Lena Delta
For an instant I gazed, aghast at my discovery, then dropped to my knees to find that that arm belonged to Captain De Long! There he lay, cold and silent in death, half buried in the snow. A yard or two off lay Dr. Ambler, while near their feet, closest to where the fire had been beneath the copper kettle, was stretched Ah Sam. My long search was ended at last!
Mournfully I looked. There had the saga of the Jeannette ended, there in the Arctic snows was my lost captain—dead. For a long time with bowed head, I knelt sobbing before my commander, whom last I had seen, erect in the cockpit of his boat in the midst of that roaring polar gale which had brought swift death to Chipp, waving me on to safety.
As I gazed tear-stricken into his face, calm even in death, I was struck by the odd position of his left arm, upraised with open fingers as if, lying there dying, he had tossed something over his shoulder and his stiffening arm had frozen in that gesture. I looked behind him.
A few feet away in the snow beyond his head lay a small notebook, the journal he had kept since the Jeannette sank. To me it seemed as if De Long, in his dying moment had tossed that journal over his head, away from the fire at his feet lest it should blow in there and be destroyed. I seized the journal and rose. Before me were only three of the captain’s party—where were the other eight? Perhaps the journal, if the dying captain had kept it up, might tell me. Nindemann had parted from the captain on October 9. What had happened since that day? Hurriedly, I separated the frozen leaves and turned to the page marked—
CHAPTER XXXIX
“October 10th, Monday—120th day.
Last half ounce alcohol at 5:30; at 6:30 send Alexey off to look for ptarmigan. Eat deerskin scraps. Yesterday morning ate my deerskin footnips. Light S.S.E. airs. Not very cold. Under way at eight. In crossing creek three of us got wet. Built fire and dried out. Ahead again until eleven. Used up. Built fire. Made a drink out of the tea-leaves from alcohol bottle. On again at noon. Fresh S.S.W. wind, drifting snow, very hard going. Lee begging to be left. Some little beach, and then stretches of high bank. Ptarmigan tracks plentiful. Following Nindemann’s tracks. At three halted, used up; crawled into a hole in the bank, collected wood and built fire. Alexey away in quest of game. Nothing for supper except a spoonful of glycerine. All hands weak and feeble, but cheerful. God help us.
October 11th, Tuesday—121st day.