Returning to the camp, we found the men resting or attending to their
gear. Clark had tried angling in the shallows off the rocks and had
secured one or two small fish. The day passed quietly. Rusty needles
were rubbed bright on the rocks and clothes were mended and darned. A
feeling of tiredness--due, I suppose, to reaction after the strain of
the preceding days--overtook us, but the rising tide, coming farther up
the beach than it had done on the day before, forced us to labour at
the boats, which we hauled slowly to a higher ledge. We found it
necessary to move our makeshift camp nearer the cliff. I portioned out
the available ground for the tents, the galley, and other purposes, as
every foot was of value. When night arrived the 'Stancomb Wills' was
still away, so I had a blubber-flare lit at the head of the channel.
About 8 p.m. we heard a hail in the distance. We could see nothing,
but soon like a pale ghost out of the darkness came the boat, the faces
of the men showing white in the glare of the fire. Wild ran her on the
beach with the swell, and within a couple of minutes we had dragged her
to a place of safety. I was waiting Wild's report with keen anxiety,
and my relief was great when he told me that he had discovered a sandy
spit seven miles to the west, about 200 yds.
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