On the summer solstice, June 22, midnoon of the arctic summer and the longest day of the year, it snowed all night; but a week later the weather seemed almost tropical, and we all suffered from the heat, strange though it seems to say it. The glimpses of open water off Cape Sheridan were increasing in frequency and size, and on July 2 we could see a considerable lake just off the point of this cape. The 4th of July as we observed it would have pleased the advocates of "a quiet Fourth." What with the recent death of Marvin and the fact that the day was Sunday, nothing out of the ordinary routine was done except to dress the ship with flags, and there was scarcely enough wind even to display our bunting. Three years ago that very day the Roosevelt got away from her winter quarters at almost the same spot in a strong southerly gale; but the experience on that occasion convinced me that it would be best to hang on in our present position just as late in July as possible, and thus give the ice in Robeson and Kennedy Channels more time to break up.
It almost seemed as if the Roosevelt shared with us our anticipation of a speedy return, for she continued gradually to regain an even keel, and within four or five days she had automatically completed this operation. On the 8th we put out the eight-inch hawser and made the ship fast, bow and stern, in order to hold her in position in case she should be subjected to any pressure before we were ready to depart. On the same day we began in real earnest to make ready for the homeward departure. The work began with the taking on of coal, which, it will be remembered, had been transferred to shore along with quantities of other supplies when we went into winter quarters, in order to make provisions against the loss of the ship by fire, or ice pressure, or what not, in the course of the winter. The process of getting the ship ready for her homeward voyage does not require detailed description. Suffice it to say that it furnished the entire party with hard work and plenty of it for fully ten days.
At the expiration of that period Bartlett reported the ship ready to sail. Observation of conditions off shore revealed the fact that Robeson Channel was practicable for navigation. Our work was done, success had crowned our efforts, the ship was ready, we were all fit, and on July 18, with only the tragic memory of the lost lamented Marvin to lessen our high spirits, the Roosevelt pulled slowly out from the cape and turned her nose again to the south.
Off Cape Union the Roosevelt was intentionally forced out into the ice to fight a way down the center of the channel in accordance with my deliberate program.
For a ship of the Roosevelt's class, this is the best and quickest return route—far preferable to hugging the shore.
The voyage to Battle Harbor was comparatively uneventful. It involved, of course, as does any journey in those waters, even under favorable conditions, unceasing watchfulness and skill in ice navigation, but the trip was without pronounced adventure. On August 8 the Roosevelt emerged from the ice and passed Cape Sabine, and the value of experience and the new departure of forcing the ship down the center of the channel instead of along shore will be appreciated from the fact that we were now thirty-nine days ahead of our 1906 record on the occasion of our previous return from Cape Sheridan, although we had left Cape Sheridan considerably later than before. The voyage from Cape Sheridan to Cape Sabine had been made in fifty-three days, less time than in 1906.
We stopped at Cape Saumarez, the Nerke of the Eskimos, and a boat's crew went ashore. It was there I first heard of the movements of Dr. Frederick Cook during the previous year while absent from Anoratok. We arrived at Etah on the 17th of August. There I learned further details as to the movements of Dr. Cook during his sojourn in that region.
At Etah we picked up Harry Whitney, who had spent the winter in that neighborhood in arctic hunting. Here, also, we killed some seventy-odd walrus for the Eskimos, whom we distributed at their homes whence we had taken them in the previous summer.
They were all as children, yet they had served us well. They had, at times, tried our tempers and taxed our patience; but after all they had been faithful and efficient. Moreover, it must not be forgotten that I had known every member of the tribe for nearly a quarter of a century, until I had come to regard them with a kindly and personal interest, which any man must feel with regard to the members of any inferior race who had been accustomed to respect and depend upon him during the greater part of his adult life. We left them all better supplied with the simple necessities of arctic life than they had ever been before, while those who had participated in the sledge journey and the winter and spring work on the northern shore of Grant Land were really so enriched by our gifts that they assumed the importance and standing of arctic millionaires. I knew, of course, that in all probability I should never see them again. This feeling was tempered with the knowledge of success; but it was not without keen regret that I looked my last upon these strange and faithful people who had meant so much to me.
We cleared from Cape York on August 26, and on September 5 we steamed into Indian Harbor. Here the first despatch that went over the wires was to Mrs. Peary: "Have made good at last. I have the Pole. Am well. Love," followed in rapid succession by one from Bartlett to his mother; and, among others, one to H. L. Bridgman, secretary of the Peary Arctic Club: "Sun," a cipher meaning, "Pole reached. Roosevelt safe."