m, and I
accompanied them, but the men's hearts were not in the work, and nothing
was found. Another will be formed within a few hours. I can hardly
believe I have not been dreaming, or suffering from some hideous
nightmare, as I write these things down.

7.30 P.M.--Just returned dead beat and utterly tired out from a second
unsuccessful search for the Captain. The floe is of enormous extent, for
though we have traversed at least twenty miles of its surface, there has
been no sign of its coming to an end. The frost has been so severe of
late that the overlying snow is frozen as hard as granite, otherwise we
might have had the footsteps to guide us. The crew are anxious that we
should cast off and steam round the floe and so to the southward, for
the ice has opened up during the night, and the sea is visible upon the
horizon. They argue that Captain Craigie is certainly dead, and that
we are all risking our lives to no purpose by remaining when we have an
opportunity of escape. Mr. Milne and I have had the greatest difficulty
in persuading them to wait until to-morrow night, and have been
compelled to promise that we will not under any circumstances delay our
departure longer than that. We propose therefore to take a few hours'
sleep, and then to start upon a final search.

September 20th, evening.--I crossed the ice this morning with a party of
men exploring the southern part of the floe, while Mr. Milne went off
in a northerly direction. We pushed on for ten or twelve miles without
seeing a trace of any living thing except a single bird, which fluttered
a great way over our heads, and which by its flight I should judge to
have been a falcon. The southern extremity of the ice field tapered away
into a long narrow spit which projected out into the sea. When we came
to the base of this promontory, the men halted, but I begged them to
continue to the extreme end of it, that we might have the satisfaction
of knowing that no possible chance had been neglected.

We had hardly gone a hundred yards before M'Donald of Peterhead cried
out that he saw something in front of us, and began to run. We all got a
glimpse of it and ran too. At first it was only a vague darkness against
the white ice, but as we raced along together it took the shape of a
man, and eventually of the man of whom we were in search. He was lying
face downwards upon a frozen bank. Many little crystals of ice and
feathers of snow had drifted on to him as he la