The second start was made on Sunday, March 11, and this time there was no turning back. On March 28 the Duke of Abruzzi went, with the watch party, to Cape Fligely, and constructed a shelter wherein to remain in readiness to greet the first detachment on their return, the date of which was expected to be April 4. On that date, and for some days before, an anxious watch was kept from the lookout point towards the north, but no signs were seen of the returning explorers. For a day or so this did not cause any grave anxiety, as it was quite possible that there might be a brief delay, but as the days went by without a sign, and the days grew into weeks, there was serious uneasiness at the continued non-appearance of the men. The time arrived when the second detachment was due, and still the watchers saw no signs of the returning men. Uneasiness gave place to grave anxiety, and the few who remained at the camp were beginning to wonder whether they alone would return home, with the summer, with only a tale of loss and disaster to bear to their country, when a man of the second party reached the camp in a state of great exhaustion. His story was that his detachment, the second, had parted with the third on March 31, and had successfully negotiated the return journey up to April 15, when an open channel in the ice near the island had stopped their forward march. For days they had sought a way round it, but, failing, the leader had despatched the man in the kayak to reach the watch party, and summon assistance of a boat to convey the remainder over the channel. The man had attempted to land at a point where the ice was some fifteen feet high, but while he was testing it to see if he could clamber up, the kayak slipped away from him and left him clinging, with no hope of escape if he slipped into the water below. He was one of the Alpine guides, and, with his ice-axe, he managed to cut a way up the ice to the summit, though the struggle was a terrible strain on his strength and skill. When, at last, he reached the summit, he was met with a new difficulty. He did not know where he was, nor in which direction the camp lay. He was without food, or refreshment, but he made his way to a higher point, from whence he was, fortunately, able to see the top of the ship's masts showing over the ice. This gave him the direction of the camp at Teplitz Bay, and he made his way thither, with as much speed as he could. When he arrived, he had been battling his way for over twenty-four hours, from the time he lost his kayak, a feat of very great endurance.