The ice floe upon which they had been stranded began to drift, breaking up some of the ice that just hours earlier had kept them from reaching shore. Tyson decided to seize the opportunity. He knew how astonishingly quick young ice could form, and he had also seen how suddenly a gale could come up and close the ice, making it impassable. They could be frozen in at any moment. “We must get to the far end of the floe and launch the boats,” he said. Reaching Polaris was their best chance of survival, he told his companions. “If we can’t make the ship, we’ll head for shore. Work our way down to her.” For the second time that day, he directed the men to prepare the boats. This time he wanted to leave behind almost everything except a few days’ worth of provisions. That would make the craft as light and maneuverable in the water as possible. Tyson went to locate a place to launch the boats so they would not be hauling them about uselessly. He was very tired and had eaten nothing but hardtack and a cup of seal-blood soup Hannah had given him.
