When we reached Husvik that Sunday morning we were warmly greeted by the magistrate (Mr. Bernsten), whom I knew of old, and the other members of the little community.  Moored in the harbour was one of the largest of the whalers, the ‘Southern Sky’, owned by an English company but now laid up for the winter.  I had no means of getting into communication with the owners without dangerous delay, and on my accepting all responsibility Mr. Bernsten made arrangements for me to take this ship down to Elephant Island.  I wrote out an agreement with Lloyd’s for the insurance of the ship.  Captain Thom, an old friend of the Expedition, happened to be in Husvik with his ship, the ‘Orwell’, loading oil for use in Britain’s munition works, and he at once volunteered to come with us in any capacity.  I asked him to come as captain of the ‘Southern Sky’.  There was no difficulty about getting a crew.  The whalers were eager to assist in the rescue of men in distress.  They started work that Sunday to prepare and stow the ship.  Parts of the engines were ashore, but willing hands made light labour.  I purchased from the station stores all the stores and equipment required, including special comforts for the men we hoped to rescue, and by Tuesday morning the ‘Southern Sky’ was ready to sail.  I feel it is my duty as well as my pleasure to thank here the Norwegian whalers of South Georgia for the sympathetic hands they stretched out to us in our need.  Among memories of kindness received in many lands sundered by the seas, the recollection of the hospitality and help given to me in South Georgia ranks high.  There is a brotherhood of the sea.  The men who go down to the sea in ships, serving and suffering, fighting their endless battle against the caprice of wind and ocean, bring into their own horizons the perils and troubles of their brother sailormen.

The ‘Southern Sky’ was ready on Tuesday morning, and at nine o’clock we steamed out of the bay, while the whistles of the whaling-station sounded a friendly farewell.  We had forgathered aboard Captain Thom’s ship on the Monday night with several whaling captains who were bringing up their sons to their own profession.  They were “old stagers” with faces lined and seamed by the storms of half a century, and they were even more interested in the story of our voyage from Elephant Island than the younger generation was.  They congratulated us on having accomplished a remarkable boat journey.  I do not wish to belittle our success with the pride that apes humility.  Under Providence we had overcome great difficulties and dangers, and it was pleasant to tell the tale to men who knew those sullen and treacherous southern seas.

McCarthy, McNeish, and Vincent had been landed on the Monday afternoon.  They were already showing some signs of increasing strength under a regime of warm quarters and abundant food.  The carpenter looked woefully thin after he had emerged from a bath.  He must have worn a lot of clothes when he landed from the boat, and I did not realize how he had wasted till I saw him washed and changed.  He was a man over fifty years of age, and the strain had told upon him more than upon the rest of us.  The rescue came just in time for him.