All the food disappeared as though a whirlwind had passed over the table--and this, despite the fact that we had decided to eat sparingly after our long restriction. The towing of N 25 proceeded satisfactorily in the beginning, but during the night a southerly breeze came up blowing directly down from the hills. The waves increased steadily and as we steered westwards towards Hinlopen Strait we decided that we must turn landwards and anchor. We only got to bed at 5:30 A.M., after traversing an endless number of roods. At eleven o’clock the next morning we were up again. It was blowing a gale and we lay badly. We decided therefore that we should go into the nearest bay to find a calm and safe harborage for N 25, let it remain there while we went on to King’s Bay for assistance, return for the seaplane and fly it down. The nearest harbor was Brandy Bay. We looked at each other as much as to say, “Can we really permit ourselves to enter a place with such a name?” The ice here lay at the bottom of the Bay and we towed the machine safely through it. At 8 P.M. we steered for King’s Bay. It was a windy passage through Hinlopen Strait. The sea was high and rough and the “Sjöliv” enjoyed herself royally. If our feelings agreed with hers, I should not like to say. On the 17th we sailed along Spitzbergen’s north coast in summer sunshine and warmth. We passed a few vessels and asked if they had seen “Hobby”--but “No, they had not.” As we passed Virgo-havn we hoisted all our flags and the little “Sjöliv” was in gala attire. We wanted to honor the memory of the man who, for the first time, sought to reach the Pole through the air--Salomon August Andrëe. Was there any one in the world who had more right to honor the memory of this man than we six who stood here looking over the place from which he set out on his sad expedition. I scarcely think so. We lowered our flag and continued.