“Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee
For those in peril on the sea!”
CHAPTER XXXI
At 7:30 on the morning of Monday, September 12, 1881, ninety-two days since the loss of the Jeannette, we shoved off from Semenovski Island for Cape Barkin on the Lena Delta, ninety-six miles away to the southwest of us. The Jeannette’s company was disposed as follows:
| First Cutter | Second Cutter | Whaleboat |
| Lieut. Comdr. De Long | Lieut. Chipp | Chief Engineer Melville |
| Surgeon Ambler | Mr. Dunbar | Lieut. Danenhower |
| Mr. Collins | Sweetman | Mr. Newcomb |
| Lee | Warren | Cole |
| Nindemann | Johnson | Bartlett |
| Noros | Starr | Leach |
| Erichsen | Kuehne | Wilson |
| Kaack | Sharvell | Manson |
| Görtz | (8) | Lauterbach |
| Dressler | Aneguin | |
| Boyd | Tong Sing | |
| Iversen | (11) | |
| Alexey | ||
| Ah Sam | ||
| (14) |
There was a fresh east wind blowing, the temperature was just below freezing, and it appeared that we were in for a wintry passage. The island behind us as we drew off was a mass of white snow standing out from the dull gray sea. Whitecaps were running everywhere. As we had anticipated, there was little floating ice in sight.
For the first hour, we made good progress, shielded somewhat by Vasselevski Island to windward, this latter being a small island a little to the southeast of Semenovski. By 9:30 A.M., however, we had cleared Vasselevski and received the full force of the sea, careening to it as the boats sped along with the taut sheets singing and our dipping lug sails drawing full. For two hours we sailed on thus, the first cutter leading, my whaleboat next, and Chipp in the second cutter following me, all the boats tossing considerably. At noon, we found ourselves running again through a moderately open drifting pack, which since we had expected to encounter no ice south of Semenovski, disturbed us exceedingly. But accepting what fate sent us, we seized the opportunity, hauled in alongside a floe, and disembarked for dinner—cold pemmican and hot tea boiled over alcohol stoves. I now had five days’ short rations left in my boat, but this worried me little as Chipp and I, stretching our legs on the ice for a few minutes before reembarking, discussed our prospects. We were both very hopeful; with the wind holding as it was from the east, we should make the last eighty miles to Cape Barkin and the Lena Delta with only one night at sea spent in our boats, and then good-by forever to hardship and to pemmican!
“By the way, brother,” I asked, looking into Chipp’s wan face, so thin now that the resemblance which he once bore to General Grant had completely vanished (unless perhaps Grant also looked like that during his Richmond campaign after the Wilderness), “have you taken aboard yet that can of pemmican De Long is carrying for you? That’s your total food supply from now on, you know.”
“No, the skipper’s still got it,” answered Chipp. “But I’m not bothering; I’ll get it from him in the morning if we still need it, which I doubt. Don’t worry, old fellow,” and jokingly he slapped me on the back. “I never expect to have to eat that damned pemmican again!”
“Well, good luck and mind your sailing then, mate.” I shook Chipp’s hand warmly. “We’ll stay reefed down so you can keep up with us.”