THE ICE FIGHT GOES ON 115 



her sufficiently to get her off again. So I decided to 

 dynamite the ice. 



I told Bartlett to get out his batteries and dyna- 

 mite, and to smash the ice between the Roosevelt and 

 the heavy floes outside, making a soft cushion for the 

 ship to rest on. The batteries were brought up from 

 the lazaret, one of the dynamite boxes lifted out with 

 caution, and Bartlett and I looked for the best places 

 in the ice for the charges. 



Several sticks of dynamite were wrapped in pieces 

 of old bagging and fastened on the end of long spruce 

 poles, which we had brought along specially for this pur- 

 pose. A wire from the battery had, of course, been 

 connected with one of the primers buried in the dyna- 

 mite. Pole, wire, and dynamite were thrust down 

 through cracks in the ice at several places in the 

 adjacent floes. The other end of each wire was then 

 connected with the battery, every one retreated to a 

 respectful distance on the far side of the deck, and a 

 quick, sharp push on the plunger of the battery sent 

 the electric current along the wires 



Rip! Bang! Boom! The ship quivered like a smitten 

 violin string, and a column of water and pieces of ice 

 went flying a hundred feet into the air, geyser fashion. 



The pressure of the ice against the ship being thus 

 removed, she righted herself and lay quietly on her 

 cushion of crushed ice — waiting for whatever might 

 happen next. As the tide lowered, the Roosevelt was 

 bodily aground from amidships forward, heeling first 

 to one side and then to the other with the varying 

 pressure of the ice. It was a new variation of "Rocked 

 in the Cradle of the Deep" — one that sent Eskimo 



