"Now, when all these distributions had been happily accomplished, and I crawled in from the wet, and cold, and disorder of without, through a slit in the India-rubber cloth, to the very centre of my complicated resources, it would be hard for any one to realize the quantity of comfort which I felt I had manufactured. My lamp burned brightly; little or no water distilled from the roof; my furs warmed me into satisfaction; and I realized that I was sweating myself out of my preliminary cold, and could temper down at pleasure the abruptness of my acclimation." The expedition progressed northward without special incident until the 8th of July, when, having passed Uppernavik, "the jumping-off place of Arctic navigators," the two vessels became locked fast in the ice. Then began a heart-breaking task of warping through the pack with ice-anchor, cable and winch. It was "all hands" at this heave and haul, from captain to cook, and the doctor too. "We were twenty-one days thus imprisoned, never leaving a little circle of some six miles radius." Then they struck open water-leads, and made fair progress for sailing vessels under such circumstances, but "how often when retarded by baffling winds or unfavorable leads, have I wished for a few hours of steam!" On August 18th they passed the ice barrier of Baffin Bay, and bore away southwesterly towards Lancaster Sound, in more open water than they had seen for weeks. Several British rescue squadrons were known to be somewhere in these waters, including a number of steamers, but De Haven and his associates were ignorant of their course and intended scheme of search. "We had dreamed before this, and pleasantly enough, of fellowship with them in our efforts, dividing between us the hazards of the way, and perhaps in the long winter holding with them the cheery intercourse of kindred sympathies. We waked now to the probabilities of passing the dark days alone. Yet fairly on the way, an energetic commander, a united ship's company, the wind freshening, our well-tried little ice-boat now groping her way like a blind man through fog and bergs, and now dashing on as if reckless of all but success--it was impossible to repress a sentiment almost akin to the so-called joyous excitement of conflict. "We were bidding good-by to 'ye goode baye of old William Baffin'; and as we looked round with a farewell remembrance upon the still water, the diminished icebergs, and the constant sun which had served us so long and faithfully, we felt that the Bay had used us kindly."