Winter came again under depressing circumstances.  The first relief ship promised had not arrived, and the disappointment of the men deepened into apprehension lest the second, also, should fail them.  Yet they went through the second winter in good health and unshaken morale, though one can not read such portions of Greely’s diary as he has published, without seeing that the irritability and jealousy that seem to be the inevitable accompaniments of long imprisonment in an Arctic station, began to make their appearance.  With the advent of spring the commander began to make his preparations for a retreat to the southward.  If he had not then felt entire confidence in the promise of the War Department to relieve him without fail that summer, he would have begun his retreat early, and beyond doubt have brought all his men to safety before another winter set in or his provisions fell low.  But as it was, he put off the start to the last moment, keeping up meanwhile the scientific work of the expedition, and sending out one party to cache supplies along the route of retreat.  August 9, 1883, the march began—­just two years after they had entered the frozen deep—­Greely hoping to meet the relief ship oh the way.  He did not know that three weeks before she had been nipped in the ice-pack, and sunk, and that her consort, the “Yantic,” had gone impotently home, without even leaving food for the abandoned explorers.  Over ice-fields and across icy and turbulent water, the party made its way for five hundred miles—­four hundred miles of boating and one hundred of sledging—­fifty-one days of heroic exertion that might well take the courage out of the stoutest heart.  Sledging in the Arctic over “hummock” ice is, perhaps, the most wearing form of toil known to man, and with such heavy loads as Greely carried, every mile had to be gone over twice, and sometimes three times, as the men would be compelled to leave part of the load behind and go back after it.  Yet the party was cheerful, singing and joking at their work, as one of the sergeants records.  Finally they reached the vicinity of Cape Sabine, all in good health, with instruments and records saved, and with arms and ammunition enough to procure ample food in a land well stocked with game.  But they did not worry very much about food, though their supply was by this time growing low.  Was not Cape Sabine the spot at which the relief expeditions were to cache food, and could it be possible that the great United States Government would fail twice in an enterprise which any Yankee whaler would gladly take a contract to fulfill?  And so the men looked upon the wilderness, and noted the coming on of the Arctic night again without fear, if with some disappointment.  Less than forty days’ rations remained.  Eight months must elapse before any relief expedition could reach their camp, and far away in the United States the people were crying out in hot indignation that the authorities were basely leaving Greely and his devoted companions to their fate.