This was written on the morning of the 21st and my hope was to be realized. Meteorologists predicted good weather conditions in the polar basin and the plane was loaded and ready. In the afternoon the members of the expedition, accompanied by friends and the people of King’s Bay, went out to the plane. The lashings received final touches, instruments were placed in position, and engines were started. In the half hour during which the engines warmed up we said good-by to friends and acquaintances, and we placed special value on the good wish, “God bless your trip,” which we received from the miners’ representatives and the crew of the “Fram.” Our tireless friend, Director Knutsen, gave us practical proof of his kindness by handing us, when we were on board, a parcel of sandwiches, cold meat and hard-boiled eggs as well as a box of excellent oatcakes baked by Fru Director Clausen of Aalesund. As transpired later, these provisions came in exceedingly handy. At last both planes were ready. Omdal reported that the engines were all right, and Ellsworth was ready with his navigating and meteorological instruments. N 25 was lying with its nose facing the fjord, where the start was to be made. N 24, somewhat further in, lay parallel with the beach in order to escape the air pressure and the snow spray from N 25’s propeller. The latter plane at last slid down the hacked-out glide onto the ice, and N 24 proceeded in a half circle in order to follow down the same track. Meantime it was no easy task to raise the heavily laden plane 90°. At the same time as the engines pulled the plane slowly forward something snapped through the pressure on the tail. But there were plenty of willing hands--too many in fact. Above the humming of the engine I suddenly heard a noise which sounded to me as if a row of rivets in the bottom had sprung. Meantime the plane was in starting position. The people were quickly waved aside, and we glided down on the ice in the track of N 25. Director Schulte-Frohlinde from the Pisa Works had undoubtedly heard a suspicious noise when the rivets burst (that could be seen by the concerned look on his face) although the noise probably sounded worse in the plane than outside. I presume he calmed down when we continued on our way, but I smiled to myself at the sight of his sudden shock. As far as I was concerned the occurrence was quite clear. I knew that some of the rivets were out, although I could not judge how many. But I took it for granted that it would not place any special difficulties in the way of our landing or starting, even on the water, after we had lightened the plane by over 1,000 kg. of petrol and oil on the way up to the Pole. Added to this was the chance that we might possibly land and start from the ice, where the leakage would not matter. On the other hand, repairs would have delayed the start indefinitely; then again we might have periods when, impatiently waiting to start, every