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
suddenly 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 to hope for a rescue. Alas! there was
little possibility of being seen. As I have already mentioned, no one
lives 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 all 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, the wind going
through me and every stitch soaked in ice-water, to see my
well-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 the
gorgeous whiteness shows off the least thing. But the tops of bushes
and large pieces of kelp have often deceived those looking out.
Moreover, within our memory no man has been thus adrift on the bay
ice.
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