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Sometimes when the men fell they were unable to get up. It was evident there was no more in them that day. In his ice-journal for that date Bennett wrote: "... Two miles covered by 4 p.m. The ice still hummocky. At this rate we shall be on half rations long before we reach Wrangel Island. No observation possible since day before yesterday on account of snow and clouds.
They lost all consciousness of the lapse of time; sensation even of suffering left them; the very hunger itself had ceased to gnaw. Only Bennett and Ferriss seemed to keep their heads. Then slowly the end began. For that last week Bennett's entries in his ice-journal were as follows: "November 29th Monday Camped at 4:30 p.m. about 100 yards from the coast.
"It was a hard week," he informed her, "a rather bad grind." Now, for the first time, she was to know just what had happened, just what he had endured. As usual, Bennett paced the floor from wall to wall, his cigar in his teeth, his tattered, grimy ice-journal in his hand. At the desk Lloyd's round, bare arm, the sleeve turned up to the elbow, moved evenly back and forth as she wrote.
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.
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