“There I was… in the barrens of the Arctic. Team lost, ship crushed in the ice, and pursued by a near invisible beast! I’d decided to make for Steffansson’s expedition and forfeit the glory of discovery and naming land features after myself. I’d run out of rifle cartridges and had broken the butt of Father’s old Winchester across the nose of the white bear. The remnant of the rifle became a makeshift splint, which was much needed after the monster swiped at my leg. At least I still had eight rounds in my new Colt 1911 and the compass worked better the further south I ventured. If I made it to Steffanson’s party, I’d have plenty of crow to fill my belly.” -Captain A.E. Sable, recounting his tale to the Halifax Morning Chronicle, September 1918.
