tow it on to firm ice as that near the ship was breaking up. All hands
started on a long tow line. We got on to the rotten piece, and somebody
behind shouted 'You must run.' From that moment everything happened very
quickly. Williamson fell right in through the ice; immediately afterwards
we were all brought up with a jerk. Then the line began to pull us
backwards; the stern of the motor had sunk through the ice, and the whole
car began to sink. It slowly went right through and disappeared and then
the tow line followed it. Everything possible was done to hang on to the
rope, but in the end we had to let it go, each man keeping his hold until
he was dragged to the lip of the hole. Then we made for the fast ice,
leaving the rotten bit between us and the ship.

"Pennell and Priestley sounded their way back to the ship, and Day asked
Priestley to bring his goggles when he returned. They came back with a
life-line, Pennell leading. Suddenly the ice gave way under Priestley,
who disappeared entirely and came up, so we learned afterwards, under the
ice, there being a big current. In a moment Pennell was lying flat upon
the floe on his chest, got his hand under Priestley's arm, and so pulled
him out. All Priestley said was, 'Day, here are your goggles.' We all got
back to the ship, but communication between the ship and the shore was
interrupted for the rest of the day, when a solid road was found right up
to the ship in another place."[102]

Meanwhile the hut was rising very quickly, and Davies, who was Chippy
Chap, the carpenter, deserves much credit. He was a leading shipwright
in the navy, always willing and bright, and with a very thorough
knowledge of his job. I have seen him called up hour after hour, day and
night, on the ship, when the pumps were choked by the coal balls which
formed in the bilges, and he always arrived with a smile on his face.
Altogether he was one of our most useful men. In this job of hut-building