When I had satisfied myself (as I had not been able to do during the bustle and constant interruptions of the last two weeks) that everything was in its place and every possible contingency provided for, I had a few hours in which to look the situation squarely in the face, and to think of those other times, when, as now, I was on the eve of departure into the void and unknown North.
When at last I turned in for a few hours' sleep before the morning start, it was with the consciousness that so far as my knowledge and ability went, everything had been done, and that every member of the party, as well as myself, would put into his efforts all there was in him of will and sinew and vitality. This being settled, the outcome rested with the elements—the vagaries of the arctic pack, and the quality and amount of our own physical and mental stamina.
FACE OF THE LAND ICE, "GLACIAL FRINGE," OFF CAPE COLUMBIA
This was my final chance to realize the one dream of my life. The morning start would be the drawing of the string to launch the last arrow in my quiver.
PINNACLE NEAR THE SHORE