Day 47 – 27th of May?

I had thought that our lot was miserable in the igloo on the floe. But now Jenkins is dead and the ice is breaking up. I collapsed his sleeping bag over him, when he failed to rise, and I loaded as many of our supplies as I could onto the sledge we’ve dragged south from where the Resolute wend down in the ice. It was not a proper raft, and much was lost, but at least I didn’t go into the drink. And my papers are still dry, and my ink, for what it’s worth. Unless Washington’s sledge has had better luck, I may be the last of our party still above the waves.

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