196 
GOOD-BYE TO THE BRIG. 
a couple of bagfuls of pork-fat;—a good day’s work,— 
and we were quite ready, before the subdued bright¬ 
ness of midnight came, to turn in to our beds. 
Our beds!—there was not an article of covering left on 
board. We ripped open the old mattresses, and, all 
three crawling down among the curled hair, Morton, 
Metek, and the Nalegak slept as sound as vagrants 
on a haystack. 
On Monday, the 28th, we all set out for the boats 
and Anoatok. Both Metek and myself had our sledges 
heavily laden. We carried the last of our provision- 
bags, completing now our full complement of fifteen 
hundred pounds, the limit of capacity of our otherwise 
crowded boats. 
It caused me a bitter pang to abandon our collection 
of objects of Natural History, the cherished fruit of so 
much exposure and toil; and it was hardly easier to 
leave some other things behind,—several of my Avell- 
tested instruments, for instance, and those silent friends, 
my books. They had all been packed up, hoping for a 
chance of saving them; and, to the credit of my com¬ 
rades, let me say gratefully that they offered to exclude 
both clothes and food in favor of a full freight of these 
treasures. 
But the thing was not to be thought of. I gave a last 
look at the desolate galley-stove, the representative of 
our long winter’s fireside, at the still bright coppers 
now full of frozen water, the theodolite, the chartrbox, 
and poor Wilson’s guitar,—one more at the remnant of 
