or their lives, and that the one way of escape open to them was to find
an egress of some kind around the point, the ragged tongue of which was
horribly close to lee of them. When the snow cleared for a minute or
two, they saw that Dampier had driven the _Selache_ further off the ice.
The schooner was hove to now, and there was a black figure high up in
her shrouds.

A bitter rush of wind hurled the spray about them, and the boat fell off
almost beam-on to the sea, in spite of all that they could do. The icy
brine washed into the boat, and it seemed almost certain that she would
swamp or roll over before they could get way on her. Still, pulling
desperately, they drove her around the point. Gasping and dripping they
made their last effort. A sea rolled up ahead, and as the boat swung up
with it Wyllard had a momentary glimpse of an opening not far away. He
shouted to his companions, but could not tell whether they heard and
understood him, for after that he was conscious only of rowing savagely
until another sea broke into the boat and she struck. There was a crash,
and she swung clear with the backwash, with all one side smashed in.
Then she swung in again just beyond a tongue of ice over which the froth
was pouring tumultuously, and the Indian jumped from the bow. He had the
painter with him, and for half a minute, standing in the foam, he held
the boat somehow, while they hurled a few of the carefully made-up
packages that composed her important freight as far on to the ice as
possible.

As Wyllard, who seized one sled frame, jumped, the disabled boat rolled
over. He landed on his hands and knees, but in another moment he was on
his feet, and he and the Indian clutched at Charly, who drove towards
them amid a long wash of foam. They dragged him clear, and as he stood
up dripping without his cap a sudden haze of snow whirled about them.
There was no sign of the schooner, and they could scarcely see the
broken ice some sixty yards away. They had made the landing, wet
through, with about half their stores, and it was evident that their
boat would not carry them across the narrowest lane of water, even if
they could have recovered her. The sea rumbled along the edge of the
ice, and they could not tell whether the frozen wall extended as far as
the beach. They looked at one another until Wyllard spoke.

"We have got the hand-sled, and some, at least, of the things," he said.
"The sooner we start for the beach the sooner