Friday, July 17. Last night was the worst night my poor husband has had. His leg pained him more than it had done so far, and he begged me to give him a sedative, which, with the doctor’s consent, I did; but even then his sleep was disturbed to such an extent that it amounted to delirium. He would plead with me to do something for his leg. After doing everything I could think of, I said, “Can’t you tell me where it hurts you most, and what you think might help you?” His answer was, “Oh, my dear, pack it in ice until some one can shoot it!” In this way he spent the night, and this morning he was thoroughly exhausted. Dr. Cook has succeeded in making his leg more comfortable, and now he sleeps. It seems very hard that I cannot take him away to some place where he can rest in peace.
Tuesday, July 21. Since last writing in my journal, four days ago, we have been steadily nearing Cape York, and we hope soon to clear the ice of Melville Bay, and pass into the open North Water beyond. Our hopes have, however, so often been disappointed that day by day, even when in full view of the land, we become less and less confident of ever being able to disengage ourselves from our confinement. Huge grounded bergs still hold the ice together, and until they show signs of moving there is little prospect of a general break-up.
On Saturday a bear with two cubs was seen on the ice ahead of us, and immediately every man was over the side of the vessel making for the animals. The mother, with a tender affection for her young, guided an immediate retreat, herself taking the rear, and alternately inciting the one cub and then the other to more rapid movement. Our boys were wholly unacquainted with the art of rapid traveling on the rough and hummocky ice, and before long the race was admitted to be a very unequal one; they were all quickly distanced. One of the men, in the excitement of the moment, joined in the chase without his gun, and, even without this implement, when he returned to the “Kite” he was so out of breath that he had to be hauled up the sides of the vessel like a dead seal. He lay sprawling and breathless on the deck for at least five minutes, much to the merriment of the crew and the more fortunate members of the party. A round weight of over two hundred pounds was responsible for his discomfiture. Monday morning about two o’clock the fog suddenly lifted, and we found ourselves almost upon the land. The visible shore extended from Cape York to Wolstenholme Island, and we could clearly distinguish Capes Dudley Diggs and Atholl. I held a looking-glass over the open skylight in such a way that Mr. Peary could see something of the outline of the coast. Poor fellow! he wanted to go on deck so badly, thinking that if he were strapped to a board he could be moved in safety, but the doctor persuaded him to give up the thought. As the doctors have all agreed that in six months his leg will be as good as it ever was, he refuses to consider the idea of returning on the “Kite”; as for myself, now that we have started, I want to keep on too. The air is almost black with flocks of the little auk, and a party on the ice to-day brought in sixteen birds in a very short time.