CHAPTER XXX
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.
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.