Adrift on an Ice-Pan | Page 5

loosen my sheath-knife, scramble forward, find the traces in the water,
and cut them, holding on to the leader's trace wound round my wrist.
[Illustration: TRAVELLING ON BROKEN ICE]
Being in the water I could see no piece of ice that would bear anything
up. But there was as it happened a piece of snow, frozen together like a
large snowball, about twenty-five yards away, near where my leading
dog, "Brin," was wallowing in the slob. Upon this he very shortly
climbed, his long trace of ten fathoms almost reaching there before he
went into the water.
This dog has weird black markings on his face, giving him the
appearance of wearing a perpetual grin. After climbing out on the snow
as if it were the most natural position in the world he deliberately shook
the ice and water from his long coat, and then turned round to look for
me. As he sat perched up there out of the water he seemed to be
grinning with satisfaction. The other dogs were hopelessly bogged.

Indeed, we were like flies in treacle.
Gradually, I hauled myself along the line that was still tied to my wrist,
till without any warning the dog turned round and slipped out of his
harness, and then once more turned his grinning face to where I was
struggling.
It was impossible to make any progress through the sish ice by
swimming, so I lay there and thought all would soon be over, only
wondering if any one would ever know how it happened. There was no
particular horror attached to it, and in fact I began to feel drowsy, as if I
could easily go to sleep, when suddenly I saw the trace of another big
dog that had himself gone through before he reached the pan, and
though he was close to it was quite unable to force his way out. Along
this I hauled myself, using him as a bow anchor, but much bothered by
the other dogs as I passed them, one of which got on my shoulder,
pushing me farther down into the ice. There was only a yard or so more
when I had passed my living anchor, and soon I lay with my dogs
around me on the little piece of slob ice. I had to help them on to it,
working them through the lane that I had made.
[Illustration: PART OF DR. GRENFELL'S TEAM]
The piece of ice we were on was so small it was obvious we must soon
all be drowned, if we remained upon it as it drifted seaward into more
open water. If we were to save our lives, no time was to be lost. When I
stood up, I could see about twenty yards away a larger pan floating
amidst the sish, like a great flat raft, and if we could get on to it we
should postpone at least for a time the death that already seemed almost
inevitable. It was impossible to reach it without a life line, as I had
already learned to my cost, and the next problem was how to get one
there. Marvellous to relate, when I had first fallen through, after I had
cut the dogs adrift without any hope left of saving myself, I had not let
my knife sink, but had fastened it by two half hitches to the back of one
of the dogs. To my great joy there it was still, and shortly I was at work
cutting all the sealskin traces still hanging from the dogs' harnesses, and
splicing them together into one long line. These I divided and fastened
to the backs of my two leaders, tying the near ends round my two

wrists. I then pointed out to "Brin" the pan I wanted to reach and tried
my best to make them go ahead, giving them the full length of my lines
from two coils. My long sealskin moccasins, reaching to my thigh,
were full of ice and water. These I took off and tied separately on the
dogs' backs. My coat, hat, gloves, and overalls I had already lost. At
first, nothing would induce the two dogs to move, and though I threw
them off the pan two or three times, they struggled back upon it, which
perhaps was only natural, because as soon as they fell through they
could see nowhere else to make for. To me, however, this seemed to
spell "the end." Fortunately, I had with me a small black spaniel, almost
a featherweight, with large furry paws, called "Jack," who acts as my
mascot and incidentally as my retriever. This at once flashed into my
mind, and I felt I had still one more chance for life. So I spoke to him
and showed him the