THE START 29 



backs and knock-out blows received in the past had 

 dulled my sense of danger. 



The Roosevelt having coaled at Sydney, we crossed 

 the bay to North Sydney to take on some last items 

 of supplies. When we started to leave the wharf 

 over there we discovered that we were aground, and 

 had to wait an hour or so for the tide to rise. In our 

 efforts to move the ship, one of the whale-boats was 

 crushed between the davits and the side of the pier; 

 but after eight arctic campaigns one does not regard 

 a little accident like that as a bad omen. 



We got away from North Sydney about half past 

 three in the afternoon of July 17, in glittering golden 

 sunshine. As we passed the signal station, they sig- 

 naled us, "Good-by and a prosperous voyage"; we 

 replied, "Thank you," and dipped our colors. 



A little tug, which we had chartered to take our 

 guests back to Sydney, followed the Roosevelt as far 

 as Low Point Light, outside the harbor; there she ran 

 alongside, and Mrs. Peary and the children, and Colo- 

 nel Borup, with two or three other friends, transferred 

 to her. As my five-year-old son, Robert, kissed me 

 good-by, he said, "Come back soon, dad." With 

 reluctant eyes I watched the little tug grow smaller 

 and smaller in the blue distance. Another farewell 

 — and there had been so many ! Brave, noble little 

 woman! You have borne with me the brunt of all 

 my arctic work. But, somehow, this parting was less 

 sad than any which had gone before. I think that we 

 both felt it was the last. 



By the time the stars came out, the last items of 

 supplies taken on at North Sydney were stowed, and 



