PREPARING FOR WINTER AT CAPE SHERIDAN--THE ARCTIC LIBRARY
Now that we had reached Cape Sheridan in the ship, every one's spirits
seemed to soar. It was still daylight, with the sun above the horizon,
and although two parties had been landed for hunting, no one seemed to
be in any particular hurry. The weather was cold but calm, and even in
the rush of unloading the ship I often heard the hum of songs, and had
it not been for the fur-jacketed men who were doing the work, it would
not have been difficult for me to imagine myself in a much warmer
climate.
Of course! in accordance with my agreement with some other members of
this expedition I kept my eye on the Commander, and although it was not
usual for him to break forth into song, I frequently heard him humming
a popular air, and I knew that for the present all was well with him.
With the ship lightened, by being unloaded, to a large extent, of all of
the stores, she did not very appreciably rise, but the Commander and the
Captain agreed that she could be safely worked considerably closer to
the shore, inside of the tide-crack possibly; and the _Roosevelt_ was
made fast to the ice-foot of the land, with a very considerable distance
between her and open water. Her head was pointed due north, and affairs
aboard her assumed regulation routine. The stores ashore were
contracted, and work on getting them into shape for building temporary
houses was soon under way. The boxes of provisions themselves formed the
walls, and the roofing was made from makeshifts such as sails,
overturned whale-boats, and rocks; and had the ship got adrift and been
lost, the houses on shore would have proved ample and comfortable for
housing the expedition.
A ship, and a good one like the _Roosevelt_, is the prime necessity in
getting an expedition within striking distance of the Pole, but once
here the ship (and no other boat, but the _Roosevelt_ could get here)
is not indispensable, and accordingly all precautions against her loss
were taken.
It is a fact that Arctic expeditions have lost their ships early in the
season and in spite of the loss have done successful work. The last
Ziegler Polar Expedition of 1903-1905 is an example. In the ship
_America_ they reached Crown Prince Rudolph Island on the European
route, and shortly after landing, in the beginning of the long night,
the _America_ went adrift, and has never been seen since. It is not
difficult to imagine her still drifting in the lonely Arctic Ocean, with
not a soul aboard (a modern phantom ship in a sea of eternal ice). A
more likely idea is that she has been crushed by the ice, and sunk, and
the skeleton of her hulk strewn along the bottom of the sea, full many a
fathom deep.
* * * * *
However, the depressing probabilities of the venture we are on are not
permitted to worry us. The _Roosevelt_ is a "Homer" and we confidently
expect to have her take us back to home and loved ones.
In the meantime, I have a steady job carpentering, also interpreting,
barbering, tailoring, dog-training, and chasing Esquimos out of my
quarters. The Esquimos have the run of the ship and get everywhere
except into the Commander's cabin, which they have been taught to regard
as "The Holy of Holies." With the help of a sign which tersely proclaims
"No Admittance," painted on a board and nailed over the door, they are
without much difficulty restrained from going in.
The Commander's stateroom is a _state_ room. He has a piano in there and
a photograph of President Roosevelt; and right next door he has a
private bath-room with a bath-tub in it. The bath-tub is chock-full of
impedimenta of a much solider quality than water, but it is to be
cleared out pretty soon, and every morning the Commander is going to
have his cold-plunge, if there is enough hot water.
There is a general rule that every member of the expedition, including
the sailors, must take a bath at least once a week, and it is wonderful
how contagious bathing is. Even the Esquimos catch it, and frequently
Charley has to interrupt the upward development of some ambitious
native, who has suddenly perceived the need of ablutions, and has
started to scrub himself in the water that is intended for cooking
purposes. If the husky has not gone too far, the water is not wasted,
and our stew is all the more savory.
On board ship there was quite an extensive library, especially on Arctic
and Antarctic topics, but as it was in the Commander's cabin it was not
heavily patronized. In my own cabin I had Dickens' "Bleak House,"
Kipling's "Barrack Room Ballads," and the poems of Thomas Hood; also a
copy of the Holy Bible, which had been given to me by a dear old lady in
Brooklyn, N. Y. I also had Peary's books, "Northward Over the Great
Ice," and his last work "Nearest the Pole." During the long dreary
midnights of the Arctic winter, I spent many a pleasant hour with my
books. I also took along with me a calendar for the years 1908 and 1909,
for in the regions of noonday darkness and midnight daylight, a calendar
is absolutely necessary.
But mostly I had rougher things than reading to do.