On the ground (Ellsworth would later name it Camp I), Hollick-Kenyon drained the oil to stop it freezing in the engine, then inspected the plane and found small crumples between the wing and the fuselage, caused by the heavy landing.
They had been in the air a little less than fourteen hours. Hollick-Kenyon knew they had followed the coast south from Dundee Island, then had turned to follow their compass bearing along the 80° South latitude line of meridian. But following that great circle route, how far west had they flown? Based on their estimated speed and the time they had been in the air, Hollick-Kenyon believed they had reached 141° West.
Ellsworth took a sight with his sextant, made his calculation, and declared they were only at 104° West. That would put them more than four hundred miles from where Hollick-Kenyon’s dead reckoning placed them.
Both men understood it was unlikely they had enough fuel to reach Little America, even if they could find it. And Hollick-Kenyon did not want to use fuel running the portable generator to power the large radio. Instead they attempted to send signals using the smaller, hand-cranked trail radio. But nothing was heard in response.
The weather became “hazy,” preventing Ellsworth from taking a sun sighting, so the weary men set up the tent, crawled into their sleeping bags, and rested for ten hours. When they emerged, the sky was clear again. Ellsworth took another sighting which, incredibly, gave their position as 80°20' South and 85°50' West—more than six hundred miles from Hollick-Kenyon’s dead reckoning position and almost one thousand miles from Little America. Could they still be so far from their destination after almost fourteen hours of flying? The two men discussed the situation and agreed they had no choice but to follow their compass course until their fuel ran out. Before leaving, Ellsworth honored his pilot by naming the area Hollick-Kenyon Plateau. The name is still used today.
Hollick-Kenyon got the Polar Star airborne and, with “weather thick ahead,” he followed a magnetic compass course of 196°. But they were only in the air for thirty minutes when a whiteout forced them down again. Unable to see what was below him, Hollick-Kenyon expertly landed the plane in the fog.
The pair spent two days on the ground at Camp II. Ellsworth recorded nothing of his navigational observations in his diary. He did, however, say that he took two photographs and noted “November 25 and 26 in camp.” He also commented:
A certain amount of snow clung to our canvas boots. This melted in the tent . . . the leather moccasins I had unwisely worn began to shrink with dampness, impeding blood circulation in my feet.1
Ellsworth was a long way from the Grand Canyon.
Hollick-Kenyon was more liberal with his record keeping. He noted that Ellsworth took a sight of the sun at 1335 on November 25 to calculate their position as 80°58' South and, almost impossibly, only 90° West. Another sight at 1500 on November 26 had Ellsworth concluding they were farther north, at 77°42' South and farther west at 117°30' West.
Hollick-Kenyon, however, did not record his frustration with his navigator. He did note there were clouds around all day and some frosty haze, the visibility varied greatly, and the temperature was minus 20–25°F. He also attempted to contact the Wyatt Earp using the trail radio, but except for time signals out of Buenos Aires, he heard nothing.
At five minutes before midnight on November 26 the pair taxied the Polar Star before lifting off on the next attempt to locate the Ross Ice Shelf. They followed a magnetic compass course of 179°, with their IAS 118 mph.
Ellsworth was finally forced to put pencil to paper and wrote that they took off “in great uncertainty about the precise direction of Little America.” They only flew for fifty minutes. They had begun the flight in a clear midnight sky. Less than an hour later they landed in fog, with a storm approaching, having only flown approximately ninety miles. They were still at 6,200 feet. Watching the approaching storm, and fearing the strong wind would pick up the Polar Star and fling it to oblivion, they hurriedly dug trenches for the skis and dragged the plane forward so that the wings sat flat on the snow. Then they set up their tent and crawled inside as the blizzard hit them like a wall.
Wilkins was in a predicament. The last radio contact from the Polar Star had been received at 1610 (November 23). Hollick-Kenyon had been able to communicate that they were still flying and still on course. But the fragmentary message was puzzling. Was he trying to communicate that he thought they were only at 71° West? That would mean they had only traveled about eight hundred miles in seven and a half hours. It was much slower than expected.
Wilkins knew Ellsworth and Hollick-Kenyon had passed the Eternity Range, so there was no possibility that they would be attempting to return to the Wyatt Earp. The plan, if Ellsworth and Hollick-Kenyon landed after passing the mountains and were not able to get airborne, was for them to load their supplies on their sled then walk north, to the edge of the landfast ice and from there eastward to Mount Monique, Charcot Island.
Had they come down shortly after 71° West? If so, were they trying to walk to Charcot Island? Or were they were still flying when radio contact was lost? In many respects, 1610 was the worst possible time to lose radio contact—less than half way into their flight. Wilkins had to decide whether to head for Charcot Island or for the Bay of Whales. It was a decision complicated by the fact that the Wyatt Earp had become trapped at Dundee Island, held fast by the westerly drift of the ice.
It was also time for the uncomfortable task of informing Mary Louise that radio contact with her husband had been lost while the Wyatt Earp was trapped in the corner of the Weddell Sea. Wilkins radioed the news.
Mary Louise, waiting in New York, reacted calmly. First, she contacted the family lawyers, Morris & McVeigh, and informed Charles McVeigh that his wealthy client was missing, somewhere in Antarctica. McVeigh sent a radiogram to Wilkins saying, “Thank God you’re down there,”2 and authorizing him to do whatever he thought necessary to instigate a search. If that involved purchasing or hiring another airplane, then Wilkins had the authority to do it.
Next, Mary Louise contacted Richard Byrd, who was lecturing and still smarting from the criticism that he had purposely denied Ellsworth assistance. Mary Louise wanted to know what could be done to locate her husband. Byrd explained patiently that there was not a lot that he could do from the United States, but perhaps someone in Australia or New Zealand could be convinced to sail to the Bay of Whales, to see if Ellsworth was there. Byrd then went on to point out that he considered the Australian explorer Sir Douglas Mawson the most qualified man in the Southern Hemisphere to mount a search. On behalf of Mary Louise, Byrd contacted Mawson and asked if Australia would consider searching for Ellsworth.
Meanwhile, three days after the Polar Star had left Dundee Island, the wind turned, releasing the Wyatt Earp. Freed from the viselike grip of the ice, the little ship escaped and took shelter on the west side of Snow Hill Island, again standing off from Nordenskjöld’s hut. Amid the stream of concerned radiograms from Charles McVeigh, Mary Louise, and Ellsworth’s brother-in-law, Bernon Prentice, Wilkins decided his best course of action was to get another airplane, so he could search the Antarctic coast or even, if Ellsworth and Hollick-Kenyon were not found, follow their flight across the continent. He asked McVeigh if he could locate another Northrop Gamma and, if he did, could it be flown to Magallanes?
Wilkins then waited for the ice pack to disperse. Before leaving Snow Hill Island he left a note at Nordenskjöld’s hut in case the Wyatt Earp did not complete the return journey. The note concluded:
The MS Wyatt Earp proceeded on November 26 to Deception Island, there to await information from the representatives in New York with reference to the relief airplane. The flights to lay depots will be made if Ellsworth and Kenyon are not heard from, or if they are not found at the Bay of Whales. (Signed) Hubert Wilkins.3
Two days later the Wyatt Earp reached Deception Island, where Wilkins received a radio message from Bernon Prentice. A Northrop Gamma plane was on its way to Magallanes. The Wyatt Earp sailed north to meet it.