t always watch them when they are out on the ice.

"Thursday, November 30th. The lead showed a depth of exactly 83
fathoms (170 m.) to-day, and it seemed by the line as if we were
drifting northwest. We are almost certainly farther north now; hopes
are rising, and life is looking brighter again. My spirits are like a
pendulum, if one could imagine such an instrument giving all sorts of
irregular swings backward and forward. It is no good trying to take
the thing philosophically; I cannot deny that the question whether we
are to return successful or unsuccessful affects me very deeply. It
is quite easy to convince myself with the most incontrovertible
reasoning that what really matters is to carry through the expedition,
whether successfully or not, and get safe home again. I could not
but undertake it; for my plan was one that I felt must succeed, and
therefore it was my duty to try it. Well, if it does not succeed,
is that my affair? I have done my duty, done all that could be done,
and can return home with an easy conscience to the quiet happiness I
have left behind. What can it matter whether chance, or whatever name
you like to give it, does or does not allow the plan to succeed and
make our names immortal? The worth of the plan is the same whether
chance smiles or frowns upon it. And as to immortality, happiness is
all we want, and that is not to be had here.

"I can say all this to myself a thousand times; I can bring myself to
believe honestly that it is all a matter of indifference to me; but
none the less my spirits change like the clouds of heaven according
as the wind blows from this direction or from that, or the soundings
show the depth to be increasing or not, or the observations indicate a
northerly or southerly drift. When I think of the many that trust us,
think of Norway, think of all the friends that gave us their time,
their faith, and their money, the wish comes that they may not be
disappointed, and I grow sombre when our progress is not what we
expected it would be. And she that gave most--does she deserve that
her sacrifice should have been made in vain? Ah, yes, we must and
will succeed!

"Sunday, December 3d. Sunday again, with its feeling of peace,
and its permission to indulge in the narcotic of happy day-dreams,
and let the hours go idly by without any prickings of conscience.

"To-day the bottom was not reached with over 133 fathoms (250 m.) of
line. There was a northeasterly drift. Yes