Arctic exploration went on, but the idea of reaching the North Pole was beginning to take the place of the idea of "making" the Northwest Passage. That old problem, however, was in prospect of being solved by the attempts made to solve the former. So that by the year 1853 Collinson was able to sail so far that he came within fifty-seven miles—a mere pin prick on the map—of accomplishing the Northwest Passage.
Finally, in 1906, the Passage, which, like a mountain tunnel, had been worked at from both ends, was penetrated from one opening to the other by the little Gjöa, a Norwegian sloop of forty tons, which sailed from Christiania on June 1st, 1903.
She was under the command of Captain Roald Amundsen, of that city, and his right-hand man was Lieutenant Godfred Hansen, of the Danish navy; the crew numbered seven. She had not been built with a view to Arctic work, so that before she went north into the realm of the ice king she had to be fortified somewhat. An ice sheathing of two-inch oak planks added greatly to her resisting power, and her petroleum motor of 13 horse power enabled her, when she put to sea, to attain a traveling speed of three knots in smooth water. But the Gjöa trusted chiefly, like the stout little barks of other days, to the skillful handling of her sails.
The winters of 1903 and 1904 were spent in harbor on the shores of King William's Land. Only the premature closing in of the ice prevented the little vessel from achieving the Passage in 1905.
[THE DEATH BITE.]
"Well, Ed, let us hear from you to-night. You are always talking of strategy, flanks, and other soldiering knickknacks. Now tell us a story."
The boys drew their chairs about the roaring fire, which cast its ruddy glow about the room, while without the north wind held revelry in the branches of the trees.
Ed looked over the top of his paper, and smiled.
"What's that you say, Bib? I can't tell much of a story."