Number 230

f

Anonymous Gift

ADRIFT ON AN
ICE-PAN BY

WILFRED THOMASON GRENFELL
1 1 '

ILLUSTRATED FBOM PHOTOGRAPHS

BOSTON NEW YORK CHICAGO
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
^\)e mitaeri^ibe }^w00 Cambiibge

COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY WILFRED THOMASON GRENFELL
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

308(3 b

van JtitutsOu SrtSK
CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS

CONTENTS
Foreword  v
Biographical Sketch  xi
Adrift on an Ice-Pan  1
Appendix  61

ILLUSTRATIONS
The Settlement at St, Anthony Frontispiece
On a Journey from St, Anthony , , . 4

FOREWORD
EvERTBODY loves to scea goodgame,
weU played; and everybody, who is
anybody, loves a good player ; and
what the best in everybody natu
raUy loves is pretty sure to be right.
So if you, whoever you are, who read
this, do not agree with what it says,
you need n't have much doubt about
it that you are wrong.
Of course, every one cannot play
as weU as every other person in every
place in the game. One feUow can
excel, say at football, and another at
baseball, and another at scholarship;
while some are physically unfitted to
outclass their feUows at any of these
[v]

FOREWORD
things. But that is no excuse what
ever why they should not love every
good game and every good player.
To appreciate and encoiu-age the
players is perhaps yoiu- part of the
game. Do not think that a good
"rooter" has no value.
Every one can excel in the greatest
of all games — the game of Ufe . God
will give you exactly what you need
to win out in your particular place.
If you who are reading this do not
possess riches, or physical strength,
or genius, do not be discouraged.
Remember that riches of themselves
cannot add to your Ufe anything
which is of real importance. Physi
cal strength only belongs to any one
for a few years ; and it has not been
the brilliantly clever, but the hard
workers who have given the world
[ vi]

FOREWORD
most. That is, it is they who have
reaUy won the greatest prize. For
success is measured, not by what we
have, but by what we do with what
we have. " 'Tis dogged as does it."
"Blessed be drudgery."
The second thing I want to say is
that no one, at heart, has any use
for the excuse maker. Even if you
know you cannot win, the world will
never forgive you for not trying. It
rightly despises the ' ' quitter, " but it
loves the feUow who says, "I know
I'm not much good, but I 'U play the
game. I may not be able to get on
the gridiron, but I'U be there on my
place on the stand, and encourage
the others." The bigger the odds
against you, and the greater the sac
rifice you have to make, the more
every one wiU love you, and the bet^
[vii]

FOREWORD
ter you wiU become fitted for accom
pUshment. Who cares for the winner
of a "walkover"? The man who is
worth while does not care about il
himself. Anyhow, there is no such
thing as a "walkover" in the great
est game of aU, There is only one
way to attain the best of aU prizes,
that is to fight for it, and win it for
yourself. This little book is only the story
of a Doctor in the wilds. His name
and his identity do not matter. They
wiU soon be forgotten anyhow. It
was only a nameless fisher-lad whose
life was at issue. The world does not
care whether it was prolonged or not.
What at first to us appear the big
things, are really, often enough, only
the little things.
If there is any lesson, it is only of
[ viii ]

FOREWORD
importance in showing that the play
ing of the game well is in itself the
prize of Ufe, and that now is the time,
and exactly where you are is the place ,
for each man to be playing it,
Ourown approval, andthe world's
approval, and God's approval can
only be gained by struggle . They can
never be purchased. Life is not a
gamble. The crown of life can only
go, and will always go, to those who
have a right to say ' ' I have fought a
good fight." Captain Oates won it
when he went out to meet death,
consciously, in order that he might
try and save his companions. All the
ages concede that Christ won it,
though it was on a cross, Nathan
Hale, scholar and athlete, empha
sized this when, as he gladly gave
up his young life for his country, he

FOREWORD
said, ' ' My only regret is that I have
but one life to offer,"
Wilfred T. Grenfell, M,D.
November 5, igiS,

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
' ' Most Noble Vice-Ghancellor,
AND You, Eminent Proctors :
"A citizen of Britain is before you,
once a student in this University,
now better known to the people of
the New World than to our own.
This is the man who fifteen years ago
went to the coast of Labrador, to
succor with medical aid the soUtary
fishermen of the northern sea ; in
executing which service he despised
the perils of the ocean, which are
there most terrible, in order to bring
comfort and Ught to the wretched
and sorrowing. Thus, up to the mea
sure of human ability, he seems to fol
low, if it is right to say it of any one.

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
in the footsteps of Christ Himself,
as a truly Christian man. Rightly
then we praise him by whose praise
not he alone, but our University also
is honored, I present to you Wilfred
Thomason Grenfell, that he may be
admitted to the degree of Doctor in
Medicine, honoris causa,"
Thus may be rendered the Latin
address when, in May, 1907, for the
first time in its history, the Univer
sity of Oxford conferred the honorary
degree in medicine. With these fit
ting words was presented a man
whose simple faith has been the
motive pover of his works, to whom
pain and weariness of flesh have caUed
no stay since there was discourage
ment never, to whom personal dan
ger has counted as nothing since fear
is incomprehensible, "As the Lord

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
wiUs, whether for wreck or service,
I am about His business," On No
vember gth ofthe precedingyear,the
King of England gave one of his
' ' Birthday Honors " to the same man,
making him a Companion of St.
Michael and St, George (C, M, G,).
Wilfred Thomason Grenfell, sec
ond son ofthe Rev, Algernon Sydney
GrenfeU and Jane Georgiana Hutch
inson, was born on the twenty-
eighth day of February, eighteen
hundred and sixty-five, at Mostyn
House School, Parkgate, by Chester,
England, of an ancestry which laid
a firm foundation for his career and
in surroundings which fitted him for
it. On both sides of his inheritance
have been exhibited the courage,
patience, persistence, and fighting
and teaching qualities which are ex-
[ xiii I

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
emplified in his own abiUties to com
mand, to administer, and to upUft.
On his father's side were the Gren-
viUes, who made good account of
themselves in such cause as they ap
proved, among them Basil GrenviUe,
commander of the RoyaUst Cornish
Army, kUled at Lansdown in i643
in defence of King Charles,
" Four wheels to Ctiarles's wain :
Grenville, Trevanion, Slanning, Godolpliin
slain."
There was also Sir Richard Gren
viUe, immortaUzed by Tennyson in
"The Revenge," and John Pascoe
GrenviUe, the right-hand man of
Admiral Cochrane, who boarded the
Spanish admiral's ship, the Esmer
alda, on the port side, while Coch
rane came up on the starboard, when
together they made short work of

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
the capture. Nor has the strain died
out, as is demonstrated in the pre
sent generation by many of Dr , Gren-
fell's cousins, among them General
Francis Wallace GrenfeU, Lord Kil-
vey, and by Dr, Grenfell himself on
the Labrador in the fight against dis
ease and disaster and distress along
a stormy and uncharted coast.
On his mother's side, four of her
brothers were generals or colonels in
the trying times of service in India,
The eldest fought with distinction
throughout the Indian Mutiny and
in the defence of Lucknow, and an
other commanded the crack cavalry
regiment, the "Guides," at Pesha
war, and fell fighting in one of the
turbulent North of India wars.
Of teachers, there was Dr, Gren-
feU's paternal grandfather, the Rev.
[XV]

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
Algernon Grenfell, the second of
three brothers, house master at Rug
by under Arnold, and a fine classical
scholar, whose elder and younger
brothers each felt the ancestral caU
of the sea and became admirals, with
brave records of daring and success,
Dr, GrenfeU's father, after a brU
liant career at Rugby School and at
BaUiol College, Oxford, became as
sistant master at Repton, and later,
when he married, head master of
Mostyn House School, a position
which he resigned in 1 882 to becorne
Chaplain of the London Hospital,
"He was a man of much learning,
with a keen interest in science, a re
markable eloquence, and a fervent
evangelistic faith."
Mostyn House School still stands,
enlarged and modernized, in the

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
charge of Dr. GrenfeU's elder broth
er, and in it his mother is still the
real head and controUing genius,
Parkgate, at one time a seaport
of renown, when Liverpool was still
unimportant, and later a seaside
health resort to which came the fash
ion and beauty of England, had faU
en, through the silting of the estuary
and the broadening of the ' ' Sands
of Dee," to the level of a hamlet in
the time of Dr, GrenfeU's boyhood.
The broad stretch of seaward trend
ing sand, with its interlacing rivulets
of fresh and brackish water, made a
tempting though treacherous play
ground, alluring alike in the varied
forms of life i t harbored and in the
adventure which whetted explora
tion. Thither came Charles Kingsley,
Canon of Chester, who married a
[ x:vii ]

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
Grenfell, and who coupled his verse
with scientific study and made
geological excursions to the river's
mouth with the then Master of
Mostyn House School, In these ex
cursions the youthful Wilfred was a
participant, and therein he leamed
some of his first lessons in that ac
curacy of observation essential to his
later life work.
Here in this trained, but untram-
meled, boyhood, with an inherited
incentive to labor and an educated
thirst for knowledge, away from the
thrall of crowded communities, close
to the wild places of nature, with the
sea always beckoning and a rocking
boat as familiar as the land, it is
smaU wonder that there grew the
fashioning of the purpose of a man ,
dimly at first, conceived in a home in

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
which aU, both of tradition and of
teaching, bred faith, reverence, and
the sense of thanksgiving in useful
ness. From the school-days at Parkgate
came the step to Marlborough Col
lege, where three years were marked
by earnest study, both in books and
in play, for the one gained a scholar
ship and the other an enduring inter
est in Rugby, footbaU. Matriculating
later at the University of London,
Grenfell entered the London Hospi
tal, and there laid not only the foun
dation of his medical education, but
that of his friendship with Sir Fred
erick Treves, renowned surgeon and
daring sailor and master mariner as
well. With plenty of work to the
fore, as a hospital interne, the ruling
spirit stiU asserted itself, and the
[xix]

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
young doctor became an inspiration
among the waifs of the teeming city ;
he was one of the founders of the
great Lads' Brigades which have done
much good, and fostered more, in
the example that they have set for
aUied activities. Nor were the needs
of his ownbodilymachine neglected;
football, rowing, and the tennis court
kept him in condition, and his ath
letics served to strengthen his appeals
to the London boys whom he enroUed
in the brigades. He founded the inter-
hospital rowing club at Putney and
rowed in the first inter-hospital race ;
he played on the Varsity footbaU
team, and won the "throwing the
hammer" at the sports,
A couple of terms at Queen's Col
lege, Oxford, followed the London
experience, but here the conditions
[ XX 1

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
were too easy and luxurious for one
who, by. both inheritance and train
ing, had within him the incentive to
the strenuous life. Need called, mis
ery appealed, the message of life, of
hope, and of salvation awaited, and
the young doctor turned from Oxford
to the medical mission work in which
his record stands among the fore
most for its effectiveness and for the
spirituality ofits purpose.
Seeking some way in which he
could satisfy his medical aspirations,
as well as his desire for adventure
and for definite Christian work, he
appealed to Sir Frederick Treves, a
member of the Council of the Royal
National Mission to Deep Sea Fisher
men, who suggested his joining the
staff of the mission and establishing
a medical mission to the fishermen
[ xxi ]

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
of the North Sea. The conditions of
the life were onerous, the. existing
traffic in spirituous liquors and in all
other demoralizing influences had to
be fought step by step, prejudice and
evil habit had to be overcome and to
be replaced by better knowledge and
better desire, there was room for
both fighting and teaching, and
the medical mission won its way,
' ' When you set out to commend
your gospel to men who don't want
it, there 's only one way to go about
it, — to do something for them that
they 'U be sure to understand. The
message of love that was ' made flesh
and dwelt amongst men ' must be re
incarnate in our Uves if it is to be
received to-day," Thus came about
the outfitting of the Albert hospital-
ship to carry the message and the
[ xxii ]

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
help, by cruising among the fleets on
the fishing-grounds, and the organi
zation of the Deep Sea Mission; when
this work was done, ' ' when the fight
had gone out of il," Dr, Grenfell
looked for another field, for yet
another need, and found it on that
barren and inhospitable coast the
Labrador, whose only harvest field
is the sea.
Six hundred miles of almost bar
ren rock with outlying uncharted
ledges, — worn smooth by ice, else
stiU more vessels would have found
wreckage there ; a scant, constant
population of hardy fishermen and
their families, pious and God-fear
ing, most of them, but largely at the
mercy ofthe local traders, who took
their pay in fish for the bare neces
sities of living, with a large account
[ xxiii ]

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
always on the trader's side ; with
such medical aid and ministration
as came only occasionalfy, by the
infrequent mail boat, and not at aU
in the long winter months wliea the
coast was firm beset with ice, — to
such a place came Dr, GrenfeU in
1892 to cast in his lot with its in
habitants, to live there so long as
he should, to die there were it God's
will. As it stands to-day the Mission
to Deep Sea Fishermen, which Dr,
GrenfeU represents, administers, and
animates on the Labrador coast, not
only brings hope, new courage, and
spiritual comfort to an isolated peo
ple in a desolate land, but cares for
the sick and injured, in its four
hospitals and dispensary, provides
house visitation by means of dog-
[ xxiv ]

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
sledge journeys covering hundreds
of miles in a year, leaches whole
some and righteous living, conducts
cooperative stores, provides for or
phans and for families bereft of the
bread-winners by accidents of the
sea, encourages thrift, and admin
isters justice, and adds to the wage-
earning capacity and therefore food-
obtaining power by operating a saw
miU, a schooner-building yard, and
other productive industries.
To accomplish this, to make of the
scattered settlements a united and
independent people, to safeguard
their future by such measures as the
establishment of a Seamen's Insti
tute at St. John's, Newfoundland,
and the insurance of communication
with the outside world, and to raise,
by personal solicitation, the rnoney
[ xxv ]

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
needed for these enterprises, re..
quires an unusual personality. Faith,
courage, insight, foresight, the pow
er to win, and the abiUty to com
mand, — aU of these and more of like
qualities are embodied and portrayed
in Dr, Grenfell. Clarence John Blake.

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
It was Easter Sunday at St. Anthony
in the year 1908, but with us in
northern Newfoundland still winter.
Everything was covered with snow
and ice, I was walking back after
morning service, when a boy came
running over from the hospital with
the news that a large team of dogs
had come from sixty miles to the
southward, to get a doctor on a very
urgent case. It was that of a young
man on whom we had operated about
a fortnight before for an acute bone
disease in the thigh. The people had
allowed the wound to close, the poi
soned matter had accumulated, and
we thought we should have to re-
I 'J

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
move the leg. There was obviously,
therefore, no time to be lost. So,
having packed up the necessary in
struments, dressings, and drugs, and
having fitted out the dog-sleigh with
my best dogs, I started at once, the
messengers following me with their
team. My team was an especiaUy good
one. On many a long journey they
had stood by me and pulled me out
of difficulties by their sagacity and
endurance. To a lover of his dogs, as
every Christian man must be, each
one had become almost as precious
as a child to its mother. They were
beautiful beasts: "Brin," the clever
est leader on the coast; "Doc,"
a large, gentle beast, the backbone
of the team for power; "Spy," a
wiry, powerful black and white dog;
[ 2 ]

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
' ' Moody," a lop-eared black-and-tan,
in his third season, a plodder that
never looked behind him; "Watch,"
the youngster of the team, long-
legged and speedy, with great liquid
eyes and a Gordon-setter coat ;" Sue , "
a large, dark Eskimo, the image of
a great black wolf, with her sharp-
pointed and perpendicular ears, for
she "harked back" to her wild an
cestry ; ' ' Jerry , " a large roan-colored
slut, the quickest of all my dogs on
her feet, and so affectionate that her
overtures of joy had often sent me
sprawUng on my back; "Jack," a
jet-black, gentle-natured dog, more
like a retriever, that always ran next
the sledge, and never looked hackbut
everlastingly pulled straight ahead,
running always with his nose to the
ground, [ 3 ]

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
It was late in April, when there is
always the risk of getting wet through
the ice, so that I was carefuUy pre
pared with spare outfit, which in-
eluded a change of garments, snow-
shoes, rifle, compass, axe, and oilskin
overdo thes. The messengers were
anxious that their team should travel
back with mine, for they were slow
at best and needed a lead. My dogs,
however, being a powerful team,
could not be held back, and though
I managed to wait twice for their
sleigh, I had reached a village about
twenty miles on the journey before
nightfaU, and had fed the dogs, and
was gathering a few people for pray
ers when they caught me up.
During the night the wind shifted
to the northeast, which brought in
fog and rain, softened the snow, and
[ 4 ]

ON A JOURNEY

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
made travelling very bad, besides
heaving a heavy sea into the bay.
Our drive next morning would be
somewhat over forty miles, the first
ten miles on an arm of the sea, on
salt-water ice.
In order not to be separated too
long from my friends, I sent them
ahead two hours before me, appoint
ing a rendezvous in a log tilt that we
have built in the woods as a halfway
house. There is no one Uving on all
that long coast-line, and to provide
against accidents — which have hap
pened more than once — we built
this hut to keep dry clothing, food,
and drugs in.
The first rain of the year was falling
when I started , and I was obliged to
keep on what we call the ' ' ballica-
ters," or ice barricades, much farther
I 5 ]

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
up the bay than I had expected. The
sea of the night before had smashed
the ponderous covering of ice right
to the land wash. There were great
gaping chasms between the enor
mous blocks, which we caU pans, and
half a mile out it was all clear water.
An island three miles out had pre
served a bridge of ice, however, and
by crossing a few cracks I managed
to reach it. From the island it was
four miles across to a rocky promon
tory, — a course that would be sev
eral miles shorter than going round
the shore . Here as far as the eye could
reach the ice seemed good, though it
was very rough. Obviously, it had
been smashed up by the sea and then
packed in again by the strong wind
from the northeast, and I thought it
had frozen together solid,
[ 6 1

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
All went well till I was about a
quarter of a mile from the landing-
point. Then the wind suddenly feU,
and I noticed that I was traveUing
over loose " sish," which was like
porridge and probably many feet
deep. By stabbing down, I could
drive my whip-handle through the
thin coating of young ice that was
floating on it. The sish ice consists
ofthe tiny fragments where the large
pans have been pounding together
on the heaving sea, like the stones
of Frey a' s grinding mill.
So quickly did the wind now come
off shore, and so quickly did the
packed "slob," relieved of the wind
pressure, ' ' run abroad," that already
I could not see one pan larger than
ten feet square; moreover, the ice
was loosening so rapidly that I saw
I 7 ]

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
that retreat was absolutely impossi
ble. Neither was there any way to get
off the Uttle pan I was surveying
from. There was not a moment to lose,
I tore off my oilskins, threw myself
on my hands and knees by the side
of the komatik to give a larger base
to hold, and shouted to my team to
go ahead for the shore. Before we
had gone twenty yards, the dogs got
frightened, hesitated for a moment,
and the komatik instantly sank into
the slob. It was necessary then for
the dogs to pull much harder, so that
they now began to sink in also.
Earlier in the season the father of
the very boy I was going to operate
on had been drowned in this same
way, his dogs tangling their traces
around him in the slob. This flashed

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
into my mind, and I managed to
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.
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 often fathoms
almost reaching there before he went
into the water.
This dog has weird black markings
on his face, giving him the appear
ance of wearing a perpetual grin.
After climbing out on the snow as if
it were the most natural position in
[ 9 ]

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
the world he deUberately 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
Uke flies in treacle.
GraduaUy, I hauled myself along
the line that was stUl tied to my wrist,
till without any warning the dog
turned round and sUpped out of his
harness, and then once more turned
his grinning face to where I was
struggling. It was impossible to make any prog
ress through the sish ice by swim
ming, so I lay there and thought aU
would soon be over, only wondering
if any one would ever know how it
happened. There was no particu-

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
lar horror attached to it, and in fact I
began to feel drowsy, as if 1 could eas
ily 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 1 hauled my
self, 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.
The piece of ice we were on was
80 small it was obvious we must soon
[ «i ]

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
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 postr-
pone 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, MarveUous to
relate , when I had first faUen 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 stiU, and shortly I was
[ 12 ]

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
at work cutting all the sealskin traces
stiU hanging from the dogs' har
nesses, 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. 1 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 1 had already
lost. At first, nothing would induce
the two dogs to move, and though I
l.hrew them off the pan two or three
iimes, they struggled back upon it,
which perhaps was only natural,
[ i3 ]

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
because as soon as they feU through
they could see nowhere else to make
for. To me, however, this seemed
to speU "the end." Fortunately, I
had with me a smaU black spaniel,
almost a featherweight, with large
furry paws, caUed "Jack," who acts
as my mascot and incidentaUy as my
retriever. This at once flashed into
my mind, and I felt I had stiU one
more chance for life. So I spoke to
him and showed him the direction,
and then threw a piece of ice toward
the desired goal. Without a moment's
hesitation he made a dash for it, and
to my great joy got there safely, the
tough scale of sea ice carrying his
weight bravely. At once I shouted to
him to ' ' lie down," and this, too, he
immediately did, looking Uke a Uttle
black fuzz ball on the white setting.
( i4 ]

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
My leaders could now see him seated
there on the new piece of floe, and
when once more I threw them off
they understood what I wanted, and
fought their way to where they saw
the spaniel, carrying with them the
line that gave me the one chance for
my life. The other dogs followed
them, and after painful struggUng,
all got out again except one. Taking
all the run that I could get on my
little pan, I made a dive, slithering
with the impetus along the surface
"tiU once more I sank through. After
a long fight, however, I was able to
haul myself by the long traces on
to this new pan, having taken care
beforehand to tie the harnesses to
which I was holding under the dogs'
belUes, so that they could not slip
them off. But alas! the pan I was now
( i5 ]

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
on was not large enough to bear us
and was already beginning to sink,
so this process had to be repeated
immediately. 1 now realized that, though we
had been working toward the shore,
we had been losing ground aU the
time, for the off-shore wind had al
ready driven us a hundred yards far
ther out. But the widening gap kept
full of the pounded ice, through
which no man could possibly go,
I had decided I would rather stake
my chances on a long swim even
than perish by inches on the floe, as
there was no likelihood whatever of
being seen and rescued. But, keenly
though I watched, not a streak even
of clear water appeared, the intermin
able sish rising frombelow and fiUing
every gap as it appeared. We were
f i6 1

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
now resting on a piece of ice about
ten by twelve feet, which, as I found
when I came to examine it, was not
ice at all, but simply snow-covered
slob frozen into a mass, and Ifeared it
would very soon break up in the gen
eral turmoil of the heavy sea, which
was increasing as the ice drove off
shore before the wind.
At first we drifted in the direction
of a rocky point on which a heavy
surf was breaking. Here I thought
once again to swim ashore. But sud
denly we struck a rock. A large piece
broke off the already small pan, and
what was left swung round in the
backwash, and started right out to
sea. There was nothing for it now but
iohope for a rescue. Alas 1 there was
Uttle possibility of being seen. As I
[ 17 ]

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
have aheady mentioned, no one Uves
around this big bay. My only hope
was that the other komatik, knowing
I was alone and had failed to keep
my tryst, would perhaps come back
to look for me. This, however, as it
proved, they did not do.
The westerly wind was rising aU
the time, our coldest wind at this
time of the year, coming as it does
over the Gulf ice. It was tantalizing,
as I stood with next to nothing on,
thewindgoingthrough me and every
stitch soaked in ice-water, to see my
weU-stocked komatik some fifty yards
away. It was still above water, with
food, hot tea in a thermos bottle, dry
clothing, matches, wood, and every
thing on it for making a fire to attract
attention. It is easy to see a dark object on
[ 18 1

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
the ice in the daytime, for the gor-=
geous whiteness shows off the least
thing. But the tops of bushes and
large pieces of kelp have often de
ceived those looking out. Moreover,
within our memory nomanhasbeen
thus adrift on the bay ice. The
chances were about one in a thou
sand that I should be seen at all, and
if I were seen, I should probably be
mistaken for some piece of refuse.
To keep from freezing, I cut off
my long moccasins down to the feet,
strung out some line, split the legs,
and made a kind of jacket, which pro
tected my back from the wind down
as far as the waist, I have this jacket
still, and my friends assure me it
would make a good Sunday gar
ment, I had not drifted more than half
[ '9 1

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
a mile before I saw my poor komatik
disappear through the ice, which
was every minute loosening up into
the small pans that it consisted of,
and it seemed like a friend gone and
one more tie with home and safety
lost. To the northward, about a mile
distant, lay the mainland along which
I had passed so merrily in the morn
ing, — only, it seemed, afew moments
before. By mid-day I had passed the is
land to which I had crossed on the
ice bridge. I could see that the bridge
was gone now. If I could reach the
island I should only be marooned
and destined to die of starvation.
But there was little chance of that,
for 1 was rapidly driving into the
ever widening bay.
It was scarcely safe to move on
[ 20 I

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
my small ice raft, for fear of break
ing it. Yet I saw I must have the
skins of some of my dogs , — of which
I had eight on the pan, — if I was to
live the night out. There was now
some three to five miles between me
and the north side of the bay. There,
immense pans of Arctic ice, surging
to and fro on the heavy ground seas,
were thundering into the cliffs like
medieval battering-rams. It was evi
dent that, even if seen, I could hope
for no help from that quarter before
night. No boatcould live through the
surf. Unwinding the sealskin traces from
my waist, round which I had wound
them to keep the dogs from eating
them, I made a slip-knot, passed it
over the first dog's head, tied it round
my foot close to his neck, threw him

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
on his back, and stabbed him in the
heart. Poor beast I I loved him like
a friend, — a beautiful dog, — but we
could not aU hope to live. In fact, I
had no hope any of us would, at that
time, but it seemed better to dje
fighting. In spite of my care the struggUng
dog bit me rather badly in the leg.
I suppose my numb hands prevented
my holding his throat as I could or
dinarily do. Moreover, I must hold
the knife in the wound to the end,
as blood on the fur would freeze
solid and make the skin useless. In
this way I sacrificed two more large
dogs, receiving only one more bite,
though I fully expected that the pan
I was on would break up in the strug
gle. The other dogs, who were lick
ing their coats and trying to get dry,
[ ="3 ]

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
apparently took no notice of the fate
of their comrades, — but I was very
careful to prevent the dying dogs
crying out, for the noise of fighting
would probably have been foUowed
by the rest attacking the down dog,
and that was too close to me to be
pleasant, A short shrift seemed to me
better than a long one, and I envied
the dead dogs whose troubles were
over so quickly. Indeed, I came to
balance in my mind whether, if once
I passed into the open sea, it would
not be better by far to use my faith
ful knife on myself than to die by
inches. There seemed no hardship
in the thought. I seemed fully to
sympathize with the Japanese view of
hara-kiri. Working, however, saved me from
philosophizing. By the time I had
f 23 1

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
skinned these dogs, and with my
knife and some of the harness had
strung the skins together, I was ten
miles on my way, and it was getting
dark. Away to the northward I could
see a single Ught in the Uttle village
where I had slept the night before,
where I had received the kindly hos
pitaUty of the simple fishermen in
whose comfortable homes I have
spent many a night. I could not help
but think of them sitting down to
tea, with no idea that there was any
one watching them, for I had told
them not to expect me back for three
days. Meanwhile I had frayed out a smaU
piece of rope into oakum, and mixed
it with fat from the intestines of my
dogs, Alas, my match-box, which
[ 24 ]

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
was always chained to me, had
leaked, andmy matches were in pulp.
Had I been able to make a light, it
would have looked so unearthly out
there on the sea that I felt sure they
would see me. But that chance was
now cut off. However, I kept the
matches, hoping that I might dry
them if I lived through the night.
While working at the dogs, about
every five minutes I would stand up
and wave my hands toward the land.
I had no flag, and I could not spare
my shirt, for, wet as it was, it was
better than nothing in that freezing
wind, and, anyhow, it was already
nearly dark.
Unfortunately , the coves in among
the cliffs are so placed that only for
a very narrow space can the people
in any house see the sea. Indeed,
f 25 1

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
most of them cannot see it at all, so
that I could not in the least expect
any one to see me, even supposing
it had been dayUght,
Not daring to take any snow from
the surface of my pan to break the
wind with, I piled up the carcasses of
my dogs. With my skin rug I could
now sit down without getting soaked.
During these hours I had continuaUy
taken off all my clothes, wrung them
out, swung them one by one in the
wind, and put on first one and then
the other inside, hoping that what
heat there was in my body would thus
serve to dry them. In this I had been
fairly successful.
My feet gave me most trouble, for
they immediately got wet again be
cause my thin moccasins were easily
soaked through on the snow. I sud-
I '^O 1

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
denly thought of the way in which
the Lapps who tend our reindeer
manage for dry socks. They carry
grass with them, which they ravel
up and pad into their shoes. Into
this they put their feet, and then pack
the rest with more grass, tying up
the top with a binder. The ropes of
the harness for our dogs are carefuUy
sewed aU over with two layers of
flannel in order to make them soft
against the dogs' sides. So, as soon
as I could sit down, I started with my
trusty knife to rip up the flannel.
Though my fingers were more or less
frozen, I was able also to ravel out the
rope, put it into my shoes, and use
my wet socks inside my knicker
bockers, where, though damp, they
served to break the wind. Then,
tying the narrow strips of flannel to-
[ 27 ]

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
gether, I bound up the top of the
moccasins, Lapp-fashion, and car
ried the bandage on up over my knee,
making a ragged though most excel
lent puttee.
As to the garments I wore, I had
opened recently a box of footbaU
clothes I had not seen for twenty
years. I had found my old Oxford
University footbedl running shorts
and a pair of Richmond FootbaU
Qub red, yeUow, and black stockings,
exactly as I wore them twenty years
ago. These with a flannel shirt and
sweater vest were aow aU I had left.
Coat, hat, gloves, oilskins, every
thing else, were gone, and I stood
there in that odd costume, exactly as
I stood twenty years ago on a footbaU
field, reminding me of the Uttle girl
of a friend, who, when told she was
I 28 1

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
dying, asked to be dressed in her
Sunday frock to go to heaven in. My
costume, being very light, dried all
the quicker, until afternoon. Then
nothing would dry anymore, every
thing freezing stiff. It had been an
ideal costume to struggle through
the slob ice, I reaUy believe the con
ventional garments missionaries are
supposed to affect would have been
fatal. My occupation tiU what seemed
like midnight was unravelling rope,
and with this I padded out my knick
ers inside, and my shirt as well,
though it was a clumsy job, for I
could not see what I was doing. Now,
getting my largest dog. Doc, as big
as a wolf and weighing ninety-two
pounds, I made him Ue down, so that
I could cuddle round him, I then
[ 29 ]

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
wrapped the three skins around me,
arranging them so that 1 could lie on
one edge, while the other came just
over my shoulders and head.
My own breath coUecting inside
the newly flayed skin must have had
a soporific effect, for I was soon fast
asleep. One hand I had kept warm
against the curled up dog, but the
other, being gloveless, had frozen,
and I suddenly awoke, shivering
enough, I thought, to break my
fragile pan. What I took at first to
be the sun was just rising, but I soon
found it was the moon, and then I
knew it was about half-past twelve.
The dog was having an exceUent
time. He had n't been cuddled so
warm aU winter, and he resented my
moving with low growls tiU he found
it wasn't another dog,
[ 3o ]

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
The wind was steadily driving
me now toward the open sea, and I
could expect, short of a miracle, no
thing but death out there. Some
how, one scarcely felt justified in
praying for a miracle. But we have
learned down here to pray for things
we want, and, anyhow, just at that
moment the miracle occurred. The
wind fell off suddenly , and came with
a light air from the southward, and
then dropped stark calm. The ice
was now "all abroad," which I was
sorry for, for there was a big safe
pan not twenty yards away from me.
If I could have got on that, I might
have killed my other dogs when the
time came, and with their coats I
could hope to hold out for two or
three days more, and with the food
and drink their bodies would offer
[ 3. ]

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
me need not at least die of hunger
or thirst. To teU the truth, they were
so big and strong I was half afraid to
tackle them with only a sheath-knife
on my smaU and unstable raft.
But it was now freezing hard. I
knew the calm water between us
would form into cakes, and I had
to recognize that the chance of get
ting near enough to escape on to it
was gone. If, on the other hand, the
whole bay froze solid again I had yet
another possible chance . For my pan
would hold together longer and I
should be opposite another viUage,
caUed Goose Cove, at dayUght, and
might possibly be seen from there.
I knew that the komatiks there would
be starting at daybreak over the lulls
for a parade of Orangemen about
twenty miles away. Possibly, there-
f 32 1

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
fore, I might be seen as they climbed
thehills. So I lay down, and went to
sleep again.
It seems impossible to say how
long one sleeps, but I woke with a
sudden thought in my mind that I
must have a flag ; but again I had no
pole and no flag. However, I set to
work in the dark to disarticulate the
legs of my dead dogs, which were
now frozen stiff, and which were all
that offered a chanceof carrying any
thing like a distress signal. Cold as
it was, I determined to sacrifice my
shirt for that purpose with the first
streak of dayUght,
It took a long time in the dark
to get the legs off, and when I had
patiently marled them together with
old harness rope and the remains of
the skin traces, it was the heaviest
[ 33 ]

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
and crookedest flag-pole it has ever
been my lot to see, I had had no food
from six o'clock the morning before,
when I had eaten porridge and bread
and butter. I had, however, a rub
ber band which I had been wearing
instead of one of my garters, and I
chewed that for twenty-four hours.
It saved me from thirst and hunger,
oddly enough. It was not possible
to get a drink from my pan, for it
was far too salty. But anyhow that
thought did not distress me much,
for as from time to time I heard the
cracking and grinding of the newly
formed slob, it seemed that my de
voted boat must inevitably soon go
to pieces.
At last the sun rose, and the time
came for the sacrifice of my shirt. So
I stripped, and, much to my surprise,
[ 34 ]

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
found it not half so cold as I had an
ticipated, I now re-formed my dog
skins with the raw side out, so that
they made a kind of coat quite rival-
Ung Joseph's, But, with the rising
of the sun, the frost came out of the
joints of my dogs' legs, and the fric
tion caused by waving it made my
flag-pole almost tie itself in knots.
StiU, I could raise it three or four feet
above my head, which was very im
portant. Now, however, I found that in
stead of being as far out at sea as I
had reckoned, I had drifted back in a
northwesterly direction, and was off
some cliffs known as Ireland Head.
Near these there was a little village
looking seaward, whence I should
certainly have been seen. But, aslhad
myself, earUer in the winter, been
[ 35 ]

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
night - bound at this place, I had
learnt there was not a single soul Uv
ing there at aU this winter. The peo
ple had all, as usual, migrated to the
winter houses up the bay, where they
get together for schooling and social
purposes. I soon found it was impossible to
keep waving so heavy a flag aU the
time, and yet I dared not sit down,
for that might be the exact moment
some one would be in a position to
see me from the hills. The only thing
in my mind was how long I could
stand up and how long go on waving
that pole at the cliffs. Once or twice
I thought I saw men against their
snowy faces, which, I judged, were
about five and a half miles from me,
but they were only trees. Once, also,
I thought I saw a boat approaching.
[ 36 J

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
A glittering object kept appearing
and disappearing on the water, but
it was only a small piece of ice spar
kling in the sun as it rose on the sur
face, I think that the rocking of my
cradle up and down on the waves had
helped me to sleep, for I felt as well
as ever I did in my life ; and with the
hope of a long sunny day, I felt sure
I was good to last another twenty-
four hours, — if my boat would hold
out and not rot under the sun's rays.
Each time Isat down torest,my big
dog "Doc" came and kissed my face
and then walked to the edge of the
ice-pan, returning again to where I
was huddled up, as if to say, "Why
don't you come along? Surely it is
time to start." The other dogs also
were now moving about very rest^
lessly, occasionally trying to satisfy
[ 37 j

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
their hunger by gnawing at the dead
bodies oftheir brothers,
I determined, at mid-day, to kiU a
big Eskimo dog and drink his blood,
as I had read only a few days before
in "Farthest North " of Dr , Nansen's
doing, — that is, if Isurvived the bat
tle with him, I could not help feeUng,
even then, my ludicrous position,
and I thought, if ever I got ashore
again, I should have to laugh at my
self standing hour after hour waving
my shirt at those lofty cliffs, which
seemed to assume a kind of sardonic
grin, so that I could almost imagine
they were laughing at me. At times
I could not help thinking of the good
breakfast that my colleagues were en
joying at the back of those same cliffs,
and of the snug fire and the comfort
able room which we caU our study.
[ 38 1

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
I can honestly say that from first
to last not a single sensation of fear
entered my mind, even when I was
struggUng in the slob ice. Somehow
it did not seem unnatural ; I had been
through the ice half a dozen times
before. For the most part I felt very
sleepy, and the idea was then very
strong in my mind that I should soon
reach the solution of the mysteries
that I had been preaching about for
so many years.
Only the previous night (Easter
Sunday) at prayers in the cottage, we
had been discussing the fact that the
soul was entirely separate from the
body, that Christ's idea of the body
as the temple in which the soul
dwells is so amply borne out by
modern science. We had talked of
thoughts from that admirable book,
[ 39 ]

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
"Brain and Personality," by Dr.
Thompson of New York, and also
of the same subject in the light of a
recent operation performed at the
Johns Hopkins Hospital by Dr. Har
vey Cushing. The doctor had re
moved from a man's brain two large
cystic tumors without giving the
man an anaesthetic, and the patient
had kept up a running conversation
with him all the while the doctor's
fingers were working in his brain.
It had seemed such a striking proof
that ourselves and our bodies are
two absolutely different things.
Our eternal Ufe has always been
with me a matter of faith. It seems
to me one of those problems that
must always be a mystery to know
ledge. But my own faith in this mat
ter had been so untroubled that it
[ 4o ]

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
seemed now almost natural to be
leaving through this portal of death
from an ice-pan. In many ways, also,
I could see how a death of this kind
might be of value to the particular
work that I am engaged in. Except
for my friends, I had nothing I could
think of to regret whatever. Cer
tainly, I should like to have told them
the story. But then onedoes notcarry
folios of paper in running shorts
which have no pockets, and all my
writing gear had gone by the board
with the komatik,
I could still see a testimonial to my
self some distance away in my khaki
overaUs, which I had left on another
pan in the struggle of the night be
fore. They seemed a kind of com
pany, and would possibly be picked
up and suggest the true story. Run-
[ 4i ]

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
ning through my head all the time,
quite unbidden, were the words of
the old hymn : —
' ' My God, my Fatlier, while I stray
Far from my iiome on life's dark way,
Oil, teach me from my heart to say,
Thy will hedone I "
It is a hymn we hardly ever sing
out here, and it was an unconscious
memory of my boyhood days.
It was a perfect morning, — a co
balt sky, an ultramarine sea, a golden
sun, an almost wasteful extravagance
of crimson over hills of purest snow,
which caught a reflected glow from
rock and crag. Between me and the
hiUs lay miles of rough ice and long
veins of thin black slob that had
formed during the night. For the
foreground there was my poor, grue
some pan, bobbing up and down on
[ 4=" ]

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
the edge of the open sea, stained with
blood, and littered with carcasses and
debris. It was smaller than last night,
and I noticed also that the new ice
from the water melted under the
dogs' bodies had been formed at the
expense of its thickness. Five dogs,
myself in colored footbaU costume,
and a bloody dogskin cloak, with a
gay flannel shirt on a pole of frozen
dogs' legs, completed the picture.
The sun was almost hot by now, and
I was conscious of a surplus of heat
inmy skin coat, I began to look long
ingly at one of my remaining dogs,
for an appetite will rise even on an
ice-pan, and that made me think of
fire. So once again I inspected my
matches. Alas 1 the heads were in
paste, aU but three or four blue-top
wax ones, [43 1

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
These I now laid out to dry, whUe
I searched about on my snow-pan to
see if I could get a piece of trans
parent ice to make a burning-glass.
For I was pretty sure that with aU
the unravelled tow I had stuffed into
my leggings, and with the fat of my
dogs, I could make smoke enough
to be seen if only I could get a Ught.
I had found a piece which I thought
would do, and had gone back to wave
my flag, which 1 did every two min
utes, when I suddenly thought I saw
again the glitter of an oar. It did not
seem possible, however, for it must
be remembered it was not water
which lay between me and the land,
but slob ice, which a mile or two in
side me was very heavy. Even if peo
ple had seen me, I did not think they
could get through, though I knew
[ 44 J

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
that the whole shore would then
be trying. Moreover, there was no
smoke rising on the land to give me
hope that I. had been seen. There
had been no gun-flashes in the night,
and I felt sure that, had any one seen
me, there would have been a bonfire
on every hill to encourage me to
keep going.
So I gave it up, and went on with
my work. But the next time I went
back to my flag, the glitter seemed
very distinct, and though it kept dis
appearing as it rose and fell on the
surface, I kept my eyes strained upon
it, for my dark spectacles had been
lost, and I was partly snowblind.
I waved my flag as high as I could
raise it, broadside on. At last, beside
the glint of the white oar, I made out
the black streak of the hull, I knew
[ 45 1

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
that, if the pan held on for another
hour, I should be aU right.
With that strange perversity of
the human intellect, the first thing
I thought of was what trophies I
could carry with my luggage from
the pan, and I pictured the dog-bone
flagstaff adorning my study. (The
dogs actuaUy ate it afterwards.) I
thought of preserving my ragged
puttees with our coUection of curios
ities, I lost no time now at the burn
ing-glass. My whole mind was de
voted to making sure I should be
seen, and I moved about as much as
I dared on the raft, waving my sorry
token aloft.
At last there could be no doubt
aboutit: the boat was getting nearer
and nearer, I could see that my res
cuers were franticaUy waving, and,
^ [ 46 ]

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
when they came within shoutingdis-
tance, 1 heard some one cry out,
' ' Don' t get excited. Keep on the pan
whereyou are," They were infinitely
more excited than I, Already to me
it seemed just as natural now to be
saved as, half an hour before, it had
seemed inevitable I should be lost,
and had my rescuers only known, as
I did, the sensation of a bath in that
ice when you could not dry yourself
afterwards, they need not have ex
pected me to follow the example of
the apostle Peter and throw myself
into the water.
As the man in the bow leaped
from the boat on to my ice raft and
grasped both my hands in his, not a
word was uttered, I could see in his
face the strong emotions he was try
ing hard to force back, though in
[ 47 ]

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
spite of himself tears trickled down
his cheeks. It was the same with each
of the others of my rescuers, nor was
there any reason to be ashamed of
them. These were not the emblems
of weak sentimentaUty, but the evi
dences of the realization of the deep
est and noblest emotion of which the
human heart is capable, the vision
that God has use for us his creatures,
the sense of that supreme joy of the
Christ, — the joy of unselfish service.
After the hand-shake and swallow
ing a cup of warm tea that had been
though tfuUy packed in a bottle, we
hoisted in my remaining dogs and
started for home. To drive the boat
home there were not only five New
foundland fishermen at the oars, but
ive men with Newfoundland muscles
in their backs , and five as brave hearts
I 48 ]

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
as ever beat in the bodies of human
beings. So, slowly but steadily, we forged
through to the shore, now jumping
out on to larger pans and forcing
them apart with the oars, now haul
ing the boat out and dragging her
over, when the jam of ice packed
tightly in by the rising wind was im
possible to get through otherwise.
My first question, when at last we
found our tongues, was, "How ever
did you happen to be out in the boat
in this ice?" To my astonishment
they told me that the previous night
four men had been away on a long
headland cutting out some dead harp
seals that they had killedin the fall and
left to freeze up in a rough wooden
store they had built there, and that as
they were leaving for home, my pan
I 49 ]

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
of ice had drifted out clear of Hare
Island, and one of them, with his
keen fisherman's eyes, had seen
something unusual. They at once re
turned to their viUage, saying there
was something alive drifting out to
sea on the floe ice. But their report
had been discredited, for the people
thought that it could be only the top
of some tree.
All the time I had been driving
along I knew that there was one man
on that coast who had a good spy
glass. He teUs me he instantly got up
in the midst of his supper, on hear
ing the news, and hurried over the
cliffs to the lookout, carrying his
trusty spy-glass with him. Immedi
ately, dark as it was, he saw that
without any doubt there was a man
out on the ice. Indeed, he saw me
[ 5o ]

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
wave my hands every now and again
towards the shore. By a very easy
process of reasoning on so uninhab
ited a shore, he at once knew who it
was, though some of the men argued
that it must be some one else. Little
had I thought, as night was closing
in, that away on that snowy hilltop
lay a man with a telescope patiently
searching those miles of ice for me.
Hastily they rushed back to the vil
lage and at once went down to try to
launch a boat, but that proved to be
impossible. Miles of ice lay between
them and me, the heavy sea was hurl
ing great blocks on the landwash,
and night was already falling, the
wind blowing hard on shore.
The whole village was aroused,
and messengers were despatched at
once along the coast, and lookouts
[ 5i ]

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
told off to all the favorable points,
so that while I considered myself a
laughing-stock, bowing with my flag
to those unresponsive cUffs, there
were really many eyes watching me.
One man told me that with his glass
he distinctly saw me waving the shirt
flag. There was littlyv slumber that
night in the viUages, and even the
men told me there were few dry
eyes, as they thought of the impossi
bility of saving me from perishing.
We are not given to weeping over
much on this shore, but there are
tears that do a man honor.
Before daybreak this fine volun
teer crew had been gotten together.
The boat, with such a force behind
it of will power, would, I believe,
have gone through anything. And,
after seeing the heavy breakers
t 52 1

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
through which we were guided,
loaded with their heavy ice battering-
rams, when at last we ran through
the harbor-mouth with the boat on
our return, I knew weU what wives
and children had been thinking of
when they saw their loved ones put
out. Only two years ago I remember
a fisherman's wife watching her hus
band and three sons take out a boat
to bring in a stranger that was show
ing flags for a pilot. But the boat and
its occupants have not yet come
back. Every soul in the village was on
the beach as we neared the shore.
Every soul was waiting to shake
hands when I landed. Even with the
grip that one after another gave me,
some no longer trying to keep back
the-tears, I did not find out my hands
r 53 1

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
were frost-burnt, — a fact I have not
been slow to appreciate since, how
ever, I must have been a weird sight
as I stepped ashore, tied up in rags,
stuffed out with oakum, wrapped in
the bloody skins of dogs, with no
hat, coat, or gloves besides, and only
a pair of short knickers. It must have
seemed to some as if it were the old
man of the sea coming ashore.
But no time was wasted before a
pot of tea was exactly where I wanted
it to be, and some hot stew was lo
cating itself where 1 had intended an
hour before the blood of one of my
remaining dogs should have gone.
Rigged out in the warm garments
that fishermen wear, I started with
a large team as hard as I could race
for the hospital, for I had learnt that
the news had gone over that I was
f 54 ]

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
lost. It was soon painfuUy impressed
upon me that I could not much enjoy
the ride, for I had to be hauled like
a log up the hills, my feet being frost-
burnt so that I could not walk. Had
I guessed this before going into the
house, I might have avoided much
trouble. It is time to bring this egotistic nar
rative to an end. ' ' Jack " lies curled
up by my feet while I write this short
account, ' ' Brin " is once again lead
ing and lording it over his fellows,
' ' Doc " and the other survivors are
not forgotten, now that we have
again returned to the less romantic
episodes of a mission hospital life.
There stands in our hallway a bronze
tablet to the memory of three noble
dogs, Moody, Watch, and Spy, whose
lives were given for mine on the ice.
[ 55 J

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
In my home in England my brother
has placed a duplicate tablet, and has
added these words , " Not one of them
is forgotten before your Father which
is in heaven," And this I most fuUy
believe to be true. The boy whose life
I was intent on saving was brought
to the hospital a day or two later in
a boat, the ice having cleared off the
coast not to retum for that season.
He was operated on successfuUy, and
is even now on the high road to re
covery. We aU love life. I was glad
to be back once more with possibly
a new lease of it before me. I had
learned on the pan many things, but
chiefly that the one cause for regret,
when we look back on a Ufe which
we think is closed forever, wiU be
the fact that we have wasted its op
portunities. As I went to sleep that
[ 56 ]

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
first night there still rang in my ears
the same verse of the old hymn
which had been my companion on
the ice, "Thy wiU, not mine, 0
Lord."

APPENDIX

APPENDIX
One of Dr, GrenfeU's volunteer help
ers. Miss Luther of Providence, R, I.,
contributes the following account of
the rescue as recited in the New
foundland vernacular by one of the
rescuing party,
' ' One day, about a week after Dr.
GrenfeU's return," says Miss Luther,
"two men came in from Griquet,
fifteen miles away. They had walked
aU that distance, though the trail
was heavy with soft snow and they
often sank to their waists and waded
through brooks and ponds. 'We just
felt we must see the doctor and teU
him what 't would 'a' meant to us,
if he'd been lost.' Perhaps nothing
[ 6i ]

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
but the doctor's own tale could be
more graphic than what was told by
George Andrews, one of the crew
who rescued him,"
THE rescuers' STORY
' ' It was wonderfu' bad weather that
Monday mornin'. Th' doctor was to
Lock's Cove, None o' we thought o'
'is startin' out, I don't think th' doc
tor hisself thought o' goin' at first an'
then 'e sent th' two men on ahead for
to meet us at th' tilt an' said Uke 's 'e
was goin' after aU,
"'Twas even' when us knew 'e
was on th! ice, George Davis seen un
first, 'E went to th' cliff to look for
seal, Itwas after sunset an' half dark,
but 'e thought 'e saw somethin' on
th' ice an' 'e ran for George Read an'
'e got 'is spy-glass an' made out a
f 62 1

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
man an' dogs on a pan an' knowed it
war th' doctor,
' ' It was too dark fur we t' go t' un,
but us never slept at aU, aU night.
I could n' sleep. Us watched th' wind
an' knew if it did n' blow too hard us
could get un, — though 'e was then
three mile off a'ready. So us waited
for th' daylight. No one said who
was goin' out in th' boat. Un 'ud
say, 'Is you goin' ? ' An' another, 'Is
you?' I didn' say, but I knowed
what I 'd do.
"As soon as 't was light us went to
th' cUff wi' th' spy-glass to see if us
could see un, but thar war n't no-
thin' in sight. Us know by the wind
whar t' look fur un, an' us launched
th' boat. George Read an' 'is two
sons, an' George Davis, what seenun
first, an' me, was th' crew. George
[63 j

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
Read was skipper-man an' th' rest
was just youngsters. The sun was
warm, — you mind't was afinemorn-
in\ — an' us started in our shirt an'
braces fur us knowed thar 'd be hard
work to do. I knowed thar was a
chance o' not comin' back at aU,
but it didn' make no difference, I
knowed I 'd as good a chance as any,
an' 'twa^ for ih' doctor, an' 'is life's
worth many, an' somehow I couldn'
let a man go out Uke dat wi^out try-
in^ fur un, an' I think us aU felt th'
same. "Us 'ad a good strong boat an'
four oars, an' took a hot kettle o' tea
an' food for a week, for us thought
u 'd 'ave t' go far an' p'rhaps lose th^
boat an' 'ave t' walk ashore un th' ice.
I din' 'ope to find the doctor aUve an'
kept lookin' for a sign of un on th'
[ 64 1

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
pans. 'Twa' no' easy gettin' to th'
pans wi' a big sea runnin' I Th' big
pans 'ud sometimes heave together
an' near crush th' boat, an' some
times us ^ad t' git out an' haul her
over th' ice t' th* water again'. Then
us come t' th*^ slob ice where th' pan
*ad ground together, an' 'twas aU
thick, an' that was worse 'n any. Us
saw th' doctor about twenty minutes
afore us got V un. 'E was wavin' 'is
flag an' I seen 'im. 'E was on a pan
no bigger 'n this flor, an' I dunno
what ever kep' un fro' goin' abroad,
for 't was n't ice, 't was packed snow.
Th' pan was away from even th' slob,
floatin' by hisself, an' th' open water
all roun', an' 't was just across fl-o'
Goose Cove, an' outsideo' that there'd
been no hope. I think th' way th' pan
held together was on account o' th'
I 65 ]

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
dogs' bodies meltin' it an' 't froze
hard durin' th' night. 'E was level
with th' water an' th' sea washin'
over us all th' time.
' ' When us got near un, it did n'
seem like 'twas th' doctor. 'E looked
so old an' 'is face such a queer color.
'E was very solemn-like when us
took un an' th' dogs on th' boat. No
un felt Uke sayin' much, an' 'e 'ardly
said nothin' tiU us gave un some tea
an' loaf an' then 'e talked. I s'pose
'e was sort o' faint-Uke. Th' first
thing 'e said was, how wonderfu'
sorry 'e was o' gettin' into such a
mess an' givin' we th' trouble o'
comin' out for un. Us tol' un not to
think o' that ; us was glad to do it for
un, an' 'e 'd done it for any one o' we,
many times over if 'e 'ad th' chance ;
— an' so 'e would. An' then 'e fretted
[ 66]

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
about th' b'y 'e was goin' to see, it
bein' too late to reach un, an' us tol'
un 'is life was worth so much more 'n
th' b'y, fur 'e could save others an'
th' b'y couldn'. But 'e stiU fretted.
' ' 'E 'ad ripped th' dog-harnesses
an' stuffed th' oakum in th' legs
o' 'is pants to keep un warm. 'E-
showed it to we. An' 'e cut off th'
tops o' 'is boots to keep th' draught
from 'is back. 'E must 'a' worked 'ard
aU night. 'E said 'e droled off once
or twice, but th' night seemed won
derfu' long.
" Us took un off th' pan at about
half-past seven, an' 'ad a 'ard fight
gettin' in, th' sea stiU runnin' 'igh.
'E said 'e was proud to see us comin'
for un, and so 'e might, for it grew
wonderfu' cold in th' day and th' sea
so 'igh the pan couldn' 'a' Uved out-
( 67 ]

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
side. 'E would n' stop when us got
ashore, but must go right on, an'
when 'e 'ad dry clothes an' was a bit
warm, us sent un to St, Anthony
with a team.
"Th' next night, an' for nights
after, I could n' sleep. I 'd keep seein'
that man standin' on th' ice, an' I 'd
be sorter half-awake like, sayin' , ' But
not th' doctor. Sure not th' doctor.^ "
There was silence for a few mo
ments, and George Andrews looked
out across the blue harbor to the
sea, ' ' 'E sent us watches an' spy-glass
es," said he, " an' pictures o' hisself
that one o' you took o' un, made
large an' in a frame, George Read
an' me 'ad th' watches an' th' others '
'ad th' spy-glasses. 'Ere 's th' watch.
It 'as ' In memory o' AprU 21st' on
[ 68 ]

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN
it, but us don't need th' things to
make we remember it, tho' we 're
wonderful glad t' 'ave 'em from th'
doctor."

RIVERSIDE LITERATURE SERIES

{Cont{n%ed from inside front cover)
.47. Pope's Kape of the Lock, etc.
i4S, Hawtliorne's Mai'ble Fauu.
149. Shaliespeare's Twelfth Night.
150. Ouida'a Dog of FJauders, etc.
151. Ewing's Jackauapes, etc.
152. Martineau's The Peasant and the Prince.
153. Shakespeare's MidsumiiierNight's Dream.
154. Shakespeare's Tempest.
155. Irving's Life Of Goldsmith.
156. Tennyson's Gareth and Lynette, etc.
157. The Song of Roland.
158. Malory's Merlin and Sir Balin.
159. B6owulf.
160. Spenser's Faerie Queene. Book I.
161. Dickens's Tide of Two Cities.
1G2. Prose and Poetry of Cardinal Newman.
163. Shakespeare's Henry V.
164. De Quincey's Joan of Arc, etc.
165, Scott's Queiitiu Durward.
166. Carlyle's Heroes and Hero-Worship.
1C7. Longfellow's Autobiographical Poems.
108. Slielley's Poems.
169. Lowell's My Garden Acquaintance, etc.
170. Lamb's Essays of Elia.
171,172. Emerson's Kssays.
173. Kate Douglas Wiggin's Flag-Raising.
174, Kate Douglas Wiggin's Finding a Home.
175. Whittier's Autobiographical Poema.
176, Burroughs's Afoot and Afloat.
177. Bacon's Essays.
178. Selections from John Ruskin.
179. King Arthur Stoiies from Malory.
180. Palmer's Odyssey.
181. Goldsmith's The Good-Natnred Man.
182. Goldsmith's She Stoops to Conquer.
183. Old English and Scottish Ballads.
184. Shakespeare's King Lear.
185. Moores's Life of Lincoln.
186, Thoreau's Camping in the Maine Woods.
187, 188. Huxley's Autobiography, and Essays,
!S9. Byron's Cliilde Harold, Canto IV, etc.
'90. Wasliington's Farewell AddreBB,andWeb-
Bter's Bunker HiU bration.
91. The Second Shepherds' Play, etc,
192. Mrs. GaakeU'a Cranford.
193. WiUiams's jEneid.
194. Irving's Bracebndge Hall. Selections.
195. Thoreau's Walden.
196, Sheridan's The Rivals.
197, Parton's Captains of Industry. Selected.
198, 199, Macaulay's Lord Clive, and W. Hast
ings.
200. Howells's The Rise of Silas Lapham.
201. Harris's Little Mr.Thimblefinger Stories.
202. Jevrett's The Night Before Thanksgiving.
203. Shumway's Nibelungenlied.
204. Sheffield's Old Testament Narrative.
205, Powers's A Dickens Reader.
20(i. Goethe's Faust. Part I.
207. Cooper's The Spy.
208. Aldrich's Story of a Bad Boy,
209, Warner's Being a Boy.
210, Kate Douglas Wiggin's Polly Oliver's
Problem.

211. Milton's Areopagitica, etc.
212. Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet.
213. Hemingway's Le Morte Arthur.
214. Moores's Life of Columbus.
215. Bret Harte's Tennessee's Partner, etc.
216. Ralph Roister Doister.
217. Gorboduc. (In preparation.)
218. Selected Lyrics from Wordsworth, Keata,
and Sltelley.
219. Selected Lyrics from. Dryden, Collins,
Gray, Cowper and Burns.
220. Southern Poems.
221. Macaulay's Speeches on Copyright; Lin
coln's Cooper Union Address.
223. Bripgs's College Life.
223. Selections from the Prose Writings of Mat
thew Arnold.
224-227. See nextjmge^ Library Binding.
228, Selected English Letters.
229. Jewett 's Play day Stories.
230. GrenfeU's Adrift on an Ice-Pan.
231. Muir's Stickeen.
232. Hnrte's Waif of the Plains, etc.
233. Tennyson's The Coming of Arthur, The
Holy Grail and the Passing of Arthur.
234. Selected Essays.

{Other titles to be announced)

(75)

RIVERSIDE LITERATURE SERIES
(,Coniinued)
EXTRA NUMBERS

A Anlerican Authors and their Birthdays.
£ Biographical Sketches of American Au
thors. '
C Warriner ' s Teaching of English Classics
in the Grades.
J) Scudder's Literature in School.
F Longfellow Leaflets.
n Whittier Leaflets.
M Holmes Leaflets.
1 Thomas's How to Teach English Clas
sics.
J Holbrook's Northland Heroes.
L The Riverside Song Book.
M Lowell's Fable for Critics.
N Selections from American Authors.
O Lowell Leaflets.
P Holbrook's Hiawatha Primer.
Q Selections from English Authors.

B Hawthorne ' s Twice-Told Tales. Seled
H Irving's Essays' from Sketch Book.
lected. '
T Literature for the Study of LanguageJ
C A Dramatiz^on of. the Song of
watha.
V Holbrook ' s Book of Nature Myths .
W Brown's In the Days of Giants.
JC Poems for the Study of Language.
Y Warner's In the Wilderness.
Z Nine Selected Poems. "3 '
AA Coleridge's The Ancient Mariner i
Lowell's The Vision of Sir Launfa
Poe's The Raven,- Whittiar's SnoS
Bound, and Longifellow's The Coul
ship of Miles Stfindish.
Selections for Study and Memorizii

SB

CC

LIBRARY BINDING
135-136. Chaucer's Prologue, The Knight's Tale, and The Nun's Priest's Tale.
160. Spenser's Faerie Queene, Book I.
Carlyle's Heroes and Hero-Worship,
Shelley's Poems. Selected.
Bacon's Essays.
Selections from the Works of John Ruskin. ^^-^
181-182. Goldsmith's The Good-Natured Man, and She Stoics to Conquer.
183. Old English and Scottish BaUads.
187-188. Huxley's Autobiography and Selected Essays.
191. Second Shepherd's Play, Everyman, etc.
Milton's Areopagitica, etc.
Ralph Roister Doister.
Briggs's College Life.
Selections from the Prose Works of Matthew Arnold.
perry's The American Mind and American Idealism.
Newman's University Subjects.
Burroughs's Studies in Nature and Literature.
Bryce 's Promoting Good Citizenship.
Briggs' To College Girls.
Selected Literary Essays from James Russell Lowell.
Minimum College Requirements in English for Study.

166.168.177.178.

SII.
216.332.223.224.225.226.237.335.336,K.

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