UP TO CAPE YORK 35 



at the East Twenty -fourth Street pier, coaling between 

 her voyages; and now, by a strange chance, the two 

 vessels lay side by side again in this little out-of-the- 

 way harbor on the Labrador coast. No two ships 

 could be more unlike than these two: one white 

 as snow, her brasswork glittering in the sun, speedy, 

 light as an arrow; the other black, slow, heavy, almost 

 as solid as a rock — each built for a special purpose 

 and adapted to that purpose. 



Mr. Harkness and a party of friends, including 

 several ladies, came on board the Roosevelt, and the 

 dainty dresses of our feminine guests further accentu- 

 ated the blackness, the strength, and the not over 

 cleanly condition of our ship. 



We stopped once more at Turnavik Island, a 

 fishing station belonging to Captain Bartlett's father, 

 and took on a consignment of Labrador skin boots, 

 for which we should have use in the North. Just 

 before reaching the Island we encountered a furious 

 thunderstorm. It was the most northerly thunder- 

 storm which I remember having experienced. 



I recall, however, that on our upward voyage in 

 1905 we ran into very heavy thunderstorms with elec- 

 trical displays quite as sharp as any encountered in 

 Gulf storms on voyages in southern waters, though 

 the storms of 1905 were met in the neighborhood of 

 Cabot Strait, far south of those of 1908. 



Our voyage to Cape York was a peaceful one, 

 lacking even the small excitement of the same journey 

 three years before, when, not far from Cape St. George, 

 all hands were startled by an alarm of fire which started 

 in one of the main deck beams from the uptake of 



