Chapter 12

THE CREW OF N 25LEFT TO RIGHT: RIISER-LARSEN, AMUNDSEN, FEUCHT

THE CREW OF N 25

LEFT TO RIGHT: RIISER-LARSEN, AMUNDSEN, FEUCHT

THE CREW OF N 24ELLSWORTH, DIETRICHSON, OMDAL

THE CREW OF N 24

ELLSWORTH, DIETRICHSON, OMDAL

It was now ten minutes past five. The motors were quite warm and Green nodded approvingly. Hissmile expressed complete satisfaction. A last handshake from Director Knutsen and then good-by. The motor was running at top speed as N 25 trembled and shook. The plan was that our machine should make the first start and try if possible to start out over the fjord with the wind in order to glide and swing at a low altitude between the fjord boundaries. If this were not successful we were to set our course direct against the wind, towards King’s Bay Glacier. It was also agreed that the machines should try to keep together during the entire flight. What the one did the other should do afterwards. One last pull and then N 25 was free and glided gracefully down the slide on to the frozen fjord. The trip was started. “Welcome back to-morrow,” was the last I heard as with tremendous speed—1,800 revolutions a minute—it set off towards the starting place in the middle of the fjord. There we noticed all at once that the ice was bending right over and the water surging up. In a second the machine was across the fjord heading straight for the glacier and making 2,000 revolutions. This was one of the most anxious moments. Could the machine bear the tremendous excess weight or must we stop and lighten it? The pilot sat at the wheel. Had he been seated at the breakfast table he could scarcely have looked less concerned. As the speed still continued, and we were nearing the glacier at a mighty rate, the pilot’s coolness seemedgreater than ever. His mouth was the only indication of his resolution and determination. We went over the ice like a hurricane. The speed continued and continued; then suddenly the miracle happened. With a mighty pull the machine raised itself from the earth. We were in the air. The master stroke was accomplished. It seemed to me after the breathless anxiety that I at last heard a light Ah! which grew into a ringing shout of joy.

PHOTOGRAPH OF AMUNDSEN’S MACHINE TAKEN FROM ELLSWORTH’S WHILE IN FLIGHT, SHORTLY BEFORE LANDING AND WITHIN 250 MILES OF THE POLE

After this calmness again took possession of the man who had performed this master stroke, and it left him no more during the whole trip. Feucht was always going up and down between the tank compartment and the motor; his duty was to keep the pilot advised of everything: how the engine worked: how much petrol had been used, etc. All seemed in the finest order and Feucht announced, “All clear.” Before we rose I had tried to get my things in order as the space was limited and my belongings numerous.

Over Cape Mitra we had already risen to 400 m. and everything beneath us seemed exceedingly small. Time after time I turned round and looked for the other machine, but never managed to discern it. Therefore we turned our plane completely round, flying back to look for N 24. One never knew what might have happened. It was possible that something had struck it as it tried to rise. The ice mighthave broken, or its load might have been too heavy for it. Suddenly something blazed in the sun; it glittered like gold. It was the sun playing on N 24’s wings. There it came in full flight to meet us. Everything seemed to be in order. Had I known then what I know now, I should have held my breath for a moment and taken off my hat to the man who sat at the wheel. But more about that later. Then the machine turned its nose again towards the north, and the two enormous birds started their flight together towards the “Unknown.”

My feelings at that moment were one whirl of burning gratitude. I gave a bow and a grateful glance to the man sitting behind me who had accomplished this brilliant master stroke—a warm silent thank-you to those who had just joined us; a thank-you so deep and so heartfelt to my five comrades, who have all willingly placed their lives upon the scales—a thank-you because the heavy yoke was at last lifted from my shoulders (the disdainful scorn which I had been forced to feel so many times during the last year of constant misfortune had disappeared for ever). Even if we fell right down now where we were this proof of our earnestness could nevermore be taken away.

We passed quickly over the northwest coast of Spitzbergen, where the sea below us was entirely free from ice. Then we reached Magdalena Bay, theSouth Gate with the Moss Islands, and then came the Danske Öen. I knew them all again from my trip with Gjoa in 1901. After an hour’s flight we were level with the Amsterdam Islands. Here we met most unpleasant weather. Fog as thick as porridge. First it came densely, thickeningly, from the northeast—then thicker—thicker. The pilot rose higher and we were flying above the woolen blanket. The other machine accompanied us at a somewhat lower altitude. Here I saw the strangest optical illusion I have ever seen and nothing seems to me to have ever equaled it in beauty. Directly pictured in the fog I could see a complete reflection of our own machine surrounded by a halo of all the spectrum’s colors. The sight was miraculously beautiful and original.

We took our bearings from the Amsterdam Islands and steered north for Taakeheimen. Here the fog came down quite unexpectedly. We had not looked for it so quickly, nor such a big stretch of it; it was certainly not local, but a field of colossal dimensions lay before us. For two complete hours we flew over it; a stretch of fully 200 kilometers. Occasionally we passed over a little break or hole in it, but never big enough to give me an opportunity to take my bearings. These holes were of great interest. Through them I got an idea of the territory below. The sea here was filled with small ice with wateramongst it. These conditions continued to 82° n. and I am certain that a vessel with any power at all could have navigated it. A little after eight o’clock it began suddenly to clear and in a second the fog disappeared as though charmed. And there below us and in front of us lay the great shining plain of the notorious pack-ice. “How many misfortunes have you been responsible for during the passage of years, you vast ‘Whiteness’? What have you not seen in the way of need and misery? And you have also met those who set their foot upon your neck and brought you to your knees. Can you remember Nansen and Johansen? Can you remember the Duke of the Abruzzi? Can you remember Peary? Can you remember how they crossed over you and how you put obstacles in their way? But they brought you to your knees. You must respect these heroes. But what have you done with the numbers who sought to free themselves from your embrace in vain? What have you done with the many proud ships which were steered direct towards your heart never to be seen again? What have you done with them I ask? No clew, no sign—only the vast white waste.”

Quite naturally an airman’s thoughts turn towards a landing place. Should his motor fail and he has no place to land, he is indeed in a bad way. But no matter where we looked there was not the sign of a landing place. So far as we could see the ice lookedlike a number of furrows, stretched out without rhyme or reason, and between the furrows rose a high stone fence. Conditions however were unusual, the fence took up more room than the plowed field. Had the field been even and flat it would not have appeared so strange, but a flat part simply did not exist. The plow seemed to have been everywhere between stones and stubble. A little brook was also there, but so small that one could have jumped over it anywhere. A more monotonous territory it had never been my lot to see. Not the slightest change. Had I not been engaged in making many kinds of observations and notes it is certain that the uniformity of the outlook and the monotony of the engine’s hum would have sent me to sleep, but fortunately my task kept me awake. Riiser-Larsen confessed to me later that he had had a little snooze. I can understand that as he had monotonous work to do.

The mean temperature during the flight had been -13 °c. N 24 kept beside us with no thought of separating. I tried continually to take the sun but unsuccessfully. The sun was all right, but the horizon was useless. Our plane level was fastened to the sextant (a bulb sextant, of American make). We had used it several times at a trial in King’s Bay, but the results were most unsatisfactory, so much so that we had stopped using it. Therefore I was left to use whatever nature placed at my disposal. But naturewas not obliging. There was no horizon. Sky and ice blended into one.

Two hours after I had taken soundings at the Amsterdam Islands I got an opportunity to calculate our speed and the deviation. What had happened in two hours? It was exceedingly difficult to say. If one does not get an opportunity to calculate speed and the deviation it is naturally difficult to know the direction of the wind when one comes flying at a speed of 150 kilometers. It was quite clear as we came out of the fog with a few high cirri in the east. About ten o’clock a fine mist crept up from the north, but too high and fine to annoy one. The sun was not quite visible, but from the sun’s position and the compass’s variations it was quite clear that we were well over to the west. There was therefore nothing else to do but to steer eastwards. I have never seen anything more deserted and forlorn; at least I thought we might see a bear or anything to break the monotony a little, but no,—absolutely nothing living. Had I been sure of this condition before, I would have taken a flea with me in order to have life near.

At five o’clock on the morning of the 22nd we came to the first waterway. It was not a small brook but a big dam with arms stretching in different directions. It offered our first possibility of finding a landing place. According to our bearings we should now be 88° N. lat., but with regard to longitude we were quiteconfused. That we were westerly was certain, but where? Feucht announced here that half the benzine was used so it became necessary to look for a landing place. Our intention was, therefore, to descend, take the necessary observations, and act in the best way according to the conditions. The question now was where should we land? Naturally a landing on the water would have been safest, so far as the landing was concerned, but there was always the fear that the ice could close in and crush us before we were able to rise again. We decided unanimously that if it were possible we should land on the ice. In order to observe the territory as conveniently as possible we descended in big spirals. During these maneuvers the aft motor began to misfire and changed the whole situation. Instead of choosing a place now we would have to take what offered. The machine was much too heavy to remain in the air with one motor. A forced landing became necessary. At this low altitude we could not reach the main dam, but had to be satisfied with the nearest arm. It was not particularly inviting—full of slush and small ice. But we had no choice. Under such conditions it was worth much to have a cool unruffled pilot who never lost his self-possession, but even in flight was able to make a clear decision and act accordingly. The slightest wobbling and the game would have been lost. The arm was just wide enough for the machine so it was not sodangerous. Every clump of ice could have torn it through; the danger lay in the high icebergs which lay at each side. It took a master to guide the machine in between these and save the wings. We landed squat in the slush and here arose the most difficult problem any airman could have to solve. It was a piece of luck for us that we landed in the slush, for that slowed down our speed somewhat. But on the other hand it reduced the boat’s maneuvering powers. We were passing a small iceberg on the right. The machine turned to the left with the result that the wings stroked the top of the iceberg and loose snow was whirled in the air. Here we zig-zagged along in a manner which was most impressive and alarming. Can we clear it? The anxiety was great for those who were only spectators; it seemed not to have the slightest effect on the pilot; he was quite cool and calm. When I say we cleared the iceberg by two millimeters it is no exaggeration. I expected every moment to see the left wing destroyed. The speed now slackened in the thick slush and we stopped at the end of the arm—nose up against the iceberg. It was again a question of millimeters. A little more speed and the nose would have been stove in.

So far so good. We had still our lives—what did this place look like? The arm ended in a little pool surrounded by high icebergs and with nose againstthis we lay with our tail towards the entrance. We hopped out on the ice and looked around. What was to be done? Only one thing. To try and get out as quickly as possible. Should the ice freeze together we were sentenced to death in five minutes. What was necessary now was to turn the machine round 180°. I must say we put all our force into the work and tried in different ways, but all in vain. The slush and small ice stuck fast to the boat and it lay as if in glue. If we managed to free the boat a few inches the slush went with it. If we got rid of that the boat fell back into its old position, and then so did the slush. Oh, how we struggled and strove. But after the space of a few hours we had to put that plan aside and take on another. But first we must find out where we were. Our observations gave 87° 43′ N. lat. and 10° 20′ L. Our presumption that there was a westerly current proved to be correct.

At eight o’clockA.M.we decided we had earned a little food and rest. But before we could gratify this need there were two things to be done. First to take all the provisions and equipment on to the big ice, in case the ice should begin to screw. Also we must look around to see if our comrades on N 24 were in sight. The small quantity of provisions that we had were shifted onto the ice in a few minutes, and then we set off with glasses to take observations from the top of the highest iceberg. We thought we hadheard a shot after we had landed, but we were not certain. There are so many noises like shots amongst the ice. The last I saw of N 24 just before our landing was that it was flying very low on the other side of the dam. If I was right we must look for it in a southerly direction, but everywhere we looked there was nothing to be seen. The mist now lay somewhat lower than when we landed and a few snowflakes came whirling along. The temperature was about -15° c. I had never looked upon our machine before as a dwelling but that must be done now. It was divided into five rooms. The first, the observer’s room, was too small for occupation. No. 2, the pilot’s place, offered the best sleeping room for one or two men. No. 3, the petrol store, was full of tanks and could not be used. Room No. 4 was the best of them and we decided to make it a dining room and sleeping room. It was four meters long diminishing in width towards the tail. I assume that the builder had never thought of it as a dining room when he built it, but certain it is that it seemed absolutely prepared for that purpose. At all times our Primus apparatus got a good position here. Room No. 5 lay right in the tail and you entered it through a round door in the wall. It was long, small, and dark, as it had no window. As a bedroom for one man it might have been used had it not been for the ribs which converged tightly here. In the dining room we set ourPrimus going and soon had our first meal of chocolate and biscuits. It was comfortable in here so long as we could keep it warm and this was easy in the beginning while we still trusted and hoped that our stay should be short. We had brought with us some small petrol apparatus called Therm’x and with these we kept the temperature fine and high.

I cannot pass by our friend Therm’x without giving him a good word. How it is constructed I cannot say and it will not interest many. But what will interest most people is the fact that with one liter of petrol this apparatus will give out considerable heat for twelve hours. In addition to this it is absolutely fireproof. It gives a glowing heat, but burns without a flame. You could pour petrol over it whilst it functioned, yet nothing would result except smoke and an unpleasant smell. For a trip like ours where we were surrounded by benzine it was a priceless possession. Add to this its astonishing economy and it is not necessary to say more. Two Therm’xs made each room quite cozy, but as events will show even Therm’x had afterwards to be used sparingly and our cozy corners were cozy no longer. Riiser-Larsen, unselfish as ever, took up his quarters in the tail. How he managed to bear four weeks in it puzzles me. He must still have five blue stripes exactly like the five tail ribs! Feucht had his place in the dining room, and I mine in the pilot’s room. We did not rest long atfirst, for at ten o’clock we were in full swing again. We tried once more to turn the machine round, but soon gave it up for another plan, namely, to get the machine into safety as quickly as possible, for without any warning the fissure might close up and crush us like a nut between nut-crackers. To guard against this we decided to place it on top of the iceberg which lay beside us. It seemed a hopeless task at first, but it meant much. Firstly, part of the iceberg must come down, for a slide to be made. “But however could we accomplish that task?” asked one. Yes, that is the question. When we left we had 500 kilos too much on board and therefore must deny ourselves many things. To carry with us a number of ice tools, which we might never need, was out of the question. We had only calculated with landing on, and rising from, suitable ice. No one had dreamed of the present situation. We looked at our available tools: three slip knives, one big knife, one ax, one ice-anchor, which in time of need could be used as a pick. It is unbelievable what people can do when they are driven to it. There was only one way to get the machine into safety—and for that the iceberg must come down and be leveled and it would appear that we only had our fingers to do it with. Wholly inexperienced in work of this kind, we were rather clumsy in the beginning, but we were willing and incredibly persevering and were lucky enough to get the better ofthe situation. Later we managed to level an iceberg in a fabulously short time, but at present we were unused to the work and it went slowly. From time to time during our work we went up to the top of the machine, or to the top of an iceberg, and looked around to find the others. Anything might have happened in such a morass, and at lunch time we discussed the various probabilities. Had they made a bad landing? Had they decided that it was hopeless to land in this chaos?

The next day we got ready to march to Cape Columbia. The sledge was secured and put ready so that we, with the shortest possible warning, could set off if the ice should close in and crush the machine. Our provisions were sufficient to last for a month giving 1 kilo per man per day. As soon as we saw our situation was serious we began quickly to take less and in a short time our ration was reduced to 300 grammes per day. It was naturally too little for any length of time, but for a shorter period would suffice. We all felt very weak after the first day, but it appeared that we could get used to it. We got noticeably thinner, tightening our belts every day. My belt, which had often been too tight in King’s Bay, was now too slack even when worn outside my thick leather clothes. Our sleeping equipment consisted of one light reindeer skin bag, only designed for summer use. Most of us grumbled at the cold in the beginning,as the temperature remained about -10° c., but one must have practice in using a sleeping bag, and one must understand it in order to pass in it what turns out to be a warm balmy night, while another person without experience freezes. It is necessary to take plenty of time and to work oneself right down to the bottom when getting into a sleeping bag, for one can often see people who have no knowledge of these things, only halfway wriggled in, and naturally they pass an uncomfortable night.

On the 23rd we were able to cross the new frozen ice into the pool. We were early at work that day and kept on hacking at the slide. During a little interval I took the glasses, climbed to the top of the machine in order to look round after N 24. Who can describe my pleasure as I, almost with the first glance, observed it? South-west, on the other side of the great dam, there it lay looking quite cheeky. A little to the left stood the tent. And still a little further away, on the top of a high iceberg, a flag. This was pleasant news for my comrades and in haste we hoisted our flag. Anxiously I followed progress through my glasses to see if they were observing us. Yes, right enough, in a few moments I saw signs of life. They sprang to the flag, caught hold of it and in a few moments we had a means of communication, as fortunately our two pilots were practiced signalers. The distance between us was too great for semaphoring,so we had to use the Morse system. Apart from the fact that it took a little longer, everything went splendidly. Dietrichson announced that his machine on leaving King’s Bay had started an ugly leak, but that he had hoped all the same to be able to manage. We could tell them that our machine was absolutely undamaged. No further announcements were made. We went on with our work on the slide all day.

WHEN THE TWO PLANES WERE NEAR EACH OTHER

The 24th was given up to the same work. Most of the ice was as hard as flint and it took us a long time to work through it. In the afternoon I discovered suddenly through my glasses that there was an unusual stir on the other side. I could see them jumping backwards and forwards, preparing to do something or other. An hour later they put skis on; slung two heavy packages on their backs and set off towards us. It was just what I had wished to happen, though I had not expressed my wish so long as they were working at their machine. If they were able, by some means, to get their boat clear for a start, I naturally had no desire to hinder them. We could well have done with their assistance in our work of saving our machine, but, so long as they had their own work to do, we could not ask for help. I watched them anxiously through the glasses, noting their mode of approach through the icebergs (let me make it clear that they had very heavy packages on their backs), and I did not like the direction they took.They set their course directly towards the new frozen ice in the dam and I doubted its solidity. Certainly the ice in the little fissure was strong enough, but the ice on the great dam was a different matter. I held my breath as they descended from the old ice towards the new. Things could go wrong and prove fatal. Fortunately they were sufficiently foresighted to stay on the old ice; to my relief they kept to it, coming straight across and throwing off their packages. I thought they were going to rest a few moments, but was pleasantly surprised when they produced two flags and started semaphoring. It was not long before Riiser-Larsen was also on the job and the conversation started. They told us that they could not get their machine clear away alone and asked if they should come over and join us. As they apparently intended to cross the new ice, we hastily answered that it was better for them to turn back and consider matters a little, arranging to continue semaphoring the next morning at ten o’clock. With a sigh of relief I saw them go on to the old ice again.

A NEW LEAD OPENING IN THE ICE

GETTING READY FOR A FRESH START

On May 25th we managed to get our machine onto the slide so that the heavy end lay on the old ice. This was a great advantage, as any screwing which might take place would only push us higher up into complete safety. At ten o’clock the next morning we semaphored again. Dietrichson announced that conditions were better over there. In reply we askedthem if they were finished with their work to come and help us. I would rather have seen them set off immediately, but such a course would have hindered their own work. While we chatted a big seal head suddenly appeared from a little fissure. I was astonished. Seals in 88° N. Lat. I had not expected to find.

With a satisfied feeling we drank our chocolate that evening. Our condition was much better. If we were not in absolute safety, we still had found a way to work clear. Our stay on the waterway had been a nightmare. High icebergs grinned down on us the whole time.

The 26th was a busy day. It dawned overshadowed; with a temperature of -10° c. The ice on both sides of the great dam had been moving a good deal during the night and both machines were driven nearer each other. We could thus quite easily see everything that happened in the other camp. We worked as usual on the slide and hoped in course of the day to raise the machine absolutely. At threeP.M.there was great excitement on the other side and we thought at once that they were crossing to us. The great dam had become considerably smaller during the night; we looked at the old ice with large round eyes as we saw the people from N 24 coming round it towards us. We thought that they would have a dreary march of several hours, so we got on with our work in the meantime.

Who can describe my surprise when some one suddenly said, “Look, there they are!” Twenty minutes after leaving their resting place they had nearly reached us. Two hundred yards away we could see them working their way between the icebergs. We knew, however, that they could not come straight over, as there was a little fissure lying between us and them. Riiser-Larsen and I left our work, took the canvas boat, and went to meet them. We had scarcely set the boat on the water when Riiser-Larsen got into it to cross and fetch one of the advancing party. As he broke his way through the thin ice, I stood on the old ice and waited, when I was alarmed by a ringing shriek; a shriek which went to my marrow and made my hair stand up on end. It was followed by a number of cries, each one more alarming and terrifying than the last. I had not the slightest doubt but that a drama of the most horrible kind was being played on the other side of the iceberg. A man was in danger of drowning. There I must stand and listen to it without being able to raise a finger to help him. The situation seemed hopeless. The dying cries got less and I thought to myself, “Yes, now all is over. How many of them and who?” Just then came a head from the back of the iceberg. “Fortunately all three are not drowned.” One appeared and then another one joined him; then all three were there. To say I was glad is a mild expression. Thetwo first shook themselves like dogs, but the third conducted himself normally. Riiser-Larsen carried them quickly over the fissure. Dietrichson and Omdal were wet to the skin, but Ellsworth was dry. We got them quickly on board the boat and their wet clothes were changed for dry ones.

To burn in the Primus stove, I had been clever enough to bring spirits of wine with me, and smiled slyly to myself over my farsightedness. As they arrived their teeth chattered so that they could not speak, a fact which was quite understandable, as falling into icy water and having to remain in a temperature of -10° c. for ten minutes afterwards, while a fresh little breeze is blowing, is enough to freeze one’s marrow. A dram of 97 p. c. possibly saved them from unpleasant consequences. A cup of steaming chocolate performed wonders, butittook twenty minutes to get ready, while the dram was ready at once. The work at eventide was stopped and we gathered in the little dining room to hear each others’ news. As the three left their camp at threeP.M.with their packages of forty kilos weight, they had fastened lifebelts on and put skis on their feet without fastening the lashings. When they found that the old ice was difficult to negotiate on account of small open cracks, they decided it would be better to link hands and cross the new ice. The result was better than one might have expected and they got safely near to the old ice. Butthat lay onourside, and in such a condition that they preferred to continue on the new ice. Omdal went first, then Dietrichson, and last Ellsworth. The first to break through was Dietrichson, in fact one could hardly use the word “break,” as “sink” suits the situation better. The slush is very treacherous, it disappears underneath without a sound. When Dietrichson fell through he quite reasonably gave a loud cry and Omdal turned round to see what was wrong. In the same moment he himself fell through, and both lay there. Without a thought and with brilliant presence of mind Ellsworth rushed to them, pulled Dietrichson out and together they ran to Omdal. It was in the last moment that they reached him, loosened his rucksack, and hauled him out. He had stuck his nails into the ice and held on with the greatest desperation, but it did not help him much as the current carried his legs under the ice and threatened to draw him under if help had not come to him in the last moment. Lincoln Ellsworth was later decorated with the Medal for Bravery by H. M. the King and no one who wears it has earned it more bravely. There is no doubt that by his action he saved the whole expedition as later experience showed us; for without the power of six men the N 25 could never have got home.

And now we got Dietrichson’s story of his departure from King’s Bay; notwithstanding the fact thathe knew a large part of the bonnet had been torn open he decided to continue the flight in order not to restrain N 25, which was already in the air. He thought it was better to risk life than to stop the trip. I know there are people who will shrug their shoulders and say “Idiotic.” I take off my hat and say, “Courage—splendid, brilliant, indomitable Courage. Oh! if only we had a number of such men.”

When N 24 saw us land they prepared to follow suit, but as Dietrichson knew that the water would surge in as soon as he came down, he sought a landing place on the old ice whence he thought he could raise his machine. To land on it he found was impossible, but he managed to land half on the old ice and thereby saved the situation. A quantity of the material they carried got wet and everything was hung out to dry. It sounds strange to speak of drying things in -10° c., but when they were hung on the dark gray wall of the machine they did not take long. From this moment all six of us took up quarters on board the N 25. Dietrichson and Omdal went into the mess with Feucht, Ellsworth in the pilot’s room with me. It was not a wonderful place that we had, but in 80 °N. Lat. one is not so particular. The three in the mess must each evening lay skis on the floor in order to have something to lie on.

On the 24th of May the six of us finished the work of bringing the machine into safety. How lightlyand pleasantly it went, now that we were all together. The thought of what might have happened to the others had often proved detrimental to progress. Now we worked on amidst laughter and song and no one could have believed that we were prisoners in Nature’s most solid prison. In the beginning we three had only had one goal before us, namely, to raise N 25 onto the nearest solid ice. The slide was ready, but until the others joined us we had not managed to raise the machine. Now we broadened our plans arranging to bring the machine to a floe which we had examined and discovered to be safe and solid. In order to reach it it was necessary to get the machine across an intermediate floe. To do this we found it would be necessary to negotiate some small icebergs and unevenesses, and to fill up two ditches or trenches two meters wide. Our first work therefore was to get the machine on the slide. What we three had found difficult was easy for six men to accomplish; it was not only the addition of physical power, but also the knowledge that we were re-united, and it seemed that nothing could stop us as the machine glided out on the first floe. We were all pleased and satisfied. We believed we could make great progress in this frame of mind. How hopeless much of this work appeared to be when we started, but self-confidence and unity quickly changed the prospects. Riiser-Larsen was a builder of bridges and roads.He seemed to have done no other kind of work in all his life than what he was doing now. The two holes were filled up, the whole place was evened out, and at 8P.M.to the sound of loud hurrahs we glided on the thick solid floe where we felt absolutely safe, or as safe as we could. Casting the lead the following day gave us 3,750 meters. Adding to this the fact that we had reached 88° 30 N. Lat. when we landed I believe that we confirmed Peary’s observations that no land exists in the northern sector of the Arctic Ocean. But this cannot be absolutely decided until some one flies over. The evening of the 29th the dam closed considerably and the distance now between the two boats could scarcely be more than 1 kilo as the crow flies. In the evening Dietrichson, Ellsworth, Feucht and Omdal went over to see if it would be possible to bring petrol back with them, but the ice was moving and they had to make a long detour to get back again. They tried to bring one petrol can with them, but were forced to leave it on the ice. “As soon as we have got two cans of petrol here,” said I in my diary, “we shall start for Spitzbergen. By our bearings we can take it for granted that the territory from here to the Pole is just the same—drift-ice and again drift-ice. And what should we do there? Substantiate the existence of land. But what is in that? Nothing—it is not worth while. But—perhaps it will be possible tofind a place to rise from here. The prospects are not too good but conditions can change quickly.”

The next day passed and we succeeded in bringing the petrol in safety to our own floe. Later at eventide Dietrichson and Omdal crossed to N 24 to bring back most of the provisions and equipment which had been left there. The temperature was rising steadily, and was now about -6° c. By the 1st of June we had let the new frozen ice get an opportunity to set and become strong enough for a track. That day we tested its thickness and found that it was eight inches (solid enough for our purpose). As soon as we discovered this condition we started to level the track; it was not so easy as one might think. Although the new frozen ice was fine and level in long stretches there were places where the old ice had taken the liberty of mingling with the new and upsetting conditions entirely. Here the floe was on the slant, with ditches and unevenesses, which gave us much hard work, but it was necessary to get the machine down from the height above to the new ice. For this a slide was necessary. It is difficult to calculate how much we hacked away and how much we filled in, before we completed the work, but it was many tons of ice and snow. By twilight we had finished the track and the slide.

Early the next day we prepared to make ready. Everything must be in good order. Everything musthave its place and be properly secured. When we rise nothing must be faulty. By 2:15P.M.the engine was warm and ready to start. Riiser-Larsen was in the pilot’s seat, Feucht beside the motor. We four others stood by, ready to either push off or haul in the seaplane just as circumstances demanded. Here began a new task—to maneuver the seaplane amidst deep loose snow. When I call this work wearisome I think I have used the right term. While at first the work was particularly heavy, later, when we had had more practice, it was easier, but the whole time it was “weary.” Our first attempt was unsuccessful as the thin ice could not carry us. We broke through almost at once, breaking the ice on the greater part of the area. The track was about 500 yards long ending in old screw ice. As we had neared the end of this we turned the machine round preparatory to starting in the opposite direction in the pool which we had broken up. But, as it is said, “the traveler meets many obstacles,” and I think this applies particularly to any one who lands with a flying machine amidst the Polar ice. Hardly had we swung the seaplane round than thick fog descended like a wall. We could scarcely see from fore to aft, far less think of flying through the fog at a speed of 110 kilometers. “Therefore, my friend, cover yourself with patience,—the explorer’s indispensable salve.” We arranged to watch and to sleep—it was ten o’clock.

Feucht was keeping watch; he passed the time in pushing the machine backwards and forwards in the mushy water to prevent it from being frozen in. I got quite used to the crackling noise of the ice breaking against the sides and in the end I slept to this music. I had slept for an hour, I think, when I was suddenly awakened by a terrific shout—“Come out, every one, the ice is closing in!” I knew that Riiser-Larsen’s voice and tone were not to be mistrusted. Here was danger ahead. There were cracklings and smashings all around and I expected every moment to see the sides stove in like a concertina. In a rush Ellsworth and I dived for our shoes, the only things we took off during our stay amongst the ice. When I say “in a rush” it is only relatively speaking. For a rush was impossible in our circumstances. The pilot’s room offered good sleeping accommodation for two people if they went to bed quietly and carefully. There were so many uprights, struts, and pipes that our bedroom had the appearance of a birdcage. The making of a miscalculated movement landed one against a pipe or a strut, sometimes both. In addition to this one could not stand at full height. To speak of a rush under such conditions is therefore stupid. The sight which met us when we put our heads through the trap-door was interesting, but not altogether inviting. It was interesting to note how much four desperate men can straighten out.The pool we had made was now covered with ice in the center of which N 25 was stuck. The pressure was tremendous and a catastrophe seemed unavoidable. Gathering all his strength, Riiser-Larsen sprang like a tiger. He jumped high in the air in order to land anywhere on the ice which jammed the seaplane. The result was always the same. The ice broke under him without resistance. Omdal had got hold of a tool (I don’t know which one) and helped his comrade splendidly with its aid. Larsen pushed for all he was worth against the seaplane’s nose and tried to free it from the ice pressure. By this united work they managed to loosen the machine about 45° and thereby lighten the pressure against the sides. In the meantime Ellsworth and I were occupied in putting the provisions and equipment on the old ice. We were masters of the situation at last, but it was a near thing that time.

To return to our old quarters was unthinkable, so we looked round for a safe place somewhere else. We lay in a favorable position for crossing to N 24 and decided it might be wise to pursue this course. There was a possibility that we might reach it by way of the new ice, but this seemed unlikely after our last experience. However we would try our best to get over because it would be an advantage to be able to use N 24’s petrol without transporting it. Moreover it appeared that conditions acrossthere were calmer and offered a safer resting place. That this was not the case we shall see later.

Thus we began again to hack and to level and by breakfast time the track was finished. Exactly as though we ourselves had dispersed it the fog lifted, and we could soon start. This reminds me of an amusing occurrence, amusing for others, but not exactly for me. On account of the small accommodation in the machines it was necessary for us always to move about in tabloid form, bent, drawn together and compact. The result of this was cramp, sometimes in the legs, in the thighs, in the stomach, in the back. These attacks came on at the most inopportune moments and the martyr was a never-failing object of general amusement. Everything was ready that morning for departure and I suddenly remembered my glasses which I had forgotten in the mess and which I now rushed to fetch. But it was a mistaken move on my part. My first hasty jerk gave me cramp in both thighs with the result that I could not move from the spot. I heard titters and giggles and notwithstanding the infernal pain I could not do otherwise than join in the general amusement.

The second start was not more fortunate than the first. The ice broke all the way and N 25 became famous as an icebreaker. One good result came from it, however, namely, that we got near to the other machine. That presented a sad appearance as it laythere lonely and forlorn with one wing high in the air, and the other down on the ice. They had been lucky enough to get its nose up on to a grade of the old ice floe, but the tail lay right out in the ice.

The conditions here seemed quite promising. We had an open waterway about 400 meters long with fine new ice quite near. The third attempt to start was undertaken the same afternoon but without result. We decided to join up the waterway and the new ice. It was possible that the great speed one could attain on the waterway would carry one up onto the ice and if that happened there was a big chance of rising in the air as the track would then have become about 700 meters long. At 2A.M.on the 4th June we started the work, continuing all day. As by eventide we had got the track finished, down came the fog and prevented us from starting. A little later the ice got rather lively, beginning to screw during the night. Fortunately it was only the new-frozen ice, but even it was eight inches thick. There were pipings and singings all round us as the ice jammed against the machine. The methods and tools we now used were most original. Dietrichson armed himself with a four-yard-long aluminium pole with which he did wonderful work. Omdal used the film camera tripod, which was very heavy, ending in three iron-bound points. Every blow therefore was trebled and was most effective. Riiser-Larsen was the only onewho had brought rubber boots with him; these reached to his waist. As the ice encroached it was met by ringing blows. The battle against it continued the whole night and by morning we could once again look back upon a conquest. Meantime the old ice had crept up nearer to us. It now appeared as though the “Sphinx” was taking aim at us; this was an ugly forbidding iceberg, formed in the shape of the Sphinx. The movements of the ice had caused the sides of the waterway to set together and our starting place was ruined again. The fog lay thick on the 5th of June while fine rain was falling. The ice cracked and piped as though it would draw our attention to the fact that it still existed.Nowwhat should one do?

With his usual energy Riiser-Larsen had gone for a walk that afternoon amongst the icebergs accompanied by Omdal; they wished to see if they could find another place which could be converted into a starting place. They had already turned round to return home, as the fog was preventing them from seeing anything, when suddenly it lifted and there they stood in the center of the only plain which could be used. This was 500 meters square and not too uneven to be made level by a little work and patience. They came back happy and full of hope and shouted to the “Sphinx”: “You may be amused and smile even when others despair—even when the position ishopeless we still sing with pleasure aha! aha! aha! Things are improving day by day.”

The “Sphinx” frowned! It did not like this!

COLLECTING SNOW BLOCKS FOR A RUN-WAY

The way to the plain which the two men had found was both long and difficult, but we lived under conditions where difficulties frightened us no more. First of all the machine must be driven there—about 300 meters through new ice to a high old plain. Here we would have to hack out a slide to drive the machine up. From here the road crossed over to the Thermopylæ Pass, which was formed by two moderately sized icebergs, and ended in a three-yards-wide ditch over which the machine must be negotiated on to the next plain. On the other side one could see the last obstacle which must be overcome in the form of an old crack about five yards wide with sides formed of high icebergs and loose snow—rotten conditions to work in. Early on the morning of the 6th the work was started. After breakfast we took all our tools and attacked the old ice where the grade should be built. In order to get to this spot we had to pass round a corner which took us out of sight of N 25. Under general circumstances one would not have left the machine unattended, but conditions were otherwise than general and we had no man we could spare. Singing “In Swinemunde träumt man im Sand,” the popular melody associated with our comfortable days in Spitzbergen, weused our knives, axes, and ice-anchor to the best advantage, and fragments of ice flew in all directions. It is with pride and joy that I look back on these days, joy because I worked in company with such men, proud because our task was accomplished. Let me say quite frankly and honestly that I often regarded the situation as hopeless and impossible. Ice-walls upon ice-walls raised themselves up and had to be removed from our course; an unfathomable gulf seemed to yawn before us threatening to stop our progress. It had to be bridged by cheeky heroes who, never grumbling, tackled the most hopeless tasks with laughter and with song.

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