The captain said to Cox, his only remaining companion, "The best foot forward now, or we shall be left out here; and to be out one more night, we are gone."
Having traveled two or three miles, as we should judge, from the place where our shipmate died, we discovered something in the distance, from one to two miles, skimming along apparently on the ice, which at first had the appearance of a flock of crows. Cox said to the captain, "The crows have come for us already." But upon further inspection, and the object approaching nearer, it turned out to be four or five dog teams, with three of Mr. Fisher's party and a number of natives, bound back to the settlement to let their companions know that they had found good quarters, and also to bring some of them away with them.
This was cheering news indeed—cheering because Mr. Fisher and his party were alive, cheering because it revived our desponding spirits, and infused new hope into our minds that permanent help was not far off.
Those who accompanied the natives with the dog teams saw at once how nearly exhausted the captain and Cox were, but yet the natives were unwilling to take them to the nearest settlement. And, besides, there would have been as great danger, and perhaps even greater, for us to have ridden on the supposition that the natives had been disposed to carry us, than for us to have walked. We should have been chilled to death, if we had remained still or quiet, in a very short time.
The direction to the nearest settlement on the coast was pointed out to us; and we were put upon the track made by the dog teams, and told that the distance to it was six or eight miles.
The captain told Cox, "We must reach the place before dark; the last effort must now be put forth—the best foot forward." It was now about twelve o'clock, M. We started in the direction of the huts, and traveled on as fast as we could, though at the best very slow. The snow was deep, and hard to travel.
All the mental and physical energy which we possessed was called into requisition to aid us in reaching a resting place before night. It was our last exertion. It was indeed a merciful providence that we happened to meet our friends and the natives, otherwise, beyond a reasonable doubt, we should have perished; but meeting them, however, we received great encouragement to our minds, and, furthermore, knew for a certainty the direction and about the distance of the huts. Without such a stimulus as this, and just the one we needed,—for our lives were suspended upon it,—our last resting place on earth would have been made amid the drifting snows of the arctic.
With severe labor and painful exertion, we finally reached the settlement just at night. Before we saw the huts, which were concealed from our view by banks of snow, we were heralded by the barking of the dogs. We knew, therefore, that we were near the abode of human beings. The sound fell on our ears ten thousand times more sweetly than the music of an Æolian harp.
But we hardly knew how we were carried through the last part of our journey. Strength was given to us by the great Father of all. It was of the Lord's mercies that we did not yield to final despondency, and utterly despair of ever beholding the countenances of our friends again. Hope and heart were in the ascendant; if they had once fallen, all would have been over with us.
Sometimes we crawled along on our hands and knees; at other times we would fall down, both upon the right hand and upon the left, and it seemed to us that we could not rise; and then, again, we would get up and struggle on. In this manner we traveled miles, and especially the last part of the way. Indeed, our feet had become dreadfully inflamed, and large blisters had formed on the sides of them, which made the labor of walking exceedingly and distressingly difficult.