While, however, Mackay thought we ought to start in a few days, Mawson and I, on the other hand, thought that we should wait where we were until late in February. From whatever point of view we looked at it, our lot was not a happy one.
Dispirited, indeed, by forebodings of much toil and trouble, we were just preparing to set our weary limbs in motion to pack up and trek up to the depot, when—Bang! went something, seemingly close to the door of our tent. The sound thrilled us; in another instant the air reverberated with a big boom, much louder than the first sound.
Mawson was the first to give tongue, roaring out, "A gun from the ship!" and dived for the tent door. As the latter was narrow there was for the moment some congestion of traffic. I dashed my head forwards, only in time to receive a few kicks from the departing Mawson. Just as I was recovering my equilibrium, Mackay made a wild charge, rode me down, and trampled over my prostrate body.
When at last I got started, Mawson had got a lead of a hundred and Mackay of about fifty yards. "Bring something to wave," Mawson shouted, and rushing back to the tent I seized Mackay's ruck-sack.
And then as I ran forward again, what a sight met my gaze! Not a quarter of a mile away was the dear old Nimrod, steaming straight towards us up the inlet, and at the sight of the three of us hastening frantically to meet the ship, hearty ringing cheers burst forth from all on board.
It would be hard, indeed, for anyone who has never been situated as we had been, to realise the sudden revulsion of our feelings, or to understand how those cheers stirred every fibre within us. In a moment, as dramatic as it was heavenly, we seemed to have passed from death into life.
My first feelings were of intense joy and relief, then of fervent gratitude to the kind Providence which had so mercifully led our friends to our deliverance.
Suddenly, however, a shout from Mackay called me back to earth: "Mawson's fallen into a deep crevasse—look out, it's just in front of you," he called, and I saw him kneeling near the edge of a small oblong hole in the névé.
"Are you all right, Mawson?" he asked, and from the depth came up the welcome word, "Yes."
Mackay then told me that Mawson was about twenty feet down the crevasse, and we decided to try to pull him up with the sledge harness and hurried back to get it. Our combined strength, however, was not enough to pull him up, and as there was a danger of the snow lid at the surface falling in on Mawson unless it was strengthened with some planking, we gave up our attempt, I remaining at the crevasse while Mackay hurried off for help to the Nimrod.