﻿324 
  ANNUAL 
  EEPORT 
  SMITHSONIAN 
  INSTITUTION, 
  1927 
  

  

  finest 
  piece 
  of 
  workmanship 
  I 
  ever 
  saw 
  — 
  made 
  by 
  Oskar 
  Wisting 
  

   on 
  the 
  Maud, 
  and 
  a 
  big 
  canvas 
  boat. 
  Two 
  men 
  among 
  the 
  personnel, 
  

   Amundsen 
  and 
  Wisting, 
  had 
  the 
  distinction 
  of 
  having 
  been 
  at 
  the 
  

   South 
  Pole, 
  and 
  now 
  both 
  were 
  en 
  route 
  for 
  the 
  North 
  Pole. 
  

  

  Our 
  provisions 
  for 
  the 
  voyage 
  consisted 
  of 
  pemmican, 
  chocolate, 
  

   oat 
  biscuits, 
  and 
  dry 
  milk, 
  sufficient 
  to 
  last 
  16 
  men 
  two 
  months, 
  with 
  a 
  

   daily 
  ration 
  of 
  500 
  grams 
  for 
  each 
  man. 
  On 
  the 
  walls 
  of 
  the 
  cabin 
  

   hung 
  the 
  pictures 
  of 
  Norway's 
  King 
  and 
  Queen, 
  which 
  had 
  been 
  

   presented 
  to 
  the 
  Fram 
  expedition 
  to 
  the 
  South 
  Pole 
  in 
  1910, 
  an 
  

   image 
  of 
  the 
  Madonna, 
  which 
  the 
  Italians 
  had 
  brought 
  with 
  them, 
  

   and 
  a 
  four-leaf 
  clover 
  given 
  to 
  the 
  ship 
  by 
  Major 
  Scott, 
  who 
  piloted 
  

   the 
  British 
  airship 
  R. 
  SIj. 
  across 
  the 
  Atlantic. 
  In 
  the 
  keel 
  hung 
  the 
  

   flags 
  of 
  Norway, 
  the 
  United 
  States, 
  and 
  Italy, 
  to 
  be 
  dropped 
  on 
  the 
  

   North 
  Pole. 
  

  

  To 
  those 
  of 
  us 
  who 
  made 
  that 
  first 
  crossing 
  of 
  the 
  Polar 
  Sea 
  it 
  will 
  

   ever 
  be 
  " 
  life's 
  great 
  adventure," 
  for 
  in 
  all 
  human 
  experience, 
  never 
  

   before 
  has 
  man 
  traveled 
  so 
  fast 
  and 
  so 
  far 
  into 
  the 
  realm 
  of 
  the 
  

   unknown. 
  There 
  is 
  an 
  indefinable 
  something 
  about 
  such 
  an 
  experi- 
  

   ence, 
  where 
  illusion 
  and 
  reality 
  are 
  hauntingly 
  intermingled, 
  that 
  

   may 
  well 
  color 
  one's 
  whole 
  sentiment 
  of 
  existence 
  ever 
  after. 
  

  

  Two 
  hours 
  after 
  leaving 
  King's 
  Bay 
  we 
  found 
  ourselves 
  over 
  the 
  

   " 
  pack 
  ice." 
  What 
  weather 
  ! 
  The 
  sun 
  shone 
  brilliantly 
  out 
  of 
  a 
  sky 
  

   of 
  pure 
  turquoise, 
  and 
  the 
  whalelike 
  shadow 
  that 
  our 
  airship 
  cast 
  

   beneath 
  us 
  trailed 
  monotonously 
  across 
  a 
  glittering 
  snow 
  field, 
  un- 
  

   broken, 
  save 
  where 
  wind 
  and 
  tide 
  had 
  rifted 
  the 
  icy 
  surface 
  into 
  

   cracks 
  and 
  leads 
  of 
  open 
  water. 
  As 
  we 
  cruised, 
  three 
  white 
  whales 
  

   darted 
  under 
  the 
  protecting 
  shelf 
  of 
  an 
  ice 
  floe, 
  and 
  polar 
  bears, 
  

   diving 
  into 
  the 
  sheltering 
  leads, 
  sent 
  up 
  columns 
  of 
  spray 
  that 
  

   reflected 
  the 
  bright 
  sunshine, 
  frightened 
  at 
  the 
  sight 
  and 
  noise 
  of 
  

   the 
  weird 
  monster 
  that 
  took 
  to 
  the 
  air 
  instead 
  of 
  the 
  sea. 
  As 
  we 
  

   approached 
  latitude 
  83y2° 
  the 
  snow-crowned 
  peaks 
  of 
  Spitzbergen 
  

   merged 
  into 
  the 
  deepening 
  blue 
  of 
  the 
  southern 
  sky, 
  losing 
  their 
  

   identity; 
  and 
  ail 
  signs 
  of 
  life 
  vanished. 
  Intermittent 
  light 
  fogs 
  

   hid 
  the 
  ice 
  from 
  our 
  view, 
  rolling 
  beneath 
  us 
  like 
  a 
  great 
  woollen 
  

   ocean. 
  Approaching 
  88° 
  we 
  had 
  to 
  rise 
  from 
  1,800 
  feet 
  to 
  more 
  than 
  

   3,000 
  in 
  order 
  to 
  get 
  over 
  it. 
  

  

  Latitude 
  87° 
  44' 
  — 
  what 
  memories 
  ! 
  The 
  motors 
  were 
  slowed 
  

   down 
  in 
  commemoration 
  of 
  our 
  sojourn 
  there 
  the 
  year 
  previous, 
  

   although 
  we 
  were 
  passing 
  50 
  miles 
  to 
  the 
  eastward 
  of 
  the 
  exact 
  

   spot 
  where 
  we 
  had 
  been 
  frozen 
  in. 
  It 
  is 
  difficult 
  to 
  separate 
  days 
  

   and 
  nights 
  in 
  this 
  latitude 
  in 
  the 
  summer 
  months, 
  for 
  the 
  sun 
  swings 
  

   around 
  the 
  horizon 
  at 
  practically 
  the 
  same 
  altitude 
  during 
  the 
  entire 
  

   24 
  hours. 
  As 
  our 
  Greenwich 
  chronometer 
  here 
  told 
  us 
  that 
  we 
  had 
  

   been 
  out 
  16% 
  hours, 
  the 
  time 
  was 
  really 
  1.30 
  a. 
  m. 
  By 
  May 
  12 
  

  

  