In 1899, Dr. Robert Stein of the United States Geological Survey, Dr. Leopold Kann of Cornell, and Mr. Samuel Warmbath had taken passage in the Peary supply ship Diana for explorations in Ellesmere Land.
In the fall of 1899, the Windward returned to the United States, leaving Peary in Etah, where he remained until the following March, when he journeyed to Fort Conger, and from there made his northern dash in an attempt to reach the Pole. The explorer followed closely the route laid down by Brainard and Lockwood, and, on May 8, beat their record; later he reached the most northern point of land to which he gave the name of Cape Morris K. Jesup, 83° 39´ N. From this point his travel was over the disintegrating polar pack, an advance of “ridges of heavy ice thrown up to heights of twenty-five to fifty feet, crevasses and holes masked by snow, the whole intersected by narrow leads of open water.” Having reached 83° 54´ N., he then returned to Cape Morris Jesup and followed the coast of Melville Land for some distance, then returned south. In 1901, he attempted another northern journey, but found advance impossible after reaching Lincoln Bay.
Undaunted by failure, his next attempt was made in February, 1902, and reached, April 21, 84° 17´ N., but again he was forced back, after risking his own life and that of his companions over the worst ice he had ever encountered. Momentarily discouraged, he wrote at this time: “The game is off. My dream of sixteen years is ended. I have made the best fight I knew. I believe it has been a good one. But I cannot accomplish the impossible.”
After four years of strenuous endeavour in the face of the most disheartening failure, Peary came back to the United States, took courage once more, renewed the losing fight, and planned his seventh voyage into the Arctic.
POLAR EXPEDITION IN S.S. “ROOSEVELT”
Under the auspices of the Peary Arctic Club, a model ship was built for the sole purpose of assisting Peary in accomplishing the work upon which he had set his heart, lavished his fortune, and staked the confidence of his friends. The result was the building of the Roosevelt, the most modern of ice-fighters. The plans for the Roosevelt allowed a length of one hundred and eighty-four by thirty-five feet beam and sixteen feet draft, loaded. She was provided with engines capable of developing one thousand horse-power; she carried a light three-masted schooner rig. Her hull was especially designed to resist the terrific pressure of the ice-floes, and of such shape to lift easily from the treacherous ice cradles in which she was expected to test her resisting qualities. In this splendid craft, Peary started north in 1905; and boldly ploughed the Roosevelt farther than any vessel had yet penetrated, reaching nearly 82° 30´ north latitude on the north coast of Grant Land. The Roosevelt wintered at Cape Sheridan, and from this high latitude Peary started in February, 1906, for the Pole. Everything seemed favourable, improved equipment, Eskimo assistance, well-laid caches, and Peary himself full of the eternal vigour, which, in spite of years of hardship, gave to his mind and body the elasticity of youth.
On—across the interminable obstacles—on—past one degree and then another, with the ever present problem of cold, storm, rough ice, and diminishing food, until finally the forces of nature baffled once again the forces of human strength. At 87° 6´, the uncompromising voices of the North cried out, “This far shalt thou come, and no farther.” Back once more—step by step—over hummock, crevasse, and floe, over thin and treacherous ice, across the big lead whose thin, undulating surface, some two miles in width, barely supported the weight of a man, in his frantic race with death.
Back once more to the south, baffled once more in his schemes, but sterner than ever in the purpose to die or win “because the thing he has set himself to do is a part of his being.” Peary returned to the United States, the plans of his eighth and final journey already maturing in his mind.
The Roosevelt was docked for the purpose of repairs. Funds for this last journey were slow in forthcoming. Every expedient was tried, but, though a substantial sum was raised, there still lacked money to complete the work, provision and equip the expedition, and to pay the current expenses of the trip. In the midst of these perplexing problems, Peary received another blow in the news of the death of Mr. Morris K. Jesup, his most liberal supporter. With his death all seemed lost; the darkest hour of discouragement had come; delays of months meant perhaps the delay of years, or, possibly, the entire abandonment of this last voyage—the voyage of the forlorn hope. Proverbially the darkest hour is just before dawn, and the Peary Arctic Club, under its new president, General Thomas H. Hubbard, received a liberal check, tendered by Mr. Zenas Crane, the paper manufacturer of Massachusetts, which suddenly rent asunder the sombre clouds and showed once more their silver lining.