After a while he returned to the tent, awoke the cook, and while
breakfast was being prepared completed his calculations for latitude,
wrote up his ice-journal, and noted down the temperature and the
direction and velocity of the wind. As he was finishing, Richard
Ferriss, who was the chief engineer and second in command, awoke and
immediately asked the latitude.

"Seventy-four-fifteen," answered Bennett without looking up.

"Seventy-four-fifteen," repeated Ferriss, nodding his head; "we didn't
make much distance yesterday."

"I hope we can make as much to-day," returned Bennett grimly as he put
away his observation-journal and note-books.

"How's the ice to the south'ard?"

"Bad; wake the men."

After breakfast and while the McClintocks were being loaded Bennett sent
Ferriss on ahead to choose a road through and over the ridges. It was
dreadful work. For two hours Ferriss wandered about amid the broken ice
all but hopelessly bewildered. But at length, to his great satisfaction,
he beheld a fairly open stretch about a quarter of a mile in length
lying out to the southwest and not too far out of the expedition's line
of march. Some dozen ridges would have to be crossed before this level
was reached; but there was no help for it, so Ferriss planted his flags
where the heaps of ice-blocks seemed least impracticable and returned
toward the camp. It had already been broken, and on his way he met the
entire expedition involved in the intricacies of the first rough ice.