“If it be asked, what were my thoughts when I was going down, I can only reply that they chiefly amounted to a sort of dull feeling that I was actually in for a fall, being concentrated on waiting for its inevitable commencement; and that there was no such terror or disagreeable realisation of the situation as people are apt to assign to such moments. Such realisations exist most deeply in the imaginations of the non-combatants outside the fray. During the whole affair my attention was mainly directed to the physical combating with difficulties, and the passing reflections were partly indifferent, partly frivolous. A sort of acceptance of the position, indeed, possessed me, which almost amounted to a melancholy complacency, and, at most, perhaps, the customary ‘When I get out of this’ was changed as fast as it rose up in my imagination into a sadder ‘If ever.’ It was the feeling of the gamester or the soldier surprised at last by adverse odds, intent on his craft as at other times, but with a new and melancholy consciousness.
“My first thought when I came to a standstill—I cannot have gone more than a couple of feet at most—was what I could do even then, with no more hold than before? But I placed myself again in my old position on the tuft; and reflecting that if I had been intended to go down I should have gone then, and almost feeling as if, having escaped that extremity of risk, I had a sort of security for the rest, I resolved without further hesitation to make a determined effort. I once more raised myself on my feet and decided to make a push across the slabs to the grass belt at all hazards; possibly, in case of slipping on the way, I might be able to make a desperate sort of rush for it. I now found two unevennesses in succession, which would allow the side of the foot to rest in them with some chance of staying, while I moved my body along, there being at no time hold for the hand. The second of these slight hollows was fortunately in the dread bank of moisture itself. Below, the rocks shelved away to a steep fall; in front, the grass tufts smiled on me nearer and nearer. While I was feeling along the slabs with the hand that held my ice-axe, the latter by chance fixed itself in a cavity that would otherwise have escaped my notice. It was just about the size and depth of a half-crown, and could not have been caught by the fingers, but the rigid iron stuck in it. This was perhaps the first bit of direct hold I had. A yard further on was another of the same size. But now I had passed the wet rock and was nearing the grass, and carefully launching my ice-axe, so as not to disturb my balance, I hooked it in the grass, and in another moment had reached its hospitable tufts. Creeping up the side, I at last found terra firma.”