THE DISCOVERY OF THE POLE 



907 



to make a forced march with a light 

 sledge, a double team of dogs, and one or 

 two of the party, leaving the rest in camp. 



Underlying all these calculations was 

 a recognition of the ever-present neigh- 

 borhood of open leads and impassable 

 water, and the knowledge that a twenty- 

 four hour gale would knock all my plans 

 into a cocked hat, and even put us in im- 

 minent peril. 



At a little after midnight of April i, 

 after a few hours of sound sleep, I hit 

 the trail, leaving the others to break up 

 camp and follow. As I climbed the pres- 

 sure ridge back of our igloos, I set 

 another hole in my belt, the third 

 since I started. Every man and dog of 

 us was lean and flat-bellied as a board, 

 and as hard. 



It was a fine morning. The wind of 

 the last two days had subsided, and the 

 going was the best and most equable of 

 any I had yet. The floes were large and 

 old, hard and clear, and were surrounded 

 by pressure ridges, some of which were 

 almost stupendous. The biggest of them, 

 however, were easily negotiated, either 

 through some crevice or up some huge 

 brink. 



I set a good pace for about ten hours. 

 Twenty-five miles took me well beyond 

 the 88th parallel. While I was build- 

 ing my igloos a long lead formed by the 

 east and southeast of us at a distance of 

 a few miles. 



A few hours' sleep and we were on the 

 trail again. As the going was now prac- 

 tically horizontal, we were unhampered 

 and could travel as long as we pleased 

 and sleep as little as we wished. The 

 weather was fine and the going like that 

 of the previous day, except at the begin- 

 ning, when pickaxes were required. 

 This and a brief stop at another lead 

 cut down our distance. But we had 

 made twenty miles in ten hours and 

 were half way to the 89th parallel. 



The ice was grinding audibly in every 

 direction, but no motion was visible. 

 Evidently it was settling back in equilib- 

 rium and probably sagging due north- 

 ward with its release from the wind pres- 

 sure. 



Again there was a few hours' sleep, 

 and we hit the trail before midnight. 

 The weather and going were even bet- 

 ter. The surface, except as interrupted 

 by infrequent ridges, was as level as the 

 glacial fringe from Hecla to Columbia 

 and harder. 



We marched something over ten 

 hours, the dogs being often on the trot 

 and made 20 miles. Near the end of the - 

 march, we rushed across a lead 100 yards- 

 wide, which buckled under our sledges,. 

 and finally broke as the last sledge left it. 



We stopped in sight of the 89th 

 parallel, in a temperature of 40 degrees 

 below. Again a scant sleep, and we were 

 on our way once more and across the 

 89th parallel. 



This march duplicated the previous 

 one as to weather and going. The last 

 few hours it was on young ice, and oc- 

 casionally the dogs were galloping. We 

 made 25 miles or more, the air, the sky, 

 and the bitter wind burning the face till 

 it cracked. It was like the great in- 

 terior ice cap of Greenland. Even the 

 natives complained of the bitter air. It 

 was as keen as frozen steel. 



A little longer sleep than the previous 

 ones had to be taken here as we were all 

 in need of it. Then on again. 



Up to this time, with each successive 

 march, our fears of an impossible lead 

 had increased. At every inequality of 

 the ice, I found myself hurrying breath- 

 lessly forward, fearing that it marked a 

 lead, and when I arrived at the summit 

 would catch my breath with relief — only 

 to find myself hurrying on in the same 

 way at the next one. But on this march, 

 by some strange shift and feeling, this 

 fear fell from me completely. The 

 weather was thick, but it gave me no un- 

 easiness. 



Before I turned in I took an observa- 

 tion, which indicated our position as 

 89.25. A dense, lifeless pall hung over- 

 head. The horizon was black and the 

 ice beneath was a ghastly, shelly-white, 

 with no relief — a striking contrast to the 

 glimmering, sunlit fields of it over which 

 we had been traveling for the previous 

 four days. 



