I found a flat rock for my
feet, which were in a bad way owing to cold, wetness, and lack of
exercise in the boat, and during the next few hours I laboured to keep
the 'James Caird' clear of the beach. Occasionally I had to rush into
the seething water. Then, as a wave receded, I let the boat out on the
alpine rope so as to avoid a sudden jerk. The heavy painter had been
lost when the sea-anchor went adrift. The 'James Caird' could be seen
but dimly in the cove, where the high black cliffs made the darkness
almost complete, and the strain upon one's attention was great. After
several hours had passed I found that my desire for sleep was becoming
irresistible, and at 1 a.m. I called Crean. I could hear him groaning
as he stumbled over the sharp rocks on his way down the beach. While
he was taking charge of the 'James Caird' she got adrift, and we had
some anxious moments. Fortunately, she went across towards the cave
and we secured her, unharmed. The loss or destruction of the boat at
this stage would have been a very serious matter, since we probably
would have found it impossible to leave the cove except by sea. The
cliffs and glaciers around offered no practicable path towards the head
of the bay. I arranged for one-hour watches during the remainder of
the night and then took Crean's place among the sleeping men and got
some sleep before the dawn came.
Pages:
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313