The current ran as fast as five miles an hour, and it was a set
of this kind that had delayed Wild on his return from the spit. The
rise and fall of the tide was only about five feet at this time, but
the moon was making for full and the tides were increasing. The
appearance of ice emphasized the importance of getting away promptly.
It would be a serious matter to be prisoned on the beach by the pack.
The boats were soon afloat in the shallows, and after a hurried
breakfast all hands worked hard getting our gear and stores aboard. A
mishap befell us when we were launching the boats. We were using oars
as rollers, and three of these were broken, leaving us short for the
journey that had still to be undertaken. The preparations took longer
than I had expected; indeed, there seemed to be some reluctance on the
part of several men to leave the barren safety of the little beach and
venture once more on the ocean. But the move was imperative, and by 11
a.m. we were away, the 'James Caird' leading. Just as we rounded the
small island occupied by the ringed penguins the "willywaw" swooped
down from the 2000-ft. cliffs behind us, a herald of the southerly gale
that was to spring up within half an hour.
Soon we were straining at the oars with the gale on our bows. Never
had we found a more severe task.
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