I felt as if I should have choked, and all I could say was, "The

Fram has arrived!" Sir George, who was standing by, gave a great

leap of joy; Johansen's face was radiant; Christofersen was quite

overcome with gladness; and there in the midst of us stood the head

of the telegraph-office enjoying the effect he had produced. In an

instant I dashed into my cabin to shout to my wife that the Fram had

arrived. She was dressed and out in double-quick time. But I could

scarcely believe it--it seemed like a fairy tale. I read the telegram

again and again before I could assure myself that it was not all a

dream; and then there came a strange, serene happiness over my mind

such as I had never known before.

There was jubilation on board and over all the harbor and town. From

the Windward, which was just weighing anchor to precede us to Tromsö,

we heard ringing cheers for the Fram and the Norwegian flag. We had

intended to start for Tromsö that afternoon, but now we agreed to get

under way as quickly as possible, so as to try to overtake the Fram

at Skjærvö, which lay just on our route. I attempted to stop her by

a telegram to Sverdrup, but it arrived too late.

It was a lively breakfast we had that morning. Johansen and I spoke

of how incredible it seemed that we should soon press our comrades'

hands again. Sir George was almost beside himself with joy. Every now

and then he would spring up from his chair, thump the table, and cry,

"The Fram has arrived! The Fram has really arrived!" Lady Baden-Powell

was quietly happy; she enjoyed our joy.

The next day we entered Tromsö harbor, and there lay the Fram, strong

and broad and weather-beaten. It was strange to see again that high

rigging and the hull we knew so well. When last we saw her she was half

buried in the ice; now she floated freely and proudly on the blue sea,

in Norwegian waters. We glided alongside of her. The crew of the Otaria

greeted the gallant ship with three times three English cheers, and the

Fram replied with a ninefold Norwegian hurrah. We dropped our anchor,

and the next moment the Otaria was boarded by the Fram's sturdy crew.

The meeting which followed I shall not attempt to describe. I don't

think any of us knew anything clearly, except that we were all together

again--we were in Norway--and the expedition had fulfilled its task.

Then we set off together southward along the Norwegian coast. First

came the tug Haalogaland, chartered by the government; then the Fram,

heavy and slow, but so much the surer; and last the elegant Otaria,

with my wife and me on board--which was to take us to Trondhjem. What

a blessed sensation it was to sit in peace at last, and see others

take the lead and pick out the way!

Wherever we passed, the heart of the Norwegian people went out to us,

from the steamers crowded with holiday-making townsfolk, and from the

poorest fishing-boat that lay alone among the skerries. It seemed

as if old Mother Norway were proud of us, as if she pressed us in

a close and warm embrace, and thanked us for what we had done. And

what was it, after all? We had only done our duty; we had simply

accomplished the task we had undertaken; and it was we who owed her

thanks for the right to sail under her flag. I remember one morning

in particular. It was in Brönösund--the morning was still gray and

chill when I was called up--there were so many people who wanted to

greet us. I was half asleep when I came on deck. The whole sound was

crowded with boats. We had been going slowly through them, but now

the Haalogaland in front put on more speed, and we too went a little

quicker. A fisherman in his boat toiled at the oars to keep up with

us; it was no easy work. Then he shouted up to me:

"You don't want to buy any fish, do you?"

"No, I don't think we do."

"I suppose you can't tell me where Nansen is? Is he on board the Fram?"

"No, I believe he's on board this ship," was the reply.

"Oh, I wonder if I couldn't get on board? I'm so desperately anxious

to see him."

"It can hardly be done, I'm afraid; they haven't time to stop now."

"That's a pity. I want to see the man himself."

He went on rowing. It became harder and harder to keep up, but

he stared fixedly at me as I leaned on the rail smiling, while

Christofersen stood laughing at my side.

"Since you're so anxious to see the man himself, I may tell you that

you see him now," said I.

"Is it you? Is it you? Didn't I guess as much! Welcome home again!"

And thereupon the fisherman dropped his oars, stood up in his boat,

and took off his cap. As we went on through the splendor of the

morning, and I sat on the deck of the luxurious English yacht and

saw the beautiful barren coast stretching ahead in the sunshine, I

realized to the full for the first time how near this land and this

people lay to my heart. If we had sent a single gleam of sunlight

over their lives, these three years had not been wasted.

"This Norway, this Norway...

It is dear to us, so dear,

And no people has a fairer land than this our homeland here.

Oh, the shepherding in spring,

When the birds begin to sing,

When the mountain-peak glitters and green grows the lea,

And the turbulent river sweeps brown to the sea!...

Whoso knows Norway must well understand

How her sons can suffer for such a land."

One felt all the vitality and vigor throbbing in this people, and

saw as in a vision its great and rich future, when all its prisoned

forces shall be unfettered and set free.

Now one had returned to life, and it stretched before one full of

light and hope. Then came the evenings when the sun sank far out

behind the blue sea, and the clear melancholy of autumn lay over the

face of the waters. It was too beautiful to believe in. A feeling of

dread came over one; but the silhouette of a woman's form, standing

out against the glow of the evening sky, gave peace and security.

So we passed from town to town, from fête to fête, along the

coast of Norway. It was on September 9th that the Fram steamed up

Christiania Fjord and met with such a reception as a prince might

have envied. The stout old men-of-war Nordstjernen and Elida, the new

and elegant Valkyrie, and the nimble little torpedo-boats led the way

for us. Steamboats swarmed around, all black with people. There were

flags high and low, salutes, hurrahs, waving of handkerchiefs and

hats, radiant faces everywhere, the whole fjord one multitudinous

welcome. There lay home, and the well-known strand before it,

glittering and smiling in the sunshine. Then steamers on steamers

again, shouts after shouts; and we all stood, hat in hand, bowing as

they cheered.

The whole of Peppervik was one mass of boats and people and flags

and waving pennants. Then the men-of-war saluted with thirteen guns

apiece, and the old fort of Akershus followed with its thirteen peals

of thunder, that echoed from the hills around.

In the evening I stood on the strand out by the fjord. The echoes had

died away, and the pine woods stood silent and dark around. On the

headland the last embers of a bonfire of welcome still smouldered and

smoked, and the sea rippling at my feet seemed to whisper, "Now you

are at home." The deep peace of the autumn evening sank beneficently

over the weary spirit.

I could not but recall that rainy morning in June when I last set

foot on this strand. More than three years had passed; we had toiled

and we had sown, and now the harvest had come. In my heart I sobbed

and wept for joy and thankfulness.

The ice and the long moonlit polar nights, with all their yearning,

seemed like a far-off dream from another world--a dream that had come

and passed away. But what would life be worth without its dreams?

The Mean Temperature of Every Month during Nansen and

Johansen's Sledge Journey

Date Mean Temperature Maximum Minimum

(Fahr.)

° ° °

March (16-31), 1895 -37 -9 -51

April, 1895 -20 -2 -35

May, 1895 -24 28 -11

June, 1895 30 38 9

July, 1895 32 37 28

August, 1895 29 36 19

September, 1895 +20 41 -4

October, 1895 -1 16 -13

November, 1895 -13 10 -35

December, 1895 -13 12 -37

January, 1896 -14 19 -46

February, 1896 -10 30 -40

March, 1896 10 30 -29

April, 1896 8 27 -16

May, 1896 18 43 -11

June (1-16), 1896 29 39 23

APPENDIX

REPORT OF CAPTAIN OTTO SVERDRUP ON THE DRIFTING OF THE "FRAM"

FROM MARCH 14, 1895

CHAPTER I

MARCH 15 TO JUNE 22, 1895

As far back as February 26th Dr. Nansen had officially informed the

crew that after he left the ship I was to be chief officer of the

expedition, and Lieutenant Scott-Hansen second in command. Before

starting, he handed me a letter, or set of instructions, which have

been mentioned earlier in the volume. [85]

The day after that on which the postscript to my instructions is

dated--i.e., on Thursday, March 14th, at 11.30 A.M.--Dr. Nansen and

Johansen left the Fram and set forth on their sledge expedition. We

gave them a parting salute with flag, pennant, and guns. Scott-Hansen,

Henriksen, and Pettersen accompanied them as far as the first

camping-place, 7 or 8 miles from the vessel, and returned the next

day at 2.30 P.M.

In the morning they had helped to harness the dogs and put them to

the three sledges. In the team of the last sledge there were "Barnet"

and "Pan," who all the time had been mortal enemies. [86] They began

to fight, and Henriksen had to give "Barnet" a good thrashing in

order to part him from the other. In consequence of this fight the

last team was somewhat behind in starting. The other dogs were all

the while hauling with all their might, and when the thrashing scene

was over, and the disturbers of the peace suddenly commenced to pull,

the sledge started off faster than Johansen had calculated, and he was

left behind and had to strike out well on his snowshoes. Scott-Hansen

and the others followed the sledging party with their eyes until they

looked like little black dots far, far away on the boundless plain

of ice. With a last sad lingering look after the two whom, perhaps,

they might never see again, they put on their snow-shoes and started

on their journey back.

At the time when the sledge expedition started the Fram lay in 84°

4' north latitude and 102° east longitude. The situation was briefly

as follows: The vessel was ice-bound in about 25 feet of ice, with a

slight list to starboard. She had thus a layer of ice, several feet

in thickness, underneath her keel. Piled high against the vessel's

side, to port, along her entire length, there extended from S.S.E. to

N.N.W. a pressure-ridge reaching up to about the height of the rail

on the half-deck aft and slanting slightly eastward from the ship. At

a distance of about 160 yards to the northwest there extended in the

direction from south to north a long and fairly broad ice-mound, the

so-called "great hummock," as much as 22 feet high in places. Midway

between the Fram and the great hummock there was a newly formed open

lane about 50 yards wide, while across her bow, at a distance of

50 yards, there was an old channel that had been closed up by the

ice-pressure, but which opened later on in the spring.

Upon the "great hummock," which had been formed by the violent

ice-pressure on January 27, 1894, we had established our depot on

the slope looking towards the ship. The depot consisted of piled-up

tin boxes, containing provisions and other necessaries, and formed

six or seven small mounds covered with sail-cloth. Moreover, our

snow-shoes and sledges were stored there. Half-way between the vessel

and the great hummock lay the petroleum launch, which, when the new

channel or rift had opened right under her, had to be drawn a little

way farther out on to the ice. Finally, there was our forge. This

was situated about 30 yards off, a little abaft the port quarter,

and was hewn out in the slope of the above-mentioned pressure-ridge,

the roof being made of a quantity of spars over which blocks of ice

were piled, with a layer of snow on the top, all frozen together so

as to form a compact mass. A tarpaulin served in place of a door.

The first and most pressing work which we had to take in hand was

to remove part of the high-pressure ridge on the port side. I was

afraid that if the ice-pressure continued the vessel might be forced

down instead of upward while she had so high a ridge of ice resting

against the whole of her port side. The work was commenced by all

hands on March 19th. We had five sledges, and a box on each, and each

worked by two men. There were two parties at work simultaneously with

one sledge each--forward, and two parties aft--working towards each

other, while the fifth party, of two men with one sledge, were cutting

a passage 13 feet wide right up to the middle of the vessel. The layer

of ice which was in this way removed from all along the vessel's side

reached to double the height of a man, except in the central passage,

where it had previously been removed to a depth of about three yards,

partly in view of possible ice-pressure against this, the lowest part

of the hull, and partly in order to clear the gangway, by which the

dogs passed to and from the vessel.

The carting away of ice commenced on the 19th and concluded on March

27th. The whole of the pressure-ridge on the port side was removed

down to such a depth that two and a half planks of the ship's ice-skin

were free. All the time while this work was going on the weather was

fairly cold, the temperature down to -38° and -40°C. (-36.4° and -40°

Fahr.). However, all passed off well and successfully, except that

Scott-Hansen was unfortunate enough to have one of his big toes frozen.

The doctor and I were together at the same sledge. My diary says:

"He always suspected me of being out of temper, and I him." As a

matter of fact, it is my habit to dislike talking when I am busy

with any work, while the reverse is the case with the doctor. As,

according to my custom, I kept silence, the doctor believed that I

was in a bad humor, and in the same way I fancied that he was in the

sulks, because he abstained from chatting. But the misunderstanding

was soon cleared up, and we laughed heartily at it.

As Dr. Nansen's and Johansen's departure afforded an opportunity for

a more comfortable redistribution of quarters, I moved into Nansen's

cabin, after having packed in cases the effects he left behind, and

stowed them away in the forehold. Jacobsen, the mate, who was formerly

quartered with four of the crew in the large cabin on the port side,

had my cabin allotted to him; and in the starboard cabin, where four

men had been quartered, there were now only three. The workroom, too,

was restored to its former honor and dignity. The lamp-glasses of the

oil-stove there had got broken in the course of the year. Amundsen

now replaced these with chimneys of tin, and fitted thin sheets of

mica over the peep-holes. The stove having thus been repaired, the

workroom became the busiest and most comfortable compartment in the

whole vessel.

After the various operations of shifting and putting in order the

things on board and in the depot, our next care was to insure easy and

convenient access to the vessel by constructing a proper gangway aft,

consisting of two spars with packing-case planks nailed between them

and a rope hand-rail attached.

When all this was done we set to work at the long and manifold

preparations of every kind for a sledge journey southward, in the event

(which, as a matter of fact, none of us considered likely) of our

being obliged to abandon the Fram. We constructed sledges and kayaks,

sewed bags for our stores, selected and weighed out provisions and

other necessaries, etc., etc. This work kept us busy for a long time.

In addition to all the other things we had to provide ourselves with

more snow-shoes, as we were scantily supplied with them. Snow-shoes

we must have, good strong ones, at least one pair to every man. But

where were the materials to come from? There was no more wood fit

for making snow-shoes to be found on board. It is true that we had

a large piece of oak timber left available, but we were in need of

a suitable instrument to split it with, as it could not be cut up

with the small saws we had on board. In our dilemma we had recourse

to the ice-saw. Amundsen converted it (by filing it in a different

way) into a rip-saw; Bentzen made handles for it; and as soon as it

was ready, Mogstad and Henriksen commenced to saw the beam of oak to

pieces. At first the work went slowly, most of the time being taken

up with filing and setting the saw; but gradually it went better,

and on April 6th the timber was cut up into six pairs of good boards

for making snow-shoes, which we temporarily deposited in the saloon

for drying. As I consider Canadian snowshoes superior to Norwegian

snow-shoes, when it is a question of hauling heavily loaded sledges

over such a rough and uneven surface as is presented by polar ice,

I directed Mogstad to make ten Canadian pairs of maple-wood, of which

we had a quantity on board. Instead of the netting of reindeer-skin

we stretched sail-cloth over the frames. This did the same service as

network, while it had the advantage of being easier to repair. With

the snow-shoes which we had we undertook frequent excursions, more

particularly Scott-Hansen and myself. While out on one of these trips,

on which Amundsen, Nordahl, and Pettersen also accompanied us, 3 miles

west of the vessel we came across a large hummock, which we named

"Lovunden," on account of its resemblance to the island "Lovunden," off

the coast of Heligoland. This hummock presented very good snow-shoeing

slopes, and we practised there to our heart's content.

On May 1st we had finished the snow-shoes intended for daily use, and

I gave orders that, henceforth, daily snow-shoe trips should be made

by all hands from 11 A.M. till 1 P.M., if the weather was good. These

snow-shoe runs were to everybody's taste, and were necessary, not only

in order to afford brisk exercise in the open air, but also in order

to impart to those who were less accustomed to snow-shoes a sufficient

degree of skill in the event of our having to abandon the Fram.

While the removal of the ridge was proceeding there continued to be

a good deal of disturbance in the ice. Twenty yards from the vessel

a new lane was formed running parallel to the old one between us from

the depot; and in addition to this a number of larger or smaller cracks

had opened in all directions. A little later on, during the time from

April 11th to May 9th, there was on the whole considerable disturbance

in the ice, with several violent pressures in the lanes around the

vessel. On the first-mentioned day, in the evening, Scott-Hansen and

I took a snow-shoe trip towards the northeast, along the new channel

between the vessel and the depot. On our way back pressure set in in

the channel, and we had an opportunity of witnessing a "screwing"

such as I had never seen equalled. First there was quite a narrow

channel, running parallel to the principal channel, which was covered

over with young ice about 2 feet thick. Thereupon a larger channel

opened just beyond the first and running alongside it. During the

pressure which then followed, the edges crashed against each other

with such violence as to force the ice down, so that we frequently

saw it from 3 to 4 fathoms deep under water.

Newly frozen sea-ice is marvellously elastic, and will bend to an

astonishing degree without breaking. In another place we saw how the

new ice had bulged up in large wave-like eminences, without breaking.

On May 5th the wide lane aft was jammed up by ice-pressure, and in its

stead a rift was formed in the ice on the port side about 100 yards

from us, and approximately parallel to the ship. Thus we now lay in an

altered position, inasmuch as the Fram was no longer connected with

and dependent on one solid and continuous ice-field, but separated

from it by more or less open channels and attached to a large floe

which was daily decreasing in size as new cracks were formed.

The principal channel aft of the vessel continued to open out during

the latter part of April, and on the 29th had become very wide. It

extended north as far as the eye could reach, and was conspicuous,

moreover, by reason of the dark reflection which seemed to hover above

it in the sky. It probably attained its maximum width on May 1st, when

Scott-Hansen and I measured it and found that just astern of the vessel

it was 975 yards, and farther north over 1500 yards (1432 metres) in

width. Had the Fram been loose at the time I should have gone north

in the channel as far as possible; but this was not to be thought of,

seeing how the ship had been raised up on and walled in by the ice.

No later than May 2d the principal channel closed up again. The mate,

Nordahl, and Amundsen, who just then happened to be out on a snow-shoe

trip south along the channel, were eye-witnesses of the jamming of

the ice, which they described as having been a grand sight. The fresh

southeasterly wind had imparted a considerable impetus to the ice,

and when the edges of the ice approached each other with considerable

velocity and force, two large projecting tongues first came into

collision with a crash like thunder, and in a moment were forced up

in a hummock about 20 feet high, only to collapse soon after, and

disappear with equal suddenness under the edge of the ice. Wherever

the ice was not forced up into the air, the one ice-edge would slide

over or under the other, while all the projecting tongues and blocks

of ice were crushed to thousands of fragments, which filled up pretty

evenly any small crevices still remaining of what had before been

such a mighty opening.

Our drift towards the north during the first month was almost nil. For

instance, on April 19th we had not advanced more than 4 minutes of

latitude (about 4 miles) to the north. Nor did we drift much to the

west in the same period. Later on we made better headway, but not,

by a long way, as much as in 1894. On May 23d I wrote in the Journal

as follows: "We are all very anxious to see what will be the net

result of our spring drift. If we could reach 60° east longitude by

the summer or autumn, I believe we could be certain to get back home

about the autumn of 1896. The spring drift this year is considerably

less strong than last year, but perhaps it may continue longer into the

summer. If we were to drift this year as far as last, during the time

from May 16th to June 16th, we should reach 68° east longitude, but it

will not be possible now to reach that longitude so early. Possibly

we may manage this year to escape the strong back-drift during the

summer, make a little headway instead, and if so it will be all the

better for us. The ice is not so much cut up by channels this year

as it was this time last year. It is true there are a good many;

but last year we could scarcely get about at all, simply on account

of the lanes. This year we have large sheets of ice ahead of us in

which scarcely any openings are to be found."

In order to observe the drift of the ice we prepared a kind of

log-line, from 100 to 150 fathoms in length, to the end of which

there was attached a conical open bag of loosely woven material,

in which small animals could be caught up. Immediately above the

bag a lead was fitted to the line, so that the bag itself might drag

freely in the water. The log was lowered through a fairly wide hole

in the ice, which it was a most difficult task to keep open during

the cold season. Several times a day the line was examined and the

"angle of drift" was measured. For this measurement we had constructed

a quadrant fitted with a plumb-line. Now and then we would haul in

the log-line to see whether it was still in order and to collect

whatever the bag might contain in the way of little animals or other

objects. As a rule the contents were insignificant, consisting only

of a few specimens of low organisms.

At the end of May the "spring drift" was over. The wind veered round

to the S.W., W., and N.W. The back-drift or "summer drift" then set

in. However, it was not of long duration, as by June 8th we again

had an easterly wind with a good drift to the west, so that on the

22d we were at 84° 31.7' north latitude and 80° 58' east longitude;

and during the last days of June and the greater part of July the

drift went still better.

A circumstance which helped to increase the monotony of our drift in

the ice during the winter and spring, 1895, was the great scarcity

of animal life in that part of the Polar Sea. For long periods at a

stretch we did not see a single living thing; even the polar bears,

who roam so far, were not to be seen. Hence the appearance in the

afternoon of May 7th of a small seal in a newly opened lane, close by

the vessel, was hailed with universal delight. It was the first seal

that we had set eyes upon since March. Subsequently we often saw seals

of the same kind in the open channels, but they were very shy, so that

it was not until well on in the summer that we succeeded in killing

one, and this was so small that we ate the whole of it at one meal.

On May 14th Pettersen told us that he had seen a white bird, as

he thought an ice-gull, flying westward. On the 22d Mogstad saw a

snow-bunting, which circled round the vessel, and after this the

harbingers of spring became daily more numerous.

Our hunting-bags, however, were very scanty. It was not until June 10th

that we secured the first game, when the doctor succeeded in shooting

a fulmar and a kittiwake (Larus tridactylus). True, he prefaced

these exploits by sundry misses, but in the end he managed to hit

the birds, and "all's well that ends well." As regards the fulmar,

it was an exciting chase, as it had only been winged, and took refuge

in the open channel. Pettersen was the first to go after it, followed

by Amundsen, the doctor, Scott-Hansen, and the whole pack of dogs,

and at last they managed to secure it.

After this it was a matter of daily occurrence to see birds quite near,

and in order to be better able to secure them, and seals to boot,

we moored our sealing-boat in the open channel. This was equipped

with a sail, and with ballast composed of some of the castings from

the windmill; which we had been obliged to take down; and the very

first evening after the boat had been put on the water, Scott-Hansen,

Henriksen, and Bentzen went for a sail in the channel. The dogs seized

this occasion to take some capital exercise. They took it into their

heads to follow the boat along the edge of the channel backward and

forward as the boat tacked; it was stiff work for them to keep always

abreast of it, as they had to make many detours round small channels

and bays in the ice, and when at last they had got near it, panting,

and with their tongues protruding far from their mouths, the boat

would go about, and they had to cover the same ground over again.

On June 20th the doctor and I shot one black guillemot each. We also

saw some little auks, but the dogs, entering too eagerly into the

sport, as a welcome break in the prolonged oppressive solitude and

monotony, rushed ahead of us and scared the birds away before we

could get a shot at them.

As I have already mentioned, the mill had to be taken down. The

shaft broke one fine day below the upper driving-wheel, and had to

be removed and taken to the forge for repair. Pettersen welded it

together again, and on May 9th the mill was again in sufficiently

good order for use. But it wore out very speedily, more especially

in the gearings, so that, after the first week or two in June, it

was almost useless. We therefore pulled it down, and stowed away

all wooden parts and castings on the ridge on the port side, except

portions of hard wood, which we kept on board, and found very useful

for making up into sledge-shafts and other things.

The weather was good all through March, April, and May, with mild

easterly breezes or calms, and, as a rule, a clear atmosphere. Once or

twice the wind veered round to the south or west, but these changes

were invariably of short duration. This settled calm weather at last

became quite a trial to us, as it contributed in a great measure to

increase the dreariness and monotony of the scene around us, and

had a depressing effect on our spirits. Matters improved a little

towards the end of May, when for a time we had a fresh westerly

breeze. To be sure this was a contrary wind, but it was, at any rate,

a little change. On June 8th the wind veered round to the east again,

and now increased in strength, so that on Sunday, the 9th, we had

half a gale from the E.S.E., with a velocity of 33 feet per second,

being the strongest fair wind we had had for a long time.

It was astonishing what a change a single day of fair wind would

work in the spirits of all on board. Those who previously moved

about dreamily and listlessly now awakened to fresh courage and

enterprise. Every face beamed with satisfaction. Previously our daily

intercourse consisted of the monosyllables "Yes" and "No"; now we were

brimming over with jokes and fun from morning to night: laughter and

song and lively chat was heard all around. And with our spirits rose

our hopes for a favorable drift. The chart was brought out again and

again, and the forecasts made were apt to be sanguine enough. "If the

wind keeps long in this quarter we shall be at such and such a spot on

such and such a day. It is as clear as daylight we shall be home some

time in the autumn of 1896. Just see how we have drifted up to now,

and the farther we get west the faster we shall go," and so forth.

The cold which in the middle of March did not exceed -40° C., kept

steadily at from -30° to -25° during April, but it decreased at a

comparatively rapid rate in May, so that by about the middle of the

month the thermometer registered -14°, and in the latter part only

-6°. On June 3d--so far the warmest day--a large pond of water had

formed close to the vessel, although the highest temperature attained

that day was -2°, and the weather was overcast. [87]

On June 5th the thermometer for the first time stood above

freezing-point--viz., at +0.2°. It then fell again for a few days,

going down to -6°; but on the 11th it rose again to about 2° above

freezing-point, and so on.

The amount of atmospheric moisture deposited during the above-mentioned

period was most insignificant; only a very slight snowfall now

and then. However, Thursday, June 6th, was an exception. The wind,

which for several days had been blowing from the south and west,

veered round to the northwest during the night, and at 8 A.M. next

morning it changed to the north, blowing a fresh breeze, with an

exceptionally heavy snowfall.

We saw the midnight sun for the first time during the night of

April 2d.

One of the scientific tasks of the expedition was to investigate

the depth of the Polar Sea. Our lines, which were weak and not very

suitable for this purpose, were soon so worn by friction, corrosion,

oxidation, etc., that we were compelled not only to use them most

cautiously, but also to limit the number of soundings far more than

was desirable. It sometimes happened that the line would break while

being hauled in, so that a good deal of it was lost.

The first sounding after the departure of Dr. Nansen and Johansen was

taken on April 23d. We thought we should be able to lower away down

to 3000 metres (1625 fathoms) in one run, but as the line commenced

to slacken at 1900 metres (1029 fathoms) we thought we had touched

bottom and hauled the line up again. As it appeared that the line

had not reached the bottom, we now let down 3000 metres of line

(1625 fathoms), but in doing so we lost about 900 metres of line

(487 fathoms). Accordingly I assumed that we had touched ground at

2100 metres (1138 fathoms), and I therefore lowered the line to that

depth without touching bottom. The next day we took new soundings

at depths of 2100, 2300, 2500, and 3000 metres respectively (1137,

1245, 1353, and 1625 fathoms), but all without touching bottom. On

the third day, April 25th, we sounded first at 3000 metres, and then

at 3200 metres (1625 and 1733 fathoms) without touching bottom. The

steel-line being too short we had to lengthen it with a hemp-line,

and now went down to 3400 metres (1841 fathoms). While hauling up we

perceived that the line broke, and found that, in addition to the

110 fathoms' length of hemp-line, we had lost about 275 fathoms of

steel-line. We then stopped taking soundings till July 22d, as the

hemp-lines were so badly worn that we dared not venture to use them

again until milder weather set in.

Wind and weather were, of course, a favorite topic on board the Fram,

especially in connection with our drift. As is but right and proper,

we had a weather-prophet on board--to wit, Pettersen. His specialty was

to predict fair wind, and in this respect he was untiring, although

his predictions were by no means invariably fulfilled. But he also

posed as a prophet in other departments, and nothing seemed to delight

him more than the offer of a bet with him on his predictions. If he

won he was beaming with good humor for days at a stretch, and if he

lost he often knew how to shroud both his forecast and the result

in oracular mystery and darkness so that both parties appeared to

be right. At times, as already hinted, he was unlucky, and then he

was mercilessly chaffed; but at other times he would have a run of

astounding luck, and then his courage would rise to such an extent

that he was ready to prophesy and bet about anything.

Among his great misfortunes was a bet made with the mate on May 4th

that we should have land in sight by the end of October. And on May

24th he made a bet with Nordahl that by Monday night (the 27th) we

should be at 80° east longitude. Needless to say we all wished that

his incredible predictions might come true; but alas! the miracle

did not happen, for it was not until June 27th that the Fram passed

the 80th degree of longitude.

During the latter part of May the sun and the spring weather commenced

to disperse the layer of snow around the vessel to such an extent as

to make quite a little pond of snow-water on the ice forward. As at

that part especially, but also all along the side of the vessel, the

snow was full of soot, refuse, and the clearings from the kennels,

it was greatly to be feared that an injurious, or, at any rate,

obnoxious smell might arise, and if, besides this, as was the case

last year, a pond should form round the vessel, the water in it would

be too impure to be used in flushing the deck. I therefore set all

hands to work to cart away the snow from the starboard side--a job

which took about two days.

The setting in of spring now kept us busy with various things for

some time, both on board and on the ice. One of the first things to

be done was to bring our depot safely on board, as lanes and rifts

were now forming more frequently in the ice, and some of the goods

in the depot would not bear exposure to damp.

The action of the sun's rays on the awning or tent soon became so

strong that the snow underneath the boats and on the davits began to

melt. All snow and ice had therefore to be removed or scraped away

not only under the awning but also under the boats, on the deck-house,

in the passage on the starboard side, in the holds, and wherever else

it was necessary. In the after-hold there was much more ice now than

last winter, probably owing to the fact that we had kept the saloon

much warmer this winter than before.

In the saloon, the library, and the cabins we had a thorough "spring

cleaning." This was very badly needed, as the ceilings, walls, and

all the furniture and fittings, in the course of the long polar night,

had got covered with a thick, grimy-looking coating composed of soot,

grease, smoke, dust, and other ingredients.

I myself took in hand the painting of the saloon and of my own cabin,

which little by little had assumed the same dusky ground-tint as their

surroundings, and on the whole looked rather enigmatic. By dint of

much labor, and the application of a liberal supply of soap and water,

I succeeded in restoring them to something like their pristine beauty.

We finished our general clean-up on Whitsun-eve, June 1st, and thus

spent a really comfortable Whitsuntide, with butter-porridge for

supper and a few extra delicacies afterwards.

After Whitsuntide we again took in hand various things required in

view of the season, and of the possibility that the Fram might get

afloat in the course of the summer. On the great hummock were many

things I thought might be left there for the present--for instance,

the greater part of our dogs' food. The cases containing this were

piled up to four different heights so as to form a sloping roof off

which the water could easily run, and I had the whole covered over

with tarpaulin. The long-boat on the port side, which I proposed

to leave on the ice till the winter, was deposited in a safe place

about 50 yards from the ship, and provided with sails, rigging, oars,

and a full equipment, ready for any emergency.

The scraping away of the ice in the holds and on the half-deck was

finished on June 12th. We tried to cut the steam-pipe aft (the pipe

for rinse-water) out of the ice, but had to abandon the attempt. One

end of this pipe had been resting ever since last year on the ice,

and it was now so deeply frozen in that we could not release it. We

cut a hole all round it 4 feet deep, but the hole quickly filled with

water, so we left it to the summer heat to thaw the pipe loose.

So much water commenced to accumulate in the engine-room about this

time that we had to bale out considerable quantities--certainly 130

gallons per day. We at first thought that the water was produced by

the thawing of the ice on board, but it subsequently appeared that

it was mainly due to leakages, which probably arose from the fact

that ice forming in the different layers of the ship's skin forced

the planking somewhat apart.

The state of health continued excellent, and the doctor had virtually

nothing to do in his professional capacity. In the way of "casualties"

there were only a few of the most trifling nature, such as a frozen

big toe, a little skin-chafing here and there, a sore eye or two; that

was all. However, we led a very regular life, with the twenty-four

hours suitably distributed between work, exercise, and rest. We

slept well and fed well, and so we were very little concerned at the

fact that when being weighed on May 7th we were found to have lost

flesh. However, the falling off was not great; the aggregate weight

of the whole party was barely 8 pounds less than the month before.

There was, however, one complaint that we suffered from--a contagious

one, though not of a dangerous nature. It became a fashion, or,

if you like, a fashionable complaint, on board the Fram, to shave

one's head. It was said that an infallible method of producing a more

luxuriant growth of hair was to shave away the little hair that still

adorned the head of the patient. Juell first started it, and then a

regular mania set in, the others following his example one by one,

with the exception of myself and one or two more. Like a cautious

general, I first waited a while to see whether the expected harvest

sprouted on my comrades' shaven polls; and as the hair did not seem

to grow any stronger than before, I preferred a recipe ordered by the

doctor--viz., to wash the head daily with soft soap and subsequently

rub in an ointment. To make this treatment more effectual, however, and

let the ointment get at the scalp, I followed the example of the others

and shaved my head several times. Personally I do not believe that the

process did any good, but Pettersen was of a different opinion. "The

deuce take me," said he, one day afterwards when cutting my hair,

"if the captain hasn't got some jolly strong bristles on his crown

after that treatment."

The Seventeenth of May brought the finest weather that could be

imagined. A clear, bright sky, dazzling sunshine, 10° to 12° of

cold, and an almost perfect calm. The sun, which at this time of

the year never sets throughout the twenty-four hours, was already

high in the heavens, when at 8 A.M. we were awakened by the firing

of a gun, and by joyous strains of the organ. We jumped into our

clothes more speedily than usual, swallowed our breakfast, and with

the liveliest expectation prepared for what was in store; for the

"Festival Committee" had been very busy the previous day. Punctually

at 11 o'clock the various corporations assembled under their flags and

insignia, and were assigned their position in the grand procession. I

marched at the head with the Norwegian flag. Next came Scott-Hansen

with the Fram's pennant, and then followed Mogstad with the banner of

the Meteorological Department, richly bedecked with "cyclonic centres"

and "prospects of fair weather." He was seated on a box covered with

bearskin placed on a sledge drawn by seven dogs, the banner waving

behind him on a pole rigged as a mast. Amundsen was No. 4, bearing a

demonstration banner in favor of "the Pure Flag," and he was followed

by his esquire, Nordahl, on snow-shoes with a spear in his hand and a

rifle slung on his back. The flag showed on the red ground a picture

of an old Norwegian warrior breaking his spear over his knee, with the

inscription "Onward! Onward! [Fram! Fram!], ye Norseman! Your own flag

in your own land. What we do we do for Norway." Fifth in the procession

came the mate, with the Norwegian arms on a red background, and sixth

was Pettersen with the flag of the Mechanical Department. Last came

the "Band," represented by Bentzen with an accordion. The procession

was followed by the public dressed in their best--viz., the doctor,

Juell, and Henriksen in picturesque confusion.

To the waving of banners and strains of music the procession wended

its way past the corner of the University (viz., the Fram), down "Karl

Johan's Street" and "Church Street" (a road laid out by Scott-Hansen

for the occasion across the rift in front and the pressure-ridge),

past Engebret's (the depot on the ice), and then wheeled round to the

"Fortification Parade" [88] (viz., the top of the great hummock),

where it stopped and faced round with flags erect.

There I called for cheers in honor of the festive occasion, in

response to which there rose a ninefold hurrah from the densely

packed multitude.

At exactly 12 o'clock the official salute of the Seventeenth May was

fired from our big bow guns. Then came a splendid banquet; the doctor

had contributed a bottle of aqua vitæ, and every man had a bottle of

genuine Crown Malt Extract, from the "Royal Brewery" in Copenhagen.

When the roast was served Scott-Hansen proposed the health of our

dear ones at home and of our two absent comrades, who he hoped might

achieve the task they had set themselves and return home safely. This

toast was accompanied by a salute of two guns.

At 4 P.M. a great popular festival was held on the ice. The place was

prettily decorated with flags and other emblems, and the programme

offered a rich variety of entertainments. There was rope-dancing,

gymnastics, shooting at running hares, and many other items. The public

were in a highly festive mood throughout, and vigorously applauded the

artists in all their performances. After a supper which was not far

behind the dinner in excellence we gathered at night in the saloon

around a steaming bowl of punch. The doctor, amid loud applause,

proposed the health of the organizing committee, and I proposed the

Fram. After this we kept it up in the merriest and most cordial spirit

until far into the night.

CHAPTER II

JUNE 22 TO AUGUST 15, 1895

As spring advanced the disturbance in the ice increased, and new lanes

and pools were formed in every direction. At the same time there was

a daily increase in the number of aquatic animals and birds around us.

On the night of June 22d I was awakened by the watch, who told me that

there were whales in the lane on the starboard side. Every one hurried

on deck, and we now saw that some seven or eight female narwhals were

gambolling in the channel close upon us. We fired some shots at them,

but these did not seem to affect them. Later in the day I went after

them in the sealing-boat, but without getting within range. In order

to be able to give effectual chase, should they, as we hoped, pay

us a visit in the future, we made ready two harpoon-bladders and an

oak anchor, which we attached to the end of the harpoon line. Should

the whale, when harpooned, prove too strong for us, we would let go

the anchor and the bladders, and if the fates were not against us,

we might be successful.

We were quite anxious to try the new apparatus, and therefore kept a

sharp lookout for the whales. One or two were seen occasionally in the

channel, but they disappeared again so quickly that we had no time to

pursue them. On the evening of July 2d we had the prospect of a good

hunt. The lane swarmed with whales, and we quickly started out with the

boat in pursuit. But this time, too, they were so shy that we could

not get at them. One of them remained some time in a small channel,

which was so narrow that we could throw across it. We attempted to

steal on him along the edge, but as soon as we had got within a short

distance of him he took alarm, and swam out into the large channel,

where he remained rolling about, turning over on his back for some

four or five minutes at a time with his head above water, puffing

away, and positively jeering at us. When at length we had wearily

worked our way back again to the large channel, intending to assist

him a little in his performances--pop, away he went.

Some days later we again received a visit from a troupe of these

comedians in another channel newly formed in close proximity to the

vessel. Three of them had long, heavy tusks, which they showed high

above the water, and then used to scratch their female friends on the

back with. We immediately prepared ourselves with rifles and harpoons,

and ran towards the channel as fast as our legs would carry us. But

before we got there the beasts had fled. It was of no use trying to

get within range of these shy creatures, so, after that, as a rule,

we allowed them to remain unmolested.

Once, however, during the spring of 1896, we were near catching

a narwhal. I had been out fowling, and was just busily taking out

of the boat the birds I had shot, when suddenly a narwhal appeared

in the channel close to our usual landing-place, where the harpoon

with the line attached lay ready for immediate use. I quickly seized

the harpoon, but the coil of line was too short, and when I had got

this right the whale dived below the water, just as I was ready to

harpoon him.

An occasional large seal (Phoca barbata) also appeared at this time;

we chased them sometimes, but without success; they were too shy.

With the fowling our luck was better, and so early as June 7th we

shot so many black guillemots, gulls, fulmars, and little auks that

we partook on that day of our first meal of fresh meat during the

year. The flesh of these birds is not, as a rule, valued very much,

but we ate it with ravenous appetites, and found that it had an

excellent flavor--better than the tenderest young ptarmigan.

One day three gulls appeared, and settled down at some distance

from the vessel. Pettersen fired twice at them and missed, they

meanwhile resting calmly on the snow, and regarding him with intense

admiration. Finally they flew away, accompanied by sundry blessings

from the hunter, who was exasperated at his "mishap," as he called

it. The eye-witnesses of the bombardment had another idea of the

"mishap," and many were the jokes that rained down upon the fellow

when he returned empty-handed.

However, Pettersen soon became an ardent sportsman, and declared that

one of the first things he would do when he returned home would be to

buy a fowling-piece. He appeared to have some talent as a marksman,

though he had hardly ever fired a shot before he came on board the

Fram. Like all beginners, he had to put up with a good many misses

before he got so far as to hit his mark. But practice makes perfect;

and one fine day he began to win our respect as a marksman, for

he actually hit a bird on the wing. But then came a succession of

"mishaps" for some time, and he lost faith in his power of killing his

game on the wing, and sought less ambitious outlets for his skill. Long

afterwards the real cause of his many bad shots came to light. A wag,

who thought that Pettersen was doing too much execution among the game,

had quietly reloaded his cartridges, so that Pettersen had all the

time been shooting with salt instead of lead, and that, of course,

would make a little difference.

Besides the animals named, it appears that Greenland sharks are also

found in these latitudes. One day Henriksen went to remove the blubber

from some bearskins, which he had had hanging out in the channel for

a week or so; he found that the two smallest skins had been nearly

devoured, so that only a few shreds were left. It could hardly have

been any other animal than the Greenland shark which had played us

this trick. We put out a big hook with a piece of blubber on it,

to try if we could catch one of the thieves, but it was of no use.

One day in the beginning of August the mate and Mogstad were out

upon the ice trying to find the keel of the petroleum launch, which

had been forgotten. They said that they had seen fresh tracks of a

bear, which had been trotting about the great hummock. It was now

almost a year since we last had a bear in our neighborhood, and we

felt, therefore, much elated at the prospect of a welcome change

in our bill of fare. For a long time, however, we had nothing but

the prospect. True, Mogstad saw a bear at the great hummock, but,

as it was far off to begin with, and going rapidly farther, it was

not pursued. Almost half a year elapsed before another bear paid us

a visit--it was not till February 28, 1896.

As I said before, the Fram had, ever since the first week in May,

been fast embedded in a large floe of ice, which daily diminished

in extent. Cracks were constantly formed in all directions, and new

lanes were opened, often only to close up again in a few hours. When

the edges of the ice crashed against each other with their tremendous

force, all the projecting points were broken off, forming smaller

floes, and pushed over and under each other, or piled up into large or

small hummocks, which would collapse again when the pressure ceased,

and break off large floes in their fall. In consequence of these

repeated disturbances the cracks in our floe constantly increased,

particularly after a very violent pressure on July 14th, when rifts

and channels were formed right through the old pressure-ridge to port,

and close up to the side of the vessel, so that it appeared for a time

as if the Fram would soon slip down into the water. For the time being,

however, she remained in her old berth, but frequently veered round

to different points of the compass during all these disturbances in

the ice. The great hummock, which constantly increased its distance

from the vessel, also drifted very irregularly, so that it was at

one time abeam, at another right ahead.

On July 27th there was a disturbance in the ice such as we had

not experienced since we got fast. Wide lanes were formed in every

direction, and the floe upon which the smith's forge was placed danced

round in an incessant whirl, making us fear we might lose the whole

apparatus at any moment. Scott-Hansen and Bentzen, who were just about

to have a sail in the fresh breeze, undertook to transport the forge

and all its belongings to the floe on which we were lying. They took

two men to help them, and succeeded, with great difficulty, in saving

the things. At the same time there was a violent disturbance in the

water around the vessel. She turned round with the floe, so that

she rapidly came to head W. 1/2 S., instead of N.E. All hands were

busy getting back into the ship all the things which had been placed

upon the floes, and this was successfully accomplished, although it

was no trifling labor, and not without danger to the boats, owing to

the strong breeze and the violent working of the floes and blocks of

ice. The floe with the ruins of the forge was slowly bearing away in

the same direction as the great hummock, and served for some time as

a kind of beacon for us. Indeed, in the distance it looked like one,

crowned as it was on its summit with a dark skull-cap, a huge iron

kettle, which lay there bottom upward. The kettle was originally

bought by Trontheim, and came on board at Khabarova, together with

the dogs. He had used it on the trip through Siberia for cooking the

food for the dogs. We used to keep blubber and other dogs' food in

it. In the course of its long service the rust had eaten holes in

the bottom, and it was therefore cashiered, and thrown away upon the

pressure-ridge close to the smithy. It now served, as I have said,

as a beacon, and is perhaps to-day drifting about in the Polar Sea

in that capacity--unless it has been found and taken possession of

by some Eskimo housewife on the east coast of Greenland.

As the sun and mild weather brought their influence to bear upon the

surface of the ice and the snow, the vessel rose daily higher and

higher above the ice, so that by July 23d we had three and a half

planks of the greenheart ice-hide clear on the port side and ten

planks to starboard. In the evening of August 8th our floe cracked

on the port, and the Fram altered her list from 7° to port to 1.5°

starboard side, with respectively four and two planks of the ice-hide

clear, and eleven bow-irons clear forward.

I feared that the small floe in which we were now embedded might drift

off down the channel if the ice slackened any more, and I therefore

ordered the mate to moor the vessel to the main flow, where many of

our things were stored. The order, however, was not quickly enough

executed, and when I came on deck half an hour later the Fram was

already drifting down through the channel. All hands were called up

immediately, and with our united strength we succeeded in hauling

the vessel up to the floe again and mooring her securely.

As we were desirous of getting the Fram quite clear of the ice-bed

in which she had been lying so long, I determined to try blasting

her loose. The next day, therefore, August 9th, at 7.30 P.M., we

fired a mine of about 7 pounds of gunpowder, placed under the floe 6

feet from the stern of the vessel. There was a violent shock in the

vessel when the mine exploded, but the ice was apparently unbroken. A

lively discussion arose touching the question of blasting. The

majority believed that the mine was not powerful enough; one even

maintained that the quantity of gunpowder used should have been 40

or 50 pounds. But just as we were in the heat of the debate the floe

suddenly burst. Big lumps of ice from below the ship came driving up

through the openings: the Fram gave a great heave with her stern,

started forward and began to roll heavily, as if to shake off the

fetters of ice, and then plunged with a great splash out into the

water. The way on her was so strong that one of the bow hawsers parted,

but otherwise the launch went so smoothly that no ship-builder could

have wished it better. We moored the stern to the solid edge of ice

by means of ice-anchors, which we had recently forged for this purpose.

Scott-Hansen and Pettersen, however, were very near getting a cold

bath. Having laid the mine under the floe, they placed themselves

abaft with the "pram," [89] in order to haul in the string of the

fuse. When the floe burst, and the Fram plunged, and the remainder of

the floe capsized as soon as it became free of its 600 tons' burden,

the two men in the boat were in no pleasant predicament right in the

midst of the dangerous maelstrom of waves and pieces of ice; their

faces, especially Pettersen's, were worth seeing while the boat was

dancing about with them in the caldron.

The vessel now had a slight list to starboard (0.75°), and floated

considerably lighter upon the water than before, as three oak planks

were clear to starboard, and somewhat more to port, with nine bow-irons

clear forward. So far as we could see, her hull had suffered no damage

whatever, either from the many and occasionally violent pressures to

which she had been subjected, or from the recent launching.

The only fault about the vessel was that she still leaked a little,

rendering it necessary to use the pumps frequently. For a short time,

indeed, she was nearly tight, which made us inclined to believe that

the leakage must be above the water-line, but we soon found we were

in error about this, when she began to make more water than ever.

For the rest, she was lying very well now, with the port side along an

even and rather low edge of ice, and with an open channel to starboard;

the channel soon closed up, but still left a small opening, about

200 yards long and 120 yards wide. I only wished that winter would

soon come, so that we might freeze securely into this favorable

position. But it was too early in the year, and there was too much

disturbance in the ice to allow of that. We had still many a tussle

to get through before the Fram settled in her last winter haven.

Our drift westward in the latter half of June and the greater

part of July was, on the whole, satisfactory. I give the following

observations:

Date Latitude Longitude Direction

° ' ° ' of Wind

June 22d 84 32 80 58 N.

June 27th 84 44 79 35 N. by E.

June 29th 84 33 79 50 E.N.E.

July 5th 84 48 75 3 S.E.

July 7th 84 48 74 7 W.S.W.

July 12th 84 41 76 20 W.S.W.

July 22d 84 36 72 56 N.N.W.

July 27th 84 29 73 49 S.W. by S.

July 31st 84 27 76 10 S.W.

August 8th 84 38 77 36 N.W.

August 22d 84 9 78 47 S.W.

August 25th 84 17 79 2 E. by N.

September 2d 84 47 77 17 S.E.

September 6th 84 43 79 52 S.W.

As will be seen from the above, there were comparatively small

deviations towards the south and the north in the line of the drift,

whereas the deviations to east and west were much greater.

From June 22d to the 29th it bore rapidly westward, then back some

distance in the beginning of July; again for a couple of days quickly

towards the west, and then a rapid return till July 12th. From this

day until the 22d we again drifted well to the west, to 72° 56', but

from that time the backward drift predominated, placing us at 79° 52'

on September 6th, or about the same longitude as we started from on

June 29th.

During this period the weather was, on the whole, fair and

mild. Occasionally we had some bad weather, with drift-snow and sleet,

compelling us to stay indoors. However, the bad weather did not worry

us much; on the contrary, we looked rather eagerly for changes in

the weather, especially if they revived our hopes of a good drift

westward, with a prospect of soon getting out of our prison. It must

not be understood that we dreaded another winter in the ice before

getting home. We had provisions enough, and everything else needful

to get over some two or three polar winters, if necessary, and we had

a ship in which we all placed the fullest confidence, in view of the

many tests she had been put to. We were all sound and healthy, and had

learned to stick ever closer to one another for better and for worse.

With regard to Nansen and Johansen, hardly any of us entertained

serious fears; however dangerous their trip was, we were not afraid

that they would succumb to their hardships on the way, and be

prevented from reaching Franz Josef Land, and thence getting back

to Norway before the year was out. On the contrary, we rejoiced at

the thought that they would soon be home, telling our friends that

we were getting on all right, and that there was every prospect of

our return in the autumn of 1896. It is no wonder, however, that we

were impatient, and that both body and soul suffered when the drift

was slow, or when a protracted contrary wind and back-drift seemed

to make it highly improbable that we should be able to reach home by

the time we were expected.

Furthermore, the most important part of our mission was in a way

accomplished. There was hardly any prospect that the drift would

carry us much farther northward than we were now, and whatever

could be done to explore the regions to the north would be done by

Nansen and Johansen. It was our object, therefore, in compliance

with the instructions from Dr. Nansen, to make for open water and

home by the shortest way and in the safest manner, doing, however,

everything within our power to carry home with us the best possible

scientific results. These results, to judge from our experience up to

this point, were almost a foregone conclusion--to wit, that the Polar

Sea retained its character almost unchanged as we drifted westward,

showing the same depths, the same conditions of ice and currents,

and the same temperatures. No islands, rocks, shoals, and, still

less, no mainland, appeared in the neighborhood of our frequently

irregular course; wherever we looked there was the same monotonous

and desolate plain of more or less rugged ice, holding us firmly, and

carrying us willy-nilly along with it. Our scientific observations were

continued uninterruptedly, as regularly and accurately as possible, and

comprised, besides the usual meteorological observations, soundings,

measurement of the thickness of the ice, longitude and latitude,

taking the temperature of the sea at various depths, determining its

salinity, collecting specimens of the fauna of the sea, magnetic and

electrical observations, and so forth.

CHAPTER III

AUGUST 15 TO JANUARY 1, 1896

With the rise in the temperature the snow surface became daily worse,

so that it was seldom fit for snow-shoeing; even with "truger" [90]

on it was most laborious to get along, for the snow was so soft

that we sank in up to our knees. Now and then for an odd day or so

the surface would be fit, even in the month of July, and we took

these opportunities of making short excursions for shooting and the

like. Then the surface would be as bad as ever again, and one day when

I had to go out on the ice to fetch a fulmar which had been wounded,

the snow was so soft that I constantly sank in up to my waist. Before I

could reach the bird the whole pack of dogs came tearing by, got hold

of it, and killed it. One of the dogs seized the bird in his mouth,

and then there was a wild race between it and the others. At last

the whole pack turned back towards the lane in the ice again, and I

watched my opportunity and snatched the bird from them. I had paid

pretty dearly for my booty, all spent and dripping with perspiration

as I was from plodding through that bottomless morass of snow.

Our chief occupation was still the work at our sledges and kayaks. The

sledges, which were all brought on board from the great hummock

where they had lain all the winter, were repaired and fitted with

runners. By July 16th they were all in good order--eight hand-sledges

and two dog-sledges.

The kayaks, upon which we had long been engaged, were finished

about the same time. We had now in all five double and one single

kayak. Of these I myself made one, the single kayak, which weighed 32

pounds. All of them were tested in the channel, and proved sound and

watertight. Both the kayaks and the sledges were hoisted on the davits,

so that they could be let down at a moment's notice in case of need.

The petroleum launch, which was of no use to us as it was, but would

afford good materials for runners and other things, was brought from

the great hummock and taken to pieces. It was built of choice elm,

and a couple of planks were immediately used for runners to those of

the sledges, which, for lack of material, were as yet unprovided with

these appliances.

The medicine-chest, which had also lain in depot at the great hummock,

was fetched and stowed away in one of the long-boats, which had been

placed on the pressure-ridge hard by the ship. The contents had taken

no harm, and nothing had burst with the frost, although there were

several medicines in the chest which contained no more than 10 per

cent. of alcohol.

At that time we were also busy selecting and weighing provisions and

stores for eleven men for a seventy days' sledging expedition and

a six months' sojourn on the ice. The kinds of provisions and their

weight will be seen from the accompanying table:

Seventy Days' Sledge Provisions for Eleven Men

Pounds

Cadbury's chocolate, 5 boxes of 48 pounds 240

Meat chocolate 25

Wheaten bread, 16 boxes of 44 pounds 704

Danish butter, 12 tins of 28 pounds 336

Lime-juice tablets 2

Fish flour (Professor Våge's) 50

Viking potatoes, 3 tins of 26 pounds 78

Knorr's pea-soup 5

,, lentil-soup 5

,, bean-soup 5

Bovril, 2 boxes 104

Vril-food, 1 box 48

Oatmeal, 1 box 80

Serin powder, 1 box 50

Aleuronate bread, 5 boxes of 50 pounds 250

Pemmican, 6 boxes 340

,, 7 sacks 592

Liver, 1 sack 102

----

Total 3016

Besides these we took salt, pepper, and mustard.

Provisions for Eleven Men During a Six Months' Stay

on the Ice

Pounds

Roast and boiled beef, 14 tins of 72 pounds 1008

Minced collops, 3 tins of 48 pounds 144

Corned beef, 3 tins of 84 pounds 252

Compressed ham, 3 tins of 84 pounds 252

Corned mutton, 17 tins of 6 pounds 102

Bread, 37 tins of 50 pounds 1850

Knorr's soups, various, 2 tins of 56 1/2 pounds 113

Vegetables: white cabbage, julienne, pot-herbs 60

Flour, sugar, 3 cases of 40 pounds 120

Oatmeal, 4 cases of 80 pounds 320

Groats, 4 cases of 80 pounds 320

Cranberry, 2 cases of 10 pounds 20

Margarine, 20 jars of 28 pounds 560

Lunch tongue, 1 case 20

Danish butter, 2 cases 336

Stearine candles, 5 cases 200

Preserved fish, 1 tin 22

Macaroni, 1 case 50

Viking potatoes, 4 cases 208

Våge's fish flour, 2 cases 200

Frame-food jelly, 1 jar 190

Marmalade jelly, 1 jar 54

Lime-juice jelly, 1 jar 54

Cadbury's chocolate, 3 cases 144

Lactoserin cocoa, 1 case 18

Milk, 10 cases of 48 tins 480

Tea, 1 case 20

English pemmican, 13 cases 756

Danish pemmican, 1 case 68

Dried liver patties, 3 cases 204

Vril-food, 5 cases 208

Besides these, 2 tins of salt, 1 tin of mustard, and 1 tin of pepper.

When all the stores were ready and packed, they were provisionally

stowed at certain fixed points on deck, under the awning forward. I

did not want them taken out on the ice until later in the year, or

until circumstances rendered it necessary. We had still abundance of

coal--about 100 tons. I considered that 20 tons would be about enough

for six months' consumption on the ice. With that quantity, therefore,

we filled butts, casks, and sacks, and took it out on the ice, together

with 1400 pounds of tinned potatoes, about 45 gallons of petroleum,

about 80 gallons of gas-oil, and about 34 gallons of coal-oil.

As the ship was still deeply laden, I wished to lighten her as much as

possible, if only it could be managed without exposing to risk any of

the stores which had to be unloaded. After the windmill was worn out

and taken away we had, of course, no use for the battery and dynamo,

so we took the whole concern to pieces and packed it up, with lamps,

globes, and everything belonging to it. The same was done with the

petroleum motor. The "horse-mill" was also taken down and put out on

the ice, with a lot of heavy materials. One long-boat had been put out

earlier, and now we took the other down from the davits and took it up

to the great hummock. But as the hummock shortly afterwards drifted a

good way off from us, the boat, with everything else that lay there,

was brought back again and placed upon the great ice-floe to which we

were moored--our "estate," as we used to call it. On top of the davits,

and right aft to the half-deck, we ran a platform of planks, on which

the sledges, kayaks, and other things were to be laid up in the winter.

On July 22d we continued our deep-sea soundings, taking two on that

day, the first to 1354 fathoms (2500 metres) and the second to 1625

fathoms (3000 metres), without touching bottom either time. In order

to make sure that the lead should sink, we lowered away the line

very slowly, so that it took two hours and a quarter to reach a depth

of 3000 metres. On the 23d we again took two soundings, one of 1840

fathoms (3400 metres), without finding bottom, and then one in which

we found bottom at 2056 fathoms (3800 metres). It took two hours

and a half to lower the lead to the latter depth. Finally, on July

24th we again took a sounding of 3600 metres without finding bottom,

and therefore concluded the depth to be from 3700 to 3800 metres.

On July 7th the doctor rowed out in the "pram" in search of algæ,

but came back empty-handed. There were remarkably few algæ to be

found this summer, nor did there seem to be so much animal life in

the water as there had been the year before.

For a few days after she got loose, the Fram lay in a very good

position in the pool; but during the night of August 14th a high block

of ice came floating down the lane, which had now widened a little,

and jammed itself between the ship's side and the farther edge of

the pool, which it thus entirely blocked. As we did not like having

this uncomfortable and dangerous colossus close at our side, in case

we should remain at the same spot throughout the autumn and winter,

we determined to blast it away. Scott-Hansen and Nordahl at once took

this in hand, and accomplished the task after several days' labor.

On Saturday afternoon, August 17th, a pretty strong ice-pressure

suddenly set in around us. In the course of a few minutes the Fram was

lifted 22 inches by the stern, and 14 inches by the bow. In stately

fashion, with no noise, and without heeling over in the least, the

heavy vessel was swiftly and lightly raised, as if she had been a

feather--a spectacle at once impressive and reassuring.

The next day the ice slackened a little again, and the ship was

once more afloat. So it lay quietly until the morning of the 21st,

when another strong pressure began. The ship now lay in a very

awkward position, with a high hummock on each side, which gripped

her amidships for a space of about 9 yards, and screwed her up 6 or

8 inches. But the pressure ended in half an hour or so, and the Fram

sank again into her former berth.

When there were symptoms of pressure we always tried to warp the ship

as far away as possible from the threatening point, and occasionally

we succeeded. But during the stormy weather, with southerly winds,

which prevailed at this time, it was often quite impossible to get

her to budge; for she offered a great surface to the wind, with

her heavy rigging and the high awning forward. Our united forces

were often unable to move her an inch, and ice-anchors, moorings,

and warping-cables were perpetually breaking.

At last, on August 22d, we succeeded in warping the ship along a bit,

so that we might hope to escape pressure if the ice should again begin

to pinch. As the ice soon after slackened a good deal, and became

more broken than before, we some days later made another attempt to

haul her a little farther, but had soon to give it up; there was not

enough space between the two great floes on either hand of us. We

now lay at the same spot until September 2d, with half a gale blowing

continually from the southwest, and with heavy rain now and then. On

the evening of August 30th, for instance, we had a violent rain-storm,

which loosened the ice-coating of the rigging and made a frightful

racket as it brought the pieces of ice clattering down upon the deck,

the deck-house, and the awning.

Our "estate" was very thoroughly ploughed, harrowed, and drained

at this time by wind, rain, pressure, and other such doughty

laborers. Then came the tiresome business of moving the things out

from the ship, which involved the cutting up and parcelling out of

almost the whole "estate," so that what was left open to us was scanty

and cramped enough.

Thus reduced, the "estate" now formed an approximately oblong floe,

with its greatest length from east to west, and surrounded on all

sides by more or less open rifts and lanes. The Fram lay moored to

the north side close to the northeast point, with her bow heading

west. Immediately astern of her, and separated from the point only by

a narrow lane, lay a large floe, upon which was stowed, among other

things, a part of our provision of coal. Far off to the westward the

great hummock still lay drifting.

While the other sides of the "estate" were pretty nearly straight,

the east side formed a concave arc or bay, which offered an excellent

winter berth for the Fram. But there was no possibility of getting the

ship into it so long as the channel between the "estate" and the floe

to eastward remained closed. Late in the afternoon of September 2d

the ice at last slackened so much that we could make an attempt. By

the help of our tackle we managed to get her warped a ship's length

eastward, but it was impossible for the moment to get her any farther,

as the new ice was already pretty thick (the night temperature was

-5° C.), and also a good deal packed. Nor was it any use to bring

the ice-saw into play and cut a channel, for the slush was so deep

that we could not shove the fragments aside or under each other.

The next day began with half a gale from the southeast and rain; but at

6 o'clock the wind moderated and veered to the south, and at 8 o'clock

the ice around the lane began to slacken a good deal. As there was

now more room, we made good progress with cutting our way through the

new ice, and before midday we had got the Fram hauled into the bay and

moored in the winter harbor which we all hoped might prove her last.

When Nansen and Johansen set out, they left seven dogs behind, the

bitch "Sussi" and the six youngest puppies: "Kobben," "Snadden,"

"Bella," "Skvint," "Axel," and "Boris." On April 25th "Sussi" gave

birth to twelve puppies. We had made a cozy little kennel for her

on deck, lining it with reindeer-skin. Pettersen came down in the

morning, and told us that "Sussi" was running round whining and

howling. Mogstad and I went up and shut her into the kennel, where

she at once gave birth to a puppy. When the afternoon came, and we

saw that more and more citizens were being added to our community,

we feared that the mother would not be able to warm all her litter,

and consequently removed the whole family into the saloon. All

the puppies were large and handsome, most of them quite white, and

looking as though they would turn out regular little "bjelkier," as

the Samoyedes call all white dogs. They grew and throve excellently

as saloon passengers, and were petted and spoiled by every one. They

made their home in the saloon for a month, and then we transferred

them to the above-mentioned kennel on deck. After they had been up

there for some weeks it appeared as though they had suddenly stopped

growing, although they were constantly well fed with raw bear's-flesh,

milk, and the broken meat from our table. About the second week of

August two of the puppies died of convulsions. The doctor managed to

save a third by means of warm baths and careful nursing. At the end

of the month another of them was seized with convulsions and died,

although it, too, was treated with warm baths and comfortably housed,

first in the saloon, and afterwards in the work-room.

In the beginning of September, when the frequent rain made things

very moist and uncomfortable in the kennel and on deck, we built a

kennel out on the ice with a tarpaulin roof and a floor of planks,

with plenty of shavings spread over them. While it was being built we

let the whole pack of dogs out upon the ice; but after playing for half

an hour the puppies, one after another, began to have convulsions. The

attacks passed quickly over, however. We drenched them with soap and

water, and then settled them in their new abode.

As the puppies grew older we had to keep a sharp watch upon them

when we let them out upon the ice. They romped and gambolled with

such ungovernable glee that it often happened that one or other of

them plumped into the water, and had to be laboriously fished out

again by the Master of the Hounds for the time being or whoever else

happened to be at hand. Moreover, they soon acquired a taste for

longer excursions, and followed our tracks far over the ice.

One day the doctor and I were out photographing. At a considerable

distance from the ship we came upon a large pool of fresh water,

and took a little rest upon its inviting, mirror-like ice. While we

lay there chatting at our ease, we saw "Kobben" coming after us. As

soon as he caught sight of us, he stopped and stood wondering what

strange creatures we could be. Then we began to creep on all-fours

towards him; and the moment we did so, "Kobben" found his legs to some

purpose. He set off homeward as though he were running for dear life;

and even when we got back to the ship and several other puppies met

us and knew us, the poor creature was still so panic-stricken that

it was a good while before he ventured to come near us.

On September 28th we again lost one of the puppies. It was seized

with convulsions, and lay whining and howling all day. As the evening

advanced, and it became paralyzed along one side, there was no hope

of saving it, so we put an end to its misery. It was pitiful to see

how these pretty little creatures suffered when the convulsions came

upon them.

On October 9th "Skvint" gave birth to puppies, but as so young an

animal could not have brought them up, especially in such a cold

season, we allowed her to keep only one of them as an experiment;

the others were at once killed. A week later "Sussi" produced a second

litter, two he-dogs and nine she-dogs. We let her keep the two males

and one of the females.

It proved inadvisable to have both the mothers with their families

in the same kennel. If one of the mothers went out for a moment, the

other at once took all the puppies into her keeping, and then there

was a battle royal when the first one returned and wanted to reclaim

her property. Something of this sort had, no doubt, occurred one

night in the case of "Skvint," whom Henriksen found in the morning

lying at the door of the kennel frozen so fast to the ice that it

cost us a good deal of trouble to get her loose again. She must have

had anything but a pleasant night--the thermometer had been down to

-33° C. (-27.4° Fahr.)--and her tail was frozen fast to one of her

hind-legs, so that we had to take her down into the saloon to get her

thawed. To obviate such misadventures for the future I had a detached

villa built for her where she could be at peace with her child.

One evening, when Mogstad was housing the puppies for the night,

two of them were missing. Henriksen and I at once set off with

lanterns and guns to hunt for them. We thought that there had been

a bear in the neighborhood, as we had heard a great deal of barking

earlier in the day out upon the ice to the east of the ship; but

we could find no tracks. After supper we set out again, five of us,

all carrying lanterns. After an hour's search along the lanes and up

in the pressure-ridges we at last found the puppies on the other side

of a new lane. Although the new ice on the lane was strong enough to

bear them, they were so terrified after having been in the water that

they dared not come over to us, and we had to make a long detour to

get hold of them.

In the middle of December we took the youngest puppies on board, as

they had now grown so big, and ran away if they were not very closely

watched. The gangway was left open at night so that the mothers could

come into them from the ice whenever they wanted to.

In respect to temper, there was a great difference between the

generation of dogs we had originally taken on board and those we now

had. While the former were great fighters, perpetually at feud with

each other, and often to the death, the latter were exceedingly quiet

and well-behaved, although wild and fierce enough when it came to

chasing a bear. Now and then there would be a little squabble among

them, but this was rare. "Axel" was the worst of them. Shortly before

Christmas he all of a sudden made a fierce attack upon the unoffending

"Kobben," against whom he bore a grudge. But he got the rope's-end

for supper several times, and that improved his manners amazingly.

During the first half of September the weather was very unsettled,

with prevailing westerly and southwesterly winds, a good deal of rain

and snow, especially rain, and frequent disturbance in the ice. The

frost at night, which sometimes reached 10° or 11°, soon made the new

ice strong enough to bear a man, except just at the stern of the ship,

where all the slops were thrown out. Here the ice was much broken

up, and formed a thick slush, the surface of which was frozen over,

but so thinly that it would not bear much weight. Thus it happened

one day that three men got a ducking, one after another, at the

same treacherous spot. The first was Pettersen. He had to go round

the stern to look to the log-line which hung from the ship's side to

port; but before he got so far, down he went through the ice. Shortly

after the same thing happened to Nordahl, and half an hour later it

was Bentzen's turn to plump in. He plunged right up to his neck, but

at once bobbed up again like a cork, and scrambled gallantly up on

to the edge of the ice without a moment's delay. The observation of

the log-line had to be postponed, while a grand changing and drying

of clothes took place on board.

On September 15th the ice slackened so much that there was quite a

little sea between us and the great hummock. The following day the

ice was still so much disturbed that we had to think seriously of

fetching back the things which still lay there. About midday I took

a walk over towards the hummock to find out a suitable transport

path, and discovered an excellent one. But some hours later, when I

set off with men and sledges to fetch back the things, so many lanes

had opened around the "estate" that we had to give up the attempt for

that day. During the whole of September, and well on in October, there

was almost incessant disturbance in the ice. New lanes opened on all

sides, some close to the ship, and there were frequent pressures. The

winter harbor we had found proved an excellent one. There was very

little disturbance in the bay where the Fram was moored, thanks to

the new ice we here had around us, of which the pressure was quite

inconsiderable. It was quickly broken up, and the fragments forced

over or under each other, while the two solid points of the bay bore

the brunt of the attacks. Once or twice it seemed as though the Fram

would be afloat again before the winter finally chained her in its

icy fetters. On October 25th, for instance, it slackened so much in

the lane nearest us that the ship lay free from the stern right to the

fore-chains; but soon the ice packed together again, so that she was

once more frozen quite fast. The hardest pressure occurred on October

26th and 27th, but the ship was not very severely attacked. Pressure,

however, is more unpleasant in winter, on account of the deafening

noise it makes when the ice is hurled against the ship's side. It was

quite different in summer, when the ice is more tough and elastic,

and the pressure goes on calmly and quietly.

After November 1st a more peaceful period set in; the pressures almost

entirely ceased, the cold increased, the wind remained easterly,

and we drifted at a steady rate northward and westward for the rest

of the year.

During the autumn the drift had put our patience to a severe

test. Owing to the prevailing westerly winds it bore steadily eastward,

and day after day we looked in vain for a change. The only thing that

kept our spirits up was the knowledge that, if we were going backward,

it was slowly, sometimes very slowly, indeed. Even several days of

westerly wind did not take us so far to the east but that a day or

two of favorable wind would enable us to make up what we had lost,

with something to boot.

September 22d was the second anniversary of our being frozen in, and

the event was celebrated with a little festivity in the evening. We

had reason to be satisfied with the second year's drift, since we

had advanced nearly double as far as during the first year, and,

if this continued, there could scarcely be any doubt that we should

get clear of the ice in the autumn of 1896.

As will be seen from the following table, September 22d also brought

us a marked change for the better. On that day the winter drift set

in for good, and lasted without intermission through the remainder

of the year, so that between that day and the second week in January

we drifted from 82° 5' to 41° 41' east longitude.

Date Latitude Longitude Direction

of Wind

° ' ° '

September 6th, 1895 84 43 79 52 S.W.

September 11th, 1895 84 59 78 15 E.

September 22d, 1895 85 2 82 5 Calm.

October 9th, 1895 85 4 79 30 E.

October 19th, 1895 85 45 78 21 E. to N.

October 25th, 1895 85 46 73 25 N.E.

October 30th, 1895 85 46 70 50 N.N.W.

November 8th, 1895 85 41 65 2 E.

November 15th, 1895 85 55.5 66 31 E.N.E.

November 25th, 1895 85 47.5 62 56 N.E. to N.

December 1st, 1895 85 28 58 45 E.

December 7th, 1895 85 26 54 40 N.E.

December 14th, 1895 85 24 50 2 Calm.

December 21st, 1895 85 15 47 56 N.E.

December 28th, 1895 85 24 48 22 N.W.

January 9th, 1896 84 57 41 41 N.

On October 11th we hauled up the log-line and cut a new hole for it

in the ice right astern. Hitherto the log had had only 100 metres

(54 fathoms) of line; now we gave it 300 metres (162 fathoms).

After the middle of September the cold steadily increased, as the

following observations will show:

Date Minimum Temperature

Centigrade Fahrenheit

° °

September 18th -12.5 +9.6

September 26th -24.0 -11.2

October 19th -30.0 -22.0

November 5th -32.2 -25.8

November 9th -38.3 -36.8

November 22d -43.6 -46.4

December 31st -44.6 -48.2

The weather was, as a rule, fine during the last three months of 1895,

with clear air and light breezes; only now and then (for example, on

October 29th, and November 11th, 26th, and 27th) the wind freshened

to half a gale, with a velocity of as much as 48 feet per second.

In the beginning of September we found that the Fram was drawing more

and more water, so that we had a stiff job every day to pump and bale

her empty. But from the 23d onward the leakage steadily declined,

and about the second week of October the engine-room was quite

water-tight. It still leaked a little, however, in the main hold;

but soon the leak ceased here also, the water having frozen in the

ship's side. For the rest, we employed our time in all sorts of work

about the ship, cutting up and removing ice in the hold, cleaning,

putting things in order, etc.

Not until September 23d did the state of the ice permit us to carry out

our intention of fetching back the things from the great hummock. The

surface was that day excellent for sledges with German-silver runners;

wooden runners, on the other hand, went rather heavily. We had also

done some road-making here and there, so that the conveyance of the

goods went on easily and rapidly. We brought back to the ship, in all,

thirty-six boxes of dog biscuits, and four barrels of petroleum. Next

day we brought all that was left, and stacked it on the ice close to

the ship.

On September 16th Scott-Hansen and Nordahl set about preparations

for building a proper house for their magnetic observations. Their

building material consisted of great blocks of new ice, which they

piled upon sledges and drove with the aid of the dogs to the site they

had chosen. Except for one or two trial trips which Scott-Hansen had

previously made with the dogs, this was the first time they had been

employed as draught-animals. They drew well, and the carting went

excellently. The house was built entirely of hewn blocks of ice,

which were ranged above each other with an inward slant, so that

when finished it formed a compact circular dome of ice, in form and

appearance not unlike a Finn tent. A covered passage of ice led into

the house, with a wooden flap for a door.

When this observatory was finished, Scott-Hansen gave a house-warming,

the hut being magnificently decorated for the occasion. It was

furnished with a sofa, and with arm-chairs covered with bear and

reindeer skins. The pedestal in the middle of the floor, on which the

magnetic instruments were to be established, was covered with a flag,

and an ice-floe served as a table. On the table stood a lamp with

a red shade, and along the walls were fixed a number of red paper

lanterns. The effect was quite festal, and we all sat round the room

in the highest of spirits. Our amiable host addressed little humorous

speeches to every one. Pettersen expressed the wish that this might

be the last ice-hut Scott-Hansen should build on this trip, and that

we might all be home again this time next autumn, and "none the worse

for it all." Pettersen's artless little address was received with

frantic enthusiasm.

For the rest, Pettersen had just about this time entered upon a

new office, having from September 10th onward undertaken the whole

charge of Juell's former domain, the galley, a department to which he

gave his whole heart, and in which his performances denoted entire

satisfaction to every one. The only branch of the culinary art

with which he would have nothing to do was the baking of Christmas

cakes. This Juell himself had to attend to when the time came.

When winter set in we built ourselves a new smithy in the place

of the one which drifted off on July 27th. It was constructed on

the pressure-ridge where the boats and part of the stores from the

great hummock had been placed. Its plan was very much like that of the

former smithy. We first hollowed out a cavity of sufficient size in the

pressure-ridge, and then roofed it over with blocks of ice and snow.

As the year waned, and the winter night impended, all the sea

animals and birds of passage which had swarmed around us and awakened

our longings during the short summer deserted us one by one. They

set off for the south, towards sunshine and light and hospitable

shores, while we lay there in the ice and darkness for yet another

winter. On September 6th we saw the last narwhals gambolling in the

lanes around the ship, and a few days later the last flock of skuas

(Lestris parasiticus) took their departure. The sun moves quickly in

these latitudes from the first day that he peers over the horizon in

the south till he circles round the heavens all day and all night;

but still quicker do his movements seem when he is on the downward

path in autumn. Before you know where you are he has disappeared,

and the crushing darkness of the Arctic night surrounds you once more.

On September 12th we should have seen the midnight sun for the last

time if it had been clear; and no later than October 8th we caught

the last glimpse of the sun's rim at midday. Thus we plunged into

the longest Arctic night any human beings have yet lived through, in

about 85° north latitude. Henceforth there was nothing that could for

a moment be called daylight, and by October 26th there was scarcely

any perceptible difference between day and night.

Whenever time permitted and the surface was at all favorable we

wandered about on snow-shoes in the neighborhood of the ship, either

singly or several together. On October 7th, when all of us were out

snow-shoeing in the morning, the mate found a log of drift-wood 7

feet long and 7 inches thick. Part of the root was still attached

to the trunk. The mate and I went out in the afternoon and brought

it in on a hand-sledge. No doubt it had grown in one of the Siberian

forests, had been swept away by a flood or by the current of a river,

and carried out to sea to be conveyed hither by the drift-ice.

Besides snow-shoeing, we also took frequent walks on the ice, and on

November 20th I gave orders that every man should take two hours'

exercise a day in the fresh air. I myself was very fond of these

walks, which freshened up both soul and body, and I often wandered

backward and forward on the ice four or five hours a day--as a rule,

two hours in the morning and two in the afternoon.

On October 8th Scott-Hansen and Mogstad made an experiment in dragging

sledges with 230 pounds of freight. They started at half-past nine

and returned at five in the afternoon, after having been about four

miles from the ship, and traversed pretty heavy country.

We did not believe, indeed, that the Fram ran the slightest risk of

being crushed in any ice-pressure; but it was obviously possible,

or at least conceivable, so that it was our duty to be prepared for

all contingencies. Accordingly we devoted much labor and care to

securing ourselves against being taken by surprise.

At the end of October we established a new depot on the ice consisting

of provisions for six months, with a full equipment of sledges,

kayaks, snow-shoes, etc. The provisions were divided into five

different piles, and stacked so that the boxes in each pile formed an

arch. Thus stored, not more than two cases could well be lost even if

the worst happened, and the ice split up right under the heap. The

provisions consisted partly of pemmican, as may be seen by the list

quoted--a very nutritious article of diet, which makes an excellent

sort of Irish stew (lobscouse). With 200 grammes of pemmican, 100

grammes of bread, and 120 grammes of potatoes you can make a very

satisfying and palatable dish.

On November 28th we passed the sixtieth degree of longitude, and

celebrated the occasion by a little feast. The saloon was decorated

with flags, and a rather more sumptuous dinner than usual was served,

with coffee after it, while supper was followed by a dessert of fruits

and preserves. This meridian passes near Cape Fligely in Franz Josef

Land, and through Khabarova, where we two years ago had bidden farewell

to the last faint traces of civilization. So it seemed as though we

really felt ourselves nearer the world and life.