CHAPTER VI

BY SLEDGE AND KAYAK

"Saturday, June 1st. So this is June. What has it in store for

us? Will not this month, either, bring us the land we are longing

for? Must hope and believe so, though the time is drawing out. Luck,

for the matter of that, is a wonderful thing. I expected this morning

as little of the day as was well possible; the weather was thick and

snowy, and we had a strong contrary wind. It was no better when we

came on a lane directly after we started, which appeared to be nearly

impassable; everything was dark and dull. However, the day turned out

to be better than we expected. By means of a detour to the northeast

I found a passage across the lane, and we got on to long, flat plains

which we went over until quite midday. And from five this afternoon we

had another hour and a half of good ice, but that was the end of it;

a lane which ran in several directions cut off every means of advance,

and although I spent more than an hour and a half in looking for a

crossing, none was to be found. There was nothing for it but to camp,

and hope that the morrow would bring an improvement.

Now the morrow has come, but whether the improvement has come likewise,

and the lane has closed more together, I do not yet know. We camped

about nine yesterday evening. As usual latterly, after nearly a whole

day of dismal snow, it suddenly cleared up as soon as we began to pitch

the tent. The wind also went down, and the weather became beautiful,

with blue sky and light white clouds, so that one might almost dream

one's self far away to summer at home. The horizon in the west and

southwest was clear enough, but nothing to be seen except the same

water-sky, which we have been steering for, and, happily, it is

obviously higher, so we are getting under it. If only we had reached

it! Yonder there must be a change; that I have no doubt of. How I

long for that change!

"Curious how different things are. If we only reach land before our

provisions give out we shall think ourselves well out of danger, while

to Payer it stood for certain starvation if he should have to remain

there and not find Tegethoff again. But then he had not been roaming

about in the drift-ice between 83° and 86° for two months and a half

without seeing a living creature. Just as were going to break up camp

yesterday morning we suddenly heard the angry cry of an ivory gull;

there, above us, beautiful and white, were two of them sailing right

over our heads. I thought of shooting them, but it seemed, on the

whole, hardly worth while to expend a cartridge apiece on such birds;

they disappeared again, too, directly. A little while afterwards we

heard them again. As we were lying in the bag to-day and waiting for

breakfast we suddenly heard a hoarse scream over the tent--something

like the croaking of a crow. I should imagine it must have been a gull

(Larus argentatus?).

"Is it not curious? The whole night long, whenever I was awake, did

the sun smile in to us through our silken walls, and it was so warm

and light that I lay and dreamed dreams of summer, far from lanes

and drudgery and endless toil. How fair life seems at such moments,

and how bright the future! But no sooner do I turn out to cook at

half-past nine than the sun veils his countenance and snow begins to

fall. This happens nearly every day now. Is it because he will have

us settle down here and wait, for the summer and the slackening of

the ice and open water will spare us the toil of finding a way over

this hopeless maze of lanes? I am loath, indeed, that this should come

to pass. Even if we could manage, as far as provisions are concerned,

by killing and eating the dogs, and with a chance of game in prospect,

our arrival in Spitzbergen would be late, and we might not improbably

have to pass the winter there, and then those at home would have

another year to wait.

"Sunday, June 2d. So it is on Whitsunday that this book [27]

finishes. I could hardly have imagined that we should still be in

the drift-ice without seeing land; but Fate wills otherwise, and she

knows no mercy.

"The lane which stopped us yesterday did not close, but opened wider

until there was a big sea to the west of us, and we were living on

a floe in the midst of it without a passage across anywhere. So, at

last, what we have so often been threatened with has come to pass:

we must set to work and make our kayaks seaworthy. But first of all

we moved the tent into a sheltered nook of the hummock, where we are

lying to, so that the wind does not reach us, and we can imagine it

is quite still outside, instead of a regular 'mill-breeze' blowing

from the southwest. To rip off the cover of my kayak and get it into

the tent to patch it was the work of a very short time, and then we

spent a comfortable, quiet Whitsunday evening in the tent. The cooker

was soon going, and we had some smoking-hot lobscouse for dinner,

and I hardly think either of us regretted he was not on the move;

it is undeniably good to make a halt sometimes. The cover was soon

patched and ready; then I had to go out and brace up the frame of my

kayak where most of the lashings are slack and must be lashed over

again; this will be no inconsiderable piece of work; there are at

least forty of them. However, only a couple of the ribs are split, so

the framework can easily be made just as good as before. Johansen also

took the cover off his kayak, and to-day it is going to be patched.

"When both the frames are put in order and the covers on we shall

be ready to start afresh and to meet every difficulty, be it lanes,

pools, or open sea. It will, indeed, be with a feeling of security

that we shall set forth, and there will be an end to this continual

anxiety lest we should meet with impassable lanes. I cannot conceive

that anything now can prevent us from soon reaching land. It can hardly

be long now before we meet with lanes and open water in which we can

row. There will be a difficulty with the remaining dogs, however,

and it will be a case of parting with them. The dogs' rations were

portioned out yesterday evening, and we still have part of 'Pan'

for supper; but 'Klapperslangen' must go, too. We shall then have

six dogs, which, I suppose, we can keep four days, and still get on

a good way with them.

"Whitsuntide!--there is something so lovely and summer-like in the

word. It is hard to think how beautiful everything is now at home,

and then to lie here still, in mist and wind and ice. How homesick

one grows; but what good does it do? Little Liv will go to dinner

with her grandmother to-day--perhaps they are dressing her in a new

frock at this very moment! Well, well, the time will come when I can

go with her; but when? I must set to work on the lashings, and it

will be all right."

We worked with ardor during the following days to get our kayaks ready,

and even grudged the time for eating. Twelve hours sometimes went by

between each meal, and our working day often lasted for twenty-four

hours. But all the same it took time to make these kayaks fully

seaworthy again. The worst of it was that we had to be so careful

with our materials, as the opportunities of acquiring more were not

immoderately abundant. When, for instance, a rib had to be relashed

we could not rip up the old lashing, but had to unwind it carefully

in order not to destroy the line; and when there are many scores of

such places to be relashed, this takes time. Then, too, several of the

bamboo ribs which run along the side of the framework (particularly

in Johansen's kayak) were split, and these had wholly or partly

to be taken out and new ones substituted, or to be strengthened by

lashings and side splints. When the covers were properly patched, and

the frames, after several days' work, again in order, the covers were

put on and carefully stretched. All this, of course, had to be done

with care, and was not quick work; but then we had the satisfaction of

knowing that the kayaks were fully seaworthy, and capable, if need be,

of weathering a storm on the way over to Spitzbergen.

Meanwhile the time flew by--our precious time; but then we hoped that

our kayaks would render us important assistance, and that we should

get on all the quicker in them. Thus, on Tuesday, June 4th, I wrote

in my diary: "It seems to me that it cannot be long before we come to

open water or slack ice. The latter is, hereabouts, so thin and broken

up, and the weather so summer-like. Yesterday the thermometer was a

little below freezing-point, and the snow which fell was more like

sleet than anything else; it melted on the tent, and it was difficult

to keep things from getting wet inside; the walls dripped if we even

went near them. We had abominable weather the whole day yesterday,

with falling snow, but for the matter of that we are used to it; we

have had nothing else lately. To-day, however, it is brilliant, clear

blue sky, and the sun has just come over the top of our hummock and

down into the tent. It will be a glorious day to sit out and work in;

not like yesterday, when all one's tackle got wet; it is worst of all

when one is lashing, for then one cannot keep the line taut. This sun

is a welcome friend; I thought I was almost tired of it before when

it was always there; but how glad we are to see it now, and how it

cheers one. I can hardly get it out of my head that it is a glorious,

fresh June morning home by the bay. Only let us soon have water, so

that we can use our kayaks, and it will not be long before we are home.

"To-day, [28] for the first time on the whole of this journey, we

have dealt out rations for breakfast, both of butter, 1 2/3 ounces,

and aleuronate bread, 6 2/3 ounces. We must keep to weights in order

to be certain the provisions will last out, and I shall take stock

properly of what we have left before we go farther.

"Happiness is, indeed, short-lived. The sun has gone again, the sky

is overcast, and snowflakes are beginning to fall.

"Wednesday, June 5th. Still at the same spot, but it is to be hoped

it will not be long before we are able to get off. The weather was

fine yesterday, after all, and so summer-like to sit out and work

and bask in the sun; and then to look out over the water and the ice,

with the glittering waves and snow!

"Yesterday we shot our first game. It was an ivory gull (Larus

eberneus), which went flying over the tent. There were other gulls

here, yesterday, too, and we saw as many as four at once; but they

kept at a distance. I went after them once and missed my mark. One

cartridge wasted; this must not be repeated. If we had taken the

trouble we could easily have got more gulls; but they are too small

game, and it is also too early to use up our ammunition. In the pool

here I saw a seal, and Johansen saw one too. We have both seen and

heard narwhals. There is life enough here, and if the kayaks were in

order, and we could row out on the water, I have no doubt we could

get something. However, it is not necessary yet. We have provisions

enough at present, and it is better to employ the time in getting

on, on account of the dogs, though it would be well if we could get

some big game, and not kill any more of them until our ice journey

is over and we take to the kayaks for good. Yesterday we had to kill

'Klapperslangen.' He gave twenty-five rations, which will last the six

remaining dogs four days. The slaughtering was now entirely Johansen's

business; he had achieved such celerity that with a single thrust of my

long Lapp knife he made an end of the animal, so that it had no time

to utter a sound, and after a few minutes, with the help of the knife

and our little axe, he had divided the animal into suitable doles. As

I mentioned before, we left the skin and hair on; the former was

carefully eaten up, and the only thing left after the dogs' meal was,

as a rule, a tuft of hair here and there on the ice, some claws, and,

perhaps, a well-gnawed cranium, the hard skull being too much for them.

"They are beginning to be pretty well starved now. Yesterday

'Lilleræven' ate up the toe-strap (the reindeer-skin which is placed

under the foot to prevent the snow from balling), and a little of the

wood of Johansen's snowshoes, which the dog had pulled down on to the

ice. The late 'Kvik' ate up her sail-cloth harness, and I am not so

sure these others do not indulge in a fragment of canvas now and then.

"I have just reckoned out our longitude according to an observation

taken with the theodolite yesterday, and make it to be 61° 16.5' E.;

our latitude was 82° 17.8' N. I cannot understand why we do not see

land. The only possible explanation must be that we are farther east

than we think, and that the land stretches southward in that direction;

but we cannot have much farther to go now. Just at this moment a bird

flew over us, which Johansen, who is standing just outside the tent,

took to be a kind of sandpiper.

"Thursday, June 6th. Still on the same spot. I am longing to get off,

see what things look like, and have a final solution of this riddle,

which is constantly before me. It will be a real pleasure to be under

way again with whole tackle, and I cannot help thinking that we shall

soon be able to use our kayaks in open water. Life would be another

thing then! Fancy, to get clear for good of this ice and these lanes,

this toil with the sledges and endless trouble with the dogs, only

one's self in a light craft dancing over the waves at play! It is

almost too much to think of. Perhaps we have still many a hard turn

before we reach it, many a dark hour; but some time it must come,

and then--then life will be life again!

"Yesterday, at last, we finished mending the framework of both

kayaks. We rigged up some plaited bamboo at the bottom of each to place

the provisions on, in order to prevent them from getting wet in case

the kayaks should leak. To-day we have only to go over them again,

test the lashings, and brace (support) those that may require it,

and finally put the covers on. To-morrow evening I hope we shall get

off. This repairing has taken it out of the cord; of our three balls

we have rather less than one left. This I am very anxious to keep,

as we may require it for fishing, and so forth.

"Our various provisions are beginning to dwindle. Weighed the butter

yesterday, and found that we only had 5 pounds 1 ounce. If we reckon

our daily ration at 1 1/3 ounces per man it will last another 23 days,

and by that time we shall have gone a little farther. To-day, for the

first time, I could note down a temperature above freezing-point--i.e.,

+35.6° Fahr. this morning. The snow outside was soft all through,

and the hummocks are dripping. It will not be long now before we

find water on the floes. Last night, too, it absolutely rained. It

was only a short shower; first of all it drizzled, then came large,

heavy drops, and we took shelter inside the tent in order not to get

wet--but it was rain, rain! It was quite a summer feeling to sit in

here and listen to the drops splashing on the tent wall. As regards

the going, this thaw will probably be a good thing if we should have

frost again; but if the snow is to continue as it is now, it will be a

fine mess to get through among all these ridges and hummocks. Instead

of such a contingency, it would be better to have as much rain as

possible, to melt and wash the ice clear of snow. Well, well, it must

do as it likes! It cannot be long now before it takes a turn for the

better--land or open water, whichever it may be.

"Saturday, June 8th. Finished and tried the kayaks yesterday at last,

but only by dint of sticking to our work from the evening of the day

before yesterday to the evening of yesterday. It is remarkable that

we are able to continue working so long at a stretch. If we were at

home we should be very tired and hungry, with so many working hours

between meals; but here it does not seem more than it should be,

although our appetites certainly are first-rate and our sleeping

powers good. It does not seem as if we were growing weak or sickening

for scurvy just yet. As a matter of fact, so far as I know, we are

unusually strong and healthy just now and in full elasticity.

"When we tried the kayaks in a little lane just here we found them

considerably leaky in the seams and also in the canvas, from their

rough usage on the way, but it is to be hoped no more so than will be

remedied when a little soaking makes the canvas swell out. It will not

be agreeable to ferry over lanes and have to put our kayaks dry and

leaky on the water. Our provisions may not improbably be reduced to a

pulp; but we shall have to put up with that, too, like everything else.

"And so we really mean to get off to-day, after a week's stay on

the same spot. Yesterday the southeast wind set in; it has increased

to-day and become rather strong, to judge by the whistling round the

hummocks outside. I lay here this morning fancying I heard the sound of

breakers a little way off. All the lanes about here closed yesterday,

and there was little open water to be seen. It is owing to this wind,

I suppose, and if it is going to close lanes for us, then let it blow

on. The snow is covered with a crust of ice, the going is as good

as possible, and the ice, it is to be hoped, is more or less flat,

so we shall be all right.

"Johansen shot another ivory gull yesterday, and we had it and another

one for dinner. It was our first taste of fresh food, and was, it

cannot be denied, very good; but all the same not so delightful as

one would expect, seeing that we have not had fresh meat for so many

months. It is a proof, no doubt, that the food we have is also good.

"Weighed the bread yesterday; found we had 26 pounds 4 ounces of

wheaten bread and 17 pounds 1 ounce of aleuronate bread; so, for that

matter, we can manage for another thirty-five or forty days, and how

far we shall then have got the gods alone know, but some part of the

way it must be.

"Sunday, June 9th. We got away from our camping-ground at last

yesterday, and we were more than pleased. In spite of the weather,

which was as bad as it could be, with a raging snow-storm from the

east, we were both glad to begin our wanderings again. It took some

time to fix grips under the kayaks, consisting of sack, sleeping-bag,

and blankets, and so load the sledges; but eventually we made a

start. We got well off the floe we had lived on so long, and did not

even have to use the kayaks which we had spent a week in patching for

that purpose. The wind had carefully closed the lanes. We found flat

ice-country, and made good way in spite of the most villanous going,

with newly fallen snow, which stuck to one's snow-shoes mercilessly,

and in which the sledges stood as if fixed to the spot as soon as they

stopped. The weather was such that one could not see many hundred feet

in front of one, and the snow which accumulated on one's clothes on the

weather-side wetted one to the skin; but still it was glorious to see

ourselves making progress--progress towards our stubborn goal. We came

across a number of lanes, and they were difficult to cross, with their

complicated net-work of cracks and ridges in all directions. Some of

them were broad and full of brash, which rendered it impossible to use

the kayaks. In some places, however, the brash was pressed so tightly

together that we could walk on it. But many journeys to and fro are

nearly always necessary before any reasonable opportunity of advance

is to be found. This time is often long to the one who remains behind

with the dogs, being blown through or wetted through meanwhile, as the

case may be. Often, when it seemed as if I were never coming back,

did Johansen think I had fallen through some lane and was gone for

good. As one sits there on the kayak, waiting and waiting, and gazing

in front of one into solitude, many strange thoughts pass through

one's brain. Several times he climbed the highest hummock near at

hand to scan the ice anxiously; and then, when at last he discovered

a little black speck moving about on the white flat surface far,

far away, his mind would be relieved. As Johansen was waiting in

this way yesterday, he remarked that the sides of the floe in front

of him were slowly moving up and down, [29] as they might if rocked

by a slight swell. Can open water be near? Can it be that the great

breakers from the sea have penetrated in here? How willingly would we

believe it! But perhaps it was only the wind which set the thin ice

we are now travelling over in wave-like motion. Or have we really

open water to the southeast? It is remarkable that this wind welds

the ice together, while the southwest wind here a little while ago

slackened it. When all is said, is it possible that we are not far

from the sea? I cannot help thinking of the water-reflections we have

seen on the sky before us. Johansen has just left the tent, and says

that he can see the same reflection in the south; it is higher now,

and the weather tolerably clear. What can it be? Only let us go on

and get there.

"We came across the track of a bear again yesterday. How old it

was could not easily be determined in this snow, which obliterates

everything in a few minutes; but it was probably from yesterday, for

'Haren' directly afterwards got scent of something and started off

against the wind, so that Johansen thought the bear must be somewhere

near. Well, well, old or new, a bear was there while we were a little

farther north, stitching at the kayaks, and one day it will come our

way, too, no doubt! The gull which Johansen shot brought up a large

piece of blubber when it fell, and this tends to confirm us in the

belief that bears are at hand, as it hardly could have done so had

it not been in such company.

"The weather was wet and wretched, and, to make things worse,

there was a thick mist, and the going was as heavy as could be. To

go on did not seem very attractive; but, on the other hand, a halt

for dinner in this slush was still less so. We therefore continued a

little while longer and stopped at 10 o'clock for good. What a welcome

change it was to be under the tent again! And the 'fiskegratin' was

delicious. It gives one such a sense of satisfaction to feel that,

in spite of everything, one is making a little way. The temperature

is beginning to be bad now; the snow is quite wet, and some water

has entered my kayak, which I suppose melted on the deck and ran

down through the open side where the lacing is, which we have not

yet sewn fast. We are waiting for good weather in order to get the

covers thoroughly dry first, and then stretch them well.

"Monday, June 10th. In spite of the most impenetrable mist and the most

detestable going on soppy snow, which has not yet been sufficiently

exposed to frost to become granular, and where the sledges rode their

very heaviest, we still managed to make good, even progress the whole

day yesterday. There were innumerable lanes, of course, to deal with,

and many crossings on loose pieces of ice, which we accomplished at a

pinch. But the ice is flat here everywhere, and every little counts. It

is the same thin winter-ice of about three feet in thickness. I only

saw a couple of old floes yesterday--they were in the neighborhood

of our camping-ground, which was also on an old floe; otherwise the

ice is new, and in places very new. We went over some large expanses

yesterday of ice one foot or less in thickness. The last of these

tracts in particular was very remarkable, and must at one time have

been an immense pool; the ice on it was so thin that it cannot be

long before it melts altogether. There was water on all this ice,

and it was like walking through gruel. As a matter of fact, the ice

about here is nothing else but pure broken-up sea-ice, consisting

of large and small floes, not infrequently very small floes closely

aggregated; but when they have the chance of slackening they will

spread over the whole sea hereabouts, and we shall have water enough

to row in any direction we please.

"The weather seems to-day to be of the same kind as yesterday, with

a southwest wind, which is tearing and rattling at the tent walls. A

thaw and wet snow. I do not know if we shall get any more frost, but

it would make the snow in splendid condition for our snow-shoes. I am

afraid, however, that the contrary will rather be the case, and that

we shall soon be in for the worst break-up of the winter. The lanes

otherwise are beginning to improve; they are no longer so full of

brash and slush; it is melting away, and bridges and such-like have

a better chance of forming in the clearer water.

"We scan the horizon unremittingly for land every time there is a

clear interval; but nothing, never anything, to be seen. Meanwhile we

constantly see signs of the proximity of land or open water. The gulls

increase conspicuously in number, and yesterday we saw a little auk

(Mergulus alle) in a lane. The atmosphere in the south and southwest

is always apt to be dark, but the weather has been such that we can

really see nothing. Yet I feel that the solution is approaching. But,

then, how long have I not thought so? There is nothing for it but

the noble virtue of patience.

"What beautiful ice this would have been to travel over in April before

all these lanes were formed--endless flat plains! For the lanes,

as far as we know, are all newly formed ones, with some ridges here

and there, which are also new.

"Tuesday, June 11th. A monotonous life this on the whole, as monotonous

as one can well imagine it--to turn out day after day, week after week,

month after month, to the same toil, over ice which is sometimes a

little better, sometimes a little worse (it now seems to be steadily

getting worse), always hoping to see an end to it, but always hoping

in vain--ever the same monotonous range of vision over ice, and again

ice. No sign of land in any direction and no open water, and now we

should be in the same latitude as Cape Fligely, or at most a couple

of minutes farther north. We do not know where we are, and we do not

know when this will end. Meanwhile our provisions are dwindling day

by day, and the number of our dogs is growing seriously less. Shall

we reach land while we yet have food, or shall we, when all is said,

ever reach it? It will soon be impossible to make any way against

this ice and snow. The latter is only slush; the dogs sink through at

every step, and we ourselves splash through it up above our knees when

we have to help the dogs or take a turn at the heavy sledges, which

happens frequently. It is hard to go on hoping in such circumstances,

but still we do so; though sometimes, perhaps, our hearts fail us when

we see the ice lying before us like an impenetrable maze of ridges,

lanes, brash, and huge blocks thrown together pell-mell, and one might

imagine one's self looking at suddenly congealed breakers. There are

moments when it seems impossible that any creature not possessed

of wings can get farther, and one longingly follows the flight of

a passing gull, and thinks how far away one would soon be could one

borrow its wings. But then, in spite of everything, one finds a way,

and hope springs eternal. Let the sun peep out a moment from the bank

of clouds, and the ice-plains glitter in all their whiteness; let the

sunbeams play on the water, and life seems beautiful in spite of all,

and worthy a struggle.

"It is wonderful how little it takes to give one fresh

courage. Yesterday I found dead in a lane a little polar cod (Gadus

polaris), and my eyes, I am sure, must have shone with pleasure when I

saw it. It was real treasure-trove. Where there is fish in the water

one can hardly starve, and before I crept into the tent this morning

I set a line in the lane beside us. But what a number of these little

fish it would require to feed one; many more in one day than one could

catch in a week, or perhaps in a month! Yet one is hopeful, and lies

counting the chances of there being larger fish in the water here,

and of being able to fish to one's heart's content.

"Advance yesterday was more difficult than on the previous days,

the ice more uneven and massive, and in some places with occasional

old floes in between. We were stopped by many bad lanes, too, so did

not make much way--I am afraid not more than three or four miles. I

think we may now reckon on being in latitude 82° 8' or 9' N. if this

continual southeast wind has not sent us northward again. The going

is getting worse and worse. The snow is water-soaked to the bottom,

and will not bear the dogs any longer, though it has become a little

more granular lately, and the sledges run well on it when they do

not cut through, which happens continually, and then they are almost

immovable. It is heavy for the dogs, and would be so even if they were

not so wretchedly worn out as they are; they stop at the slightest

thing, and have to be helped or driven forward with the whip. Poor

animals, they have a bad time of it! 'Lilleræven,' the last of my

original team, will soon be unable to go farther--and such a good

animal to haul! We have 5 dogs left ('Lilleræven,' 'Storræven,' and

'Kaifas' to my sledge, 'Suggen' and 'Haren' to Johansen's). We still

have enough food for them for three days, from 'Isbjön,' who was

killed yesterday morning; and before that time Johansen thinks the

riddle will be solved. Vain hope, I am afraid, although the water-sky

in the southeast or south-southeast (magnetic) seems always to keep

in the same position and has risen much higher.

"We began our march at half-past six yesterday afternoon, and

stopped before a lane at a quarter-past three this morning. I saw

fresh-water pools on the ice under some hummocks yesterday for the

first time. Where we stopped, however, there were none to be found,

so we had to melt water again this morning; but it will not often

be necessary hereafter, I hope, and we can save our oil, which,

by-the-way, is becoming alarmingly reduced. Outside, the weather and

snow are the same; no pleasure in turning out to the toils of the

day. I lie here thinking of our June at home--how the sun is shining

over forest and fjord and wooded hills, and there is--But some time

we shall get back to life, and then it will be fairer than it has

ever been before.

"Wednesday, June 12th. This is getting worse and worse. Yesterday we

did nothing, hardly advanced more than a mile. Wretched snow, uneven

ice, lanes, and villanous weather stopped us. There was certainly a

crust on the snow, on which the sledges ran well when they were on it;

but when they broke through--and they did it constantly--they stood

immovable. This crust, too, was bad for the dogs, poor things! They

sank through it into the deep snow between the irregularities, and

it was like swimming through slush for them. But all the same we made

way. Lanes stopped us, it is true, but we cleared them somehow. Over

one of them, the last, which looked nasty, we got by making a bridge

of small floes, which we guided to the narrowest place. But then a

shameless storm of wet snow, or, more correctly, sleet, with immense

flakes, set in, and the wind increased. We could not see our way in

this labyrinth of lanes and hummocks, and were as soaked as ducked

crows, as we say. The going was impossible, and the sledges as good as

immovable in the wet snow, which was soon deep enough to cling to our

'ski' underneath in great lumps, and prevent them from running. There

was hardly any choice but to find a camping-ground as soon as possible,

for to force one's way along in such weather and on such snow, and

make no progress, was of little use. We found a good camping-ground

and pitched our tent after only four hours' march, and went without

our dinner to make up.

"Here we are, then, hardly knowing what to do next. What the going

is like outside I do not know yet, but probably not much better than

yesterday, and whether we ought to push on the little we can, or go out

and try to capture a seal, I cannot decide. The worst of it is that

there do not seem to be many seals in the ice where we now are. We

have seen none the last few days. Perhaps it is too thick and compact

for them (?). The ice here is strikingly different in character from

that we have been travelling over of late. It is considerably more

uneven, for one thing, with mounds and somewhat old ridges--among

them some very large ones. Nor does it look so very old--in general,

I should say, of last winter's formation, though there are occasional

old floes in between. They appear to have been near land, as clay and

earthy matter are frequently to be seen, particularly in the newly

formed ridges.

"Johansen, who has gone out, says the same water-sky is to be seen

in the south. Why is it we cannot reach it? But there it is, all the

same, an alluring goal for us to make for, even if we do not reach it

very soon. We see it again and again, looking so blue and beautiful;

for us it is the color of hope.

"Friday, June 14th. It is three months to-day since we left the

Fram. A quarter of a year have we been wandering in this desert of

ice, and here we are still. When we shall see the end of it I can no

longer form any idea; I only hope whatever may be in store for us

is not very far off, open water or land--Wilczek Land, Zichy Land,

Spitzbergen, or some other country.

"Yesterday was not quite so bad a day as I expected. We really did

advance, though not very far--hardly more than a couple of miles--but

we must be content with that at this time of year. The dogs could not

manage to draw the sledges alone; if there was nobody beside them they

stopped at every other step. The only thing to be done was to make

a journey to and fro, and thus go over the ground three times. While

I went on ahead to explore, Johansen drove the sledges as far as he

could; first mine, and then back again after his own. By that time I

had returned and drove my own sledge as far as I had found a way; and

then this performance was repeated all over again. It was not rapid

progress, but progress it was of a kind, and that was something. The

ice we are going over is anything but even; it is still rather massive

and old, with hummocks and irregularities in every direction, and no

real flat tracts. When, added to this, after going a short distance,

we came to a place where the ice was broken up into small floes,

with high ridges and broad lanes filled with slush and brash, so

that the whole thing looked like a single mass of débris, where there

was hardly standing-room, to say nothing of any prospect of advance,

it was only human to lose courage and give up, for the time being,

trying to get on. Wherever I turned the way was closed, and it looked

as if advance was denied us for good. To launch the kayaks would be

of no avail, for we could hardly expect to propel them through this

accumulation of fragments, and I was on the point of making up my

mind to wait and try our luck with the net and line, and see if we

could not manage to find a seal somewhere in these lanes.

"These are moments full of anxiety, when from some hummock one looks

doubtingly over the ice, one's thoughts continually reverting to the

same question: have we provisions enough to wait for the time when

the snow will have melted and the ice have become slacker and more

intersected with lanes, so that one can row between the floes? Or is

there any probability of our being able to obtain sufficient food,

if that which we have should fall short? These are great and important

questions which I cannot yet answer for certain. That it will take a

long time before all this snow melts away and advance becomes fairly

practicable is certain; at what time the ice may become slacker,

and progress by means of the lanes possible, we cannot say; and up

to this we have taken nothing, with the exception of two ivory gulls

and a small fish. We did, indeed, see another fish swimming near the

surface of the water, but it was no larger than the other. Where we are

just now there seems to be little prospect of capturing anything. I

have not seen a single seal the last few days; though yesterday I

saw the snowed-down track of a bear. Meanwhile we see ivory gulls

continually; but they are still too small to be worth a cartridge;

yesterday, however, I saw a large gull, probably Larus argentatus.

"I determined to make one more attempt to get on by striking farther

east and this time I was successful in finding a passage across by

way of a number of small floes. On the other side there was rather

old compact ice, partially of formation a summer old, which seemed

to have been near land, as it was irregular, and much intermixed

with earthy matter. We have travelled over this ice-field ever since

without coming on lanes; but it was uneven, and we came to grief

several times. In other places again it was pretty good.

"We began our march at 8 o'clock on Wednesday afternoon, and halted

here at 5 o'clock this morning. [30] Later on in the forenoon the

wind went over to the northeast and the temperature fell. The snow

froze hard, and eventually the going became pretty good. The crust

on the snow bore the dogs up, and also the sledges to a certain

extent, and we looked forward to good going on the following day;

but in this we were doomed to disappointment. No sooner had we got

inside the tent than it began to snow, and kept briskly at it the

whole day while we slept; and yesterday evening, when we turned

out to get breakfast ready and start off, it was still snowing, and

deep, loose snow covered everything--a state of things bad beyond

description. There was no sense in going on, and we decided to wait

and see how matters would turn out. Meanwhile we were hungry, but a

full breakfast we could not afford, so I prepared a small portion of

fish soup, and we returned to the bag again--Johansen to sleep on,

I to rereckon all my observations from the time we left the Fram, and

see if some error might not explain the mystery why no land was yet

to be found. The sun had partially appeared, and I tried, though in

vain, to take an observation. I stood waiting for more than an hour

with the theodolite up, but the sun went in again and remained out

of sight. I have calculated and calculated and thought and thought,

but can find no mistake of any importance, and the whole thing is a

riddle to me. I am beginning seriously to doubt that we may be too far

west, after all. I simply cannot conceive that we are too far east;

for in such a case we cannot, at any rate, be more than 5° farther

east than our observations [31] make us. Supposing, for instance,

that our watches have gone too fast, 'Johannsen' [32] cannot, at

all events, have gained more than double its previous escapement. I

have assumed an escapement of five seconds; but supposing that the

escapement has been ten seconds, this does not make more difference

than 6' 40'' in eighty days (the time from our departure from the

Fram till the last observation)--that is, 1° 40' farther east than we

ought to be. Assuming, too, that I have calculated our days' marches

at too great length, in the days between April 8th and 13th, and that

instead of 36 English geographical miles, or, rather, more than 40

statute miles, we have only gone 24 English geographical miles, or

28 statute miles (less we cannot possibly have gone), we should then

have been in 89° E. instead of 86° E, on the 13th, as we supposed. That

is 3° farther east, or with the figures above, let us say together 5°

farther east--i.e., we now instead of being in longitude 61° E. should

be in 66° E., [33] or about 70 miles from Cape Fligely. But it seems

to me we ought to see land south of us just the same. Wilczek Land

cannot be so low and trend suddenly so far to the south, when Cape

Budapest is said to lie in about 61° E. and 82° N., and should thus

be not so much as 50 miles from us. No, this is inconceivable. On the

other hand, it is not any easier to suppose ourselves west of it; we

must have drifted very materially between April 8th and 13th, or my

watch must have stopped for a time before April 2d. The observations

from April 2d, 4th, and 8th seem, indeed, to indicate that we drifted

considerably westward. On the 2d we appeared to be in 103° 6' E., on

the 4th in 99° 59' E., and April 8th in 95° 7' E. Between these dates

there were no marches of importance; between the observations on the

2d and the 4th there was only a short half-day's march; and between

the 4th and the 7th a couple, which amounted to nothing, and could

only have carried us a little westward. This is as much as to say that

we must have drifted 8°, or let us reckon at any rate 7°, westward in

the six days and nights. Assuming that the drift was the same during

the five days and nights between the 8th and 13th, we then get 7°

farther west than we suppose. We should consequently now be in 54°

E., instead of in 61° E., and not more than 36 to 40 miles from Cape

Fligely, and close by Oscar's Land. We ought to see something of them,

I think. Let us assume meanwhile that the drift westward was strong

in the period before April 2d also, and grant the possibility that

my watch did stop at that time (which, I fear, is not excluded),

and we may then be any distance west for all we can tell. It is

this possibility which I begin to think of more and more. Meanwhile,

apparently there is nothing for it but to continue as we have done

already--perhaps a little more south--and a solution must come.

"When, after having concluded my calculations, I had taken a nap and

again turned out at midday to-day, the condition of the snow proved

to be no better; in fact, rather worse. The new snow was wet and

sticky and the going as heavy as it well could be. However, it was

necessary to make an attempt to get on; there was nothing gained by

waiting there, and progress is progress be it ever so little.

"I took a single altitude about midday, but it was not sharp.

"Saturday, June 15th. The middle of June, and still no prospect of an

end to this; things only became worse instead. So bad as yesterday,

though, it had never been, and worse, happily, it can hardly be. The

sledges ran terribly heavy in the loose, wet, newly fallen snow,

which was deep to boot; and sometimes when they stopped--and that was

continually--they stuck as if glued to the spot. It was all we could

do to move them when we pushed with all our might. Then to this was

added the fact that one's snow-shoes ran equally badly, and masses

of snow collected underneath them the minute one stopped; one's feet

kept twisting continually from this, and ice formed under them, so

that one suddenly slid off the snow-shoes and into the snow, till far

above one's knees, when one tried to pull or help the sledges; but

there was nothing for it but to scramble up and on to them again. To

wade along in such snow without them is an impossibility, and, as I

have said before, though fastening them on securely would have been a

better plan, yet it would have been too troublesome, seeing that we

had to take them off continually to get the sledges over ridges and

lanes. In addition to all this, wherever one turns, the ice is uneven

and full of mounds and old ridges, and it is only by wriggling along

like an eel, so to speak, that one can get on at all. There are lanes,

too, and they compel one to make long detours or go long distances

over thin, small floes, ridges, and other abominations. We struggled

along, however, a little way, working on our old plan of two turns,

but a quick method it could not be called. The dogs are becoming

more and more worn out. 'Lilleræven,' the last survivor of my team,

can now hardly walk--hauling there is no question of: he staggers

like a drunken man, and when he falls can hardly rise to his feet

again. To-day he is going to be killed, I am thankful to say, and one

will be spared seeing him. 'Storræven,' too, is getting very slack

in the traces; the only one of mine which pulls at all is 'Kaifas,'

and that is only as long as one of us is helping behind. To keep on

longer in such circumstances is only wearing out men and dogs to no

purpose, and is also using up more provender than is necessary. We

therefore renounced dinner, and halted at about ten yesterday evening,

after having begun the march at half-past four in the afternoon. I

had, however, stopped to take an observation on the way. It is not

easy to get hold of the sun nowadays, and one must make the most

of him when he is to be seen through the driving clouds; clear he

will never be. Yesterday afternoon, after an unconscionable wait,

and after having put up the instrument in vain a couple of times,

I finally got a wretched single altitude.

"Yesterday evening I reckoned out these observations and find that,

contrary to our expectations, we have drifted strongly westward,

having come from 61° 16' E., which was our longitude on June 4th,

right to about 57° 40' E. But then we have also drifted a good way

north again, up to 82° 26' N., after being down in 82° 17.8' on the

same date, and we have been pushing southward as hard as we could

the whole time. However, we are glad to see that there is so much

movement in the ice, for then there is hope of our drifting out

eventually towards open water; for that we can get there by our own

efforts alone over this shocking ice I am beginning to doubt. This

country and this going are too bad, and my hope now is in lanes and

slack ice. Happily, a northeast wind has sprung up. Yesterday there was

a fresh breeze from the north-northwest (magnetic), and the same again

to-day. Only let it blow on; if it has set us northwest it can also

set us southwest, and eventually out towards our goal--towards Franz

Josef Land or Spitzbergen. I doubt more than ever our being east of

Cape Fligely after this observation, and I begin to believe more and

more in the possibility that the first land we shall see--if we see

any, and I hope we may--will be Spitzbergen. In that case we should

not even get a glimpse of Franz Josef Land, the land of which I have

dreamed golden dreams day and night. But still, if it is not to be,

then well and good. Spitzbergen is good enough, and if we are as far

west as we seem to be, I have greater hope than before of finding

slacker ice and open water; and then for Spitzbergen! But there is

still a serious question to be faced, and that is to procure ourselves

enough food for the journey.

"I have slept here some time on purpose, after having spent a good

while on my calculations and speculations as to our drift and our

future. We have nothing to hurry for in this state of the snow; it

is hardly better to-day than it was yesterday, and then, on account

of the mild temperature, it is better to travel by night than by

day. The best thing to do is to spin out the time as long as possible

without consuming more than absolutely necessary of the provisions;

the summer cannot but improve matters, and we have still three months

of it before us. The question is, can we procure ourselves food during

that time? It would be strange, I think, if we could not. There are

birds about continually; I saw another large gull yesterday, probably

the herring or silver gull (Larus argentatus); but to support life for

any length of time on such small fry we have not cartridges enough. On

seal or bear all my hopes are fixed; just one before our provisions

give out, and the evil hour is warded off for a long time to come.

"Sunday, June 16th. Yesterday was as bad as it well could be--the

surface enough to make one desperate and the ice rough. I very much

doubted whether the wisest thing would not be to kill the dogs and keep

them as food for ourselves, and try to make our way on as best we could

without them. In that manner we should have provender for fifteen or

perhaps twenty days longer, and should be able to make some progress

at the same time. There does not seem much to be done in that line,

however, and perhaps the right thing to do is to wait. But, on the

other hand, perhaps, it is not far to land or open water, or, at any

rate, to slack ice, and then every mile we can make southward is of

importance. I have therefore come to the conclusion that we must use

the dogs to get on with as best we can--perhaps there will be a change

before we expect it; if nothing else, then, perhaps, some better ice,

like that we had before. Meanwhile we were obliged to kill two dogs

yesterday. 'Lilleræven' could hardly go when we started; his legs

seemed to be quite paralyzed, and he fell down and could not get up

again. After I had dragged him and the sledge for a time and had tried

in vain to make him go, I had to put him on the load, and when we came

to some hummocks where there was shelter from the north wind, Johansen

killed him, while I went forward to find a way. Meanwhile my other dog,

'Storræven,' was in almost as bad a plight. Haul he could not, and

the difficulty was to make him go on so that he was not dragged with

the sledge. He went a little way, stumbling and falling, and being

helped up repeatedly; but soon he was just as bad as 'Lilleræven'

had been, lagged behind, got the traces under the sledge runners,

and was dragged with it. As I thought I had enough to do in hauling

the sledge, I let him go, in the hope that he would, at any rate,

follow us. He did so for a little while, but then stopped behind,

and Johansen was compelled to fetch him and put him on his load,

and when we camped he was killed too.

"'Kaifas' is the only dog I have left to help me haul my sledge,

and Johansen has 'Haren' and 'Suggen.' We have rations for them

for ten days from the two slaughtered dogs, but how far we shall

be able to get with them the gods alone know. Not very far, I am

afraid. Meanwhile our hitherto somewhat primitive method of hauling

had to be improved on. With two dog-harnesses we accordingly made

ourselves proper hauling-gear, [34] and therewith all idea of using

snow-shoes not securely fastened on had to be abandoned. One's feet

twisted and slipped and slid off the snow-shoes and deep down into

the bottomless snow, which, in addition, turned to ice under our feet,

and with our smooth komager soles was as slippery as eelskin to stand

on. Then we fastened them on, and where the ice was even it really was

possible to drag the sledge, even with only one dog beside one. I saw

that, given passable snow and passable country to work on, we could

make some progress during the day, though as soon as there was the

slightest irregularity in the ice the sledges stood perfectly still. It

was necessary to strain at the harness all one knew, and then perhaps

fail to make the sledge budge an inch. Then back one had to go to it,

and after exerting one's strength to the utmost it would finally glide

over the obstacle and on towards a new one, where exactly the same

process had to be gone through. If it was wished to turn the sledge in

the deep snow where it stood embedded, matters were no better; it was

only by lifting it bodily that one could get it on at all. So we went

on step by step until perhaps we came on a small extent of level ice

where we could increase the pace. If, however, we came on lanes and

ridges, things were worse than ever; one man cannot manage a sledge

alone, but two must be put to each sledge. Then when we have followed

up the track I have marked out beforehand I have to start off again

and find a way between the hummocks. To go direct, hauling the sledge,

is not advisable where the ice is uneven, as it only means getting

into difficulties and being constrained eventually to turn back. In

this way we are grinding along, but it goes without saying that speed

and long marches are not the order of the day. But still, as it is we

make a little way, and that is better than nothing; it is, besides,

the only thing we can do, seeing that it is impossible to crawl into

a lair and hibernate for a month or so till progress is possible again.

"To judge by the sky, there must be a number of lanes in the south

and southwest. Perhaps our trying mode of advance is leading us

to something better. We began at about ten yesterday evening,

and stopped at six this morning. We have not had dinner the last

few days, in order to save a meal, as we do not think this ice and

our progress generally are worth much food. With the same object,

we this morning collected the blood of 'Storræven' and converted it

into a sort of porridge instead of the 'fiskegratin.' It was good,

even if it was only dog's blood, and at any rate we have a portion

of fish flour to the good. Before we turned into the bag last night

we inspected our cartridges, and found, to our joy, that we had

148 shot-gun cartridges, 181 rifle cartridges, and in addition 14

spherical-shot cartridges. With so much ammunition, we should be able

to increase our provisions for some time to come, if necessary; for

if nothing else should fall to our guns there would always be birds,

and 148 birds will go a long way. If we use half-charges we can eke

out our ammunition still further. We have, moreover, half a pound

of gunpowder and some spherical shot for the rifles, also caps for

reloading the cartridges. This discovery has put me in good spirits,

for, truth to tell, I did not think our prospects were inordinately

bright. We shall now, perhaps, be able to manage for three months,

and within that time something must happen. In addition to what we can

shoot, we can also catch gulls with a hook, and if the worst should

come to the worst, and we set seriously to work, we can probably take

some animalcula and the like with the net. It may happen that we shall

not get to Spitzbergen in time to find a vessel, and must winter there,

but it will be a life of luxury compared with this in the drift-ice,

not knowing where we are nor whither drifting, and not seeing our

goal, be it never so far away. I should not like to have this time

over again. We have paid dearly for letting our watches run down that

time. If there was no one waiting at home, a winter in Spitzbergen

would be quite enticing. I lie here and dream of how comfortably and

well we could manage there. Everything outside of this ice seems rosy,

and out of it we shall be some time or other. We must comfort ourselves

with the adage that night is darkest before the dawn. Of course it

somewhat depends on how dark the night is to be, and considerably

darker than it is now it might very well be. But our hopes are fixed

on the summer. Yes, it must be better as summer gradually comes on."

So on we went forward; and day after day we were going through exactly

the same toil, in the same heavy snow, in which the sledges stuck fast

ceaselessly. Dogs and men did their best, but with little effect, and

in addition we began to be uneasy as to our means of subsistence. The

dogs' rations were reduced to a minimum, to enable us to keep life

going as long as possible. We were hungry and toil-worn from morning

to night and from night to morning, all five of us. We determined

to shoot whatever came in our way, even gulls and fulmars; but now,

of course, none of this game ever came within range.

The lanes grew worse and worse, filled generally with slush and

brash. We were often compelled to go long distances over nothing

but small pieces, where one went through continually. On June 18th

"a strong wind from the west (magnetic) sprang up, which tears and

rattles at the tent. We are going back, I suppose, whence we came,

only farther north perhaps. So we are buffeted by wind and current,

and so it will go on, perhaps, the whole summer through, without our

being able to master it." A meridian altitude that day made us in 82°

19' N., so we had come down again a little. I saw and shot a couple

of fulmars and a Brünnich's guillemot (Uria brünnichii), and these

eked out our rations; but, to our distress, I fired at a couple of

seals in the lanes and missed my mark. How we wished we could get

hold of such a prize! "Meanwhile there is a good deal of life here

now," I write on June 20th. "Little auks fly backward and forward in

numbers, and they sit and chatter and show themselves just outside

the tent door; it is quite a pleasure to see them, but a pity they

are so small that they are not worth a shot. We have not seen them in

flocks yet, but in couples, as a rule. It is remarkable how bird-life

has increased since the west wind set in the day before yesterday. It

is particularly striking how the little auks have suddenly appeared

in myriads; they whiz past the tent here with their cheery twitter,

and it gives one the feeling of having come down to more hospitable

regions. This sudden finding of Brünnich's guillemots seems also

curious, but it does no good. Land is not to be descried, and the

snow is in as wretched a condition as it can be. A proper thaw, so

that the snow can disappear more quickly, does not come. Yesterday

morning before breakfast I went for a walk southward to see what were

our chances of advance. The ice was flat and good for a little way,

but lanes soon began which were worse than ever. Our only expedient

now is to resort to strong measures and launch the kayaks, in spite of

the fact that they leak; we must then travel as much as possible by way

of the lanes, and with this resolution I turn back. The snow is still

the same, very wet, so that one sank deep in between the hummocks,

and there are plenty of them. We could not afford a proper breakfast,

so we took 1 2/3 ounces bread and 1 2/3 ounces pemmican per man,

and then set to work to mend the pumps and put the kayaks in order

for ferrying, so that their contents should not be spoiled by water

leaking in. Among other things, a hole had to be patched in mine,

which I had not seen before.

"We had a frugal supper--2 ounces aleuronate bread and 1 ounce butter

per man--and crept into the bag to sleep as long as possible and kill

the time without eating. The only thing to be done is to try and hold

out till the snow has melted and advance is more practicable. At one

in the afternoon we turned out to a rather more abundant breakfast of

'fiskegratin,' but we do not dare to eat as much as we require any

longer. We are looking forward to trying our new tactics, and instead

of attempting to conquer nature, obeying her and taking advantage of

the lanes. We must get some way, at any rate, by this means; and the

farther south the more prospect of lanes and the greater chance of

something falling to our guns.

"Otherwise it is a dull existence enough, no prospect for the moment

of being able to get on, impassable packed ice in every direction,

rapidly diminishing provisions, and now, too, nothing to be caught

or shot. An attempt I made at fishing with the net failed entirely--a

pteropod (Clio borealis) and a few crustacea were the whole result. I

lie awake at night by the hour racking my brain to find a way out of

our difficulties. Well, well, there will be one eventually!

"Saturday, June 22d. Half-past 9 A.M.; after a good breakfast of

seal's-flesh, seal-liver, blubber, and soup, here I lie dreaming dreams

of brightness; life is all sunshine again. What a little incident

is necessary to change the whole aspect of affairs! Yesterday and

the last few days were dull and gloomy; everything seemed hopeless,

the ice impassable, no game to be found; and then comes the incident

of a seal rising near our kayaks and rolling about round us. Johansen

has time to give it a ball just as it is disappearing, and it floats

while I harpoon it--the first and only bearded seal (Phoca barbata)

we have seen yet--and we have abundance of food and fuel for upward

of a month. We need hurry no longer; we can settle down, adapt the

kayaks and sledges better for ferrying over the lanes, capture seals

if possible, and await a change in the state of the ice. We have eaten

our fill both at supper and breakfast, after being ravenous for many

days. The future seems bright and certain now; no clouds of darkness

to be seen any longer.

"It was hardly with great expectations that we started off on

Tuesday evening. A hard crust which had formed on the top of the soft

snow did not improve matters; the sledges often cut through this,

and were not to be moved before one lifted them forward again, and

when it was a case of turning amid the uneven ice they stuck fast

in the crust. The ice was uneven and bad, and the snow loose and

water-soaked, so that, even with snow-shoes on, we sank deep into

it ourselves. There were lanes besides, and though tolerably easy to

cross, as they were often packed together, they necessitated a winding

route. We saw clearly that to continue in this way was impossible. The

only resource was to disburden ourselves of everything which could in

any way be dispensed with, and start afresh as quickly as we could,

with only provisions, kayaks, guns, and the most necessary clothing,

in order, at any rate, to reach land before our last crumb of food

was eaten up. We went over the things to see what we could part with;

the medicine-bag, the spare horizontal bars belonging to the sledges,

reserve snow-shoes and thick, rough socks, soiled shirts, and the

tent. When it came to the sleeping-bag we drew a long sigh, but, wet

and heavy as it always is now, that had to go too. We had, moreover,

to contrive wooden grips under the kayaks, so that we can without

further trouble set the whole thing afloat when we have to cross a

lane and be able to drag the sledges up on the other side and go on

at once. If it should then, as now, be impossible for us to launch

the sledges, because sleeping-bag, clothes, and sacks of provender,

etc., are lying on them as a soft dunnage for the kayaks, it will

take too much time. At every lane we should be obliged to unlash the

loads, lift the kayaks off the sledges and into the water, lash them

together there, then place the sledges across them, and finally go

through the same manoeuvres in inverse order on the other side. We

should not get very far in the day in that manner.

"Firmly determined to make these alterations, the very next day we

started off. We soon came to a long pool, which it was necessary

to ferry over. The kayaks were soon launched and lying side by side

on the water, well stiffened, with the snow-shoes under the straps,

[35] a thoroughly steady fleet. Then the sledges, with their loads,

were run out to them, one forward, one astern. We had been concerned

about the dogs and how we should get them to go with us, but they

followed the sledges out on to the kayaks and lay down as if they

had done nothing else all their lives. 'Kaifas' seated himself in

the bow of my kayak, and the two others astern.

"A seal had come up near us while we were occupied with all this,

but I thought to wait before shooting it till the kayaks were ready,

and thus be certain of getting it before it sank. Of course it did not

show itself again. These seals seem to be enchanted, and as if they

were only sent to delay us. Twice that day before I had seen them

and watched for them to appear again in vain. I had even achieved

missing one--the third time I have missed my mark. It looks bad for

the ammunition if I am going on like this, but I have discovered that

I aimed too high for these short ranges, and had shot over them. So

then we set off across the blue waves on our first long voyage. A

highly remarkable convoy we must have been, laden as we were with

sledges, sacks, guns, and dogs; a tribe of gypsies, Johansen said

it was. If any one had suddenly come upon us then, he would hardly

have known what to make of the troupe, and certainly would not have

taken us for polar explorers. Paddling between the sledges and the

snow-shoes, which projected far out on either side, was not easy work;

but we managed to get along, and were soon of the opinion that we

should think ourselves lucky could we go on like this the whole day,

instead of hauling and wading through the snow. Our kayaks could hardly

have been called water-tight, and we had recourse to the pumps several

times; but we could easily have reconciled ourselves to that, and only

wished we had more open water to travel over. At last we reached the

end of the pool; I jumped ashore on the edge of the ice, to pull up

the kayaks, and suddenly heard a great splash beside us. It was a seal

which had been lying there. Soon afterwards I heard a similar splash

on the other side, and then for the third time a huge head appeared,

blowing and swimming backward and forward, but, alas! only to dive

deep under the edge of the ice before we had time to get the guns

out. It was a fine, large blue or bearded seal (Phoca barbata).

"We were quite sure that it had disappeared for good, but no sooner

had I got one of the sledges half-way up the side than the immense

head came up again close beside the kayaks, blowing and repeating the

same manoeuvres as before. I looked round for my gun, but could not

reach it where it was lying on the kayak. 'Take the gun, Johansen,

quick, and blaze away; but quick! look sharp, quick!' In a moment he

had thrown the gun to his cheek, and just as the seal was on the point

of disappearing under the edge I heard the report. The animal made a

little turn, and then lay floating, the blood flowing from its head. I

dropped the sledge, seized the harpoon, and, quick as lightning,

threw it deep into the fat back of the seal, which lay quivering

on the surface of the water. Then it began to move; there was still

life in it; and, anxious lest the harpoon with its thin line should

not hold if the huge animal began to quicken in earnest, I pulled my

knife out of its sheath and stuck it into the seal's throat, whence

a stream of blood came flowing out. The water was red with it for

a long distance, and it made one quite sorry to see the wherewithal

for a good meal being wasted like this. But there was nothing to be

done; not on any account would I lose that animal, and for the sake

of safety gave it another harpoon. Meanwhile the sledge, which had

been half dragged up on to the ice, slid down again, and the kayaks,

with Johansen and the dogs, came adrift. He tried to pull the sledge

up on to the kayak, but without success, and so it remained with one

end in the water and one on the canoe. It heeled the whole fleet

over, and Johansen's kayak canted till one side was in the water;

it leaked, moreover, like a sieve, and the water rose in it with

alarming rapidity. The cooker, which was on the deck, fell off, and

drifted gayly away before the wind with all its valuable contents,

borne high up in the water by the aluminium cap, which happily was

watertight. The 'ski' fell off and floated about, and the fleet sank

deeper and deeper in. Meanwhile I stood holding our precious prize,

not daring to let go. The whole thing was a scene of the most complete

dissolution. Johansen's kayak had by this time heeled over to such

an extent that the water reached the open seam on the deck, and the

craft filled immediately. I had no choice left but to let go the seal

and drag up the kayak before it sank. This done, heavy as it was and

full of water, the seal's turn came next, and this was much worse. We

had our work cut out to haul the immense animal hand over hand up on

to the ice; but our rejoicings were loud when we at last succeeded,

and we almost fell to dancing round it in the excess of our delight. A

water-logged kayak and soaked effects we thought nothing of at such

a supreme moment. Here were food and fuel for a long time.

"Then came the rescuing and drying of our things. First and foremost,

of course, the ammunition; it was all our stock. But happily

the cartridges were fairly water-tight, and had not suffered much

damage. Even the shot cartridges, the cases of which were of paper,

had not lain long enough to become wholly permeated. Such, however,

was not the case with a supply of powder; the small tin box in which

we kept it was entirely full of water. The other things were not so

important, though it was hardly a comforting discovery to find that

the bread was soaked through with salt-water.

"We found a camping-ground not far off. The tent was soon pitched,

our catch cut up and placed in safety, and, I may say, seldom has

the drift-ice housed beings so well satisfied as the two who sat that

morning in the bag and feasted on seal's flesh, blubber, and soup as

long as they had any room to stow it in. We concurred in the opinion

that a better-meal we could not have had. Then down we crawled into

the dear bag, which for the present there was no need to part with,

and slept the sleep of the just in the knowledge that for the immediate

future, at any rate, we need have no anxiety.

"It is my opinion that for the time being we can do nothing better

than remain where we are, live on our catch, without encroaching on

the sledge provisions, and thus await the time when the ice shall

slacken more or the condition of the snow improve. Meanwhile we

will rig up wooden grips on our sledges, and try to make the kayaks

water-tight. Furthermore, we will lighten our equipment as much

as we possibly can. If we were to go on we should only be obliged

to leave a great deal of our meat and blubber behind us, and this,

in these circumstances, I think would be madness.

"Sunday, June 23d. So this is St.-John's-eve, and Sunday, too. How

merry and happy all the schoolboys are to-day! how the folk at

home are starting forth in crowds to the beautiful Norwegian woods

and valleys!... And here are we still in the drift-ice; cooking and

frying with blubber, eating it and seal's flesh until the train-oil

drips off us, and, above all, not knowing when there will be an end

to it all. Perhaps we still have a winter before us. I could hardly

have conceived that we should be here now!

"It is a pleasing change, however, after having reduced our rations

and fuel to a minimum to be able to launch out into excesses, and eat

as much and as often as we like. It is a state of things hardly to be

realized at present. The food is agreeable to the taste, and we like it

better and better. My own opinion is that blubber is excellent both raw

and fried, and it can well take the place of butter. The meat, in our

eyes, is as good as meat can be. We had it yesterday for breakfast,

in the shape of meat and soup served with raw blubber. For dinner I

fried a highly successful steak, not to be surpassed by the 'Grand'

[Hotel], though a good 'seidel' of bock-beer would have been a welcome

addition. For supper I made blood-pancakes fried in blubber instead of

butter, and they were a success, inasmuch as Johansen pronounced them

'first-class,' to say nothing of my own sentiments. This frying,

however, inside the tent over a train-oil lamp, is a doubtful

pleasure. If the lamp itself does not smoke the blubber does, causing

the unfortunate cook the most excruciating pain in the eyes; he can

hardly keep them open, and they water copiously. But the consequences

could be even worse. The train-oil lamp which I had contrived out

of a sheet of German silver became over-heated one day under the hot

frying-pan, and at last the whole thing caught fire, both the lumps

of blubber and the train-oil. The flame shot up into the air, while

I tried by every means in my power to put it out, but it only grew

worse. The best thing would have been to convey the whole lamp outside,

but there was no time for it. The tent began to fill with suffocating

smoke, and as a last resort I unfortunately seized a handful of snow

and threw it on to the burning train-oil. It sputtered and crackled,

boiling oil flew in all directions, and from the lamp itself rose a sea

of flames which filled the whole tent and burned everything they came

near. Half-suffocated, we both threw ourselves against the closed door,

bursting off the buttons, and dashed headlong into the open air--glad,

indeed, to have escaped with our lives. With this explosion the lamp

went out; but when we came to examine the tent we found an enormous

hole burned in the silk wall above the place where the frying-pan

had stood. One of our sledge-sails had to pay the penalty for that

hole. We crept back into the tent again, congratulating ourselves,

however, on having got off so easily, and, after a great deal of

trouble, rekindled a fire so that I could fry the last pancake. We

then ate it with sugar, in the best of spirits, and pronounced it

the most delicious fare we had ever tasted. We had good reason, too,

to be in spirits, for our observation for the day made us in 82° 4.3'

north latitude and 57° 48' east longitude. In spite of westerly and,

in a measure, southwesterly winds, we had come nearly 14' south

in three days and next to nothing east. A highly surprising and

satisfactory discovery. Outside, the north wind was still blowing,

and consequently we were drifting south towards more clement regions.

"Wednesday, June 26th. June 24th was naturally celebrated with

great festivities. In the first place, it was that day two years

since we started from home; secondly it was a hundred days since

we left the Fram (not really, it was two days more); and, thirdly,

it was Midsummer-day. It was, of course, a holiday, and we passed

it in dreaming of good times to come, in studying our charts, our

future prospects, and in reading anything readable that was to be

found--i.e., the almanac and navigation-tables. Johansen took a

walk along the lanes, and also managed to miss a ringed seal, or

'snad,' as we call it in Norwegian, in a pool here east of us. Then

came supper--rather late in the night--consisting of blood-pancakes

with sugar, and unsurpassed in flavor. The frying over the oil-lamp

took a long time, and in order to have them hot we had to eat each

one as it was fried, a mode of procedure which promoted a healthy

appetite between each pancake. Thereafter we stewed some of our red

whortleberries, and they tasted no less good, although they had been

soaked in salt-water in Johansen's kayak during the catastrophe of

a couple of days ago; and after a glorious meal we turned into the

bag at 8 o'clock yesterday morning.

"At midday, again, I got up and went out to take a meridian

altitude. The weather was brilliant, and it was so long since we had

had anything of the kind that I could hardly remember it. I sat up on

the hummock, waiting for the sun to come to the meridian, basking in

its rays, and looking out over the stretches of ice, where the snow

glittered and sparkled on all sides, and at the pool in front of me

lying shining and still as a mountain lake, and reflecting its icy

banks in the clear water. Not a breath of wind stirred--so still,

so still; and the sun baked, and I dreamed myself at home....

"Before going into the tent I went to fetch some salt-water for

the soup we were to have for breakfast; but just at that moment

a seal came up by the side of the ice, and I ran back for my gun

and kayak. Out on the water I discovered that it was leaking like a

sieve from lying in the sun, and I had to paddle back faster than I

had come out, to avoid sinking. As I was emptying the kayak, up came

the seal again in front of me, and this time my shot took effect; the

animal lay floating on the water like a cork. It was not many minutes

before I had the leaking craft on the water again, and my harpoon in

the animal's neck. I towed it in while the kayak gradually filled,

and my legs, or, rather, that part which follows closely above the

legs when one is sitting in a canoe, became soaked with water, and

my 'komager' gradually filled. After having dragged the seal up to

the tent, 'flensed' it, collected all the blood which was to be had,

and cut it up, I crept into the tent, put on some dry underclothes,

and into the bag again, while the wet ones were drying outside in the

sun. It is easy enough to keep one's self warm in the tent now. The

heat was so great inside it last night that we could hardly sleep,

although we lay on the bag instead of in it. When I came back with the

seal I discovered that Johansen's bare foot was sticking out of the

tent at a place where the peg had given way; he was sleeping soundly

and had no idea of it. After having a small piece of chocolate to

commemorate the happy capture, and, looking over my observations,

we again settled down to rest.

"It appears, remarkably enough, from our latitude that we are still

on the same spot, without any farther drifts southward, in spite of

the northerly winds. Can the ice be landlocked? It is not impossible;

far off land, at any rate, we cannot be.

"Thursday, June 27th. The same monotonous life, the same wind, the

same misty weather, and the same cogitations as to what the future

will bring. There was a gale from the north last night, with a fall

of hard granular snow, which lashed against the tent walls so that

one might think it to be good honest rain. It melted on the walls

directly, and the water ran down them. It is cozy in here, however,

and the wind does not reach us; we can lie in our warm bag, and listen

to the flapping of the tent, and imagine that we are drifting rapidly

westward, although perhaps we are not moving from the spot. But if

this wind does not move us, the only explanation is that the ice is

landlocked, and that we cannot be far off shore. We must wait for an

east wind, I suppose, to drive us farther west, and then afterwards

south. My hope is that we shall drift into the channel between Franz

Josef Land and Spitzbergen while we are lying here. The weather was

raw and windy with snowfall, so that it was hardly suitable for outdoor

work, particularly as, unfortunately, there was no need to hurry.

"The lanes have changed very much of late; there is hardly anything

left of the pool in front of us, over which we paddled, and there

has been pressure around us in all directions. I hope the ice will be

well ground into pieces, as this enables it to slacken more quickly

when the time comes; but that will not be before far on in July,

and we ought to have the patience to wait for it perhaps.

"Yesterday we cut some of the seal's flesh into thin slices and hung

them up to dry. We must increase our travelling store and prepare

pemmican or dried meat; it will be the easiest way of carrying it

with us. Johansen yesterday found a pond of fresh water close by,

which is very convenient, and we need no longer melt ice; it is the

first good water we have found for cooking purposes. If the seals

are few and far between, there are birds still, I am thankful to

say. Last night a couple of ivory-gulls (Larus eburneus), were bold

enough to settle down on our sealskin, close beside the tent wall,

and pecked at the blubber. They were sent off once or twice, but

returned. If the meat falls short we must resort to catching birds."

Thus the days passed by, one exactly like the other; we waited and

waited for the snow to melt, and worked desultorily meanwhile at

getting ourselves ready to proceed. This life reminded me of some

Eskimos who journeyed up a fjord to collect grass for hay; but

when they arrived at their destination found it quite short, and so

settled down and waited till it was long enough to cut. A suitable

condition of the snow was long in coming. On June 29th I write:

"Will not the temperature rise sufficiently to make something like

an effectual clearance of the snow? We try to pass the time as best

we can in talking of how delightful it will be when we get home,

and how we shall enjoy life and all its charms, and go through a

calculation of chances as to how soon that may be; but sometimes, too,

we talk of how well we will arrange for the winter in Spitzbergen,

if we should not reach home this year. If it should come to that,

we may not even get so far, but have to winter on some place ashore

here--no, it can never come to that!

"Sunday, June 30th. So this is the end of June, and we are about

the same place as when we began the month. And the state of the

snow? Well, better it certainly is not; but the day is fine. It is so

warm that we are quite hot lying here inside the tent. Through the

open door we can see out over the ice where the sun is glittering

through white sailing cirrus clouds on the dazzling whiteness. And

then there is a Sunday calm, with a faint breeze mostly from the

southeast, I think. Ah me! it is lovely at home to-day, I am sure,

with everything in bloom and the fjord quivering in the sunlight;

and you are sitting out on the point with Liv, perhaps, or are on

the water in your boat. And then one's eye wanders out through the

door again, and I am reminded there is many an ice-floe between now

and then, before the time when I shall see it all again.

"Here we lie far up in the north; two grim, black, soot-stained

barbarians, stirring a mess of soup in a kettle and surrounded on all

sides by ice; by ice and nothing else--shining and white, possessed

of all the purity we ourselves lack. Alas, it is all too pure! One's

eye searched to the very horizon for a dark spot to rest on, but in

vain. When will it really come to pass? Now we have waited for it two

months. All the birds seemed to have disappeared to-day; not even a

cheery little auk to be seen. They were here until yesterday, and we

have heard them flying north and south, probably to and from land,

where they have gone, I suppose, now that there is so little water

about in these parts. If only we could move as easily as they!

"Wednesday, July 3d. Why write again? What have I to commit to

these pages? Nothing but the same overpowering longing to be home

and away from this monotony. One day just like the other, with

the exception, perhaps, that before it was warm and quiet, while

the last two days there has been a south wind blowing, and we are

drifting northward. Found from a meridian altitude yesterday that we

have drifted back to 82° 8.4' N., while the longitude is about the

same. Both yesterday and the day before we had to a certain extent

really brilliant sunshine, and this for us is a great rarity. The

horizon in the south was fairly clear yesterday, which it had not

been for a long time; but we searched it in vain for land. I do not

understand it....

"We had a fall of snow last night, and it dripped in here so that the

bag became wet. This constant snowfall, which will not turn to rain,

is enough to make one despair. It generally takes the form of a thick

layer of new snow on the top of the old, and this delays the thaw.

"This wind seems to have formed some lanes in the ice again, and there

is a little more bird-life. We saw some little auks again yesterday;

they came from the south, probably from land.

"Saturday, July 6th. 33.8° Fahr. (+1° C.). Rain. At last, after a

fortnight, we seem to have got the weather we have been waiting for. It

has rained the whole night and forenoon, and is still at it--real,

good rain: so now, perhaps, this everlasting snow will take itself

off; it is as soft and loose as scum. If only this rain would go on

for many days! But before we have time to look round there will be a

cold wind with snow, a crust will form, and again we must wait. I am

too used to disappointment to believe in anything. This is a school

of patience; but nevertheless the rain has put us in good spirits.

"The days drag wearily by. We work in an intermittent way at the kayak

grips of wood for our sledges, and at calking and painting our kayaks

to make them water-tight. The painting, however, causes me a good deal

of trouble. I burned bones here for many days till the whole place

smelled like the bone-dust works at Lysaker; then came the toilsome

process of pounding and grating them to make them perfectly fine

and even. The bone-dust was thereupon mixed with train-oil, and at

last I got as far as a trial, but the paint proved uncompromisingly

to be perfectly useless. So now I must mix it with soot, as I had

first intended, and add more oil. I am now occupied in smoking

the place out in my attempts to make soot; but all my exertions,

when it comes to collecting it, only result in a little pinch,

although the smoke towered in the air, and they might have seen it

in Spitzbergen. There is a great deal to do battle with when one has

not a shop next door. What would I not give for a little bucket of

oil-paint, only common lampblack! Well, well; we shall find a way out

of the difficulty eventually, but meanwhile we are growing like sweeps.

"On Wednesday evening 'Haren' was killed; poor beast, he was not good

for much latterly, but he had been a first-rate dog, and it was hard,

I fancy, for Johansen to part with him; he looked sorrowfully at the

animal before it went to the happy hunting-grounds, or wherever it

may be draught-dogs go to. Perhaps to places where there are plains

of level ice and no ridges and lanes. There are only two dogs left

now--'Suggen' and 'Kaifas'--and we must keep them alive as long as

we can, and have use for them.

"The day before yesterday, in the evening, we suddenly discovered a

black hillock to the east. We examined it through the glass and it

looked absolutely like a black rock emerging from the snows. It also

somewhat exceeded the neighboring hummocks in height. I scrutinized

it carefully from the highest ridge hereabouts, but could not make

it out. I thought it too big to be only a piled-up hummock mixed with

black ice or earthy matter, and I had never seen anything of the kind

before. That it is an island seems highly improbable; for although we

are certainly drifting, it remains in the same position in relation to

us. We saw it yesterday, and see it still to-day in the same quarter. I

think the most reasonable supposition is that it is an iceberg.

"No sooner does the horizon clear in the south than one of us may be

seen taking his customary walk to the 'watch-tower' (a hummock beside

the tent) to scan for land, sometimes with a glass, sometimes without

it; but there is nothing to be seen but the same bare horizon. [36]

"Every day I take a turn round the ice in our neighborhood to see if

the snow has decreased, but it always seems to be about the same, and

sometimes I have moments of doubt as to whether it will clear away at

all this summer. If not, our prospects will be more than dark. The

best we can hope for will then be a winter somewhere or other on

Franz Josef Land. But now the rain has come. It is pouring down the

tent walls and dripping on the ice. Everything looks hopeful again,

and we are picturing the delights of the autumn and winter at home.

"Wednesday, July 10th. It is a curious thing that now, when I really

have something of a little more interest than usual to relate, I have

less inclination to write than ever. Everything seems to become more

and more indifferent. One longs only for one single thing, and still

the ice is lying out there covered with impassable snow.

"But what was it I had to say? Oh yes, that we made ourselves such

a good bed yesterday with bearskins under the bag; that we slept

the clock round without knowing it, and I thought it was six in the

morning when I turned out. When I came out of the tent I thought there

was something remarkable about the position of the sun, and pondered

over it for a little while, until I came to the conclusion that it was

six in the evening, and that we had slumbered for twenty-two hours. We

have not slept much of late, as we have been broken on the wheel, so

to speak, by the snow-shoes we had to place under the bag, in order to

keep it clear of the pools of water under us. The apologies for hair

still existing here and there on the skin at the bottom of the bag do

not afford much protection against the sharp edges of the snow-shoes.

"This beneficent rain continued the whole day on Saturday, doing away

with a fair amount of snow, and we rejoice to hear it. To celebrate

the good weather we determined to have chocolate for supper; otherwise

we live entirely on our catch. We had the chocolate accordingly, and

served with raw blubber it tasted quite excellent. It was the cause

of a great disappointment, however, for after having looked forward

immoderately to this, now so rare, treat, I managed clumsily to upset

my whole cup, so that all the precious contents ran out over the

ice. While I was lying waiting for a second cup--it was boiling over

the train-oil lamp--'Kaifas' began to bark outside. Not doubting but

that he had seen an animal, I jumped up to hurry off to the lookout

hummock to scan the ice. Not a little surprised was I when I poked my

head out of the tent door to see a bear come jogging up to the dogs and

begin sniffing at 'Kaifas.' I sprang to the gun, which stood ready in

the snow beside the tent, and pulled off the case, the bear meanwhile

standing astonished and glaring at me. I sent it a ball through the

shoulder and chest, certain that it would drop on the spot. It half

staggered over, and then turned round and made off, and before I could

extract a new cartridge from my pocket, which was full of everything

else, was away among the hummocks. I could not get a shot at it where

it was, and set off in pursuit. I had not gone many steps before we

saw (Johansen had followed me) two more heads appearing a little way

farther on. They belonged to two cubs, which were standing on their

hind-legs and looking at their mother, who came reeling towards them,

with a trail of blood behind her. Then off they went, all three, over

a lane, and a wild chase began over plains and ridges and lanes and

every kind of obstacle, but it made no difference to their pace. A

wonderful thing this love of sport; it is like setting fire to a

fuse. Where at other times it would be laborious work to get on at all,

where one sinks to the knees in the snow, and where one would hesitate

before choosing a way over the lane, let only the spark be kindled,

and one clears every obstacle without thinking about it. The bear was

severely wounded, and dragged her left fore-leg; she did not go fast,

but always so fast that I had my work cut out to keep near her. The

cubs ran round her in their solicitude, and generally a little way

in front, as if to get her to come with them; they little knew what

was the matter with her. Suddenly they all three looked back at me,

as I was crashing after them as fast as I could. I had been within

range many times, but the bear had had her hind quarters towards me,

and when I fired I meant to be sure of making an end of her, as I only

had three cartridges with me, one for each of them. At last, on the top

of a huge hummock, I got a sight of her broadside on, and there, too,

she dropped. The cubs hurried anxiously up to her when she fell--it

made one sorry to see them--they sniffed at and pushed her, and ran

round and round, at a loss what to do in their despair. Meanwhile I had

put another cartridge in the rifle, and picked off the other cub as it

was standing on a projection. It fell over the declivity with a growl,

and down on to its mother. Still more frightened than before, the other

cub hastened to its succor; but, poor thing, what could it do? While

its brother rolled over, growling, it stood there looking sorrowfully

sometimes at it, sometimes at the mother, who lay dying in a pool of

blood. When I approached, it turned its head away indifferently; what

did it care about me now? All its kindred, everything it held dear,

lay there mutilated and destroyed. It no longer knew whither to go,

and did not move from the spot. I went right up to it, and, with a

spherical ball through the breast, it fell dead beside its mother.

"Johansen soon came up. A lane had detained him, so that he had

lost ground. We opened the animals, took out the entrails, and

then went back to the tent to fetch the sledges and dogs and proper

flaying-knives. Our second cup of chocolate in the tent tasted very

good after this interruption. When we had skinned and cut up the two

bears we left them in a heap, covered over with the skins to protect

the meat from the gulls; the third one we took back with us. The

next day we fetched the others, and now have more meat food than we

shall be able to consume, I hope. It is a good thing, though, that we

can give the dogs as much raw meat as they will eat; they certainly

require it. 'Suggen,' poor thing, is in a very bad way, and it is a

question whether we can get any more work out of him. When we took

him with us after the bears the first day, he could not walk, and we

had to place him on the sledge; but then he howled so terrifically,

as much as to say it was beneath his dignity to be transported in this

way, that Johansen had to take him home again. The dogs seem to be

attacked with a paralysis of the legs; they fall down, and have the

greatest difficulty in rising. It has been the same with all of them,

from 'Gulen' downward. 'Kaifas,' however, is as fresh and well as ever.

"It is remarkable how large these cubs were. I could hardly imagine

that they were born this year, and should without hesitation have

put them down as a year old if the she-bear had not been in milk,

and it is hardly to be supposed that the cubs would suck for a year

and a half. Those we shot by the Fram on November 4th last year were

hardly half the size of these. It would seem as if the polar bear

produces its young at different times of the year. In the paunches

of the cubs were pieces of skin from a seal.

"Monday, July 15th. As we were working at the kayaks yesterday a Ross's

gull (Rhodostethia rosea) came flying by. It was a full-grown bird, and

made a turn when just over us, showing its pretty rose-colored breast,

and then disappeared again in the mist southward. On Thursday I saw

another adult Ross's gull, with a black ring round its neck; it came

from the northeast, and flew in a southwesterly direction. Otherwise

it is remarkable how all the birds have disappeared from here. The

little auk is no longer to be seen or heard; the only birds are an

ivory-gull now and then, and occasionally a fulmar.

"Wednesday, July 17th. At last the time is drawing near when we can

be off again and start homeward in earnest. The snow has decreased

sufficiently to make advance fairly easy. We are doing our utmost

to get ready. The grips on the sledges are nicely arranged, and

provided with cushions of bearskin on Johansen's and of cloth on

mine. This is in order to give the kayaks a firm and soft bed and

prevent chafing. The kayaks are painted with soot and train-oil, and

have been calked with pastels (for drawing), crushed and also mixed

with train-oil; that is to say, as far as these various ingredients

would go. We are now using a mixture of stearine, pitch, and resin,

[37] to finish up with. A thorough revision of our equipment will

take place, and everything not absolutely invaluable will be left

behind. We must say good-bye here to the sleeping-bag and tent. [38]

Our days of comfort are past, and henceforth until we are on board

the sloop [39] we will live under the open sky.

"Meanwhile we have lain here--'Longing Camp,' as we call it--and let

the time slip by. We have eaten bear-meat morning, noon, and night,

and, so far from being tired of it, have made the discovery that the

breast of the cubs is quite a delicacy. It is remarkable that this

exclusive meat and fat diet has not caused us the slightest discomfort

in any way, and we have no craving for farinaceous food, although we

might, perhaps, regard a large cake as the acme of happiness. Every now

and then we cheer ourselves up with lime-juice grog, a blood-pancake,

or some stewed whortleberries, and let our imaginations run riot over

all the amenities of civilization, which we mean to enjoy to the full

when we get home! Perhaps it will be many a long day before we get

there; perhaps there will be many a hard trial to overcome. But, no;

I will believe the best. There are still two months of summer left,

and in them something can be done.

"Friday, July 19th. Two full-grown Ross's gulls flew over here from

the northeast and went west this morning. When far off they uttered

cries which reminded me of that of the wryneck, and which I at first

thought came from a little auk. They flew quite low, just over my head,

and the rose-color of their under-parts could be seen plainly. Another

Ross's gull flew by here yesterday. It is strange that there should

be so many of them. Where are we?

"Tuesday, July 23d. Yesterday forenoon we at last got clear of

'Longing Camp,' and now, I am thankful to say, we are again on the

move. We have worked day and night to get off. First we thought it

would be on the 19th, then the 20th, and then the 21st, but something

always cropped up that had to be done before we could leave. The bread,

which had been soaked in sea-water, had to be carefully dried in the

frying-pan over the lamp, and this took several days; then the socks

had to be patched, and the kayaks carefully looked over, etc. We were

determined to start on our last journey home in good repair, and so we

did. Everything goes like wildfire. The chances of progress are better

than we expected, although the ice is anything but even; the sledges

are lighter to draw, now that everything that can be dispensed with is

left behind, and the snow, too, has decreased considerably. On the last

part of the journey yesterday we could even go without snow-shoes, and,

as a matter of course, progress among the ridges and irregularities,

where they are difficult to manage, is quicker without them. Johansen

performed a feat by crossing a lane alone in his kayak, with 'Suggen'

lying on the fore-deck, while he himself knelt on the after-deck and

balanced the craft as he paddled. I began to try the same with mine,

but found it too cranky to risk the attempt, and preferred to tow

it over, with 'Kaifas' on the deck, while I went carefully alongside

and jumped over on some pieces of ice.

"We have now the advantage of finding drinking-water everywhere. We

are also eating our old provender again; but, curiously enough,

neither Johansen nor I think the farinaceous food as good as one

might suppose after a month of meat diet. It is good to be under

way again, and not the least pleasant part about it is our lighter

sledges; but then we certainly left a good deal behind at 'Longing

Camp.' In addition to a respectable mound of meat and blubber, we

left three fine bearskins. Our friend, the bag, too, is lying on

the top of the bears; a quantity of wood, consisting of the boards

from under the sledges, the snow-shoes and other things, more than

half of Blessing's fine medicaments--plaster-of-Paris bandages,

soft steam-sterilized gauze bandages, hygroscopic cotton wadding--to

say nothing of a good aluminium horizon-glass, rope, our combined

frying-pan and melter, half an aluminium cap belonging to the cooker,

sheets of German silver, a train-oil lamp of the same, bags, tools,

sail-cloth, Finn shoes, our wolfskin fingerless gloves, also woollen

ones, a geological hammer, half a shirt, socks, and other sundries,

all strewn about in chaotic confusion. Instead of all these we have an

augmentation in the form of a sack of dried seal's and bear's flesh

and the other half of the aluminium cap full of blubber. We are now

thoroughly divested of all superfluous articles, and there is hardly

so much as a bit of wood to be had if one should want a stick to slip

through the end of the hauling-rope."