South: The Mountain Between Them and Rescue


They had crossed an ocean in a small boat. Now Shackleton, Worsley and Crean stood on an island—and safety was still on the other side.
Their ship, Endurance, had been crushed by ice. Twenty-two men waited on Elephant Island. Shackleton had gone for help. He could not go home without them.
Three men stayed with the boat; two were too weak to cross. Shackleton, Worsley and Crean took a rope and a carpenter’s tool for cutting ice, and headed into the mountains.
They climbed for hours. Shackleton cut the final steps and looked over the ridge. Below him was a sheer drop into broken ice. They would have to go back.
Another climb. Another dead end. Fog rolled up behind them, and daylight was going. They carried no tent. Up here, stopping for the night was no shelter at all.
At last, a slope. They could not see its bottom. They cut steps until the snow softened, then slid—down and down, faster than they could walk.
They stopped on a snowbank. The fog was still high above them. They had escaped the ridge. Ahead lay more snow, and the long walk into night.
Moonlight showed the cracks in the ice. They walked between them. Once, they thought they had found the right bay. It was the wrong one. They turned uphill again.
Near dawn, they huddled beneath a rock, arms around one another. Worsley and Crean fell asleep almost at once. Shackleton stayed awake.
Shackleton wrote that he feared they would die if all three slept. After five minutes, he woke the others. He told them they had rested for half an hour.
They got up, stiff-legged, and climbed again. Beyond another ridge, the land began to look familiar. Then Shackleton heard something the mountains could not make.
A steam whistle. They waited for the hour. At seven, it sounded again. Somewhere beyond the rock and snow, people were starting an ordinary working day.
But hearing people was not reaching them. Hours later, one last descent led to a waterfall. They lowered themselves through the freezing water. They could not recover the rope.
At Stromness whaling station, a door opened. Inside were warmth, coffee and clean clothes. They had crossed the mountains in thirty-six hours. Now there was somewhere to ask for help.
The three men beside the boat were brought back. But the twenty-two on Elephant Island were still waiting. Ice blocked rescue attempts. May became June. Then July.
On 30 August, the Chilean ship Yelcho reached Elephant Island. All twenty-two men were alive. The mountains were months behind Shackleton. At last, the men he had left behind were coming aboard.
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