We ourselves might have clambered a little
way up the snow-slopes, but we could not have taken the boats with us.
The interior of the island was quite inaccessible. We climbed up one of
the slopes and found ourselves stopped soon by overhanging cliffs. The
rocks behind the camp were much weathered, and we noticed the sharp,
unworn boulders that had fallen from above. Clearly there was a danger
from overhead if we camped at the back of the beach. We must move on.
With that thought in mind I reached my tent and fell asleep on the
rubbly ground, which gave a comforting sense of stability. The fairy
princess who would not rest on her seven downy mattresses because a pea
lay underneath the pile might not have understood the pleasure we all
derived from the irregularities of the stones, which could not possibly
break beneath us or drift away; the very searching lumps were sweet
reminders of our safety.
Early next morning (April 15) all hands were astir. The sun soon
shone brightly and we spread out our wet gear to dry, till the beach
looked like a particularly disreputable gipsy camp. The boots and
clothing had suffered considerably during our travels. I had decided to
send Wild along the coast in the 'Stancomb Wills' to look for a new
camping-ground, and he and I discussed the details of the journey while
eating our breakfast of hot seal steak and blubber.
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