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 as
I 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, with
the 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 almost
tie itself in knots. Still, I could raise it three or four feet above
my head, which was very important.
Now, however, I found that instead of being as far out at sea as I had
reckoned, I had drifted back in a northwesterly direction, and was off
some cliffs known as Ireland Head. Near these there was a little
village looking seaward, whence I should certainly have been seen.
But, as I had myself, earlier in the winter, been night-bound at this
place, I had learnt there was not a single soul living there at all
this winter. The people had all, as usual, migrated to the winter
houses up the bay, where they get together for schooling and social
purposes.
I soon found it was impossible to keep waving so heavy a flag all the
time, and yet I dared not sit down, for that might be the exact moment
some one would be in a position to see me from the hills. The only
thing in my mind was how long I could stand up and how long go on
waving that pole at the cliffs.
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