SOUTH 
went, to be checked presently by the sight of water 2500 ft. 
below. We could see the little wave-ripples on the black beach, 
penguins strutting to and fro, and dark objects that looked like 
seals lolling lazily on the sand. This was an eastern arm of 
Fortuna Bay, separated by the ridge from the arm we had 
seen below us during the night. The slope we were traversing 
appeared to end in a precipice above this beach. But our 
revived spirits were not to be damped by difficulties on the last 
stage of the journey, and we camped cheerfully for breakfast. 
Whilst Worsley and Crean were digging a hole for the lamp 
and starting the cooker I climbed a ridge above us, cutting 
steps with the adze, in order to secure an extended view of the 
country below. At 6.30 a.m. I thought I heard the sound of 
a steam-whistle. I dared not be certain, but I knew that the 
men at the whaling-station would be called from their beds 
about that time. Descending to the camp I told the others, 
and in intense excitement we watched the chronometer for 
seven o'clock, when the whalers would be summoned to work. 
Eight to the minute the steam-whistle came to us, borne clearly 
on the wind across the intervening miles of rock and snow. 
Never had anv one of us heard sweeter music. It was the first 
sound created by outside human agency that had come to our 
ears since we left Stromness Bay in December 1914. That 
whistle told us that men were living near, that ships were ready, 
and that within a few hours we should be on our way back to 
Elephant Island to the rescue of the men waiting there under 
the watch and ward of Wild. It was a moment hard to describe. 
Pain and ache, boat journeys, marches, hunger and fatigue 
seemed to belong to the limbo of forgotten things, and there 
remained only the perfect contentment that comes of work 
accomplished. 
My examination of the country from a higher point had not 
provided definite information, and after descending I put the 
situation before Worsley and Crean. Our obvious course lay 
down a snow-slope in the direction of Husvik. Boys," I 
said, " this snow-slope seems to end in a precipice, but perhaps 
there is no precipice. If we don't go down we shall have to 
make a detour of at least five miles before we reach level going. 
202 
