As the ropes, already covered with ice, would have frozen into a solid mass, we were forced to take the drastic step of breaking holes in the bulwarks to allow the water to escape; and only by dint of great exertions did Davis and Harbord perform this feat.
It was a sight to see Harbord, held by his legs, hanging over the starboard side of the Nimrod, and wielding a heavy axe; while Davis, whose length of limb enabled him to lean over without being held, did the same on the other. The temperature at the time was several degrees below zero, and the wind was as strong as that which we had experienced in the gales after we had left New Zealand; though the waves were not so huge as those which had the whole run of the Southern Ocean in which to gather strength to buffet us.
At 2 A.M. the weather suddenly cleared, and we were able to discover that in spite of our efforts to keep our position, the wind and current had driven us over thirty miles to the north. As, however, the sea was rapidly decreasing we were at last able to steam straight for Cape Royds.
Arriving ashore early in the morning I rejoiced to see that the hut was still intact, but the report I received as regards the warmth of it was not reassuring, because, in spite of the stove being alight the whole time, no heat was given off. This eccentric conduct of the stove was a grave matter, for on its efficiency depended not only our comfort but our very existence. The shore-party had experienced a terrific gale, and the hut had trembled and shaken so much and so constantly that I doubt if with a less admirable situation we should have had a hut at all after the gale.
On going down to our main landing-place the full effect of the blizzard was apparent, for hardly a sign of the greater part of our stores was to be seen. Such had been the force of the wind blowing straight on to the shore that spray had been flung in sheets over everything, and had been carried by the wind for nearly a quarter of a mile inland. Consequently, in places, our precious stores lay buried to a depth of five or six feet in a mass of frozen sea water.
We feared that it would take weeks of work to get the stores clear of the ice, and also that the salt-water would have damaged the fodder. However there was no time then to do anything to release the stores from the ice, for the most important thing was to get the remainder of coal ashore and send the ship north.
Before 10 P.M. on February 22 the final boatload of coal arrived, and as we had in all only about eighteen tons, the strictest economy would be needed to make this amount spin out until the sledging parties began in the following spring.
We gave our final letters and messages to the crew of the last boat, and said good-bye. And at 10 P.M. the Nimrod's bows were pointed to the north, and she was moving rapidly away from the winter quarters with a fair wind.
We were all devoutly thankful that the landing of the stores had at length been finished and that the state of the sea would no longer be a factor in our work, but it was with something of a pang that we severed our connection with the world of men. We could hope for no word of news from civilisation until the Nimrod came south again in the following summer, and before that we had a good deal of difficult work to do and some risks to face.
