At 5 a.m. we were at the foot of the rocky spurs of the range.  We were tired, and the wind that blew down from the heights was chilling us.  We decided to get down under the lee of a rock for a rest.  We put our sticks and the adze on the snow, sat down on them as close to one another as possible, and put our arms round each other.  The wind was bringing a little drift with it and the white dust lay on our clothes.  I thought that we might be able to keep warm and have half an hour’s rest this way.  Within a minute my two companions were fast asleep.  I realized that it would be disastrous if we all slumbered together, for sleep under such conditions merges into death.  After five minutes I shook them into consciousness again, told them that they had slept for half an hour, and gave the word for a fresh start.  We were so stiff that for the first two or three hundred yards we marched with our knees bent.  A jagged line of peaks with a gap like a broken tooth confronted us.  This was the ridge that runs in a southerly direction from Fortuna Bay, and our course eastward to Stromness lay across it.  A very steep slope led up to the ridge and an icy wind burst through the gap.

We went through the gap at 6 a.m. with anxious hearts as well as weary bodies.  If the farther slope had proved impassable our situation would have been almost desperate; but the worst was turning to the best for us.  The twisted, wave-like rock formations of Husvik Harbour appeared right ahead in the opening of dawn.  Without a word we shook hands with one another.  To our minds the journey was over, though as a matter of fact twelve miles of difficult country had still to be traversed.  A gentle snow-slope descended at our feet towards a valley that separated our ridge from the hills immediately behind Husvik, and as we stood gazing Worsley said solemnly, “Boss, it looks too good to be true!” Down we went, to be checked presently by the sight of water 2500 ft. below.  We could see the little wave-ripples on the black beach, penguins strutting to and fro, and dark objects that looked like seals lolling lazily on the sand.  This was an eastern arm of Fortuna Bay, separated by the ridge from the arm we had seen below us during the night.  The slope we were traversing appeared to end in a precipice above this beach.  But our revived spirits were not to be damped by difficulties on the last stage of the journey, and we camped cheerfully for breakfast.  Whilst Worsley and Crean were digging a hole for the lamp and starting the cooker I climbed a ridge above us, cutting steps with the adze, in order to secure an extended view of the country below.  At 6.30 a.m.  I thought I heard the sound of a steam-whistle.  I dared not be certain, but I knew that the men at the whaling-station would be called from their beds about that time.  Descending to the camp I told the others, and in intense excitement we watched the chronometer for seven o’clock, when the whalers