This is the life story of Matthew Henson, the Black explorer who went to the North Pole with Peary. The first-hand tales of Henson's Arctic exploits are told in straightforward prose, full of personal touches. One can almost see the twinkle in Henson's eye as he related these stories to listeners to whom the Arctic was as remote as the moon.

Henson was a key player on one Peary expedition after another from 1892 through 1909. He went with Peary virtually every step of the way on every expedition. Henson built sledges and other equipment, handled the dog teams, took his turn out in front by a day or more breaking trail, and, most importantly, developed a close working relationship with the Eskimos, whose assistance was the key to reaching the North Pole. Henson is not shy about his own contribution, and that view is supported by the three introductions to Dark Companion by Peary contemporaries MacMillan, Freuchen and Stefansson. These testimonials alone are reason enough to buy this book. MacMillan, a tenderfoot on the 1909 Peary expedition to the Pole and an Arctic explorer in his own right in later years, readily admitted that Peary took Henson to the pole because, with all of his experience and abilities he was the best man for the job. And Henson's courage -- whether pushing ahead with Peary despite lack of supplies, relying on hunting skills to avoid almost certain starvation, or facing constant danger from moving, crushing, and suddenly parting ice, or fighting walruses from kayaks -- is indisputable.

These Arctic accounts are available in other sources, including Henson's own book, a Negro Explorer at the North Pole, and books by Henson's fellow travelers, Peary, Bartlett, MacMillan and Borup. But only in Dark Companion can one read Henson's account of survival in another inhospitable environment —late 19th and early 20th century America.

The Arctic was a place where Henson could contribute his full potential. Not because Peary or his white companions were civil rights crusaders, but because the environment of the north simply demanded too much to afford the luxury of limiting any person's contributions on arbitrary racial grounds. By contrast, Henson's life outside the Arctic was a struggle against diminished expectations and unspoken slurs at best and outright racial hatred at worst. But in telling the story, Henson focuses on the exception, the kindness of the sea captain who tutored him and taught him to read, as the defining influence in his life.

Upon returning to America after Peary's expedition to the pole, Henson's contribution went largely unrecognized. In fact, critics openly attacked Peary for taking a Negro on the final leg of the North Pole dash. Early on, the argument, by Cook supporters, was raised that Peary must have taken Henson because he didn't want a "credible" witness. This, the argument goes, would leave Peary free to make phony claims, since Henson would presumably be either too stupid to contradict Peary, would not dare to contradict him, or would be ignored.

Henson continues to be caught in the crossfire of modern Peary critics. To discount the possibility that Peary might have chosen Henson on merit, critics routinely have referred to him as Peary's manservant or valet. Yet Peary listed Henson as an assistant. Henson was only a “valet” once, when surveying in Nicaragua. Some recent critics disparage Henson's lack of "full literacy" and analyze his every statement looking for inconsistencies to prove him a "liar." Henson's recounting of his adventures to Robinson, some 40 to 50 years after the fact, does, to be sure, contain some inconsistencies in the details. Still, one wonders why some critics readily excuse what might charitably be called far greater memory lapses in the accounts of “white men” while branding Henson’s misrecollections as lies. But Henson never wavered on the essentials: Henson, with all his expert sledding experience, was confident that the expedition had covered the necessary distance from the last navigational observation to the Pole.

One cannot find fault with Robinson's editorial decision to let Henson's recollections speak for him. The opportunity to get Henson's detailed story, under oath, subject to cross examination, while it was fresh in his mind, was passed up when Congress, in its investigation of Peary's claim, did not bother to call Henson as a witness. History will never recover for that shameful oversight, and Robinson could not repair the damage.

This book is not about whether Henson actually stood at the pole, or only 5 or 20 miles from it. It is about one man's decision to be shaped by what was positive in his life. It is about having the courage to face every conceivable danger to participate in a great enterprise on an even playing field. It is about the satisfaction of seeing one's talents and experience put to good use, and of being the one called upon when the need was greatest -- in short, a hero. It is an inspirational story.

Douglas R. Davies
April, 2002