The ice had sunk under my weight during the months of waiting in the
tent, and I had many times put snow under the bag to fill the hollow.
The lines of stratification showed clearly the different layers of
snow. How fragile and precarious had been our resting-place! Yet usage
had dulled our sense of danger. The floe had become our home, and
during the early months of the drift we had almost ceased to realize
that it was but a sheet of ice floating on unfathomed seas. Now our
home was being shattered under our feet, and we had a sense of loss and
incompleteness hard to describe.
The fragments of our floe came together again a little later, and we
had our lunch of seal meat, all hands eating their fill. I thought that
a good meal would be the best possible preparation for the journey that
now seemed imminent, and as we would not be able to take all our meat
with us when we finally moved, we could regard every pound eaten as a
pound rescued. The call to action came at 1 p.m. The pack opened well
and the channels became navigable. The conditions were not all one
could have desired, but it was best not to wait any longer. The
'Dudley Docker' and the 'Stancomb Wills' were launched quickly. Stores
were thrown in, and the two boats were pulled clear of the immediate
floes towards a pool of open water three miles broad, in which floated
a lone and mighty berg.
Pages:
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219