My soul was starving too, and whether it was the altitude (now 11,000 ft.) that was getting into my head, and giving me that draught in the brain which only travellers in frozen regions know, or the Power higher than Nature which speaks to a man in great solitudes when life is low, I cannot say, but as God is my witness, I was hearing again the voices of my dear ones so far away.

Sometimes they were the voices of my old people in Ellan, but more frequently, and most importunately, it was Mary’s voice, calling me by my name, and crying to me for help as if she were in the shadow of some threatening danger.

“Martin!  Martin!  Martin!”

When this idea took clear possession of me—­it was about three a.m. and the hurricane was yowling like a wounded dog—­the answering thought came quick.  I must go back.  No matter at what cost or sacrifice—­I must go back.

It was in vain I reflected that the trouble which threatened my darling (whatever it was, and I thought I knew) might be all over before I reached her side—­I must go back.

And even when I reminded myself that I was within twenty days’ march of that last point of my journey which was to be the crown and completion of it all, I also remembered that my dear one was calling me, and I had no choice but to obey.

Next morning, in the first light of the dim Antarctic glow, I crept out of my snow hut to look south with powerful glasses in order to make sure that there was no reason why I should change my mind.

There was none.  Although the snow had ceased the blizzard was blowing a hundred miles an hour in cutting gusts, so with a bleeding heart (and yet a hot one) I told Treacle to call rip our company, and when they stood round me in the shelter of my hut I said: 

“Shipmates, I have been thinking things over during the night, and I see them differently now.  Nature is stronger than man, and the nature that is inside of us sometimes hits us harder than that which is without.  I think it is that way with us here, and I believe there isn’t a man of you who wouldn’t go forward with me if he had nobody to think of except himself. . . .  Well, perhaps I have somebody to think of, too, so we’ll stick together, shipmates, and whatever regrets there may be, or disappointments, or heart-breakings, we’ll . . . we’ll go back home.”

I think it says something for the mettle my men were made of that there was never a cheer after I said that, for they could see what it cost me to say it.  But by God, there was a shout when I added: 

“We’ve drawn a blank this time, boys, but we’ll draw a winner yet, and I ask you to swear that you’ll come back with me next year, please God, to finish the work we’ve begun.”

Then we gripped hands in that desolate place, and took our solemn oath, and God knows we meant to keep it.

It did not take long to strike camp, I can tell you.  The men were bustling about like boys and we had nothing to think of now but the packing of the food and the harnessing of the dogs and ponies, for we were leaving everything else behind us.