Fortunately he succeeds in preventing it, but there was a slim margin. It has drizzled or rained, besides the wind, most of the afternoon, and there is a lot of spray to splashes from the waves. All this has to be taken as it comes, but the water is not cold, and our boots and oilskins give protection. Nevertheless my right knee to hip gets thoroughly wet and chilly, and I was not alone. But there is little time to think of such things. We see at Teller the waves breaking high on the shore, some boats already on the beach and others being driven there, a few people looking helplessly on. About 5.50 we round the Teller spit and come in the lee of it into calmer water. But the visibility over the water is probably not over a mile now, and we see no trace of the _Bear_. The gasoline supply is getting rather low; and all are more or less cold, though dressed warmer than I and, due to their hip-high rubber boots--mine reach only to the knee--not wet. I now shake a lot with the cold, without being able to stop it. So we skirt the protecting bluffs southward to where everyone thinks the _Bear_ is, near a little stream from which they were to take fresh water. But though we all strain our eyes to the limit, there is no trace of the ship. Thus reach Cape Riley and the stream, which is found dry, without a drop of water. Get on the pebbly beach, turn skin boat over to get the water out, and hurry to chop wood. No wood save the water troughs, so chop these. Must have fire. I warm up a little by running around and chopping. They pour gasoline on the wood, make a big fire, cook a pot of coffee, and with bread and preserved meat make a supper, though it is mainly coffee. Near 8 and getting dark. Storm, outside of protection of cliffs, unabated. There is a second watering place, 7 or 8 miles across the bay, and our only chance to find the _Bear_ is to rush for this. But to do this we must go diagonally across the waves and similarly against the wind--a bad prospect. Also, we have only just about enough gasoline to reach the place. But there is no help. Thus a new start, and before long we are once more in the waves. It is now quite obscure. The waves break now and then and splash over us. Before long the skin boat is again sagging and in danger of sinking. Once more pull alongside and dangerous, exhausting bailing by Weenie. And so on, tossed, driven aside, but thanks to the good engine never stopping. I hold to seat not to be thrown against things or even out; the others are becoming gruff, irritable. And then Higsby makes out a faint light far ahead. No one certain, but in a while it seems moving. A solitary small light somewhere far on the shore, probably, not the boat. But soon another stronger light discerned, seemingly moving to the left, and later several--the ship in all probability.