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Outside, Hurley, ever resourceful, ignited paraffin, blubber, and sennegrass, creating an explosive blaze, but little smoke. It did not matter; the ship was headed for Cape Wild.

“There she lay,” wrote Lees, “barely a mile off, a very little black ship, apparently a steam tug, not at all the wooden polar ice-breaking craft we expected to see.” While they gazed in wonder, Macklin ran to the “flagpole” and hoisted his Burberry jacket as high as the running gear permitted, which was about half-mast. Meanwhile, Hudson and Lees carried Blackborow outside, and arrived in time to see the mystery ship raise, to their bewilderment, the Chilean naval ensign.

About to be rescued after 22 months

August 30, 1916: The Yelcho is in the distance. Three days earlier, Wild had given the order that a mound of solidified snowdrift be removed from around the outside galley, in the event that the sudden warmer temperatures might thaw it and create flooding. The picks and shovels of the men can be seen where they left them. Their few possessions are piled in readiness.

Cheering loudly, the men watched in excitement as the ship drew closer. Anchoring within 500 feet of the shore, the small tug lowered a boat; and in her the men recognized the sturdy, square-set figure of Shackleton, and then Crean.

“I felt jolly near blubbing for a bit & could not speak for several minutes,” wrote Wild.

“Then there was some real live cheers given,” recalled Bakewell. Breathlessly, the men waited as Shackleton approached. When he was in hearing distance they called out in unison, “All well!”

Worsley had been with Shackleton on the deck of the Yelcho when they first spotted the island. Their hearts had sunk when they saw a flag at half-mast, but gazing with painful intensity through his binoculars, Shackleton had made out the twenty-two figures on shore.

“He put his glasses back in their case and turned to me, his face showing more emotion than I had ever known it show before,” wrote Worsley. “Crean had joined us, and we were all unable to speak.… It sounds trite, but years literally seemed to drop from him as he stood before us.”

In one hour, the entire company of Elephant Island and their few possessions were aboard the Yelcho, Hurley bringing along his cannisters of plates and film, and Green-Elephant Island street the log of the Endurance. Shackleton, ever mindful of the treacherous ice, resisted invitations to come ashore to examine the Snuggery; he was eager to be out beyond the pack line as quickly as possible.

Rescuing the crew from Elephant Island

“30 August—Wednesday—Day of Wonders.” ( Hurley, diary)

Lees was the last to leave; he had been standing by the hut in readiness to give the Boss a tour of the premises. Only after the last boat trip had been made did he appear on the beach, frantically waving his arms, and practically diving into the boat when it put around.

From the bridge of the Yelcho, Worsley intently watched the rescue.

“2.10 All Well!” he recorded in his log. “At last! 2.15 full speed ahead.”

The adventure was over; and almost immediately it seemed as if things had not really been so bad. Somehow, in the day-to-day running of the camp, Wild had managed to make their predicament seem merely uncomfortable rather than desperate.

“I am not very susceptible to emotions …,” Hurley wrote. “Yet as those noble peaks faded away in the mist, I could scarce repress feelings of sadness to leave forever the land that has rained on us its bounty and been salvation. Our hut, a lone relic of our habitation, will become a centre around which coveys of penguins will assemble to gaze with curiosity & deliberate its origin. Good old Elephant Isle.”

Shackleton had much to tell both his men and the outside world. But the letter he dashed off to his wife on landing again in Punta Arenas stated only the essentials.

“I have done it. Damn the Admiralty.… Not a life lost and we have been through Hell.”

The Yelcho, triumphant. This photograph capturing