Brother John’s glacier and Alida Lake, Etah, North Greenland.
There in the bright light of the Arctic night glistened the tranquil waters of the fiord, and the crumbling cliffs reflected a ruddy welcome. Far away up the fiord sparkled a great glacier, an arm of the huge inland Mer de Glace. Close at hand bubbled and splashed a tiny stream which tumbled down among the rugged boulders from the melting snow above and trickled across the coastal intervale which was rich with lush grass. We stood there staring and straining our eyes for some sign of the expected village. All we saw on the slope above the fringe of grass was the hillside in which there were two holes in the ground, the remains of igloos of a former age, only these and nothing more!
In a few moments we had rounded Provision Point, so named from its use as a supply depot on the Commander’s previous expeditions. Thinking this location favorable for an anchorage, he immediately ordered the anchor dropped. A quick heave with the anchor chain announced the successful completion of the outward voyage. We of the ship personnel had consummated our mission; now it was for the aviators to accomplish theirs.
The clatter of the anchor chain acquainted Melkon with the fact that we had arrived.
“What kind of postage stamps do they use here?” he called up the companionway.
Receiving no enlightenment on this subject, he started up on deck. Poking his head above the hatch he inquired with a puzzled expression on his face:
“Why, where is the post office?”
The Commander extended his arm shorewards with a dramatic gesture and said simply and significantly:
“Look!”