Not so, however, the occupants of the two cutters. Lieutenant Chipp's boat has not since been heard of. It was a smaller boat than either of the others, and though commanded by a young officer who enjoyed in an unusual degree the confidence and love of his men, it is not probable that he was able to bring his crew to a place of safety, even though he succeeded in making the land.
THE BOYS OF THE "ST. MARYS" LISTENING TO THE STORY OF THEIR OLD COMMANDER'S DEATH.
The sad story of the fate of De Long and his companions was told several months later by two seamen, named Noros and Ninderman, both of whom had served on board the St. Marys school-ship.
On September 13, Captain De Long's boat, although its mast had been carried away, got within two miles of the Siberian coast, when it struck ground, and the Captain ordered the men to get into the water so as to lighten the load, and tow the boat ashore. Only half of the distance, however, had been traversed when it was found to be impossible to bring the boat nearer, and so they collected the food, arms, ammunition, and papers, and waded ashore.
Having rested for two days, the party started southward, each man carrying heavy burdens, though all but the most important articles had been abandoned. In the first ten days' march the travellers made no more than twenty miles, so difficult was the country; but during those days they enjoyed the luxury of a meal of deer's flesh, which, but for the crippled condition of several of the men, would have put new life into the whole party.
Then Captain De Long determined to send Ninderman and Noros ahead, for they were in better condition than any others of the party, and when they left on their perilous mission they bade a sad farewell to a gallant yet almost hopeless band of men, whom no one ever saw again until, nearly six months later, Mr. Melville found their dead bodies.
"The Captain," says Noros, "read divine service before we left. All the men shook hands with us, and Collins, as if knowing that their doom was sealed, said, simply, 'Noros, when you get to New York, remember me.' They seemed to have lost hope, but as we left, they gave us three cheers. That was the last we saw of them."
Wholly without food, for the supply they had saved from the boat was exhausted, and the fresh meat which had been procured was soon consumed, the two brave seamen pushed on. They supported life by chewing their leather moccasins and breeches, and after a few days they came upon two deserted huts, in which they found some mouldy fish, which they ate with relish. Here in these huts they rested for three days, when a native found them; but they were unable to make him understand that they had left eleven starving comrades behind.