It was the recollection of a day three years before, April 21, 1906, when after making a fight with ice, open water, and storms, the expedition which I commanded had been forced to turn back from 87 deg.

6' north latitude because our supply of food would carry us no further.

And the contrast between the terrible depression of that day and the exaltation of the present moment was not the least pleasant feature of our brief stay at the Pole.

During the dark moments of that return journey in 1906, I had told myself that I was only one in a long list of arctic explorers, dating back through the centuries, all the way from Henry Hudson to the Duke of the Abruzzi, and including Franklin, Kane, and Melville--a long list of valiant men who had striven and failed.

I told myself that I had only succeeded, at the price of the best years of my life, in adding a few links to the chain that led from the parallels of civilization towards the polar center, but that, after all, at the end the only word I had to write was failure.
[Illustration: LOOKING TOWARD CAPE CHELYUSKIN] [Illustration: LOOKING TOWARD SPITZBERGEN] [Illustration: LOOKING TOWARD CAPE COLUMBIA] [Illustration: LOOKING TOWARD BERING STRAIT] (The Four Directions from the Pole) But now, while quartering the ice in various directions from our camp, I tried to realize that, after twenty-three years of struggles and discouragement, I had at last succeeded in placing the flag of my country at the goal of the world's desire.