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Updated: June 24, 2025
"The ward is heavy, isn't it?" "Very. I've been almost mad at dressing hour. There are three of us you, myself, and a probationer." The first light of the Christmas morning was coming through the windows. Carlotta put out the lights and turned in a business-like way to her records. "The probationer's name is Wardwell," she said. "Perhaps you'd better help her with the breakfasts.
When he came out of his cabin and did talk to me, it was only to compare notes and agree that our experiences proved that there was absolutely no question about our having discovered the Pole. Captain Bartlett, Dr. Goodsell, Chief Wardwell, Percy they could talk as they would; but the one ever-present thought in my mind was of Marvin, and of his death.
Carlotta took a bottle from her medicine cupboard, and, writing a new label for it, pasted it over the old one. Then she exchanged it for one of the same size on the medicine tray. In the dining-room, at the probationers' table, Miss Wardwell was talking. "Believe me," she said, "me for the country and the simple life after this.
Although I hope to perfect myself in navigation, my knowledge so far consists only of knot and splice seamanship, and I need to master the mathematical end. The Chief Engineer, Mr. Wardwell, is a fine-looking, ruddy-complexioned giant, with the most honest eyes I have ever looked into. His hair is thinning and is almost pure white, and I should judge him to be about forty-five years old.
I am making no judgments or comments on these fellows now. Wait; I have seen too many enthusiastic starters, and I am sorry to say some of them did not finish well. All of the rest of the members of the expedition are the same as were on the first trip of the Roosevelt: Commander Peary, Captain Bartlett, Professor Marvin, Chief Engineer Wardwell, Charley Percy the steward, and myself.
But here and there one found women, like Carlotta and Miss Wardwell, who had mistaken their vocation, who railed against the monotony of the life, its limitations, its endless sacrifices. They showed it in their eyes.
She married Eliakim Wardwell, son of Thomas Wardwell, who was also a citizen. They became Quakers; and the story begins when the poor young woman had been a wife just three years.
The shouting and the tumult ceases, the din of whistles, bells, and throats dies out, and once again the long, slow surge of the ocean hits the good ship that we have embarked in. It was at one-thirty P. M. to-day that I saw the last hawse-line cast adrift, and felt the throb of the engines of our own ship. Chief Wardwell is on the job, and from now on it is due north.
And he, therefore, could not even ride around like Master Putnam, with a frowning face, uttering occasional emphatic expressions of his indignation and horror, that the crowd would probably not have endured from any one else. There were some incidents that were especially noticeable. Samuel Wardwell had "confessed" in his fear, but subsequently taken back his false confession, and met his death.
Wardwell, and inasmuch as I have checked them from Soviet, anti-Soviet, and neutral sources I believe them to be approximately correct. It is worthy of note in this connection that in the white terror in southern Finland alone, according to official figures, Gen. Mannerheim executed without trial 12,000 working men and women. Order.
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