This accident proved later to be a serious one,
since some sea-water had entered the cask and the contents were now
brackish.
By midday the 'James Caird' was ready for the voyage. Vincent and the
carpenter had secured some dry clothes by exchange with members of the
shore party (I heard afterwards that it was a full fortnight before
the soaked garments were finally dried), and the boat's crew was
standing by waiting for the order to cast off. A moderate westerly
breeze was blowing. I went ashore in the 'Stancomb Wills' and had a
last word with Wild, who was remaining in full command, with directions
as to his course of action in the event of our failure to bring relief,
but I practically left the whole situation and scope of action and
decision to his own judgment, secure in the knowledge that he would act
wisely. I told him that I trusted the party to him and said good-bye
to the men. Then we pushed off for the last time, and within a few
minutes I was aboard the 'James Caird'. The crew of the 'Stancomb
Wills' shook hands with us as the boats bumped together and offered us
the last good wishes. Then, setting our jib, we cut the painter and
moved away to the north-east. The men who were staying behind made a
pathetic little group on the beach, with the grim heights of the island
behind them and the sea seething at their feet, but they waved to us
and gave three hearty cheers.
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