That Northern sea was grand, and I enjoyed it. Day by day, as we proceeded further north, the nights became shorter, until at last there was very little darkness left. The weather was incredibly fair, but very cold. The sea was blue, the sky was blue. In an incredibly short time we were in the drifting ice of the Arctic. I had thought it would be a long journey, but it was hardly a week. The white blocks of ice shone in the sun, and now seemed to block our further progress; but long lanes soon opened up on every side and on we pressed, from one open space to another.

We made good progress northward and arrived at the seal's gathering place a few days before we were allowed to kill. I understood that was some time in April. It was a rare sight to see the immense ice floes covered with these animals. There were millions of them, I believe, and they stretched out as far as the eye could see, until they became like mere black specks against the whiteness of the ice.

We had no sooner arrived at the "grounds" than a gale set in. It blew furiously for twenty-four hours and tossed the loose ice about like chips.

Most of the young seals were pitched into the water and had to take their first lessons in swimming whether they would or not. When at last the storm abated and the sea became quiet again, there were very few seals for us to capture; so, after a few days, we again headed for the north in hope of finding the old males.

The work of taking seals seemed to me such a cruel task that I was glad not to take part in it, though it pleased the men greatly. I never would take part in any killing or butchery at home, and even chopping off the head of a chicken was a trial to me. When this seal killing work was going on, the captain and I were sometimes the only hands on board. With the ship safely moored to some ice floe, we had hours in which to talk, and I must say that the Captain's company was enjoyable.

One day Captain Larsen showed me the picture of his wife - he pointed it out to me hanging on the cabin wall. Instantly, the face reminded me of someone else, and I stood before it gazing intently.

"Well, sir, what do you think of her?" said he, as he peered over my shoulder.

"A very sweet face," said I. "Captain Larsen, you are a favored man, and ought to be a happy one."

"Favored and happy?" he shouted, as his finger clutched my shoulder until it pained, "with that sweet face back there in Tunsberg, and I not to see it for six months! No, that's the worst of this life," he said in a milder tone, "not to see the face of the woman you love for this long time, nor to hear her laugh, nor her welcoming words; nor to see her smile; or feel her warm, soft arm around your rough neck - Meester Merton, it is very bad - I can not do it longer. I am going to Amerikee, and she shall be with me all the time."

"Yes; Captain," said I, "I do not blame you. You have a lovely wife, and she is good."

"Good? good you say? Yes; the best wife in the world, Meester Merton. They all say that, of course. And you are not married?"

"I? Oh, no, I thought you knew that?"

"Well, of course, I can not blame you, seeing that I got the only woman in the world." At which he chuckled and laughed.

I stood looking at the picture all the time. Something in the face, I could hardly make out what, and the arrangement of the hair reminded me of the past.

"You seem to like that picture," asked the Captain.

"It reminds me," said I; and then I stopped.

"Of someone you know?"

"Yes; of someone I once knew."

"In Amerkee?"

"Yes, in America."
"Is she dead?"

"No, yes, I mean, she is dead to me, Captain Larsen."

"Oh!"

But there was meaning in that single word. Captain Larsen was a discerning man. He said no more to me then, but put his arm through mine, drew me away from the picture, and said, "Come, we will have a game of checkers."

He must have seen my face and read something therein. From that moment I loved Captain Erik Larsen.

I see that already I have used up quite a number of pages of my precious paper, and so I must not write so much of my experience that summer on board the ship ESKEN. I shall have to make that short and get to the important part of my story.

I think it was in the month of June when we finished catching seals and moved up nearly to the 80 degrees to look for whales. We caught a number, and it must have been exciting sport. I was altogether too green a hand to take part in this dangerous business, but by this time I was getting some experience in handling a boat, and learning a little of other seaman duties. All this stood me well in hand, as shall presently appear.

The sun was now up all the time, and there was a continuous glare of the brightest light on everything around us. Especially did the ice glisten in the sunlight until one's eyes ached to look at it. The eternal light made me long for a bit of darkness, and oft-times I would draw the blinds of the cabin windows to induce a little natural sleep. The air was quite warm now, and it was a keen pleasure to breathe in the dry, crisp atmosphere, and to live as it seemed like living in a new, strange world.

    But terrible times soon came to the ship ESKEN, and its crew. That treacherous Polar Ocean may one day be calm and peaceful and the next be in the embrace of a howling storm. The summer was well advanced, and the ship had already gathered a good harvest, when one day the wind came from the south-west and blew with such power that ice floes, ships and all were driven northward. This was not what we wanted. Already we had been further north than any of the crew had ever before been, and it was time to be working southward. The sea had been quite open to the North and so we had sailed as far as we had wished without hindrance. But, as Captain Larsen said, we were not out on an expedition to find the Pole, so the continuous open water was no temptation to us. Yet northward we drifted. The ice behind us, packed in tight and hard, without lanes or openings. We, therefore, had to be patient until the gale blew over, when, we could no doubt pick our way back again.