Chapter EighteenGREENLAND SEA
JULY 1914
Staggering blind through the storm-whirl, stumbling mad through the snow
Frozen stiff in the ice pack, brittle and bent like a bow;
Featureless, formless, forsaken, scented by wolves in their flight,
Left for the wind to make music through ribs that are glittering white;
Robert Service
'Doctor!' Pratt loomed up, as shaggy and solid as any polar bear. 'We're moving. Keep up!' He took up position at my side, acting as escort through the Arctic wilderness.
Leaving the sealskins piled in a b****y heap, Captain Milne led us back over ice that seemed even more dangerous than before. The ice holes were more frequent and larger, while the crevasses and chasms seemed wider, and harder to see through snow that drove horizontally across that terrible la
