112 THE NORTH POLE 



The next day was seemingly endless, and still we 

 lay there at Lincoln Bay, with a strong, raw, northeast 

 wind blowing steadily and with increasing violence. 

 The edge of the moving pack was only a few yards 

 from the ship, but we were fairly well protected by 

 large pieces which had grounded outside of us. Every 

 little while a big floe came rushing past, crowding 

 everything out of its way and giving our protectors 

 a shove that set them and us nearer the shore. From 

 the crow's nest we could see a little open water near 

 the east coast of the channel, but there was none in 

 our vicinity — only ice, ice, ice, of every imaginable 

 shape and thickness. 



Still another day, and the Roosevelt was in the 

 same position, with the ice crowding against her; but 

 at the crest of the high tide the grounded floe-berg 

 to which we were attached by cable went adrift, and 

 we all hurried on deck. The lines were hastily detached 

 from the berg. As the ice went south, it left a stretch 

 of open water before us about a mile long, and we 

 steamed northward along the shore, pushing our way 

 behind the grounded bergs, trying to find another 

 niche where we might be secure from the now rapidly 

 approaching pack. 



It was well for us that the wind was blowing vio- 

 lently off shore, as it eased the pressure of the pack 

 against us. One place seemed secure, and we were 

 making ready to attach the cables, when an ice-floe, 

 about an acre in extent with a sharp, projecting point 

 like the ram of a battleship, came surging along toward 

 the Roosevelt, and we were obliged to shift our position. 

 Before the ship was secured, she was again threatened 



