OFF FOR THE POLE--HOW THE OTHER EXPLORERS LOOKED--THE LAMB-LIKE
ESQUIMOS--ARRIVAL AT ETAH
July 6, 1908: We're off! For a year and a half I have waited for this
order, and now we have cast off. The shouting and the tumult ceases, the
din of whistles, bells, and throats dies out, and once again the long,
slow surge of the ocean hits the good ship that we have embarked in. It
was at one-thirty P. M. to-day that I saw the last hawse-line cast
adrift, and felt the throb of the engines of our own ship. Chief
Wardwell is on the job, and from now on it is due north.
Oyster Bay, Long Island Sound: We are expecting President Roosevelt. The
ship has been named in his honor and has already made one voyage towards
the North Pole, farther north than any ship has ever made.
July 7: At anchor, the soft wooded hills of Long Island give me a
curious impression. I am waiting for the command to attack the savage
ice- and rock-bound fortress of the North, and here instead we are at
anchor in the neighborhood of sheep grazing in green fields.
Sydney, N. S., July 17, 1908: All of the expedition are aboard and those
going home have gone. Mrs. Peary and the children, Mr. Borup's father,
and Mr. Harry Whitney, and some other guests were the last to leave the
_Roosevelt_, and have given us a last good-by from the tug, which came
alongside to take them off.
Good-by all. Every one is sending back a word to some one he has left
behind, but I have said my good-bys a long time ago, and as I waved my
hand in parting salutation to the little group on the deck of the tug,
my thoughts were with my wife, and I hoped when she next heard of me it
would be with feelings of joy and happiness, and that she would be glad
she had permitted me to leave her for an absence that might never end.
The tenderfeet, as the Commander calls them, are the Doctor, Professor
MacMillan, and young Mr. Borup. The Doctor is a fine-looking, big
fellow, John W. Goodsell, and has a swarthy complexion and straight
hair; on meeting me he told me that he was well acquainted with me by
reputation, and hoped to know me more intimately.
Professor Donald B. MacMillan is a professor in a college in
Massachusetts, near Worcester, and I am going to cultivate his
acquaintance.
Mr. George Borup is the kid, only twenty-one years old but well set up
for his age, always ready to laugh, and has thick, curly hair. I
understand he is a record-breaker in athletics. He will need his
athletic ability on this trip. I am making no judgments or comments on
these fellows now. Wait; I have seen too many enthusiastic starters, and
I am sorry to say some of them did not finish well.
All of the rest of the members of the expedition are the same as were on
the first trip of the _Roosevelt_:--Commander Peary, Captain Bartlett,
Professor Marvin, Chief Engineer Wardwell, Charley Percy the steward,
and myself. The crew has been selected by Captain Bartlett, and are
mostly strangers to me.
Commander Peary is too well known for me to describe him at length;
thick reddish hair turning gray; heavy, bushy eyebrows shading his
"sharpshooter's eyes" of steel gray, and long mustache. His hair grows
rapidly and, when on the march, a thick heavy beard quickly appears. He
is six feet tall, very graceful, and well built, especially about the
chest and shoulders; long arms, and legs slightly bowed. Since losing
his toes, he walks with a peculiar slide-like stride. He has a voice
clear and loud, and words never fail him.
Captain Bartlett is about my height and weight. He has short, curly,
light-brown hair and red cheeks; is slightly round-shouldered, due to
the large shoulder-muscles caused by pulling the oars, and is as quick
in his actions as a cat. His manner and conduct indicate that he has
always been the leader of his crowd from boyhood up, and there is no man
on this ship that he would be afraid to tackle. He is a young man
(thirty-three years old) for a ship captain, but he knows his job.
Professor Marvin is a quiet, earnest person, and has had plenty of
practical experience besides his splendid education. He is rapidly
growing bald; his face is rather thin, and his neck is long. He has
taken great interest in me and, being a teacher, has tried to teach me.
Although I hope to perfect myself in navigation, my knowledge so far
consists only of knot and splice seamanship, and I need to master the
mathematical end.
The Chief Engineer, Mr. Wardwell, is a fine-looking, ruddy-complexioned
giant, with the most honest eyes I have ever looked into. His hair is
thinning and is almost pure white, and I should judge him to be about
forty-five years old. He has the greatest patience, and I have never
seen him lose his temper or get rattled.
Charley Percy is Commander Peary's oldest hand, next to me. He is our
steward, and sees to it that we are properly fed while aboard ship, and
he certainly does see to it with credit to himself.
From Sydney to Hawks Harbor, where we met the _Erik_, has been
uneventful except for the odor of the _Erik_, which is loaded with
whale-meat and can be smelled for miles. We passed St. Paul's Island and
Cape St. George early in the day and through the Straits of Belle Isle
to Hawks Harbor, where there is a whale-factory. From here we leave for
Turnavik.
We have been racing with the _Erik_ all day, and have beaten her to this
place. Captain Bartlett's father owns it, and we loaded a lot of boots
and skins, which the Captain's father had ready for us. From here we
sail to the Esquimo country of North Greenland, without a stop if
possible, as the Commander has no intention of visiting any of the
Danish settlements in South Greenland.
Cape York is our next point, and the ship is sailing free. Aside from
the excitement of the start, and the honor of receiving the personal
visit of the President, and his words of encouragement and cheer, the
trip so far has been uneventful; and I have busied myself in putting my
cabin in order, and making myself useful in overhauling and stowing
provisions in the afterhold.
July 24: Still northward-bound, with the sea rolling and washing over
the ship; and the _Erik_ in the distance seems to be getting her share
of the wash. She is loaded heavily with fresh whale-meat, and is
purposely keeping in leeward of us to spare us the discomfort of the
odor.
July 25 and 26: Busy with my carpenter's kit in the Commander's cabin
and elsewhere. There has been heavy rain and seas, and we have dropped
the _Erik_ completely. The _Roosevelt_ is going fine. We can see the
Greenland coast plainly and to-day, the 29th, we raised and passed Disco
Island. Icebergs on all sides. The light at midnight is almost as bright
as early evening twilight in New York on the Fourth of July and the
ice-blink of the interior ice-cap is quite plain. We have gone through
Baffin's Bay with a rush and raised Duck Island about ten A. M. and
passed and dropped it by two P. M.
I was ashore on Duck Island in 1891, on my first voyage north, and I
remember distinctly the cairn the party built and the money they
deposited in it. I wonder if it is still there? There is little use for
money up here, and the place is seldom visited except by men from the
whalers, when their ships are locked in by ice.
From here it is two hundred miles due north to Cape York.
August 1: Arrived at Cape York Bay and went ashore with the party to
communicate with the Esquimos of whom there were three families. They
remembered us and were dancing up and down the shore, and waving to us
in welcome, and as soon as the bow of the boat had grazed the little
beach, willing hands helped to run her up on shore. These people are
hospitable and helpful, and always willing, sometimes too willing. As an
example, I will tell how, at a settlement farther north, we were going
ashore in one of the whale-boats. Captain Bartlett was forward,
astraddle of the bow with the boat-hook in his hands to fend off the
blocks of ice, and knew perfectly well where he wanted to land, but the
group of excited Esquimos were in his way and though he ordered them
back, they continued running about and getting in his way. In a very
short while the Captain lost patience and commenced to talk loudly and
with excitement; immediately Sipsoo took up his language and parrot-like
started to repeat the Captain's exact words: "Get back there, get
back--how in ---- do you expect me to make a landing?" And thus does the
innocent lamb of the North acquire a civilized tongue.
It is amusing to hear Kudlooktoo in the most charming manner give
Charley a cussing that from any one else would cause Charley to break
his head open.
For the last week I have been busy, with "Matt! The Commander wants
you," "Matt do this," and "Matt do that," and with going ashore and
trading for skins, dogs, lines, and other things; and also
walrus-hunting. I have been up to my neck in work, and have had small
opportunity to keep my diary up to date. We have all put on heavy
clothing; not the regular fur clothes for the winter, but our thickest
civilized clothing, that we would wear in midwinter in the States. In
the middle of the day, if the sun shines, the heat is felt; but if foggy
or cloudy, the heavy clothing is comfortable.
All of the Esquimos want to come aboard and stay aboard. Some we want
and will take along, but there are others we will not have or take along
on a bet, and the pleasant duty of telling them so and putting them
ashore falls to me. It is not a pleasant job to disappoint these people,
but they would be a burden to us and in our way. Besides, we have left
them a plentiful supply of needfuls, and our trading with them has been
fair and generous.
The "Crow's-Nest" has been rigged upon the mainmast, and this morning,
after breakfast, Mr. Whitney, three Esquimos, and myself started in Mr.
Whitney's motor-boat to hunt walrus. The motor gave out very shortly
after the start, and the oars had to be used. We were fortunate in
getting two walrus, which I shot, and then we returned to the ship for
the whale-boat. We left the ship with three more Esquimos in the
whale-boat, and got four more walrus.
Sunday, at Kangerdlooksoah; the land of the reindeer, and the one
pleasant appearing spot on this coast. Mr. Whitney and his six Esquimo
guides have gone hunting for deer, and I have been ashore to trade for
dogs and furs, and have gotten twenty-seven dogs, sealskin-lines for
lashings, a big bearskin, and some foxskins. I try to get furskins from
animals that were killed when in full fur and before they have started
to shed, but some of the skins I have traded in are raw, and will have
to be dried.
I have had the disagreeable job of putting the undesirable ashore, and
it was like handling a lot of sulky school children.
Seegloo, the dog-owner, is invited to bring his pack aboard and is
easily persuaded. He will get a Springfield rifle and loading-outfit and
also a Winchester, if he will sell, and he is more than willing.
And this is the story of day after day from Cape York to Etah Harbor,
which we reached on August 12.