! At about three o’clock in the morning the ship comes to a halt at the ice barrier north of the 80th degree of latitude! With feelings akin to reverence we gaze out across that vast sheet of pack-ice extending northward towards the Pole. In the dazzling sunlight we contemplate this desolate icy region where many Norwegians seek a livelihood hunting the seal and the polar bear, but also where many of them have met premature death. We saw neither seal nor bear, for our great ship could not go a-hunting; but there was an abundant bird- life. That lively seafowl called the fulmar shrieked and disported himself to his heart’s content. Far to the south-east we discern at intervals the blue heights and white glaciers on the north coast of Spitsbergen. The captain, however, views with concern a dark bank of cloud rising over the icefield in the east. Is it fog? After a halt of an hour or two at the ice barrier he gives the command, and the ship is headed south for the return journey to Norway, accompanied by shrieking gulls. At last we are able to get a good rest. We fall asleep deeply impressed by the great scenic won- ders of the preceding day: The polar ice with its fascinating mystery and its infinite solitude. Two days and two nights down the Norwegian Sea, mostly in fog. On the third day the Norwe- 193 13