Evening star., 1925-06-19


sea. No longer protected by the
| long line of islands, we catch the
swell of the Northern North Sea, OIL
the Norwegian Sea, as 1t Is somRtime:
called. We roll bit as we 30 to bed
The atmosphere today is even more
brilliant than yesterday, although
yesterday that would have seemed
incredible, The snow is thicker anC
whittier on the mountains, while these
| fragments of nature are more numer
Gus. more barren and jagged. 1t is
colder, much colder, yet a dry colo
! that does not penetrate.
Amundsen Gay as Boy.
| Just before midday mess we cross
the Arctic Circle, which lies on lati-
| tude $3.50 North. This crossing
however, gives us merely an imagin-
ative thrill. Had we crossed it or
| the longest day of the year-on Mid
summer nights eve-we could have
seen, at midnight the midnight sun
Still, the fact that the Arctic Circle
| is behind US is proof that were truly
| forging North.
All day we Zig-Zag across open
water, tying up at wharveS here and
| there, while boxes, barrels and bags
all the most heterogeneous kinds OF
! cargo-are loaded and unloaded
one, three five thousand inhabitants;
others are merely steamship company
docks Surmounted by a board Shanty
| its sole relationship with civilization
| appearing in the advertisements plaS-
tered on its front.
AT every stop we amuSe ourselves
by going ashore, crunChing through
the snow to the post office and in
quiring for Polar stamps. Most OF
the offices have already sold out
others haven't received any of the
issue; at only two can we purchase
the limit allowed a single individual
five of each of the seven varieties
We pocket these triumphantly, feel
ing certain that, after we've reached
the North Pole, these same stamps
will assume more than ordinary
| worth.
Always Capt. Amundsen as full of
enthusiasm as a boy, interests Mr.
Ellsworth and me in everything, ami
mate and inanimate, about US. He
knows the names of all the mountain
peaks we pass-the Seven Sisters
the Man on Horseback, the Old
Woman. He's the first to see three
elder duck swimming alongside. He
tells us how these duck breed, in
great communities, on the barren
islands, farther North. and how. in
the Spring of each year. the elder
down is gathered from the nests.
He points out to us the fishermen's
boats, chugging out to the Goldfish
grounds, and explains the marvellous
manner in which our ship navigates
through narrow passages and among
the rocks and islands which hug the
northern coast of Norway. What
Capt. Amundsen doesn't know. the
dnnfnr toll Ia 1f -
best skiiers. has friends in every
port we make.
He learns all the news and passes
on to us various odds and ends of in
telligence. The doctors an ideal man
for the kind of expedition were
about to embark upon. He always
has something new to produce, like
the box of cakes from some acQuaint-
ance along the way, which he brought
out when we sat over our after-d
ner coffee in the saloon today.
During the days journey we leave
behind us Solstad. Skaalvaer, Nord
vik, SelSoyvik-cold, northern names
all-and at twilight reach Bodo, hud
died at the foot of the mountains
Before supper we talk a walk through
snow packed streets and see the in
congruity of snow piled against the
plate glass of electrically lighted win
dows filled with womens hats, shiny
new shoes and other familiar manu-
factured goods.
When a man lives in great cities he
is inclined to think that all the
worlds highways lead only to those
great cities. He's mistaken. They
don't. Each Bodo is its own center
The coming of the Kong Harald
here is really no different from the
n r~ix af fhn
York. No, the latter really hasn't
nearly so much Importance.
At 9 o'clock we draw away from
the cheerful lights of the town. Out
of the lonely group on the pier an
individual steps forward, waves his
arm and in a powerful Norwegian
voice that carries clearly through the
night air, shouts:
"Ro-o- aid Amundsen, God Lykke.
CHAPTER III.
7 T is 6 o'clock in the morning of
April when we leave the steamer
Kong Harald at Tromso. Despite
i the early hour here on the 10th
latitude it is already full daylight
The town appears before our sleepy
eyes as a formless mass of frame
houses stretching from the water
hill. While the raucous winches of
The little coastal steamer rattle away
at their task of unloading odds and
ends of freight we crunch through the
snow along deserted streets lined with
silent houses. We turn a corner, the
noise of the wincheS is lost, and we
reach the towns leading hotel-the
Grand-an unpretentious, frame house
that not yet shows any sign of wake
fulneSS.
In two hours news begins to come
to us. The rest of the expedition isn't
here, as we had thought, but at Mar
vik, some $50 miles to the south
aboard the Hobby. which is loading the
Grated airplane that arrived there by
steamer from the German Dornier
plant at Pisa, Italy. Here we find
only three Of our party-our two me
teorologists and a mechanic from Der
by. England. Roald Amundsen, as
usual, is breaking the trail.
So, inasmuch as we've gotten ahead
of the crowd, we can pause and look
at Tromso, which lies on a diminutive
island hemmed in by Water and noun
tains covered with a smooth layer OF
snow that turns orange and blue when
the sun shines upon 1t. Today the
weather is gorgeous, and not at al
cold. 1t is like yesterday, our last day
on the water, when we lay out or
deck, muffled in our furs, and read
1t has been quite as strange a Winter
here as farther south. Last New Year
day, so we are told, flowers were
picked about Tromso.
Sleigh Bells Jingle.
We feel that we are fairly far North
yet Tromso is a town of some sig
niflcance, with a population of II ,00C
persons and at least six automobiles
the largest of which belongs to the 10
cal brewery. Tromso is apparently
something of a shipping center lying
as it does on the lane of sea traffic into