Blackboro’s feet were long since beyond the point of hurting. He never complained, though he knew that it was only a matter of time until gangrene set in. Even if he lived, it seemed unlikely that this youngster who had stowed away a year and a half before would ever walk again. Once during the night, Shackleton called to him in an attempt to raise his spirits. “Blackboro,” he shouted in the darkness. “Here, sir,” Blackboro replied. “We shall be on Elephant Island tomorrow,” Shackleton yelled. “No one has ever landed there before, and you will be the first ashore.”
