returning to our retreat, I
saw his stick on the opposite side of a crevasse about three fathoms
wide, where the ice was all broken. I shouted, but there was no
answer. At that time the wind was blowing very hard. I searched all
around, but I could find no trace of the poor lieutenant."

"And what do you suppose became of him?" asked the doctor, who was
much moved by this account.

[Illustration]

"I suppose that when he left the shelter, the wind drove him into the
crevasse, and that, being thickly clad, he could not swim to the
surface. O Dr. Clawbonny, I never felt worse in my life! I could not
believe it! That brave officer fell a victim to his sense of duty! For
you know that it was in order to obey Captain Pullen's instructions
that he was trying to reach the land before the ice began to break! He
was a brave man, liked by every one, faithful, courageous! All England
mourned him, and even the Esquimaux, when they heard of his death from
Captain Inglefield, when he returned from Pound Bay, did nothing but
weep and repeat, 'Poor Bellot! Poor Bellot!'"

[Illustration]

"But you and your companions, Johnson," asked the doctor, much moved
by this touching account,--"how did you manage to get to shore?"

"O, it was very simple! We remained twenty-four hours on the ice
without food or fire, but finally we reached a firmly fastened
ice-field; we sprang upon it, and with an oar we got near a floe
capable of supporting us, and being controlled like a boat. In that
way we reached the shore, but alone, without our brave officer."

At the end of this account the _Forward_ had passed by this fatal
shore, and Johnson soon lost sight of the scene of this terrible
catastrophe. The next day they left Griffin's Bay on the starboard,
and two days later, Capes Grinnell and Helpman; finally, July 14th,
they doubled Osborne Point, and the 15th the brig anchored in Baring
Bay at the end of the channel. The navigation had not been very
difficult; Hatteras found a sea nearly as free as that by which
Belcher profited to go and winter with the _Pioneer_ and _Assistance_
in latitude 77 degrees. That was his first winter, 1852-53, for the
next he spent in Baring Bay, where the _Forward_ now lay at anchor.

It was in consequence of the most terrible dangers and trials that he
was obliged to abandon the _Assistance_ in the midst of the eternal
ice.

Shandon gave a full account of this catastrophe to the demoralized
sailors. Was Hatte