“‘Yes, they are thine, O mother old!
And proud thou dost embrace them;
Thou hear’st of dangers manifold,
But know’st thy sons can face them.
And tears of joy thine eyes will rain,
The day the Fram comes steering
Up fjord again to music strain,
And the roar of thousands cheering.
“‘E. N.’
“Then I read aloud our last greeting, a telegram we received at Tromsö from Moltke Moe: