Free Across Frozen Seas by John Wilson Page B

the symbol of our endeavor. How could we fail with him at the helm? Now he is gone and we have yet another grave to dig. Although I only met him twice, his death only adds to my almost overwhelming sense of loneliness.

    It is one of the few days recently when the cursed wind is not blowing through our bones. It has droppedto a gentle breeze, but still we huddle in the lee of the sled to hide from it. There are nine of us scattered around a small fire which engulfs the last fragments of our supply boxes. The fire is precious, for there is no wood in this land, yet the circumstances warrant it. Eight of us are a sledging party from
Erebus.
    George sits beside me. We are led by Captain Fitzjames who, since Sir John’s death, is now second in command below Mister Crozier. Our aim is to meet with the
Terror
party under Mister Little. The ninth member of our sad circle is Henry Sait of that party. He sits across the fire from me. His cheeks are hollow and his eyes sunken and glazed. He is barely able to keep upright.
    We have been out for three days now. This morning Mister Fitzjames, who was out in front, shouted that he had spotted something. It soon resolved into the emaciated figure of Sait. He was staggering all over and, when we brought him in, incapable of recognizing any of us. He was mumbling incoherently and looked close to death. It is for him we have built the fire. Its warmth, and some biscuits and brandy, have revived him somewhat. We are all eager to hear his story, although none of us think it will be to our liking. We lean forward expectantly as Sait tells his tale.
    â€œAt first we made good time,” he begins hesitantly. “Of course, we were disappointed not to be completing the passage, but we made light of it and joked of what we might find on our side of the island. The land was bleak and flat and the jagged rocks which make up the beaches hereabouts made walking on the land difficult.We found the going much easier on the sea ice where it was flat, close in to the coast. The only trouble we had was in traversing a long inlet which was packed with a jumbled mass of ice. It was tiring work and it took us two days to cover only ten miles. Mister Little named the inlet Hardwork Cove.”
    Sait’s eyes lift to the horizon and he drifts off into some private reverie until Mister Fitzjames nudges him. Sait sips some tea and continues.
    â€œThere were some large islands offshore, which we took time to explore, but were of little interest. The coast continued southeast and the weather remained fair although the ice was becoming rougher and we had to go ashore frequently to pass open patches of water.
    â€œAfter we crossed a large peninsula, our route turned southwest and we all felt we would soon be heading back up to the ships. We had reached our most southerly point when we were faced with a wide lead of open water. Since beach travel was so hard and as there was a collection of small islets offshore, Mister Little decided that we should head that way, examine the islets and try to pass the lead on the seaward side.
    â€œWe had barely gone halfway when a crack opened in the ice beneath us and the sled began to be drawn into the icy water. I was at the front and so I threw off the harness, but the rest of the men were pulled in. All managed to scramble onto the ice, but soaked to the skin and with no supplies, our predicament was severe.”
    Sait hesitates again as if drawing strength to tell the rest of his tale.

    â€œWe made camp on the closest island in a makeshift shelter of rocks and snow. That night, Mister Little, who had spent a considerable time in the freezing water trying to help men out and save some supplies, died. We buried him in the morning as best we could. Before we had finished, the wind was up and it was beginning to snow.
    â€œIt was not much of a storm, but it trapped us for five days. Five others died before the wind eased and Mister Thomas and myself could