Our polar flight

by Roald Amundsen; Lincoln Ellsworth

It is on that account that I have taken this opportunity to write about the financial side of the expedition. There are a number of people who think that we have become rich folk. How often have I not been congratulated—not only because I have come back with my life, but also because I have returned as a millionaire. Probably the films shown in this connection have given this impression. But people should realize that we are at the mercy of the big film companies who fix the price. If we ourselves had cinema theaters stretching through the world’s towns, then could Roald Amundsen set out to-day on the realization of his wonderful plan: the exploration of the sea between the Pole and Alaska.

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Back to the matter which I am really discussing. The same goodwill met us in Marina di Pisa when Director Schulte-Frohlinde himself made out the list of spare parts, assuring us (by giving the matter his own personal attention) that we should have with us every article necessary for the flying boats’ requirements. The bill for these spare parts ran up to about 28,000 kronen.

Instruments

During his preparations for his earlier flight Roald Amundsen was struck with the idea of using a sun-compass, and arranged with “Goerz Optische Werke” to construct such an instrument. The firm met his suggestions in the most friendly manner, and the result was our invaluable solar-compasses. The principle of these is as follows:

The sun’s reflection is cast through a periscope down onto a dull disc directly in front of the pilot. By the side of the instrument there is a clock which can be coupled to a cogwheel on the periscope. The clock is constructed so that it can swing the periscope round 360° in the average time that it takes the sun to perform a similar movement. By the aid of a graduated scale on the periscope, which can be placed at a certain angle, one can set it in agreement with the flying-boat’s nose. Should I, for example, start exactly at midday, I should set the periscope so that it points direct astern. Exactly at twelve o’clock I attach the clock to the instrument. Should the seaplane now by chance face the north, I would see a little reflection of the sun in the center of the dull disc which is marked by a cross. The periscope will now follow the sun’s course so that the reflection will always be in the center of the disc as long as the seaplane continues the same course.

Should it be set working at another time, it would be calculated from the angle of the sun, at that moment when the clock is set going. The clock is always regulated according to Greenwich time (or any other recognized time), but the longitudinal distance must be taken into account, and in the same manner the angle must deviate away from the meridian beneath if one does not desire to steer parallel with it. On the top of the periscope there is a screw with an inner part, where an adjustment can be made according to the declination on that day. The solar-compass is mounted on a base on which can be made corrections for eventual latitudinal changes. The periscope’s axis must always stand parallel with the earth’s axis. A change in the upward tilt of the machine must also be reckoned with.

The lenses in the periscope are constructed to give a radius of 10°; that is to say, if the sun’s reflection appears in the disc’s outer edge, one can allow 10° before it disappears in the other outer edge. If one has set the solar-compass for a flight directly north, one will continue in the right direction so long as the flying machine has no deflection. In order to detect such deflections we had a combined speedometer and deviation measure which was also given to us free of charge by Goerz. Amundsen attended to these on the northward journey—Dietrichson on the southward. They both speak of them with high praise. Their uses are shortly as follows: Inside the instrument, on a move-able ring, is fastened a diametrical wire. One looks through the instrument down to the ground below or to the ice, and adjusts the wire the longitudinal way of the ship, then pays attention to the objects passing aftwards under the plane (icebergs, for example), noting whether they follow the direct line of the wire or deviate to the side. Should there be a deviation, one knows that they are not following the direct course in which the nose is pointing, so it has to be set at an angle allowing for the deviation. The wire must be drawn to the side quite slowly until one finds that the objects which one can notice now follow the line of the wire exactly. This points now in the direction one comes from, and the wire’s angle, compared with the boat’s nose, can be read directly in the instrument. That gives the angle of deviation.

TAKING THE WINGS OUT OF THEIR BOXES