THE NEW SIBERIAN ISLANDS. 



35 



Watching them closely, I saw they had no lack of 

 water, and I took in my boat the seven belonging to 

 the whaleboat, and drifted down toward them. I say 

 drifted, for we were so deep we dared not pole, and 

 still less did I dare to sail. Soon I met the whaleboat 

 coming back, and Melville reported plenty of water 

 right up to the point. Gave him his people, and went 

 on. The second cutter had rounded the point and came 

 to against the beach and I ran in alongside her, and at 

 6.30 we all landed on the beach or sand bank, whatever 

 it is, pitched camp, unloaded, and hauled up our boats. 



What I thought I was doing. 



What I was doing. 



Now where are we ? Snow squalls, fog, and thick 

 weather generally prevented my seeing anything ex- 

 cept that we had landed on a sandy spot, with lots 

 of drift-wood, but whether an island, or a low beach 

 extending from Kotelnoi Island, I knew not. Dimly 

 through the snow the loom of mountains could be seen 

 to the westward, but whether distant five miles or fifty I 

 could not say. Everybody was wet and cold, — running 

 before the sea, with loaded boats, being no dry operation, 

 — and I was only too thankful to get a place for my 

 people where we were at least secure, to care much for 

 its geographical peculiarities. 



I had been in my wet clothes since falling overboard, 

 and they clung unpleasantly to me, chilling me to the 



