CHAPTER VIII.
LAUNCH OF THE BOAT.
Friday, June 23, 1865.—It is now more than two months since I wrote, and anticipated being away in three days, but 'man proposes and God disposes.' Since that time we have had our greatest trials and difficulties to contend with. In the first place, when we got an opportunity of putting the plank on to the boat, we found that it would not stand bending, although well steamed. We were then obliged to almost remodel the boat entirely, and cut planks out of the bush, which, with our saw, which required sharpening every half-hour, was an exceedingly tedious operation. In the next place, everything was buried in snow for three weeks; then followed heavy rains and continued wet stormy weather up to the present time, in which we, and myself in particular, persisted in working; and we were all seized with a violent attack of dysentery about the same time. This we have all recovered from; but I am left with rheumatic pains and cramps, which will in all probability cling to me through life. This is not to be wondered at. I am very much surprised that I have stood it at all, for my clothing is in a most wretched and deplorable state. It is useless for me to describe it—it is a complete bundle of rags; and by adding to these troubles grim starvation, which all along has been gnawing at our bowels, we have a summary of our calamities, the details of which would be sickening. But, thank God! we are now in reality on the point of surmounting or ending our wretchedness and misery.
The boat is finished, rigged, sails bent, and ready for launching; but the weather is at present so dreadfully bad
