Summary

The last voyage of the Karluk

Every moment the Karluk was in danger of being tossed up on one of these heavy floes and left stranded, to break up like a ship wrecked on a beach, or of being flung against the ice bodily like a ship thrown by wind and waves against a cliff. At any moment, too, the ice-floe might smash up and release her to the peril of being crushed by the impact of the floating fragments. We all slept with our clothes on—when we slept at all—and kept the boats loaded with supplies, ready to be lowered at an instant’s notice.
Source: Gutenberg

The last voyage of the Karluk

March 30—the thirteenth day of our journey from Icy Spit—was the first fine day we had had. We broke camp at dawn. Almost at once we encountered open water and from that time until dark crossed lead after lead. One of them was half a mile wide. It was filled with heavy pieces of ice, frozen into precarious young ice, the whole mass only solid enough to enable us to get a few things at a time over on the sledge. We had to unharness our dogs and haul the lightly loaded sledge across, picking our way from one heavy piece to another as a man zigzags his way across a creek on stepping-stones.
Source: Gutenberg

The last voyage of the Karluk

The next day dawned fine and clear. We got out of our igloo before sunrise, when the horizon was bright and objects along the surface of the ice were sharply defined against the sky-line; sunrise and sunset are the best times to see anything at a distance. A good night’s sleep had rested my eyes and when I looked through my binoculars from the top of the ridge I could see the land distinctly, covered with snow. I was surprised to be able to see it so clearly. I called to Kataktovick to come up.
Source: Gutenberg

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