This state of affairs continued until the afternoon, when the storm finally abated and the boys began work again on the roof. The water in the tent subsided, and by putting pieces of plank down I could again move about without sinking into the mud, and I at once set to work to get the boys a square meal.
By Saturday morning our habitation was under cover, the stove put up temporarily, with the stovepipe through one of the spaces left for a window, and a fire made from the blocks and shavings that had escaped the flood. The house was soon comparatively dry,—at least it did not seem damp when compared with the interior of the tent,—and Mr. Peary was carried in and placed on a bed composed of boxes of provisions covered with blankets. Although we had no doors or windows in place, we felt that it might rain and storm as much as it pleased, and it would not interfere with finishing up the house and getting the meals, two very important items for us just then.
Gradually our home began to have a finished appearance: the inside sheathing was put on, and the doors and windows put in place. We had no more violent wind-storms, but it rained every day for over a week. At last, on August 8, there was no rain; and, as it was Matt’s birthday, Mr. Peary told the boys after lunch to take their rifles and bring in a deer. One of the rules of our Arctic home was that each member’s birthday should be celebrated by such a dinner as he might choose from our stock of provisions. Before going out Matt chose his menu, which I was to prepare while the hunters were gone. The plum-duff, however, he mixed himself, as he had taken lessons from the cook on board the “Kite.” After every one had gone, Mr. Peary surprised me by saying he intended to get up and come into the room where I was preparing the dinner. Only the day before the doctor had taken his leg out of the box and put it in splints, and he had been able for the first time since July 11 to turn on his side. I tried to persuade him to lie still for another day, but when I saw that he had set his heart on making the effort, I bandaged up the limb and helped him to dress. Then I brought him the crutches which Dr. Cook had made while we were still on board the ship, and with their aid he came slowly into the other room. Here, through the open door, he could watch the waves as they rose and fell on the beach about one hundred yards distant, while I prepared the “feast.” The bill of fare that Matt selected was as follows:
Mock-turtle soup.
Stew of little auk with green peas.
Broiled breasts of eider-duck.
Boston baked beans, corn, tomatoes.
Apricot pie, plum-duff with brandy sauce.
Sliced peaches.
Coffee.