Over Cape Mitra we had already risen to 400 m. and everything beneath us seemed exceedingly small. Time after time I turned round and looked for the other machine, but never managed to discern it. Therefore we turned our plane completely round, flying back to look for N 24. One never knew what might have happened. It was possible that something had struck it as it tried to rise. The ice might have broken, or its load might have been too heavy for it. Suddenly something blazed in the sun; it glittered like gold. It was the sun playing on N 24’s wings. There it came in full flight to meet us. Everything seemed to be in order. Had I known then what I know now, I should have held my breath for a moment and taken off my hat to the man who sat at the wheel. But more about that later. Then the machine turned its nose again towards the north, and the two enormous birds started their flight together towards the “Unknown.” My feelings at that moment were one whirl of burning gratitude. I gave a bow and a grateful glance to the man sitting behind me who had accomplished this brilliant master stroke--a warm silent thank-you to those who had just joined us; a thank-you so deep and so heartfelt to my five comrades, who have all willingly placed their lives upon the scales--a thank-you because the heavy yoke was at last lifted from my shoulders (the disdainful scorn which I had been forced to feel so many times during the last year of constant misfortune had disappeared for ever). Even if we fell right down now where we were this proof of our earnestness could nevermore be taken away. We passed quickly over the northwest coast of Spitzbergen, where the sea below us was entirely free from ice. Then we reached Magdalena Bay, the South Gate with the Moss Islands, and then came the Danske Öen. I knew them all again from my trip with Gjoa in 1901. After an hour’s flight we were level with the Amsterdam Islands. Here we met most unpleasant weather. Fog as thick as porridge. First it came densely, thickeningly, from the northeast--then thicker--thicker. The pilot rose higher and we were flying above the woolen blanket. The other machine accompanied us at a somewhat lower altitude. Here I saw the strangest optical illusion I have ever seen and nothing seems to me to have ever equaled it in beauty. Directly pictured in the fog I could see a complete reflection of our own machine surrounded by a halo of all the spectrum’s colors. The sight was miraculously beautiful and original.