“Wild put a pick through our last remaining tin of petrol, and soaking coats, mitts, and socks with it, carried them to the top of Penguin Hill at the end of our spit, and soon, they were ablaze.

“Meanwhile most of us had gathered on the foreshore watching with anxious eyes for any signs that the ship had seen us, or for any answering signals.  As we stood and gazed she seemed to turn away as if she had not seen us.  Again and again we cheered, though our feeble cries could certainly not have carried so far.  Suddenly she stopped, a boat was lowered, and we could recognize Sir Ernest’s figure as he climbed down the ladder.  Simultaneously we burst into a cheer, and then one said to the other, ‘Thank God, the Boss is safe.’  For I think that his safety was of more concern to us than was our own.

“Soon the boat approached near enough for the Boss, who was standing up in the bows, to shout to Wild, ‘Are you all well?’ To which he replied, ‘All safe, all well,’ and we could see a smile light up the Boss’s face as he said, ‘Thank God!’

“Before he could land he threw ashore handsful of cigarettes and tobacco; and these the smokers, who for two months had been trying to find solace in such substitutes as seaweed, finely chopped pipe-bowls, seal meat, and sennegrass, grasped greedily.

“Blackborrow, who could not walk, had been carried to a high rock and propped up in his sleeping-bag, so that he could view the wonderful scene.

“Soon we were tumbling into the boat, and the Chilian sailors, laughing up at us, seemed as pleased at our rescue as we were.  Twice more the boat returned, and within an hour of our first having sighted the boat we were heading northwards to the outer world from which we had had no news since October 1914, over twenty-two months before.  We are like men awakened from a long sleep.  We are trying to acquire suddenly the perspective which the rest of the world has acquired gradually through two years of war.  There are many events which have happened of which we shall never know.

“Our first meal, owing to our weakness and the atrophied state of our stomachs, proved disastrous to a good many.  They soon recovered though.  Our beds were just shake-downs on cushions and settees, though the officer on watch very generously gave up his bunk to two of us.  I think we got very little sleep that night.  It was just heavenly to lie and listen to the throb of the engines, instead of to the crack of the breaking floe, the beat of the surf on the ice-strewn shore, or the howling of the blizzard.

“We intend to keep August 30 as a festival for the rest of our lives.”

You readers can imagine my feelings as I stood in the little cabin watching my rescued comrades feeding.

CHAPTER XIII

THE ROSS SEA PARTY