In the captain’s room, at the after end of the port side of the deck house, was a folding berth, a washbasin, a table and a camp chair, and these, with the chronometer, a trunk, and several pictures and photos on the walls, completed its furnishing.
At the after end of the starboard side of the deck house was my own room. This room, owing to the thoughtful care of Mrs. Peary and friends, was more luxuriously furnished than any room occupied by me on previous expeditions or than it would have been had I furnished it myself.
The room (10 × 16) was also larger than I had ever had on a previous expedition. The room occupied by Mrs. Peary and myself at Redcliffe was 7 × 12 feet, and the one at Anniversary Lodge 8 × 18 feet. But one of the most annoying circumstances of the long Arctic winter is always the crowding of cramped quarters, the inability to move without knocking against something, the feeling of oppression. This, on top of the contracted horizon and feeling of compression from the protracted darkness, is at times almost intolerable, and in planning the Roosevelt quarters I felt that I was justified in giving myself a little more room. Two ports and a window looking aft lighted the room and, as in the captain’s room, a door opened aft on to the quarter-deck, while another gave me direct access to the engine room.
A berth, a table, and a chair, are of course essentials and were present. Then came the pièce de résistance, the beautiful pianola given me by my friend H. H. Benedict. This, with a rack of nearly 150 music rolls, popular operas, marches, waltzes and rag-time, was screwed to the deck at the forward end of the room. Over it was a large framed portrait of the founder of the Expedition, Morris K. Jesup, flanked on either side by an etching of President Roosevelt and a photo of Judge Darling, Assistant Secretary of the Navy. In the forward corner was a stationary washstand, and on the inboard wall a series of shelves containing a small Arctic library, a few books of reference, and a few standard works of fiction. A chest of drawers, a cellarette, a table, a wicker easy chair from Mr. Jesup, a warm brown rug from Mrs. Peary, pictures of the home folks and home places, and Arctic maps upon the walls completed the fittings, not including a trunk and two chests of stores in the doctor’s department, for which there was at present no room below decks.
Wednesday, July 26th, ’05.—All things come to an end at last, even the starting of this Expedition.
The Roosevelt got away from the Terminal Pier at North Sydney at 2 P. M.[[1]] With the exception of the quarter-deck, which is loaded with bags of coal, to keep the ship from trimming too deep by the head, the deck is not nearly so badly littered and cumbered as on previous voyages.
[1]. Note.—The Roosevelt sailed from New York on July 16th, touched in at Bar Harbour to receive Mr. Jesup’s “God-speed,” then loaded with coal at Sydney, C. B.
The cases of oil and a few miscellaneous casks are practically all that is not below hatches. We have on board something over 500 tons of coal, besides our supplies and equipment. In capacity, the Roosevelt comes fully up to my expectations. There is a quarter of beef in the rigging, two or three sheep among the coal bags aft, and a tank and several casks of water on deck, besides the full tanks below.
Once under way, I hope to make no stops this side of Cape York. It is already late in the season and every day now is precious.
Percy, the steward, has purchased two small porkers, “Dennis” and “Mike,” which are running contentedly about the deck, and if they escape the dogs, which is very doubtful, they may furnish us roast pork for our Christmas dinner.