The winter, which for convenience I assume to comprise the time from November 1st to February 7th, the date of the return of the last of the field parties, was marked by practically the same ice and atmospheric conditions as the fall, accompanied of course by a greater degree of cold and almost entire absence of light.

Through all its vicissitudes and against continued stress of wind and ice, the Roosevelt clung to her moorings against the ice-foot, presenting a marked contrast to the usual pictures of Arctic ships in winter quarters. Having no topmasts to house, the ship’s slender masts and light but effective rigging rose aloft just as they did in the summer time. With decks uncovered and only the houses banked in with snow, at a little distance in the dim light the ship’s general appearance was much as when afloat. One very distinctive, very salient feature, was the galley lamp, the “eye of the Roosevelt” as it was called, which night and day from early October, when the sun left us, until early March when it returned, shone through the galley window, lighting the main deck and piercing the darkness, the falling snow, the fog, for a considerable distance on either bow. This beam of yellow light showed clearly from the top of the lookout hill which some of us climbed every practicable day, and was visible to every returning party from Hecla or the hunting fields of the interior as soon as it rounded Cape Sheridan.

To anyone given to a belief in such things there were several encouraging omens about the ship’s position. The Roosevelt’s nose pointed persistently almost true north, the bright yellow eye looked incessantly to the northward and the beaten sledge road from the ship to all points of communication led north along the ice-foot.

The southerly gales continued to occur with frequency, and increased in violence as we neared the depth of winter. The movement of the ice was nearly continuous, becoming very pronounced on each spring tide, and the roaring of the pack at these times grew louder and more vicious as the newly forming ice grew in thickness and hardness.

This movement of the ice culminated on Christmas night in the breaking away of the ice from the ice-foot and the starboard side of the Roosevelt and, so far as could be determined in the darkness, the complete disruption of the pack adjacent to the shore and in the mouth of Robeson Channel. This disruption probably covered the entire segment of Lincoln Sea from Cape Joseph Henry to Cape Bryant and probably beyond.

Open water in the shape sometimes of leads, sometimes of lakes, was also of almost continuous occurrence.

Repeated pressures were experienced by the Roosevelt, none of them very serious, but sufficient to keep us on the qui vive all the time. The snow upon the land and along the ice-foot, which at first necessitated the use of snowshoes, eventually became packed by the recurring winds, until it would support the weight of a man. Nearly all conditions were almost entirely the reverse of those experienced by the British expedition in the same region thirty years previous. The winter moons in this high latitude were of long duration and of great brilliancy unless obscured by bad weather.

The usual monotony of an Arctic winter was entirely destroyed for us (outside of the continuous excitement which the movement of the ice afforded us) by the extensive widening of our horizon as a result of my settlements in the interior. The largest of these was located upon the southern slopes of the United States Range north of Lake Hazen; another near the head of Lake Hazen; and a third at the Ruggles River, with intermediate snow houses along the trail between the settlements and the ship.

From these settlements at the beginning of each moon sledges came in bringing loads of musk-ox meat and news of the hunt during the preceding weeks. These sledges remained a few days at the ship, then outfitted again and went back with new instalments of Eskimo families to spend the interval until the next moon in the interior. As a result of this there was constantly something to talk of and something to look forward to.

Preparations for the spring sledge journey were carried on continuously, more sledges were built and tents, harnesses, traces, and fur clothing made; the Eskimo women in all work demanding sewing proving themselves invaluable. Pemmican was taken from the cases, canvassed in packages convenient for handling and stowing upon the sledges, and numbered, under the supervision of Mr. Bartlett, the mate. My own time was fully occupied in planning and supervision and in devising some new methods and items of equipment.

Personally I have never spent a winter in the Arctic regions so free from petty annoyances and discomforts, both physical and mental. The members of the party were congenial, cheerful, energetic, and interested in the work. The ship’s people were interested and willing, and the atmosphere of the ship lacked entirely the element of friction which is so often an extremely disagreeable feature of Arctic winter life.

Captain Bartlett relieved me of all detailed care of the ship, receiving and carrying out my general suggestions with great energy and intelligence. I felt that the physical well-being of the party was safe in the hands of Dr. Wolf, and Marvin relieved me of the routine drudgery of observations in addition to assisting in other ways. Added to this, Percy the steward was unremitting in looking out for my physical comfort.

There are, however, so many trump cards which can be played against him who attempts to do serious work in the highest latitudes, that there is always some vital point which in spite of every care and provision and forethought threatens to go wrong.

The present occasion was no exception to the rule. Besides my anxiety in regard to the Roosevelt, which in comparison was of minor importance, I was in a constant state of apprehension in regard to the dogs. Each party coming from the interior brought reports of additional deaths among these animals, until their number was reduced to the danger limit below which it would be impossible for me to carry out essential features of the spring campaign.

In spite of these anxieties, however, my freedom from minor annoyances afforded me time and suitable frame of mind to devise new methods and items of equipment which assisted materially later on. Among the latter was a quick-acting alcohol camp stove, built upon a new principle; and among the former a plan of campaign and method of advance which possesses valuable possibilities, and which had it not been for the unusual ice conditions marking the year, and particularly the disruption of the pack by the April storm, would have enabled us to grasp the prize which was the object of the Expedition.

Mingled with this work and these plans and anxieties, were times for thoughts and impressions some of which will be given here even though they may interest no one but myself, because to every normal mind they are as much a part of the Arctic winter night as the ice, the darkness, and the cold. Moments of exultation and moments of depression. Moments of eager impatience when I wished that the day for the departure north might be to-morrow. Moments of foreboding when I dreaded its arrival. Moments of sanguine hopes, others of darkest misgivings. Thoughts and memories of the home land, dreams and plans for the future. At times the days seemed to rush by with the velocity of the flood-tide past Sheridan, at others they were as tardy as if moored to a rock. At all these times the pianola, Mr. Benedict’s splendid gift, was invaluable, soothing and lightening many an hour, and sending me back to my work refreshed and with new energy. For rest and recreation from the monotony of incessant planning about the spring campaign, I began upon plans for another ship of the same general size and model of the Roosevelt for Arctic or Antarctic work, but with improvements and details modified in the light of experience gained with the Roosevelt.

November 1st I placed a minimum self-registering thermometer on the top of a hill 410 feet high about a mile distant from the Roosevelt. On the 2d among other work some baled hay was opened for use in connection with the snow houses ashore, and the perfume of it brought back a rush of associations. What a contrast—this frozen night-canopied land- and sea-scape, and warm summer hayfields in God’s country. It does not seem as if both could be upon the same planet.

On the 8th four families of Eskimos came in from the Ruggles River. They have been in the field twenty-seven days and have secured some seventy-five musk-oxen, thirty to forty hare and twenty to twenty-five foxes. Besides musk-ox meat they brought in some hundred pounds of the peerless salmon trout from Lake Hazen.

On the 15th an aurora, one of several successive displays of no great brilliancy, was in several respects different from any that I had ever noticed. Occurring in the east directly over some pools of open water it was so low as apparently to emanate from the water, and at irregular intervals the faint patches of auroral light would disappear completely to be replaced a moment later by a single bright spot like a pale parhelion close to the water. Occasionally in place of the parhelion a bright narrow vertical bar of light appeared. The 16th was marked by pronounced barometric and thermometric fluctuations, the former downward, the latter upward, these abrupt changes followed by violent wind from the south, and this in turn by a mile-wide belt of water reaching from behind Rawson past the ship and Cape Sheridan, and so northward toward Henry as far as could be seen in the obscure moonlight.

The view from the hill in the evening was striking. The brilliant moonlight; the sky blue-black except where flecked with silvery clouds; the dead white of the ice; the inky blackness of the water; the ghostly shapes of the land; the one tiny speck of yellow light shining out from the Roosevelt. Accompanying and adding a touch of action to this outlook was the rush of the wind which, although laden with drifting snow, seemed yet to have a touch of warmth in it, and the cries of the Eskimo children playing on the ice-foot, mingled with the sound of waves dashing against the edges of the lead, and the distant hoarse roar of the ice pack surging back with the flood-tide into the mouth of Robeson Channel.

The 25th was marked by groans and complaint from the Roosevelt and the ice about her, accompanied by loud roaring of the heavier floes as they ground past the point of Sheridan during the greater portion of the flood-tide.

Thanksgiving Day was marked by the presence of plum-pudding, candy and cigars on the dinner table, and a graphophone performance by the Doctor in the evening. December 4th, on the first of the moon, two Eskimos came in from the interior reporting thirty-three musk-oxen killed during the past month and that twelve to fifteen more dogs had died. During the December moon the Doctor made a number of photos of the ship.

On the 16th Henson and six Eskimos came in and reported twenty musk-oxen killed since the last report. This makes sixty-two in all since the exodus from the ship the last of November. This is very satisfactory, but is more than balanced by the news of additional deaths among the dogs. Two large buck reindeer were found on the southern slopes of the United States Range with their horns locked, frozen in a death struggle. On the 17th with the running of the spring tides there were again serious complaints from the Roosevelt and the neighbouring ice. On the 18th, Marvin left with four Eskimos for the Lake Hazen colonies to remain until the February moon. The winter solstice occurred on the 22d, the sun (invisible to us of course) in the early morning hours reaching his greatest southern declination, the midnight hour of the “Great Night.” From now on he would be slowly coming back to us. This is the New Year’s day of the northern hemisphere, a world-day beside which our artificial dates and holidays pale, and nowhere else meaning so much as here in this black disk of the “Great Night.”