Abstract
ON June 24, 1898, a vessel, insignificant in size and somewhat quaint in appearance, unlike ships generally engaged in ordinary mercantile avocations, might have been seen threading her way, under her own steam, through the numerous merchant ships that were at anchor in the harbour of Christiania. She was a vessel of no common type; her peculiarities of construction and rig were noticeable, even to the inexperienced eye of a landsman, and judging from the enthusiastic cheers with which she was greeted on all sides, she was evidently bound on a voyage of no common interest. The ships in harbour were all decorated with gay bunting; flags flew from their mastheads, and cheer after cheer resounded from their crowded decks and rigging as she steamed slowly past. The quays and wharves along the shore were also thronged with a vast concourse of people, bedecked in their smartest and gayest holiday attire, all equally enthusiastic in their demonstrations of farewell, while the fjord itself was alive with innumerable boats of all descriptions, including many small steamers, all intent upon one object, namely, to do honour to the little vessel that was so quietly proceeding to sea, and to wave her a last good-bye.
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New Land. 1 . Nature 70, 152–155 (1904). https://doi.org/10.1038/070152a0
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DOI: https://doi.org/10.1038/070152a0