My Arctic journal: a year among ice-fields and Eskimos

by Josephine Diebitsch Peary

ON THE BEACH OF McCORMICK BAY.

This morning the members of our party went ashore with pickaxes and shovels, and they are now digging the foundations of our “cottage by the sea.” They are also putting up a tent for our disabled commander, whence he can superintend the erection of the structure. The men are working in their undershirts and trousers, and it is quite warm enough for me to stay on deck without a wrap, even when I am not exercising; yet, if we had this temperature at home, we should consider it decidedly cool. I have had oil-stoves taken ashore for the purpose of heating the tent in case it becomes necessary.

Our “Cottage by the Sea.”

Wednesday, July 29. The last three days have been busy ones for me, being obliged to attend to all the packing and unpacking myself, besides waiting on Mr. Peary. Monday, after dinner, the boys finished digging the foundations. Mr. Peary was then strapped to a board, and four men carried him from the “Kite” into a boat. After crossing the bay he was carried up to the tent just back of where the house is being erected, and placed on a rough couch. He is near enough to superintend the work, and everything is progressing favorably.

Last night was a queer one for me. All the boys slept on board the “Kite,” leaving me entirely alone with my crippled husband in the little shelter-tent on the south shore of McCormick Bay. I had forgotten to have my rifle brought ashore, and I could not help thinking what would be the best thing for me to do in case an unwelcome visitor in the shape of a bear should take it into his head to poke his nose into the tent. While I was lying awake, imagining all sorts of things, I heard most peculiar grunts and snorts coming from the direction of the beach, and on looking out saw a school of white whale playing in the water just in front of our tent. They seemed to be playing tag, chasing each other and diving and splashing just like children in the water. I was surprised at their graceful movements as they glided along, almost coming up on the beach at times. The night passed uneventfully, but I decided to have Matt sleep on shore to-night, should the others go on board the “Kite” again. In case of a sudden wind-storm I could not steady the tent alone, and some one ought to be within calling distance.

As the members of the returning party come to bid us good-by it makes me feel very, very homesick; but a year will soon pass, and then we too shall return home. The professor has kindly offered to see mama, and do for her what he can in the way of keeping her posted.

Early Thursday morning, July 30, those of our party who had slept aboard ship—that is, all except Mr. Peary, Matt, and myself—were aroused and told they must “pull for the shore,” as the “Kite” was going to turn her nose toward home. Not being accustomed to the duties of housekeeper and nurse, I was so completely tired out that I slept soundly and knew nothing of the cheers and farewell salutes which passed between the little party who were to remain in the far North, and those on board the “Kite,” who would bring our friends the only tidings of us until our return in ’92. Mr. Peary remarked on the cheerfulness of our men. Less than five minutes after the boat grated on the beach he heard the sound of the hammer and the whistling of the boys.

Three or four hours after the “Kite” left McCormick Bay a furious wind and rain storm swept down upon us from the cliffs back of our house. The boys continued the work on the roof as long as possible, hoping to be able to get the whole house under cover, but the fury of the storm was such as to make it impossible for them to keep their foothold on the rafters, and they were obliged to seek shelter under what there was of the roof. At meal-time they all crowded in our little 7 × 10 canvas tent, sitting on boxes and buckets, and holding their mess-pans in their laps. These I supplied with baked beans, stewed corn, stewed tomatoes, and corned beef, from the respective pots in which they had been prepared. The rain dashed against the tent, and the wind rocked it to and fro. Every little while one of the guy-ropes would snap with a sound like the report of a pistol, and one of the boys would have to put his dinner on the ground and go out into the storm and refasten it, for these ropes were all that kept our little tent from collapsing. The meal completed, the boys returned to the house, where they had more room, even if they were not more comfortable.

I never shall forget this wretched night following the departure of the “Kite.” The stream which rushed down the sides of the cliffs divided just back of the tent, and one arm of it went round while the other came through our little shelter. The water came with such force that in a few moments it had made a furrow down the middle of the tent floor several inches deep and nearly the entire width of the floor space, through which it rushed and roared. All night long I was perched tailor-fashion on some boxes, expecting every moment to see the tent torn from its fastenings and the disabled man lying by my side exposed to the fury of the storm. Our only comfort, and one for which we were duly thankful, was that during this “night” of storm we had constant daylight; in other words, it was just as light at two o’clock in the morning as it was at two o’clock in the afternoon. When it was time for breakfast, I lighted the oil-stove, which I had fished out of the water just as it was about to float away, and made some coffee, and we breakfasted on coffee, biscuit, and corned beef.