hen a hurrah from land--at one time from a troop of
children, at another from grown-up people, but mostly from wondering
peasants who gaze long at the strange-looking ship and muse over its
enigmatic destination. And men and women on board sloops and ten-oared
boats stand up in their red shirts that glow in the sunlight, and rest
on their oars to look at us. Steamboats crowded with people came out
from the towns we passed to greet us, and bid us God-speed on our way
with music, songs, and cannon salutes. The great tourist steamboats
dipped flags to us and fired salutes, and the smaller craft did the
same. It is embarrassing and oppressive to be the object of homage like
this before anything has been accomplished. There is an old saying:

"At eve the day shall be praised,
The wife when she is burnt,
The sword when tried,
The woman when married,
The ice when passed over,
Ale when drunk."

Most touching was the interest and sympathy with which these poor
fisher-folk and peasants greeted us. It often set me wondering. I
felt they followed us with fervent eagerness. I remember one day--it
was north in Helgeland--an old woman was standing waving and waving
to us on a bare crag. Her cottage lay some distance inland. "I wonder
if it can really be us she is waving to," I said to the pilot, who was
standing beside me. "You may be sure it is," was the answer. "But how
can she know who we are?" "Oh! they know all about the Fram up here,
in every cabin, and they will be on the lookout for you as you come
back, I can tell you," he answered. Aye, truly, it is a responsible
task we are undertaking, when the whole nation are with us like
this. What if the thing should turn out a huge disappointment!

In the evening I would sit and look around--lonely huts lay scattered
here and there on points and islets. Here the Norwegian people wear
out their lives in the struggle with the rocks, in the struggle
with the sea; and it is this people that is sending us out into
the great hazardous unknown; the very folk who stand there in their
fishing-boats and look wonderingly after the Fram as she slowly and
heavily steams along on her northward course. Many of them wave their
sou'-westers and shout "Hurrah!" Others have barely time to gape at
us in wonderment. In on the point are a troop of women waving and
shouting; outside a few boats with ladie