About 2 A. M. of Christmas Day the wind began blowing from the south and was soon howling across the ship in a level torrent of white rage. Every stay and shroud was humming like a great æolian, and the ice about us was cracking and groaning with the strain. So violent was the wind that the window of the Captain’s stateroom was blown in. At 8 A. M. it was absolutely calm, the stars shining brilliantly, temperature at –6° F. and the air resonant with the dash of waves against the opposite side of the broad lead of open water.
The mess rooms were decorated with flags by the Doctor, and there were presents for everyone, principally candies and other creature comforts contributed by friends at home, at the head of whom stood Huyler. Among my own presents were a bottle of special champagne from home, another of ancient Tokay from a thoughtful friend, two or three letters, and a pillow of fragrant fir needles from Eagle Island, in a case worked by the blue-eyed little one who herself had been born within the precincts of the “Great Night.” The Christmas dinner was a special event shared alike by those forward as well as aft and appreciated by everyone.
Our Christmas festivities had, however, a somewhat startling and entirely unexpected ending. After dinner I paced the ice-foot for a couple of hours, busy with the crowding thoughts which my letters and presents had brought to me. Returning to my room I sat down to listen to the graphophone which the Doctor had started in the neighbouring mess room. A little later the ice began cracking and groaning, and in a moment or two it was evident to me that there was a new note in its complaint, entirely different from the usual accompaniment of the running of the spring tides. I stepped out upon the quarter-deck and could not only hear but feel the ice humming and cracking, not loudly but viciously under intense pressure. I called the Captain, stepped inside to put on my coat, extinguished my fire and the one in the adjoining workroom with a dipper of water, blew but my lamp, and passed forward through the house to the main deck.
When I reached there the ice had separated from the ice-foot, and the heavy floe which had squeezed us last September was moving off carrying with it our starboard ice-wall and leaving the starboard side of the ship completely exposed, with the black water lapping against the planking.
In a surprisingly short time the ice had disappeared completely in the inky darkness, and the black water stretched apparently limitless, giving back the image of every star. There was no cause for instant apprehension, the trouble would come when the ice came back with the turn of the tide, with nothing between the ship and it to break its momentum or cushion its blow.
The Eskimos were running about in great excitement, bringing up their children and household goods from the ’tweendecks; and not caring to have a lot of women and children to fall over in case of trouble, I had the stove in the big box house fired up and sent them all ashore to that shelter with their bedding and clothing. One of the crew and one of the Eskimo men who were temporarily on the sick list were likewise sent ashore.
MOONLIGHT VIEW OF THE “ROOSEVELT” IN HER WINTER QUARTERS
Exposed with full moon for three hours, December 12, 1905, by Dr. Wolf, Surgeon of the Expedition
THE BOW OF THE “ROOSEVELT” IN WINTER QUARTERS