"Every now and then I threw myself flat on the sledge, there keeping myself well to the leeward of Captain B and the excellent dog-driver Charley. I then, with face upturned, could see the workings of the Almighty in the heavens above. The aurora was spanning the blue vault, painting in beauteous colours that part of the sky which seemingly overhung the ever-to-be-remembered spot where we had bid adieu to the remains of our friend, John Brown.
"What think you, my friends, were my thoughts, as I lay with my eyes looking above—the glory of God's creation shining upon me—as I was swiftly carried along, with the consciousness in my breast of having performed, on this holy day, simply my duty—the duty of man to man?
"As we neared the vessel, groups of anxious friends came out to meet us. How they peered among our number—all four of us upon the sledge—to see if John Brown was among our company! None of us could speak. It was like a funeral train.
"A voice from one, trembling between hope and fear, asked, as we drove alongside the George Henry, 'Tell us, did you find him?' 'Yes,' I replied. 'Was he dead?' continued the same voice. 'You have it; alas! it is too true,' was my answer.
"Now the terrible news flew from one to another—from forecastle to steerage, all exclaiming, 'How sad—how terrible an end!'
"Having partaken of refreshments, and exchanged my native skin-dress—which was wringing wet with my profuse perspiration of the day—for my civilization clothes, which I wear only when about the ship, I had to relate all the incidents connected with my search to the company around.
"I was sorry to find every one who had been out engaging actively in the search completely used up. The three from whom I parted a little after 2 p.m. did not get to the vessel until near six.
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