“The Pole at last. The prize of three centuries. My dream and goal for twenty years. Mine at last! I cannot bring myself to realize it. It seems all so simple and commonplace!”
Yet, here he was, and he shook hands with all the Eskimos, who seemed to be childishly pleased at the feat which they had accomplished. Again they gave “three times three,” with a vim, for the North Pole.
The Commander had good reason to be delighted, for, as he says: “For more than a score of years that point on the earth’s surface had been the object of my every effort. To its attainment my whole being, physical, mental and moral, had been dedicated. Many times my own life and the lives of those with me had been risked. My own material and forces and those of my friends had been devoted to this object. This journey was my eighth into the Arctic wilderness. In that wilderness I had spent nearly twelve years out of the twenty-three between my thirtieth and my fifty-third year, and the intervening time spent in civilized communities during that period had been mainly occupied with preparations for returning to the wilderness. The determination to reach the Pole had become so much a part of my being, that, strange as it may seem, I long ago ceased to think of myself, save as an instrument for the attainment of that end. To the layman this may seem strange, but an inventor can understand it, or an artist, or any one who has devoted himself for years upon years to the service of an idea.”
At about four o’clock on the afternoon of April 7th., the explorers turned their backs on the Pole, leaving with a sense of sadness, for this was certainly a scene which their “eye would never see again.” The journey home was fraught with danger. Would they make it?
The extraordinary speed which they had made in reaching the Pole was exceeded in the journey home. In sixteen days Cape Columbia had been reached, for the dogs were good ones, and they averaged twenty-six miles of travel a day. On April the 23rd., Peary entered his “igloo,” or ice-house, at “Crane City,” Cape Columbia.
In one march of forty-five miles, Cape Hecla was reached, and the Roosevelt in another of equal length. The Commander’s heart thrilled, as, rounding the point of the cape, he saw the little black ship lying there in her icy berth, with her sturdy nose pointing straight to the Pole. His dreadful trip was over and Victory perched upon the masts of the intrepid vessel.
The ship was soon made ready for the homeward voyage. In ten days’ time she was prepared to sail, and, on July 18th., with only the tragic memory of the lost and lamented Marvin to lessen the high spirits of all, the Roosevelt pulled slowly out from the cape and turned her nose again to the south. On September 25th., she steamed into Indian Harbor, in Labrador, and the first dispatch went on the wires: “Have made good at last, I have the Pole.”
Yet, much of the glory of Peary’s Arctic discovery had been spoiled by Dr. Frederick A. Cook, an impostor, who had come from the north, some months before, had stated that he had reached the Pole, and had spread the news broadcast over the civilized world. Many had believed him, and he was given receptions, balls, the freedom of cities, until his records were found to be worthless and his story finally discredited. His advent into the arena at this time was most unfortunate for the gallant Peary, to whom belongs all the glory and honor which is due a brave man who did a big deed.
The Roosevelt at last reached the little town of Sydney, Cape Breton, where Mrs. Peary and the children were to meet the explorer. As the vessel neared the city, the entire water-front was alive with people. The seaport to which the adventurous navigator had returned so many times, unsuccessful, gave him a royal welcome as the Roosevelt steamed into view, flying at her masthead a flag which had never before entered any port in history,—the North Pole flag.