in the harbour and on the wharves by cheering crowds.
Enthusiastic friends boarded the _Nimrod_ almost as soon as she entered
the heads, and when our gallant little vessel came alongside the quay
the crowd on deck became so great that movement was almost impossible.
Then I was handed great bundles of letters and cablegrams. The loved
one at home were well, the world was pleased with our work, and it
seemed as though nothing but joy and happiness could ever enter life
again.
[Illustration: Emperor Penguin. (_See page 238_)]