fore the wind, and we were compelled to
hurry back to our former berth below Black Cape. We did not get in again
without some trouble as the strong wind made the _Roosevelt_ hard to
manage. The starboard quarter boat was badly smashed against the corner
of a big berg piece, and the starboard corner of the forward deck house
was almost ripped from the decking.

But all hands were stimulated by the thought that we were now only a few
miles from Cape Sheridan--so near our goal that we were restless to be
off again. That evening, with the ebb tide, the ice slackened, and the
order was given to steam ahead. After one or two narrow escapes between
the rapidly running floes, we reached the delta of Black Cape River, a
few miles beyond our former place. But when the tide turned we were
obliged to hurry back about a quarter of a mile to the shelter of a
grounded berg.

When the hawsers were made fast I went ashore and up to the delta to
look at the ice beyond. Not a crack or hole was visible to the north,
and the path by which we had retreated to our present position was now a
sea of solid ice. Should we _ever_ be able to make the few remaining
miles?

The wind continued to blow violently from the south, the ice began to
slack off a little behind us, and at three o'clock in the morning of the
5th of September there was a gradually widening lead to the north. I
felt that it was now or never, and the order went down for every pound
of steam and full speed. Thus we rounded Cape Rawson, and Cape Sheridan
was in view. At last! That sloping headland looked more beautiful than
the gates of paradise to our vigil-wearied eyes.

We rounded the cape at a quarter past seven, fifteen minutes later than
the time of our arrival in 1905. Since the 23d of August, thirteen days
before, neither Bartlett nor I had had our clothes off.

Should we stop here? There was still open water beyond. I gave orders to
steam ahead, hoping that we might reach Porter Bay. But after two miles
we came to another impassable barrier of ice, and it was decided that it
was Cape Sheridan again for this year's winter quarters. Back we went,
and the work of getting the _Roosevelt_ inside the tide crack was begun.

My heart was light. Those two miles beyond Cape Sheridan had given us
the record of "farthest north" which any vessel had ever reached under
her own steam, 82 deg. 30'. One vessel only, Nansen's _Fram_, had been
farther north, but she had drifted there st