The Munroe Alongside the Ice—60 Miles from Land
Longyear City, Spitzenbergen—700 Miles from the North Pole
I sailed from Gottenborg for Hull as an honest passenger of the steerage. My fellow travellers were Swedish, Danish and Norwegian immigrants bound for America. Being the only member of the steerage without a through ticket to New York, I was called before the captain of the ship, the second day out, for a cross-examination. He asked me several personal questions. I feigned that I was not used to such humiliation, and the generous-looking skipper said that he would leave my case to the English authorities.
When the ship docked at Hull, the cattle of the steerage were instructed to congregate in the mess-room for inspection. Presently a group of five British immigration officials entered the room. They were all dressed in blue uniforms with brass buttons, and these brass buttons seemed the biggest thing about them to me.
"Where is the tramp from Sweden?" gruffly asked one of them, directing his question to the captain of the ship.
"I presume I am the man for whom you are looking," I volunteered in as excellent English as I could command. I was standing beside the officer and he seemed somewhat perplexed when a response to his question came in the words of his own language from an unshaved tramp. The Swedish authorities had cabled to the immigration headquarters at Hull that I was on the boat, and I was thus assured of a reception.