The weather was getting worse. A violent wind from the west was bringing up mist, but happily there was no snow. Half an hour later they reached their camp of the night before, where they found Tejbir sound asleep, wrapped up in all the three sleeping-bags. The porters from the North Col were a mile below, and Tejbir was instructed to go down with them. The rest of the descent was a nightmare. The knees of the climbers knocked together, and their limbs did not seem to respond to the direction of the brain. Often they staggered and slipped, and often they were forced to sit down. But at four o'clock in the afternoon they reached the North Col. Happily they still felt famished; they had not yet reached the limit of a man's strength when hunger vanishes. At the North Col they had hot tea and spaghetti, and three-quarters of an hour later they started off for Camp 3 in the company of Captain Noel. The journey was made in record time—forty minutes—and at 5.30 they had reached Camp 3, having descended since midday 6,000 feet.
That evening made amends for the long hours of famine. "Four whole quails, truffled in paté de foie gras, followed by nine sausages, left me asking for more. The last I remember of that long day was going to sleep, warm in the depths of our wonderful sleeping-bag, with the remains of a tin of toffee tucked away in the crook of my elbow."
Captain Brace's feet were badly frost-bitten, but Mr. Finch had come off scot-free, which was neither more nor less than a physical miracle.
As Captain Bruce, on the way down to the base camp, turned to take his last close view of Everest, his farewell was: "Just you wait, old thing. You will be for it soon." It was the logical conclusion. He and Mr. Finch had got to 27,300 feet after exertions and deprivations which might well have unfitted a man for the ascent of the Rigi. These misfortunes were accidental and not inevitable. The value—the superlative value—of oxygen had been abundantly proved. It may be fairly said that the 1922 expedition, though it had not set foot on the summit, had solved the secret of Everest. The mountain could almost certainly be climbed, provided a little luck attended the climbers. Now that the quality of the native porters has been proved, there seems no reason why, with the help of oxygen, a sixth camp could not be arranged on one of the flat places under 27,000 feet which Mr. Finch noted. A night in such a camp would be no more trying than a night at 25,000 feet. If the climbers, starting from 27,000 feet, and, after a good night, fell in with reasonable weather, there seems little doubt that the remaining 2,000 feet could be ascended and the peak conquered, with a good prospect of a safe return on the same day to the North Col. There remains, of course, the possibility of physical breakdown, such as happened to Major Morshead and Tejbir. But against this may be set the fact that Mr. Mallory, Mr. Somervell, Mr. Norton, Mr. Finch, and Captain Bruce, at great altitudes and after severe physical labour, were not specially distressed, and suffered no bad effects afterwards.
The conquest of Everest will always remain one of the most difficult adventures which man can undertake. But it is a reasonable adventure, and not a piece of crazy foolhardiness, which could only succeed by the help of the one chance in a million. The two reconnaissance expeditions have shown that for its achievement every available human resource is necessary. But granted the utilization of these resources, and the possibility, which our familiarity with the lower slopes may soon permit, of waiting upon a spell of kindly weather, the ultimate conquest would seem to be assured. The secret of Everest has been solved. We know now that there is a way to the top, and we know what that way is.*
* The narratives on which the above account is based will be found in Mount Everest: The Reconnaissance (Edwin Arnold, 1921), and the papers by Mr. Mallory and Mr. Finch in the Alpine Journal of November, 1922.
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