to pass the winter in the ice. Nansen knew that he must secure some
game, for his provisions would not last through the winter; therefore
he and Johansen pushed on south as fast as they could, and at last
shot a seal and a bear. Only two dogs were left, and at length they
too had to be shot. One dog was Nansen’s favorite, and the other was
Johansen’s. Nansen took Johansen’s dog behind a hummock, and Johansen
did the same with Nansen’s. Then both guns were fired together and the
faithful dogs were dead. This was the hardest thing these two men had
to do during the journey. When they met again, they felt so sad that
neither of them could speak.
One day, while looking through the telescope, Nansen saw land in the
distance. The two men hastened toward it, and for the first time in two
years they felt the naked earth beneath their feet. It was summer, and
seals, birds, and flowers were all about them. In front lay the open
sea, and Nansen thought he might sail on, and perhaps reach home. But
he was disappointed, for after sailing a short distance, he again found
ice and was obliged to return.
It was now certain that Nansen and Johansen would have to pass the
winter on the island, and they began their preparations for it. They
built a hut of stone, and stretched walrus hides over the roof and
floor. Fortunately game was plenty, so that they shot many seals and
walruses. The blubber of the walrus was a favorite article of diet,
for in cold countries men long for fatty food. It was so cold that
often Nansen and Johansen had to sleep in the same bag in order to keep
warm. Sometimes they drew pieces of blubber out of the lamp and ate
them. These favorite dainties they called biscuit. The walrus hides
attracted the bears and foxes to the hut, so that often during the
winter the men succeeded in securing fresh meat.
The winter was a long and weary one. Though Christmas, 1895, found
them rather low-spirited, they made up their minds to observe the day.
Their celebration consisted of reversing their shirts, and treating
themselves to bread and chocolate. They broke up their camp in the
spring (May, 1896), and started southward by water.
During this trip Nansen nearly lost his life. The men left their kayaks
one day fastened to the edge of the ice, while they went to the top
of a hummock to look around. Presently Johansen shouted, “The kayaks
are adrift.” Both men rushed for the water, and Nansen, reaching it
first, jumped in and swam for the boats. The water was terribly cold
and the boats had drifted a long distance, but Nansen knew that the
loss of the boats meant death to him and his companion. He swam as long
as he could, and then lay on his back and floated, to rest. Again he
tried to swim, but his limbs became stiff and numb so that he could
scarcely move them. Feebly he pushed on until he succeeded in grasping
a ski which was lying across the bow, and so drawing the kayak to him.
It was almost more than his chilled and weary body could accomplish
to pull himself into one of the boats and paddle back. Johansen, who
was anxiously watching, expected every moment to see his companion
sink down unconscious. But Nansen’s iron will and strength conquered.
Johansen gave Nansen a warm drink, and put him to bed in his sleeping
bag.
Two days later Nansen went walrus hunting, and had another narrow
escape. One of the walruses stuck his tusks through the side of the
kayak and nearly upset it, but Nansen struck the walrus with the paddle
until he loosed his hold and swam away.
Shortly after this adventure, Nansen was one day standing on a hummock,
looking round over the vast desert of snow, ice, and rock. Suddenly
he heard a sound like the bark of a dog, and then something very like
the report of a gun. He shouted to Johansen, who called back that he
heard nothing. Nevertheless, Nansen resolved to go in the direction of
the sound, and find out what it was. Off he started over the hummocks.
After traveling some distance he came upon the footprints of an
animal. It might have been the track of a fox or a wolf, but it looked
strangely like the track of a dog. Then Nansen distinctly heard a dog
barking in the distance. Very soon he heard a human voice also. Wild
with excitement and joy, he mounted a hummock and shouted at the top of
his lungs.
An answering shout started him off at full speed in the direction from
which it came. Amid a sea of hummocks, Nansen soon saw the figure
of a man, followed by a dog. The two men walked toward each other,
waving their hats. When they met they shook hands, and after they had
exchanged a few words the stranger looked sharply at Nansen, and said,
“Are you not Nansen?”
“Yes, I am.”
“By Jove! I am glad to meet you.”
The two shook hands again and again. The stranger was Jackson, the
English Arctic explorer, and his ship, the _Windward_, was expected
every day. Jackson told Nansen that the land on which he stood was
Franz Josef land.
Jackson then sent a man to bring Johansen to his camp, and soon both he
and Nansen were enjoying the comforts of civilized life. After fifteen
months of blubber and bear meat, it was a welcome change to eat the
food of white men, to sleep in beds, to read newspapers and books, and
to have a change of clothing.
It was arranged that Nansen and Johansen should sail with Jackson on
the _Windward_ for Norway. The ship arrived July 26, and August 7,
under a favorable wind, the whole party embarked.
A pilot boarded the vessel when she reached the coast of Norway, and
when he found that Nansen was a passenger, he was amazed. The pilot
told Nansen that everybody thought him dead, for the _Fram_ had not
been heard from. Nansen assured him that the _Fram_ was safe, for he
felt sure that Sverdrup would bring the vessel home.
Immediately after landing, Nansen and Johansen went to a telegraph
office, where they sent many dispatches, so that the wonderful news of
their return was soon received over all parts of the civilized world.
Nansen had succeeded in reaching latitude 86° 14ʹ, farther north than
any other explorer had yet attained, and had returned safely. Millions
of people rejoiced, and Nansen’s name was upon every tongue.
At Hammerfest, Nansen met his wife and Sir George Baden-Powell, who had
been on the point of sending out an expedition in search of him. But
Nansen’s heart was heavy in the midst of all the rejoicing, for no news
had been heard from the _Fram_, and although he had perfect confidence
in Otto Sverdrup, he began to fear that harm had befallen his brave
comrades.
One morning he was awakened by Sir Baden-Powell knocking at his door.
“Come down immediately,” said Sir Baden; “a man wishes to see you.”
Nansen hurriedly dressed and ran below.
There stood the manager of the telegraph office. The manager handed
Nansen a telegram, which he opened with trembling fingers. It read as
follows:――
“_Fram_ arrived in good condition. All well on board. Am going
to Tromsö. Welcome home. O. S.”
Nansen nearly fainted with excitement and relief from his terrible
anxiety. Sir Baden shouted with joy. Johansen smiled until his face
looked like a full moon. As soon as the good news of the _Fram’s_
return became known, the general rejoicing in Hammerfest spread to all
parts of the world.
Nansen’s daring expedition to the North had ended successfully, and
without the loss of a single life. Although Nansen had not reached the
pole, he had come within two hundred and sixty-one miles of it. This
was two hundred miles nearer than any previous explorer had penetrated.
The theory of the southeast current was proved to be correct, for the
_Fram_ had drifted into a high latitude, and then out into the Atlantic
between Spitzbergen and Greenland. If the _Fram_ had entered the ice
pack three hundred miles farther east, Nansen believes that she would
have drifted in a course parallel to the one she actually followed.
This course would have carried her over the pole.
XVIII. PEARY CROSSES GREENLAND
1891–1897
While Nansen was busily exploring, Robert E. Peary, a civil engineer
in the United States Navy, determined to make an attempt to cross the
inland ice of Greenland. Peary was making his plans for this journey
when the news came that Nansen had succeeded in crossing the ice cap
from the eastern coast of Greenland to the western.
Upon hearing this, Peary changed his plans and decided to try to reach
the northern point of Greenland overland. This journey would take him
across the inland ice by a route much farther north than that taken by
Nansen. It would also enable Peary to discover whether Greenland was a
continent, as many supposed, or merely an island.
Funds for the trip were raised by private contribution through the
efforts of Lieutenant Peary’s friends, and on June 6, 1891, the
expedition sailed from Brooklyn on the steamer _Kite_. Peary had
already made one trip to Greenland, and his friends waved their
farewells cheerfully, feeling certain that he would succeed in his
undertaking.
After a pleasant voyage, the _Kite_ reached Upernavik, where she
anchored. Peary hoped to secure the services of an interpreter at this
place, but he was unable to do so. Soon the party set sail again,
leaving behind them the northernmost town on the globe. The _Kite_
steamed along for some time without meeting much ice, but when she
entered Melville bay the pack closed round her, and the 4th of July
found the little vessel snugly frozen in.
Here she remained for a week, during which the average temperature was
about 31° F. On July 11, the ice separated and the ship began to move.
The engines were started in a hurry. After forcing a passage through a
mass of thick ice, the ship was freed and proceeded on her journey.
While the process of ramming the ice was going on, Mr. Peary met with
an accident. A large cake of ice struck the rudder, tearing the wheel
from the hands of the two men on duty. Peary’s leg was caught between
the iron tiller and the house, and both bones snapped above the ankle.
The ship’s surgeon set the broken leg, and Peary recovered rapidly. He
was, however, unable to use his leg for many weeks.
Soon the _Kite_ ran into McCormick bay, where a site for a house was
selected. It was now about the middle of July, and the short summer was
at its height. The sun was bright and warm, and the temperature about
like that of an April day in the temperate zone.
The ice still filled the bay, but narrow streams of water trickled
through in all directions, cutting the ice into great pieces which
rose and fell with the tide. Little brooks ran down the mountains and
through the valleys by the side of great glaciers, while the snowbirds
chirped and twittered, enjoying the brief summer time.
The country around was bright with flowers. Tracks of reindeer, foxes,
and hares were repeatedly noticed, and seals and walruses abounded, so
that the party had no fear of suffering for want of fresh meat.
[Illustration: SETTING FOX TRAPS.]
The wood for the house was taken off the ship. In order to insure
warmth, the walls were made double, with an air space of ten inches
between the outer and inner wall. The house was then covered with
tarred paper, and the inner walls lined with thick, red, Indian
blankets. In addition, a wind-break of stones, turf, empty barrels, and
boxes was built around the house. The dwelling was roofed with canvas,
and in the winter was to be banked with snow. When the little building
was completed, they christened it Red Cliff House, because of the
cliffs of sandstone which rose behind it.
When the stores were safely stowed away within the outer wall, the
_Kite_ steamed away home, leaving Peary, with his wife and his
assistants, to spend the winter within seven hundred and forty miles of
the North Pole.
Peary and his party were very comfortable and contented. They enjoyed
the crisp air and the bright sunshine, and they liked to watch the
beautiful blue-green colors in the ice of the glaciers.
The men hunted, and secured numbers of reindeer skins and furs of all
sorts. They fished, and explored the surrounding islands. While on
these trips they sometimes met Eskimos, who often accompanied them to
Red Cliff House. Some of the Eskimos came with their dog teams, and
Peary was always glad to buy the dogs from them. By November 7 there
were seventeen men, women, and children at the camp, and Peary built a
large snow hut for them to live in.
Soon the long night began and all hunting came to an end. Then the
members of the party busied themselves preparing for the great journey
over the inland ice which Peary intended to make in the spring. The
reindeer skins were stretched and dried and prepared for clothing by
the Eskimo women. In order to soften the skin so that it could be used
for clothing, the women folded it once with the hair inside. Then they
chewed it all along the edge until the fold was made pliable. Another
fold was then made, and treated in the same manner. This process was
continued until the entire skin had been carefully chewed. It was
then scraped, and if necessary, the work was repeated. It took two of
Peary’s best workers about a day to prepare a large buckskin. The teeth
of the Eskimo women are often worn down nearly to the gums by doing
this work.
Peary himself cut the patterns of the clothes and sleeping bags, and
the Eskimo women did the sewing. Peary’s men busied themselves in
trying to make sledges lighter and stronger than anything they had yet
found. They fashioned ivory and horn braces for the sledges. Some of
the Eskimo men helped to make ivory rings for the dogs’ harness. The
Eskimo women chewed and sewed, and everybody was busy and happy.
A large number of Eskimos visited Peary during the winter, some coming
from a distance of two hundred miles. When the white men could not
pronounce the queer names of the Eskimos, they gave them nicknames. A
certain trio were known as the Priest, the Smiler, and the Villain. The
Villain was an entirely harmless Eskimo, whose chief failing was his
huge appetite.
On Christmas Day, Peary invited his Eskimo friends to dinner. After
his own party had partaken of a remarkably good Christmas feast, a
fine venison stew was prepared for the Eskimos. Dr. Cook, the ship’s
surgeon, saw that the guests were clean, to outward appearance at
least, and a jolly, happy party they were, sitting down at a civilized
dinner table for the first time in their lives.
The Eskimo men wore sealskin coats and bearskin trousers, while the
ladies appeared in foxskin jackets and trousers. The Villain sat at the
head of the table and served the repast. The Daisy poured tea in Mrs.
Peary’s place, and conducted herself very gracefully.
Myah, who was called the white man, insisted upon holding both his
knife and spoon in his right hand, and then using his fingers to carry
the food to his mouth. He was rude enough to stand up and try to
harpoon some choice pieces of meat from the stew with his fork. The
Villain reproved him so gravely that he stopped harpooning and turned
his attention to his own plate. It is barely possible that the Villain
was not shocked at the manners of Myah, the white man, but that he
wanted the choice piece of meat himself.
After the stew they had coffee, candy, and raisins, and then the
Eskimos and the white men played games together.
Gradually the long night passed away, and at length it was almost time
for the sun to appear. Peary had ordered an igloo to be built on the
ice cap at an elevation of about two thousand and fifty feet, so that
he might use it when he went up to see the sun rise.
When this igloo was completed, Peary, Dr. Cook, and Astrup started out
one morning, with provisions and sleeping bags, in the hope of catching
a first glimpse of the sun. When they reached the igloo they were very
tired. After supper they took off their fur clothes, crawled into their
sleeping bags, and went to sleep. When Peary awoke, the fine snow was
drifting in his face, and the wind was blowing a terrific gale. The
entrance was blocked with snow, and the three men were buried beneath
the drifts.
Peary rolled himself out with great difficulty, and succeeded in
finding a shovel. Then he and Dr. Cook pulled Astrup out, and the three
men found themselves on top of the drift under which the snow house was
buried. They were without shelter, two thousand feet above sea level,
while the storm was raging so fiercely that they had to shout to one
another in order to be heard.
After a while the snow turned to rain, which froze and covered
everything with ice. Their heavy outside clothes were buried in the
snow house, and they were clad only in their under garments. If it had
not been for the sleeping bags, they would have frozen to death, and
even as it was, their condition was serious. But at length the storm
ceased and the half-frozen men succeeded in digging out their garments.
They were obliged to dress in the open air, with the wind blowing and
the thermometer standing at 3° above zero.
As soon as they were dressed they started for home, and reached Red
Cliff House in safety, warm with exercise. Here, they were informed,
the storm had likewise been terrific. The rain had fallen in torrents,
washing away the snow covering of the house and soaking through the
canvas roof. But Red Cliff House was stanchly built and stood firm.
[Illustration: RED CLIFF HOUSE AFTER THE STORM.]
The long Arctic night had passed away with the storm, and the western
sky was aflame with gorgeous colors; brilliant yellow shaded into pale
rose and green. Misty lights of purple and green floated over the ice,
and the storm was forgotten in the beauty of the new day.
Now that the sun had made its appearance, Peary decided to start on
his white march over the ice cap. On the last day of April three of
the party, accompanied by five Eskimos, left Red Cliff House with two
sledges and twelve dogs. Three days later Peary followed with one
man and a sledge drawn by eight dogs. In a few hours he overtook his
friends and proceeded with them as far as Humboldt glacier, where he
asked for volunteers for the long trip. All of the men were eager to
accompany him, but Astrup was chosen for his companion, and the rest of
the party returned to Red Cliff House.
Peary and Astrup now began their journey to the northern end of
Greenland. They slept during the day and traveled by night, when the
glare of the sun was less trying to their eyes. Peary himself went
first, leading the way. He was followed by three of his best dogs,
harnessed to a light sledge which carried two hundred pounds. These
dogs had become so fond of Peary that they tried always to keep as near
him as possible. They needed no driving or urging, but followed him
into the most dangerous places. In the rear came Astrup, with ten dogs
attached to the big sledge which carried the bulk of the luggage.
Peary had thought himself on top of the ice cap at Humboldt glacier,
but he found that he must climb still higher. As he ascended the
weather became colder, and soon snow began to fall. Worse than all, the
large sledge broke down, but Peary and Astrup mended it and kept on
bravely. At last the weather grew so cold that the snow froze hard, and
the two men were able to travel twenty miles a day.
For weeks Peary and Astrup marched over the great ice, through
snowstorms and furious wind. Whenever fine weather came and the ice
became firm and smooth, they dashed along, forgetting the hardships
they had endured. At length Peary saw land in the distance. Dark brown
and red cliffs, precipices, valleys and mountains, rivers and lakes,
lay stretched out before them. The dogs saw land also, and were as
delighted as the men.
This land looked near, but it was not easy to reach. Men and dogs
slipped and scrambled down the ice crest, through slush and water,
over sharp rocks, across streams, and through valleys. The sun was very
hot, and all the travelers felt the change from the clear cold air of
the inland ice to the heat of the coast region.
The dogs especially suffered from the heat, and this discomfort,
together with their need of fresh meat, made some of them ill. Pau, the
leader of the team, seemed very weak, and Peary feared that he would
die. Pau was a very brave dog, who had killed many polar bears. He
must have had some knowledge of magic; at any rate, he was an expert
in slipping his harness. Whenever he wished to, he could slip out and
away on a trip of his own in search of food. When the other dogs saw
Pau free, they tried to break their harness and follow him, often with
success.
One day Peary saw two black objects on the opposite side of a valley.
At first he thought they were large rocks, but soon he became certain
that they were musk-oxen. Peary patted poor Pau’s head, as if to
tell him that he was going to try to get food for him. Pau seemed to
understand, for his eyes brightened and he wagged his tail.
Peary took his gun and started off in pursuit of the musk-oxen. At last
he came very near them, but so much depended upon his success that he
was seized with trembling. It required a tremendous effort to point
the gun and pull the trigger. The enormous ox looked up curiously, and
walked toward the man, as if to see what the trouble was. Peary then
took aim, fired, and killed him. The other musk-ox tried to run away,
but Peary shot him also.
Astrup and the dogs were frantic with delight. Peary patted each dog on
the head when he returned, as if to assure him of the feast he was to
have. Soon the great, shaggy musk-oxen were skinned and prepared for
food, and a huge hind quarter was carried to the dogs.
The half-starved animals had a royal banquet, and for a while nothing
could be heard but the crunching of bones, and now and then a deep
growl. Pau brightened up and took his place again as leader, seizing
the largest piece of meat without any interference from the other dogs.
Lion was the beautiful leader of the Cape York team. His thick fur was
snowy white, and his mane long and shaggy. Lion knew as much about ice
travel as Peary himself, and he never got tangled in his traces or
tried to eat his harness. Upon this occasion, however, Lion actually
slipped harness. When Peary called him to have it replaced, Lion obeyed
instantly, crouching obediently at his master’s feet.
While Peary was caring for the dogs, Astrup had fashioned a fur couch
from the hides of the musk-oxen, and had broiled some delicious musk-ox
steaks. That night men and dogs fell asleep happy and comfortable.
After climbing over another slope, the company halted on the edge of a
high cliff, the northeastern point of Greenland. Beyond the mainland
they could descry islands in the distance. An icebound channel marked
the northern boundary of Greenland. The large bay spreading out before
them Peary named Independence bay, in honor of the day of discovery,
July 4, 1892. The cliff was called Navy cliff. A cairn was erected upon
Navy cliff, and the stars and stripes was unfurled.
Peary felt well repaid for his weary march. He had succeeded in
reaching latitude 81° 37ʹ 5ʺ north; he had crossed the great ice cap,
and had proved that Greenland is an island; he had looked out upon the
Arctic ocean from a point of land never before reached by civilized
men; and he had gained a clear idea of the northern coast of Greenland.
On the return trip Peary reduced the weight of the packs by throwing
away those articles which he did not expect to need again. On the
evening of July 7 the two men began the climb up the slope to the
inland ice. At one time they were eight thousand feet above the level
of the sea. While they were upon a lofty elevation, a severe storm kept
them prisoners in a snowdrift for sixty hours. Peary and Astrup slept
most of the time. When the wind died away and they crept out of the
drift, dogs and sledges had disappeared. These were soon dug out from
the snow, and the journey was resumed.
About this time Peary discovered, to his alarm, that a quantity of his
canned provisions had spoiled, and there was danger that he might run
short of food. The dogs, too, seemed fagged and low-spirited. They
pulled away in a lifeless manner, with drooping tails and as if they
were utterly discouraged by this endless journey. So many of them
died that only five lived to reach home. When these five dogs at last
scented land, they were filled with new life, and dashed merrily along
down the slope toward McCormick bay.
One day a number of black spots appeared on the white surface of the
snow. These spots proved to be people from the _Kite_, which had
arrived in the bay and was now waiting to carry Peary and his party
back to the United States. Peary met the new arrivals joyfully, and
soon all were assembled at Red Cliff House. Great was the rejoicing
when Peary told of the success of his journey over the inland ice.