J. W. S. Marr, Into the Frozen South
“ For long spaces of time we would find ourselves jammed tightly between floes as high as our bulwarks, where, with engines rattling away at full speed, we failed to make an inch of headway. Then it was a case of stopping and going astern, after which the ship was stopped again, engines opened to full speed ahead, and like a ram we crunched into the solid mass and bored a little way farther towards our goal, with the broken ice grating and roaring and screaming along our sides in a crashing chorus of spite. ”
