Excerpt: Adrift on an Ice-Pan by Wilfred Thomason Grenfell, installment #9

The following excerpt is from Adrift on an Ice-Pan by Wilfred Thomason Grenfell. A true account of Grenfell's near death experience, the story was first published in 1909 by Houghton Mifflin Company. The unabridged audio edition narrated by Chris Brookes, Jay Roberts and Janis Spence is available from rattlingbooks.com

Excerpt

My feet gave me most trouble, for they immediately got wet again because my thin moccasins were easily soaked through on the snow. I suddenly thought of the way in which the Lapps who tend our reindeer manage for dry socks. They carry grass with them, which they ravel up and pad into their shoes. Into this they put their feet, and then pack the rest with more grass, tying up the top with a binder. The ropes of the harness for our dogs are carefully sewed all over with two layers of flannel in order to make them soft against the dogs' sides. So, as soon as I could sit down, I started with my trusty knife to rip up the flannel. Though my fingers were more or less frozen, I was able also to ravel out the rope, put it into my shoes, and use my wet socks inside my knickerbockers, where, though damp, they served to break the wind. Then, tying the narrow strips of flannel together, I bound up the top of the moccasins, Lapp-fashion, and carried the bandage on up over my knee, making a ragged though most excellent puttee.

As to the garments I wore, I had opened recently a box of football clothes I had not seen for twenty years. I had found my old Oxford University football running shorts and a pair of Richmond Football Club red, yellow, and black stockings, exactly as I wore them twenty years ago. These with a flannel shirt and sweater vest were now all I had left. Coat, hat, gloves, oilskins, everything else, were gone, and I stood there in that odd costume, exactly as I stood twenty years ago on a football field, reminding me of the little girl of a friend, who, when told she was dying, asked to be dressed in her Sunday frock to go to heaven in. My costume, being very light, dried all the quicker, until afternoon. Then nothing would dry anymore, everything freezing stiff. It had been an ideal costume to struggle through the slob ice. I really believe the conventional garments missionaries are supposed to affect would have been fatal.


To be continued.

Excerpt: Adrift on an Ice-Pan by Wilfred Thomason Grenfell, installment #8

The following excerpt is from Adrift on an Ice-Pan by Wilfred Thomason Grenfell. A true account of Grenfell's near death experience, the story was first published in 1909 by Houghton Mifflin Company.

The unabridged audiobook edition narrated by Chris Brookes, Jay Roberts and Janis Spence is available as a digital download from rattlingbooks.com.  You can mail order the audiobook CD or just walk in to Fred's Records on Duckworth Street in St. John's, Newfoundland and Labrador and pick up a copy.

Excerpt

Meanwhile I had frayed out a small piece of rope into oakum, and mixed it with fat from the intestines of my dogs. Alas, my match-box, which was always chained to me, had leaked, and my matches were in pulp. Had I been able to make a light, it would have looked so unearthly out there on the sea that I felt sure they would see me. But that chance was now cut off. However, I kept the matches, hoping that I might dry them if I lived through the night. While working at the dogs, about every five minutes I would stand up and wave my hands toward the land. I had no flag, and I could not spare my shirt, for, wet as it was, it was better than nothing in that freezing wind, and, anyhow, it was already nearly dark.

Unfortunately, the coves in among the cliffs are so placed that only for a very narrow space can the people in any house see the sea. Indeed, most of them cannot see it at all, so that I could not in the least expect any one to see me, even supposing it had been daylight.

Not daring to take any snow from the surface of my pan to break the wind with, I piled up the carcasses of my dogs. With my skin rug I could now sit down without getting soaked. During these hours I had continually taken off all my clothes, wrung them out, swung them one by one in the wind, and put on first one and then the other inside, hoping that what heat there was in my body would thus serve to dry them. In this I had been fairly successful.

To be continued.

Excerpt: Adrift on an Ice-Pan by Wilfred Thomason Grenfell, installment #7

The following excerpt is from Adrift on an Ice-Pan by Wilfred Thomason Grenfell. A true account of Grenfell's near death experience, the story was first published in 1909 by Houghton Mifflin Company.

The unabridged audiobook edition of Adrift on an Ice-Pan narrated by Chris Brookes, Jay Roberts and Janis Spence is available from rattlingbooks.com as a digital download or mail order CD. Or you can walk in to Fred's Records in St. John's, Newfoundland and Labrador and buy one off the shelf.

Excerpt

In spite of my care the struggling dog bit me rather badly in the leg. I suppose my numb hands prevented my holding his throat as I could ordinarily do. Moreover, I must hold the knife in the wound to the end, as blood on the fur would freeze solid and make the skin useless. In this way I sacrificed two more large dogs, receiving only one more bite, though I fully expected that the pan I was on would break up in the struggle. The other dogs, who were licking their coats and trying to get dry, apparently took no notice of the fate of their comrades, but I was very careful to prevent the dying dogs crying out, for the noise of fighting would probably have been followed by the rest attacking the down dog, and that was too close to me to be pleasant. A short shrift seemed to me better than a long one, nd I envied the dead dogs whose troubles were over so quickly. Indeed, I came to balance in my mind whether, if once I passed into the open sea, it would not be better by far to use my faithful knife on myself than to die by inches. There seemed no hardship in the thought. I seemed fully to sympathize with the Japanese view of hara-kiri.

Working, however, saved me from philosophizing. By the time I had skinned these dogs, and with my knife and some of the harness had strung the skins together, I was ten miles on my way, and it was getting dark.

Away to the northward I could see a single light in the little village where I had slept the night before, where I had received the kindly hospitality of the simple fishermen in whose comfortable homes I have spent many a night. I could not help but think of them sitting down to tea, with no idea that there was any one watching them, for I had told them not to expect me back for three days.

To be continued.

Excerpt: Adrift on an Ice-Pan by Wilfred Thomason Grenfell, installment #6

The following excerpt is from Adrift on an Ice-Pan by Wilfred Thomason Grenfell. A true account of Grenfell's near death experience, the story was first published in 1909 by Houghton Mifflin Company.

The downloadable unabridged audiobook edition of Adrift on an Ice-Pan narrated by Chris Brookes, Jay Roberts and Janis Spence is available from Rattling Books.  The audiobook CD is available from abebooks
or Freds Records in St. John's, Newfoundland.

Excerpt

I had not drifted more than half a mile before I saw my poor komatik disappear through the ice, which was every minute loosening up into the small pans that it consisted of, and it seemed like a friend gone and one more tie with home and safety lost. To the northward, about a mile distant, lay the mainland along which I had passed so merrily in the morning, - only, it seemed, a few moments before.

By mid-day I had passed the island to which I had crossed on the ice bridge. I could see that the bridge was gone now. If I could reach the island I should only be marooned and destined to die of starvation. But there was little chance of that, for I was rapidly driving into the ever widening bay.

It was scarcely safe to move on my small ice raft, for fear of breaking it. Yet I saw I must have the skins of some of my dogs, of which I had eight on the pan, if I was to live the night out. There was now some three to five miles between me and the north side of the bay. There, immense pans of Arctic ice, surging to and fro on the heavy ground seas, were thundering into the cliffs like medieval battering-rams. It was evident that, even if seen, I could hope for no help from that quarter before night. No boat could live through the surf.

Unwinding the sealskin traces from my waist, round which I had wound them to keep the dogs from eating them, I made a slip-knot, passed it over the first dog's head, tied it round my foot close to his neck, threw him on his back, and stabbed him in the heart. Poor beast! I loved him like a friend, a beautiful dog, but we could not all hope to live. In fact, I had no hope any of us would, at that time, but it seemed better to die fighting.To be continued.

Excerpt: Adrift on an Ice-Pan by Wilfred Thomason Grenfell, installment #5

The following excerpt is from Adrift on an Ice-Pan by Wilfred Thomason Grenfell. A true account of Grenfell's near death experience, the story was first published in 1909 by Houghton Mifflin Company. The unabridged audiobook edition narrated by Chris Brookes, Jay Roberts and Janis Spence is available as a digital download from rattlingbooks.com or in physical CD form from Freds Records.

Excerpt

I had decided I would rather stake my chances on a long swim even than perish by inches on the floe, as there was no likelihood whatever of being seen and rescued. But, keenly though I watched, not a streak even of clear water appeared, the interminable sish rising from below and filling every gap as it appeared. We were now resting on a piece of ice about ten by twelve feet, which, as I found when I came to examine it, was not ice at all, but simply snow-covered slob frozen into a mass, and I feared it would very soon break up in the general turmoil of the heavy sea, which was increasing as the ice drove off shore before the wind.

At first we drifted in the direction of a rocky point on which a heavy surf was breaking. Here I thought once again to swim ashore. But suddenly we struck a rock. A large piece broke off the already small pan, and what was left swung round in the backwash, and started right out to sea.

There was nothing for it now but to hope for a rescue. Alas! There was little possibility of being seen. As I have already mentioned, no one lives around this big bay. My only hope was that the other komatik, knowing I was alone and had failed to keep my tryst, would perhaps come back to look for me. This, however, as it proved, they did not do.

The westerly wind was rising all the time, our coldest wind at this time of the year, coming as it does over the Gulf ice. It was tantalizing, as I stood with next to nothing on, the wind going through me and every stitch soaked in ice-water, to see my well-stocked komatik some fifty yards away. It was still above water, with food, hot tea in a thermos bottle, dry clothing, matches, wood, and everything on it for making a fire to attract attention.

It is easy to see a dark object on the ice in the daytime, for the gorgeous whiteness shows off the least thing. But the tops of bushes and large pieces of kelp have often deceived those looking out. Moreover, within our memory no man has been thus adrift on the bay ice. The chances were about one in a thousand that I should be seen at all, and if I were seen, I should probably be mistaken for some piece of refuse.

To keep from freezing, I cut off my long moccasins down to the feet, strung out some line, split the legs, and made a kind of jacket, which protected my back from the wind down as far as the waist. I have this jacket still, and my friends assure me it would make a good Sunday garment.
To be continued.

Excerpt: Adrift on an Ice-Pan by Wilfred Thomason Grenfell, installment #4

The following excerpt is from Adrift on an Ice-Pan by Wilfred Thomason Grenfell. A true account of Grenfell's near death experience, the story was first published in 1909 by Houghton Mifflin Company.

The unabridged audiobook edition of Adrift on an Ice-Pan, narrated by Chris Brookes, Jay Roberts and Janis Spence is available from Rattling Books as a digital download or you can get the physical audiobook CD from Fred's Records

Excerpt

It was impossible to make any progress through the sish ice by swimming, so I lay there and thought all would soon be over, only wondering if any one would ever know how it happened. There was no particular horror attached to it, and in fact I began to feel drowsy, as if I could easily go to sleep, when suddenly I saw the trace of another big dog that had himself gone through before he reached the pan, and though he was close to it was quite unable to force his way out. Along this I hauled myself, using him as a bow anchor, but mch bothered by the other dogs as I passed them, one of which got on my shoulder, pushing me farther down into the ice. There was only a yard or so more when I had passed my living anchor, and soon I lay with my dogs around me on the little piece of slob ice. I had to help them on to it, working them through the lane that I had made.

The piece of ice we were on was so small it was obvious we must soon all be drowned, if we remained upon it as it drifted seaward into more open water. If we were to save our lives, no time was to be lost. When I stood up, I could see about twenty yards away a larger pan floating amidst the sish, like a great flat raft, and if we could get on to it we should postpone at least for a time the death that already seemed almost inevitable. It was impossible to reach it with0ut a life line, as I had already learned to my cost, and the next problem was how to get one there. Marvelous to relate, when I had first fallen through, after I had cut the dogs a drift without any hope let of saving myself, I had not let my knife sink, but had fastened it by two half hitches to the back of one of the dogs. To my great joy there it was still, and shortly I was at work cutting all the sealskin traces still hanging from the dogs' harnesses, and splicing them together into one long line. These I divided and fastened to the backs of my two leaders, tying the near ends round my two wrists. I then pointed out to “Brin” the pan I wanted to reach and tried my best to make them go ahead, giving them the full length of my lines from two coils. My long sealskin moccasins, reaching to my thigh, were full of ice and water. These I took off and tied separately on the dogs' backs. My coat, hat, gloves, and overalls I had already lost. At fist, nothing would induce the two dogs to move, and though I threw them off the pan two or three times, they struggled back upon it, which perhaps was only natural, because as soon as they fell through they could see nowhere else to make for. To me, however, this seemed to spell “the end.” Fortunately, I had with me a small black spaniel, almost a featherweight, with large furry paws, called “Jack,” who acts as my mascot and incidentally as my retriever. This at once flashed into my mind, and I felt I had still one more chance for life. So I spoke, to him and showed him the direction, and then threw a piece of ice toward the desired goal. Without a moment's hesitation he made a dash for it, and to my great joy got there safely, the tough scale of sea ice carrying his weight bravely. At once I shouted to him to “lie down,” and this, too, he immediately did, looking like a little black fuzz ball on the white setting.

My leaders could now see him seated there on the new piece of floe, and when once more I threw them off they understood what I wanted, and fought their way to where they saw the spaniel, carrying with them the line that gave me the one chance for my life. The other dogs followed them, and after painful struggling, all got out again except one. Taking all the run that I could get on my little pan, I made a dive, slithering with the impetus along the surface till once more I sank through. After a long fight, however, I was able to haul myself by the long traces on to this new pan, having taken carre beforehand to tie the harnesses to which I was holding under the dogs' bellies, so that they could not slip them off. But alas! The pan I was now on was not large enough to bear us and was already beginning to sink, so this process had to be repeated immediately.

I now realized that, though we had been working toward the shore, we had been losing ground all the time, for the off-shore wind had already driven us a hundred yards farther out. But the widening gap kept full of the pounded ice, through which no man could possibly go.

To be continued.

Excerpt: Adrift on an Ice-Pan by Wilfred Thomason Grenfell, installment #3

The following excerpt is from Adrift on an Ice-Pan by Wilfred Thomason Grenfell. A true account of Grenfell's near death experience, the story was first published in 1909 by Houghton Mifflin Company. The unabridged audio edition narrated by Chris Brookes, Jay Roberts and Janis Spence is available from rattlingbooks.com

Excerpt

There was not a moment to lose. I tore off my oilskins, threw myself on my hands and knees by the side of the komatik to give a larger base to hold, and shouted to my team to go ahead for the shore. Before we had gone twenty yards, the dogs got frightened, hesitated for a moment, and the komatik instantly sank into the slob. It was necessary then for the dogs to pull much harder, so that they now began to sink in also.

Earlier in the season the father of the very boy I was going to operate on had been drowned in this same way, this dogs tangling their traces around him in the slob. This flashed into my mind, and I managed to loosen my sheath-knife, scramble forward, find the traces in the water and cut them, holding on to the leader’s trace wound round my wrist.

Being in the water I could see no piece of ice that would bear anything up. But there was as it happened a piece of snow, frozen together like a large snowball, about twenty-five yards away, near where my leading dog, “Brin,” was wallowing in the slob. Upon this he very shortly climbed, his long trace of ten fathoms almost reaching there before he went into the water.

This dog has weird black markings on his face, giving him the appearance of wearing a perpetual grin. After climbing out on the snow as if it were the most natural position in the world he deliberately shook the ice and water from his long coat, and then turned round to look for me. As he sat perched up there out of the water he seemed to be grinning with satisfaction. The other dogs were hopelessly bogged. Indeed, we were like flies in treacle.

Gradually, I hauled myself along the line that was still tied to my wrist, till without any warning the dog turned round and slipped out of his harness, and then once more turned his grinning face to where I was struggling.


To be continued.

Excerpt: Adrift on an Ice-Pan by Wilfred Thomason Grenfell, installment #2

The following is an excerpt from Adrift on an Ice-Pan by Wilfred Thomason Grenfell. A true account of Grenfell's near death experience, it was first published in 1909 by Houghton Mifflin Company. The unabridged audiobook edition narrated by Chris Brookes, Jay Roberts and Janis Spence is available from Rattling Books.

Excerpt

It was late in April, when there is always the risk of getting wet through the ice, so that I was carefully prepared with spare outfit, which included a change of garments, snowshoes, rifle, compass, axe, and oilskin overclothes. The messengers were anxious that their team should travel back with mine, for they were slow at best and needed a lead. My dogs, however, being a powerful team, could not be held back, and though I managed to wait twice for their sleigh, I had reached a village about twenty miles on the journey before nightfall, and had fed the dogs, and was gathering a few people for prayers when they caught me up.

During the night the wind shifted to the northeast, which brought in fog and rain, softened the snow, and made traveling very bad, besides heaving a heavy sea into the bay. Our drive next morning would be somewhat over forty miles, the first ten miles on an arm of the sea, on salt-water ice.

In order not to be separated too long from my friends, I sent them ahead two hours before me, appointing a rendezvous in a log tilt that we have built in the woods as a halfway house. There is no one living on all that long coast-line, and to provide against accidents – which have happened more than once – we built this hut to keep dry clothing, food, and drugs in.

The first rain of the year was falling when I started, and I was obliged to keep on what we call the “ballicaters,” or ice barricades, much farther up the bay than I had expected. The sea of the night before had smashed the ponderous covering of ice right to the landwash. There were great gaping chasms between the enormous blocks, which we call pans, and half a mile out it was all clear water.

An island three miles out had preserved a bridge of ice, however, and by crossing a few cracks I managed to reach it. From the island it was four miles across to a rocky promontory, - a course that would be several miles shorter than going round the shore. Here as far as the eye could reach the ice seemed good, though it was very rough. Obviously, it had been smashed up by the sea and then packed in again by the strong wind from the northeast, and I thought it had frozen together solid.

All went well till I was about a quarter of a mile from the landing-point. Then the wind suddenly fell, and I noticed that I was traveling over loose “sish,” which was like porridge and probably many feet deep. By stabbing down, I could drive my whip-handle through the thin coating of young ice that was floating on it. The sish ice consists of the tiny fragments where the large pans have been pounding together on the heaving sea, like the stones of Freya’s grinding mill.

So quickly did the wind now come off shore, and so quickly did the packed “slob,” relieved of the wind pressure, “run abroad,” that already I could not see one pan larger than ten feet square; moveover, the ice was loosening so rapidly that I saw that retreat was absolutely impossible. Neither was there any way to get off the little pan I was surveying from.

To be continued.

Excerpt: Easter Sunday from Adrift on an Ice-Pan by Wilfred Thomason Grenfell

The following is an excerpt from Adrift on an Ice-Pan by Wilfred Thomason Grenfell. A true account of Grenfell's near death experience it was first published in 1909 by Houghton Mifflin Company.

The unabridged audiobook edition narrated by Chris Brookes, Jay Roberts and Janis Spence is available as a digital download from Rattling Books or as an audiobook CD from Fred's Records in St. John's, Newfoundland and Labrador.


It was Easter Sunday at St. Anthony in the year 1908, but with us in northern Newfoundland still winter. Everything was covered with snow and ice. I was walking back after morning service, when a boy came running over from the hospital with the news that a large team of dogs had come from sixty miles to the southward, to get a doctor on a very urgent case. It was that of a young man on whom we had operated about a fortnight before for an acute bone disease in the thigh. The people had allowed the wound to close, the poisoned matter had accumulated, and we thought we should have to remove the leg. There was obviously, therefore, no time to be lost. So, having packed up the necessary instruments, dressings, and drugs, and having fitted out the dog-sleigh with my best dogs, I started at once, the messengers following me with their team.

My team was an especially good one. On many a long journey they had stood by me and pulled me out of difficulties by their sagacity and endurance. To a lover of his dogs, as every Christian man must be, each one had become almost as precious as a child to its mother. They were beautiful beasts: "Brin," the cleverest leader on the coast; "Doc," a large, gentle beast, the backbone of the team for power; "Spy," a wiry, powerful black and white dog; "Moody," a lop-eared black-and-tan, in this htird season, a plodder that never looked behind him; "Watch," the youngster of the team, long-legged and speedy, with great liquid eyes and a Gordon-setter coat; "Sue," a large, dark Eskimo, the image of a great black wolf, with her sharp pointed and perpendicular ears, for she "harked back" to her wild ancestry; "Jerry," a large roan-colored slut, the quickest of all my dogs on her feet, and so affectionate that her overtures of joy had often sent me sprawling on my back; "Jack," a jet-black, gentle-natured dog, more like a retriever, that always ran next the sledge, and never looked back but everlastingly pulled straight ahead, running always with his nose to the ground.

To be continued.

An abbreviated Time line of the Life and Accomplishments of Sir Wilfred Grenfell

The Following Chronological List of events and accomplishments in the life of Sir Wilfred Grenfell is reproduced from the Grenfell Historic Properties Site (* addition by Rattling Books):

1865 Wilfred Thomason Grenfell born in Parkgate, England, February 28.
1883 Enters medical school at the London Hospital.
1885 Inspired by evangelist Dwight Moody to do God's work.
1886 Becomes a medical doctor and joins the Royal National Mission to Deep Sea Fishermen.
1892 Comes to investigate the condition of the fishermen on the Labrador coast.
1893 Builds first hospital at Battle Harbour, Labrador.
1894 Grenfell Labrador Medical Mission formed.
1896 Makes first lecture tour of U.S.A.; starts Red Bay. Co-operative
1900 Chooses St. Anthony as headquarters for Grenfell Mission; acquires first hospital ship, Strathcona I.
1901Establishes co-operative lumber mill at Roddickton.
1905 Starts orphanage in St. Anthony; Andrew Carnegie donates travelling library.
1906 Start of Grenfell Industrial Department.
1907 The Companion of the Most Distinguished Order of St. Michael and St. George presented to Dr. Grenfell. Formation of Grenfell Association of America and Grenfell Association of New England.
1908 Brings reindeer to Newfoundland from Lapland; adrift on an icepan, Easter Sunday, April 21.
1909 Establishes non-denominational school at St. Anthony; marries Anne Elizabeth Caldwell MacClanahan on November 18.
1910 Birth of son, Wilfred Thomason, Jr.
1912 Formation of International Grenfell Association; birth of son Kinloch Pascoe.
1917 Birth of daughter, Rosamond Loveday.
1921 Builds brick orphanage at St. Anthony.
1926 Formation of Grenfell Association of Great Britain and Northern Ireland; Grenfell has first heart attack.
1927 Knight Commander of The Order of St. Michael and St. George presented to Dr. Grenfell. New hospital at St. Anthony opens.
1928 Construction of marine slipway and dry dock in St. Anthony.
1929 Grenfell has second heart attack.
1931 Forbes-Grenfell expedition to chart entire Labrador coast
1937 Grenfell retires as Superintendent.
1938 Lady Grenfell dies.
1940 Dr. Grenfell dies.
1978 Formation of Grenfell Historical Society.
1981 Grenfell Regional Health Services established.
1992 The Grenfell Centennial.
1998 Completion of the Grenfell Masterplan.

Unabridged audiobook edition of Adrift on an Ice Pan narrated and produced by Chris Brookes with Jay Roberts and Janis Spence (Rattling Books) is available as Digital Download.

Short Bio of Wilfred Grenfell from Canadian Encylopedia

Grenfell, Sir Wilfred Thomason
Medical Missionary (b at Parkgate, Eng 28 Feb 1865; d at Charlotte, Vt 9 Oct 1940)

The following short bio by TERENCE MACARTNEY-FILGATE is found in the Canadian Encyclopedia:

"Grenfell, Sir Wilfred Thomason, medical missionary (b at Parkgate, Eng 28 Feb 1865; d at Charlotte, Vt 9 Oct 1940). Grenfell entered the London Medical School in 1883 and 2 years later was converted to active CHRISTIANITY at a tent meeting of American evangelist Dwight L. Moody. In 1888 he followed the suggestion of one of his teachers, Sir Frederick Treves, that he join the Royal National Mission to Deep Sea Fishermen. He was made superintendent in 1889 and for 3 months in 1892, at the mission's request, cruised the Newfoundland and Labrador coast where 30,000 stationers, 3300 "livyers" (permanent settlers) and 1700 Inuit received only an annual visit from one government doctor. Grenfell treated 900 patients and saw a great opportunity for medical and missionary work. He raised funds to open the first hospital at Battle Harbour in 1893. Grenfell was a forceful speaker and easily gained the friendship of influential men. His medical mission grew rapidly with hospital, orphanage and nursing stations and the first co-operatives in Newfoundland. Grenfell did not winter in the North until 1899 and spent comparatively few winters there, establishing his headquarters at ST ANTHONY, Nfld. A prolific writer and forceful publicist, he often used artistic licence in accounts of life on the northern coasts. His main financial support came from the US. In 1909 he married a Chicago heiress, Anne MacClanahan, who took him away from life on the coast. Growing friction with the mission eventually led to a split, and the International Grenfell Assn was incorporated in 1912. The practical medical work of the IGA was carried on by dedicated if autocratic doctors, while Grenfell became increasingly involved in fund raising. He was made CMG in 1906 and KCMG in 1927, the year in which he retired to Vermont. Famous in his lifetime, he is now largely forgotten; his papers are in the Yale medical history library."

The unabridged audiobook edition of Adrift on an Ice Pan by Wilfred Grenfell is available as a digital download online from Rattling Books.

Wilfred Grenfell Birthday Special

February 28th is Wilfred Grenfell's Birthday &
Rattling Books is celebrating with a Special.

30% off Adrift on an Ice Pan audiobook Download

1 Day only  (from now until midnight February 28)


How does a man save his own life? In 1908 Dr. Wilfred Grenfell, a medical missionary in northern Newfoundland, was traveling by dog team to treat a patient. In his haste Grenfell took a short cut across the sea ice. A change of wind and ice conditions left the doctor and his sled dogs stranded on an ice pan, their komatik and provisions lost. Grenfell came close to perishing.

Adrift on an Ice Pan is Grenfell’s own account of this near-fatal misadventure. He survived dauntingly cold and seemingly hopeless conditions through an inventive presence of mind and by sacrificing and skinning three of his sled dogs to clothe himself against the elements. Because of his tenacity and quick thinking and that of his rescuers, Grenfell endured.

If you like arctic or outdoor adventure stories or are on the look out for winter survival tips you'll enjoy the blow by blow of Grenfell's tale.

To the memory of Grenfell’s rescuers George Davis, George Andrews, George Reid and Mr. Reid’s two sons. And to Moodie, Watch and Spy whose lives were given for Grenfell’s April 21, 1908.

The unabridged audiobook edition of Adrift on an Ice Pan was recorded and produced for Rattling Books by Chris Brookes.
Read by the following (in order of duration): Chris Brookes as Wilfred Grenfell, Jay Roberts as George Andrews, Janis Spence additional narration and acting direction

Possible Christmas Conspiracy involving Newfoundland: Did Santa once operate out of St. Anthony in collusion with Wilfred Grenfell?

This photograph of Santa's reindeer and some of Santa's Nelfers (term for Newfoundland elves) was taken in St. Anthony circa 1907.

This photographic slide can be found in the International Grenfell Association Lantern Slides Collection presented online by the Memorial University of Newfoundland’s Digital Archive Initiative (DAI).

Photographic evidence of Santa's reindeer and Nelfers active in St. Anthony during Wilfred Grenfell's time there suggests that the Grenfell Association may have functioned as a cover for Santa's activities during that period.

Wilfred Grenfell is otherwise best known for being adrift on an ice pan and writing a best selling account of his adventures. That account, Adrift on an Ice Pan, a gripping one with absolutely no mention of Santa, is available as an unabridged audio edition from Rattling Books.

Final Excerpt (#24 of 24) from Adrift on an Ice Pan by Sir Wilfred Grenfell

Excerpt #24 from Adrift on an Ice Pan by Wilfred Thomasen Grenfell


(N.B. It was in 1908 that Grenfell, a medical missionary in northern Newfoundland was traveling by dog team to treat a patient, became stranded on an ice pan and came close to perishing. The following excerpt is from Grenfell's account of this adventure.)



Excerpt



THE RESCUERS' STORY CONTINUED



"As soon as 'twas light us went to th' cliff wi' th' spy-glass to see
if us could see un, but thar warn't nothin' in sight. Us know by the
wind whar t' look fur un, an' us launched th' boat. George Read an'
'is two sons, an' George Davis, what seen un first, an' me, was th'
crew. George Read was skipper-man an' th' rest was just youngsters.
The sun was warm,--you mind 'twas a fine mornin',--an' us started in
our shirt an' braces fur us knowed thar'd be hard work to do. I knowed
thar was a chance o' not comin' back at all, but it didn' make no
difference. I knowed I'd as good a chance as any, _an' 'twa' for th'
doctor, an' 'is life's worth many_, an' somehow I couldn' let a man go
out like dat wi'out tryin' fur un, an' I think us all felt th' same.

"Us 'ad a good strong boat an' four oars, an' took a hot kettle o' tea
an' food for a week, for us thought u'd 'ave t' go far an' p'rhaps
lose th' boat an' 'ave t' walk ashore un th' ice. I din' 'ope to find
the doctor alive an' kept lookin' for a sign of un on th' pans. 'Twa'
no' easy gettin' to th' pans wi' a big sea runnin'! Th' big pans 'ud
sometimes heave together an' near crush th' boat, an' sometimes us 'ad
t' git out an' haul her over th' ice t' th' water again. Then us come
t' th' slob ice where th' pan 'ad ground together, an' 'twas all
thick, an' that was worse'n any. Us saw th' doctor about twenty
minutes afore us got t' un. 'E was wavin' 'is flag an' I seen 'im. 'E
was on a pan no bigger'n this flor, an' I dunno what ever kep' un fro'
goin' abroad, for 'twasn't ice, 'twas packed snow. Th' pan was away
from even th' slob, floatin' by hisself, an' th' open water all roun',
an' 'twas just across fro' Goose Cove, an' outside o' that there'd
been no hope. I think th' way th' pan held together was on account o'
th' dogs' bodies meltin' it an' 't froze hard durin' th' night. 'E
was level with th' water an' th' sea washin' over us all th' time.

"When us got near un, it didn' seem like 'twas th' doctor. 'E looked
so old an' 'is face such a queer color. 'E was very solemn-like when
us took un an' th' dogs on th' boat. No un felt like sayin' much, an'
'e 'ardly said nothin' till us gave un some tea an' loaf an' then 'e
talked. I s'pose e was sort o' faint-like. Th' first thing 'e said
was, how wonderfu' sorry 'e was o' gettin' into such a mess an' givin'
we th' trouble o' comin' out for un. Us tol' un not to think o' that;
us was glad to do it for un, an' 'e'd done it for any one o' we, many
times over if 'e 'ad th' chance;--an' so 'e would. An' then 'e
fretted about th' b'y 'e was goin' to see, it bein' too late to reach
un, an' us tol' un 'is life was worth so much more 'n th' b'y, fur 'e
could save others an' th' b'y couldn'. But 'e still fretted.

"'E 'ad ripped th' dog-harnesses an' stuffed th' oakum in th' legs o'
'is pants to keep un warm. 'E showed it to we. An' 'e cut off th' tops
o' 'is boots to keep th' draught from 'is back. 'E must 'a' worked
'ard all night. 'E said 'e droled off once or twice, but th' night
seemed wonderfu' long.

"Us took un off th' pan at about half-past seven, an' 'ad a 'ard fight
gettin' in, th' sea still runnin' 'igh. 'E said 'e was proud to see us
comin' for un, and so 'e might, for it grew wonderfu' cold in th' day
and th' sea so 'igh the pan couldn' 'a' lived outside. 'E wouldn'
stop when us got ashore, but must go right on, an' when 'e 'ad dry
clothes an' was a bit warm, us sent un to St. Anthony with a team.

"Th' next night, an' for nights after, I couldn' sleep. I'd keep
seein' that man standin' on th' ice, an' I'd be sorter half-awake
like, sayin', 'But not th' doctor. Sure _not_ th' _doctor_.'"

There was silence for a few moments, and George Andrews looked out
across the blue harbor to the sea.

"'E sent us watches an' spy-glasses," said he, "an' pictures o'
hisself that one o' you took o' un, made large an' in a frame. George
Read an' me 'ad th' watches an' th' others 'ad th' spy-glasses. 'Ere's
th' watch. It 'as 'In memory o' April 21st' on it, but us don't need
th' things to make we remember it, tho' we 're wonderful glad t' 'ave
'em from th' doctor."







THE END.



**************



The above excerpt is from Adrift on an Ice-Pan by Wilfred Thomason Grenfell. A true account of Grenfell's near death experience, the story was first published in 1909 by Houghton Mifflin Company.



The unabridged audio edition, narrated by Chris Brookes, Jay Roberts and Janis Spence, is available from Rattling Books.

Excerpt #23 from Adrift on an Ice Pan by Sir Wilfred Grenfell

Excerpt #23 from Adrift on an Ice Pan by Wilfred Thomasen Grenfell



(N.B. It was in 1908 that Grenfell, a medical missionary in northern Newfoundland was traveling by dog team to treat a patient, became stranded on an ice pan and came close to perishing. The following excerpt is from Grenfell's account of this adventure.)



Excerpt

APPENDIX

One of Dr. Grenfell's volunteer helpers, Miss Luther of Providence,
R.I., contributes the following account of the rescue as recited in
the Newfoundland vernacular by one of the rescuing party.

"One day, about a week after Dr. Grenfell's return," says Miss Luther,
"two men came in from Griquet, fifteen miles away. They had walked all
that distance, though the trail was heavy with soft snow and they
often sank to their waists and waded through brooks and ponds. 'We
just felt we must see the doctor and tell him what 't would 'a' meant
to us, if he'd been lost.' Perhaps nothing but the doctor's own tale
could be more graphic than what was told by George Andrews, one of the
crew who rescued him."

THE RESCUERS' STORY

"It was wonderfu' bad weather that Monday mornin'. Th' doctor was to
Lock's Cove. None o' we thought o' 'is startin' out. I don't think th'
doctor hisself thought o' goin' at first an' then 'e sent th' two men
on ahead for to meet us at th' tilt an' said like 's 'e was goin'
after all.



"'Twas even' when us knew 'e was on th' ice. George Davis seen un
first. 'E went to th' cliff to look for seal. It was after sunset an'
half dark, but 'e thought 'e saw somethin' on th' ice an' 'e ran for
George Read an' 'e got 'is spy-glass an' made out a man an' dogs on a
pan an' knowed it war th' doctor.



"It was too dark fur we t' go t' un, but us never slept at all, all
night. I couldn' sleep. Us watched th' wind an' knew if it didn' blow
too hard us could get un,--though 'e was then three mile off a'ready.
So us waited for th' daylight. No one said who was goin' out in th'
boat. Un 'ud say, 'Is you goin'?' An' another, 'Is you?' I didn' say,
but I knowed what I'd do.

To be continued.



**************



The above excerpt is from Adrift on an Ice-Pan by Wilfred Thomason Grenfell. A true account of Grenfell's near death experience, the story was first published in 1909 by Houghton Mifflin Company.



The unabridged audio edition, narrated by Chris Brookes, Jay Roberts and Janis Spence, is available from Rattling Books.

Excerpt #22 from Adrift on an Ice Pan by Sir Wilfred Grenfell

Excerpt #22 from Adrift on an Ice Pan by Wilfred Thomasen Grenfell



(N.B. It was in 1908 that Grenfell, a medical missionary in northern Newfoundland was traveling by dog team to treat a patient, became stranded on an ice pan and came close to perishing. The following excerpt is from Grenfell's account of this adventure.)



Excerpt

It is time to bring this egotistic narrative to an end. "Jack" lies
curled up by my feet while I write this short account. "Brin" is once
again leading and lording it over his fellows. "Doc" and the other
survivors are not forgotten, now that we have again returned to the
less romantic episodes of a mission hospital life. There stands in our
hallway a bronze tablet to the memory of three noble dogs, Moody,
Watch, and Spy, whose lives were given for mine on the ice. In my
home in England my brother has placed a duplicate tablet, and has
added these words, "Not one of them is forgotten before your Father
which is in heaven." And this I most fully believe to be true. The boy
whose life I was intent on saving was brought to the hospital a day or
two later in a boat, the ice having cleared off the coast not to
return for that season. He was operated on successfully, and is even
now on the high road to recovery. We all love life. I was glad to be
back once more with possibly a new lease of it before me. I had
learned on the pan many things, but chiefly that the one cause for
regret, when we look back on a life which we think is closed forever,
will be the fact that we have wasted its opportunities. As I went to
sleep that first night there still rang in my ears the same verse of
the old hymn which had been my companion on the ice, "Thy will, not
mine, O Lord."


To be continued.



**************



The above excerpt is from Adrift on an Ice-Pan by Wilfred Thomason Grenfell. A true account of Grenfell's near death experience, the story was first published in 1909 by Houghton Mifflin Company.



The unabridged audio edition, narrated by Chris Brookes, Jay Roberts and Janis Spence, is available from Rattling Books.

Excerpt #21 from Adrift on an Ice Pan by Sir Wilfred Grenfell

Excerpt #21 from Adrift on an Ice Pan by Wilfred Thomasen Grenfell



(N.B. It was in 1908 that Grenfell, a medical missionary in northern Newfoundland was traveling by dog team to treat a patient, became stranded on an ice pan and came close to perishing. The following excerpt is from Grenfell's account of this adventure.)



Excerpt



Every soul in the village was on the beach as we neared the shore.
Every soul was waiting to shake hands when I landed. Even with the
grip that one after another gave me, some no longer trying to keep
back the tears, I did not find out my hands were frost-burnt,--a fact
I have not been slow to appreciate since, however. I must have been a
weird sight as I stepped ashore, tied up in rags, stuffed out with
oakum, wrapped in the bloody skins of dogs, with no hat, coat, or
gloves besides, and only a pair of short knickers. It must have seemed
to some as if it were the old man of the sea coming ashore.



But no time was wasted before a pot of tea was exactly where I wanted
it to be, and some hot stew was locating itself where I had intended
an hour before the blood of one of my remaining dogs should have gone.



Rigged out in the warm garments that fishermen wear, I started with a
large team as hard as I could race for the hospital, for I had learnt
that the news had gone over that I was lost. It was soon painfully
impressed upon me that I could not much enjoy the ride, for I had to
be hauled like a log up the hills, my feet being frost-burnt so that I
could not walk. Had I guessed this before going into the house, I
might have avoided much trouble.





To be continued.



**************



The above excerpt is from Adrift on an Ice-Pan by Wilfred Thomason Grenfell. A true account of Grenfell's near death experience, the story was first published in 1909 by Houghton Mifflin Company.



The unabridged audio edition, narrated by Chris Brookes, Jay Roberts and Janis Spence, is available from Rattling Books.

Excerpt #20 from Adrift on an Ice Pan by Sir Wilfred Grenfell

Excerpt #20 from Adrift on an Ice Pan by Wilfred Thomasen Grenfell



(N.B. It was in 1908 that Grenfell, a medical missionary in northern Newfoundland was traveling by dog team to treat a patient, became stranded on an ice pan and came close to perishing. The following excerpt is from Grenfell's account of this adventure.)



Excerpt



All the time I had been driving along I knew that there was one man on
that coast who had a good spy-glass. He tells me he instantly got up
in the midst of his supper, on hearing the news, and hurried over the
cliffs to the lookout, carrying his trusty spy-glass with him.
Immediately, dark as it was, he saw that without any doubt there was a
man out on the ice. Indeed, he saw me wave my hands every now and
again towards the shore. By a very easy process of reasoning on so
uninhabited a shore, he at once knew who it was, though some of the
men argued that it must be some one else. Little had I thought, as
night was closing in, that away on that snowy hilltop lay a man with a
telescope patiently searching those miles of ice for _me_. Hastily
they rushed back to the village and at once went down to try to launch
a boat, but that proved to be impossible. Miles of ice lay between
them and me, the heavy sea was hurling great blocks on the landwash,
and night was already falling, the wind blowing hard on shore.



The whole village was aroused, and messengers were despatched at once
along the coast, and lookouts told off to all the favorable points,
so that while I considered myself a laughing-stock, bowing with my
flag to those unresponsive cliffs, there were really many eyes
watching me. One man told me that with his glass he distinctly saw me
waving the shirt flag. There was little slumber that night in the
villages, and even the men told me there were few dry eyes, as they
thought of the impossibility of saving me from perishing. We are not
given to weeping overmuch on this shore, but there are tears that do a
man honor.



Before daybreak this fine volunteer crew had been gotten together. The
boat, with such a force behind it of will power, would, I believe,
have gone through anything. And, after seeing the heavy breakers
through which we were guided, loaded with their heavy ice
battering-rams, when at last we ran through the harbor-mouth with the
boat on our return, I knew well what wives and children had been
thinking of when they saw their loved ones put out. Only two years ago
I remember a fisherman's wife watching her husband and three sons take
out a boat to bring in a stranger that was showing flags for a pilot.
But the boat and its occupants have not yet come back.






To be continued.



**************



The above excerpt is from Adrift on an Ice-Pan by Wilfred Thomason Grenfell. A true account of Grenfell's near death experience, the story was first published in 1909 by Houghton Mifflin Company.



The unabridged audio edition, narrated by Chris Brookes, Jay Roberts and Janis Spence, is available from Rattling Books.

Excerpt #19 from Adrift on an Ice Pan by Sir Wilfred Grenfell

Excerpt #19 from Adrift on an Ice Pan by Wilfred Thomasen Grenfell



(N.B. It was in 1908 that Grenfell, a medical missionary in northern Newfoundland was traveling by dog team to treat a patient, became stranded on an ice pan and came close to perishing. The following excerpt is from Grenfell's account of this adventure.)



Excerpt




So, slowly but steadily, we forged through to the shore, now jumping
out on to larger pans and forcing them apart with the oars, now
hauling the boat out and dragging her over, when the jam of ice packed
tightly in by the rising wind was impossible to get through otherwise.



My first question, when at last we found our tongues, was, "How ever
did you happen to be out in the boat in this ice?" To my astonishment
they told me that the previous night four men had been away on a long
headland cutting out some dead harp seals that they had killed in the
fall and left to freeze up in a rough wooden store they had built
there, and that as they were leaving for home, my pan of ice had
drifted out clear of Hare Island, and one of them, with his keen
fisherman's eyes, had seen something unusual. They at once returned to
their village, saying there was something alive drifting out to sea on
the floe ice. But their report had been discredited, for the people
thought that it could be only the top of some tree.






To be continued.



**************



The above excerpt is from Adrift on an Ice-Pan by Wilfred Thomason Grenfell. A true account of Grenfell's near death experience, the story was first published in 1909 by Houghton Mifflin Company.



The unabridged audio edition, narrated by Chris Brookes, Jay Roberts and Janis Spence, is available from Rattling Books.

Excerpt #18 from Adrift on an Ice Pan by Sir Wilfred Grenfell

Excerpt #18 from Adrift on an Ice Pan by Wilfred Thomasen Grenfell



(N.B. It was in 1908 that Grenfell, a medical missionary in northern Newfoundland was traveling by dog team to treat a patient, became stranded on an ice pan and came close to perishing. The following excerpt is from Grenfell's account of this adventure.)



Excerpt

As the man in the bow leaped from the boat on to my ice raft and
grasped both my hands in his, not a word was uttered. I could see in
his face the strong emotions he was trying hard to force back, though
in spite of himself tears trickled down his cheeks. It was the same
with each of the others of my rescuers, nor was there any reason to be
ashamed of them. These were not the emblems of weak sentimentality,
but the evidences of the realization of the deepest and noblest
emotion of which the human heart is capable, the vision that God has
use for us his creatures, the sense of that supreme joy of the
Christ,--the joy of unselfish service. After the hand-shake and
swallowing a cup of warm tea that had been thoughtfully packed in a
bottle, we hoisted in my remaining dogs and started for home. To drive
the boat home there were not only five Newfoundland fishermen at the
oars, but five men with Newfoundland muscles in their backs, and five
as brave hearts as ever beat in the bodies of human beings.


To be continued.



**************



The above excerpt is from Adrift on an Ice-Pan by Wilfred Thomason Grenfell. A true account of Grenfell's near death experience, the story was first published in 1909 by Houghton Mifflin Company.



The unabridged audio edition, narrated by Chris Brookes, Jay Roberts and Janis Spence, is available from Rattling Books.