promised them. As it snowed incessantly for two hours after, all hopes of seeing them alive were given up; but, about midnight, to the great joy of the party, a shouting was heard at some distance from the fire. Mr. Banks and four others proceeded in the direction of the sound, and found the seaman almost exhausted. He was speedily brought to the fire, and by his direction the other two were found soon after. Richmond was still on his legs, but unable to walk; his companion lay senseless on the ground. All hands were called from the fire, and a simultaneous effort was made to carry them thither; but the task was found altogether hopeless, owing to the difficulties of the way, the darkness of the night, and the exhausted state of the party. An attempt to kindle a fire on the spot proved equally abortive, owing to the quantity of snow that had fallen, and was still falling. Mr. Banks and the party, after placing them under the shelter of some boughs of trees, were forced to leave them for the night; some more of their number, particularly Briscoe, another of Mr. Banks's servants, now beginning to be attacked with torpor. With much difficulty they regained the fire, from which they had been absent an hour and a half. The rest of the night was spent in misery and terror, in gloomy reflections on the fate of their companions, and dreadful anxiety respecting their own. The dawn of morning brought small relief; nothing but snow appeared on every side, and the snow blasts had scarcely abated in their frequency or their fury. About six, the clouds became less dense, and the place of the sun could be discerned through them. Three of the company were despatched as soon as possible, to look after the poor wretches who were
