Taking some matches from his pocket, he knelt down, placed the lantern under the skirt of Katy's blanket robe, crouched over it as close as he could, and struck a match. It went out. A second fizzed a while, which only warmed the wicking, but at the third the oil in the wick took fire, and the lantern was soon shining gayly into the bright face of the compass at Katy's feet.
"Now, Youngster, for the oars. Lie low, and let me crawl over you to my seat."
Aleck got there and was ready, but Jim was still fumbling about on each side, and feeling under the thwart.
"What's the matter? Why don't you go to work?"
"Can't find but one oar."
"Only one oar? Sure?"
Then the two searched, but to no purpose. It had been dropped overboard, evidently, during the excitement about losing the sledge.
"Well, Jim, it's your fault, but it can't be helped now. You take this quilt, and cuddle down as close to Katy as you can get, and try to keep each other warm. I'll row alone. Ready, forward?"
"Ay, ay, sir."
Then they began to move ahead through the water, which came in long rollers, not in breaking waves, because there was so much ice around them that the wind could not get hold of it. It was very cold. Occasionally Tug would fend away a cake of ice, or they would stop and steer clear of a big piece; but pretty soon he called out in a shaky voice that he was too stiff to stand there any longer, where the spray was blowing over him, and that he should be good for nothing in a few minutes unless he could row awhile to get warm. So Aleck took his place, fixing the spare canvas into a kind of shield to keep off the spattering drops. It was very forlorn and miserable, and to say that all wished themselves back on shore would be but the faintest expression of their distress.