The next day they rested and debated what was the best course to adopt to obtain help, for it was outside of their power to drag the sledges any farther. Porter was almost at death's door, and unless help came very soon several more would be in a similar condition. Lieutenant Parr was the strongest, but even he was in a very low condition. That, however, did not rob him of his courage, nor of his readiness to give the rest of his life, if necessary, for the rescue of his comrades. He volunteered to set out alone for the ship, to carry word of the terrible plight of the party and the need for instant relief. It was almost a hopeless task, and the heavy hearts of the stricken men, beating more hopefully at the token of such manly bravery, drooped again as they remembered the dreary miles of snow and ice which would have to be covered, and saw the weakened state of their would-be rescuer's strength. But he was not to be gainsaid; weak as he was, he was yet the strongest of the party, and he would make the attempt. On June 7 he started, the little band watching him as he trudged bravely away, giving him as hearty a cheer as they could. Slowly he made his way over the frozen shore, and, when he had passed out of sight, the men looked at one another and wondered. How far would he get before death overtook him? How long before they all yielded to the same conqueror? By the next morning one had already gone, Porter passing away after nearly two months' fighting against the scourge. Commander Markham, and the four who were alone able to help him, paid the last honours to their deceased comrade. The British ensign was lowered to half-mast on the pole of the big sledge and a Union Jack was carefully wrapped round the body. With great exertion, in their emaciated condition, a place was hollowed out in the frozen soil, and there they placed him, the funeral service being read by Commander Markham, who, in his diary, thus wrote of the ceremony: "Of all the melancholy and mournful duties I have ever been called upon to perform, this has been the saddest. A death in a small party like ours, and under the present circumstances, is a most depressing event, and is keenly felt by all. During the service all were more or less affected, and many to tears." A rude cross was fashioned out of a boat's oar and a spare sledge batten, and it was placed at the head of the grave with the following inscription: "Beneath this cross lie buried the remains of GEORGE PORTER, R.M.A., who died June 8, 1876. 'Thy will be done!'"