During the warm days of summer, we often take house guests to visit the vacation home of Admiral Robert Peary on Eagle Island in Casco Bay, where he and his wife, Josephine, and their children spent many happy hours. So it seemed entirely fitting to trek to Brunswick through ice and snow on one of this winter’s coldest days to visit the Peary-MacMillan Arctic Museum in Hubbard Hall on the Bowdoin College campus.

The museum celebrates the achievements of Peary, who, according to his own words, “nailed the Stars and Stripes to the North Pole” on April 6, 1909, one hundred years ago, and it does an outstanding job of portraying the tremendous effort and courage it took to reach the Pole.

Peary graduated from Bowdoin College in 1877 with a degree in civil engineering, and joined the U.S. Navy Civil Engineers Corps in 1881. He began his Arctic expeditions with a trip to the Greenland ice cap in 1888 and from then on concentrated his efforts on being the first to reach the North Pole.

The museum has a wonderful model of his ship, the “Roosevelt,” fitted out at the McKay and Dix shipyard on Maine’s Verona Island, using detailed plans provided by Peary. It had a rounded hull to allow the ship to ride up when squeezed by drifting ice and the bow was wedge-shaped with a pronounced rake to permit the ship to force its way through solid ice. It was a steam vessel but also had sails in case the ship ran low on fuel during extended voyages. All living quarters were on deck instead of below, to improve the morale of crew members forced to live through many cold, dark months. The chief engineer was George Wardwell of Bucksport, who wrote in his journal every day despite long hours coping with many crises, such as putting out engine fires and rebuilding boilers. His account offers us the best and most interesting record of life aboard this ship.

A fascinating crew member was Matthew Henson, a black man born in Maryland in 1866. He joined the ship on Peary’s first trip to Greenland and became an invaluable member of the team, learning to speak Inuktitut, the language of the Inuit, like a native, and serving as interpreter. He became proficient in hunting for food (polar bears and walrus!), building and driving sledges, handling the sled dogs, and setting up camp. He and four Inuit joined with Peary on the final push to the North Pole. In 1937, at age 71, after years of being ignored due to his race, Henson finally was invited to join the Explorers Club and, in 1944, Congress awarded him a medal for being a member of the North Pole expedition. A recorded interview at the museum shows an elderly Henson stating to an interviewer, “I’m 85 now, but if I were 70, I would take the chance” and return to the Arctic. Henson died in 1955 and was buried in the Bronx, but in 1988, his body was moved to Arlington National Cemetery, where he was reburied next to Admiral Peary.

Another poignant exhibit explores the life of Josephine, Peary’s wife and devoted helpmate. They were married in 1888 and she accompanied him on his first two expeditions, cooking for six men and enduring many hardships. Their daughter, Marie, was born in Greenland in September 1893. During the dreary dark months in the Arctic and the long years of separation from Peary on his later expeditions, she wrote three noteworthy books, “My Arctic Journal,” “The Snow Baby” and “Children of the Arctic.” She was deeply wounded by his relationship with an Inuit woman, Aleqasina, who bore him two children, including a son, Samak, born in 1901. Nevertheless, Josephine remained faithful to her husband and continued to support him and his endeavors. She died in 1955 and was buried next to Peary in Arlington National Cemetery. A great, granite globe with a bronze star indicating the North Pole, and a semicircle of Maine pines, decorate the site of their graves.

Portrait of a ship

Last spring, the Freeport Historical Society acquired a handsome painting of the ship “Tam O’Shanter,” a three-masted square-rigger. Built in Freeport and launched in 1875, the ship was the pride of the Soule fleet and made many round trips to San Francisco, China and Japan. It was known for its speed, one time, in 1895, making the voyage from Hong Kong to New York in only 95 days. After almost 25 years of service, the ship was wrecked while sailing through the Gaspar Straits that connect the Java Sea to the South China Sea.

Christina White, executive director of the historical society, decided to take advantage of Freeport residents’ great interest in the ship and organized a show, “The Lessons of the Tam O’Shanter,” that opened recently at the Harrington House, the society’s headquarters. It gives us a glimpse of life at sea in the 19th century using documents and artifacts such as journals, clothing, board games and even brass knuckles. In addition, for the next several months, the society is sponsoring a series of events exploring such subjects as maritime food on the high seas, and the life of a family on board ship.

We enjoyed an afternoon at the First Parish Church, listening to Bob Webb and Dave Peloquin in a program titled “We Go ‘Round Cape Horn – Sea Songs and Shanties Belonging to Maine.” Bob Webb explained that the Tam O’Shanter had no steam engines, so manpower was necessary to raise the anchor and the sails, and to man the pumps. Indeed, all the heavy jobs on board ship required muscle power provided by many men, pulling together. So the sea shanty, or chantey, was born, to keep the men moving together as a team. The performance was a delight – both men have lovely voices and play many instruments, including the banjo, tambourine and bones. Furthermore, they seemed to have an encyclopedic knowledge of sea shanties – often singing verse after verse – and added to our pleasure even more by describing and demonstrating exactly how the shanties were used aboard ship.