On Wednesday, the 15th, they commenced their slow progress once more through the bush. The serious nature of their situation was only dawning on them at this time, and finding no house, nor any traces of dogs, they began thinking their minds had been playing them tricks.
No food whatever was available, so they had to make their two remaining pigeons last indefinitely, not knowing when they would reach civilization.
As their strength was waning, the oldest man of the party had discarded nearly all his clothes keeping only his flying suit and underclothes. He was nearly “all in” and kept falling down, but the older of the other two kept them all going, knowing that to keep going was their only means of salvation. To stop would have meant being frozen. Moss was their only food this day. Again they made a fire and rested for the night.
On December 16th, Thursday, they set off again, travelling in a southerly direction. A second pigeon was devoured. At last they struck a creek and they were thankful to escape from the bush, walking on the ice being much easier. They travelled all day but discerned no signs of human life. The usual nightly performance was gone through, and each thought it all was rather hopeless, but “life is sweet.”
Friday, December 17th, they commenced their slow and wearisome journey once more, walking on the creek; but at last the creek joined the river and here they perceived sleigh tracks. Noting the direction it had travelled by the imprint of the dog’s feet, they followed the trail. About noon they sighted the sleigh, and the younger of the three commenced to hurry in an endeavour to overtake the sleigh. At last the man, an Indian trapper, observed that someone was endeavouring to overtake him, but, instead of waiting as would be expected, the Indian commenced to hurry. It appears that he was very frightened at the airman’s uniform or his sudden appearance. The young officer managed at last to overtake the Indian, due to the slow progress of the dogs.
The Indian was at last made to understand that the men were starving and lost, so he took the young airman to his house which happened to be at hand, and was, in fact, on Moose Island. A team was sent for the other two airmen, and all were brought to the Company’s Post, where they were thawed out, given a good meal, and put off to bed.
The airmen’s footwear consisted of ordinary leather boots, but thanks to the mild spell and little snow there were no bad effects. “All’s well that ends well.” Now they are looking forward to the two hundred miles of snowshoeing to the main line and let their wives and families know they are safe and sound.
The names of the airmen are:
Lieutenant Farrell, senior; Lieutenant Hinton, the one who was responsible for keeping up the courage of the party, and who was pilot on the N.C. 4 when Commander Read made the famous Trans-Atlantic flight; Lieutenant Kloor, the only free balloon pilot in the party, and who overtook the Indian.
The trip was, I believe, a record flight for a free balloon, 820 miles, as the crow flies, in 25 hours.