FARTHEST NORTH
Being the Record of a Voyage of Exploration of the Ship "Fram"
1893-96 and of a Fifteen Months' Sleigh Journey by Dr. Nansen and
Lieut. Johansen
By
Dr. FRIDTJOF NANSEN
With an Appendix by Otto Sverdrup Captain of the Fram
About 120 Full-page and Numerous Text Illustrations 16 Colored
Plates in Facsimile from Dr. Nansen's Own Sketches, Etched Portrait,
and Photogravures
In two volumes
Vol. II.
New York and London
Harper & Brothers Publishers
Copyright, 1897, by Harper & Brothers.
All rights reserved.
CONTENTS OF VOL. II.
CHAP. PAGE
I. We Prepare for the Sledge Expedition 1
II. The New Year, 1895 41
III. We Make a Start 90
IV. We Say Good-bye to the "Fram" 132
V. A Hard Struggle 157
VI. By Sledge and Kayak 236
VII. Land at Last 308
VIII. The New Year, 1896 454
IX. The Journey Southward 487
APPENDIX
Report of Captain Otto Sverdrup on the Drifting
of the "Fram" from March 14, 1895.
I. March 15 to June 22, 1895 601
II. June 22 to August 15, 1895 633
III. August 15 to January 1, 1896 648
IV. January 1 to May 17, 1896 668
V. The Third Summer 683
Conclusion 707
Index 715
ILLUSTRATIONS IN VOL. II.
PAGE.
Sailing Kayaks (Photogravure) Frontispiece
Hjalmar Johansen Facing p. 2
At the Supper-table (February 14, 1895) 9
Scott-Hansen's Observatory 17
Musical Entertainment in the Saloon 35
Captain Sverdrup in His Cabin 49
The "Fram" in the Ice (Photogravure) Facing p. 54
"All Hands on Deck!" 56
"A Most Remarkable Moon" 65
The "Fram" After an Ice-pressure (January 10, 1895) 67
The Winter Night (January 14, 1895) 71
A Whist-party in the Saloon (February 15, 1895) 79
Upper End of the Supper-table (February 15, 1895) 83
Stopping a Dog-fight 85
Lower End of Supper-table 87
The Crew of the "Fram" after Their Second Winter
(About February 24, 1895) 93
The "Fram" in the Ice (1895) 103
Sunday Afternoon on Board 107
The Cooking Apparatus 122
The Start from the "Fram" (March 14, 1895) 133
Our Last Camp before Parting from Our Comrades 137
A Night Camp on the Journey North 154
Tailpiece 156
Northward through the Drift-snow (April, 1895) 159
Nothing but Ice, Ice to the Horizon (April 7, 1895)
Facing p. 162
Over Difficult Pressure-mounds (April, 1895) 165
"I Went on Ahead on Snow-shoes" 169
"On Tolerably Good Ground" 171
Our Northernmost Camp, 86° 13.6' N. Lat. (April 8, 1895) 173
"Baro," the Runaway Facing p. 178
Rest (April, 1895) 181
Johansen Carving our Names in a Stock of Driftwood 185
Peculiar Ice Stratification (April, 1895) 187
"We Made Fairly Good Progress" 203
Repairing the Kayaks 240
A Coign of Vantage. Packed Ice 251
"A Curdled Sea" 257
Channels in the Ice in Summer (june, 1895) 263
"Suggen." "Kaifas" 277
Crossing a Crack in the Ice 287
Johansen Sitting in the Sleeping-bag in the Hut 293
Channels in the Ice (June 24, 1895) 297
My Last Dog, "Kaifas" 307
"Incredibly Slow Progress" 323
"This Inconceivable Toil" 327
"You Must Look Sharp!" 330
We Reach the Open Water (August 6, 1895) 337
Iceberg on the North Side of Franz Josef Land 351
A Paddle along the Edge of the Ice 359
Glazier--Franz Josef Land 361
A Camp on the Coast of Franz Josef Land 367
Crack in the Ice 375
"Sailing along the Coast" 378
A Fight against the Storm to Reach Land (August 29,
1895) 381
Walruses 387
We Build Our First Hut 390
Walruses 397
"In the Water Lay Walruses" 409
"I Photographed Him and the Walrus" 417
"It Gazed Wickedly at Us" 419
At Our Winter Quarters 431
An Illegible Page from Diary 437
Our Winter Hut (December 31, 1895) 451
"Life in Our Hut" 456
"Johansen Fired through the Opening" 468
"Our Winter Lair" 489
Southward (May, 1896) 491
Over the Ice towards the Island (May, 24, 1896) 495
A Sail with Sledges. South of Cape Richthofen (June 6,
1896) 507
"I Managed to Swing One Leg Up" 515
"It Tried to Upset Me" 520
Our Last Camp 523
Franz Josef Land 528
Meeting of Jackson and Nansen 531
Mr. Jackson's Station at Cape Flora 535
Nansen at Cape Flora 537
A Chat after Dinner 541
The Wounded Bear 543
Johansen at Cape Flora 545
A Visitor 547
Jackson on Cape Flora 551
Basaltic Rock 554
A Strange Rock of Basalt 559
Plant Fossils 561
Kittiwake on Her Nest 565
Basaltic Cliffs 567
Mr. Jackson at Elmwood 569
Johansen in Jackson's Saloon 571
Cape Flora. Farewell to Franz Josef Land 577
"We Stood Looking over the Sea" 580
Arrival at Hammerfest 587
The "Windward" Leaving Tromsö 591
Tailpiece 597
Original Map of Kaiser Franz Josef Land 599
APPENDIX
Digging Out the "Fram" (March, 1895) 603
The "Fram" when Dug Out of the Pressure-mound at the
End of March, 1895 607
Fitting the Hand-sledges with Runners (July, 1895) 611
View over the Drift-ice. Depot in Foreground 615
Pressure-mound near the "Fram" (April, 1895) 621
Ice-smithy (May, 1895) 625
The "Fram" Before Her Release 627
The Procession (May 17, 1895) 629
Tailpiece 632
Channel Astern of the "Fram" (June, 1895) 635
Movable Meteorological Station on the Ice (July, 1895) 639
Observation with Sextant and Artificial Horizon (July,
1895) 645
Cleaning the Accumulators before Stowing Away (July,
1895) 653
Workshop on Deck (July, 1895) 659
Pettersen and Blessing on a Hummock (April, 1895) 673
Lars Pettersen on Snow-shoes 679
Tailpiece 682
Flaying Walruses 697
Tailpiece 706
The Members of the Expedition after Their Return to
Christiania 709
COLORED PLATES IN VOL. II.
Facing p.
IX. Light Phenomena in the Polar Night (November 22, 1893) 96
X. The Polar Night (November 24, 1893) 176
XI. Moon-ring with Mock Moons, and a Suggestion
of Horizontal Axes (November 24, 1893) 248
XII. Moonlight Phenomena at the Beginning of the
Polar Night (November, 1893) 320
XIII. Streamers of Aurora Borealis (November 28, 1893) 400
XIV. Ice near the "Fram" (July 4, 1894) 472
XV. Aurora Borealis (October 18, 1894) 584
XVI. An Auroral Crown (December, 1894) 664
FARTHEST NORTH
CHAPTER I
WE PREPARE FOR THE SLEDGE EXPEDITION
Who are to be the two members of the expedition? Sverdrup and I have
tested each other before at this sort of work, and we could manage
very well; but we cannot both leave the Fram: that is perfectly clear
without further argument. One of us must remain behind to take on
himself the responsibility of bringing the others home in safety;
but it is equally clear that one of us two must conduct the sledge
expedition, as it is we who have the necessary experience. Sverdrup
has a great desire to go; but I cannot think otherwise than that
there is more risk in leaving the Fram than in remaining on board
her. Consequently if I were to let him go, I should be transferring
to him the more dangerous task, while keeping the easier one to
myself. If he perished, should I ever be able to forgive myself for
letting him go, even if it was at his own desire? He is nine years
older than I am; I should certainly feel it to be a very uncomfortable
responsibility. And as regards our comrades, which of us would it be
most to their interest to keep on board? I think they have confidence
in both of us, and I think either of us would be able to take them
home in safety, whether with or without the Fram. But the ship is
his especial charge, while on me rests the conduct of the whole,
and especially of the scientific investigations; so that I ought to
undertake the task in which important discoveries are to be made. Those
who remain with the ship will be able, as aforesaid, to carry on the
observations which are to be made on board. It is my duty therefore,
to go, and his to remain behind. He, too, thinks this reasonable.
I have chosen Johansen to be my companion, and he is in all respects
well qualified for that work. He is an accomplished snow-shoer, and
few can equal his powers of endurance--a fine fellow, physically and
mentally. I have not yet asked him, but think of doing so soon, in
order that he may be prepared betimes. Blessing and Hansen also would
certainly be all eagerness to accompany me; but Hansen must remain
behind to take charge of the observations, and Blessing cannot desert
his post as doctor. Several of the others, too, would do quite well,
and would, I doubt not, be willing enough.
This expedition to the north, then, is provisionally decided on. I
shall see what the winter will bring us. Light permitting, I should
prefer to start in February.
"Sunday, November 18th. It seems as if I could not properly realize
the idea that I am really to set out, and that in three months'
time. Sometimes I delude myself with charming dreams of my return
home after toil and victory, and then all is clear and bright. Then
these are succeeded by thoughts of the uncertainty and deceptiveness
of the future and what may be lurking in it, and my dreams fade away
like the northern lights, pale and colorless.
"'Ihr naht euch wieder, schwankende Gestalten.'
"Ugh! These everlasting cold fits of doubt! Before every decisive
resolution the dice of death must be thrown. Is there too much to
venture, and too little to gain? There is more to be gained, at all
events, than there is here. Then is it not my duty? Besides, there
is only one to whom I am responsible, and she...? I shall come back,
I know it. I have strength enough for the task. 'Be thou true unto
death, and thou shalt inherit the crown of life.'
"We are oddly constructed machines. At one moment all resolution,
at the next all doubt.... To-day our intellect, our science, all our
'Leben und Treiben,' seem but a pitiful Philistinism, not worth a pipe
of tobacco; to-morrow we throw ourselves heart and soul into these very
researches, consumed with a burning thirst, to absorb everything into
ourselves, longing to spy out fresh paths, and fretting impatiently
at our inability to solve the problem fully and completely. Then down
we sink again in disgust at the worthlessness of it all.
"'As a grain of dust on the balance is the whole world; as a drop of
morning dew that falls on the ground.' If man has two souls, which
then is the right one?
"It is nothing new to suffer from the fact that our knowledge can
be but fragmentary, that we can never fathom what lies behind. But
suppose, now, that we could reckon it out, that the inmost secret of
it all lay as clear and plain to us as a rule-of-three sum, should
we be any the happier? Possibly just the reverse. Is it not in the
struggle to attain knowledge that happiness consists? I am very
ignorant, consequently the conditions of happiness are mine.
"Let me fill a soothing pipe and be happy.
"No, the pipe is not a success. Twist tobacco is not delicate enough
for airy dreams. Let me get a cigar. Oh, if one had a real Havana!
"H'm! as if dissatisfaction, longing, suffering, were not the very
basis of life. Without privation there would be no struggle, and
without struggle no life, that is as certain as that two and two make
four. And now the struggle is to begin; it is looming yonder in the
north. Oh, to drink delight of battle in long, deep draughts! Battle
means life, and behind it victory beckons us on.
"I close my eyes. I hear a voice singing to me:
"'In amongst the fragrant birch,
In amongst the flowers' perfume,
Deep into the pine-wood's church.'
"Monday, November 19th. Confounded affectation all this Weltschmerz;
you have no right to be anything but a happy man. And if you feel out
of spirits, it ought to cheer you up simply to go on deck and look at
these seven puppies that come frisking and springing about you, and
are ready to tear you to pieces in sheer enjoyment of life. Life is
sunshine to them, though the sun has long since gone, and they live on
deck beneath a tent, so that they cannot even see the stars. There is
'Kvik,' the mother of the family, among them, looking so plump and
contented as she wags her tail. Have you not as much reason to be
happy as they? Yet they too have their misfortunes. The afternoon of
the day before yesterday, as I was sitting at work, I heard the mill
going round and round, and Peter taking food to the puppies, which,
as usual, had a bit of a fight over the meat-pan; and it struck
me that the axle of the mill whirling unguarded on the deck was
an extremely dangerous affair for them. Ten minutes later I heard
a dog howling, a more long-drawn, uncomfortable kind of howl than
was usual when they were fighting, and at the same moment the mill
slowed down. I rushed out. There I saw a puppy right in the axle,
whirling round with it and howling piteously, so that it cut one to
the soul. Bentzen was hanging on to the brake-rope, hauling at it
with all his might and main; but still the mill went round. My first
idea was to seize an axe that was lying there to put the dog out of
its misery, its cries were so heartrending; but on second thoughts I
hurried on to help Bentzen, and we got the mill stopped. At the same
moment Mogstad also came up, and while we held the mill he managed
to set the puppy free. Apparently there was still some life in it,
and he set to work to rub it gently and coax it. The hair of its
coat had somehow or other got frozen on to the smooth steel axle,
and the poor beast had been swung round and bumped on the deck at
every revolution of the wheel. At last it actually raised its head,
and looked round in a dazed way. It had made a good many revolutions,
so that it is no wonder if it found some difficulty in getting its
bearings at first. Then it raised itself on its fore-paws, and I took
it aft to the half-deck and stroked and patted it. Soon it got on all
four legs again, and began shambling about, without knowing where it
was going.
"'It is a good thing it was caught by the hair,' said Bentzen,
'I thought it was hanging fast by its tongue, as the other one
did.' Only think of being fixed by the tongue to a revolving axle--the
mere notion makes one shudder! I took the poor thing down into the
saloon and did all I could for it. It soon got all right again,
and began playing with its companions as before. A strange life to
rummage about on deck in the dark and cold; but whenever one goes
up with a lantern they come tearing round, stare at the light, and
begin bounding and dancing and gambolling with each other round it,
like children round a Christmas-tree. This goes on day after day, and
they have never seen anything else than this deck with a tarpaulin
over it, not even the clear blue sky; and we men have never seen
anything else than this earth!
"The last step over the bridge of resolution has now been taken. In
the forenoon I explained the whole matter to Johansen in pretty
much the same terms as I have used above; and then I expatiated on
the difficulties that might occur, and laid strong emphasis on the
dangers one must be prepared to encounter. It was a serious matter--a
matter of life or death--this one must not conceal from one's self. He
must think the thing well over before determining whether he would
accompany me or not. If he was willing to come I should be glad to
have him with me; but I would rather, I said, he should take a day
or two to think it well over before he gave me his answer. He did
not need any time for reflection, he said; he was quite willing
to go. Sverdrup had long ago mentioned the possibility of such an
expedition, and he had thought it well over, and made up his mind
that if my choice should fall on him he would take it as a great
favor to be permitted to accompany me. 'I don't know whether you'll
be satisfied with this answer, or whether you would like me still
to think it over; but I should certainly never change my mind.' 'No,
if you have already thought it seriously over--thought what risks you
expose yourself to--the chance, for instance, that neither of us may
ever see the face of man again--and if you have reflected that even
if we get through safe and sound you must necessarily face a great
deal of hardship on an expedition like this--if you have made up your
mind to all this I don't insist on your reflecting any longer about
it.' 'Yes, that I have.' 'Well, then, that is settled. To-morrow
we shall begin our preparations for the trip. Hansen must see about
appointing another meteorological assistant.'
"Tuesday, November 20th. This evening I delivered an address to the
whole ship's company, in which I announced the determination that had
been arrived at, and explained to them the projected expedition. First
of all, I briefly went through the whole theory of our undertaking,
and its history from the beginning, laying stress on the idea on
which my plans had been built up--namely, that a vessel which got
frozen in north of Siberia must drift across the Polar Sea and
out into the Atlantic, and must pass somewhere or other north of
Franz Josef Land and between it and the Pole. The object of the
expedition was to accomplish this drift across the unknown sea,
and to pursue investigations there. I pointed out to them that these
investigations would be of equal importance whether the expedition
actually passed across the Pole itself or at some distance from
it. Judging from our experiences hitherto, we could not entertain any
doubt that the expedition would solve the problem it had set before it;
everything had up to the present gone according to our anticipations,
and it was to be hoped and expected that this would continue to be
the case for the remainder of the voyage. We had, therefore, every
prospect of accomplishing the principal part of our task; but then the
question arose whether more could not be accomplished, and thereupon
I proceeded to explain, in much the same terms as I have used above,
how this might be effected by an expedition northward.
"I had the impression that every one was deeply interested in the
projected expedition, and that they all thought it most desirable
that it should be attempted. The greatest objection, I think, they
would have urged against it, had they been asked, would have been
that they themselves could not take part in it. I impressed on them,
however, that while it was unquestionably a fine thing to push on
as far as possible towards the north, it was no whit less honorable
an undertaking to bring the Fram safe and sound right through the
Polar Sea, and out on the other side; or if not the Fram, at all
events themselves without any loss of life. This done, we might say,
without fear of contradiction, that it was well done. I think they
all saw the force of this, and were satisfied. So now the die is cast,
and I must believe that this expedition will really take place."
So we set about our preparations for it in downright earnest. I have
already mentioned that at the end of the summer I had begun to make
a kayak for a single man, the frame of which was of bamboo carefully
lashed together. It was rather slow work, and took several weeks,
but it turned out both light and strong. When completed the framework
weighed 16 pounds. It was afterwards covered with sail-cloth by
Sverdrup and Blessing, when the whole boat weighed 30 pounds. After
finishing this I had intrusted Mogstad with the task of building
a similar one. Johansen and I now set to work to make a cover for
it. These kayaks were 3.70 metres (12 feet) long, about O.7 metre (28
inches) wide in the middle, and one was 30 centims. (12 inches) and
the other 38 centims. (15 inches) deep. This is considerably shorter
and wider than an ordinary Eskimo kayak, and consequently these boats
were not so light to propel through the water. But as they were chiefly
intended for crossing over channels and open spaces in the ice, and
coasting along possible land, speed was not of much importance. The
great thing was that the boats should be strong and light, and should
be able to carry, in addition to ourselves, provisions and equipments
for a considerable time. If we had made them longer and narrower,
besides being heavier they would have been more exposed to injury in
the course of transport over the uneven ice. As they were built they
proved admirably adapted for our purpose. When we loaded them with
care we could stow away in them provisions and equipment for three
months at least for ourselves, besides a good deal of food for the
dogs; and we could, moreover, carry a dog or two on the deck. In
other respects they were essentially like the Eskimo kayaks, full
decked, save for an aperture in the middle for a man to sit in. This
aperture was encircled by a wooden ring, after the Eskimo fashion,
over which we could slip the lower part of our sealskin jackets,
specially adjusted for this purpose, so that the junction between
boat and jacket was water-tight. When these jackets were drawn tight
round the wrists and face the sea might sweep right over us without a
drop of water coming into the kayak. We had to provide ourselves with
such boats in case of having to cross open stretches of sea on our
way to Spitzbergen, or, if we chose the other route, between Franz
Josef Land and Novaya Zemlya. Besides this aperture in the middle,
there were small trap-doors fore and aft in the deck, to enable us
to put our hands in and stow the provisions, and also get things out
more readily, without having to take out all the freight through the
middle aperture, in case what we wanted lay at either extremity. These
trap-doors, however, could be closed so as to be quite water-tight. To
make the canvas quite impervious to water, the best plan would have
been to have sized it, and then painted it externally with ordinary
oil paint; but, on the one hand, it was very difficult to do this
work in the extreme cold (in the hold the temperature was -20° C., -4°
Fahr.), and, on the other hand, I was afraid the paint might render the
canvas too hard and brittle, and apt to have holes knocked in it during
transport over the ice. Therefore I preferred to steep it in a mixture
of paraffin and tallow, which added somewhat to the weight of the
kayaks, so that altogether they came to weigh about 36 pounds apiece.
I had, moreover, some hand-sledges made especially for this expedition;
they were supple and strong, designed to withstand the severe tests
to which an expedition with dogs and heavy freights over the uneven
drift-ice would necessarily expose them. Two of these sledges were
about the same length as the kayaks--that is, 12 feet. I also made
several experiments with respect to the clothes we should wear,
and was especially anxious to ascertain whether it would do to go in
our thick wolfskin garments, but always came to the conclusion that
they were too warm. Thus, on November 29th I write: "Took another
walk northward in my wolfskin dress; but it is still too mild (-37.6°
C.). I sweated like a horse, though I went fasting and quite gently. It
is rather heavy going now in the dark when one cannot use snowshoes. I
wonder when it will be cold enough to use this dress."
On December 9th again we went out on snow-shoes. "It was -41°
C. (-41.8° Fahr.). Went in wolfskin dress, but the perspiration poured
down our backs enough to turn a mill. Too warm yet; goodness knows
if it ever will be cold enough."
Of course, we made some experiments with the tent and with the cooking
apparatus. On December 7th I write: "I pitched the silk tent we are
going to take, and used our cooking apparatus in it. From repeated
trials it appeared that from ice of -35° C. (-31° Fahr.), we boiled
3 litres of water (5 1/4 pints), and at the same time melted 5 litres
(8 3/4 pints) in an hour and a half, with a consumption of about 120
grammes of snowflake petroleum. Next day we boiled 2 1/2 litres of
water (over 4 pints), and melted 2 1/2 litres in one hour with 100
grammes of snowflake petroleum. Yesterday we made about two litres of
excellent oatmeal porridge, and at the same time got some half-melted
ice and a little water in little over half an hour, with 50 grammes
of snowflake petroleum. Thus there will be no very great consumption
of fuel in the day."
Then I made all kinds of calculations and computations in order to
find out what would be the most advantageous kind of provisions for
our expedition, where it was of the greatest moment that the food
both for dogs and men should be nutritious, and yet should not weigh
more than was absolutely necessary. Later on, in the list of our
equipments, I shall give the final result of my deliberations on this
matter. Besides all this, we had, of course, to consider and test the
instruments to be taken with us, and to go into many other matters,
which, though perhaps trifles in themselves, were yet absolutely
necessary. It is on the felicitous combination of all these trifles
that ultimate success depends.
We two passed the greater portion of our time in these preparations,
which also kept many of the others pretty busy during the
winter. Mogstad, for instance, found steady employment in making
sledges and fitting them with runners, etc. Sverdrup busied himself
in making sleeping-bags and many other things. Juell was appointed
dog-tailor, and when he was not busy in the galley, his time was
devoted to taking the measurements of the dogs, making harness
for them and testing it. Blessing, too, fitted up for us a small,
light medicine-chest, containing selected drugs, bandages, and such
other things as might be of use. One man was constantly employed
in copying out all our journals and scientific observations, etc.,
etc., on thin paper in a contracted form, as I wanted, by way of
doubly assuring their preservation, to take a copy of them along
with me. Hansen was occupied in preparing tabular forms necessary
for our observations, curves of the movement of our chronometers,
and other such things. Besides this, he was to make a complete chart
of our voyage and drifting up to the present time.
I could not, however, lay too great a claim on his valuable
time, as it was necessary that he should continue his scientific
observations without interruption. During this autumn he had greatly
increased the comfort of his work by building, along with Johansen, an
observation-hut of snow, not unlike an Eskimo cabin. He found himself
very much at his ease in it, with a petroleum lamp hanging from the
roof, the light of which, being reflected by the white snow walls,
made quite a brilliant show. Here he could manipulate his instruments
quietly and comfortably, undisturbed by the biting wind outside. He
thought it quite warm there, too, when he could get the temperature up
to something like 20° below freezing-point, so that he was able without
much inconvenience to adjust his instruments with bare hands. Here he
worked away indefatigably at his observations day after day, watching
the often mysterious movements of the magnetic needle, which would
sometimes give him no end of trouble. One day--it was November 24th--he
came into supper a little after 6 o'clock quite alarmed and said,
"There has just been a singular inclination of the needle to 24°, and,
remarkably enough, its northern extremity pointed to the east. I cannot
remember ever having heard of such an inclination." He also had several
others of about 15°. At the same time, through the opening into his
observatory he noticed that it was unusually light out-of-doors, and
that not only the ship, but the ice in the distance, was as plainly
visible as if it had been full moonlight. No aurora, however, could
be discerned through the thick clouds that covered the sky. It would
appear, then, that this unusual inclination was in some way connected
with the northern lights, though it was to the east and not to the
west, as usual. There could be no question of any disturbance of the
floe on which we were lying; for everything had been perfectly still
and quiet, and it is inconceivable that a disturbance which could
cause such a remarkable oscillation of two points and back again in
so short a space of time should not have been noticed and heard on
board. This theory, therefore, is entirely excluded, and the whole
matter seems to me, for the present, to be incomprehensible. Blessing
and I at once went on deck to look at the sky. Certainly it was so
light that we could see the lanes in the ice astern quite plainly;
but there was nothing remarkable in that, it happened often enough.
"Friday, November 30th. I found a bear's track on the ice in front
of our bow. The bear had come from the east, trotting very gently
along the lane, on the newly frozen ice, but he must have been scared
by something or other ahead of the vessel, as he had gone off again
with long strides in the same direction in which he had come. Strange
that living creatures should be roaming about in this desert. What
can they have to do here? If only one had such a stomach one could
at least stand a journey to the Pole and back without a meal. We
shall probably have him back again soon--that is, if I understand
his nature aright--and then perhaps he will come a little closer,
so that we may have a good look at him. [1]
"I paced the lane in front of the port bow. It was 348 paces across,
and maintained the same width for a considerable distance eastward;
nor can it be much narrower for a great distance to the west. Now,
when one bears in mind that the lane behind us is also of considerable
width, it is rather consoling, after all, to think that the ice does
permit of such large openings. There must be room enough to drift,
if we only get wind--wind which will never come. On the whole,
November has been an uncommonly wretched month. Driven back instead
of forward--and yet this month was so good last year. But one can
never rely on the seasons in this dreadful sea; taking all in all,
perhaps, the winter will not be a bit better than the summer. Yet,
it surely must improve--I cannot believe otherwise.
"The skies are clouded with a thick veil, through which the stars
barely glisten. It is darker than usual, and in this eternal night
we drift about, lonely and forsaken, 'for the whole world was filled
with a shining light and undisturbed activity. Above those men alone
brooded nought but depressing night--an image of that gloom which
was soon to swallow them up.'
"This dark, deep, silent void is like the mysterious, unfathomable
well into which you look for that something which you think must
be there, only to meet the reflection of your own eyes. Ugh! the
worn-out thoughts you can never get rid of become in the end very
wearisome company. Is there no means of fleeing from one's self, to
grasp one single thought--only a single one, which lies outside one's
self--is there no way except death? But death is certain; one day it
will come, silent and majestic; it will open Nirvana's mighty portal,
and we shall be swept away into the sea of eternity.
"Sunday, December 2d. Sverdrup has now been ill for some days;
during the last day or two he has been laid up in his berth, and
is still there. I trust it is nothing serious; he himself thinks
nothing of it, nevertheless it is very disquieting. Poor fellow,
he lives entirely on oatmeal gruel. It is an intestinal catarrh,
which he probably contracted through catching cold on the ice. I am
afraid he has been rather careless in this respect. However, he is
now improving, so that probably it will soon pass off; but it is a
warning not to be over-confident. I went for a long walk this morning
along the lane; it is quite a large one, extending a good way to the
east, and being of considerable breadth at some points. It is only
after walking for a while on the newly frozen ice, where walking is
as easy and comfortable as on a well-trodden path, and then coming up
to the snow-covered surface of the old ice again, that one thoroughly
appreciates for the first time what it means to go without snow-shoes;
the difference is something marvellous. Even if I have not felt warm
before, I break out into a perspiration after going a short distance
over the rough ice. But what can one do? One cannot use snow-shoes;
it is so dark that it is difficult enough to grope one's way about
with ordinary boots, and even then one stumbles about or slips down
between great blocks of ice.
"I am now reading the various English stories of the polar expeditions
during the Franklin period, and the search for him, and I must admit
I am filled with admiration for these men and the amount of labor
they expended. The English nation, truly, has cause to be proud of
them. I remember reading these stories as a lad, and all my boyish
fancies were strangely thrilled with longing for the scenery and
the scenes which were displayed before me. I am reading them now as
a man, after having had a little experience myself; and now, when
my mind is uninfluenced by romance, I bow in admiration. There was
grit in men like Parry, Franklin, James Ross, Richardson, and last,
but not least, in M'Clintock, and, indeed, in all the rest. How
well was their equipment thought out and arranged, with the means
they had at their disposal! Truly, there is nothing new under the
sun. Most of what I prided myself upon, and what I thought to be new,
I find they had anticipated. M'Clintock used the same thing forty
years ago. It was not their fault that they were born in a country
where the use of snow-shoes is unknown, and where snow is scarcely
to be found throughout the whole winter. Nevertheless, despite the
fact that they had to gain their experience of snow and snow travel
during their sojourn up here; despite the fact that they were without
snow-shoes and had to toil on as best they could with sledges with
narrow runners over uneven snow-covered drift-ice--what distances did
they not cover, what fatigues and trials did they not endure! No one
has surpassed and scarcely any one approached them, unless, perhaps,
the Russians on the Siberian coast; but then they have the great
advantage of being natives of a country where snow is not uncommon.
"Friday, December 14th. Yesterday we held a great festivity in honor
of the Fram as being the vessel which has attained the highest latitude
(the day before yesterday we reached 82° 30' north latitude).
"The bill of fare at dinner was boiled mackerel, with parsely-butter
sauce; pork cutlets and French pease; Norwegian wild strawberries,
with rice and milk; Crown malt extract; afterwards coffee. For supper:
new bread and currant cake, etc., etc. Later in the evening, a grand
concert. Sweets and preserved pears were handed round. The culminating
point of the entertainment was reached when a steaming hot and fragrant
bowl of cherry-punch was carried in and served round amidst general
hilarity. Our spirits were already very high, but this gave color to
the whole proceedings. The greatest puzzle to most of them was where
the ingredients for the punch, and more particularly the alcohol,
had come from. [2]
"Then followed the toasts. First, a long and festive one to 'The
Fram,' which had now shown what she was capable of. It ran somewhat
to this effect: 'There were many wise men who shook their heads
when we started, and sent us ominous farewell greetings. But their
head-shakings would have been less vigorous and their evil forebodings
milder if they could have seen us at this moment, drifting quietly
and at our ease across the most northerly latitudes ever attained by
any vessel, and still farther northward. And the Fram is now not only
the most northerly vessel on the globe, but has already passed over
a large expanse of hitherto unknown regions, many degrees farther
north than have ever been reached in this ocean on this side of the
Pole. But we hope she will not stop here; concealed behind the mist of
the future there are many triumphs in store for us--triumphs which will
dawn upon us one by one when their time has come. But we will not speak
of this now; we will be content with what has hitherto been achieved,
and I believe that the promise implied in Björnson's greeting to us
and to the Fram, when she was launched, has already been fulfilled,
and with him we can exclaim:
"'"Hurrah for the ship and her voyage dread!
Where never before a keel has sped,
Where never before a name was spoken,
By Norway's name is the silence broken.'"
"'We could not help a peculiar feeling, almost akin to shame, when
comparing the toil and privation, and frequently incredible sufferings,
undergone by our predecessors in earlier expeditions with the easy
manner in which we are drifting across unknown expanses of our globe
larger than it has been the lot of most, if not all, of the former
polar explorers to travel over at a stretch. Yes, truly, I think we
have every reason to be satisfied with our voyage so far and with the
Fram, and I trust we shall be able to bring something back to Norway
in return for the trust, the sympathy, and the money which she has
expended on us. But let us not on this account forget our predecessors;
let us admire them for the way in which they struggled and endured;
let us remember that it is only through their labors and achievements
that the way has been prepared for the present voyage. It is owing to
their collective experience that man has now got so far as to be able
to cope to some extent with what has hitherto been his most dangerous
and obstinate enemy in the Arctic regions--viz., the drift-ice--and to
do so by the very simple expedient of going with it and not against it,
and allowing one's self to be hemmed in by it, not involuntarily, but
intentionally, and preparing for it beforehand. On board this vessel
we try to cull the fruits of all our predecessors' experiences. It
has taken years to collect them; but I felt that with these I should
be enabled to face any vicissitude of fate in unknown waters. I think
we have been fortunate. I think we are all of the opinion that there
is no imaginable difficulty or obstacle before us that we ought not
to be able to overcome with the means and resources we possess on
board, and be thus enabled to return at last to Norway safe and sound,
with a rich harvest. Therefore let us drink a bumper to the Fram!'
"Next there followed some musical items and a performance by Lars,
the smith, who danced a pas seul, to the great amusement of the
company. Lars assured us that if he ever reached home again and were
present at a gathering similar to those held at Christiania and Bergen
on our departure, his legs should be taxed to their uttermost. This
was followed by a toast to those at home who were waiting for us
year after year, not knowing where to picture us in thought, who
were vainly yearning for tidings of us, but whose faith in us and
our voyage was still firm--to those who consented to our departure,
and who may well be said to have made the greatest sacrifice.
"The festivity continued with music and merriment throughout the
evening, and our good humor was certainly not spoiled when our
excellent doctor came forward with cigars--a commodity which is
getting highly valued up here, as, unfortunately it is becoming very
scarce. The only cloud in our existence is that Sverdrup has not yet
quite recovered from his catarrh. He must keep strict diet, and this
does not at all suit him, poor fellow! He is only allowed wheaten
bread, milk, raw bear's flesh, and oatmeal porridge; whereas if he
had his own way he would eat everything, including cake, preserves,
and fruit. But he has returned to duty now, and has already been out
for a turn on the ice.
"It was late at night when I retired to my cabin, but I was not yet
in a fit mood to go to sleep. I felt I must go out and saunter in the
wonderful moonlight. Around the moon there was, as usual, a large ring,
and above it there was an arc, which just touched it at the upper edge,
but the two ends of which curved downward instead of upward. It looked
as if it were part of a circle whose centre was situated far below
the moon. At the lower edge of the ring there was a large mock moon,
or, rather, a large luminous patch, which was most pronounced at the
upper part, where it touched the ring, and had a yellow upper edge,
from which it spread downward in the form of a triangle. It looked
as if it might be an arc of a circle on the lower side of, and in
contact with, the ring. Right across the moon there were drifting
several luminous cirrus streaks. The whole produced a fantastic effect.
"Saturday, December 22d. The same southeasterly wind has turned into a
regular storm, howling and rattling cheerily through the rigging, and
we are doubtless drifting northward at a good rate. If I go outside
the tent on deck, the wind whistles round my ears, and the snow
beats into my face, and I am soon covered with it. From the snow-hut
observatory, or even at a lesser distance, the Fram is invisible, and
it is almost impossible to keep one's eyes open, owing to the blinding
snow. I wonder whether we have not passed 83°? But I am afraid this
joy will not be a lasting one; the barometer has fallen alarmingly,
and the wind has generally been up to 13 or 14 metres (44 or 50 feet)
per second. About half-past twelve last night the vessel suddenly
received a strong pressure, rattling everything on board. I could
feel the vibration under me for a long time afterwards while lying
in my berth. Finally, I could hear the roaring and grating caused by
the ice-pressure. I told the watch to listen carefully, and ascertain
where the pressure was, and to notice whether the floe on which we
were lying was likely to crack, and whether any part of our equipment
was in danger. He thought he could hear the noise of ice-pressure
both forward and aft, but it was not easy to distinguish it from
the roar of the tempest in the rigging. To-day about 12.30 P.M. the
Fram received another violent shock, even stronger than that we had
experienced during the night. There was another shake a little later;
I suppose there has been a pressure aft, but could hear nothing for
the storm. It is odd about this pressure: one would think that the wind
was the primary cause; but it recurs pretty regularly, notwithstanding
the fact that the spring-tide has not yet set in; indeed, when it
commenced a few days ago it was almost a neap-tide. In addition to
the pressure of yesterday and last night, we had pressure on Thursday
morning at half-past nine and again at half-past eleven. It was so
strong that Peter, who was at the sounding-hole, jumped up repeatedly,
thinking that the ice would burst underneath him. It is very singular,
we have been quiet for so long now that we feel almost nervous when
the Fram receives those shocks; everything seems to tremble as if in
a violent earthquake.
"Sunday, December 23d. Wind still unchanged, and blowing equally
fresh, up to 13 or 14 metres (44 or 47 feet). The snow is drifting
and sweeping so that nothing can be distinguished; the darkness is
intense. Abaft on the deck there are deep mounds of snow lying round
the wheel and the rails, so that when we go up on deck we get a genuine
sample of an Arctic winter. The outlook is enough to make you shudder,
and feel grateful that instead of having to turn out in such weather,
you may dive back again into the tent, and down the companionway into
your warm bunk; but soon, no doubt, Johansen and I will have to face
it out, day and night, even in such weather as this, whether we like
it or not. This morning Pettersen, who has had charge of the dogs
this week, came down to the saloon and asked whether some one would
come out with him on the ice with a rifle, as he was sure there
was a bear. Peter and I went, but we could not find anything. The
dogs left off barking when we arrived on the scene, and commenced to
play with each other. But Pettersen was right in saying that it was
'horrid weather,' it was almost enough to take away one's breath to
face the wind, and the drifting snow forced its way into the mouth
and nostrils. The vessel could not be distinguished beyond a few
paces, so that it was not advisable to go any distance away from her,
and it was very difficult to walk; for, what with snow-drifts and
ice-mounds, at one moment you stumbled against the frozen edge of
a snow-drift, at another you tumbled into a hole. It was pitch-dark
all round. The barometer had been falling steadily and rapidly, but
at last it has commenced to rise slightly. It now registers about
726 mm. (28.6 inches). The thermometer, as usual, is describing the
inverse curve. In the afternoon it rose steadily until it registered
-21.3°C. Now it appears to be falling again a little, but the wind
still keeps exactly in the same quarter. It has surely shifted us
by now a good way to the north, well beyond the 83d degree. It is
quite pleasant to hear the wind whistling and rattling in the rigging
overhead. Alas! we know that all terrestrial bliss is short-lived.
"About midnight the mate, who has the watch, comes down and reports
that the ice has cracked just beyond the thermometer house, between
it and the sounding-hole. This is the same crack that we had in
the summer, and it has now burst open again, and probably the whole
floe in which we are lying is split from the lane ahead to the lane
astern of us. The thermograph and other instruments are being brought
on board, so that we may run no risk of losing them in the event of
pressure of ice. But otherwise there is scarcely anything that could
be endangered. The sounding apparatus is at some distance from the
open channel, on the other side. The only thing left there is the
shears with the iron block standing over the hole.
"Thursday, December 27th. Christmas has come round again, and we
are still so far from home. How dismal it all is! Nevertheless, I am
not melancholy. I might rather say I am glad; I feel as if awaiting
something great which lies hidden in the future; after long hours
of uncertainty I can now discern the end of this dark night; I have
no doubt all will turn out successfully, that the voyage is not in
vain and the time not wasted, and that our hopes will be realized. An
explorer's lot is, perhaps, hard and his life full of disappointments,
as they all say; but it is also full of beautiful moments--moments
when he beholds the triumphs of human faith and human will, when he
catches sight of the haven of success and peace.
"I am in a singular frame of mind just now, in a state of sheer
unrest. I have not felt inclined for writing during the last few days;
thoughts come and go, and carry me irresistibly ahead. I can scarcely
make myself out, but who can fathom the depths of the human mind. The
brain is a puzzling piece of mechanism: 'We are such stuff as dreams
are made of.' Is it so? I almost believe it--a microcosm of eternity's
infinite 'stuff that dreams are made of.'
"This is the second Christmas spent far away in the solitude of night,
in the realm of death, farther north and deeper into the midst of
it than any one has been before. There is something strange in the
feeling; and then this, too, is our last Christmas on board the
Fram. It makes one almost sad to think of it. The vessel is like a
second home, and has become dear to us. Perhaps our comrades may spend
another Christmas here, possibly several, without us who will go forth
from them into the midst of the solitude. This Christmas passed off
quietly and pleasantly, and every one seems to be well content. By no
means the least circumstance that added to our enjoyment was that the
wind brought us the 83d degree as a Christmas-box. Our luck was, this
time, more lasting than I had anticipated; the wind continued fresh
on Monday and Tuesday, but little by little it lulled down and veered
round to the north and northeast. Yesterday and to-day it has been in
the northwest. Well, we must put up with it; one cannot help having
a little contrary wind at times, and probably it will not last long.
"Christmas-eve was, of course, celebrated with great feasting. The
table presented a truly imposing array of Christmas confectionery:
'Poor man's' pastry, 'Staghorn' pastry, honey-cakes, macaroons,
'Sister' cake, and what not, besides sweets and the like; many may
have fared worse. Moreover, Blessing and I had worked during the day
in the sweat of our brow and produced a 'Polar Champagne 83d Degree,'
which made a sensation, and which we two, at least, believed we had
every reason to be proud of, being a product derived from the noble
grape of the polar regions--viz., the cloudberry (multer). The others
seemed to enjoy it too, and, of course, many toasts were drunk in
this noble beverage. Quantities of illustrated books were then brought
forth; there was music, and stories, and songs, and general merriment.
"On Christmas day, of course, we had a special dinner. After dinner
coffee and curaçao made here on board, and Nordahl then came forward
with Russian cigarettes. At night a bowl of cloudberry punch was
served out, which did not seem by any means unwelcome. Mogstad
played the violin, and Pettersen was electrified thereby to such a
degree that he sang and danced to us. He really exhibits considerable
talent as a comedian, and has a decided bent towards the ballet. It
is astonishing what versatility he displays: engineer, blacksmith,
tinsmith, cook, master of ceremonies, comedian, dancer, and, last
of all, he has come out in the capacity of a first-class barber and
hair-dresser. There was a grand 'ball' at night; Mogstad had to play
till the perspiration poured from him; Hansen and I had to figure
as ladies. Pettersen was indefatigable. He faithfully and solemnly
vowed that if he has a pair of boots to his feet when he gets home
he will dance as long as the soles hold together.
"Day after day, as we progressed with a rattling wind, first from
S.E. and later on E.S.E. and E., we felt more anxious to know how far
we had got; but there had always been a snow-storm or a cloudy sky,
so that we could not make any observations. We were all confident that
we must have got a long way up north, but how far beyond the 83d degree
no one could tell. Suddenly Hansen was called on deck this afternoon
by the news that the stars were visible overhead. All were on the
tiptoe of expectation. But when he came down he had only observed
one star, which, however, was so near the meridian that he could
calculate that, at any rate, we were north of 83° 20' north latitude,
and this communication was received with shouts of joy. If we were
not yet in the most northerly latitude ever reached by man, we were,
at all events, not far from it. This was more than we had expected, and
we were in high spirits. Yesterday, being 'the Second Christmas-day,'
of course, both on this account and because it was Juell's birthday, we
had a special dinner, with oxtail soup, pork cutlets, red whortleberry
preserve, cauliflowers, fricandeau, potatoes, preserved currants, also
pastry, and a wonderful iced-almond cake with the words 'Glædelig Jul'
(A Merry Christmas) on it, from Hansen, baker, Christiania, and then
malt extract. We cannot complain that we are faring badly here. About
4 o'clock this morning the vessel received a violent shock which made
everything tremble, but no noise of ice-packing was to be heard. At
about half-past five I heard at intervals the crackling and crunching
of the pack-ice which was surging in the lane ahead. At night similar
noises were also heard; otherwise the ice was quiet, and the crack
on the port-side has closed up tight again.
"Friday, December 28th. I went out in the morning to have a look at the
crack on the port side which has now widened out so as to form an open
lane. Of course, all the dogs followed me, and I had not got far when
I saw a dark form disappear. This was 'Pan,' who rolled down the high
steep edge of the ice and fell into the water. In vain he struggled
to get out again; all around him there was nothing but snow slush,
which afforded no foothold. I could scarcely hear a sound of him,
only just a faint whining noise now and then. I leaned down over
the edge in order to get near him, but it was too high, and I very
nearly went after him head-first; all that I could get hold of was
loose fragments of ice and lumps of snow. I called for a seal-hook,
but before it was brought to me 'Pan' had scrambled out himself, and
was leaping to and fro on the floe with all his might to keep himself
warm, followed by the other dogs, who loudly barked and gambolled
about with him, as though they wished to demonstrate their joy at
his rescue. When he fell in they all rushed forward, looking at me
and whining; they evidently felt sorry for him and wished me to help
him. They said nothing, but just ran up and down along the edge until
he got out. At another moment, perhaps, they may all unite in tearing
him to pieces; such is canine and human nature. 'Pan' was allowed to
dry himself in the saloon all the afternoon.
"A little before half-past nine to-night the vessel received a
tremendous shock. I went out, but no noise of ice-packing could be
heard. However, the wind howled so in the rigging that it was not
easy to distinguish any other sound. At half-past ten another shock
followed; later on, from time to time, vibrations were felt in the
vessel, and towards half-past eleven the shocks became stronger. It
was clear that the ice was packing at some place or other about us,
and I was just on the point of going out when Mogstad came to announce
that there was a very ugly pressure-ridge ahead. We went out with
lanterns. Fifty-six paces from the bow there extended a perpendicular
ridge stretching along the course of the lane, and there was a terrible
pressure going on at the moment. It roared and crunched and crackled
all along; then it abated a little and recurred at intervals, as
though in a regular rhythm; finally it passed over into a continuous
roar. It seemed to be mostly newly frozen ice from the channels which
had formed this ridge; but there were also some ponderous blocks of
ice to be seen among it. It pressed slowly but surely forward towards
the vessel; the ice had given way before it to a considerable distance
and was still being borne down little by little. The floe around us
has cracked, so that the block of ice in which the vessel is embedded
is smaller than it was. I should not like to have that pressure-ridge
come in right under the nose of the Fram, as it might soon do some
damage. Although there is hardly any prospect of its getting so far,
nevertheless I have given orders to the watch to keep a sharp lookout;
and if it comes very near, or if the ice should crack under us, he is
to call me. Probably the pressure will soon abate, as it has now kept
up for several hours. At this moment (12.45 A.M.) there have just
been some violent shocks, and above the howling of the wind in the
rigging I can hear the roar of the ice-pressure as I lie in my berth."