At noon we passed Cape Cleveland, homeward bound, and an hour later reached Redcliffe. The house seemed very cold and chilly after the bright sunshine. Verhoeff, who had been left in charge, greeted us, and we soon had all the oil-stoves going, bread baking, rice cooking, beans heating, venison broiling, and coffee dripping, and at two o’clock all sat down to dinner and then turned in.
Tuesday, September 29. The last three days have been spent in hunting-explorations on the north shore and in preparations for the winter. The stove has been put up, the windows doubled, and the house made generally air-tight. We find the ice in the bay becoming firmer day by day, and in one of our expeditions we found it all but impossible to force the boat through it. Mr. Peary has now left off his splints and bandages, and has even laid aside his crutches. After lunch to-day I started out with a couple of fox-traps, and put them in the gorge about a mile back of the house. The day was fine, and I enjoyed my walk, although I came in for an unpleasant scare. After leaving the traps, I thought I would go over the mountains into the valley beyond, and see if I could find deer. Half-way up, about a thousand feet above sea-level, the snow began to slide under me, taking the shales of sandstone along with it, and of course I went too, down, down, trying to stop myself by digging my heels into the snow and attempting to grasp the stones as they flew by; but I kept on, and a cliff about two hundred feet from the bottom, over which I would surely be hurled if I did not succeed in stopping myself, was the only thing which I could see that could arrest my progress. At last I stopped about half-way down. What saved me I do not know. At first I was afraid to move for fear I should begin sliding again; but as I grew more courageous I looked about me, and finally on hands and knees I succeeded in getting on firm ground. I did not continue my climb, but returned to the house in a roundabout way.
Mr. Peary had the fire started in the big stove, and finds that it works admirably. The trouble will be to keep the fire low enough. Ikwa indulged in a regular war-dance at the sight of the blaze, never before having seen so much fire, and for the first few moments kept putting his fingers on the stove to see how warm it was. He soon found it too hot. He has been getting his sledge, dog-harness, spears, etc., in readiness for the winter’s hunt after seal.
Wednesday, September 30. Toward noon Matt came running in shouting, “Here are the boys, sir!” and sure enough Astrup and Gibson were here, bringing nothing but their snow-shoes with them. They were on the ice just a week, and estimate the distance traveled inland at thirty miles, and the greatest elevation reached at 4600 feet. They returned because it was too cold and the snow too deep for traveling. At the same time, they admit that they were not cold while on the march, and they do not think the temperature was more than 10° below zero; but as Gibson stepped on and broke the thermometer on the third day, up to which time the lowest had been –2°, they had no way of telling for certain. Gibson’s feet were blistered, he having forgotten to put excelsior or grass in his kamiks. He believes that with the moral support of a large party they can easily make from ten to fifteen miles per day.
Thursday, October 1. The day has been fine; the house is gradually assuming a cozy as well as comfortable appearance under Mr. Peary’s supervision. He is about from morning until night, limping a great deal, but he has put aside his crutches for good. At night his foot and leg are swollen very much, but after the night’s rest look better, although far from normal. Ikwa went out on the ice to-day for some distance to test its strength. I took my daily walk to the fox-traps, and as usual found no foxes had been near them.
Sunday, October 4. Nothing of any consequence has taken place since the return of the explorers. The boys have been at work on the house, hanging blankets, putting up shelves, etc. Friday I found one of my traps sprung, and a great many tracks around it, but no fox. On Saturday we went down to the point one quarter of a mile below the house, Mr. Peary walking without cane or crutch, and set a fox-trap on the rocks near some tracks. All this time the weather has been perfect. To-day Dr. Cook tried going out on the ice, but it did not hold him. The bunks of the boys have been placed against the east side of the large room and separate curtains furnished. The winter routine of four-hourly watches throughout the twenty-four hours was begun to-day, the boys taking them in turn.
Monday, October 5. It has been cloudy all day long, but with a temperature of about 12°. It still seems warm, as there is no wind whatever. I went to my fox-traps this forenoon, and found the view from the heights very fine. The clouds hung low, and gave a soft gray background for the blue bergs which gleamed on every side of a long black strip of water—the open sea—in the far distance. The light that fell on Northumberland Island decked it in a bright yellow, while the cliffs across the bay were black in the dark shadow.
The boys brought the “Mary Peary” up and turned her over, supporting her on pillars built of blocks of ice. Here Mr. Peary intends to put such provisions as we may need for our boat journey home next summer, covering the whole thing with snow. The “Faith” has been turned over against the front wall, and a place fixed under her for the Newfoundland dogs, Jack and Frank. As soon as we have enough snow the house, too, will be banked in with it.
