FROM FLAXMAN ISLAND TO ICY CAPE 337 



and the good work they had done. And out in the lagoon lay 

 the wreck of the Duchess of Bedford, hauled up on shore and 

 listing over so much that the water stood over the railing. 

 Deserted, full of water, with decks broken out and masts cut 

 down, with every seam open and the sternpost broken, she 

 made a sad contrast to the splendid ship which thirteen months 

 previously had anchored there. Then her hull was black and 

 well kept, her deck clean, the cabins warm and comfortable, the 

 high mast was a landmark for far and wide, and cheerful people 

 moved about everywhere. 



These were melancholy thoughts, and for some time I stood 

 absorbed in them. But my dogs were harnessed, they were 

 eager to start, and there was nothing to wait for. A crack of 

 the whip and a shout to stir them into further activity, and they 

 jumped up, the sledges started, and I had commenced the long 

 march for home. Mr. Leffingwell said good-bye just below the 

 bank. Words did not come readily to us, but we thought all 

 the more. A moment we stood with hands clasped, then 

 abruptly said " good-bye," a silent wish that everything would 

 go well with the other, and the partnership, which we both 

 had done our best to keep so smooth as possible, from which 

 we both had derived so much pleasure and carried away so 

 many pleasant recollections, was dissolved. He started east, 

 to look at Tjimigok; I started west, bound for Valdez and 

 home ! 



Now and then I looked back at the black solitary figure, who 

 in his turn was waving his hand at us, while high up on the 

 bank we saw the familiar picture of our Arctic house and home. 

 But then a point was passed, and house and ship passed for 

 ever from view. 



We moved very slowly ; our dogs pulled hard, and so did Axel 

 and myself, who were both in the hauling straps on either side 

 of the sledge, while Hipana was running ahead and calling out 

 to the dogs. The weather was warm, only 12 C., and very 

 little snow had fallen, so the unshod runners moved heavily 

 over the salty surface of the ice. The ice was thin and con- 

 tinually bent under us as we pushed on slowly and heavily, 

 stopping every now and then to have a rest or look about us. 

 Almost every point we passed, every lagoon or every ruined 

 house or cache, had some memory attached to it, and I felt 



A.I. z 



