It looked for a minute as if the ship were going to be pushed bodily aground.
All hands were called, and every fire on board was extinguished.

I had no fear of the ship being crushed by the ice, but she might be thrown on her side, when the coals, spilled from a stove, might start that horror of an arctic winter night, the "ship on fire." The Eskimos were thoroughly frightened and set up their weird howling.

Several families began to gather their belongings, and in a few minutes women and children were going over the port rail onto the ice, and making for the box houses on the shore.
The list of the _Roosevelt_ toward the port or shore side grew steadily greater with the increasing pressure from outside.

With the turn of the tide about half-past one in the morning, the motion ceased, but the _Roosevelt_ never regained an even keel until the following spring.

The temperature that night was 25 deg.