Our polar flight

by Roald Amundsen; Lincoln Ellsworth

Another took up his glasses. There, at the spot where sea and sky met, a gray-black object could be seen rocking on the water. Something seemed to extend from each side of it, which could easily have been the wings of a flying machine. None of us really believed that it was one of the gray seaplanes we were waiting for. But all the same we fetched Captain Hagerup and told him what we had seen. He shook his head, but in spite of his doubt he went up the steps of his bridge much quicker than usual, where, looking through his glasses, he discovered that the gray mass was nothing but an ice-floe, which, aided by a little phantasy, appeared like an approaching aeroplane. It is so easy to be mistaken. Afterwards when we see gray spots on the horizon we shall know that it is either a flock of geese on their way to their nests on the cliffs or that it is a curiously formed ice-floe. Such occurrences give us a little variation in the monotony of our waiting. We have now got used to the noises on the ship, the churning of the propeller, the noise of the pump and of the engines, and pay no attention to any of them. But once we hear a deep humming sound from the coast and think it is the throbbing note we are waiting for. It is only the waves beating against the land as they wash up the broken ice, shivering it again into a thousand pieces. But all the same we stand on the deck with half-opened mouths and hands behind our ears listening to the sound.

South Gate between Danskeöen and Spitzbergen’s Mainland. Tuesday, May 26th

The First Engineer of the “Fram” told the Captain yesterday evening that our fresh-water tanks were in bad condition. To get the tanks filled at Virgo-havn was not possible, so we would have to go down to Magdalena Bay on the mainland’s northwest point, and fill the tanks with ice from an iceberg we had noticed standing high and dry in the Bay as we passed northwards. It was a long business. The “Fram” was steered towards the iceberg and the crew hacked away large lumps of ice which were sent flying down from the top of the ice-hill direct into the ship’s tanks. It was afternoon before the tanks were full, and a shooting party which had landed returned on board, bringing with them two seals which they had shot. So we weighed our anchor and sailed away from the iceberg into brilliant sunshine over a glassy sea, turning our course towards South Gate where we have now arrived and shall remain for the night.

This evening we have had a long discussion as to whether it is right to follow Amundsen’s instructions “to the letter” during the waiting period. His orders are quite clear. “For a period of fourteen days after the start ‘Fram’ and ‘Hobby’ shall lie in the fairway by Danskeöen whilst the weather is clear. Should some become hazy ‘Fram’ shall continue standing-by, but ‘Hobby’ shall go north to reconnoiter the ice border and patrol eastward, but not to pass Verlegen Hook.” The ships up till now have done this: “Hobby” has been out several times, but when the weather remains clear, and visibility is good, both vessels lie at anchor as now at Virgo-havn. Meanwhile the days are passing: it is now five days since the start, and many of us think that “Hobby,” even in clear weather, ought to patrol the edge of the ice the whole time. How can we tell what has happened? The flying machines may have started homewards, and there is a possibility that they are short of petrol, and may have had to land in the open sea, which “Hobby” speaks of as lying between the ice edge and Spitzbergen’s north coast—they may be stranded there waiting for a helping hand to be stretched out to them.

On the other hand Amundsen has worded his instructions quite clearly. He knows exactly where he can find the ships when he returns, and he will wish to have them in the place, where he has given them instructions to await him. We decide that so long as there are no weighty grounds for disobeying these orders we shall follow them.

We shall remain here at South Gate till to-morrow; then “Fram” will cross northwards to Virgo-havn, where “Hobby” awaits us.... And it is not impossible that when we arrive in the morning, we shall see two flying-boats lying by the vessel’s side. For five days have passed! Our confidence is a little less assured. Doubts slowly develop into words. But we keep telling each other that we do not need to fear for the safety of our six comrades.

The discussions carried us on until 1 A.M. We have walked a little on deck before we turn in, and, standing there, get a little illustration of how quickly the ice conditions can change. When “Fram” anchored we could see the snow-clad fjord ice lying flat and solid as far into the Bay as the eye could reach, but now the tide has turned, breaking the ice and carrying it in a steady stream of irregular lumps through the fjord and out to sea. They are driving past as quickly as a boat can row and ice-pilot Ness is watching them thoughtfully. “We shall probably have to move out of here before the night is over,” he says. “For the first of the lumps are already congregated at the side of the ship.”

Virgo-havn. Wednesday, May 27th

Ness is right. We are hardly in bed before we hear a scraping noise alongside, and we notice that the plates are sensitive to the pressure as the drift ice turns against the ship. But we turn over and sleep all the same on our mattresses on the saloon floor. At three o’clock we rush on deck. We have the steering gear right over our heads and can hear how it is working. There is a noise of the tramping of sea-boots, and the engine-room telegraph keeps insistently ringing.

Should it be....