ndy, one for every man on board, a gift from Mrs. Peary.

It is a great satisfaction to me that this whole expedition, together
with the ship, was American from start to finish. We did not purchase a
Newfoundland or Norwegian sealer and fix it over for our purposes, as in
the case of other expeditions. The _Roosevelt_ was built of American
timber in an American shipyard, engined by an American firm with
American metal, and constructed on American designs. Even the most
trivial items of supplies were of American manufacture. As regards
personnel almost the same can be said. Though Captain Bartlett and the
crew were Newfoundlanders, the Newfoundlanders are our next-door
neighbors and essentially our first cousins. This expedition went north
in an American-built ship, by the American route, in command of an
American, to secure if possible an American trophy. The _Roosevelt_ was
built with a knowledge of the requirements of arctic navigation, gained
by the experience of an American on six former voyages into the Arctic.

I was extremely fortunate in the personnel of this last and successful
expedition, for in choosing the men I had the membership of the previous
expedition to draw from. A season in the Arctic is a great test of
character. One may know a man better after six months with him beyond
the Arctic circle than after a lifetime of acquaintance in cities. There
is a something--I know not what to call it--in those frozen spaces, that
brings a man face to face with himself and with his companions; if he is
a man, the man comes out; and, if he is a cur, the cur shows as
quickly.

First and most valuable of all was Bartlett, master of the _Roosevelt_,
whose ability had been proved on the expedition of 1905-6. Robert A.
Bartlett, "Captain Bob," as we affectionately call him, comes from a
family of hardy Newfoundland navigators, long associated with arctic
work. He was thirty-three when we last sailed north. Blue-eyed,
brown-haired, stocky, and steel-muscled Bartlett, whether at the wheel
of the _Roosevelt_ hammering a passage through the floes, or tramping
and stumbling over the ice pack, with the sledges, or smoothing away the
troubles of the crew, was always the same--tireless, faithful,
enthusiastic, true as the compass.

Matthew A. Henson, my negro assistant, has been with me in one capacity
or another since my second trip to Nicaragua, in 1887. I have taken him
with me on each and all of my northern expeditions, e