Manchester Democrat

LIEUT. ROBERT E. PEARY'S last dash to the pole ended at 84 degrees 17 minutes north latitude—343 miles from the pole. At this point he was compelled to turn back, not because of physical exhaustion or lack of supplies, but because the ice cap was impassable for men on foot, in sledges, or in boats.

While Lieut. Peary did not equal the Duke d'Abruzzi's record of 86.33, and Nansen's mark of 86.14, he set a new American record. Heretofore the highest American record was that of Lockwood, of the Greely expedition, who reached 83.24 degrees north latitude, in 1884.

At 87.47 north latitude Peary found the ice cap broken by immense ridges difficult to surmount. Great fissures opened in the ice in every direction. Dense fogs made traveling almost impossible.

The north pole his goal, and possession for the United States of the far-off limits of the world his ambition, Peary launched the little band of which he was the leader upon its plunge into the frozen land of mystery in 1898. Hope was strong within his breast, and his plans, maturing through the years he had spent in the region for which he was bound in his previous ineffectual dashes northward, seemed to provide for every contingency that might arise.

It was not to be a quick rush through the ice-bound region. Rather was it to be a siege. Peary was convinced that the only way in which he might accomplish his great aim would be to go forward prepared to remain for several years if necessary, fortifying each step in advance of the main body of his expedition so he might safely fall back a fraction of the way if compelled to do so and still be ready at the instant conditions changed to push on once more. Relief expeditions were arranged to go up after him each year, ready to take him back to civilization if he had gained what he sought, or to return without him if he still had his task before him.

Privations of the sort that drive the bravest men from their appointed missions confronted the daring explorer in the four years that he spent in the frozen fastnesses of the North, cut off from all civilization, his friends and supporters in doubt most of the time whether he still lived.

Lieut. Peary made his first exploration of the North in 1886, when, having been granted leave of absence by the Navy Department, he penetrated far into Greenland and reached an elevation on the Greenland ice never before attained by a white man. He also reached—the first of his race to accomplish as much—the interior plateau of unchanging arctic snow.

In 1891 he made his second venture, accompanied by Mrs. Peary and a small party. His hope was to discover the northern limits of Greenland and seek to push on to the pole if possible. Before he was well on the way his leg was broken in an accident to his ship in the ice floes. It was the following spring before he could renew his journey, and then he set out with one companion and his dogs and sledges. July 1 he reached his goal, the northern end of Greenland, and there he ran up the American flag. A bay stretched before him, and this water he named Independence Bay in honor of the day. Across the bay was land, visible, but not attainable.

He returned home.

His next expedition was begun in 1893, after he had overcome the most trying obstacles in the matter of gathering sufficient funds to make the journey a possibility at all. Matt Henson, the black body servant, was with him this time and was his constant companion in all the arduous struggles that followed. His ship, the Falcon, returning after landing him on the northern shores, was lost, and dissensions arising among his followers he was left with only Henson and another companion, Hugh J. Lee.

In 1895 he set out with his two companions.