The crow's nest, which had marvellously escaped injury when the foremast was fractured, was again sent aloft, this time on the mainmast. The broken foremast was sawn through a couple of feet below the jagged end, and new preventer shrouds set up.
The wireless aerials, which had been carried away at the same time as the crow's nest, were placed in position again. The bulwarks were roughly repaired by bolting fir planks across the gap.
Unfortunately, the two smashed boats could not be replaced, and the only wooden ones remaining were two heavy cutters carried on deck amidships. There were also two double-ended, collapsible canvas boats, double-skinned, and, so long as the canvas remained intact, unsinkable. For use in open water these boats were invaluable, but there was always a danger of ripping the canvas on the sharp edges of the floating ice.
At "midnight," Captain Stormleigh made a solar observation, and announced that the Polarity was sixty miles S.S.E. of Desolation Inlet. Unless unforeseen circumstances arose, the relief expedition ought to be at the anchorage by six in the morning.
Unfortunately, the vessel encountered pack-ice—a desolate plain of bluish-grey ice, which had only partly melted, and moved southward in the form of "growlers," and drift ice.
"Rough luck, this, sir," commented Captain Stormleigh.
Ranworth shrugged his shoulders impatiently.
"We must force a passage," he said.
"We'll try, sir," replied the captain. "There is always a danger of being caught in a southerly gale, and the old Polarity wouldn't be worth much jammed up in a lot of heavy ice. Still, I'm willing to take the risk."
"Very good," assented Ranworth. "What do you propose to do?"