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 +-----------------------------------------------------------+ | Transcriber's Note: | | | | The appendix contains dialect that has been carefully | | reproduced. | | | +-----------------------------------------------------------+

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 +--------------------------------------+ | By Wilfred T. Grenfell | | | | THE ADVENTURE OF LIFE. | | ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN. Illustrated. | | | | HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY | | BOSTON AND NEW YORK | +--------------------------------------+

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN

 [Illustration: (signed) Wilfred Grenfell]

ADRIFT ON ANICE-PAN

BYWILFRED THOMASON GRENFELLM. D. (OXON), C. M. G. 

ILLUSTRATED FROM PHOTOGRAPHSBY DR. GRENFELL AND OTHERS

BOSTON AND NEW YORKHOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY

COPYRIGHT 1909BY WILFRED THOMASON GRENFELLALL RIGHTS RESERVED

PUBLISHED JUNE 1909

CONTENTS

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH ix

ADRIFT ON AN ICE-PAN 1

APPENDIX 59

ILLUSTRATIONS

WILFRED THOMASON GRENFELL, M. D. (OXON), C. M. G _Frontispiece_

THE SETTLEMENT AT ST. ANTHONY 2

ON A JOURNEY FROM ST. ANTHONY 4

TRAVELLING ON BROKEN ICE 8

PART OF DR. GRENFELL'S TEAM 12

DR. GRENFELL AND JACK 20 WITH THE JACKET MADE FROM MOCCASINS

DOC 30

MEMORIAL TABLET, ST. ANTHONY'S HOSPITAL, NEWFOUNDLAND 54

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH

 "MOST NOBLE VICE-CHANCELLOR, AND YOU, EMINENT PROCTORS:

"A citizen of Britain is before you, once a student in thisUniversity, now better known to the people of the New World than toour own. This is the man who fifteen years ago went to the coast ofLabrador, to succor with medical aid the solitary fishermen of thenorthern sea; in executing which service he despised the perils of theocean, which are there most terrible, in order to bring comfort andlight to the wretched and sorrowing. Thus, up to the measure of humanability, he seems to follow, if it is right to say it of any one, inthe footsteps of Christ Himself, as a truly Christian man. Rightlythen we praise him by whose praise not he alone, but our Universityalso is honored. I present to you Wilfred Thomason Grenfell, that hemay be admitted to the degree of Doctor in Medicine, HONORIS CAUSA. "

Thus may be rendered the Latin address when, in May, 1907, for thefirst time in its history, the University of Oxford conferred thehonorary degree in medicine. With these fitting words was presented aman whose simple faith has been the motive power of his works, to whompain and weariness of flesh have called no stay since there wasdiscouragement never, to whom personal danger has counted as nothingsince fear is incomprehensible. "As the Lord wills, whether for wreckor service, I am about His business. " On November 9th of the precedingyear, the King of England gave one of his "Birthday Honors" to thesame man, making him a Companion of St. Michael and St. George(C. M. G. ). 

Wilfred Thomason Grenfell, second son of the Rev. Algernon SydneyGrenfell and Jane Georgiana Hutchinson, was born on the twenty-eighthday of February, eighteen hundred and sixty-five, at Mostyn HouseSchool, Parkgate, by Chester, England, of an ancestry which laid afirm foundation for his career and in surroundings which fitted himfor it. On both sides of his inheritance have been exhibited thecourage, patience, persistence, and fighting and teaching qualitieswhich are exemplified in his own abilities to command, to administer, and to uplift. 

On his father's side were the Grenvilles, who made good account ofthemselves in such cause as they approved, among them Basil Grenville, commander of the Royalist Cornish Army, killed at Lansdown in 1643 indefence of King Charles. 

 "Four wheels to Charles's wain: Grenville, Trevanion, Slanning, Godolphin slain. "

There was also Sir Richard Grenville, immortalized by Tennyson in "TheRevenge, " and John Pascoe Grenville, the right-hand man of AdmiralCochrane, who boarded the Spanish admiral's ship, the Esmeralda, onthe port side, while Cochrane came up on the starboard, when togetherthey made short work of the capture. Nor has the strain died out, asis demonstrated in the present generation by many of Dr. Grenfell'scousins, among them General Francis Wallace Grenfell, Lord Kilvey, andby Dr. Grenfell himself on the Labrador in the fight against diseaseand disaster and distress along a stormy and uncharted coast. 

On his mother's side, four of her brothers were generals or colonelsin the trying times of service in India. The eldest fought withdistinction throughout the Indian Mutiny and in the defence ofLucknow, and another commanded the crack cavalry regiment, the"Guides, " at Peshawar, and fell fighting in one of the turbulent Northof India wars. 

Of teachers, there was Dr. Grenfell's paternal grandfather, the Rev. Algernon Grenfell, the second of three brothers, house master at Rugbyunder Arnold, and a fine classical scholar, whose elder and youngerbrothers each felt the ancestral call of the sea and became admirals, with brave records of daring and success. 

Dr. Grenfell's father, after a brilliant career at Rugby School and atBalliol College, Oxford, became assistant master at Repton, and later, when he married, head master of Mostyn House School, a position whichhe resigned in 1882 to become Chaplain of the London Hospital. "He wasa man of much learning, with a keen interest in science, a remarkableeloquence, and a fervent evangelistic faith. "

Mostyn House School still stands, enlarged and modernized, in thecharge of Dr. Grenfell's elder brother, and in it his mother is stillthe real head and controlling genius. 

Parkgate, at one time a seaport of renown, when Liverpool was stillunimportant, and later a seaside health resort to which came thefashion and beauty of England, had fallen, through the silting of theestuary and the broadening of the "Sands of Dee, " to the level of ahamlet in the time of Dr. Grenfell's boyhood. The broad stretch ofseaward trending sand, with its interlacing rivulets of fresh andbrackish water, made a tempting though treacherous playground, alluring alike in the varied forms of life it harbored and in theadventure which whetted exploration. Thither came Charles Kingsley, Canon of Chester, who married a Grenfell, and who coupled his versewith scientific study and made geological excursions to the river'smouth with the then Master of Mostyn House School. In these excursionsthe youthful Wilfred was a participant, and therein he learned some ofhis first lessons in that accuracy of observation essential to hislater life work. 

Here in this trained, but untrammeled, boyhood, with an inheritedincentive to labor and an educated thirst for knowledge, away from thethrall of crowded communities, close to the wild places of nature, with the sea always beckoning and a rocking boat as familiar as theland, it is small wonder that there grew the fashioning of the purposeof a man, dimly at first, conceived in a home in which all, both oftradition and of teaching, bred faith, reverence, and the sense ofthanksgiving in usefulness. 

From the school-days at Parkgate came the step to Marlborough College, where three years were marked by earnest study, both in books and inplay, for the one gained a scholarship and the other an enduringinterest in Rugby football. Matriculating later at the University ofLondon, Grenfell entered the London Hospital, and there laid not onlythe foundation of his medical education, but that of his friendshipwith Sir Frederick Treves, renowned surgeon and daring sailor andmaster mariner as well. With plenty of work to the fore, as a hospitalinterne, the ruling spirit still asserted itself, and the youngdoctor became an inspiration among the waifs of the teeming city; hewas one of the founders of the great Lads' Brigades which have donemuch good, and fostered more, in the example that they have set forallied activities. Nor were the needs of his own bodily machineneglected; football, rowing, and the tennis court kept him incondition, and his athletics served to strengthen his appeals to theLondon boys whom he enrolled in the brigades. He founded theinter-hospital rowing club at Putney and rowed in the firstinter-hospital race; he played on the Varsity football team, and wonthe "throwing the hammer" at the sports. 

A couple of terms at Queen's College, Oxford, followed the Londonexperience, but here the conditions were too easy and luxurious forone who, by both inheritance and training, had within him theincentive to the strenuous life. Need called, misery appealed, themessage of life, of hope, and of salvation awaited, and the youngdoctor turned from Oxford to the medical mission work in which hisrecord stands among the foremost for its effectiveness and for thespirituality of its purpose. 

Seeking some way in which he could satisfy his medical aspirations, aswell as his desire for adventure and for definite Christian work, heappealed to Sir Frederick Treves, a member of the Council of the RoyalNational Mission to Deep Sea Fishermen, who suggested his joining thestaff of the mission and establishing a medical mission to thefishermen of the North Sea. The conditions of the life were onerous, the existing traffic in spirituous liquors and in all otherdemoralizing influences had to be fought step by step, prejudice andevil habit had to be overcome and to be replaced by better knowledgeand better desire, there was room for both fighting and teaching, andthe medical mission won its way. "When you set out to commend yourgospel to men who don't want it, there's only one way to go aboutit, --to do something for them that they'll be sure to understand. Themessage of love that was 'made flesh and dwelt amongst men' must bereincarnate in our lives if it is to be received to-day. " Thus cameabout the outfitting of the Albert hospital-ship to carry the messageand the help, by cruising among the fleets on the fishing-grounds, and the organization of the Deep Sea Mission; when this work was done, "when the fight had gone out of it, " Dr. Grenfell looked for anotherfield, for yet another need, and found it on that barren andinhospitable coast the Labrador, whose only harvest field is the sea. 

Six hundred miles of almost barren rock with outlying unchartedledges, --worn smooth by ice, else still more vessels would have foundwreckage there; a scant, constant population of hardy fishermen andtheir families, pious and God-fearing, most of them, but largely atthe mercy of the local traders, who took their pay in fish for thebare necessities of living, with a large account always on thetrader's side; with such medical aid and ministration as came onlyoccasionally, by the infrequent mail boat, and not at all in the longwinter months when the coast was firm beset with ice, --to such a placecame Dr. Grenfell in 1892 to cast in his lot with its inhabitants, tolive 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. Grenfell represents, administers, and animates on the Labrador coast, not only brings hope, new courage, and spiritual comfort to anisolated people in a desolate land, but cares for the sick andinjured, in its four hospitals and dispensary, provides housevisitation by means of dog-sledge journeys covering hundreds of milesin a year, teaches wholesome and righteous living, conductscoöperative stores, provides for orphans and for families bereft ofthe bread-winners by accidents of the sea, encourages thrift, andadministers justice, and adds to the wage-earning capacity andtherefore food-obtaining power by operating a sawmill, aschooner-building yard, and other productive industries. 

To accomplish this, to make of the scattered settlements a united andindependent people, to safeguard their future by such measures as theestablishment of a Seamen's Institute at St. John's, Newfoundland, andthe insurance of communication with the outside world, and to raise, by personal solicitation, the money needed for these enterprises, requires an unusual personality. Faith, courage, insight, foresight, the power to win, and the ability to command, --all of these and moreof 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 innorthern Newfoundland still winter. Everything was covered with snowand ice. I was walking back after morning service, when a boy camerunning over from the hospital with the news that a large team of dogshad come from sixty miles to the southward, to get a doctor on a veryurgent case. It was that of a young man on whom we had operated abouta fortnight before for an acute bone disease in the thigh. The peoplehad allowed the wound to close, the poisoned matter had accumulated, and we thought we should have to remove the leg. There was obviously, therefore, no time to be lost. So, having packed up the necessaryinstruments, dressings, and drugs, and having fitted out thedog-sleigh with my best dogs, I started at once, the messengersfollowing me with their team. 

My team was an especially good one. On many a long journey they hadstood by me and pulled me out of difficulties by their sagacity andendurance. 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. Theywere beautiful beasts: "Brin, " the cleverest leader on the coast;"Doc, " a large, gentle beast, the backbone of the team for power;"Spy, " a wiry, powerful black and white dog; "Moody, " a lop-earedblack-and-tan, in his third season, a plodder that never looked behindhim; "Watch, " the youngster of the team, long-legged and speedy, withgreat liquid eyes and a Gordon-setter coat; "Sue, " a large, darkEskimo, the image of a great black wolf, with her sharp-pointed andperpendicular ears, for she "harked back" to her wild ancestry;"Jerry, " a large roan-colored slut, the quickest of all my dogs on herfeet, and so affectionate that her overtures of joy had often sent mesprawling on my back; "Jack, " a jet-black, gentle-natured dog, morelike a retriever, that always ran next the sledge, and never lookedback but everlastingly pulled straight ahead, running always with hisnose to the ground. 

 [Illustration: THE SETTLEMENT AT ST. ANTHONY]

It was late in April, when there is always the risk of getting wetthrough the ice, so that I was carefully prepared with spare outfit, which included a change of garments, snow-shoes, rifle, compass, axe, and oilskin overclothes. The messengers were anxious that their teamshould travel back with mine, for they were slow at best and needed alead. 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 avillage about twenty miles on the journey before nightfall, and hadfed the dogs, and was gathering a few people for prayers when theycaught me up. 

During the night the wind shifted to the northeast, which brought infog and rain, softened the snow, and made travelling very bad, besides heaving a heavy sea into the bay. Our drive next morning wouldbe somewhat over forty miles, the first ten miles on an arm of thesea, on salt-water ice. 

 [Illustration: ON A JOURNEY]

In order not to be separated too long from my friends, I sent themahead two hours before me, appointing a rendezvous in a log tilt thatwe have built in the woods as a halfway house. There is no one livingon all that long coast-line, and to provide against accidents--whichhave happened 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 wasobliged to keep on what we call the "ballicaters, " or ice barricades, much farther up the bay than I had expected. The sea of the nightbefore had smashed the ponderous covering of ice right to thelandwash. There were great gaping chasms between the enormous blocks, which we call pans, and half a mile out it was all clear water. 

An island three miles out had preserved a bridge of ice, however, andby crossing a few cracks I managed to reach it. From the island it wasfour miles across to a rocky promontory, --a course that would beseveral miles shorter than going round the shore. Here as far as theeye could reach the ice seemed good, though it was very rough. Obviously, it had been smashed up by the sea and then packed in againby the strong wind from the northeast, and I thought it had frozentogether solid. 

All went well till I was about a quarter of a mile from thelanding-point. Then the wind suddenly fell, and I noticed that I wastravelling over loose "sish, " which was like porridge and probablymany feet deep. By stabbing down, I could drive my whip-handle throughthe thin coating of young ice that was floating on it. The sish iceconsists of the tiny fragments where the large pans have been poundingtogether on the heaving sea, like the stones of Freya's grinding mill. 

So quickly did the wind now come off shore, and so quickly did thepacked "slob, " relieved of the wind pressure, "run abroad, " thatalready I could not see one pan larger than ten feet square; moreover, the ice was loosening so rapidly that I saw that retreat wasabsolutely impossible. Neither was there any way to get off the littlepan I was surveying from. 

There was not a moment to lose. I tore off my oilskins, threw myselfon my hands and knees by the side of the komatik to give a larger baseto hold, and shouted to my team to go ahead for the shore. Before wehad gone twenty yards, the dogs got frightened, hesitated for amoment, and the komatik instantly sank into the slob. It was necessarythen for the dogs to pull much harder, so that they now began to sinkin also. 

Earlier in the season the father of the very boy I was going tooperate on had been drowned in this same way, his dogs tangling theirtraces around him in the slob. This flashed into my mind, and Imanaged to loosen my sheath-knife, scramble forward, find the tracesin the water, and cut them, holding on to the leader's trace woundround my wrist. 

 [Illustration: TRAVELLING ON BROKEN ICE]

Being in the water I could see no piece of ice that would bearanything up. But there was as it happened a piece of snow, frozentogether like a large snowball, about twenty-five yards away, nearwhere my leading dog, "Brin, " was wallowing in the slob. Upon this hevery shortly climbed, his long trace of ten fathoms almost reachingthere before he went into the water. 

This dog has weird black markings on his face, giving him theappearance of wearing a perpetual grin. After climbing out on the snowas if it were the most natural position in the world he deliberatelyshook the ice and water from his long coat, and then turned round tolook for me. As he sat perched up there out of the water he seemed tobe grinning with satisfaction. The other dogs were hopelessly bogged. Indeed, we were like flies in treacle. 

Gradually, I hauled myself along the line that was still tied to mywrist, till without any warning the dog turned round and slipped outof his harness, and then once more turned his grinning face to where Iwas struggling. 

It was impossible to make any progress through the sish ice byswimming, so I lay there and thought all would soon be over, onlywondering if any one would ever know how it happened. There was noparticular horror attached to it, and in fact I began to feel drowsy, as if I could easily go to sleep, when suddenly I saw the trace ofanother big dog that had himself gone through before he reached thepan, and though he was close to it was quite unable to force his wayout. Along this I hauled myself, using him as a bow anchor, but muchbothered by the other dogs as I passed them, one of which got on myshoulder, pushing me farther down into the ice. There was only a yardor so more when I had passed my living anchor, and soon I lay with mydogs around me on the little piece of slob ice. I had to help them onto it, working them through the lane that I had made. 

 [Illustration: PART OF DR. GRENFELL'S TEAM]

The piece of ice we were on was so small it was obvious we must soonall be drowned, if we remained upon it as it drifted seaward into moreopen water. If we were to save our lives, no time was to be lost. WhenI stood up, I could see about twenty yards away a larger pan floatingamidst the sish, like a great flat raft, and if we could get on to itwe should postpone at least for a time the death that already seemedalmost 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 toget one there. Marvellous to relate, when I had first fallen through, after I had cut the dogs adrift without any hope left of savingmyself, I had not let my knife sink, but had fastened it by two halfhitches to the back of one of the dogs. To my great joy there it wasstill, and shortly I was at work cutting all the sealskin tracesstill hanging from the dogs' harnesses, and splicing them togetherinto one long line. These I divided and fastened to the backs of mytwo leaders, tying the near ends round my two wrists. I then pointedout to "Brin" the pan I wanted to reach and tried my best to make themgo ahead, giving them the full length of my lines from two coils. Mylong sealskin moccasins, reaching to my thigh, were full of ice andwater. These I took off and tied separately on the dogs' backs. Mycoat, hat, gloves, and overalls I had already lost. At first, nothingwould induce the two dogs to move, and though I threw them off the pantwo or three times, they struggled back upon it, which perhaps wasonly natural, because as soon as they fell through they could seenowhere else to make for. To me, however, this seemed to spell "theend. " Fortunately, I had with me a small black spaniel, almost afeatherweight, with large furry paws, called "Jack, " who acts as mymascot and incidentally as my retriever. This at once flashed into mymind, and I felt I had still one more chance for life. So I spoke tohim and showed him the direction, and then threw a piece of ice towardthe 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 icecarrying his weight bravely. At once I shouted to him to "lie down, "and this, too, he immediately did, looking like a little black fuzzball on the white setting. My leaders could now see him seated thereon the new piece of floe, and when once more I threw them off theyunderstood what I wanted, and fought their way to where they saw thespaniel, carrying with them the line that gave me the one chance formy life. The other dogs followed them, and after painful struggling, all got out again except one. Taking all the run that I could get onmy little pan, I made a dive, slithering with the impetus along thesurface till once more I sank through. After a long fight, however, Iwas able to haul myself by the long traces on to this new pan, havingtaken care beforehand to tie the harnesses to which I was holdingunder the dogs' bellies, so that they could not slip them off. Butalas! the pan I was now on was not large enough to bear us and wasalready beginning to sink, so this process had to be repeatedimmediately. 

I now realized that, though we had been working toward the shore, wehad been losing ground all the time, for the off-shore wind hadalready driven us a hundred yards farther out. But the widening gapkept 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 thanperish by inches on the floe, as there was no likelihood whatever ofbeing seen and rescued. But, keenly though I watched, not a streakeven of clear water appeared, the interminable sish rising from belowand filling every gap as it appeared. We were now resting on a pieceof ice about ten by twelve feet, which, as I found when I came toexamine it, was not ice at all, but simply snow-covered slob frozeninto a mass, and I feared it would very soon break up in the generalturmoil of the heavy sea, which was increasing as the ice drove offshore before the wind. 

At first we drifted in the direction of a rocky point on which a heavysurf was breaking. Here I thought once again to swim ashore. Butsuddenly we struck a rock. A large piece broke off the already smallpan, and what was left swung round in the backwash, and started rightout to sea. 

There was nothing for it now but to hope for a rescue. Alas! there waslittle possibility of being seen. As I have already mentioned, no onelives around this big bay. My only hope was that the other komatik, knowing I was alone and had failed to keep my tryst, would perhapscome back to look for me. This, however, as it proved, they did notdo. 

The westerly wind was rising all the time, our coldest wind at thistime of the year, coming as it does over the Gulf ice. It wastantalizing, as I stood with next to nothing on, the wind goingthrough me and every stitch soaked in ice-water, to see mywell-stocked komatik some fifty yards away. It was still above water, with food, hot tea in a thermos bottle, dry clothing, matches, wood, and everything on it for making a fire to attract attention. 

It is easy to see a dark object on the ice in the daytime, for thegorgeous whiteness shows off the least thing. But the tops of bushesand large pieces of kelp have often deceived those looking out. Moreover, within our memory no man has been thus adrift on the bayice. The chances were about one in a thousand that I should be seen atall, and if I were seen, I should probably be mistaken for some pieceof 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, whichprotected my back from the wind down as far as the waist. I have thisjacket still, and my friends assure me it would make a good Sundaygarment. 

I had not drifted more than half a mile before I saw my poor komatikdisappear through the ice, which was every minute loosening up intothe small pans that it consisted of, and it seemed like a friend goneand one more tie with home and safety lost. To the northward, about amile distant, lay the mainland along which I had passed so merrily inthe morning, --only, it seemed, a few moments before. 

By mid-day I had passed the island to which I had crossed on the icebridge. I could see that the bridge was gone now. If I could reach theisland I should only be marooned and destined to die of starvation. But there was little chance of that, for I was rapidly driving intothe ever widening bay. 

 [Illustration: DR. GRENFELL AND JACK WITH THE JACKET MADE FROM MOCCASINS]

It was scarcely safe to move on my small ice raft, for fear ofbreaking it. Yet I saw I must have the skins of some of my dogs, --ofwhich I had eight on the pan, --if I was to live the night out. Therewas now some three to five miles between me and the north side of thebay. There, immense pans of Arctic ice, surging to and fro on theheavy ground seas, were thundering into the cliffs like medievalbattering-rams. It was evident that, even if seen, I could hope for nohelp from that quarter before night. No boat could live through thesurf. 

Unwinding the sealskin traces from my waist, round which I had woundthem to keep the dogs from eating them, I made a slip-knot, passed itover the first dog's head, tied it round my foot close to his neck, threw him on his back, and stabbed him in the heart. Poor beast! Iloved him like a friend, --a beautiful dog, --but we could not all hopeto live. In fact, I had no hope any of us would, at that time, but itseemed better to die fighting. 

In spite of my care the struggling dog bit me rather badly in the leg. I suppose my numb hands prevented my holding his throat as I couldordinarily do. Moreover, I must hold the knife in the wound to theend, 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 morebite, though I fully expected that the pan I was on would break up inthe struggle. The other dogs, who were licking their coats and tryingto get dry, apparently took no notice of the fate of theircomrades, --but I was very careful to prevent the dying dogs cryingout, for the noise of fighting would probably have been followed bythe rest attacking the down dog, and that was too close to me to bepleasant. A short shrift seemed to me better than a long one, and Ienvied the dead dogs whose troubles were over so quickly. Indeed, Icame to balance in my mind whether, if once I passed into the opensea, it would not be better by far to use my faithful knife on myselfthan to die by inches. There seemed no hardship in the thought. Iseemed fully to sympathize with the Japanese view of hara-kiri. 

Working, however, saved me from philosophizing. By the time I hadskinned these dogs, and with my knife and some of the harness hadstrung the skins together, I was ten miles on my way, and it wasgetting dark. 

Away to the northward I could see a single light in the little villagewhere I had slept the night before, where I had received the kindlyhospitality of the simple fishermen in whose comfortable homes I havespent many a night. I could not help but think of them sitting down totea, with no idea that there was any one watching them, for I had toldthem not to expect me back for three days. 

Meanwhile I had frayed out a small piece of rope into oakum, and mixedit with fat from the intestines of my dogs. Alas, my match-box, whichwas always chained to me, had leaked, and my matches were in pulp. HadI been able to make a light, it would have looked so unearthly outthere on the sea that I felt sure they would see me. But that chancewas now cut off. However, I kept the matches, hoping that I might drythem if I lived through the night. While working at the dogs, aboutevery 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, itwas better than nothing in that freezing wind, and, anyhow, it wasalready nearly dark. 

Unfortunately, the coves in among the cliffs are so placed that onlyfor a very narrow space can the people in any house see the sea. Indeed, most of them cannot see it at all, so that I could not in theleast expect any one to see me, even supposing it had been daylight. 

Not daring to take any snow from the surface of my pan to break thewind with, I piled up the carcasses of my dogs. With my skin rug Icould now sit down without getting soaked. During these hours I hadcontinually taken off all my clothes, wrung them out, swung them oneby 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 drythem. In this I had been fairly successful. 

My feet gave me most trouble, for they immediately got wet againbecause my thin moccasins were easily soaked through on the snow. Isuddenly thought of the way in which the Lapps who tend our reindeermanage for dry socks. They carry grass with them, which they ravel upand pad into their shoes. Into this they put their feet, and then packthe rest with more grass, tying up the top with a binder. The ropes ofthe harness for our dogs are carefully sewed all over with two layersof flannel in order to make them soft against the dogs' sides. So, assoon as I could sit down, I started with my trusty knife to rip up theflannel. Though my fingers were more or less frozen, I was able alsoto ravel out the rope, put it into my shoes, and use my wet socksinside my knickerbockers, where, though damp, they served to break thewind. Then, tying the narrow strips of flannel together, I bound upthe top of the moccasins, Lapp-fashion, and carried the bandage on upover my knee, making a ragged though most excellent puttee. 

As to the garments I wore, I had opened recently a box of footballclothes I had not seen for twenty years. I had found my old OxfordUniversity football running shorts and a pair of Richmond FootballClub red, yellow, and black stockings, exactly as I wore them twentyyears ago. These with a flannel shirt and sweater vest were now all Ihad left. Coat, hat, gloves, oilskins, everything else, were gone, andI stood there in that odd costume, exactly as I stood twenty years agoon a football field, reminding me of the little girl of a friend, who, when told she was dying, asked to be dressed in her Sunday frock togo to heaven in. My costume, being very light, dried all the quicker, until afternoon. Then nothing would dry anymore, everything freezingstiff. It had been an ideal costume to struggle through the slob ice. I really believe the conventional garments missionaries are supposedto affect would have been fatal. 

My occupation till what seemed like midnight was unravelling rope, andwith this I padded out my knickers 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-twopounds, I made him lie down, so that I could cuddle round him. I thenwrapped the three skins around me, arranging them so that I could lieon one edge, while the other came just over my shoulders and head. 

My own breath collecting inside the newly flayed skin must have had asoporific effect, for I was soon fast asleep. One hand I had kept warmagainst the curled up dog, but the other, being gloveless, had frozen, and I suddenly awoke, shivering enough, I thought, to break my fragilepan. What I took at first to be the sun was just rising, but I soonfound it was the moon, and then I knew it was about half-past twelve. The dog was having an excellent time. He hadn't been cuddled so warmall winter, and he resented my moving with low growls till he found itwasn't another dog. 

 [Illustration: DOC]

The wind was steadily driving me now toward the open sea, and I couldexpect, short of a miracle, nothing but death out there. Somehow, onescarcely felt justified in praying for a miracle. But we have learneddown here to pray for things we want, and, anyhow, just at that momentthe miracle occurred. The wind fell off suddenly, and came with alight air from the southward, and then dropped stark calm. The ice wasnow "all abroad, " which I was sorry for, for there was a big safe pannot twenty yards away from me. If I could have got on that, I mighthave killed my other dogs when the time came, and with their coats Icould hope to hold out for two or three days more, and with the foodand drink their bodies would offer me need not at least die of hungeror thirst. To tell the truth, they were so big and strong I was halfafraid to tackle them with only a sheath-knife on my small andunstable raft. 

But it was now freezing hard. I knew the calm water between us wouldform into cakes, and I had to recognize that the chance of gettingnear enough to escape on to it was gone. If, on the other hand, thewhole bay froze solid again I had yet another possible chance. For mypan would hold together longer and I should be opposite anothervillage, called Goose Cove, at daylight, and might possibly be seenfrom there. I knew that the komatiks there would be starting atdaybreak over the hills for a parade of Orangemen about twenty milesaway. Possibly, therefore, I might be seen as they climbed the hills. So I lay down, and went to sleep again. 

It seems impossible to say how long one sleeps, but I woke with asudden thought in my mind that I must have a flag; but again I had nopole and no flag. However, I set to work in the dark to disarticulatethe legs of my dead dogs, which were now frozen stiff, and which wereall that offered a chance of carrying anything like a distress signal. Cold as it was, I determined to sacrifice my shirt for that purposewith the first streak of daylight. 

It took a long time in the dark to get the legs off, and when I hadpatiently marled them together with old harness rope and the remainsof the skin traces, it was the heaviest and crookedest flag-pole ithas ever been my lot to see. I had had no food from six o'clock themorning before, when I had eaten porridge and bread and butter. I had, however, a rubber band which I had been wearing instead of one of mygarters, and I chewed that for twenty-four hours. It saved me fromthirst and hunger, oddly enough. It was not possible to get a drinkfrom my pan, for it was far too salty. But anyhow that thought did notdistress me much, for as from time to time I heard the cracking andgrinding of the newly formed slob, it seemed that my devoted boat mustinevitably 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, found it not half so cold asI had anticipated. I now re-formed my dog-skins with the raw side out, so that they made a kind of coat quite rivalling Joseph's. But, withthe rising of the sun, the frost came out of the joints of my dogs'legs, and the friction caused by waving it made my flag-pole almosttie itself in knots. Still, I could raise it three or four feet abovemy head, which was very important. 

Now, however, I found that instead of being as far out at sea as I hadreckoned, I had drifted back in a northwesterly direction, and was offsome cliffs known as Ireland Head. Near these there was a littlevillage looking seaward, whence I should certainly have been seen. But, as I had myself, earlier in the winter, been night-bound at thisplace, I had learnt there was not a single soul living there at allthis winter. The people had all, as usual, migrated to the winterhouses up the bay, where they get together for schooling and socialpurposes. 

I soon found it was impossible to keep waving so heavy a flag all thetime, and yet I dared not sit down, for that might be the exact momentsome one would be in a position to see me from the hills. The onlything in my mind was how long I could stand up and how long go onwaving that pole at the cliffs. Once or twice I thought I saw menagainst their snowy faces, which, I judged, were about five and a halfmiles from me, but they were only trees. Once, also, I thought I saw aboat approaching. A glittering object kept appearing and disappearingon the water, but it was only a small piece of ice sparkling in thesun as it rose on the surface. I think that the rocking of my cradleup and down on the waves had helped me to sleep, for I felt as well asever I did in my life; and with the hope of a long sunny day, I feltsure I was good to last another twenty-four hours, --if my boat wouldhold out and not rot under the sun's rays. 

Each time I sat down to rest, my big dog "Doc" came and kissed my faceand then walked to the edge of the ice-pan, returning again to where Iwas huddled up, as if to say, "Why don't you come along? Surely it istime to start. " The other dogs also were now moving about veryrestlessly, occasionally trying to satisfy their hunger by gnawing atthe dead bodies of their brothers. 

I determined, at mid-day, to kill a big Eskimo dog and drink hisblood, as I had read only a few days before in "Farthest North" of Dr. Nansen's doing, --that is, if I survived the battle with him. I couldnot help feeling, even then, my ludicrous position, and I thought, ifever I got ashore again, I should have to laugh at myself standinghour after hour waving my shirt at those lofty cliffs, which seemed toassume a kind of sardonic grin, so that I could almost imagine theywere laughing at me. At times I could not help thinking of the goodbreakfast that my colleagues were enjoying at the back of those samecliffs, and of the snug fire and the comfortable room which we callour study. 

I can honestly say that from first to last not a single sensation offear entered my mind, even when I was struggling in the slob ice. Somehow it did not seem unnatural; I had been through the ice half adozen times before. For the most part I felt very sleepy, and the ideawas then very strong in my mind that I should soon reach the solutionof the mysteries that I had been preaching about for so many years. 

Only the previous night (Easter Sunday) at prayers in the cottage, wehad been discussing the fact that the soul was entirely separate fromthe body, that Christ's idea of the body as the temple in which thesoul dwells is so amply borne out by modern science. We had talked ofthoughts from that admirable book, "Brain and Personality, " by Dr. Thompson of New York, and also of the same subject in the light of arecent operation performed at the Johns Hopkins Hospital by Dr. HarveyCushing. The doctor had removed from a man's brain two large cystictumors without giving the man an anæsthetic, and the patient had keptup a running conversation with him all the while the doctor's fingerswere working in his brain. It had seemed such a striking proof thatourselves and our bodies are two absolutely different things. 

Our eternal life has always been with me a matter of faith. It seemsto me one of those problems that must always be a mystery toknowledge. But my own faith in this matter had been so untroubled thatit seemed now almost natural to be leaving through this portal ofdeath from an ice pan. In many ways, also, I could see how a death ofthis kind might be of value to the particular work that I am engagedin. Except for my friends, I had nothing I could think of to regretwhatever. Certainly, I should like to have told them the story. Butthen one does not carry folios of paper in running shorts which haveno pockets, and all my writing gear had gone by the board with thekomatik. 

I could still see a testimonial to myself some distance away in mykhaki overalls, which I had left on another pan in the struggle of thenight before. They seemed a kind of company, and would possibly bepicked up and suggest the true story. Running through my head all thetime, quite unbidden, were the words of the old hymn:--

 "My God, my Father, while I stray Far from my home on life's dark way, Oh, teach me from my heart to say, Thy will be done!"

It is a hymn we hardly ever sing out here, and it was an unconsciousmemory of my boyhood days. 

It was a perfect morning, --a cobalt sky, an ultramarine sea, a goldensun, an almost wasteful extravagance of crimson over hills of purestsnow, which caught a reflected glow from rock and crag. Between me andthe hills lay miles of rough ice and long veins of thin black slobthat had formed during the night. For the foreground there was mypoor, gruesome pan, bobbing up and down on the edge of the open sea, stained with blood, and littered with carcasses and débris. It wassmaller than last night, and I noticed also that the new ice from thewater melted under the dogs' bodies had been formed at the expense ofits thickness. Five dogs, myself in colored football costume, and abloody dogskin cloak, with a gay flannel shirt on a pole of frozendogs' legs, completed the picture. The sun was almost hot by now, andI was conscious of a surplus of heat in my skin coat. I began to looklongingly at one of my remaining dogs, for an appetite will rise evenon an ice-pan, and that made me think of fire. So once again Iinspected my matches. Alas! the heads were in paste, all but three orfour blue-top wax ones. 

These I now laid out to dry, while I searched about on my snow-pan tosee if I could get a piece of transparent ice to make a burning-glass. For I was pretty sure that with all the unravelled tow I had stuffedinto my leggings, and with the fat of my dogs, I could make smokeenough to be seen if only I could get a light. I had found a piecewhich I thought would do, and had gone back to wave my flag, which Idid every two minutes, when I suddenly thought I saw again the glitterof an oar. It did not seem possible, however, for it must beremembered it was not water which lay between me and the land, butslob ice, which a mile or two inside me was very heavy. Even if peoplehad seen me, I did not think they could get through, though I knewthat the whole shore would then be trying. Moreover, there was nosmoke rising on the land to give me hope that I had been seen. Therehad been no gun-flashes in the night, and I felt sure that, had anyone seen me, there would have been a bonfire on every hill toencourage me to keep going. 

So I gave it up, and went on with my work. But the next time I wentback to my flag, the glitter seemed very distinct, and though it keptdisappearing as it rose and fell on the surface, I kept my eyesstrained upon it, for my dark spectacles had been lost, and I waspartly 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 thehull. I knew that, if the pan held on for another hour, I should beall right. 

With that strange perversity of the human intellect, the first thing Ithought of was what trophies I could carry with my luggage from thepan, and I pictured the dog-bone flagstaff adorning my study. (Thedogs actually ate it afterwards. ) I thought of preserving my raggedputtees with our collection of curiosities. I lost no time now at theburning-glass. My whole mind was devoted to making sure I should beseen, and I moved about as much as I dared on the raft, waving mysorry token aloft. 

At last there could be no doubt about it: the boat was getting nearerand nearer. I could see that my rescuers were frantically waving, and, when they came within shouting distance, I heard some one cryout, "Don't get excited. Keep on the pan where you are. " They wereinfinitely more excited than I. Already to me it seemed just asnatural now to be saved as, half an hour before, it had seemedinevitable 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 yourselfafterwards, they need not have expected me to follow the example ofthe apostle Peter and throw myself into the water. 

As the man in the bow leaped from the boat on to my ice raft andgrasped both my hands in his, not a word was uttered. I could see inhis face the strong emotions he was trying hard to force back, thoughin spite of himself tears trickled down his cheeks. It was the samewith each of the others of my rescuers, nor was there any reason to beashamed of them. These were not the emblems of weak sentimentality, but the evidences of the realization of the deepest and noblestemotion of which the human heart is capable, the vision that God hasuse for us his creatures, the sense of that supreme joy of theChrist, --the joy of unselfish service. After the hand-shake andswallowing a cup of warm tea that had been thoughtfully packed in abottle, we hoisted in my remaining dogs and started for home. To drivethe boat home there were not only five Newfoundland fishermen at theoars, but five men with Newfoundland muscles in their backs, and fiveas brave hearts as ever beat in the bodies of human beings. 

So, slowly but steadily, we forged through to the shore, now jumpingout on to larger pans and forcing them apart with the oars, nowhauling the boat out and dragging her over, when the jam of ice packedtightly in by the rising wind was impossible to get through otherwise. 

My first question, when at last we found our tongues, was, "How everdid you happen to be out in the boat in this ice?" To my astonishmentthey told me that the previous night four men had been away on a longheadland cutting out some dead harp seals that they had killed in thefall and left to freeze up in a rough wooden store they had builtthere, and that as they were leaving for home, my pan of ice haddrifted out clear of Hare Island, and one of them, with his keenfisherman's eyes, had seen something unusual. They at once returned totheir village, saying there was something alive drifting out to sea onthe floe ice. But their report had been discredited, for the peoplethought 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 onthat coast who had a good spy-glass. He tells me he instantly got upin the midst of his supper, on hearing the news, and hurried over thecliffs to the lookout, carrying his trusty spy-glass with him. Immediately, dark as it was, he saw that without any doubt there was aman out on the ice. Indeed, he saw me wave my hands every now andagain towards the shore. By a very easy process of reasoning on souninhabited a shore, he at once knew who it was, though some of themen argued that it must be some one else. Little had I thought, asnight was closing in, that away on that snowy hilltop lay a man with atelescope patiently searching those miles of ice for _me_. Hastilythey rushed back to the village and at once went down to try to launcha boat, but that proved to be impossible. Miles of ice lay betweenthem and me, the heavy sea was hurling 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 oncealong the coast, and lookouts told off to all the favorable points, so that while I considered myself a laughing-stock, bowing with myflag to those unresponsive cliffs, there were really many eyeswatching me. One man told me that with his glass he distinctly saw mewaving the shirt flag. There was little slumber that night in thevillages, and even the men told me there were few dry eyes, as theythought of the impossibility of saving me from perishing. We are notgiven to weeping overmuch on this shore, but there are tears that do aman honor. 

Before daybreak this fine volunteer crew had been gotten together. Theboat, with such a force behind it of will power, would, I believe, have gone through anything. And, after seeing the heavy breakersthrough which we were guided, loaded with their heavy icebattering-rams, when at last we ran through the harbor-mouth with theboat on our return, I knew well what wives and children had beenthinking of when they saw their loved ones put out. Only two years agoI remember a fisherman's wife watching her husband and three sons takeout a boat to bring in a stranger that was showing 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 thegrip that one after another gave me, some no longer trying to keepback the tears, I did not find out my hands were frost-burnt, --a factI have not been slow to appreciate since, however. I must have been aweird sight as I stepped ashore, tied up in rags, stuffed out withoakum, wrapped in the bloody skins of dogs, with no hat, coat, orgloves besides, and only a pair of short knickers. It must have seemedto 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 wantedit to be, and some hot stew was locating itself where I had intendedan 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 alarge team as hard as I could race for the hospital, for I had learntthat the news had gone over that I was lost. It was soon painfullyimpressed upon me that I could not much enjoy the ride, for I had tobe hauled like a log up the hills, my feet being frost-burnt so that Icould not walk. Had I guessed this before going into the house, Imight have avoided much trouble. 

It is time to bring this egotistic narrative to an end. "Jack" liescurled up by my feet while I write this short account. "Brin" is onceagain leading and lording it over his fellows. "Doc" and the othersurvivors are not forgotten, now that we have again returned to theless romantic episodes of a mission hospital life. There stands in ourhallway a bronze tablet to the memory of three noble dogs, Moody, Watch, and Spy, whose lives were given for mine on the ice. In myhome in England my brother has placed a duplicate tablet, and hasadded these words, "Not one of them is forgotten before your Fatherwhich is in heaven. " And this I most fully believe to be true. The boywhose life I was intent on saving was brought to the hospital a day ortwo later in a boat, the ice having cleared off the coast not toreturn for that season. He was operated on successfully, and is evennow on the high road to recovery. We all love life. I was glad to beback once more with possibly a new lease of it before me. I hadlearned on the pan many things, but chiefly that the one cause forregret, when we look back on a life which we think is closed forever, will be the fact that we have wasted its opportunities. As I went tosleep that first night there still rang in my ears the same verse ofthe old hymn which had been my companion on the ice, "Thy will, notmine, O Lord. "

 [Illustration: MEMORIAL TABLET AT ST. ANTHONY'S HOSPITAL, NEWFOUNDLAND]

 +----------------------------------------+ | TO THE MEMORY OF | | THREE NOBLE DOGS. | | | | MOODY. | | WATCH. | | SPY. | | | | WHOSE LIVES WERE GIVEN | | FOR MINE ON THE ICE. | | | | April 21st. 1908. | | | | WILFRED GRENFELL, | | ST. ANTHONY. | | | +----------------------------------------+

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APPENDIX

One of Dr. Grenfell's volunteer helpers, Miss Luther of Providence, R. I. , contributes the following account of the rescue as recited inthe Newfoundland vernacular by one of the rescuing party. 

"One day, about a week after Dr. Grenfell's return, " says Miss Luther, "two men came in from Griquet, fifteen miles away. They had walked allthat distance, though the trail was heavy with soft snow and theyoften sank to their waists and waded through brooks and ponds. 'Wejust felt we must see the doctor and tell him what 't would 'a' meantto us, if he'd been lost. ' Perhaps nothing but the doctor's own talecould be more graphic than what was told by George Andrews, one of thecrew who rescued him. "

THE RESCUERS' STORY

"It was wonderfu' bad weather that Monday mornin'. Th' doctor was toLock's Cove. None o' we thought o' 'is startin' out. I don't think th'doctor hisself thought o' goin' at first an' then 'e sent th' two menon ahead for to meet us at th' tilt an' said like 's 'e was goin'after all. 

"'Twas even' when us knew 'e was on th' ice. George Davis seen unfirst. 'E went to th' cliff to look for seal. It was after sunset an'half dark, but 'e thought 'e saw somethin' on th' ice an' 'e ran forGeorge Read an' 'e got 'is spy-glass an' made out a man an' dogs on apan an' knowed it war th' doctor. 

"It was too dark fur we t' go t' un, but us never slept at all, allnight. I couldn' sleep. Us watched th' wind an' knew if it didn' blowtoo 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 'twas light us went to th' cliff wi' th' spy-glass to seeif us could see un, but thar warn't nothin' in sight. Us know by thewind whar t' look fur un, an' us launched th' boat. George Read an''is two sons, an' George Davis, what seen un first, an' me, was th'crew. George Read was skipper-man an' th' rest was just youngsters. The sun was warm, --you mind 'twas a fine mornin', --an' us started inour shirt an' braces fur us knowed thar'd be hard work to do. I knowedthar was a chance o' not comin' back at all, but it didn' make nodifference. I knowed I'd as good a chance as any, _an' 'twa' for th'doctor, an' 'is life's worth many_, an' somehow I couldn' let a man goout like dat wi'out tryin' fur un, an' I think us all felt th' same. 

"Us 'ad a good strong boat an' four oars, an' took a hot kettle o' teaan' food for a week, for us thought u'd 'ave t' go far an' p'rhapslose th' boat an' 'ave t' walk ashore un th' ice. I din' 'ope to findthe doctor alive an' kept lookin' for a sign of un on th' pans. 'Twa'no' easy gettin' to th' pans wi' a big sea runnin'! Th' big pans 'udsometimes heave together an' near crush th' boat, an' sometimes us 'adt' git out an' haul her over th' ice t' th' water again. Then us comet' th' slob ice where th' pan 'ad ground together, an' 'twas allthick, an' that was worse'n any. Us saw th' doctor about twentyminutes afore us got t' un. 'E was wavin' 'is flag an' I seen 'im. 'Ewas on a pan no bigger'n this flor, an' I dunno what ever kep' un fro'goin' abroad, for 'twasn't ice, 'twas packed snow. Th' pan was awayfrom even th' slob, floatin' by hisself, an' th' open water all roun', an' 'twas just across fro' Goose Cove, an' outside o' that there'dbeen no hope. I think th' way th' pan held together was on account o'th' dogs' bodies meltin' it an' 't froze hard durin' th' night. 'Ewas level with th' water an' th' sea washin' over us all th' time. 

"When us got near un, it didn' seem like 'twas th' doctor. 'E lookedso old an' 'is face such a queer color. 'E was very solemn-like whenus took un an' th' dogs on th' boat. No un felt like sayin' much, an''e 'ardly said nothin' till us gave un some tea an' loaf an' then 'etalked. I s'pose e was sort o' faint-like. Th' first thing 'e saidwas, 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, manytimes over if 'e 'ad th' chance;--an' so 'e would. An' then 'efretted about th' b'y 'e was goin' to see, it bein' too late to reachun, an' us tol' un 'is life was worth so much more 'n th' b'y, fur 'ecould save others an' th' b'y couldn'. But 'e still 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' topso' 'is boots to keep th' draught from 'is back. 'E must 'a' worked'ard all night. 'E said 'e droled off once or twice, but th' nightseemed wonderfu' long. 

"Us took un off th' pan at about half-past seven, an' 'ad a 'ard fightgettin' in, th' sea still runnin' 'igh. 'E said 'e was proud to see uscomin' for un, and so 'e might, for it grew wonderfu' cold in th' dayand th' sea so 'igh the pan couldn' 'a' lived outside. 'E wouldn'stop when us got ashore, but must go right on, an' when 'e 'ad dryclothes an' was a bit warm, us sent un to St. Anthony with a team. 

"Th' next night, an' for nights after, I couldn' sleep. I'd keepseein' that man standin' on th' ice, an' I'd be sorter half-awakelike, sayin', 'But not th' doctor. Sure _not_ th' _doctor_. '"

There was silence for a few moments, and George Andrews looked outacross the blue harbor to the sea. 

"'E sent us watches an' spy-glasses, " said he, "an' pictures o'hisself that one o' you took o' un, made large an' in a frame. GeorgeRead an' me 'ad th' watches an' th' others 'ad th' spy-glasses. 'Ere'sth' watch. It 'as 'In memory o' April 21st' on it, but us don't needth' things to make we remember it, tho' we 're wonderful glad t' 'ave'em from th' doctor. "

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 The Riverside Press

 CAMBRIDGE · MASSACHUSETTS

 U. S. A. 

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