Three days later on Wednesday morning, we reached Cape Breton Island and made our way into the spacious harbor of Sydney. The Peary, having preceded us, was lying at North Sydney loading coal and placing iron plates over the lower portholes, that they might not be broken by the ice.
We made our way to a supply dock in the lower end of Sydney harbor and began loading fuel and other supplies. Inasmuch as Sydney was the most outlying stop on our journey to offer tonsorial and other luxurious civilized conveniences, we availed ourselves of all the facilities that the town afforded. For awhile the barber shop was the center of interest, with the soda counter at the drug store running a close second. It was while we were in a drug store that an unprecedented thing happened. Mr. Raycroft, a friend of the Commander’s, who had accompanied us up to Sydney, entered the store, started to make a purchase, when suddenly he bolted into the street without a word of explanation. In a few moments he returned looking a few shades paler, and in reply to our anxious queries he told us that the unaccustomed steadiness of the building had made him feel sick, and he felt an urgent need of fresh air. That was the only case of “land sickness” in the memory of the oldest inhabitant.
After a voyage of general exploration about the town, we discovered the product for which Sydney is famous, and that is lobsters. Under the leadership of Ben Rigg, an ardent enthusiast on the subject of shellfish, we raided every lobster joint in town. One may easily imagine after our hollow days at sea that there was plenty of room for food. After visiting about five places and exhausting their limited supplies, we ended up about eleven o’clock in a Chinaman’s, where we gorged on more of these luscious crustaceans and on chop suey. None of us had nightmare, strange to say.
After three days of the strenuous life in Sydney, our preparations were complete, and we pulled out for the bleak and desolate Labrador, leaving instructions with the Peary to join us at Battle Harbor after completing her coaling.
We set sail for the Labrador with a feeling that we were at last entering the great unknown. From what we had heard and read concerning this region, none of us knew what to expect. But we had the best possible person on board to enlighten us; namely, Doctor Wilfred Grenfell, the famous Labrador missionary doctor. He was just returning from a trip around the world and had arrived in Sydney preparatory to going on to Battle Harbor. Being acquainted with the Commander, he came down, and as the Doctor was planning to leave on the next steamer, the Commander invited him to accompany us instead. In addition to Doctor Grenfell we were accompanied by another distinguished guest, Dr. Gilbert Grosvenor, President of the National Geographic Society, under whose auspices we sailed. Having voyaged with us to Sydney, he was so charmed with the life aboard ship that he continued with us to Battle Harbor. Thus we were well equipped with celebrities, come what might.
Copyright, National Geographic Society.
Rawson, MacMillan at the wheel, and Dr. Grosvenor.
On way to Sydney.
