THE WHITE WORLD 



and our last pieces of fur had been divided, his share was 

 placed next to his sleeping-bag, and a spoon was fastened 

 to his right hand with strips of clothing, so that he might 

 prolong his life if possible. Strange to say, that, although 

 Elison had been, since the early part of November, prac- 

 tically lying on his back all the time (he was unable to 

 turn over alone), without a change of underclothing or a 

 wash, his body was yet clean and only during the last few 

 days did any signs of bed-sores appear. 



The deaths from starvation seemed to be without suffer- 

 ing during the last moments, and all, save probably two, 

 lost consciousness, hours before breathing their last. The 

 death of Gardiner was especially touching, as he held in 

 his hands a little tin-type picture of his dear old mother, and 

 one of his young wife to whom he had been wedded only 

 shortly prior to joining the Expedition, and would fervently 

 gaze upon them. His last words were: " Mother, wife," as 

 if he were bidding them farewell. Lieutenant Kissling- 

 bury became unconscious one day about 9 A. M., but seemed 

 to awake from his lethargy about 3 P. M., when he asked 

 for water, and feeling his end to be near, he died singing 

 the Doxology. The last death to occur at our starvation 

 camp was that of Private Schneider, who died on June 18, 

 just four days before our rescue. 



On June 20, a heavy wind sprang up and increased in 

 velocity on June 21 and June 22, keeping us in the tent. 

 To our misfortune the tent blew down on us in the small 

 hours of June 22, and we lay helplessly pinned under it, 

 patiently awaiting the end. In the evening our poor hearts 

 were gladdened, and our pulses forced to throb faster and 

 stronger again, by the sound of a steam whistle, faintly, 

 but distinctly heard in the distance. Brainard and Long 

 slept in an addition to the tent on its south side, and they 

 being able to move, went out to reconnoitre. Brainard 

 returned shortly, saying: "There is nothing to be seen; it 

 must have been the wind blowing over an empty tin can." 



While discussing the pros and cons of a ship being near, 

 and while I was busying myself with Connell, who was 

 semi-conscious, we heard shouts from outside. In a few 

 seconds our rescuers, who had been gallantly led by that 

 hero of heroes, Commander, now Admiral, W. S. Schley, 



