To the old-timers it was like sighting the Promised Land itself, I fancy. Those who had been with Shackleton in the Endurance expedition spent all their spare time staring through binoculars at remembered landmarks—swapping reminiscences and recollections. They shouted and pointed at Cape Valentine, where the draggled survivors of that unfortunate expedition landed after being two hard years adrift in the ice desert, and where Shackleton, who had not slept for eight days, coiled down on the shingle of the beach and slept for eighteen hours without moving an eyelid. We others worked, getting rid of the fresh accumulations of ice and taking running soundings as the ship went forward. It was necessary to hack the purchase blocks clear of their congealment before the rope would run over the sheaves. The evening favoured us with an exceptional mirage—with vast icebergs floating apparently in a sky of purest gold, and shoals of spouting whales swimming in between them, most marvellous to behold. The ensuing sunset was like something by Doré: both the islands in sight seemed to be blazing with fire, and the sky was a flaming crimson, awe-inspiring in its magnificence. I wished I could paint so that I could have transferred that memorable sight to enduring canvas, for my poor words entirely fail to give an adequate description of the atmospheric miracle.
By four o’clock the following morning, when I went on the bridge, we were coasting along the shore of Elephant Island, which we did not approach too closely, for obvious reasons. And now our minds were filled with the history of that desolate rock; it was the topic of general conversation. They told of how Commander Wild had cheered and brought nineteen men through four of the most difficult months in all the terrible history of Antarctic navigation. They told of how Shackleton, with Worsley and four other stalwarts, had made that amazing passage from Elephant Island to South Georgia in an open boat, and how subsequently the staunch-souled Boss had left no stone unturned till he had brought his stranded comrades back from Elephant Island to civilization. It was a narrative to warm the blood and to make one glory in the pride of race, for it was an epic, no less, told simply as it was, in curt expressions for the most part, without gestures but modestly, in the way that Britons have when narrating heroic deeds.
A high, precipitous coast met our gaze as the ship ploughed forward, with high-soaring crags and a general machicolated effect that made the whole place show as a gigantic mediæval fort; whilst between the jutting crags showed frequent glaciers and glimpses of the towering ice-cap that tops the island. A picture of stern majesty it showed to our ice-wearied eyes. And, too, on the port beam was Cornwallis Island, whilst on the bow were five smaller islands, as though whoever threw the land down there had sprinkled a few handfuls extra for luck.
After breakfast the boatswain and myself re-marked the deep sea leadline, and made a clearance forward to have everything in readiness to let go our long-disused anchor at the appointed time. We rounded-to in a small bay, some hundred yards or so from the sheer face of a glacier end, and there dropped our hook and came to rest for a blissful while. Blissful, I mean, by comparison with recent episodes; though no doubt there are some who might count Elephant Island a curious sort of a pleasure resort. But all things go by contrast, and to our tired eyes the most romantic of South Sea Islands could hardly have appeared more desirable.
Magnificent, lofty crags held us in on two sides; the scenery indeed was so striking as to be almost overwhelming; and on the placid water the Quest floated like a swan. It was possible at last to lie down without holding on, and for that blessed boon we returned heartfelt thanks.
The party detailed to go ashore was lowering away a boat in preparation, when Query, who had almost gone mad ever since land was sighted and smelt, in his eagerness to get ashore overdid it and dived overboard. We let the boat go by the run and secured him—almost frozen, but really none the worse for his bath. Commander Wild went away in charge of the boat, and to my great delight included me in the party. Before we landed he shot a sea-leopard that showed pugnacious symptoms. They can be very terrifying in the water, these evil-avised brutes. We tied up to a big boulder right underneath the towering blue face of the glacier, and whilst walking ashore it struck me how crazy and rotten that ice-face looked. It seemed as if any minute might fetch down a few hundred tons of it on top of the boat; but we were used to ice by then, and didn’t worry.
CHAPTER XV
A Rough Time with Ice and Wind
Elephant Island deserves its name: not because of its shape, but because of the innumerable sea-elephants that litter its shores. Furthermore, there were penguins by brigades and divisions, and skua gulls and long-legged, ungainly “paddy” birds. Commander Wild shot nine elephants, one of them being a huge bull measuring over fifteen feet in length.
As our principal reason for visiting the island at all was the desire to renew our fuel supply, we promptly set to work to flense the kill, cutting up the blubber and dragging it over the foreshore to the waiting boat. Another party presently came on shore to carry on in our stead what time we returned to the Quest for a meal. Returning, Mac and I were detailed to ferry the boat from shore to ship and ship to shore, whilst Commander Wild ran the hunting and flensing parties, and was so eager in his share of the work that as often as not he was up to his waist in the icy water.