"They was crossing the bay and got carried out by the off-shore
gale," explained Jones. "Windy was follerin' 'em when the ice ahead
parted and begun movin' out. He tried to yell to 'em, but they was
too far away to hear in the storm. He managed to get back to the
land and follered the shore ice around. He's over at Hunter's cabin
now, most dead, face and hands froze pretty bad."
A torrent of questions followed and many suggestions as to the fate
of the men.
"They'll freeze before they can get ashore," said one.
"The ice-pack'll break up in this wind," added another, "and if they
don't drown, they'll freeze before the floe comes in close enough for
them to land."
From the first announcement of his friends' peril, Captain had been
thinking rapidly. His body, sore from his long trip and aching from
the hug of his recent encounter, cried woefully for rest, but his
voice rose calm and clear:
"We've got to get them off," he said. "Who will go with me? Three
is enough.
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