TO THE BRIG AGAIN. 
191 
Nessark, the Esquimaux, who had carried Mr. Wilson 
and some stores to Anoatok, finding his sledge-load too 
heavy, had thrown out a portion of it upon the ice. 
Pie had naturally enough selected the bread for his 
jettison, an article of diet unknown among the Esqui¬ 
maux, but precisely that of which our sick were most in 
need. I lost some time in collecting such parts of his 
rejected cargo as I could find, and, when I reached the 
huts after a twelve hours’ drive, the condition of our 
sick men made it imperative that I should return at 
once to the brig. The dogs gave out while crossing 
the reach of Force Bay, and I was forced to camp out 
with them on the ice-belt, but early in the morning I 
came upon the fires of the sledge-party. 
The men were at prayers when I first saw them; 
but, as they passed to the drag-ropes, I was pained to 
see how wearily they moved. Poor Brooks’s legs were 
so swollen that he could not brace them in his blanket 
coverings, and Dr. Hayes could hardly keep his place. 
The men generally showed symptoms of increasing 
scurvy. It was plain that they could not hold their 
own without an increased allowance, if not of meat, at 
least of fresh bread and hot tea. 
Taking with me Morton, my faithful adjutant 
always, I hurried on to the brig. It was in the full 
glare of noon that we entered the familiar curve of 
Rensselaer Bay. The black spars of our deserted 
vessel cut sharply against the shores; there was the 
deeply-marked snow-track that led to Observatory 
Island and the graves of poor Baker and Schubert. 
