He rolled over on
the bench and was too soundly asleep to be interested in pipe or tea
or anything to eat.
Daylight brought no abatement in the storm. The ice was deep under a
coating of slush, and quite impassable for dogs and men, and the sea
was pounding and battering at the outer edge, as the roar of smashing
ice testified, though quite shut out from view by driving snow. There
was nothing to do but follow the shore, a long way around, and off
they started.
Here and there was an opportunity to cut across small coves and inlets
where the ice was safe enough, and at two o'clock in the afternoon
they reached Crow Island, a small island three-quarters of a mile from
the mainland.
Under the shelter of scraggly fir trees on Crow Island an attempt was
made to light a fire and boil the kettle for tea. But there was no
protection from the blizzard. They failed to get the fire, and finally
compelled by the elements to give it up they took a compass course for
a small settlement on the mainland. The instinct of the dogs led them
straight, and when the men had almost despaired of locating the
settlement they suddenly drew up before a snug cottage.
Pages:
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227