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Test Bank For Managerial Economics 12th Edition Christopher Thomas S Charles Maurice
Test Bank For Managerial Economics 12th Edition Christopher Thomas S Charles Maurice
Charles Maurice
15. Unfriendly takeovers have the greatest potential to enhance the market price of companies whose
managers:
a. maximize short-run profits.
b. maximize the value of the firm.
c. satisfice.
d. maximize long-run profits.
ANS: C
17. Constrained optimization techniques are not designed to deal with the problem of:
a. self-serving management.
b. contractual requirements.
c. scarce investment funds.
d. limited availability of essential inputs.
ANS: A
23. Direct regulation of business has the potential to yield economic benefits to society when:
a. barriers to entry are absent.
b. there are no good substitutes for a product.
c. many firms serve a given market.
d. smaller firms are most efficient.
ANS: B
AMUNDSEN—BEFORE THE
TRIP
AMUNDSEN—AFTER
ELLSWORTH—BEFORE
ELLSWORTH—AFTER
We started the first motor, therefore, and with the help of this got
the machine as far as possible up the slip. Ellsworth and Omdal
worked like heroes in order to turn the machine, whilst I worked the
engine. But what could three men do with such a heavy machine?
We got it well up onto the ice-floe so that only the after-end and part
of the propeller remained in the water-lane. It could not sink now in
any case, and the new ice outside would in all probability prevent the
drift-ice from getting near it while we were away. We considered
under the circumstances that it was lying in as safe a position as
possible, and we got ready to go across to N 25. The ice in the
water-lane did not look very safe and N 25 had drifted somewhat
nearer. We lightened our packs, but they still weighed forty kg. It was
impossible to know beforehand how long the trip would take us. First
there was one thing and then another which we thought we ought to
have with us. Off we went right across the water-lane, although it
presented such an uncanny appearance. Omdal led. I followed, and
then came Ellsworth. As soon as we had to leave the new ice, it was
a case of climbing up and down high icebergs, where in addition to
other things we had to carry our skis. We remained as near as
possible to the edge of the water-lane, and everything went well until
we were near the other machine. We were already going to start
boasting, as we had no idea of any danger, when I suddenly found
myself immersed in water up to my neck. I noticed that my skis had
disappeared, but my knapsack, which weighed forty kg., was very
embarrassing. I shouted loudly as soon as I fell through, and Omdal
quickly turned round. I had hardly seen his face when he also
disappeared like magic. There we both were. I managed to get my
gun up over the ice, which had broken several times under my
hands. I got a good firm hold and remained as quiet as possible
because I knew that Ellsworth would soon be with me—unless he
also tumbled in. The current was strong and pulled my legs up in
front of me under the ice so that my boot-tops actually touched it. To
get out by my own efforts with the heavy knapsack was hopeless. I
was not going to risk losing my knapsack, before I knew how it stood
with Ellsworth. Omdal called for assistance in the hope that the crew
of N 25 would come and help. In a little while Ellsworth, who had
saved himself by getting out of the water-lane, came to my rescue.
He came creeping along, and handed me a ski, which I got hold of,
and by its help I wriggled along to the edge of the firm ice. In a
second I managed to slip off my knapsack and its precious contents,
and got it onto the ice, and I scrambled up after it with Ellsworth’s
help. Then Ellsworth dashed off to Omdal, who was getting weaker
and weaker. I stumbled to my legs and ran as quickly as my tired
condition allowed me. Omdal was so exhausted that it was
exceedingly difficult to get him out. I got my knife and cut the straps
of his knapsack, whilst Ellsworth held him up, and with our joint
efforts we at last got him safely onto the land. He could not stand on
his legs. We had both had a narrow escape, and we have to thank
Ellsworth’s self-possession and quickness that we escaped with our
lives. The honor which he received later—the gold medal for bravery
—pleased Omdal and myself as much as it pleased him. It was well
earned.
RIISER-LARSEN—BEFORE
RIISER-LARSEN—AFTER
DIETRICHSON—BEFORE
DIETRICHSON—AFTER
Our foresight in unstrapping the laces of the skis and putting our
boots loosely into the ski-shoes, putting on our air-filled lifebelts was
what made it possible to save us at all. How we blessed this, our
own farsightedness! By way of curiosity I may mention that Riiser-
Larsen and I bought the lifebelts in Bodö just as we were on the
point of starting. A man came on board and announced himself as
the manufacturer of the lifebelt “Tethys.” He brought a sample which
appealed to us, and so we ordered six belts. It is strange how life is
full of chance actions which lead to fateful results.
About forty minutes after the accident we reached the N 24. We
received a hearty reception, and as Omdal and I got a good drop of
spirit and some dry clothes, we soon started talking. Answers to
innumerable questions tripped off our tongues. I can well remember
that I said, “I am glad to see you again,” when I pressed Roald
Amundsen’s hand. It is a saying which generally does not mean
much, but I believe Amundsen understood. These few words, and
still more the handshake, were an expression of joy at being again
with our beloved leader, whose insight, experience and great
capability, in conjunction with his untiring energy, overcame all
difficulties. I have the impression that Amundsen’s few words to me,
“same here” (“i like maate”), were just as sincere. All three of us from
N 24 had arrived with a whole skin, and we could report that the
machine in the meantime at least was safe, and, with our combined
efforts, could be got ready to start in a few days’ time.
N 25’s position was such that only our united strength could save
it from its precarious situation. It had made a forced landing and was
lying worse than N 24, but both its motors were in working order. If
the machines had by chance separated instead of coming close
together we would probably not have been able to get into contact
with one another and one crew, unless reënforced by the other,
could hardly have managed to start its machine alone.
Even now, although we were six men all told, it seemed to us
something of a riddle how we, with our primitive implements, should
manage to get the machine onto the great ice-plain, which was our
goal. But in this difficulty our leader’s wide experience and inventive
mind was put to its full use. It became apparent that if six men are
working on a matter of life and death they can accomplish the
unbelievable. Most of us soon knew that our only salvation lay in
getting one or both machines in a good position to start. A march
southwards would (no matter which way we chose) have very little
chance of success.
Our work and our mode of life in the weeks which followed are
described in another chapter, so I shall only add that we were
disappointed in our hopes of being able to get N 24 ready as soon as
we had finished with N 25. Instead we had weeks of strenuous work
to get N 25 into readiness for flight. It was absolutely a game of “cat
and mouse,” but it was a game in which life and death were the
stakes.
The thought of leaving our machine there behind us, in the ice,
was very bitter at first. But as time passed and we saw the difficulties
we had to contend with on every side, the bitterness gradually got
less and less—especially when we found that it would be necessary
to use N 24’s supply of petrol to augment the other supply for the
homeward flight and for the various attempts to start which had to be
made before N 25 finally got clear away.
I might mention too that the absence of landing places made it
seem advisable for the return journey to be accomplished with one
machine. The risk of having to make a forced landing would thus
only be half as great, and the forced landing of one of the machines
would have meant a catastrophe for the whole expedition. (I
personally did not share this opinion, for in spite of the misfortune to
the aft engines my trust in both of these was great, as they had gone
like clockwork during the entire northward flight.) Circumstances
however settled the question of choice, and as we at last, on the
15th of June, found ourselves in our right element again, it was only
a passing thought which we gave to our dear N 24 as it disappeared
behind us in the fog.
Part V
WHILST WE WAIT
Later
We remained standing as though suddenly realizing the
difference in the work of those six on board the machines and
ourselves. Till now we have all appeared to be actual members of
the expedition. We have felt that there was no great difference in our
desires to reach a common goal. We have lived under the same
roof, fed in the same mess, have shared the same work, but now the
others have gone, and we have become the land party again! The
six ought to return after a few days’ absence and we should again be
part of the expedition. But the few hours which have passed since
5:15 this afternoon have opened a tremendous gulf between us. The
six may now be fighting for their very lives, while we hang around
here exactly as we did yesterday, the day before, and every other
day in the six weeks we have been in Ny-Aalesund. We have
suddenly become superfluous! Until this afternoon we had tasks to
perform, but from now we can only wait, just like all the rest of the
world, for the six who have gone—and we know that we can give
them no more help than any one else can. We have become
passive.
The humming of the motors can still be heard in our dreams; in
fact the whole occurrence appears only as a dream. Could it have
really been we who saw them off? We, who are now packing up and
getting ready to go on board the “Fram” and the “Hobby,” which lie
ready by the quay to set off northwards to Danskeöen. The
landscape is unchanged. The sun still shines high in the light blue
polar sky, making the glacier scintillate with lovely colors. But the six
have gone! At the end of the fjord’s north side lies Cape Mitra—that
pointed corner which is one of the best landmarks in the world.
During the evening meal on board the “Fram” we talk of nothing
but the start. We listen with pride to Schulte-Frohlinde’s praise
regarding the pilots’ management of the two heavy machines. He
says no one could have done it better, and we agree with him
unanimously, although we don’t know the difference between a
sporting and a bombarding machine. He has walked across the ice
and examined the trails, and noted that the ice was broken into small
pieces at the spot where Dietrichson stuck, and the same was the
case in a 200–300 meter length along Riiser-Larsen’s track before
he had been able to rise. The starting track was about 1,400 meters
long, and Schulte-Frohlinde says that the trail gets less and less until
towards its end it might only have been marked in the snow with
one’s little finger.
For the first two hours after the machines had disappeared we
scanned the heavens with our binoculars as, before starting,
Amundsen had told Captain Hagerup of the “Fram” that if everything
should not be in order, the machines would return again; and if one
machine had had to make a forced landing, the other would fly back
to King’s Bay and warn the ships to go quickly to their aid. It is seven
o’clock. It is now eight, and no machine is to be seen, so now we
know that all is well. Eleven o’clock, and “Fram’s” bunkers are well
filled; the ship leaves the quay. Half an hour later, when “Hobby” is
ready, we steer out of the fjord. We pass Cape Mitra, steering past
the seven glaciers. So far as we can see northwards, it appears to
be clear. The sea lies calm as a mirror. There is hardly any swell,
and for the first time in the open sea we are all at the same moment
free from seasickness. Westward above the horizon lies a low
cloudbank. We ask Bjerknes and Calwagen what it can be; can this
gray cloud-mass threaten danger to the airmen? No! It can’t do that,
for it is only the dispersing fog which has hung over King’s Bay
during the last days, and which was blown away by the northeast
wind, making a start possible. During the night we passed drift-ice.
We all stand on the bridge looking northwards every second.
Here we pass along the Coast over which the two machines flew
this afternoon.
“The small hours begin to grow.” We bless the “Fram’s” steward,
who brings us coffee, and we go to our bunks. “Fram” is no
passenger boat, but we are quite happy to sleep wherever we can
find a comfortable spot.
OMDAL—-BEFORE
OMDAL—AFTER
FEUCHT—BEFORE
FEUCHT—AFTER