Again the pressure began, and at 5 p.m. I
ordered all hands on to the ice. The twisting, grinding floes were
working their will at last on the ship. It was a sickening sensation
to feel the decks breaking up under one's feet, the great beams bending
and then snapping with a noise like heavy gunfire. The water was
overmastering the pumps, and to avoid an explosion when it reached the
boilers I had to give orders for the fires to be drawn and the steam
let down. The plans for abandoning the ship in case of emergency had
been made well in advance, and men and dogs descended to the floe and
made their way to the comparative safety of an unbroken portion of the
floe without a hitch. Just before leaving, I looked down the engine-
room skylight as I stood on the quivering deck, and saw the engines
dropping sideways as the stays and bed-plates gave way. I cannot
describe the impression of relentless destruction that was forced upon
me as I looked down and around. The floes, with the force of millions
of tons of moving ice behind them, were simply annihilating the ship."
Essential supplies had been placed on the floe about 100 yds. from the
ship, and there we set about making a camp for the night. But about 7
p.m., after the tents were up, the ice we were occupying became
involved in the pressure and started to split and smash beneath our
feet.
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