AN ICE BATTLE. 
211 
I have seen or read of approaches it. The voices of 
the ice and the heavy swash of the overturned hum- 
mock-tables are at this moment dinning in my ears. 
‘ All hands’ are on deck fighting our grim enemy. 
“Fourteen inches of solid ice thickness, with some 
half dozen of snow, are, with the slow uniform advance 
of a mighty propelling power, driving in upon our ves- 
sel. As they strike her, the semi-plastic mass is im- 
pressed with a mould of her side, and then, urged on 
by the force behind, slides upward, and rises in great 
vertical tables. When these attain their utmost height, 
still pressed on by others, they topple over, and form 
a great embankment of fallen tables. At the same 
time, others take a downward direction, and when 
pushed on, as in the other case, form a similar pile un- 
derneath. The side on which one or the other of these 
actions takes place for the time, varies with the direc- 
tion of the force, the strength of the opposite or resist- 
ing side, the inclination of the vessel, and the weight 
of the superincumbent mounds ; and as these condi- 
tions follow each other in varying succession, the ves- 
sel becomes perfectly imbedded after a little while in 
crumbling and fractured ice. 
“Perhaps no vessel has ever been in this position 
but our own. With matured ice, nothing of iron or 
wood could resist such pressure. As for the British 
vessels, their size would make it next to impossible 
for them to stand. Back’s ‘ Winter’ is the only thing 
I have read of that reminds me of our present predica- 
ment. No vessel has ever been caught by winter in 
these waters. 
“We are lifted bodily eighteen inches out of water. 
The hummocks are reared up around the ship, so as 
to rise in some cases a couple of feet above our bul- 
