Of the animals, strange to say the Shetland ponies, Jack and Gill, had been least affected, while Wallace had returned hungry, Nick and Nora standing by delightedly as he ate the food prepared for him. The Newfoundland, as soon as he had finished, proposed a romp round the decks. Wallace tried, but soon lay down to rest and pant.
“Another day, I hope,” the honest Collie appealed, “but somehow I feel a little tired.”
When the good old Walrus was sawn out of her quarters and got into blue water again, with all and everything on board, and when the Sea Elephant lay quiet and still on the calm blue sea, a dinner was given on board the flagship.
The blessing asked by good Captain Walt was a prayer of thanks to the Almighty Power that had guided them through their trials, through sickness, danger, and difficulty.
I think all hands, fore and aft, who partook in the festivities, were just a little great-hearted at first, but all sadness was soon dispelled.
They had all done their duties bravely and well, as British and American sailors and soldiers always do.
So upon the whole a very happy evening was spent, the thought that next day they would bear up once more for the shores of Merrie England—England, home, and beauty—put life and spirit in them, and they retired at last, happy and hopeful.
I don’t think that any one on board the Walrus or Sea Elephant is ever likely to forget the sweetness of that Antarctic summer morning—the morning of the start. The sea with its beauty-tints of opal and blue, a sea studded with the snow-white of tiny bergs, the great mountains towering skywards, and the world, the marvellous world, of bird-life.
Do you know that, great though their sufferings and hardships had been, every one looked back to the scene of their adventures with just a little feeling akin to sorrow!