Farthest North

 Being the Record of a Voyage of Exploration of the Ship "Fram" 1893-96 and of a Fifteen Months' Sleigh Journey by Dr. Nansen and Lieut. Johansen

 By

 Dr. Fridtjof Nansen

 With an Appendix by Otto Sverdrup Captain of the Fram

 About 120 Full-page and Numerous Text Illustrations 16 Colored Plates in Facsimile from Dr. Nansen's Own Sketches, Etched Portrait, and Photogravures

 In two volumes

 Vol. I. 

 New York and London Harper & Brothers Publishers

 Copyright, 1897, by Harper & Brothers. 

 All rights reserved. 

 TO HER WHO CHRISTENED THE SHIP AND HAD THE COURAGE TO REMAIN BEHIND

CONTENTS OF VOL. I. 

 CHAP. PAGE

 I. Introduction 1 II. Preparations and Equipment 54 III. The Start 81 IV. Farewell To Norway 104 V. Voyage Through the Kara Sea 146 VI. The Winter Night 237 VII. The Spring and Summer of 1894 442 VIII. Second Autumn in the Ice 525

ILLUSTRATIONS IN VOL. I. 

 Page. 

 Fridtjof Nansen Etched Frontispiece Colin Archer 58 Design of the "Fram" 61 Sigurd Scott-Hansen 85 Adolf Juell 89 The "Fram" leaving Bergen 93 Otto Sverdrup 99 First drift-ice (July 28, 1893) 107 The new church and the old church at Khabarova 116 Peter Henriksen 119 Our trial trip with the dogs 127 Evening scene at Khabarova 131 O. Christofersen and A. Trontheim 135 Landing on Yalmal 148 The plain of Yalmal 150 In the Kara Sea 152 The "Fram" in the Kara Sea 155 Ostrova Kamenni (Rocky Island), off the coast of Siberia 158 Theodor C. Jacobsen, mate of the "Fram" 161 Henrik Blessing 167 A dead bear on Reindeer Island (August 21, 1893) 172 "We first tried to drag the bears" 173 Bernard Nordahl 177 Ivar Mogstad 185 Bernt Bentzen 193 Lars Pettersen 205 Anton Amundsen 213 Cape Chelyuskin, the Northernmost point of the Old World 218 On land East of Cape Chelyuskin (September 10, 1893) 219 A warm corner among the walruses, off East Taimur 223 The ice into which the "Fram" was frozen (September 25, 1893) 234 The smithy on the "Fram" 239 The thermometer house 244 Magnetic observations 247 A smoke in the galley of the "Fram" 250 "The saloon was converted into a reading-room" 252 Scott-Hansen and Johansen inspecting the barometers Facing p. 254 Dr. Blessing in his cabin 257 "I let loose some of the dogs" 263 The men who were afraid of frightening the bear. "Off steals Blessing on tiptoe" 267 Dogs chained on the ice 272 We lay in open water 275 My first attempt at dog driving 289 A chronometer--observation with the theodolite Facing p. 314 A lively game of cards 318 "'I took the lantern and gave him such a whack on the head with it'" 330 A nocturnal visitant 336 Sverdrup's bear-trap (moonlight, December 20, 1893) 339 "He stared, hesitating, at the delicious morsel" 341 Promenade in times of peace with Sverdrup's patent foot-gear 345 "Fram" fellows on the war-path: difference between the Sverdrup and the Lapp foot-gear 346 "Fram" fellows still on the war-path 347 "It was strange once more to see the moonlight playing on the coal-black waves" 351 A game of halma 355 First appearance of the sun 394 Diagrams of ice with layers 401 Johansen reading the anemometer 409 Two friends 418 Experiment in sledge sailing 421 At the coming of the Spring (March, 1894) 425 Returning home after sunset (March 31, 1894) 429 Observing the eclipse of the sun (April 6, 1894) 433 Tailpiece 441 Taking a sounding of 2058 fathoms 447 Home-sickness (June 16, 1894) 451 Sailing on the fresh-water pool (July 12, 1894) 454 Reading temperatures with lens Facing p. 456 Peter Henriksen in a brown study (July 6, 1894) 461 Taking water temperatures 466 Summer guests 469 Rhodos Tethia 473 Nansen takes a walk (July 6, 1894) 477 Our kennels (September 27, 1894) 480 The dogs basking in the sun (June 13, 1894) 482 The Seventeenth-of-May procession, 1894 485 The drift-ice in Summer (July 12, 1894) 487 A Summer scene (July 21, 1894) 493 The stern of the "Fram. " Johansen and "Sultan" (June 16, 1894) 499 Blessing goes off in search of algæ 503 A Summer evening (July 14, 1894) 505 Blessing fishing for algæ 507 Pressure-ridge on the port quarter of the "Fram" (July 1, 1894) 509 Skeletons of a kayak for one man (bamboo) and of a double kayak, lying on a hand-sledge 511 A Summer evening (July 14, 1894) 519 Tailpiece 524 Pettersen after the explosion 529 Snow-shoe practice (September 28, 1894) 542 Return from a snow-shoe run (September 28, 1894) 544 Block of ice (September 28, 1894) 546 The waning day (October, 1894) 548 A snow-shoe excursion (October, 1894) 553 In line for the photographer 555 Deep-water temperature. "Up with the thermometer" (July 12, 1894) 559 On the after-deck of the "Fram" (October, 1894) 563 The return of snow-shoers Facing p. 566

COLORED PLATES IN VOL. I. 

  Facing p. 

 I. Walruses killed off the East coast of the Taimur Peninsula (September 12, 1893) 220 II. Sleepy and cross (September 12, 1893) 228 III. Sunset off the North coast of Asia, North of the mouth of the Chatanga (September 12, 1893) 232 IV. Off the edge of the ice. --Gathering storm (September 14, 1893) 290 V. Evening among the drift-ice (September 22, 1893) 304 VI. At sunset (September 22, 1893) 324 VII. The waning polar day (September 22, 1893) 352 VIII. Moonlight (November 22, 1893) 576

PUBLISHER'S NOTE

The Author had not originally contemplated the publication of thecolored sketches which are produced in this work. He has permittedtheir reproduction because they may be useful as showing color effectsin the Arctic; but he wishes it understood that he claims no artisticmerit for them. 

FARTHEST NORTH

CHAPTER I

INTRODUCTION

 "A time will come in later years when the Ocean will unloose the bands of things, when the immeasurable earth will lie open, when seafarers will discover new countries, and Thule will no longer be the extreme point among the lands. "--Seneca. 

Unseen and untrodden under their spotless mantle of ice the rigidpolar regions slept the profound sleep of death from the earliest dawnof time. Wrapped in his white shroud, the mighty giant stretched hisclammy ice-limbs abroad, and dreamed his age-long dreams. 

Ages passed--deep was the silence. 

Then, in the dawn of history, far away in the south, the awakeningspirit of man reared its head on high and gazed over the earth. Tothe south it encountered warmth, to the north, cold; and behind theboundaries of the unknown it placed in imagination the twin kingdomsof consuming heat and of deadly cold. 

But the limits of the unknown had to recede step by step before theever-increasing yearning after light and knowledge of the human mind, till they made a stand in the north at the threshold of Nature'sgreat Ice Temple of the polar regions with their endless silence. 

Up to this point no insuperable obstacles had opposed the progressof the advancing hosts, which confidently proceeded on their way. Buthere the ramparts of ice and the long darkness of winter brought themto bay. Host after host marched on towards the north, only to sufferdefeat. Fresh ranks stood ever ready to advance over the bodies oftheir predecessors. Shrouded in fog lay the mythic land of Nivlheim, where the "Rimturser" [1] carried on their wild gambols. 

Why did we continually return to the attack? There in the darknessand cold stood Helheim, where the death-goddess held her sway;there lay Nåstrand, the shore of corpses. Thither, where no livingbeing could draw breath, thither troop after troop made its way. Towhat end? Was it to bring home the dead, as did Hermod when herode after Baldur? No! It was simply to satisfy man's thirst forknowledge. Nowhere, in truth, has knowledge been purchased at greatercost of privation and suffering. But the spirit of mankind will neverrest till every spot of these regions has been trodden by the footof man, till every enigma has been solved. 

Minute by minute, degree by degree, we have stolen forward, withpainful effort. Slowly the day has approached; even now we are but inits early dawn; darkness still broods over vast tracts around the Pole. 

Our ancestors, the old Vikings, were the first Arctic voyagers. It hasbeen said that their expeditions to the frozen sea were of no moment, as they have left no enduring marks behind them. This, however, is scarcely correct. Just as surely as the whalers of our age, intheir persistent struggles with ice and sea, form our outposts ofinvestigation up in the north, so were the old Northmen, with Ericthe Red, Leif, and others at their head, the pioneers of the polarexpeditions of future generations. 

It should be borne in mind that as they were the first oceannavigators, so also were they the first to combat with the ice. Longbefore other seafaring nations had ever ventured to do more than hugthe coast lines, our ancestors had traversed the open seas in alldirections, had discovered Iceland and Greenland, and had colonizedthem. At a later period they discovered America, and did not shrinkfrom making a straight course over the Atlantic Ocean, from Greenlandto Norway. Many and many a bout must they have had with the ice alongthe coasts of Greenland in their open barks, and many a life musthave been lost. 

And that which impelled them to undertake these expeditions was not themere love of adventure, though that is, indeed, one of the essentialtraits of our national character. It was rather the necessity ofdiscovering new countries for the many restless beings that couldfind no room in Norway. Furthermore, they were stimulated by a realinterest for knowledge. Othar, who about 890 resided in England atAlfred's Court, set out on an errand of geographical investigation;or, as he says himself, "he felt an inspiration and a desire to learn, to know, and to demonstrate how far the land stretched towards thenorth, and if there were any regions inhabited by man northward beyondthe desert waste. " He lived in the northernmost part of Helgeland, probably at Bjarköi, and sailed round the North Cape and eastward, even to the White Sea. 

Adam of Bremen relates of Harald Hårdråde, "the experienced king ofthe Northmen, " that he undertook a voyage out into the sea towardsthe north and "explored the expanse of the northern ocean with hisships, but darkness spread over the verge where the world falls away, and he put about barely in time to escape being swallowed in thevast abyss. " This was Ginnungagap, the abyss at the world's end. Howfar he went no one knows, but at all events he deserves recognitionas one of the first of the polar navigators that were animated bypure love of knowledge. Naturally, these Northmen were not free fromthe superstitious ideas about the polar regions prevalent in theirtimes. There, indeed, they placed their Ginnungagap, their Nivlheim, Helheim, and later on Trollebotn; but even these mythical and poeticalideas contained so large a kernel of observation that our fathers maybe said to have possessed a remarkably clear conception of the truenature of things. How soberly and correctly they observed may bestbe seen a couple of hundred years later in Kongespeilet ("The Mirrorof Kings"), the most scientific treatise of our ancient literature, where it is said that "as soon as one has traversed the greaterpart of the wild sea, one comes upon such a huge quantity of icethat nowhere in the whole world has the like been known. Some of theice is so flat that it looks as if it were frozen on the sea itself;it is from 8 to 10 feet thick, and extends so far out into the seathat it would take a journey of four or more days to reach the landover it. But this ice lies more to the northeast or north, beyondthe limits of the land, than to the south and southwest or west. . . . 

"This ice is of a wonderful nature. It lies at times quite still, asone would expect, with openings or large fjords in it; but sometimesits movement is so strong and rapid as to equal that of a ship runningbefore the wind, and it drifts against the wind as often as with it. "

This is a conception all the more remarkable when viewed in the lightof the crude ideas entertained by the rest of the world at that periodwith regard to foreign climes. 

The strength of our people now dwindled away, and centuries elapsedbefore explorers once more sought the northern seas. Then it wasother nations, especially the Dutch and the English, that led thevan. The sober observations of the old Northmen were forgotten, andin their stead we meet with repeated instances of the attraction ofmankind towards the most fantastic ideas; a tendency of thought thatfound ample scope in the regions of the north. When the cold provednot to be absolutely deadly, theories flew to the opposite extreme, and marvellous were the erroneous ideas that sprang up and haveheld their own down to the present day. Over and over again it hasbeen the same--the most natural explanation of phenomena is the veryone that men have most shunned; and, if no middle course was to befound, they have rushed to the wildest hypothesis. It is only thusthat the belief in an open polar sea could have arisen and held itsground. Though everywhere ice was met with, people maintained thatthis open sea must lie behind the ice. Thus the belief in an ice-freenortheast and northwest passage to the wealth of Cathay or of India, first propounded towards the close of the 15th century, cropped upagain and again, only to be again and again refuted. Since the icebarred the southern regions, the way must lie farther north; andfinally a passage over the Pole itself was sought for. Wild as thesetheories were, they have worked for the benefit of mankind; for bytheir means our knowledge of the earth has been widely extended. Hencewe may see that no work done in the service of investigation is everlost, not even when carried out under false assumptions. England hasto thank these chimeras in no small degree for the fact that she hasbecome the mightiest seafaring nation of the world. 

By many paths and by many means mankind has endeavored to penetratethis kingdom of death. At first the attempt was made exclusively bysea. Ships were then ill adapted to combat the ice, and people wereloath to make the venture. The clinker-built pine and fir barks ofthe old Northmen were no better fitted for the purpose than werethe small clumsy carvels of the first English and Dutch Arcticexplorers. Little by little they learnt to adapt their vessels tothe conditions, and with ever-increasing daring they forced them inamong the dreaded floes. 

But the uncivilized polar tribes, both those that inhabit the Siberiantundras and the Eskimo of North America, had discovered, long beforepolar expeditions had begun, another and a safer means of traversingthese regions--to wit, the sledge, usually drawn by dogs. It was inSiberia that this excellent method of locomotion was first appliedto the service of polar exploration. Already in the 17th and 18thcenturies the Russians undertook very extensive sledge journeys, andcharted the whole of the Siberian coast from the borders of Europeto Bering Strait. And they did not merely travel along the coasts, but crossed the drift-ice itself to the New Siberian Islands, andeven north of them. Nowhere, perhaps, have travellers gone throughso many sufferings, or evinced so much endurance. 

In America, too, the sledge was employed by Englishmen at an early datefor the purpose of exploring the shores of the Arctic seas. Sometimesthe toboggan or Indian sledge was used, sometimes that of theEskimo. It was under the able leadership of M'Clintock that sledgejourneys attained their highest development. While the Russians hadgenerally travelled with a large number of dogs, and only a few men, the English employed many more men on their expeditions, and theirsledges were entirely, or for the most part, drawn by the explorersthemselves. Thus in the most energetic attempt ever made to reach highlatitudes, Albert Markham's memorable march towards the north from theAlert's winter quarters, there were 33 men who had to draw the sledges, though there were plenty of dogs on board the ship. It would appear, indeed, as if dogs were not held in great estimation by the English. 

The American traveller Peary has, however, adopted a totally differentmethod of travelling on the inland ice of Greenland, employing asfew men and as many dogs as possible. The great importance of dogsfor sledge journeys was clear to me before I undertook my Greenlandexpedition, and the reason I did not use them then was simply thatI was unable to procure any serviceable animals. [2]

A third method may yet be mentioned which has been employed in theArctic regions--namely, boats and sledges combined. It is said of theold Northmen in the Sagas and in the Kongespeilet, that for days onend they had to drag their boats over the ice in the Greenland sea, in order to reach land. The first in modern times to make use ofthis means of travelling was Parry, who, in his memorable attemptto reach the Pole in 1827, abandoned his ship and made his way overthe drift-ice northward with boats, which he dragged on sledges. Hesucceeded in attaining the highest latitude (82° 45') that had yet beenreached; but here the current carried him to the south more quicklythan he could advance against it, and he was obliged to turn back. 

Of later years this method of travelling has not been greatly employedin approaching the Pole. It may, however, be mentioned that Markhamtook boats with him also on his sledge expedition. Many expeditionshave through sheer necessity accomplished long distances over thedrift-ice in this way, in order to reach home after having abandoned orlost their ship. Especial mention may be made of the Austro-HungarianTegethoff expedition to Franz Josef Land, and the ill-fated AmericanJeannette expedition. 

It seems that but few have thought of following the example of theEskimo--living as they do, and, instead of heavy boats, taking lightkayaks drawn by dogs. At all events, no attempts have been made inthis direction. 

The methods of advance have been tested on four main routes: theSmith Sound route, the sea route between Greenland and Spitzbergen, Franz Josef Land route, and the Bering Strait route. 

In later times, the point from which the Pole has been mostfrequently assailed is Smith Sound, probably because Americanexplorers had somewhat too hastily asserted that they had theredescried the open Polar Sea, extending indefinitely towards thenorth. Every expedition was stopped, however, by immense masses ofice, which came drifting southward, and piled themselves up againstthe coasts. The most important expedition by this route was theEnglish one conducted by Nares in 1875-76, the equipment of whichinvolved a vast expenditure. Markham, the next in command to Nares, reached the highest latitude till then attained, 83° 20', but atthe cost of enormous exertion and loss; and Nares was of opinionthat the impossibility of reaching the Pole by this route was fullydemonstrated for all future ages. 

During the stay of the Greely expedition (from 1881 to 1884) in thissame region, Lockwood attained a somewhat higher record, viz. , 83°24', the most northerly point on the globe that human feet had troddenprevious to the expedition of which the present work treats. 

By way of the sea between Greenland and Spitzbergen, several attemptshave been made to penetrate the secrets of the domain of ice. In1607 Henry Hudson endeavored to reach the Pole along the east coastof Greenland, where he was in hopes of finding an open basin and awaterway to the Pacific. His progress was, however, stayed at 73°north latitude, at a point of the coast which he named "Hold withHope. " The German expedition under Koldeway (1869-70), which visitedthe same waters, reached by the aid of sledges as far north as 77°north latitude. Owing to the enormous masses of ice which the polarcurrent sweeps southward along this coast, it is certainly one of themost unfavorable routes for a polar expedition. A better route is thatby Spitzbergen, which was essayed by Hudson, when his progress wasblocked off Greenland. Here he reached 80° 23' north latitude. Thanksto the warm current that runs by the west coast of Spitzbergen in anortherly direction, the sea is kept free from ice, and it is withoutcomparison the route by which one can the most safely and easily reachhigh latitudes in ice-free waters. It was north of Spitzbergen thatEdward Parry made his attempt in 1827, above alluded to. 

Farther eastward the ice-conditions are less favorable, and thereforefew polar expeditions have directed their course through theseregions. The original object of the Austro-Hungarian expeditionunder Weyprecht and Payer (1872-74) was to seek for the NortheastPassage; but at its first meeting with the ice it was set fast offthe north point of Novaya Zemlya, drifted northward, and discoveredFranz Josef Land, whence Payer endeavored to push forward to thenorth with sledges, reaching 82° 5' north latitude on an island, which he named Crown-Prince Rudolf's Land. To the north of this hethought he could see an extensive tract of land, lying in about 83°north latitude, which he called Petermann's Land. Franz Josef Landwas afterwards twice visited by the English traveller Leigh Smith in1880 and 1881-82; and it is here that the English Jackson-Harmsworthexpedition is at present established. 

The plan of the Danish expedition under Hovgaard was to push forwardto the North Pole from Cape Chelyuskin along the east coast of anextensive tract of land which Hovgaard thought must lie to the eastof Franz Josef Land. He got set fast in the ice, however, in the KaraSea, and remained the winter there, returning home the following year. 

Only a few attempts have been made through Bering Strait. The first wasCook's, in 1776; the last the Jeannette expedition (1879-81), under DeLong, a lieutenant in the American navy. Scarcely anywhere have polartravellers been so hopelessly blocked by ice in comparatively lowlatitudes. The last-named expedition, however, had a most importantbearing upon my own. As De Long himself says in a letter to JamesGordon Bennett, who supplied the funds for the expedition, he wasof opinion that there were three routes to choose from--Smith Sound, the east coast of Greenland, or Bering Strait; but he put most faithin the last, and this was ultimately selected. His main reason forthis choice was his belief in a Japanese current running north throughBering Strait and onward along the east coast of Wrangel Land, whichwas believed to extend far to the north. It was urged that the warmwater of this current would open a way along that coast, possiblyup to the Pole. The experience of whalers showed that whenever theirvessels were set fast in the ice here they drifted northwards; hence itwas concluded that the current generally set in that direction. "Thiswill help explorers, " says De Long, "to reach high latitudes, but atthe same time will make it more difficult for them to come back. " Thetruth of these words he himself was to learn by bitter experience. 

The Jeannette stuck fast in the ice on September 6th, 1879, in 71°35' north latitude and 175° 6' east longitude, southeast of WrangelLand--which, however, proved to be a small island--and drifted withthe ice in a west-northwesterly direction for two years, when itfoundered, June 12th, 1881, north of the New Siberian Islands, in 77°15' north latitude and 154° 59' east longitude. 

Everywhere, then, has the ice stopped the progress of mankindtowards the north. In two cases only have ice-bound vessels driftedin a northerly direction--in the case of the Tegethoff and theJeannette--while most of the others have been carried away from theirgoal by masses of ice drifting southward. 

On reading the history of Arctic explorations, it early occurred tome that it would be very difficult to wrest the secrets from theseunknown regions of ice by adopting the routes and the methods hithertoemployed. But where did the proper route lie?

It was in the autumn of 1884 that I happened to see an article byProfessor Mohn in the Norwegian Morgenblad, in which it was stated thatsundry articles which must have come from the Jeannette had been foundon the southwest coast of Greenland. He conjectured that they must havedrifted on a floe right across the Polar Sea. It immediately occurredto me that here lay the route ready to hand. If a floe could driftright across the unknown region, that drift might also be enlisted inthe service of exploration--and my plan was laid. Some years, however, elapsed before, in February, 1890, after my return from my Greenlandexpedition, I at last propounded the idea in an address before theChristiania Geographical Society. As this address plays an importantpart in the history of the expedition, I shall reproduce its principalfeatures, as printed in the March number of Naturen, 1891. 

After giving a brief sketch of the different polar expeditions offormer years, I go on to say: "The results of these numerous attempts, as I have pointed out, seem somewhat discouraging. They appear toshow plainly enough that it is impossible to sail to the Pole by anyroute whatever; for everywhere the ice has proved an impenetrablebarrier, and has stayed the progress of invaders on the threshold ofthe unknown regions. 

"To drag boats over the uneven drift-ice, which moreover is constantlymoving under the influence of the current and wind, is an equallygreat difficulty. The ice lays such obstacles in the way that any onewho has ever attempted to traverse it will not hesitate to declareit well-nigh impossible to advance in this manner with the equipmentand provisions requisite for such an undertaking. "

Had we been able to advance over land, I said, that would have been themost certain route; in that case the Pole could have been reached "inone summer by Norwegian snow-shoe runners. " But there is every reasonto doubt the existence of any such land. Greenland, I considered, did not extend farther than the most northerly known point of itswest coast. "It is not probable that Franz Josef Land reaches to thePole; from all we can learn it forms a group of islands separatedfrom each other by deep sounds, and it appears improbable that anylarge continuous track of land is to be found there. 

"Some people are perhaps of opinion that one ought to defer theexamination of regions like those around the Pole, beset, as theyare, with so many difficulties, till new means of transport have beendiscovered. I have heard it intimated that one fine day we shall beable to reach the Pole by a balloon, and that it is only waste of timeto seek to get there before that day comes. It need scarcely be shownthat this line of reasoning is untenable. Even if one could reallysuppose that in the near or distant future this frequently mooted ideaof travelling to the Pole in an air-ship would be realized, such anexpedition, however interesting it might be in certain respects, wouldbe far from yielding the scientific results of expeditions carried outin the manner here indicated. Scientific results of importance in allbranches of research can be attained only by persistent observationsduring a lengthened sojourn in these regions, while those of a balloonexpedition cannot but be of a transitory nature. 

"We must, then, endeavor to ascertain if there are not otherroutes--and I believe there are. I believe that if we pay attentionto the actually existent forces of nature, and seek to work with andnot against them, we shall thus find the safest and easiest methodof reaching the Pole. It is useless, as previous expeditions havedone, to work against the current; we should see if there is not acurrent we can work with. The Jeannette expedition is the only one, in my opinion, that started on the right track, though it may havebeen unwittingly and unwillingly. 

"The Jeannette drifted for two years in the ice, from Wrangel Landto the New Siberian Islands. Three years after she foundered to thenorth of these islands there was found frozen into the drift-ice, inthe neighborhood of Julianehaab, on the southwest coast of Greenland, a number of articles which appeared, from sundry indubitable marks, toproceed from the sunken vessel. These articles were first discoveredby the Eskimo, and were afterwards collected by Mr. Lytzen, ColonialManager at Julianehaab, who has given a list of them in the DanishGeographical Journal for 1885. Among them the following may especiallybe mentioned:

 "1. A list of provisions, signed by De Long, the commander of the Jeannette. "2. A MS. List of the Jeannette's boats. "3. A pair of oilskin breeches marked 'Louis Noros, ' the name of one of the Jeannette's crew, who was saved. "4. The peak of a cap on which, according to Lytzen's statement, was written F. C. Lindemann. The name of one of the crew of the Jeannette, who was also saved, was F. C. Nindemann. This may either have been a clerical error on Lytzen's part or a misprint in the Danish journal. 

"In America, when it was reported that these articles had been found, people were very sceptical, and doubts of their genuineness wereexpressed in the American newspapers. The facts, however, can scarcelybe sheer inventions; and it may therefore be safely assumed that anice-floe bearing these articles from the Jeannette had drifted fromthe place where it sank to Julianehaab. 

"By what route did this ice-floe reach the west coast of Greenland?

"Professor Mohn, in a lecture before the Scientific Society ofChristiania, in November, 1894, showed that it could have come by noother way than across the Pole. [3]

"It cannot possibly have come through Smith Sound, as the currentthere passes along the western side of Baffin's Bay, and it wouldthus have been conveyed to Baffin's Land or Labrador, and not tothe west coast of Greenland. The current flows along this coast ina northerly direction, and is a continuation of the Greenland polarcurrent, which comes along the east coast of Greenland, takes a bendround Cape Farewell, and passes upward along the west coast. 

"It is by this current only that the floe could have come. 

"But the question now arises: What route did it take from the NewSiberian Islands in order to reach the east coast of Greenland?

"It is conceivable that it might have drifted along the north coastof Siberia, south of Franz Josef Land, up through the sound betweenFranz Josef Land and Spitzbergen, or even to the south of Spitzbergen, and might after that have got into the polar current which flows alongGreenland. If, however, we study the directions of the currents inthese regions so far as they are at present ascertained, it will befound that this is extremely improbable, not to say impossible. "

Having shown that this is evident from the Tegethoff drift and frommany other circumstances, I proceeded:

"The distance from the New Siberian Islands to the 80th degreeof latitude on the east coast of Greenland is 1360 miles, and thedistance from the last-named place to Julianehaab 1540 miles, makingtogether a distance of 2900 miles. This distance was traversed bythe floe in 1100 days, which gives a speed of 2. 6 miles per day of 24hours. The time during which the relics drifted after having reachedthe 80th degree of latitude, till they arrived at Julianehaab, can becalculated with tolerable precision, as the speed of the above-namedcurrent along the east coast of Greenland is well known. It may beassumed that it took at least 400 days to accomplish this distance;there remain, then, about 700 days as the longest time the driftingarticles can have taken from the New Siberian Islands to the 80thdegree of latitude. Supposing that they took the shortest route--i. E. , across the Pole--this computation gives a speed of about 2 miles in24 hours. On the other hand, supposing they went by the route south ofFranz Josef Land, and south of Spitzbergen, they must have drifted atmuch higher speed. Two miles in the 24 hours, however, coincides mostremarkably with the rate at which the Jeannette drifted during thelast months of her voyage, from January 1 to June 12, 1881. In thistime she drifted at an average rate of a little over 2 miles in the 24hours. If, however, the average speed of the whole of the Jeannette'sdrifting be taken, it will be found to be only 1 mile in the 24 hours. 

"But are there no other evidences of a current flowing across theNorth Pole from Bering Sea on the one side to the Atlantic Ocean onthe other?

"Yes, there are. 

"Dr. Rink received from a Greenlander at Godthaab a remarkable pieceof wood which had been found among the drift-timber on the coast. Itis one of the 'throwing sticks' which the Eskimo use in hurling theirbird-darts, but altogether unlike those used by the Eskimo on the westcoast of Greenland. Dr. Rink conjectured that it possibly proceededfrom the Eskimo on the east coast of Greenland. 

"From later inquiries, [4] however, it appeared that it must havecome from the coast of Alaska in the neighborhood of Bering Strait, as that is the only place where 'throwing sticks' of a similar formare used. It was even ornamented with Chinese glass beads, exactlysimilar to those which the Alaskan Eskimo obtain by barter fromAsiatic tribes, and use for the decoration of their 'throwing sticks. '

"We may, therefore, with confidence assert that this piece of woodwas carried from the west coast of Alaska over to Greenland by acurrent the whole course of which we do not know, but which may beassumed to flow very near the North Pole, or at some place betweenit and Franz Josef Land. 

"There are, moreover, still further proofs that such a currentexists. As is well known, no trees grow in Greenland that can be usedfor making boats, sledges, or other appliances. The driftwood that iscarried down by the polar current along the east coast of Greenlandand up the west coast is, therefore, essential to the existence ofthe Greenland Eskimo. But whence does this timber come?

"Here our inquiries again carry us to lands on the other side of thePole. I have myself had an opportunity of examining large quantities ofdriftwood both on the west coast and on the east coast of Greenland. Ihave, moreover, found pieces drifting in the sea off the east coast, and, like earlier travellers, have arrived at the conclusion thatmuch the greater part of it can only have come from Siberia, whilea smaller portion may possibly have come from America. For amongstit are to be found fir, Siberian larch, and other kinds of woodpeculiar to the north, which could scarcely have come from any otherquarter. Interesting in this respect are the discoveries that havebeen made on the east coast of Greenland by the second German PolarExpedition. Out of twenty-five pieces of driftwood, seventeen wereSiberian larch, five Norwegian fir (probably Picea obovata), two akind of alder (Alnus incana?), and one a poplar (Populus tremula? thecommon aspen), all of which are trees found in Siberia. 

"By way of supplement to these observations on the Greenland side, it may be mentioned that the Jeannette expedition frequently foundSiberian driftwood (fir and birch) between the floes in the strongnortherly current to the northward of the New Siberian Islands. 

"Fortunately for the Eskimo, such large quantities of this driftwoodcome every year to the coasts of Greenland that in my opinion onecannot but assume that they are conveyed thither by a constantlyflowing current, especially as the wood never appears to have beenvery long in the sea--at all events, not without having been frozenin the ice. 

"That this driftwood passes south of Franz Josef Land and Spitzbergenis quite as unreasonable a theory as that the ice-floe with the relicsfrom the Jeannette drifted by this route. In further disproof of thisassumption it may be stated that Siberian driftwood is found northof Spitzbergen in the strong southerly current, against which Parryfought in vain. 

"It appears, therefore, that on these grounds also we cannot but admitthe existence of a current flowing across, or in close proximity to, the Pole. 

"As an interesting fact in this connection, it may also be mentionedthat the German botanist Grisebach has shown that the Greenland floraincludes a series of Siberian vegetable forms that could scarcelyhave reached Greenland in any other way than by the help of such acurrent conveying the seeds. 

"On the drift-ice in Denmark Strait (between Iceland and Greenland)I have made observations which tend to the conclusion that this icetoo was of Siberian origin. For instance, I found quantities of mud onit, which seemed to be of Siberian origin, or might possibly have comefrom North American rivers. It is possible, however, to maintain thatthis mud originates in the glacier rivers that flow from under the icein the north of Greenland, or in other unknown polar lands; so thatthis piece of evidence is of less importance than those already named. 

"Putting all this together, we seem driven to the conclusion thata current flows at some point between the Pole and Franz Josef Landfrom the Siberian Arctic Sea to the east coast of Greenland. 

"That such must be the case we may also infer in another way. If weregard, for instance, the polar current--that broad current whichflows down from the unknown polar regions between Spitzbergen andGreenland--and consider what an enormous mass of water it carriesalong, it must seem self-evident that this cannot come from acircumscribed and small basin, but must needs be gathered fromdistant sources, the more so as the Polar Sea (so far as we knowit) is remarkably shallow everywhere to the north of the European, Asiatic, and American coasts. The polar current is no doubt fed bythat branch of the Gulf Stream which makes its way up the west sideof Spitzbergen; but this small stream is far from being sufficient, and the main body of its water must be derived from farther northward. 

"It is probable that the polar current stretches its suckers, as it were, to the coast of Siberia and Bering Strait, and drawsits supplies from these distant regions. The water it carries offis replaced partly through the warm current before mentioned whichmakes its way through Bering Strait, and partly by that branch of theGulf Stream which, passing by the north of Norway, bends eastwardtowards Novaya Zemlya, and of which a great portion unquestionablycontinues its course along the north coast of this island into theSiberian Arctic Sea. That a current coming from the south takes thisdirection--at all events, in some measure--appears probable fromthe well-known fact that in the northern hemisphere the rotation ofthe earth tends to compel a northward-flowing current, whether ofwater or of air, to assume an easterly course. The earth's rotationmay also cause a southward-flowing stream, like the polar current, to direct its course westward to the east coast of Greenland. 

"But even if these currents flowing in the polar basin did not exist, I am still of opinion that in some other way a body of water mustcollect in it, sufficient to form a polar current. In the first place, there are the North European, the Siberian, and North American riversdebouching into the Arctic Sea, to supply this water. The fluvial basinof these rivers is very considerable, comprising a large portion ofNorthern Europe, almost the whole of Northern Asia or Siberia downto the Altai Mountains and Lake Baikal, together with the principalpart of Alaska and British North America. All these added togetherform no unimportant portion of the earth, and the rainfall of thesecountries is enormous. It is not conceivable that the Arctic Sea ofitself could contribute anything of importance to this rainfall; for, in the first place, it is for the most part covered with drift-ice, from which the evaporation is but trifling; and, in the next place, the comparatively low temperature in these regions prevents anyconsiderable evaporation taking place even from open surfaces ofwater. The moisture that produces this rainfall must consequently ina great measure come from elsewhere, principally from the Atlanticand Pacific oceans, and the amount of water which thereby feeds theArctic Sea must be very considerable. If we possessed sufficientknowledge of the rainfall in the different localities it might beexactly calculated. [5]

"The importance of this augmentation appears even greater when weconsider that the polar basin is comparatively small, and, as hasbeen already remarked, very shallow; its greatest known depth beingfrom 60 to 80 fathoms. 

"But there is still another factor that must help to increasethe quantity of water in the polar basin, and that is its ownrainfall. Weyprecht has already pointed out the probability thatthe large influx of warm, moist atmosphere from the south, attractedby the constant low atmospheric pressure in the polar regions, mustengender so large a rainfall as to augment considerably the amountof water in the Polar Sea. Moreover, the fact that the polar basinreceives large supplies of fresh water is proved by the small amountof salt in the water of the polar current. 

"From all these considerations it appears unquestionable that thesea around the Pole is fed with considerable quantities of water, partly fresh, as we have just seen, partly salt, as we indicatedfurther back, proceeding from the different ocean currents. It thusbecomes inevitable, according to the law of equilibrium, that thesemasses of water should seek such an outlet as we find in the Greenlandpolar current. 

"Let us now inquire whether further reasons can be found to show whythis current flows exactly in the given direction. 

"If we examine the ocean soundings, we at once find a conclusive reasonwhy the main outlet must lie between Spitzbergen and Greenland. Thesea here, so far as we know it, is at all points very deep; there is, indeed, a channel of as much as 2500 fathoms depth; while south ofSpitzbergen and Franz Josef Land it is remarkably shallow--not morethan 160 fathoms. As has been stated, a current passes northwardthrough Bering Strait and Smith Sound, and the sounds between theislands north of America, though here, indeed, there is a southwardcurrent, are far too small and narrow to form adequate outlets forthe mass of water of which we are speaking. There is, therefore, no other assumption left than that this mass of water must find itsoutlet by the route actually followed by the polar current. The channeldiscovered by the Jeannette expedition between Wrangel Land and theNew Siberian Islands may here be mentioned as a notable fact. Itextended in a northerly direction, and was at some points more than80 fathoms deep, while at the sides the soundings ran only to 40 or50 fathoms. It is by no means impossible that this channel may be acontinuation of the channel between Spitzbergen and Greenland, [6]in which case it would certainly influence, if not actually determine, the direction of the main current. 

"If we examine the conditions of wind and atmospheric pressure overthe Polar Sea, as far as they are known, it would appear that theymust tend to produce a current across the Pole in the directionindicated. From the Atlantic to the south of Spitzbergen and FranzJosef Land a belt of low atmospheric pressure (minimum belt) extendsinto the Siberian Arctic Sea. In accordance with well-known laws, thewind must have a preponderating direction from west to east on thesouth side of this belt, and this would promote an eastward-flowingcurrent along the north coast of Siberia, such as has been foundto exist there. [7] The winds on the north side of the minimumbelt must, however, blow mainly in a direction from east to west, and will consequently produce a westerly current, passing across thePole towards the Greenland Sea, exactly as we have seen to be the case. 

"It thus appears that, from whatever side we consider this question, even apart from the specially cogent evidences above cited, we cannotescape the conclusion that a current passes across or very near tothe Pole into the sea between Greenland and Spitzbergen. 

"This being so, it seems to me that the plain thing for us to do is tomake our way into the current on that side of the Pole where it flowsnorthward, and by its help to penetrate into those regions which allwho have hitherto worked against it have sought in vain to reach. 

"My plan is, briefly, as follows: I propose to have a ship built assmall and as strong as possible--just big enough to contain suppliesof coals and provisions for twelve men for five years. A ship ofabout 170 tons (gross) will probably suffice. Its engine should bepowerful enough to give a speed of 6 knots; but in addition it mustalso be fully rigged for sailing. 

"The main point in this vessel is that it be built on such principlesas to enable it to withstand the pressure of the ice. The sides mustslope sufficiently to prevent the ice, when it presses together, fromgetting firm hold of the hull, as was the case with the Jeannette andother vessels. Instead of nipping the ship, the ice must raise it upout of the water. No very new departure in construction is likelyto be needed, for the Jeannette, notwithstanding her preposterousbuild, was able to hold out against the ice pressure for about twoyears. That a vessel can easily be built on such lines as to fulfilthese requirements no one will question who has seen a ship nippedby the ice. For the same reason, too, the ship ought to be a smallone; for, besides being thus easier to manoeuvre in the ice, it willbe more readily lifted by the pressure of the ice, not to mentionthat it will be easier to give it the requisite strength. It must, of course, be built of picked materials. A ship of the form and sizehere indicated will not be a good or comfortable sea-boat, but thatis of minor importance in waters filled with ice such as we are herespeaking of. It is true that it would have to travel a long distanceover the open sea before it would get so far, but it would not beso bad a sea-boat as to be unable to get along, even though sea-sickpassengers might have to offer sacrifices to the gods of the sea. 

"With such a ship and a crew of ten, or at the most twelve, able-bodiedand carefully picked men, with a full equipment for five years, inevery respect as good as modern appliances permit of, I am of opinionthat the undertaking would be well secured against risk. With thisship we should sail up through Bering Strait and westward along thenorth coast of Siberia towards the New Siberian Islands [8] as earlyin the summer as the ice would permit. 

"Arrived at the New Siberian Islands, it will be advisable to employthe time to the best advantage in examining the conditions of currentsand ice, and to wait for the most opportune moment to advance asfar as possible in ice-free water, which, judging by the accounts ofthe ice conditions north of Bering Strait given by American whalers, will probably be in August or the beginning of September. 

"When the right time has arrived, then we shall plough our way inamongst the ice as far as we can. We may venture to conclude fromthe experience of the Jeannette expedition that we should thus beable to reach a point north of the most northerly of the New SiberianIslands. De Long notes in his journal that while the expedition wasdrifting in the ice north of Bennett Island they saw all around them adark 'water-sky'--that is to say, a sky which gives a dark reflectionof open water--indicating such a sea as would be, at all events, tosome extent navigable by a strong ice-ship. Next, it must be borne inmind that the whole Jeannette expedition travelled in boats, partlyin open water, from Bennett Island to the Siberian coast, where, aswe know, the majority of them met with a lamentable end. Nordenskiöldadvanced no farther northward than to the southernmost of the islandsmentioned (at the end of August) but here he found the water everywhereopen. 

"It is, therefore, probable that we may be able to push our way uppast the New Siberian Islands, and that accomplished we shall be rightin the current which carried the Jeannette. The thing will then besimply to force our way northward till we are set fast. [9]

"Next we must choose a fitting place and moor the ship firmly betweensuitable ice-floes, and then let the ice screw itself together as muchas it likes--the more the better. The ship will simply be hoisted upand will ride safely and firmly. It is possible it may heel over toa certain extent under this pressure; but that will scarcely be ofmuch importance. . . . Henceforth the current will be our motive power, while our ship, no longer a means of transport, will become a barrack, and we shall have ample time for scientific observations. 

"In this manner the expedition will, as above indicated, probablydrift across the Pole, and onward to the sea between Greenland andSpitzbergen. And when we get down to the 80th degree of latitude, or even sooner, if it is summer, there is every likelihood of ourgetting the ship free and being able to sail home. Should she, however, be lost before this--which is certainly possible, though, as I think, very unlikely if she is constructed in the way abovedescribed--the expedition will not, therefore, be a failure, for ourhomeward course must in any case follow the polar current on to theNorth Atlantic basin; there is plenty of ice to drift on, and of thismeans of locomotion we have already had experience. If the Jeannetteexpedition had had sufficient provisions, and had remained on theice-floe on which the relics were ultimately found, the result woulddoubtless have been very different from what it was. Our ship cannotpossibly founder under the ice-pressure so quickly but that there wouldbe time enough to remove, with all our equipment and provisions, to asubstantial ice-floe, which we should have selected beforehand in viewof such a contingency. Here the tents, which we should take with usto meet this contingency, would be pitched. In order to preserve ourprovisions and other equipments, we should not place them all togetheron one spot, but should distribute them over the ice, laying themon rafts of planks and beams which we should have built on it. Thiswill obviate the possibility of any of our equipments sinking, evenshould the floe on which they are break up. The crew of the Hansa, whodrifted for more than half a year along the east coast of Greenland, in this way lost a great quantity of their supplies. 

"For the success of such an expedition two things only are required, viz. , good clothing and plenty of food, and these we can take careto have with us. We should thus be able to remain as safely on ourice-floe as in our ship, and should advance just as well towards theGreenland Sea. The only difference would be that on our arrival there, instead of proceeding by ship, we must take to our boats, which wouldconvey us just as safely to the nearest harbor. 

"Thus it seems to me there is an overwhelming probability that such anexpedition would be successful. Many people, however, will certainlyurge: 'In all currents there are eddies and backwaters; suppose, then, you get into one of these, or perhaps stumble on an unknown landup by the Pole and remain lying fast there, how will you extricateyourselves?' To this I would merely reply, as concerns the backwater, that we must get out of it just as surely as we got into it, and thatwe shall have provisions for five years. And as regards the otherpossibility, we should hail such an occurrence with delight, for nospot on earth could well be found of greater scientific interest. Onthis newly discovered land we should make as many observations aspossible. Should time wear on and find us still unable to get our shipinto the set of the current again, there would be nothing for it butto abandon her, and with our boats and necessary stores to search forthe nearest current, in order to drift in the manner before mentioned. 

"How long may we suppose such a voyage to occupy? As we have alreadyseen, the relics of the Jeannette expedition at most took two years todrift along the same course down to the 80th degree of latitude, wherewe may, with tolerable certainty, count upon getting loose. This wouldcorrespond to a rate of about two miles per day of twenty-four hours. 

"We may therefore not unreasonably calculate on reaching this point inthe course of two years; and it is also possible that the ship mightbe set free in a higher latitude than is here contemplated. Five years'provisions must therefore be regarded as ample. 

"But is not the cold in winter in these regions so severe that lifewill be impossible? There is no probability of this. We can even saywith tolerable certainty that at the Pole itself it is not so cold inwinter as it is (for example) in the north of Siberia, an inhabitedregion, or on the northern part of the west coast of Greenland, which is also inhabited. Meteorologists have calculated that the meantemperature at the Pole in January is about -33° Fahr. (-36° C), while, for example, in Yakutsk it is -43° Fahr. (-42° C), and in Verkhoyansk-54° Fahr. (-48° C. ). We should remember that the Pole is probablycovered with sea, radiation from which is considerably less than fromlarge land surfaces, such as the plains of North Asia. The polar regionhas, therefore, in all probability a marine climate with comparativelymild winters, but, by way of a set-off, with cold summers. 

"The cold in these regions cannot, then, be any direct obstacle. Onedifficulty, however, which many former expeditions have had to contendagainst, and which must not be overlooked here, is scurvy. Duringa sojourn of any long duration in so cold a climate this maladywill unquestionably show itself unless one is able to obtain freshprovisions. I think, however, it may be safely assumed that the veryvarious and nutritious foods now available in the form of hermeticallyclosed preparations of different kinds, together with the scientificknowledge we now possess of the food-stuffs necessary for bodilyhealth, will enable us to hold this danger at a distance. Nor do Ithink that there will be an entire absence of fresh provisions in thewaters we shall travel through. Polar bears and seals we may safelycalculate on finding far to the north, if not up to the very Pole. Itmay be mentioned also that the sea must certainly contain quantitiesof small animals that might serve as food in case of necessity. 

"It will be seen that whatever difficulties may be suggested aspossible, they are not so great but that they can be surmounted bymeans of a careful equipment, a fortunate selection of the membersof the expedition, and judicious leadership; so that good resultsmay be hoped for. We may reckon on getting out into the sea betweenGreenland and Spitzbergen as surely as we can reckon on getting intothe Jeannette current off the New Siberian Islands. 

"But if this Jeannette current does not pass right across thePole? If, for instance, it passes between the Pole and Franz JosefLand, as above intimated? What will the expedition do in that caseto reach the earth's axis? Yes, this may seem to be the Achilles'heel of the undertaking; for should the ship be carried past thePole at more than one degree's distance it may then appear extremelyimprudent and unsafe to abandon it in mid-current and face such a longsledge-journey over uneven sea-ice, which itself is drifting. Even ifone reached the Pole it would be very uncertain whether one could findthe ship again on returning. . . . I am, however, of opinion that thisis of small import: it is not to seek for the exact mathematical pointthat forms the northern extremity of the earth's axis that we set out, for to reach this point is intrinsically of small moment. Our objectis to investigate the great unknown region that surrounds the Pole, and these investigations will be equally important, from a scientificpoint of view, whether the expedition passes over the polar pointitself or at some distance from it. "

In this lecture I had submitted the most important data on which myplan was founded; but in the following years I continued to studythe conditions of the northern waters, and received ever fresh proofsthat my surmise of a drift right across the Polar Sea was correct. Ina lecture delivered before the Geographical Society in Christiania, on September 28, 1892, I alluded to some of these inquiries. [10] Ilaid stress on the fact that on considering the thickness and extentof the drift-ice in the seas on both sides of the Pole, one cannotbut be struck by the fact that while the ice on the Asiatic side, north of the Siberian coast, is comparatively thin (the ice in whichthe Jeannette drifted was, as a rule, not more than from 7 to 10feet thick), that on the other side, which comes drifting from thenorth in the sea between Greenland and Spitzbergen, is remarkablymassive, and this, notwithstanding that the sea north of Siberia isone of the coldest tracts on the earth. This, I suggested, could beexplained only on the assumption that the ice is constantly driftingfrom the Siberian coast, and that, while passing through the unknownand cold sea there is time for it to attain its enormous thickness, partly by freezing, partly by the constant packing that takes placeas the floes screw themselves together. 

I further mentioned in the same lecture that the mud found on thisdrift-ice seemed to point to a Siberian origin. I did not at the timeattach great importance to this fact, but on a further examinationof the deposits I had collected during my Greenland expeditionit appeared that it could scarcely come from anywhere else butSiberia. On investigating its mineralogical composition, Dr. Törnebohm, of Stockholm, came to the conclusion that the greater part of it mustbe Siberian river mud. He found about twenty different minerals init. "This quantity of dissimilar constituent mineral parts appears tome, " he says, "to point to the fact that they take their origin froma very extensive tract of land, and one's thoughts naturally turn toSiberia. " Moreover, more than half of this mud deposit consisted ofhumus, or boggy soil. More interesting, however, than the actual muddeposit were the diatoms found in it, which were examined by ProfessorCleve, of Upsala, who says: "These diatoms are decidedly marine (i. E. , take their origin from salt-water), with some few fresh-water formswhich the wind has carried from land. The diatomous flora in this dustis quite peculiar, and unlike what I have found in many thousandsof other specimens, with one exception, with which it shows themost complete conformity--namely, a specimen which was collected byKellman during the Vega expedition on an ice-floe off Cape Wankarem, near Bering Strait. Species and varieties were perfectly identicalin both specimens. " Cleve was able to distinguish sixteen speciesof diatoms. All these appear also in the dust from Cape Wankarem, and twelve of them have been found at that place alone, and nowhereelse in all the world. This was a notable coincidence between twosuch remote points, and Cleve is certainly right in saying: "It is, indeed, quite remarkable that the diatomous flora on the ice-floes offBering Strait and on the east coast of Greenland should so completelyresemble each other, and should be so utterly unlike all others;it points to an open connection between the seas east of Greenlandand north of Asia. " "Through this open connection, " I continued inmy address, "drift-ice is, therefore, yearly transported across theunknown Polar Sea. On this same drift-ice, and by the same route, it must be no less possible to transport an expedition. "

When this plan was propounded it certainly met with approval in variousquarters, especially here at home. Thus it was vigorously supportedby Professor Mohn, who, indeed, by his explanation of the drift of theJeannette relics, had given the original impulse to it. But as might beexpected, it met with opposition in the main, especially from abroad, while most of the polar travellers and Arctic authorities declared, more or less openly, that it was sheer madness. The year before weset out, in November, 1892, I laid it before the Geographical Societyin London in a lecture at which the principal Arctic travellers ofEngland were present. After the lecture a discussion took place, [11]which plainly showed how greatly I was at variance with the generallyaccepted opinions as to the conditions in the interior of the PolarSea, the principles of ice navigation, and the methods that a polarexpedition ought to pursue. The eminent Arctic traveller, Admiral SirLeopold M'Clintock, opened the discussion with the remark: "I think Imay say this is the most adventurous programme ever brought under thenotice of the Royal Geographical Society. " He allowed that the factsspoke in favor of the correctness of my theories, but was in a highdegree doubtful whether my plan could be realized. He was especially ofopinion that the danger of being crushed in the ice was too great. Aship could, no doubt, be built that would be strong enough to resistthe ice pressure in summer; but should it be exposed to this pressurein the winter months, when the ice resembled a mountain frozen fastto the ship's side, he thought that the possibility of being forcedup on the surface of the ice was very remote. He firmly believed, as did the majority of the others, that there was no probability ofever seeing the Fram again when once she had given herself over tothe pitiless polar ice, and concluded by saying, "I wish the doctorfull and speedy success. But it will be a great relief to his manyfriends in England when he returns, and more particularly to thosewho have had experience of the dangers at all times inseparable fromice navigation, even in regions not quite so far north. "

Admiral Sir George Nares said:

"The adopted Arctic axioms for successfully navigating an icy regionare that it is absolutely necessary to keep close to a coast line, andthat the farther we advance from civilization, the more desirable itis to insure a reasonably safe line of retreat. Totally disregardingthese, the ruling principle of the voyage is that the vessel--onwhich, if the voyage is in any way successful, the sole futurehope of the party will depend--is to be pushed deliberately intothe pack-ice. Thus, her commander--in lieu of retaining any powerover her future movements--will be forced to submit to be driftedhelplessly about in agreement with the natural movements of the icein which he is imprisoned. Supposing the sea currents are as stated, the time calculated as necessary to drift with the pack across thepolar area is several years, during which time, unless new lands aremet with, the ice near the vessel will certainly never be quiet andthe ship herself never free from the danger of being crushed by icepresses. To guard against this the vessel is said to be unusuallystrong, and of a special form to enable her to rise when the icepresses against her sides. This idea is no novelty whatever; butwhen once frozen into the polar pack the form of the vessel goesfor nothing. She is hermetically sealed to, and forms a part of, theice block surrounding her. The form of the ship is for all practicalpurposes the form of the block of ice in which she is frozen. This isa matter of the first importance, for there is no record of a vesselfrozen into the polar pack having been disconnected from the ice, and so rendered capable of rising under pressure as a separate bodydetached from the ice block, even in the height of summer. In the eventof the destruction of the vessel, the boats--necessarily fully stored, not only for the retreat, but for continuing the voyage--are to beavailable. This is well in theory, but extremely difficult to arrangefor in practice. Preparation to abandon the vessel is the one thingthat gives us the most anxiety. To place boats, etc. , on the ice, packed ready for use, involves the danger of being separated fromthem by a movement of the ice, or of losing them altogether should asudden opening occur. If we merely have everything handy for heavingover the side, the emergency may be so sudden that we have not timeto save anything. . . "

As regards the assumed drift of the polar ice, Nares expressed himselfon the whole at variance with me. He insisted that the drift wasessentially determined by the prevailing winds:

"As to the probable direction of the drift, the Fram, starting fromnear the mouth of the Lena River, may expect to meet the main packnot farther north than about latitude 76° 30'. I doubt her gettingfarther north before she is beset, but taking an extreme case, andgiving her 60 miles more, she will then only be in the same latitude asCape Chelyuskin, 730 miles from the Pole, and about 600 miles from mysupposed limit of the effective homeward-carrying ocean current. Aftera close study of all the information we possess, I think the windwill be more likely to drift her towards the west than towards theeast. With an ice-encumbered sea north of her, and more open water ornewly made ice to the southward, the chances are small for a northerlydrift, at all events, at first, and afterwards I know of no naturalforces that will carry the vessel in any reasonable time much fartherfrom the Siberian coast than the Jeannette was carried, and duringthe whole of this time, unless protected by newly discovered lands, she will be to all intents and purposes immovably sealed up in thepack, and exposed to its well-known dangers. There is no doubt thatthere is an ocean connection across the area proposed to be explored. "

In one point, however, Nares was able to declare himself in agreementwith me. It was the idea "that the principal aim of all such voyagesis to explore the unknown polar regions, not to reach exactly thatmathematical point in which the axis of our globe has its northerntermination. " [12]

Sir Allen Young says, among other things: "Dr. Nansen assumes theblank space around the axis of the earth to be a pool of water or ice;I think the great danger to contend with will be the land in nearlyevery direction near the Pole. Most previous navigators seem to havecontinued seeing land again and again farther and farther north. TheseJeannette relics may have drifted through narrow channels, and thusfinally arrived at their destination, and, I think, it would be anextremely dangerous thing for the ship to drift through them, whereshe might impinge upon the land, and be kept for years. "

With regard to the ship's form, Sir Allen Young says: "I do not thinkthe form of the ship is any great point, for, when a ship is fairlynipped, the question is if there is any swell or movement of the iceto lift the ship. If there is no swell the ice must go through her, whatever material she is made of. "

One or two authorities, however, expressed themselves in favor ofmy plan. One was the Arctic traveller, Sir E. Inglefield, anotherCaptain (now Admiral) Wharton, Director of the Hydrographic Departmentof England. 

In a letter to the Geographical Society, Admiral Sir George H. Richardssays, on the occasion of my address: "I regret to have to speakdiscouragingly of this project, but I think that any one who can speakwith authority ought to speak plainly where so much may be at stake. "

With regard to the currents, he says: "I believe there is a constantoutflow (I prefer this word to current) from the north, in consequenceof the displacement of the water from the region of the Pole by theice-cap which covers it, intensified in its density by the enormousweight of snow accumulated on its surface. " This outflow takes placeon all sides, he thinks, from the polar basin, but should be mostpronounced in the tract between the western end of the Parry Islandsand Spitzbergen; and with this outflow all previous expeditions havehad to contend. He does not appear to make any exception as to theTegethoff or Jeannette, and can find no reason "for believing thata current sets north over the Pole from the New Siberian Islands, which Dr. Nansen hopes for and believes in. . . . It is my opinionthat when really within what may be called the inner circle, sayabout 78° of latitude, there is little current of any kind that wouldinfluence a ship in the close ice that must be expected; it is whenwe get outside this circle--round the corners, as it were--into thestraight wide channels, where the ice is loose, that we are reallyaffected by its influence, and here the ice gets naturally thinner, and more decayed in autumn, and less dangerous to a ship. Within theinner circle probably not much of the ice escapes; it becomes olderand heavier every year, and in all probability completely blocks thenavigation of ships entirely. This is the kind of ice which was broughtto Nares's winter quarters at the head of Smith Sound in about 82°30' north; and this is the ice which Markham struggled against inhis sledge journey, and against which no human power could prevail. "

He attached "no real importance" to the Jeannette relics. "If foundin Greenland, they may well have drifted down on a floe from theneighborhood of Smith Sound, from some of the American expeditionswhich went to Greely's rescue. " "It may also well be that some ofDe Long's printed or written documents in regard to his equipmentmay have been taken out by these expeditions, and the same may applyto the other articles. " He does not, however, expressly say whetherthere was any indication of such having been the case. 

In a similar letter to the Geographical Society the renowned botanistSir Joseph Hooker says: "Dr. Nansen's project is a wide departurefrom any hitherto put in practice for the purpose of polar discovery, and it demands the closest scrutiny both on this account, and becauseit is one involving the greatest peril. . . 

"From my experience of three seasons in the Antarctic regions I do notthink that a ship, of whatever build, could long resist destruction ifcommitted to the movements of the pack in the polar regions. One builtas strongly as the Fram would no doubt resist great pressures in theopen pack, but not any pressure or repeated pressures, and still lessthe thrust of the pack if driven with or by it against land. The linesof the Fram might be of service so long as she was on an even keel orin ice of no great height above the water-line; but amongst floes andbergs, or when thrown on her beam-ends, they would avail her nothing. "

If the Fram were to drift towards the Greenland coast or the Americanpolar islands he is of opinion that, supposing a landing could beeffected, there would be no probability at all of salvation. Assumingthat a landing could be effected, it must be on an inhospitable andprobably ice-bound coast, or on the mountainous ice of a palæocrysticsea. With a certainly enfeebled, and probably reduced ship's company, there could, in such a case, be no prospect of reaching succor. Puttingaside the possibility of scurvy (against which there is no certainprophylactic), have the depressing influence on the minds of the crewresulting from long confinement in very close quarters during manymonths of darkness, extreme cold, inaction, ennui, constant peril, and the haunting uncertainty as to the future, been sufficientlytaken into account? Perfunctory duties and occupations do not avertthe effects of these conditions; they hardly mitigate them, and havebeen known to aggravate them. I do not consider the attainment ofDr. Nansen's object by the means at his disposal to be impossible;but I do consider that the success of such an enterprise would notjustify the exposure of valuable lives for its attainment. 

In America, General Greely, the leader of the ill-fated expeditiongenerally known by his name (1881-84), wrote an article in The Forum(August, 1891), in which he says, among other things: "It strikesme as almost incredible that the plan here advanced by Dr. Nansenshould receive encouragement or support. It seems to me to be basedon fallacious ideas as to physical conditions within the polarregions, and to foreshadow, if attempted, barren results, apartfrom the suffering and death among its members. Dr. Nansen, so faras I know, has had no Arctic service; his crossing of Greenland, however difficult, is no more polar work than the scaling ofMount St. Elias. It is doubtful if any hydrographer would treatseriously his theory of polar currents, or if any Arctic travellerwould indorse the whole scheme. There are perhaps a dozen men whoseArctic service has been such that the positive support of this planby even a respectable minority would entitle it to consideration andconfidence. These men are: Admiral M'Clintock, Richards, Collinson, and Nares, and Captain Markham of the Royal Navy, Sir Allen Youngand Leigh-Smith of England, Koldewey of Germany, Payer of Austria, Nordenskiöld of Sweden, and Melville in our own country. I have nohesitation in asserting that no two of these believe in the possibilityof Nansen's first proposition--to build a vessel capable of livingor navigating in a heavy Arctic pack, into which it is proposedto put his ship. The second proposition is even more hazardous, involving as it does a drift of more than 2000 miles in a straightline through an unknown region, during which the party in its voyage(lasting two or more years, we are told) would take only boats along, encamp on an iceberg, and live there while floating across. "

After this General Greely proceeds to prove the falsity of all myassumptions. Respecting the objects from the Jeannette, he says plainlythat he does not believe in them. "Probably some drift articles werefound, " he says, "and it would seem more reasonable to trace themto the Porteus, which was wrecked in Smith Sound, about 1000 milesnorth of Julianehaab. . . It is further important to note that, if thearticles were really from the Jeannette, the nearest route would havebeen, not across the North Pole along the east coast of Greenland, but down Kennedy Channel and by way of Smith Sound and Baffin's Bay, as was suggested, as to drift from the Porteus. "

We could not possibly get near the Pole itself by a long distance, saysGreely, as "we know almost as well as if we had seen it that there isin the unknown regions an extensive land which is the birthplace of theflat-topped icebergs or the palæocrystic ice. " In this glacier-coveredland, which he is of opinion must be over 300 miles in diameter, andwhich sends out icebergs to Greenland as well as to Franz Josef Land, [13] the Pole itself must be situated. 

"As to the indestructible ship, " he says, "it is certainly a mostdesirable thing for Dr. Nansen. " His meaning, however, is that itcannot be built. "Dr. Nansen appears to believe that the question ofbuilding on such lines as will give the ship the greatest power ofresistance to the pressure of the ice-floe has not been thoroughly andsatisfactorily solved, although hundreds of thousands of dollars havebeen spent for this end by the seal and whaling companies of Scotlandand Newfoundland. " As an authority he quotes Melville, and says "everyArctic navigator of experience agrees with Melville's dictum that evenif built solid a vessel could not withstand the ice-pressure of theheavy polar pack. " To my assertion that the ice along the "Siberiancoast is comparatively thin, 7 to 10 feet, " he again quotes Melville, who speaks of ice "50 feet high, etc. " (something we did not discover, by-the-way, during the whole of our voyage). 

After giving still more conclusive proofs that the Fram must inevitablygo to the bottom as soon as it should be exposed to the pressure ofthe ice, he goes on to refer to the impossibility of drifting in theice with boats. And he concludes his article with the remark that"Arctic exploration is sufficiently credited with rashness and dangerin its legitimate and sanctioned methods, without bearing the burdenof Dr. Nansen's illogical scheme of self-destruction. "

From an article Greely wrote after our return home, in Harper's Weeklyfor September 19th, 1896, he appears to have come to the conclusionthat the Jeannette relics were genuine and that the assumption oftheir drift may have been correct, mentioning "Melville, Dall, andothers" as not believing in them. He allows also that my scheme hasbeen carried out in spite of what he had said. This time he concludesthe article as follows: "In contrasting the expeditions of De Long andNansen, it is necessary to allude to the single blemish that mars theotherwise magnificent career of Nansen, who deliberately quitted hiscomrades on the ice-beset ship hundreds of miles from any known land, with the intention of not returning, but, in his own reported words, 'to go to Spitzbergen, where he felt certain to find a ship, ' 600miles away. De Long and Ambler had such a sense of honor that theysacrificed their lives rather than separate themselves from a dyingman, whom their presence could not save. It passes comprehension howNansen could have thus deviated from the most sacred duty devolving onthe commander of a naval expedition. The safe return of brave CaptainSverdrup with the Fram does not excuse Nansen. Sverdrup's consistency, courage, and skill in holding fast to the Fram and bringing hiscomrades back to Norway will win for him, in the minds of many, laurels even brighter than those of his able and accomplished chief. "

One of the few who publicly gave to my plan the support of hisscientific authority was Professor Supan, the well-known editorof Petermann's Mitteilungen. In an article in this journal for 1891(p. 191), he not only spoke warmly in its favor, but supported it withnew suggestions. His view was that what he terms the Arctic "wind-shed"probably for the greater part of the year divides the unknown polarbasin into two parts. In the eastern part the prevailing winds blowtowards the Bering Sea, while those of the western part blow towardsthe Atlantic. He thought that, as a rule, this "wind-shed" must lienear the Bering Sea, and that the prevailing winds in the tracts wepurposed traversing would thus favor our drift. Our experience boreout Professor Supan's theory in a remarkable degree. 

CHAPTER II

PREPARATIONS AND EQUIPMENT

Foolhardy as the scheme appeared to some, it received powerful supportfrom the Norwegian Government and the King of Norway. A bill waslaid before the Storthing for a grant of £11, 250 (200, 000 kroner), or two-thirds of the estimated cost. The remaining third I hopedto be able to raise from private sources, as I had already receivedpromises of support from many quarters. 

On June 30, 1890, the amount demanded was voted by the Storthing, which thereby expressed its wish that the expedition should be aNorwegian one. In January, 1891, Mr. Thomas Fearnley, Consul AxelHeiberg, and Mr. Ellef Ringnes set to work to collect the furthersum required, and in a few days the amount was subscribed. 

His Majesty King Oscar gave £1125 (20, 000 kroner), while privateindividuals in Norway gave as follows:

 £ s. D. 

Consul Axel Heiberg 562 10 0 Ditto (later) 393 15 0Mr. Anton Chr. Houen 1125 0 0Mr. A. Dick, Hövik 281 5 0 Ditto (later) 393 15 0Mr. Thomas Fearnley (merchant) 281 5 0 Ditto (later) 56 5 0Messrs. Ringnes & Co. (brewers) 281 5 0 Ditto (later) 56 5 0Mr. A. S. Kjösterud (merchant), Drammen 281 5 0 Ditto (later) 56 5 0Mr. E. Sundt (merchant), Bergen 281 5 0Consul Westye Egeberg 562 10 0Mr. Halver Schou 281 5 0Baron Harald Wedel Jarlsberg and C. Iövenskiold, Minister of State 562 10 0Consul Nicolay H. Knudtzon, Christiansund 281 5 0

Among foreign contributors may be mentioned the Royal GeographicalSociety of London, which showed its sympathy with the undertaking bysubscribing £300 sterling. Baron Oscar Dickson provided at his owncost the electric installation (dynamo accumulators, and conductors). 

As the work of equipment proceeded, it appeared that the first estimatewas not sufficient. This was especially due to the ship, which wasestimated to cost £8437 10s. (150, 000 kroner), but which came tonearly double that sum. Where so much was at stake, I did not thinkit right to study the cost too much, if it seemed that a little extraoutlay could insure the successful result of the expedition. The threegentlemen who had taken the lead in the first collection, Mr. ThomasFearnley, Consul Axel Heiberg, and Mr. Ellef Ringnes, undertook at myrequest to constitute themselves the committee of the expedition andto take charge of its pecuniary affairs. In order to cover a portionof the deficiency, they, together with certain members of the Councilof the Geographical Society, set on foot another private subscriptionall over the country, while the same society at a later period headeda national subscription. By these means about £956 5s. Was collectedin all. I had further to petition the Norwegian Storthing for anadditional sum of £4500, when our national assembly again gave proofof its sympathy with the undertaking by granting the amount named(June 9, 1890). 

Finally Consul Axel Heiberg and Mr. Dick subscribed an additional £33710s. Each, while I myself made up the deficiency that still remainedon the eve of our departure. 

Statement of Accounts of the Expedition on its Setting Out, 1893. 

Income. 

 Kroner ore. State Grant 280, 000 0H. M. The King, and original private subscribers 105, 000 0Private subscription of the Geographical Society 12, 781 23National subscription 2, 287 23Interest accrued 9, 729 78Guaranteed by private individuals 5, 400 0Deficit covered by A. Heiberg and A. Dick 12, 000 0 Ditto F. Nansen 5, 400 0Geographical Society, London (£300) . . . H. Simon, Manchester (£100) . . . A Norwegian in Riga (1000 roubles) and others . 9, 278 62 ------------ Total 444, 339 36 [14]

Expenditure. 

 Kroner ore. 

Wages account 46, 440 0Life insurance premiums of married participators 5, 361 90Instruments account 12, 978 68Ship account 271, 927 8Provisions account 39, 172 98Expenses account 10, 612 38Equipment account 57, 846 34 ------------ Total 444, 339 36

It will be evident from the plan above expounded that the mostimportant point in the equipment of our expedition was the buildingof the ship that was to carry us through the dreaded ice regions. Theconstruction of this vessel was accordingly carried out with greatercare, probably, than has been devoted to any ship that has hithertoploughed the Arctic waters. I found in the well-known shipbuilder, Colin Archer, a man who thoroughly understood the task I set him, and who concentrated all his skill, foresight, and rare thoroughnessupon the work. We must gratefully recognize that the success of theexpedition was in no small degree due to this man. 

If we turn our attention to the long list of former expeditionsand to their equipments, it cannot but strike us that scarcely asingle vessel had been built specially for the purpose--in fact, the majority of explorers have not even provided themselves withvessels which were originally intended for ice navigation. This isthe more surprising when we remember the sums of money that have beenlavished on the equipment of some of these expeditions. The fact is, they have generally been in such a hurry to set out that there hasbeen no time to devote to a more careful equipment. In many cases, indeed, preparations were not begun until a few months before theexpedition sailed. The present expedition, however, could not beequipped in so short a time, and if the voyage itself took three years, the preparations took no less time, while the scheme was conceivedthrice three years earlier. 

Plan after plan did Archer make of the projected ship; one modelafter another was prepared and abandoned. 

Fresh improvements were constantly being suggested. The form werefinally adhered to may seem to many people by no means beautiful; butthat it is well adapted to the ends in view I think our expeditionhas fully proved. What was especially aimed at was, as mentionedon page 29, to give the ship such sides that it could readily behoisted up during ice-pressure without being crushed between thefloes. Greely, Nares, etc. , etc. , are certainly right in saying thatthis is nothing new. I relied here simply on the sad experiences ofearlier expeditions. What, however, may be said to be new is the factthat we not only realized that the ship ought to have such a form, but that we gave it that form, as well as the necessary strength forresisting great ice-pressure, and that this was the guiding ideain the whole work of construction. Colin Archer is quite right inwhat he says in an article in the Norsk Tidsskrift for Sövæsen, 1892:"When one bears in mind what is, so to speak, the fundamental idea ofDr. Nansen's plan in his North Pole Expedition . . . It will readily beseen that a ship which is to be built with exclusive regard to itssuitability for this object must differ essentially from any otherpreviously known vessel. . . . 

"In the construction of the ship two points must be especiallystudied: (1) that the shape of the hull be such as to offer as smalla vulnerable target as possible to the attacks of the ice; and (2)that it be built so solidly as to be able to withstand the greatestpossible pressure from without in any direction whatsoever. "

And thus she was built, more attention being paid to making her asafe and warm stronghold while drifting in the ice than to endowingher with speed or good sailing qualities. 

As above stated, our aim was to make the ship as small as possible. Thereason of this was that a small ship is, of course, lighter than alarge one, and can be made stronger in proportion to her weight. Asmall ship, too, is better adapted for navigation among the ice; it iseasier to handle her in critical moments, and to find a safe berth forher between the packing ice-floes. I was of opinion that a vessel of170 tons register would suffice, but the Fram is considerably larger, 402 tons gross and 307 tons net. It was also our aim to build a shortvessel, which could thread her way easily among the floes, especiallyas great length would have been a source of weakness when ice-pressureset in. But in order that such a ship, which has, moreover, verysloping sides, shall possess the necessary carrying capacity, shemust be broad; and her breadth is, in fact, about a third of herlength. Another point of importance was to make the sides as smoothas possible, without projecting edges, while plane surfaces were asmuch as possible avoided in the neighborhood of the most vulnerablepoints, and the hull assumed a plump and rounded form. Bow, stern, and keel--all were rounded off so that the ice should not be able toget a grip of her anywhere. For this reason, too, the keel was sunkin the planking, so that barely three inches protruded, and its edgeswere rounded. The object was that "the whole craft should be able toslip like an eel out of the embraces of the ice. "

The hull was made pointed fore and aft, and somewhat resembles apilot-boat, minus the keel and the sharp garboard strakes. Both endswere made specially strong. The stem consists of three stout oak beams, one inside the other, forming an aggregate thickness of 4 feet (1. 25m. ) of solid oak; inside the stem are fitted solid breasthooks of oakand iron to bind the ship's sides together, and from these breasthooksstays are placed against the pawl-bit. The bow is protected by aniron stem, and across it are fitted transverse bars which run somesmall distance backwards on either side, as is usual in sealers. 

The stern is of a special and somewhat particular construction. Oneither side of the rudder and propeller posts--which are sided 24inches (65 cm. )--is fitted a stout oak counter-timber followingthe curvature of the stern right up to the upper deck, and forming, so to speak, a double stern-post. The planking is carried outsidethese timbers, and the stern protected by heavy iron plates wroughtoutside the planking. 

Between these two counter-timbers there is a well for the screw, and also one for the rudder, through which they can both be hoistedup on deck. It is usual in sealers to have the screw arranged in thisway, so that it can easily be replaced by a spare screw should it bebroken by the ice. But such an arrangement is not usual in the caseof the rudder, and, while with our small crew, and with the helpof the capstan, we could hoist the rudder on deck in a few minutesin case of any sudden ice-pressure or the like, I have known it takesealers with a crew of over 60 men several hours, or even a whole day, to ship a fresh rudder. 

The stern is, on the whole, the Achilles' heel of ships in the PolarSeas; here the ice can easily inflict great damage, for instance, by breaking the rudder. To guard against this danger, our rudder wasplaced so low down as not to be visible above water, so that if afloe should strike the vessel aft, it would break its force againstthe strong stern-part, and could hardly touch the rudder itself. Asa matter of fact, notwithstanding the violent pressures we met with, we never suffered any injury in this respect. 

Everything was of course done to make the sides of the ship as strongas possible. The frame timbers were of choice Italian oak that hadoriginally been intended for the Norwegian navy, and had lain undercover at Horten for 30 years. They were all grown to shape, and10-11 inches thick. The frames were built in two courses or tiers, closely wrought together, and connected by bolts, some of which wereriveted. Over each joint flat iron bands were placed. The frameswere about 21 inches (56 cm. ) wide, and were placed close together, with only about an inch or an inch and a half between; and theseinterstices were filled with pitch and sawdust mixed, from the keelto a little distance above the water-line, in order to keep the shipmoderately water-tight, even should the outer skin be chafed through. 

The outside planking consists of three layers. The inner one isof oak, 3 inches thick, fastened with spikes and carefully calked;outside this another oak sheathing, 4 inches thick, fastened withthrough bolts and calked; and outside these comes the ice-skin ofgreenheart, which like the other planking runs right down to thekeel. At the water-line it is 6 inches thick, gradually diminishingtowards the bottom to 3 inches. It is fastened with nails and jaggedbolts, and not with through bolts; so that if the ice had strippedoff the whole of the ice sheathing the hull of the ship would nothave suffered any great damage. The lining inside the frame timbersis of pitch-pine planks, some 4, some 8 inches thick; it was alsocarefully calked once or twice. 

The total thickness of the ship's sides is, therefore, from 24 to 28inches of solid water-tight wood. It will readily be understood thatsuch a ship's side, with its rounded form, would of itself offer avery good resistance to the ice; but to make it still stronger theinside was shored up in every possible way, so that the hold lookslike a cobweb of balks, stanchions, and braces. In the first place, there are two rows of beams, the upper deck and between decks, principally of solid oak, partly also of pitch pine; and all ofthese are further connected with each other, as well as with thesides of the ship, by numerous supports. The accompanying diagramswill show how they are arranged. The diagonal stays are, of course, placed as nearly as possible at right angles to the sides of the ship, so as to strengthen them against external pressure and to distributeits force. The vertical stanchions between both tiers of beams andbetween the lower beams and keelson are admirably adapted for thislatter object. All are connected together with strong knees and ironfastenings, so that the whole becomes, as it were, a single coherentmass. It should be borne in mind that, while in former expeditionsit was thought sufficient to give a couple of beams amidships someextra strengthening, every single cross beam in the Fram was stayedin the manner described and depicted. 

In the engine-room there was, of course, no space for supports in themiddle, but in their place two stay ends were fixed on either side. Thebeams of the lower deck were placed a little under the water-line, where the ice pressure would be severest. In the after-hold thesebeams had to be raised a little to give room for the engine. Theupper deck aft, therefore, was somewhat higher than the main deck, and the ship had a poop or half-deck, under which were the cabins forall the members of the expedition, and also the cooking-galley. Strongiron riders were worked in for the whole length of the ship in thespaces between the beams, extending in one length from the clampunder the upper deck nearly to the keelson. The keelson was in twotiers and about 31 inches (80 cm. ) high, save in the engine-room, where the height of the room only allows one tier. The keel consistsof two heavy American elm logs 14 inches square; but, as has beenmentioned, so built in that only 3 inches protrude below the outerplanking. The sides of the hull are rounded downward to the keel, sothat a transverse section at the midship frame reminds one forciblyof half a cocoanut cut in two. The higher the ship is lifted out ofthe water, the heavier does she, of course, become, and the greaterher pressure on the ice, but for the above reason the easier alsodoes it become for the ice to lift. To obviate much heeling, incase the hull should be lifted very high, the bottom was made flat, and this proved to be an excellent idea. I endeavored to determineexperimentally the friction of ice against wood, and taking intoaccount the strength of the ship, and the angle of her sides with thesurface of the water, I came to the conclusion that her strength mustbe many times sufficient to withstand the pressure necessary to lifther. This calculation was amply borne out by experience. 

The principal dimensions of the ship were as follows: Length of keel, 102 feet; length of water-line, 113 feet; length from stem to sternon deck, 128 feet; extreme breadth, 36 feet; breadth of water-line, exclusive of ice-skin, 34 feet; depth, 17 feet; draught of water withlight cargo, 12 1/2 feet; displacement with light cargo, 530 tons;with heavy cargo the draught is over 15 feet and the displacement is800 tons; there is a freeboard of about 3 feet 6 inches. The hull, with boilers filled, was calculated to weigh about 420 tons, and with800 tons displacement there should, therefore, be spare carrying powerfor coal and other cargo to the amount of 380 tons. Thus, in additionto the requisite provisions for dogs and men for more than five years, we could carry coal for four months' steaming at full speed, whichwas more than sufficient for such an expedition as this. 

As regards the rigging, the most important object was to have it assimple and as strong as possible, and at the same time so contrivedas to offer the least possible resistance to the wind while the shipwas under steam. With our small crew it was, moreover, of the lastimportance that it should be easy to work from deck. For this reasonthe Fram was rigged as a three-masted fore-and-aft schooner. Severalof our old Arctic skippers disapproved of this arrangement. Theyhad always been used to sail with square-rigged ships, and, with theconservatism peculiar to their class, were of opinion that what theyhad used was the only thing that could be used in the ice. However, the rig we chose was unquestionably the best for our purpose. Inaddition to the ordinary fore-and-aft sails we had two movable yardson the foremast for a square foresail and topsail. As the yards wereattached to a sliding truss they could easily be hauled down when notin use. The ship's lower masts were tolerably high and massive. Themainmast was about 80 feet high, the maintopmast was 50 feet high, and the crow's-nest on the top was about 102 feet (32 m. ) above thewater. It was important to have this as high as possible, so as tohave a more extended view when it came to picking our way throughthe ice. The aggregate sail area was about 6000 square feet. 

The ship's engine, a triple expansion, was made with particularcare. The work was done at the Akers Mechanical Factory, and EngineerNorbeck deserves especial credit for its construction. With hisquick insight he foresaw the various possibilities that might occur, and took precautions against them. The triple-expansion system waschosen as being the most economical in the consumption of coal;but as it might happen that one or other of the cylinders shouldget out of order, it was arranged, by means of separate pipes, thatany of the cylinders could be cut off, and thus the other two, or, at a pinch, even one alone, could be used. In this way the engine, by the mere turning of a cock or two, could be changed at will into acompound high-pressure or low-pressure engine. Although nothing everwent wrong with any of the cylinders, this arrangement was frequentlyused with advantage. By using the engine as a compound one, we could, for instance, give the Fram greater speed for a short time, and whenoccasion demanded we often took this means of forcing our way throughthe ice. The engine was of 220 indicated horse-power, and we couldin calm weather with a light cargo attain a speed of 6 or 7 knots. 

The propellers, of which we had two in reserve, were two-bladed, andmade of cast-iron; but we never used either the spare propellers ora spare rudder which we had with us. 

Our quarters lay, as before mentioned, abaft under the half-deck, and were arranged so that the saloon, which formed our dining-roomand drawing-room, was in the middle, surrounded on all sides by thesleeping-cabins. These consisted of four state-rooms with one berthapiece and two with four berths. The object of this arrangementwas to protect the saloon from external cold; but, further, theceiling, floors, and walls were covered with several thick coatings ofnon-conducting material, the surface layer, in touch with the heat ofthe cabin, consisting of air-tight linoleum, to prevent the warm, dampair from penetrating to the other side and depositing moisture, whichwould soon turn to ice. The sides of the ship were lined with tarredfelt, then came a space with cork padding, next a deal panelling, then a thick layer of felt, next air-tight linoleum, and last of allan inner panelling. The ceiling of the saloon and cabins consistedof many different layers: air, felt, deal panelling, reindeer-hairstuffing, deal panelling, linoleum, air and deal panelling, which, with the 4-inch deck planks, gave a total thickness of about 15inches. To form the floor of the saloon, cork padding, 6 or 7 inchesthick, was laid on the deck planks, on this a thick wooden floor, andabove all linoleum. The skylight which was most exposed to the coldwas protected by three panes of glass, one within the other, and invarious other ways. One of the greatest difficulties of life on boardship which former Arctic expeditions had had to contend with was thatmoisture collecting on the cold outside walls either froze at once orran down in streams into the berths and on to the floor. Thus it wasnot unusual to find the mattresses converted into more or less solidmasses of ice. We, however, by these arrangements, entirely avoidedsuch an unpleasant state of things, and when the fire was lighted inthe saloon there was not a trace of moisture on the walls, even inthe sleeping-cabins. In front of the saloon lay the cook's galley, on either side of which was a companion leading to the deck. 

As a protection against the cold, each of these companion-ways wasfitted with four small solid doors consisting of several layers ofwood with felt between, all of which had to be passed through on goingout. And the more completely to exclude the cold air the thresholdsof the doors were made more than ordinarily high. On the half-deckover the cook's galley, between the mainmast and the funnel, was achart-room facing the bow, and a smaller work-room abaft. 

In order to secure the safety of the ship in case of a leak, the hold was divided into three compartments by water-tightbulkheads. Besides the usual pumps, we had a powerful centrifugalpump driven by the engine, which could be connected with each ofthe three compartments. It may be mentioned as an improvement onformer expeditions that the Fram was furnished with an electric lightinstallation. The dynamo was to be driven by the engine while we wereunder steam; while the intention was to drive it partly by means ofthe wind, partly by hand power, during our sojourn in the ice. Forthis purpose we took a windmill with us, and also a "horse-mill"to be worked by ourselves. I had anticipated that this latter mighthave been useful in giving us exercise in the long polar night. Wefound, however, that there were plenty of other things to do, andwe never used it; on the other hand, the windmill proved extremelyserviceable. For illumination when we might not have enough power toproduce electric light, we took with us about 16 tons of petroleum, which was also intended for cooking purposes and for warming thecabins. This petroleum, as well as 20 tons of common kerosene, [15] intended to be used along with coal in the boiler, was storedin massive iron tanks, eight of which were in the hold, and one ondeck. In all, the ship had eight boats, two of which were especiallylarge, 29 feet long and 9 feet wide. These were intended for usein case the ship should, after all, be lost, the idea being thatwe should live in them while drifting in the ice. They were largeenough to accommodate the whole ship's company with provisions formany months. Then there were four smaller boats of the form sealersgenerally use. They were exceedingly strong and lightly built, twoof oak and two of elm. The seventh boat was a small pram, and theeighth a launch with a petroleum engine, which, however, was not veryserviceable, and caused us a great deal of trouble. 

As I shall have frequent occasion later on to speak of other detailsof our equipment, I shall content myself here with mentioning a fewof the most important. 

Special attention was, of course, devoted to our commissariat witha view to obviating the danger of scurvy and other ailments. Theprinciple on which I acted in the choice of provisions was to combinevariety with wholesomeness. Every single article of food was chemicallyanalyzed before being adopted, and great care was taken that it shouldbe properly packed. Such articles, even, as bread, dried vegetables, etc. , etc. , were soldered down in tins as a protection against damp. 

A good library was of great importance to an expedition like ours, and thanks to publishers and friends, both in our own and in othercountries, we were very well supplied in this respect. 

The instruments for taking scientific observations of course formedan important part of our equipment, and special care was bestowedupon them. In addition to the collection of instruments I had used onmy Greenland expedition, a great many new ones were provided, and nopains were spared to get them as good and complete as possible. Formeteorological observations, in addition to the ordinary thermometers, barometers, aneroids, psychrometers, hygrometers, anemometers, etc. , etc. , self-registering instruments were also taken. Of specialimportance were a self-registering aneroid barometer (barograph)and a pair of self-registering thermometers (thermographs). Forastronomical observations we had a large theodolite and two smallerones, intended for use on sledge expeditions, together with severalsextants of different sizes. We had, moreover, four ship's chronometersand several pocket-chronometers. For magnetic observations, for takingthe declination, inclination, and intensity (both horizontal and totalintensity) we had a complete set of instruments. Among others may bementioned a spectroscope especially adapted for the northern lights, an electroscope for determining the amount of electricity in the air, photographic apparatuses, of which we had seven, large and small, and a photographometer for making charts. I considered a pendulumapparatus with its adjuncts to be of special importance to enableus to make pendulum experiments in the far north. To do this, however, land was necessary, and, as we did not find any, thisinstrument unfortunately did not come into use. For hydrographicobservations we took a full equipment of water-samplers, deep-waterthermometers, etc. To ascertain the saltness of the water, we had, in addition to the ordinary areometers, an electric apparatusspecially constructed by Mr. Thornöe. Altogether, our scientificequipment was especially excellent, thanks in great measure to theobliging assistance rendered me by many men of science. I would takethis opportunity of tendering my special thanks to Professor Mohn, who, besides seeing to the meteorological instruments, helped me inmany other ways with his valuable advice; to Professor Geelmuyden, who undertook the supervision of the astronomical instruments; toDr. Neumeyer, of Hamburg, who took charge of the magnetic equipment;and to Professor Otto Petterson, of Stockholm, and Mr. Thornöe, ofChristiania, both of whom superintended the hydrographic department. Ofno less importance were the physiologico-medicinal preparations, to which Professor Torup devoted particular care. 

As it might be of the utmost importance in several contingencies tohave good sledge-dogs, I applied to my friend, Baron Edward von Toll, of St. Petersburg, and asked him whether it was possible to procureserviceable animals from Siberia. [16] With great courtesy Von Tollreplied that he thought he himself could arrange this for me, as hewas just on the point of undertaking his second scientific expeditionto Siberia and the New Siberian Islands. He proposed to send thedogs to Khabarova, on Yugor Strait. On his journey through Tiumen inJanuary, 1893, by the help of an English merchant named Wardroper, who resided there, he engaged Alexander Ivanovitch Trontheim toundertake the purchase of thirty Ostiak dogs and their conveyance toYugor Strait. But Von Toll was not content with this. Mr. NikolaiKelch having offered to bear the expense, my friend procured theEast Siberian dogs, which are acknowledged to be better draughtdogs than those of West Siberia (Ostiak dogs), and Johan Torgersen, a Norwegian, undertook to deliver them at the mouth of the Olenek, where it was arranged that we should touch. 

Von Toll, moreover, thought it would be important to establish somedepots of provisions on the New Siberian Islands, in case the Framshould meet with disaster and the expedition should be obliged toreturn home that way. On Von Toll's mentioning this, Kelch at onceexpressed himself willing to bear the cost, as he wished us in thatevent to meet with Siberian hospitality even on the New SiberianIslands. As it was difficult to find trustworthy agents to carry out atask involving so much responsibility, Von Toll determined to establishthe depots himself, and in May, 1893, he set out on an adventurousand highly interesting journey from the mainland over the ice to theNew Siberian Islands, where, besides laying down three depots for us, [17] he made some very important geological researches. 

Another important matter, I thought, was to have a cargo of coalsent out as far as possible on our route, so that when we broke offall connection with the rest of the world we should have on board theFram as much coal as she could carry. I therefore joyfully accepted anoffer from an Englishman, who was to accompany us with his steam-yachtto Novaya Zemlya or the Kara Sea and give us 100 tons of coal onparting company. As our departure was drawing nigh I learnt, however, that other arrangements had been made. It being now too late to takeany other measures, I chartered the sloop Urania, of Brönösund, inNordland, to bring a cargo of coals to Khabarova, on the Yugor Strait. 

No sooner did the plan of my expedition become known than petitionspoured in by the hundred from all quarters of the earth--from Europe, America, Australia--from persons who wished to take part in it, in spite of the many warning voices that had been raised. It wasno easy thing to choose among all the brave men who applied. As amatter of course, it was absolutely essential that every man shouldbe strong and healthy, and not one was finally accepted till he hadbeen carefully examined by Professor Hialmar Heiberg, of Christiania. 

The following is a list of the members of the expedition:

Otto Neumann Sverdrup, commander of the Fram, was born in Bindal, in Helgeland, 1855. At the age of seventeen he went to sea, passedhis mate's examination in 1878, and for some years was captain of aship. In 1888-89 he took part in the Greenland expedition. As soon ashe heard of the plan of the polar expedition he expressed his desireto accompany it, and I knew that I could not place the Fram in betterhands. He is married, and has one child. 

Sigurd Scott-Hansen, first lieutenant in the navy, undertookthe management of the meteorological, astronomical, and magneticobservations. He was born in Christiania in 1868. After passingthrough the naval school at Horten, he became an officer in 1889, and first lieutenant in 1892. He is a son of Andreas Hansen, parishpriest in Christiania. 

Henrik Greve Blessing, doctor and botanist to the expedition, was bornin Drammen in 1866, where his father was at that time a clergyman. Hebecame a student in 1885, and graduated in medicine in the springof 1893. 

Theodore Claudius Jacobsen, mate of the Fram, was born at Tromsö in1855, where his father was a ship's captain, afterwards harbor-masterand head pilot. At the age of fifteen he went to sea, and passed hismate's examination four years later. He spent two years in New Zealand, and from 1886-90 he went on voyages to the Arctic Sea as skipper ofa Tromsö sloop. He is married, and has one child. 

Anton Amundsen, chief engineer of the Fram, was born at Horten in1853. In 1884 he passed his technical examination, and soon afterwardshis engineer's examination. For twenty-five years he has been in thenavy, where he attained the rank of chief engineer. He is married, and has six children. 

Adolf Juell, steward and cook of the Fram, was born in the parish ofSkåtö, near Kragerö, in 1860. His father, Claus Nielsen, was a farmerand ship-owner. In 1879 he passed his mate's examination, and has beencaptain of a ship many years. He is married, and has four children. 

Lars Pettersen, second engineer of the Fram, was born in 1860, atBorre, near Landskrona, in Sweden, of Norwegian parents. He is afully qualified smith and machinist, in which capacity he has servedin the Norwegian navy for several years. Is married, and has children. 

Frederik Hjalmar Johansen, lieutenant in the Reserve, was born atSkien in 1867, and matriculated at the University in 1886. In 1891-92he went to the Military School and became a supernumerary officer. Hewas so eager to take part in the expedition that, as no other postcould be found for him, he accepted that of stoker. 

Peter Leonard Henriksen, harpooner, was born in Balsfjord, near Tromsö, in 1859. From childhood he has been a sailor, and from fourteen yearsold has gone on voyages to the Arctic Sea as harpooner and skipper. In1888 he was shipwrecked off Novaya Zemlya in the sloop Enigheden, from Christiansund. He is married, and has four children. 

Bernhard Nordahl was born in Christiania in 1862. At the age offourteen he entered the navy, and advanced to be a gunner. Subsequentlyhe has done a little of everything, and, among other things, hasworked as an electrical engineer. He had charge of the dynamo andelectric installation on board, acted, moreover, as stoker, and fora time assisted in the meteorological observations. He is married, and has five children. 

Ivar Otto Irgens Mogstad was born at Aure, in Nordmöre, in 1856. In1877 passed his examination as first assistant, and from 1882 onwardwas one of the head keepers at the Gaustad Lunatic Asylum. 

Bernt Bentzen, born in 1860, went to sea for several years. In 1890he passed his mate's examination, since which he has sailed as matein several voyages to the Arctic Sea. We engaged him at Tromsö, justas we were starting. It was 8. 30 when he came on board to speak to me, and at 10 o'clock the Fram set sail. 

CHAPTER III

THE START

 "So travel I north to the gloomy abode That the sun never shines on-- There is no day. "

It was midsummer day. A dull, gloomy day; and with it came theinevitable leave-taking. The door closed behind me. For the last timeI left my home and went alone down the garden to the beach, where theFram's little petroleum launch pitilessly awaited me. Behind me layall I held dear in life. And what before me? How many years wouldpass ere I should see it all again? What would I not have given atthat moment to be able to turn back; but up at the window little Livwas sitting clapping her hands. Happy child, little do you know whatlife is--how strangely mingled and how full of change. Like an arrowthe little boat sped over Lysaker Bay, bearing me on the first stageof a journey on which life itself, if not more, was staked. 

At last everything was in readiness. The hour had arrived towardswhich the persevering labor of years had been incessantly bent, andwith it the feeling that, everything being provided and completed, responsibility might be thrown aside and the weary brain at lastfind rest. The Fram lies yonder at Pepperviken, impatiently pantingand waiting for the signal, when the launch comes puffing past Dynaand runs alongside. The deck is closely packed with people cometo bid a last farewell, and now all must leave the ship. Then theFram weighs anchor, and, heavily laden and moving slowly, makes thetour of the little creek. The quays are black with crowds of peoplewaving their hats and handkerchiefs. But silently and quietly the Framheads towards the fjord, steers slowly past Bygdö and Dyna out on herunknown path, while little nimble craft, steamers, and pleasure-boatsswarm around her. Peaceful and snug lay the villas along the shorebehind their veils of foliage, just as they ever seemed of old. Ah, "fair is the woodland slope, and never did it look fairer!" Long, long, will it be before we shall plough these well-known waters again. 

And now a last farewell to home. Yonder it lies on the point--thefjord sparkling in front, pine and fir woods around, a little smilingmeadow-land and long wood-clad ridges behind. Through the glass onecould descry a summer-clad figure by the bench under the fir-tree. . . . 

It was the darkest hour of the whole journey. 

And now out into the fjord. It was rainy weather, and a feelingof melancholy seemed to brood over the familiar landscape with allits memories. 

It was not until noon next day (June 25th) that the Fram glided intothe bay by Rækvik, Archer's shipyard, near Laurvik, where her cradlestood, and where many a golden dream had been dreamt of her victoriouscareer. Here we were to take the two long-boats on board and havethem set up on their davits, and there were several other things tobe shipped. It took the whole day and a good part of the next beforeall was completed. About three o'clock on the 26th we bade farewellto Rækvik and made a bend into Laurvik Bay, in order to stand out tosea by Frederiksværn. Archer himself had to take the wheel and steerhis child this last bit before leaving the ship. And then came thefarewell hand-shake; but few words were spoken, and they got intothe boat, he, my brothers, and a friend, while the Fram glided aheadwith her heavy motion, and the bonds that united us were severed. Itwas sad and strange to see this last relic of home in that littleskiff on the wide blue surface, Anker's cutter behind, and Laurvikfarther in the distance. I almost think a tear glittered on that fineold face as he stood erect in the boat and shouted a farewell to usand to the Fram. Do you think he does not love the vessel? That hebelieves in her I know well. So we gave him the first salute fromthe Fram's guns--a worthier inauguration they could not well have had. 

Full speed ahead, and in the calm, bright summer weather, while thesetting sun shed his beams over the land, the Fram stood out towardsthe blue sea, to get its first roll in the long, heaving swell. Theystood up in the boat and watched us for long. 

We bore along the coast in good weather, past Christiansand. Thenext evening, June 27th, we were off the Naze. I sat up and chattedwith Scott-Hansen till late in the night. He acted as captain onthe trip from Christiania to Trondhjem, where Sverdrup was to join, after having accompanied his family to Steenkiær. As we sat therein the chart-house and let the hours slip by while we pushed on inthe ever-increasing swell, all at once a sea burst open the door andpoured in. We rushed out on deck. The ship rolled like a log, theseas broke in over the rails on both sides, and one by one up cameall the crew. I feared most lest the slender davits which supportedthe long-boats should give way, and the boats themselves should gooverboard, perhaps carrying away with them a lot of the rigging. Thentwenty-five empty paraffin casks which were lashed on deck broke loose, washed backward and forward, and gradually filled with water; so thatthe outlook was not altogether agreeable. But it was worst of all whenthe piles of reserve timber, spars, and planks began the same dance, and threatened to break the props under the boats. It was an anxioushour. Sea-sick, I stood on the bridge, occupying myself in alternatelymaking libations to Neptune and trembling for the safety of the boatsand the men, who were trying to make snug what they could forward ondeck. I often saw only a hotch-potch of sea, drifting planks, arms, legs, and empty barrels. Now a green sea poured over us and knockeda man off his legs so that the water deluged him; now I saw the ladsjumping over hurtling spars and barrels, so as not to get their feetcrushed between them. There was not a dry thread on them. Juell, wholay asleep in the "Grand Hotel, " as we called one of the long-boats, awoke to hear the sea roaring under him like a cataract. I met himat the cabin door as he came running down. It was no longer safethere, he thought; best to save one's rags--he had a bundle underhis arm. Then he set off forward to secure his sea-chest, whichwas floating about on the fore-deck, and dragged it hurriedly aft, while one heavy sea after another swept over him. Once the Framburied her bows and shipped a sea over the forecastle. There wasone fellow clinging to the anchor-davits over the frothing water. Itwas poor Juell again. We were hard put to it to secure our goods andchattels. We had to throw all our good paraffin casks overboard, andone prime timber balk after another went the same way, while I stoodand watched them sadly as they floated off. The rest of the deck cargowas shifted aft on to the half-deck. I am afraid the shares in theexpedition stood rather low at this moment. Then all at once, whenthings were about at their worst with us, we sighted a bark loomingout of the fog ahead. There it lay with royals and all sails set, assnugly and peacefully as if nothing were the matter, rocking gentlyon the sea. It made one feel almost savage to look at it. Visions ofthe Flying Dutchman and other devilry flashed through my mind. 

Terrible disaster in the cook's galley! Mogstad goes in and sees thewhole wall sprinkled over with dark-red stains--rushes off to Nordahl, and says he believes Juell has shot himself through despair at theinsufferable heat he complains so about. "Great revolver disaster onboard the Fram!. . . " On close inspection, however, the stains appearedto proceed from a box of chocolate that had upset in the cupboard. 

Owing to the fog we dared not go too near land, so kept out to sea, till at last, towards morning, the fog lifted somewhat, and the pilotfound his bearings between Farsund and Hummerdus. We put into ListerFjord, intending to anchor there and get into better sea trim; but asthe weather improved we went on our way. It was not till the afternoonthat we steered into Ekersund, owing to thick weather and a stiffbreeze, and anchored in Hovland's Bay, where our pilot, Hovland, [18]lived. Next morning the boat davits, etc. , were put in good workingorder. The Fram, however, was too heavily laden to be at all easyin a seaway; but this we could not alter. What we had we must keep, and if we only got everything on deck shipshape and properly lashed, the sea could not do us much harm, however rough it might be; for weknew well enough that ship and rigging would hold out. 

It was late in the evening of the last day of June when we roundedKvarven and stood in for Bergen in the gloom of the sullen night. Nextmorning when I came on deck Vågen lay clear and bright in the sun, all the ships being gayly decked out with bunting from topmost todeck. The sun was holding high festival in the sky--Ulriken, Flöiren, and Lövstakken sparkled and glittered, and greeted me as of old. Itis a marvellous place, that old Hanseatic town!

In the evening I was to give a lecture, but arrived half an hour toolate. For just as I was dressing to go a number of bills poured in, and if I was to leave the town as a solvent man I must needs pay them, and so the public perforce had to wait. But the worst of it was thatthe saloon was full of those everlastingly inquisitive tourists. Icould hear a whole company of them besieging my cabin door while I wasdressing, declaring "they must shake hands with the doctor!" [19] Oneof them actually peeped in through the ventilator at me, my secretarytold me afterwards. A nice sight she must have seen, the lovelycreature! Report says she drew her head back very quickly. Indeed, at every place where we put in we were looked on somewhat as wildanimals in a menagerie. For they peeped unceremoniously at us in ourberths as if we had been bears and lions in a den, and we could hearthem loudly disputing among themselves as to who was who, and whetherthose nearest and dearest to us whose portraits hung on the walls couldbe called pretty or not. When I had finished my toilette I opened thedoor cautiously and made a rush through the gaping company. "Therehe is--there he is!" [20] they called to each other as they tumbledup the steps after me. It was no use; I was on the quay and in thecarriage long before they had reached the deck. 

At 8 o'clock there was a great banquet, many fine speeches, good fareand excellent wine, pretty ladies, music, and dancing till far intothe night. 

Next morning at 11 o'clock--it was Sunday--in bright, sunshiny weather, we stood northward over Bergen Fjord, many friends accompanying us. Itwas a lovely, never-to-be-forgotten summer day. In Herlö Fjord, rightout by the skerries, they parted from us, amid wavings of hats andpocket-handkerchiefs; we could see the little harbor boat for a longwhile with its black cloud of smoke on the sparkling surface of thewater. Outside, the sea rolled in the hazy sunlight; and within lay theflat Mangerland, full of memories for me of zoological investigationsin fair weather and foul, years and years ago. Here it was that one ofNorway's most famous naturalists, a lonely pastor far removed fromthe outer world, made his great discoveries. Here I myself firstgroped my way along the narrow path of zoological research. 

It was a wondrous evening. The lingering flush of vanished daysuffused the northern sky, while the moon hung large and round overthe mountains behind us. Ahead lay Alden and Kinn, like a fairylandrising up from the sea. Tired as I was, I could not seek my berth;I must drink in all this loveliness in deep refreshing draughts. Itwas like balm to the soul after all the turmoil and friction withcrowds of strangers. 

So we went on our way, mostly in fair weather, occasionally in fogand rain, through sounds and between islands, northward along thecoast of Norway. A glorious land--I wonder if another fairway likethis is to be found the whole world over? Those never-to-be-forgottenmornings, when nature wakens to life, wreaths of mist glittering likesilver over the mountains, their tops soaring above the mist likeislands of the sea! Then the day gleaming over the dazzling whitesnow-peaks! And the evenings, and the sunsets with the pale moonoverhead, white mountains and islands lay hushed and dreamlike as ayouthful longing! Here and there past homely little havens with housesaround them set in smiling green trees! Ah! those snug homes in the leeof the skerries awake a longing for life and warmth in the breast. Youmay shrug your shoulders as much as you like at the beauties of nature, but it is a fine thing for a people to have a fair land, be it never sopoor. Never did this seem clearer to me than now when I was leaving it. 

Every now and then a hurrah from land--at one time from a troop ofchildren, at another from grown-up people, but mostly from wonderingpeasants who gaze long at the strange-looking ship and muse over itsenigmatic destination. And men and women on board sloops and ten-oaredboats stand up in their red shirts that glow in the sunlight, and reston their oars to look at us. Steamboats crowded with people came outfrom the towns we passed to greet us, and bid us God-speed on our waywith music, songs, and cannon salutes. The great tourist steamboatsdipped flags to us and fired salutes, and the smaller craft did thesame. It is embarrassing and oppressive to be the object of homage likethis before anything has been accomplished. There is an old saying:

 "At eve the day shall be praised, The wife when she is burnt, The sword when tried, The woman when married, The ice when passed over, Ale when drunk. "

Most touching was the interest and sympathy with which these poorfisher-folk and peasants greeted us. It often set me wondering. Ifelt they followed us with fervent eagerness. I remember one day--itwas north in Helgeland--an old woman was standing waving and wavingto us on a bare crag. Her cottage lay some distance inland. "I wonderif it can really be us she is waving to, " I said to the pilot, who wasstanding beside me. "You may be sure it is, " was the answer. "But howcan she know who we are?" "Oh! they know all about the Fram up here, in every cabin, and they will be on the lookout for you as you comeback, I can tell you, " he answered. Aye, truly, it is a responsibletask we are undertaking, when the whole nation are with us likethis. What if the thing should turn out a huge disappointment!

In the evening I would sit and look around--lonely huts lay scatteredhere and there on points and islets. Here the Norwegian people wearout their lives in the struggle with the rocks, in the strugglewith the sea; and it is this people that is sending us out intothe great hazardous unknown; the very folk who stand there in theirfishing-boats and look wonderingly after the Fram as she slowly andheavily steams along on her northward course. Many of them wave theirsou'-westers and shout "Hurrah!" Others have barely time to gape atus in wonderment. In on the point are a troop of women waving andshouting; outside a few boats with ladies in light summer-dresses, and gentlemen at the oars entertaining them with small-talk as theywave their parasols and pocket-handkerchiefs. Yes; it is they whoare sending us out. It is not a cheering thought. Not one of them, probably, knows what they are paying their money for. Maybe theyhave heard it is a glorious enterprise; but why? To what end? Arewe not defrauding them? But their eyes are riveted on the ship, and perhaps there dawns before their minds a momentary vision of anew and inconceivable world, with aspirations after a something ofwhich they know naught. . . . And here on board are men who are leavingwife and children behind them. How sad has been the separation! whatlonging, what yearning, await them in the coming years! And it is notfor profit they do it. For honor and glory then? These may be scantenough. It is the same thirst for achievement, the same craving toget beyond the limits of the known, which inspired this people inthe Saga times that is stirring in them again to-day. In spite ofall our toil for subsistence, in spite of all our "peasant politics, "sheer utilitarianism is perhaps not so dominant among us, after all. 

As time was precious I did not, as originally intended, put in atTrondhjem, but stopped at Beian, where Sverdrup joined us. HereProfessor Brögger also came on board, to accompany us as far as Tromsö. 

Here, too, our doctor received three monstrous chests with the medicinesupply, a gift from Apothecary Bruun, of Trondhjem. 

And so on towards the north, along the lovely coast of Nordland. Westopped at one or two places to take dried fish on board as provisionfor the dogs. Past Torghatten, the Seven Sisters, and Hestemanden; pastLovunen and Trænen, far out yonder in the sea; past Lofoten and all theother lovely places--each bold gigantic form wilder and more beautifulthan the last. It is unique--a fairyland--a land of dreams. We feltafraid to go on too fast, for fear of missing something. 

On July 12th we arrived at Tromsö, where we were to take in coal andother things, such as reindeer cloaks, "komager" (a sort of Lappmoccasin), Finn shoes, "senne" grass, dried reindeer flesh, etc. , etc. , all of which had been procured by that indefatigable friendof the expedition, Advocate Mack. Tromsö gave us a cold reception--anorthwesterly gale, with driving snow and sleet. Mountains, plains, and house-roofs were all covered with snow down to the water's edge. Itwas the very bitterest July day I ever experienced. The people theresaid they could not remember such a July. Perhaps they were afraidthe place would come into disrepute, for in a town where they holdsnow-shoe races on Midsummer Day one may be prepared for anything inthe way of weather. 

In Tromsö the next day a new member of the expedition was engaged, Bernt Bentzen--a stout fellow to look at. He originally intendedaccompanying us only as far as Yugor Strait, but as a matter of facthe went the whole voyage with us, and proved a great acquisition, being not only a capital seaman, but a cheerful and amusing comrade. 

After a stay of two days we again set out. On the night of the 16th, east of the North Cape or Magerö, we met with such a nasty sea, and shipped so much water on deck, that we put into Kjöllefjord toadjust our cargo better by shifting the coal and making a few otherchanges. We worked at this the whole of two days, and made everythingclear for the voyage to Novaya Zemlya. I had at first thought of takingon board a fresh supply of coal at Vardö, but as we were already deeplyladen, and the Urania was to meet us at Yugor Strait with coal, wethought it best to be contented with what we had already got on board, as we might expect bad weather in crossing the White Sea and BarentsSea. At ten o'clock in the evening we weighed anchor, and reached Vardönext evening, where we met with a magnificent reception. There was aband of music on the pier, the fjord teemed with boats, flags wavedon every hand, and salutes were fired. The people had been waitingfor us ever since the previous evening, we were told--some of them, indeed, coming from Vadsö--and they had seized the opportunity toget up a subscription to provide a big drum for the town band, the"North Pole. " And here we were entertained at a sumptuous banquet, with speeches, and champagne flowing in streams, ere we bade Norwayour last farewell. 

The last thing that had now to be done for the Fram was to have herbottom cleaned of mussels and weeds, so that she might be able tomake the best speed possible. This work was done by divers, who werereadily placed at our service by the local inspector of the GovernmentHarbor Department. 

But our own bodies also claimed one last civilized feast ofpurification before entering on a life of savagery. The bath-houseof the town is a small timber building. The bath-room itself is low, and provided with shelves where you lie down and are parboiled withhot steam, which is constantly kept up by water being thrown on theglowing hot stones of an awful oven, worthy of hell itself; while allthe time young quæn (lasses) flog you with birch twigs. After thatyou are rubbed down, washed, and dried delightfully--everything beingwell managed, clean, and comfortable. I wonder whether old FatherMahomet has set up a bath like this in his paradise. 

CHAPTER IV

FAREWELL TO NORWAY

I felt in a strange mood as I sat up the last night writing lettersand telegrams. We had bidden farewell to our excellent pilot, Johan Hågensen, who had piloted us from Bergen, and now we were onlythe thirteen members of the expedition, together with my secretary, Christofersen, who had accompanied us so far, and was to go on with usas far as Yugor Strait. Everything was so calm and still, save for thescraping of the pen that was sending off a farewell to friends at home. 

All the men were asleep below. 

The last telegram was written, and I sent my secretary ashore withit. It was 3 o'clock in the morning when he returned, and I calledSverdrup up, and one or two others. We weighed anchor, and stoodout of the harbor in the silence of the morning. The town still laywrapped in sleep; everything looked so peaceful and lovely all around, with the exception of a little stir of awakening toil on board onesingle steamer in the harbor. A sleepy fisherman stuck his head upout of the half-deck of his ten-oared boat, and stared at us as westeamed past the breakwater; and on the revenue cutter outside therewas a man fishing in that early morning light. 

This last impression of Norway was just the right one for us tocarry away with us. Such beneficent peace and calm; such a rest forthe thoughts; no hubbub and turmoil of people with their hurrahs andsalutes. The masts in the harbor, the house-roofs, and chimneys stoodout against the cool morning sky. Just then the sun broke throughthe mist and smiled over the shore--rugged, bare, and weather-wornin the hazy morning, but still lovely--dotted here and there withtiny houses and boats, and all Norway lay behind it. . . . 

While the Fram was slowly and quietly working her way out to sea, towards our distant goal, I stood and watched the land graduallyfading away on the horizon. I wonder what will happen to her and tous before we again see Norway rising up over the sea?

But a fog soon came on and obscured everything. 

And through fog, nothing but fog, we steamed away for four days withoutstopping, until, when I came on deck on the morning of the 25th ofJuly, behold clear weather! The sun was shining in a cloudless sky, the bright blue sea was heaving with a gentle swell. Again it wasgood to be a living being, and to drink in the peacefulness of thesea in long draughts. Towards noon we sighted Goose Land on NovayaZemlya, and stood in towards it. Guns and cartridges were got ready, and we looked forward with joyful anticipation to roast goose andother game; but we had gone but a short distance when the graywoolly fog from the southeast came up and enveloped us. Again wewere shut off from the world around us. It was scarcely prudent tomake for land, so we set our course eastward towards Yugor Strait;but a head-wind soon compelled us to beat up under steam and sail, which we went on doing for a couple of days, plunged in a worldof fog. Ugh! that endless, stubborn fog of the Arctic Sea! When itlowers its curtain, and shuts out the blue above and the blue below, and everything becomes a damp gray mist, day in and day out, then allthe vigor and elasticity of the soul is needed to save one from beingstifled in its clammy embrace. Fog, and nothing but fog, wherever weturn our eyes. It condenses on the rigging and drips down on everytiniest spot on deck. It lodges on your clothes, and finally wetsyou through and through. It settles down on the mind and spirits, and everything becomes one uniform gray. 

On the evening of July 27th, while still fog-bound, we quiteunexpectedly met with ice; a mere strip, indeed, which we easilypassed through, but it boded ill. In the night we met with more--abroader strip this time, which also we passed through. But nextmorning I was called up with the information that there was thick, old ice ahead. Well, if ice difficulties were to begin so soon, itwould be a bad lookout indeed. Such are the chill surprises thatthe Arctic Sea has more than enough of. I dressed and was up inthe crow's-nest in a twinkling. The ice lay extended everywhere, as far as the eye could reach through the fog, which had lifted alittle. There was no small quantity of ice, but it was tolerablyopen, and there was nothing for it but to be true to our watchwordand "gå fram"--push onward. For a good while we picked our way. Butnow it began to lie closer, with large floes every here and there, and at the same time the fog grew denser, and we could not see ourway at all. To go ahead in difficult ice and in a fog is not veryprudent, for it is impossible to tell just where you are going, andyou are apt to be set fast before you know where you are. So we had tostop and wait. But still the fog grew ever denser, while the ice didthe same. Our hopes meanwhile rose and fell, but mostly the latter, I think. To encounter so much ice already in these waters, where atthis time of year the sea is, as a rule, quite free from it, bodedanything but good. Already at Tromsö and Vardö we had heard bad news;the White Sea, they said, had only been clear of ice a very short time, and a boat that had tried to reach Yugor Strait had had to turn backbecause of the ice. Neither were our anticipations of the Kara Seaaltogether cheerful. What might we not expect there? For the Urania, with our coals, too, this ice was a bad business; for it would beunable to make its way through unless it had found navigable waterfarther south along the Russian coast. 

Just as our prospects were at their darkest, and we were preparing toseek a way back out of the ice, which kept getting ever denser, thejoyful tidings came that the fog was lifting, and that clear waterwas visible ahead to the east on the other side of the ice. Afterforcing our way ahead for some hours between the heavy floes, wewere once more in open water. This first bout with the ice, however, showed us plainly what an excellent ice-boat the Fram was. It was aroyal pleasure to work her ahead through difficult ice. She twistedand turned "like a ball on a platter. " No channel between the floes sowinding and awkward but she could get through it. But it is hard workfor the helmsman. "Hard astarboard! Hard aport! Steady! Hard astarboardagain!" goes on incessantly without so much as a breathing-space. Andhe rattles the wheel round, the sweat pours off him, and round itgoes again like a spinning-wheel. And the ship swings round andwriggles her way forward among the floes without touching, if thereis only just an opening wide enough for her to slip through; and wherethere is none she drives full tilt at the ice, with her heavy plunge, runs her sloping bows up on it, treads it under her, and bursts thefloes asunder. And how strong she is too! Even when she goes fullspeed at a floe, not a creak, not a sound, is to be heard in her;if she gives a little shake it is all she does. 

On Saturday, July 29th, we again headed eastward towards Yugor Straitas fast as sails and steam could take us. We had open sea ahead, theweather was fine and the wind fair. Next morning we came under thesouth side of Dolgoi or Langöia, as the Norwegian whalers call it, where we had to stand to the northward. On reaching the north of theisland we again bore eastward. Here I descried from the crow's-nest, as far as I could make out, several islands which are not given onthe charts. They lay a little to the east of Langöia. 

It was now pretty clear that the Urania had not made her way throughthe ice. While we were sitting in the saloon in the forenoon, talkingabout it, a cry was heard from deck that the sloop was in sight. Itwas joyful news, but the joy was of no long duration. The next momentwe heard she had a crow's-nest on her mast, so she was doubtless asealer. When she sighted us she bore off to the south, probably fearingthat we were a Russian war-ship or something equally bad. So, as wehad no particular interest in her, we let her go on her way in peace. 

Later in the day we neared Yugor Strait. We kept a sharp lookoutfor land ahead, but none could be seen. Hour after hour passed as weglided onward at good speed, but still no land. Certainly it would notbe high land, but nevertheless this was strange. Yes--there it lies, like a low shadow over the horizon, on the port bow. It is land--it isVaigats Island. Soon we sight more of it--abaft the beam; then, too, the mainland on the south side of the strait. More and more of it comesin sight--it increases rapidly. All low and level land, no heights, novariety, no apparent opening for the strait ahead. Thence it stretchesaway to the north and south in a soft low curve. This is the thresholdof Asia's boundless plains, so different from all we have been used to. 

We now glided into the strait, with its low rocky shores on eitherside. The strata of the rocks lie endways, and are crumpled and broken, but on the surface everything is level and smooth. No one who travelsover the flat green plains and tundras would have any idea of themysteries and upheavals that lie hidden beneath the sward. Hereonce upon a time were mountains and valleys, now all worn away andwashed out. 

We looked out for Khabarova. On the north side of the sound therewas a mark; a shipwrecked sloop lay on the shore; it was a Norwegiansealer. The wreck of a smaller vessel lay by its side. On the southside was a flag-staff, and on it a red flag; Khabarova must then liebehind it. At last one or two buildings or shanties appeared behind apromontory, and soon the whole place lay exposed to view, consistingof tents and a few houses. On a little jutting-out point close by uswas a large red building, with white door-frames, of a very homelikeappearance. It was indeed a Norwegian warehouse which Sibiriakoff hadimported from Finmarken. But here the water was shallow, and we had toproceed carefully for fear of running aground. We kept heaving the leadincessantly--we had 5 fathoms of water, and then 4, then not much morethan we needed, and then it shelved to a little over 3 fathoms. Thiswas rather too close work, so we stood out again a bit to wait tillwe got a little nearer the place before drawing in to the shore. 

A boat was now seen slowly approaching from the land. A man of middleheight, with an open, kindly face and reddish beard, came on board. Hemight have been a Norwegian from his appearance. I went to meet him, and asked him in German if he was Trontheim. Yes, he was. Afterhim there came a number of strange figures clad in heavy robes ofreindeer-skin, which nearly touched the deck. On their heads they worepeculiar "bashlyk"-like caps of reincalf-skin, beneath which stronglymarked bearded faces showed forth, such as might well have belongedto old Norwegian Vikings. The whole scene, indeed, called up in mymind a picture of the Viking Age, of expeditions to Gardarike andBjarmeland. They were fine, stalwart-looking fellows, these Russiantraders, who barter with the natives, giving them brandy in exchangefor bearskins, sealskins, and other valuables, and who, when oncethey have a hold on a man, keep him in such a state of dependence thathe can scarcely call his soul his own. "Es ist eine alte Geschichte, doch wird sie immer neu. " Soon, too, the Samoyedes came flocking onboard, pleasant-featured people of the broad Asiatic type. Of courseit was only the men who came. 

The first question I asked Trontheim was about the ice. He replied thatYugor Strait had been open a long while, and that he had been expectingour arrival every day since then with ever-increasing anxiety. Thenatives and the Russians had begun to jeer at him as time went on, and no Fram was to be seen; but now he had his revenge and was allsunshine. He thought the state of the ice in the Kara Sea would befavorable; some Samoyedes had said so, who had been seal-hunting nearthe eastern entrance of the Strait a day or two previously. This wasnot very much to build upon, certainly, but still sufficient to make usregret that we had not got there before. Then we spoke of the Urania, of which no one, of course, had seen anything. No ship had put in therefor some time, except the sealing sloop we had passed in the morning. 

Next we inquired about the dogs, and learned that everything was allright with them. To make sure, Trontheim had purchased forty dogs, though I had only asked for thirty. Five of these, from variousmishaps, had died during their journey--one had been bitten to death, two had got hung fast and had been strangled while passing through aforest, etc. , etc. One, moreover, had been taken ill a few days before, and was still on the sick list; but the remaining thirty-four were ingood condition: we could hear them howling and barking. During thisconversation we had come as near to Khabarova as we dared venture, and at seven in the evening cast anchor in about 3 fathoms of water. 

Over the supper-table Trontheim told us his adventures. On the wayfrom Sopva and Ural to the Pechora he heard that there was a dogepidemic in that locality; consequently he did not think it advisableto go to the Pechora as he had intended, but laid his course insteaddirect from Ural to Yugor Strait. Towards the end of the journeythe snow had disappeared, and, in company with a reindeer caravan, he drove on with his dogs over the bare plain, stocks and stones andall, using the sledges none the less. The Samoyedes and natives ofNorthern Siberia have no vehicles but sledges. The summer sledgeis somewhat higher than the winter sledge, in order that it maynot hang fast upon stones and stumps. As may be supposed, however, summer sledging is anything but smooth work. 

After supper we went ashore, and were soon on the flat beach ofKhabarova, the Russians and Samoyedes regarding us with the utmostcuriosity. The first objects to attract our attention were thetwo churches--an old venerable-looking wooden shed, of an oblongrectangular form, and an octagonal pavilion, not unlike manysummer-houses or garden pavilions that I have seen at home. Howfar the divergence between the two forms of religion was indicatedin the two mathematical figures I am unable to say. It might bethat the simplicity of the old faith was expressed in the simple, four-sided building, while the rites and ceremonies of the other weretypified in the octagonal form, with its double number of cornersto stumble against. Then we must go and see the monastery--"Skit, "as it was called--where the six monks had lived, or rather died, fromwhat people said was scurvy, probably helped out by alcohol. It layover against the new church, and resembled an ordinary low Russiantimber-house. The priest and his assistants were living there now, and had asked Trontheim to take up his quarters with them. Trontheim, therefore, invited us in, and we soon found ourselves in a couple ofcomfortable log-built rooms with open fireplaces like our Norwegian"peis. "

After this we proceeded to the dog-camp, which was situated on aplain at some distance from the houses and tents. As we approachedit the howling and barking kept getting worse and worse. When a shortdistance off we were surprised to see a Norwegian flag on the top ofa pole. Trontheim's face beamed with joy as our eyes fell on it. Itwas, he said, under the same flag as our expedition that his hadbeen undertaken. There stood the dogs tied up, making a deafeningclamor. Many of them appeared to be well-bred animals--long-haired, snow-white, with up-standing ears and pointed muzzles. With theirgentle, good-natured looking faces they at once ingratiated themselvesin our affections. Some of them more resembled a fox, and had shortercoats, while others were black or spotted. Evidently they were ofdifferent races, and some of them betrayed by their drooping earsa strong admixture of European blood. After having duly admired theravenous way in which they swallowed raw fish (gwiniad), not withouta good deal of snarling and wrangling, we took a walk inland to a lakeclose by in search of game; but we only found an Arctic gull with itsbrood. A channel had been dug from this lake to convey drinking-waterto Khabarova. According to what Trontheim told us, this was the workof the monks--about the only work, probably, they had ever taken inhand. The soil here was a soft clay, and the channel was narrow andshallow, like a roadside ditch or gutter; the work could not havebeen very arduous. On the hill above the lake stood the flagstaffwhich we had noticed on our arrival. It had been erected by theexcellent Trontheim to bid us welcome, and on the flag itself, as Iafterwards discovered by chance, was the word "Vorwärts. " Trontheimhad been told that was the name of our ship, so he was not a littledisappointed when he came on board to find it was Fram instead. Iconsoled him, however, by telling him they both meant the same thing, and that his welcome was just as well meant, whether written in Germanor Norwegian. Trontheim told me afterwards that he was by descent aNorwegian, his father having been a ship's captain from Trondhjem, and his mother an Esthonian, settled at Riga. His father had beenmuch at sea, and had died early, so the son had not learnt Norwegian. 

Naturally our first and foremost object was to learn all we couldabout the ice in the Arctic Sea. We had determined to push on assoon as possible; but we must have the boiler put in order first, while sundry pipes and valves in the engine wanted seeing to. As itwould take several days to do this, Sverdrup, Peter Henriksen, andI set out next morning in our little petroleum launch to the easternopening of the Yugor Strait, to see with our own eyes what might bethe condition of the ice to the eastward. It was 28 miles thither. Aquantity of ice was drifting through the strait from the east, and, asthere was a northerly breeze, we at once turned our course northward toget under the lee of the north shore, where the water was more open. Ihad the rather thankless task of acting as helmsman and engineer atone and the same time. The boat went on like a little hero and madeabout six knots. Everything looked bright. But, alas! good fortuneseldom lasts long, especially when one has to do with petroleumlaunches. A defect in the circulation-pump soon stopped the engine, and we could only go for short distances at a time, till we reachedthe north shore, where, after two hours' hard work, I got the enginesso far in order as to be able to continue our journey to the northeastthrough the sound between the drifting floes. We got on pretty well, except for an interruption every now and then when the engine tookit into its head to come to a standstill. It caused a good deal ofmerriment when the stalwart Peter turned the crank to set her offagain and the engine gave a start so as nearly to pull his arms outof joint and upset him head over heels in the boat. Every now andthen a flock of long-tailed duck (Harelda glacialis) or other birdscame whizzing by us, one or two of them invariably falling to our guns. 

We had kept along the Vaigats shore, but now crossed over towards thesouth side of the strait. When about the middle of the channel I wasstartled by all at once seeing the bottom grow light under us, and hadnearly run the boat on a shoal of which no one knew anything. Therewas scarcely more than two or three feet of water, and the currentran over it like a rapid river. Shoals and sunken rocks abound thereon every hand, especially on the south side of the strait, and itrequired great care to navigate a vessel through it. Near the easternmouth of the strait we put into a little creek, dragged the boat up onthe beach, and then, taking our guns, made for some high-lying landwe had noticed. We tramped along over the same undulating plain-landwith low ridges, as we had seen everywhere round the Yugor Strait. Abrownish-green carpet of moss and grass spread over the plain, bestrewnwith flowers of rare beauty. During the long, cold Siberian winterthe snow lies in a thick mass over the tundra; but no sooner does thesun get the better of it than hosts of tiny northern flowers bursttheir way up through the fast-disappearing coating of snow and opentheir modest calices, blushing in the radiant summer day that bathesthe plain in its splendor. Saxifrages with large blooms, pale-yellowmountain poppies (Papaver nudicaule) stand in bright clusters, andhere and there with bluish forget-me-nots and white cloud-berryflowers; in some boggy hollows the cotton-grass spreads its wavydown carpet, while in other spots small forests of bluebells softlytingle in the wind on their upright stalks. These flowers are not atall brilliant specimens, being in most cases not more than a coupleof inches high, but they are all the more exquisite on that account, and in such surroundings their beauty is singularly attractive. Whilethe eye vainly seeks for a resting-place over the boundless plain, these modest blooms smile at you and take the fancy captive. 

And over these mighty tundra-plains of Asia, stretching infinitelyonward from one sky-line to the other, the nomad wanders with hisreindeer herds, a glorious, free life! Where he wills he pitcheshis tent, his reindeer around him; and at his will again he goes onhis way. I almost envied him. He has no goal to struggle towards, noanxieties to endure--he has merely to live! I wellnigh wished that Icould live his peaceful life, with wife and child, on these boundless, open plains, unfettered, happy. 

After we had proceeded a short distance, we became aware of a whiteobject sitting on a stone heap beneath a little ridge, and soon noticedmore in other directions. They looked quite ghostly as they sat theresilent and motionless. With the help of my field-glass I discoveredthat they were snow-owls. We set out after them, but they took careto keep out of the range of a fowling-piece. Sverdrup, however, shot one or two with his rifle. There was a great number of them;I could count as many as eight or ten at once. They sat motionlesson tussocks of grass or stones, watching, no doubt, for lemmings, ofwhich, judging from their tracks, there must have been quantities. We, however, did not see any. 

From the tops of the ridges we could see over the Kara Sea to thenortheast. Everywhere ice could be descried through the telescope, faron the horizon--ice, too, that seemed tolerably close and massive. Butbetween it and the coast there was open water, stretching, like a widechannel, as far as the eye could reach to the southeast. This was allwe could make out, but it was in reality all we wanted. There seemed tobe no doubt that we could make our way forward, and, well satisfied, we returned to our boat. Here we lighted a fire of driftwood, andmade some glorious coffee. 

As the coffee-kettle was singing over a splendid fire, and westretched ourselves at full length on the slope by its side andsmoked a quiet pipe, Sverdrup made himself thoroughly comfortable, and told us one story after another. However gloomy a country mightlook, however desolate, if only there were plenty of driftwood onthe beach, so that one could make a right good fire, the bigger thebetter, then his eyes would glisten with delight--that land was hisEl Dorado. So from that time forth he conceived a high opinion ofthe Siberian coast--a right good place for wintering, he called it. 

On our way back we ran at full speed on to a sunken rock. Aftera bump or two the boat slid over it; but just as she was slippingoff on the other side the propeller struck on the rock, so that thestern gave a bound into the air while the engine whizzed round at atearing rate. It all happened in a second, before I had time to stopher. Unluckily one screw blade was broken off, but we drove ahead withthe other as best we could. Our progress was certainly rather uneven, but for all that we managed to get on somehow. 

Towards morning we drew near the Fram, passing two Samoyedes, who haddrawn their boat up on an ice-floe and were looking out for seals. Iwonder what they thought when they saw our tiny boat shoot by themwithout steam, sails, or oars. We, at all events, looked down on these"poor savages" with the self-satisfied compassion of Europeans, as, comfortably seated, we dashed past them. 

But pride comes before a fall! We had not gone far when--whir, whir, whir--a fearful racket! bits of broken steel springs whizzed past myears, and the whole machine came to a dead stop. It was not to bemoved either forward or backward. The vibration of the one-bladedpropeller had brought the lead line little by little within therange of the fly-wheel, and all at once the whole line was drawninto the machinery, and got so dreadfully entangled in it that wehad to take the whole thing to pieces to get it clear once more. Sowe had to endure the humiliation of rowing back to our proud ship, for whose flesh-pots we had long been anhungered. 

The net result of the day was: tolerably good news about the Kara Sea;forty birds, principally geese and long-tailed ducks; one seal; anda disabled boat. Amundsen and I, however, soon put this in completerepair again--but in so doing I fear I forfeited forever and a daythe esteem of the Russians and Samoyedes in these parts. Some of themhad been on board in the morning and seen me hard at work in the boatin my shirt-sleeves, face and bare arms dirty with oil and othermesses. They went on shore afterwards to Trontheim, and said thatI could not possibly be a great person, slaving away like any otherworkman on board, and looking worse than a common rough. Trontheim, unfortunately, knew of nothing that could be said in my excuse;there is no fighting against facts. 

In the evening some of us went on shore to try the dogs. Trontheimpicked out ten of them and harnessed them to a Samoyede sledge. Nosooner were we ready and I had taken my seat than the team caught sightof a wretched strange dog that had come near, and off dashed dogs, sledge, and my valuable person after the poor creature. There wasa tremendous uproar; all the ten tumbled over each other like wildwolves, biting and tearing wherever they could catch hold; bloodran in streams, and the culprit howled pitiably, while Trontheimtore round like a madman, striking right and left with his longswitch. Samoyedes and Russians came screaming from all sides. I satpassively on the sledge in the middle of it all, dumb with fright, and it was ever so long before it occurred to me that there wasperhaps something for me too to do. With a horrible yell I flungmyself on some of the worst fighters, got hold of them by the neck, and managed to give the culprit time to get away. 

Our team had got badly mixed up during the battle, and it took sometime to disentangle them. At last everything was once more readyfor the start. Trontheim cracked his whip, and called, "Pr-r-r-r, pr-r-r-r, " and off we went at a wild gallop, over grass, clay, andstones, until it seemed as if they were going to carry us rightacross the lagoon at the mouth of the river. I kicked and pulledin with all my might, but was dragged along, and it was all thatTrontheim and I with our united strength could do to stop themjust as they were going into the water, although we shouted "Sass, sass, " so that it echoed over the whole of Khabarova. But at lastwe got our team turned in another direction, and off we set againmerrily at such a pace that I had enough to do to hold on. It was anextraordinary summer ride; and it gave us a high opinion of the dogs'strength, seeing how easily they drew two men over this, to put itmildly, bad sledding ground. We went on board again well satisfied, also the richer by a new experience, having learnt that dog-driving, at any rate to begin with, requires much patience. 

Siberian dog-harness is remarkably primitive. A thick rope or a strapof sail-cloth passes round the animal's back and belly. This is heldin its place above by a piece of cord attached to the collar. Thesingle trace is fastened under the belly, goes back between the legs, and must often plague the animal. I was unpleasantly surprised whenI noticed that, with four exceptions, all the dogs were castrated, and this surprise I did not conceal. But Trontheim on his side was atleast equally astonished, and informed me that in Siberia castrateddogs are considered the best. [21] This was a disappointment to me, as I had reckoned on my canine family increasing on the way. Forthe present I should just have to trust to the four "whole" dogs and"Kvik, " the bitch I had brought with me from home. 

Next day, August 1st, there was a great religious festival inKhabarova, that of St. Elias. Samoyedes from far and near had come inwith their reindeer teams to celebrate the day by going to church andthen getting roaring drunk. We were in need of men in the morningto help in filling the boiler with fresh water and the tank withdrinking-water, but on account of this festival it was difficult to gethold of any at all. At last, by dint of promising sufficient reward, Trontheim succeeded in collecting some poor fellows who had not moneyenough to drink themselves as drunk as the day required of them. Iwas on shore in the morning, partly to arrange about the provisionof water, partly to collect fossils, in which the rock here abounds, especially one rock below Sibiriakoff's warehouse. I also took a walkup the hill to the west, to Trontheim's flag-staff, and looked outto sea in that direction after the Urania. But there was nothing tobe seen except an unbroken sea-line. Loaded with my find I returnedto Khabarova, where I, of course, took advantage of the opportunityto see something of the festival. 

From early morning the women had been dressed in their finestclothes--brilliant colors, skirts with many tucks, and greatcolored bows at the end of plaits of hair which hung far down theirbacks. Before service an old Samoyede and a comely young girl ledout a lean reindeer which was to be offered to the church--to the oldchurch, that is to say. Even up here, as already mentioned, religiousdifferences have found their way. Nearly all the Samoyedes of theseparts belong to the old faith and attend the old church. But they gooccasionally to the new one too; as far as I could make out, so asnot to offend the priest and Sibiriakoff--or perhaps to be surer ofheaven? From what I got out of Trontheim on the subject, the chiefdifference between the two religions lies in the way they make thesign of the cross, or something of that sort. To-day was high festivalin both churches. All the Samoyedes first paid a short visit to thenew church and then immediately streamed over into the old one. Theold church was for the moment without a priest, but to-day they hadclubbed together and offered the priest of the new church two roublesto hold a service in the old one too. After careful consideration, heagreed, and in all his priestly pomp crossed the old threshold. Theair inside was so bad that I could not stand it for more than twominutes, so I now made my way on board again. 

During the afternoon the howling and screaming began, and increasedas time went on. We did not need to be told that the serious part ofthe festival had now begun. Some of the Samoyedes tore about over theplain with their reindeer teams like furious animals. They could notsit on their sledges, but lay on them, or were dragged behind them, howling. Some of my comrades went on shore, and brought back anythingbut an edifying account of the state of things. Every single manand woman appeared to be drunk, reeling about the place. One youngSamoyede in particular had made an ineffaceable impression on them. Hemounted a sledge, lashed at the reindeer, and drove "amuck" in amongthe tents, over the tied-up dogs, foxes, and whatever came in his way;he himself fell off the sledge, was caught in the reins, and draggedbehind, shrieking, through sand and clay. Good St. Elias must be muchflattered by such homage. Towards morning the howling gradually diedaway, and the whole town slept the loathsome sleep of the drunkard. 

There was not a man to be got to help with our coal-shifting nextday. Most of them slept all day after the orgie of the night. Wehad just to do without help; but we had not finished by evening, and I began to be impatient to get away. Precious time was passing;I had long ago given up the Urania. We did not really need morecoal. The wind had been favorable for several days. It was a southwind, which was certainly blowing the ice to the northward in theKara Sea. Sverdrup was now positive that we should be able to sailin open water all the way to the New Siberian Islands, so it washis opinion that there was no hurry for the present. But hope is afrail reed to lean on, and my expectations were not quite so bright;so I hurried things on, to get away as soon as possible. 

At the supper-table this evening King Oscar's gold medal of meritwas solemnly presented to Trontheim, in recognition of the great carewith which he had executed his difficult commission, and the valuableassistance thereby rendered to the expedition. His honest face beamedat the sight of the beautiful medal and the bright ribbon. 

Next day, August 3d, we were at last ready for a start, and the 34dogs were brought on board in the afternoon, with great noise andconfusion. They were all tied up on the deck forward, and began byproviding more musical entertainment than we desired. By eveningthe hour had come. We got up steam--everything was ready. But sucha thick fog had set in that we could not see the land. Now camethe moment when our last friend, Christofersen, was to leave theship. We supplied him with the barest sufficiency of provisions andsome Ringnes's ale. While this was being done, last lines were addedin feverish eagerness to the letters home. Then came a last hand-clasp;Christofersen and Trontheim got into the boat, and had soon disappearedin the fog. With them went our last post; our last link with homewas broken. We were alone in the mist on the sea. It was not likelythat any message from us would reach the world before we ourselvesbrought the news of our success or defeat. How much anxiety werethose at home to suffer between now and then! It is true we mightpossibly be able to send letters home from the mouth of the Olenek, where, according to the agreement with Baron Toll, we were to call infor another supply of dogs; but I did not consider this probable. Itwas far on in the summer, and I had an instinctive feeling that thestate of the ice was not so favorable as I could have wished it to be. 

TRONTHEIM'S NARRATIVE

Alexander Ivanovitch Trontheim has himself given an account, in theTobolsk official newspaper, of his long and difficult journey withour dogs. The account was written by A. Kryloff from Trontheim'sstory. The following is a short résumé:

After having made the contract with Baron Toll, Trontheim was onJanuary 28th (January 16th by Russian reckoning) already at Berezoff, where there was then a Yassak-meeting, [22] and consequently agreat assembly of Ostiaks and Samoyedes. Trontheim made use of thisopportunity and bought 33 (this ought probably to be 40) choice sledgedogs. These he conveyed to the little country town of Muzhi, wherehe made preparations for the "very long journey, " passing the time inthis way till April 16th. By this date he had prepared 300 pud (about9600 lbs. ) of dog provender, consisting chiefly of dried fish. For300 roubles he engaged a Syriane, named Terentieff, with a reindeerherd of 450, to convey him, his dogs, and baggage to Yugor Strait. Forthree months these two with their caravan--reindeer, drivers, dogs, women, and children--travelled through the barren tracts of northernSiberia. At first their route lay through the Ural Mountains. "It wasmore a sort of nomadic life than a journey. They did not go straight ontowards their destination, but wandered over wide tracts of country, stopping wherever it was suitable for the reindeer, and where theyfound lichen. From the little town of Muzhi the expedition passedup the Voikara River to its sources; and here began the ascent ofthe Ural Mountains by the Pass of Kjaila (Kjola). In their crossingof the chain they tried to skirt along the foot of the mountains, climbing as little as possible. . . . 

"They noticed one marked contrast between the mountains in the northernand those in the southern part of the Ural chain. In the south the snowmelts quickly in the lower regions and remains lying on the tops. Here(in the northern Ural), on the contrary, the mountain-tops are freefrom snow before the sun's rays penetrate into the valleys and meltit there. In some valleys, especially those closed by mountains tothe south, and more exposed to north winds, the snow lies the wholesummer. When they had got across the Ural Mountains they firstfollowed the course of the River Lemva, then crossed it, and nowfollowed a whole system of small rivers, for which even the nativeshave no names. At last, on May 4th, the expedition reached the RiverUssa, on the banks of which lay the hut of the Syriane Nikitsa. " Thiswas "the one inhabited spot in this enormous tract of country, " andhere they stopped two weeks to rest the reindeer and get provenderfor them. "The country lying between the sources of the Voikara andthe Ussa is wooded in every direction. " "Between the River Ussa andthe River Vorkuta, and even beyond that, Trontheim and his companytravelled through quite luxuriant wood. In the middle of May, as thecaravan approached the tundra region, the wood got thinner and thinner, and by May 27th it was nothing but scattered underwood. After this camequite small bushes and weeds, and then at last the interminable tundracame in sight. Not to be without fuel on the tundra, they felled somedead trees and other wood--eight sledge loads. The day after they gotout on the tundra (May 29th) the caravan set off at full speed, theSyrianes being anxious to get quickly past a place where a whole herdof reindeer had perished some years before. The reindeer-drivers takegood note of such places, and do everything possible to avoid them, asthe animals may easily be infected by gnawing the bones of their deadcomrades. God help the herd that this happens to! The disease passesrapidly from animal to animal, and scores may die of it in a day. [23]

"In this region there are many bogs; the low land forms one continuousmorass. Sometimes we had to walk up to the waist in water; thus onJune 5th we splashed about the whole day in water, in constant fear ofthe dogs catching cold. On the 6th a strong northeast wind blew, andat night the cold was so severe that two reindeer-calves were frozento death; and besides this two grown ones were carried off by wolves. "

The caravan had often to cross rapid rivers, where it was sometimesvery difficult to find a ford. They were frequently obliged toconstruct a bridge with the help of tent-poles and sometimes blocksof ice, and it occasionally took them a whole day to get across. Bydegrees their supply of wood was used up, and it was difficult toget food cooked. Few bushes were to be found. On June 17th they met aSyriane reindeer driver and trader; from him they bought two bottlesof wine (brandy) at 70 kopecks each. "It was, as is customary, a veryfriendly encounter, and ended with treatings on both sides. One cansee a long way on the tundra; the Syriane's keen eye detects anotherherd, or smoke from inhabited tents, 10 versts off; and a nomad whohas discovered the presence of another human being 10 or 12 versts offnever lets slip the opportunity of visiting him in his camp, havinga talk, and being regaled with tea, or, in preference, brandy. Theday after, June 18th, some Samoyedes, who had heard of the caravan, came on four sledges to the camp. They were entertained with tea. Theconversation, carried on in Samoyede, was about the health of thereindeer, our journey, and the way to Yugor Strait. When the scantynews of the tundra had been well discussed they took their departure. "

By the end of June, when they had got through all the ramifications ofthe Little Ural Mountains, the time was drawing near when, accordingto his agreement, Trontheim was due at Yugor Strait. He was obligedto hasten the rate of travelling, which was not an easy matter, withmore than 40 sledges and 450 reindeer, not counting the calves. He, therefore, determined to divide the caravan into two parts, leavethe women, children, and domestic animals behind, and push forwardwithout any baggage, except the necessary food. So, on June 28th, "thirty sledges, tents, etc. , were left with the women and children, who were to live their nomadic life as best they could. The maleSyrianes took ten sledges and went on with Trontheim. " At last, onJuly 9th, after more wanderings, they saw the sea from a "high hill, "and next day they reached Khabarova, where Trontheim learned that nosteamer had arrived yet in Yugor Strait, nor had any sail been seen. Atthis time the whole shore of Yugor Strait and all the sea within sightwas covered with ice, driven there by northerly winds. The sea wasnot quite open till July 22d. Trontheim passed the time while he waswaiting for the Fram in hunting and making excursions with his dogs, which were in excellent condition. He was often in the Sibiriakoffcolony, a meeting-place for the Samoyedes of the district, who comehere in considerable numbers to dispose of their wares. And it was amelancholy phase of life he saw here in this little "world-forsaken"colony. "Every summer two or three merchants or peasant traders, generally from Pustozersk, come for the purpose of bartering with theSamoyedes, and sometimes the Syrianes, too, for their wares--bearskins, blubber, and sealskins, reindeer-skins, and such like--giving inexchange tea, sugar, flour, household utensils, etc. No transactiontakes place without the drinking of brandy, for which the Samoyedehas an insatiable craving. When the trader has succeeded in makinga poor wretch quite tipsy, he fleeces him, and buys all he wants atsome ridiculous price--the result of the transaction generally beingthat the Samoyede is in debt to his 'benefactor. ' All the traders thatcome to the colony bring brandy, and one great drinking-bout goes onall the summer. You can tell where much business is done by the numberof brandy casks in the trader's booth. There is no police inspection, and it would be difficult to organize anything of the kind. As soon asthere is snow enough for the sledges, the merchants' reindeer caravansstart from the colony on their homeward journey, loaded with emptybrandy casks and with the proceeds of this one-sided bartering. 

"On July 30th [this ought to be 29th] Trontheim saw from the shore, first, smoke, and soon after a steamer. There could be no doubtof its being the Fram. He went out in a little Samoyede boat tomeet her, and called out in Russian that he wanted to be taken onboard. From the steamer they called back, asking who he was, and whenthey heard his name he was hauled up. On deck he met Nansen himself, in a greasy working-jacket. He is still quite a young man, of middleheight. . . . " Here follows a flattering description of the leader ofthe expedition, and the state of matters on board. "It is evident, "he then goes on, "that we have here one family, united and inspiredby one idea, for the carrying out of which all labor devotedly. Thehard and dirty work on board is fairly divided, no difference beingmade between the common sailor and the captain, or even the chief ofthe expedition. The doctor, too, takes his share in the general work, and this community of labor is a close bond between all on board. Theexistence of such relations among the ship's company made a veryfavorable impression on Trontheim, and this most of all (in hisopinion) justified the hope that in difficult crises the expeditionwould be able to hold its own. 

"A. I. Trontheim was on board the Fram every day, breakfasting anddining there. From what he relates, the ship must be admirably built, leaving nothing whatever to be desired. The cabins are roomy, andcomfortably fitted up; there is an excellent library, containingthe classics of European literature; various musical instruments, from a beautiful grand-piano [24] to flutes and guitars; then chess, draughts, etc. --all for the recreation of the company. "

Here follows a description of the Fram, her general equipments, and commissariat. It seems to have made a great impression on himthat we had no wine (brandy) on board. "I was told, " he exclaims, "that only among the medicine stores have they some 20 or 30 bottlesof the best cognac--pure, highly rectified spirit. It is Nansen'sopinion that brandy-drinking in these northern regions is injurious, and may, if indulged in on such a difficult and dangerous voyage, havevery serious consequences; he has therefore considered it expedientto supply its place by fruit and various sorts of sweets, of whichthere are large supplies on board. " "In harbor the crew spent most ofthe day together; in spite of community of work, each individual'sduties are fixed down to the minutest detail. They all sit down tomeals together, with the exception of the acting cook, whose duty theytake by turns. Health and good spirits are to be read on every face;Nansen's immovable faith in a successful and happy issue to theirexpedition inspires the whole crew with courage and confidence. 

"On August 3d they shifted coal on board the Fram from the ship'shold down to the stoke-hold (coal bunkers). All the members ofthe expedition took part in this work, Nansen at their head, andthey worked unitedly and cheerfully. This same day Nansen and hiscompanions tried the dogs on shore. Eight [this should be ten] wereharnessed to a sledge on which three persons took their places. Nansenexpressed his satisfaction with the dogs, and thanked Trontheim forthe good selection he had made, and for the excellent condition theanimals were in. When the dogs were taken over and brought on board, [25] Trontheim applied to Nansen for a certificate of the exact andscrupulous way in which he had fulfilled his contract. Nansen'sanswer was: 'No; a certificate is not enough. Your duty has beendone with absolute conscientiousness, and you have thereby rendereda great service to the expedition. I am commissioned to present youwith a gold medal from our king in recognition of the great help youhave given us. ' With these words Nansen handed to Trontheim a verylarge gold medal with a crown on it. On the obverse is the followinginscription: 'Oscar II. , King of Norway and Sweden. For the Welfare ofthe Brother-Nations. ' And on the reverse: 'Reward for valuable service, A. I. Trontheim. ' Along with this Nansen also gave Trontheim a writtentestimonial as to the admirable manner in which he had carried out hiscommission, mentioning that for this he had been rewarded with a medal. 

"Nansen determined to weigh anchor during the night of this same day, [26] and set sail on his long voyage without waiting for the coalsloop Urania, which he thought must have been delayed by the ice. Inthe evening Trontheim took leave of the whole party, with heartywishes for the success of the expedition. Along with him Herr OleChristofersen, correspondent of one of the chief London newspapers, [27] left the ship. He had accompanied Nansen from Vardö. At parting, Nansen gave them a plentiful supply of provisions, Christofersen andTrontheim having to await the arrival of the Urania, as they were togo home by her. Precisely at 12 o'clock on the night between August4th and 5th the signal for starting was given, and the Fram stoodout to sea. "

On August 7th the Urania at last arrived. As I had supposed, she had been stopped by ice, but had at last got out of ituninjured. Christofersen and Trontheim were able to sail for homein her on the 11th, and reached Vardö on the 22d, food having beenvery scarce during the last part of the time. The ship, which hadleft her home port, Brönö, in May, was not provided for so longa voyage, and these last days they lived chiefly on dry biscuits, water, and--weevils. 

CHAPTER V

VOYAGE THROUGH THE KARA SEA

It was well into the night, after Christofersen and Trontheim had leftus, before we could get away. The channel was too dangerous for us torisk it in the thick fog. But it cleared a little, and the petroleumlaunch was got ready; I had determined to go on ahead with it andtake soundings. We started about midnight. Hansen stood in the bowwith the lead-line. First we bore over towards the point of Vaigatsto the northwest, as Palander directs, then on through the strait, keeping to the Vaigats side. The fog was often so thick that it waswith difficulty we could catch a glimpse of the Fram, which followedclose behind us, and on board the Fram they could not see our boat. Butso long as we had enough water, and so long as we saw that they werekeeping to the right course behind us, we went ahead. Soon the fogcleared again a little. But the depth was not quite satisfactory; wehad been having steadily 4 1/2 to 5 fathoms; then it dropped to 4, and then to 3 1/2. This was too little. We turned and signalled tothe Fram to stop. Then we held farther out from land and got intodeeper water, so that the Fram could come on again at full speed. 

From time to time our petroleum engine took to its old tricks andstopped. I had to pour in more oil to set it going again, and as I wasstanding doing this the boat gave a lurch, so that a little oil wasspilt and took fire. The burning oil ran over the bottom of the boat, where a good deal had been spilt already. In an instant the wholestern was in a blaze, and my clothes, which were sprinkled with oil, caught fire. I had to rush to the bow, and for a moment the situationwas a critical one, especially as a big pail that was standing fullof oil also took fire. As soon as I had stopped the burning of myclothes I rushed aft again, seized the pail, and poured the flamingoil into the sea, burning my fingers badly. At once the whole surfaceof the water round was in flames. Then I got hold of the baler, andbaled water into the boat as hard as I could, and soon the worst wasover. Things had looked anything but well from the Fram, however, and they were standing by with ropes and buoys to throw to us. 

Soon we were out of Yugor Strait. There was now so little fog thatthe low land round us was visible, and we could also see a littleway out to sea, and, in the distance, all drift-ice. At 4 o'clockin the morning (August 4th) we glided past Sokolii, or Hawk Island, out into the dreaded Kara Sea. 

Now our fate was to be decided. I had always said that if we could getsafely across the Kara Sea and past Cape Cheliuskin, the worst wouldbe over. Our prospects were not bad--an open passage to the east, along the land, as far as we could see from the masthead. 

An hour and a half later we were at the edge of the ice. It was soclose that there was no use in attempting to go on through it. To thenorthwest it seemed much looser, and there was a good deal of blue inthe atmosphere at the horizon there. [28] We kept southeast along theland through broken ice, but in the course of the day went furtherout to sea, the blueness of the atmosphere to the east and northeastpromising more open water in that direction. However, about 3 P. M. Theice became so close that I thought it best to get back into the openchannel along the land. It was certainly possible that we might haveforced our way through the ice in the sea here, but also possiblethat we might have stuck fast, and it was too early to run this risk. 

Next morning (August 5th), being then off the coast near to themouth of the River Kara, we steered across towards Yalmal. We soonhad that low land in sight, but in the afternoon we got into fog andclose ice. Next day it was no better, and we made fast to a greatice-block which was lying stranded off the Yalmal coast. 

In the evening some of us went on shore. The water was so shallowthat our boat stuck fast a good way from the beach, and we had towade. It was a perfectly flat, smooth sand-beach, covered by thesea at full tide, and beyond that a steep sand-bank, 30 to 40 feet, in some places probably 60 feet, high. 

We wandered about a little. Flat, bare country on every hand. Anydriftwood we saw was buried in the sand and soaking wet. Not a birdto be seen except one or two snipe. We came to a lake, and out ofthe fog in front of me I heard the cry of a loon, but saw no livingcreature. Our view was blocked by a wall of fog whichever way weturned. There were plenty of reindeer tracks, but of course they wereonly those of the Samoyedes' tame reindeer. This is the land of theSamoyedes--and oh but it is desolate and mournful! The only one ofus that bagged anything was the botanist. Beautiful flowers smiledto us here and there among the sand-mounds--the one message from abrighter world in this land of fogs. We went far in over the flats, but came only to sheets of water, with low spits running out into them, and ridges between. We often heard the cry of loons on the water, but could never catch sight of one. All these lakelets were of aremarkable, exactly circular conformation, with steep banks all round, just as if each had dug out a hole for itself in the sandy plain. 

With the oars of our boat and a large tarpaulin we had made a sortof tent. We were lucky enough to find a little dry wood, and soon thetent was filled with the fragrant odor of hot coffee. When we had eatenand drunk and our pipes were lit, Johansen, in spite of fatigue anda full meal, surprised us by turning one somersault after another onthe heavy, damp sand in front of the tent in his long military cloakand sea-boots half full of water. 

By 6. 30 next morning we were on board again. The fog had cleared, but the ice, which lay drifting backward and forward according to theset of the tide, looked as close as ever towards the north. Duringthe morning we had a visit from a boat with two stalwart Samoyedes, who were well received and treated to food and tobacco. They gave usto understand that they were living in a tent some distance inlandand farther north. Presently they went off again, enriched withgifts. These were the last human beings we met. 

Next day the ice was still close, and, as there was nothing else tobe done, some of us went ashore again in the afternoon, partly to seemore of this little-known coast, and partly, if possible, to find theSamoyedes' camp, and get hold of some skins and reindeer flesh. Itis a strange, flat country. Nothing but sand, sand everywhere. Stillflatter, still more desolate than the country about Yugor Strait, with a still wider horizon. Over the plain lay a green carpet of grassand moss, here and there spoiled by the wind having torn it up andswept sand over it. But trudge as we might, and search as we might, we found no Samoyede camp. We saw three men in the far distance, butthey went off as fast as they could the moment they caught sight ofus. There was little game--just a few ptarmigan, golden plovers, andlong-tailed ducks. Our chief gain was another collection of plants, and a few geological and geographical notes. Our observations showedthat the land at this place was charted not less than half a degreeor 36 to 38 minutes too far west. 

It was not till next forenoon (August 9th) that we went on boardagain. The ice to the north now seemed to be rather looser, and at8 P. M. We at last began once more to make our way north. We foundice that was easy to get through, and held on our course until, three days later, we got into open water. On Sunday, August 18th, we stood out into the open Kara Sea, past the north point of Yalmaland Bieloi-Ostrov (White Island). There was no ice to be seen inany direction. During the days that followed we had constant strongeast winds, often increasing to half a gale. We kept on tacking tomake our way eastward, but the broad and keelless Fram can hardly becalled a good "beater"; we made too much leeway, and our progress wascorrespondingly slow. In the journal there is a constantly recurringentry of "Head-wind, " "Head-wind. " The monotony was extreme; but asthey may be of interest as relating to the navigation of this sea, I shall give the most important items of the journal, especiallythose regarding the state of the ice. 

On Monday, August 14th, we beat with only sail against a strongwind. Single pieces of ice were seen during the middle watch, butafter that there was none within sight. 

Tuesday, August 15th. The wind slackened in the middle watch; wetook in sail and got up steam. At 5 in the morning we steamed awayeast over a sea perfectly clear of ice; but after mid-day the windbegan to freshen again from E. N. E. , and we had to beat with steamand sail. Single floes of ice were seen during the evening and night. 

Wednesday, August 16th. As the Kara Sea seemed so extraordinarilyfree from ice, and as a heavy sea was running from the northeast, we decided to hold north as far as we could, even if it should beto the Einsamkeit (Lonely) Island. But about half-past three inthe afternoon we had a strip of close ice ahead, so that we had toturn. Stiff breeze and sea. Kept on beating east along the edge ofthe ice. Almost lost the petroleum launch in the evening. The waveswere constantly breaking into it and filling it, the gunwale was burstin at two places, and the heavy davits it hung on were twisted as ifthey had been copper wires. Only just in the nick of time, with thewaves washing over us, some of us managed to get it lashed to theside of the ship. There seemed to be some fatality about this boat. 

Thursday, August 17th. Still beating eastward under sail and steamthrough scattered ice, and along a margin of fixed ice. Still blowinghard, with a heavy sea as soon as we headed a little out from the ice. 

Friday, August 18th. Continued storm. Stood southeast. At 4. 30 A. M. , Sverdrup, who had gone up into the crow's-nest to look out for bearsand walrus on the ice-floes, saw land to the south of us. At 10 A. M. Iwent up to look at it--we were then probably not more than 10 milesaway from it. It was low land, seemingly of the same formation asYalmal, with steep sand-banks, and grass-grown above. The sea grewshallower as we neared it. Not far from us, small icebergs layaground. The lead showed steadily less and less water; by 11. 30A. M. There were only some 8 fathoms; then, to our surprise, thebottom suddenly fell to 20 fathoms, and after that we found steadilyincreasing depth. Between the land and the blocks of stranded ice onour lee there appeared to be a channel with rather deeper water andnot so much ice aground in it. It seemed difficult to conceive thatthere should be undiscovered land here, where both Nordenskiöld andEdward Johansen, and possibly several Russians, had passed withoutseeing anything. Our observations, however, were incontestable, andwe immediately named the land Sverdrup's Island, after its discoverer. 

As there was still a great deal of ice to windward, we continued oursouthwesterly course, keeping as close to the wind as possible. Theweather was clear, and at 8 o'clock we sighted the mainland, withDickson's Island ahead. It had been our intention to run in and anchorhere, in order to put letters for home under a cairn, Captain Wigginshaving promised to pick them up on his way to the Yenisei. But in themeantime the wind had fallen: it was a favorable chance, and time wasprecious. So we gave up sending our post, and continued our coursealong the coast. 

The country here was quite different from Yalmal. Though not veryhigh, it was a hilly country, with patches and even large drifts ofsnow here and there, some of them lying close down by the shore. Nextmorning I sighted the southernmost of the Kamenni Islands. We tooka tack in under it to see if there were animals of any kind, butcould catch sight of none. The island rose evenly from the sea atall points, with steep shores. They consisted for the most part ofrock, which was partly solid, partly broken up by the action of theweather into heaps of stones. It appeared to be a stratified rock, with strongly marked oblique strata. The island was also covered withquantities of gravel, sometimes mixed with larger stones; the wholeof the northern point seemed to be a sand heap, with steep sand-bankstowards the shore. The most noticeable feature of the island was itsmarked shore-lines. Near the top there was a specially pronouncedone, which was like a sharp ledge on the west and north sides, andstretched across the island like a dark band. Nearer the beach wereseveral other distinct ones. In form they all resembled the upperone with its steep ledges, and had evidently been formed in the sameway--by the action of the sea, and more especially of the ice. Likethe upper one, they also were most marked on the west and north sidesof the island, which are those facing most to the open sea. 

To the student of the history of the earth these marks of the formerlevel of the sea are of great interest, showing as they do that theland has risen or the sea sunk since the time they were formed. LikeScandinavia, the whole of the north coast of Siberia has undergonethese changes of level since the Great Ice Age. 

It was strange that we saw none of the islands which, according toNordenskiöld's map, stretch in a line to the northeast from KamenniIslands. On the other hand, I took the bearings of one or two otherislands lying almost due east, and next morning we passed a smallisland farther north. 

We saw few birds in this neighborhood--only a few flocks of geese, some Arctic gulls (Lestris parasitica and L. Buffonii), and a fewsea-gulls and tern. 

On Sunday, August 20th, we had, for us, uncommonly fine weather--bluesea, brilliant sunshine, and light wind, still from the northeast. Inthe afternoon we ran in to the Kjellman Islands. These we couldrecognize from their position on Nordenskiöld's map, but south ofthem we found many unknown ones. They all had smoothly rounded forms, these Kjellman Islands, like rocks that have been ground smooth bythe glaciers of the Ice Age. The Fram anchored on the north sideof the largest of them, and while the boiler was being refitted, some of us went ashore in the evening for some shooting. We had notleft the ship when the mate, from the crow's-nest, caught sight ofreindeer. At once we were all agog; every one wanted to go ashore, and the mate was quite beside himself with the hunter's fever, hiseyes as big as saucers, and his hands trembling as though he weredrunk. Not until we were in the boat had we time to look seriouslyfor the mate's reindeer. We looked in vain--not a living thing wasto be seen in any direction. Yes--when we were close inshore weat last descried a large flock of geese waddling upward from thebeach. We were base enough to let a conjecture escape us that thesewere the mate's reindeer--a suspicion which he at first rejected withcontempt. Gradually, however, his confidence oozed away. But it ispossible to do an injustice even to a mate. The first thing I sawwhen I sprang ashore was old reindeer tracks. The mate had now thelaugh on his side, ran from track to track, and swore that it wasreindeer he had seen. 

When we got up on to the first height we saw several reindeer onflat ground to the south of us; but, the wind being from the north, we had to go back and make our way south along the shore till we gotto leeward of them. The only one who did not approve of this planwas the mate, who was in a state of feverish eagerness to rush

straight at some reindeer he thought he had seen to the east, which, of course, was an absolutely certain way to clear the field of everyone of them. He asked and received permission to remain behind withHansen, who was to take a magnetic observation; but had to promisenot to move till he got the order. 

On the way along the shore we passed one great flock of geese afteranother; they stretched their necks and waddled aside a little untilwe were quite near, and only then took flight; but we had no time towaste on such small game. A little farther on we caught sight of one ortwo reindeer we had not noticed before. We could easily have stalkedthem, but were afraid of getting to windward of the others, whichwere farther south. At last we got to leeward of these latter also, but they were grazing on flat ground, and it was anything but easy tostalk them--not a hillock, not a stone to hide behind. The only thingwas to form a long line, advance as best we could, and, if possible, outflank them. In the meantime we had caught sight of another herd ofreindeer farther to the north, but suddenly, to our astonishment, sawthem tear off across the plain eastward, in all probability startledby the mate, who had not been able to keep quiet any longer. 

A little to the north of the reindeer nearest us there was a hollow, opening from the shore, from which it seemed that it might be possibleto get a shot at them. I went back to try this, while the others kepttheir places in the line. As I went down again towards the shore Ihad the sea before me, quiet and beautiful. The sun had gone downbehind it not long before, and the sky was glowing in the clear, light night. I had to stand still for a minute. In the midst of allthis beauty, man was doing the work of a beast of prey! At this momentI saw to the north a dark speck move down the height where the mateand Hansen ought to be. It divided into two, and the one moved east, just to the windward of the animals I was to stalk. They would getthe scent immediately and be off. There was nothing for it but tohurry on, while I rained anything but good wishes on these fellows'heads. The gully was not so deep as I had expected. Its sides were justhigh enough to hide me when I crept on all fours. In the middle werelarge stones and clayey gravel, with a little runnel soaking throughthem. The reindeer were still grazing quietly, only now and thenraising their heads to look round. My "cover" got lower and lower, and to the north I heard the mate. He would presently succeed insetting off my game. It was imperative to get on quickly, but therewas no longer cover enough for me to advance on hands and knees. Myonly chance was to wriggle forward like a snake on my stomach. But inthis soft clay--in the bed of the stream? Yes--meat is too precious onboard, and the beast of prey is too strong in a man. My clothes must besacrificed; on I crept on my stomach through the mud. But soon therewas hardly cover enough even for this. I squeezed myself flat amongthe stones and ploughed forward like a drain-cutting machine. And Idid make way, if not quickly and comfortably, still surely. 

All this time the sky was turning darker and darker red behind me, andit was getting more and more difficult to use the sights of my gun, notto mention the trouble I had in keeping the clay from them and from themuzzle. The reindeer still grazed quietly on. When they raised theirheads to look round I had to lie as quiet as a mouse, feeling the watertrickling gently under my stomach; when they began to nibble the mossagain, off I went through the mud. Presently I made the disagreeablediscovery that they were moving away from me about as fast as I couldmove forward, and I had to redouble my exertions. But the darknesswas getting worse and worse, and I had the mate to the north of me, and presently he would start them off. The outlook was anything butbright either morally or physically. The hollow was getting shallowerand shallower, so that I was hardly covered at all. I squeezed myselfstill deeper into the mud. A turn in the ground helped me forwardto the next little height; and now they were right in front of me, within what I should have called easy range if it had been daylight. Itried to take aim, but could not see the bead on my gun. 

Man's fate is sometimes hard to bear. My clothes were dripping withwet clay, and after what seemed to me most meritorious exertions, here I was at the goal, unable to take advantage of my position. Butnow the reindeer moved down into a small depression. I crept forwarda little way farther as quickly as I could. I was in a splendidposition, so far as I could tell in the dark, but I could not seethe bead any better than before. It was impossible to get nearer, for there was only a smooth slope between us. There was no sensein thinking of waiting for light to shoot by. It was now midnight, and I had that terrible mate to the north of me; besides, the windwas not to be trusted. I held the rifle up against the sky to see thebead clearly, and then lowered it on the reindeer. I did this once, twice, thrice. The bead was still far from clear; but, all the same, I thought I might hit, and pulled the trigger. The two deer gave asudden start, looked round in astonishment, and bolted off a little waysouth. There they stood still again, and at this moment were joinedby a third deer, which had been standing rather farther north. Ifired off all the cartridges in the magazine, and all to the samegood purpose. The creatures started and moved off a little at eachshot, and then trotted farther south. Presently they made anotherhalt, to take a long careful look at me; and I dashed off westward, as hard as I could run, to turn them. Now they were off straight inthe direction where some of my comrades ought to be. I expected everymoment to hear shots and see one or two of the animals fall; but awaythey ambled southward, quite unchecked. At last, far to the south, crack went a rifle. I could see by the smoke that it was at too longa range; so in high dudgeon I shouldered my rifle and lounged in thedirection of the shot. It was pleasant to see such a good result forall one's trouble. 

No one was to be seen anywhere. At length I met Sverdrup; it was hewho had fired. Soon Blessing joined us, but all the others had longsince left their posts. While Blessing went back to the boat and hisbotanizing box, Sverdrup and I went on to try our luck once more. Alittle farther south we came to a valley stretching right across theisland. On the farther side of it we saw a man standing on a hillock, and not far from him a herd of five or six reindeer. As it neveroccurred to us to doubt that the man was in the act of stalking these, we avoided going in that direction, and soon he and his reindeerdisappeared to the west. I heard afterwards that he had never seenthe deer. As it was evident that when the reindeer to the south of uswere startled they would have to come back across this valley, and asthe island at this part was so narrow that we commanded the whole ofit, we determined to take up our posts here and wait. We accordinglygot in the lee of some great boulders, out of the wind. In front ofSverdrup was a large flock of geese, near the mouth of the stream, close down by the shore. They kept up an incessant gabble, and thetemptation to have a shot at them was very great; but, consideringthe reindeer, we thought it best to leave them in peace. They gabbledand waddled away down through the mud and soon took wing. 

The time seemed long. At first we listened with all our ears--thereindeer must come very soon--and our eyes wandered incessantlybackward and forward along the slope on the other side of thevalley. But no reindeer came, and soon we were having a struggle tokeep our eyes open and our heads up--we had not had much sleep thelast few days. They must be coming! We shook ourselves awake, andgave another look along the bank, till again the eyes softly closedand the heads began to nod, while the chill wind blew through ourwet clothes, and I shivered with cold. This sort of thing went on foran hour or two, until the sport began to pall on me, and I scrambledfrom my shelter along towards Sverdrup, who was enjoying it about asmuch as I was. We climbed the slope on the other side of the valley, and were hardly at the top before we saw the horns of six splendidreindeer on a height in front of us. They were restless, scentingwestward, trotting round in a circle, and then sniffing again. Theycould not have noticed us as yet, as the wind was blowing at rightangles to the line between them and us. We stood a long time watchingtheir manoeuvres, and waiting their choice of a direction, but theyhad apparently great difficulty in making it. At last off they swungsouth and east, and off we went southeast as hard as we could go, to get across their course before they got scent of us. Sverdrup hadgot well ahead, and I saw him rushing across a flat piece of ground:presently he would be at the right place to meet them. I stopped, tobe in readiness to cut them off on the other side if they should faceabout and make off northward again. There were six splendid animals, a big buck in front. They were heading straight for Sverdrup, who wasnow crouching down on the slope. I expected every moment to see theforemost fall. A shot rang out! Round wheeled the whole flock likelightning, and back they came at a gallop. It was my turn now to runwith all my might, and off I went over the stones, down towards thevalley we had come from. I only stopped once or twice to take breath, and to make sure that the animals were coming in the direction I hadreckoned on--then off again. We were getting near each other now;they were coming on just where I had calculated; the thing now wasto be in time for them. I made my long legs go their fastest over theboulders, and took leaps from stone to stone that would have surprisedmyself at a more sober moment. More than once my foot slipped, andI went down head first among the boulders, gun and all. But the wildbeast in me had the upper hand now. The passion of the chase vibratedthrough every fibre of my body. 

We reached the slant of the valley almost at the same time--a leap ortwo to get up on some big boulders, and the moment had come--I mustshoot, though the shot was a long one. When the smoke cleared away Isaw the big buck trailing a broken hind-leg. When their leader stopped, the whole flock turned and ran in a ring round the poor animal. Theycould not understand what was happening, and strayed about wildly withthe balls whistling round them. Then off they went down the side ofthe valley again, leaving another of their number behind with a brokenleg. I tore after them, across the valley and up the other side, inthe hope of getting another shot, but gave that up and turned back tomake sure of the two wounded ones. At the bottom of the valley stoodone of the victims awaiting its fate. It looked imploringly at me, andthen, just as I was going forward to shoot it, made off much quickerthan I could have thought it possible for an animal on three legsto go. Sure of my shot, of course I missed; and now began a chase, which ended in the poor beast, blocked in every other direction, rushing down towards the sea and wading into a small lagoon on theshore, whence I feared it might get right out into the sea. At lastit got its quietus there in the water. The other one was not far off, and a ball soon put an end to its sufferings also. As I was proceedingto rip it up, Henriksen and Johansen appeared; they had just shot abear a little farther south. 

After disembowelling the reindeer, we went towards the boat again, meeting Sverdrup on the way. It was now well on in the morning, andas I considered that we had already spent too much time here, I wasimpatient to push northward. While Sverdrup and some of the otherswent on board to get ready for the start, the rest of us rowed south tofetch our two reindeer and our bear. A strong breeze had begun to blowfrom the northeast, and as it would be hard work for us to row backagainst it, I had asked Sverdrup to come and meet us with the Fram, if the soundings permitted of his doing so. We saw quantities of sealand white fish along the shore, but we had not time to go after them;all we wanted now was to get south, and in the first place to pick upthe bear. When we came near the place where we expected to find it, we did see a large white heap resembling a bear lying on the ground, and I was sure it must be the dead one, but Henriksen maintained thatit was not. We went ashore and approached it, as it lay motionless ona grassy bank. I still felt a strong suspicion that it had alreadyhad all the shot it wanted. We drew nearer and nearer, but it gaveno sign of life. I looked into Henriksen's honest face, to make surethat they were not playing a trick on me; but he was staring fixedlyat the bear. As I looked, two shots went off, and to my astonishmentthe great creature bounded into the air, still dazed with sleep. Poorbeast! it was a harsh awakening. Another shot, and it fell lifeless. 

We first tried to drag the bears down to the boat, but they weretoo heavy for us; and we now had a hard piece of work skinning andcutting them up, and carrying down all we wanted. But, bad as it was, trudging through the soft clay with heavy quarters of bear on ourbacks, there was worse awaiting us on the beach. The tide had risen, and at the same time the waves had got larger and swamped the boat, and were now breaking over it. Guns and ammunition were soaking inthe water; bits of bread, our only provision, floated round, and thebutter-dish lay at the bottom, with no butter in it. It requiredno small exertion to get the boat drawn up out of this heavy surfand emptied of water. Luckily, it had received no injury, as thebeach was of a soft sand; but the sand had penetrated with the watereverywhere, even into the most delicate parts of the locks of ourrifles. But worst of all was the loss of our provisions, for now wewere ravenously hungry. We had to make the best of a bad business, and eat pieces of bread soaked in sea-water and flavored with severalvarieties of dirt. On this occasion, too, I lost my sketch-book, with some sketches that were of value to me. 

It was no easy task to get our heavy game into the boat with thesebig waves breaking on the flat beach. We had to keep the boat outsidethe surf, and haul both skins and flesh on board with a line; a gooddeal of water came with them, but there was no help for it. And thenwe had to row north along the shore against the wind and sea ashard as we could. It was very tough work. The wind had increased, and it was all we could do to make headway against it. Seals werediving round us, white whales coming and going, but we had no eyesfor them now. Suddenly Henriksen called out that there was a bearon the point in front. I turned round, and there stood a beautifulwhite fellow rummaging among the flotsam on the beach. As we hadno time to shoot it, we rowed on, and it went slowly in front of usnorthward along the shore. At last, with great exertions, we reachedthe bay where we were to put in for the reindeer. The bear was therebefore us. It had not seen the boat hitherto; but now it got scentof us, and came nearer. It was a tempting shot. I had my finger onthe trigger several times, but did not draw it. After all, we had nouse for the animal; it was quite as much as we could do to stow awaywhat we had already. It made a beautiful target of itself by gettingup on a stone to have a better scent, and looked about, and, aftera careful survey, it turned round and set off inland at an easy trot. 

The surf was by this time still heavier. It was a flat, shallow shore, and the waves broke a good way out from land. We rowed in till theboat touched ground and the breakers began to wash over us. Theonly way of getting ashore was to jump into the sea and wade. Butgetting the reindeer on board was another matter. There was nobetter landing-place farther north, and hard as it was to give upthe excellent meat after all our trouble, it seemed to me there wasnothing else for it, and we rowed off towards our ship. 

It was the hardest row I ever had a hand in. It went pretty well tobegin with; we had the current with us, and got quickly out from land;but presently the wind rose, the current slackened, and wave after wavebroke over us. After incredible toil we had at last only a short wayto go. I cheered up the good fellows as best I could, reminding themof the smoking hot tea that awaited them after a few more tough pulls, and picturing all the good things in store for them. We really wereall pretty well done up now, but we still took a good grip of theoars, soaking wet as we were from the sea constantly breaking overus, for of course none of us had thought of such things as oilskinsin yesterday's beautiful weather. But we soon saw that with all ourpulling and toiling the boat was making no headway whatever. Apart fromthe wind and the sea we had the current dead against us here; all ourexertions were of no avail. We pulled till our finger-tips felt as ifthey were bursting; but the most we could manage was to keep the boatwhere it was; if we slackened an instant it drifted back. I tried toencourage my comrades: "Now we made a little way! It was just strengththat was needed!" But all to no purpose. The wind whistled round ourears, and the spray dashed over us. It was maddening to be so nearthe ship that it seemed as if we could almost reach out to her, andyet feel that it was impossible to get on any farther. We had to go inunder the land again, where we had the current with us, and here we didsucceed in making a little progress. We rowed hard till we were aboutabreast of the ship; then we once more tried to sheer across to her, but no sooner did we get into the current again than it mercilesslydrove us back. Beaten again! And again we tried the same manoeuvre withthe same result. Now we saw them lowering a buoy from the ship--if wecould only reach it we were saved; but we did not reach it. They werenot exactly blessings that we poured on those on board. Why the deucecould they not bear down to us when they saw the straits we were in;or why, at any rate, could they not ease up the anchor, and let theship drift a little in our direction? They saw how little was neededto enable us to reach them. Perhaps they had their reasons. 

We would make our last desperate attempt. We went at it with awill. Every muscle was strained to the utmost--it was only the buoywe had to reach this time. But to our rage we now saw the buoy beinghauled up. We rowed a little way on, to the windward of the Fram, and then tried again to sheer over. This time we got nearer her thanwe had ever been before; but we were disappointed in still seeing nobuoy, and none was thrown over; there was not even a man to be seenon deck. We roared like madmen for a buoy--we had no strength left foranother attempt. It was not a pleasing prospect to have to drift back, and go ashore again in our wet clothes--we would get on board! Oncemore we yelled like wild Indians, and now they came rushing aft andthrew out the buoy in our direction. One more cry to my mates that wemust put our last strength into the work. There were only a few boatlengths to cover; we bent to our oars with a will. Now there were threeboat lengths. Another desperate spurt. Now there were two and a halfboat lengths--presently two--then only one! A few more frantic pulls, and there was a little less. "Now, boys, one or two more hard pullsand it's over! Hard! hard!! Keep to it! Now another! Don't give up! Onemore! There, we have it!!!" And one joyful sigh of relief passed roundthe boat. "Keep the oars going or the rope will break. Row, boys!" Androw we did, and soon they had hauled us alongside of the Fram. Nottill we were lying there getting our bearskins and flesh hauled onboard did we really know what we had had to fight against. The currentwas running along the side of the ship like a rapid river. At lastwe were actually on board. It was evening by this time, and it wassplendid to get some good hot food and then stretch one's limbs in acomfortable dry berth. There is a satisfaction in feeling that onehas exerted one's self to some purpose. Here was the net result offour-and-twenty hours' hard toil: we had shot two reindeer which wedid not get, got two bears that we had no use for, and had totallyruined one suit of clothes. Two washings had not the smallest effectupon them, and they hung on deck to air for the rest of this trip. 

I slept badly that night, for this is what I find in my diary: "Got onboard after what I think was the hardest row I ever had. Slept wellfor a little, but am now lying tossing about in my berth, unable tosleep. Is it the coffee I drank after supper? or the cold tea I drankwhen I awoke with a burning thirst? I shut my eyes and try again timeafter time, but to no purpose. And now memory's airy visions stealsoftly over my soul. Gleam after gleam breaks through the mist. Isee before me sunlit landscapes--smiling fields and meadows, green, leafy trees and woods, and blue mountain ridges. The singing of thesteam in the boiler-pipe turns to bell-ringing--church bells--ringingin Sabbath peace over Vestre-Aker on this beautiful summer morning. Iam walking with father along the avenue of small birch-trees thatmother planted, up towards the church, which lies on the height beforeus, pointing up into the blue sky and sending its call far over thecountry-side. From up there you can see a long way. Næsodden looksquite close in the clear air, especially on an autumn morning. Andwe give a quiet Sunday greeting to the people that drive past us, allgoing our way. What a look of Sunday happiness dwells on their faces!

"I did not think it all so delightful then, and would much ratherhave run off to the woods with my bow and arrow after squirrels--butnow--how fair, how wonderfully beautiful that sunlit picture seemsto me! The feeling of peace and happiness that even then no doubtmade its impression, though only a passing one, comes back now withredoubled strength, and all nature seems one mighty, thrilling songof praise! Is it because of the contrast with this poor, barren, sunless land of mists--without a tree, without a bush--nothingbut stones and clay? No peace in it either--nothing but an endlessstruggle to get north, always north, without a moment's delay. Oh, how one yearns for a little careless happiness!"

Next day we were again ready to sail, and I tried to force the Framon under steam against wind and current. But the current ran strongas a river, and we had to be specially careful with the helm; if wegave her the least thing too much she would take a sheer, and weknew there were shallows and rocks on all sides. We kept the leadgoing constantly. For a time all went well, and we made way slowly, but suddenly she took a sheer and refused to obey her helm. She wentoff to starboard. The lead indicated shallow water. The same momentcame the order, "Let go the anchor!" And to the bottom it went witha rush and a clank. There we lay with 4 fathoms of water under thestern and 9 fathoms in front at the anchor. We were not a moment toosoon. We got the Fram's head straight to the wind, and tried again, time after time, but always with the same result. The attempt had tobe given up. There was still the possibility of making our way out ofthe sound to leeward of the land, but the water got quickly shallowthere, and we might come on rocks at any moment. We could have goneon in front with the boat and sounded, but I had already had morethan enough of rowing in that current. For the present we must staywhere we were and anoint ourselves with the ointment called Patience, a medicament of which every polar expedition ought to lay in a largesupply. We hoped on for a change, but the current remained as it was, and the wind certainly did not decrease. I was in despair at having tolie here for nothing but this cursed current, with open sea outside, perhaps as far as Cape Chelyuskin, that eternal cape, whose name hadbeen sounding in my ears for the last three weeks. 

When I came on deck next morning (August 23d) winter had come. Therewas white snow on the deck, and on every little projection of therigging where it had found shelter from the wind; white snow onthe land, and white snow floating through the air. Oh, how the snowrefreshes one's soul, and drives away all the gloom and sadness fromthis sullen land of fogs! Look at it scattered so delicately, as if bya loving hand, over the stones and the grass-flats on shore! But windand current are much as they were, and during the day the wind blowsup to a regular storm, howling and rattling in the Fram's rigging. 

The following day (August 24th) I had quite made up my mind that wemust get out some way or other. When I came on deck in the morning thewind had gone down considerably, and the current was not so strong. Aboat would almost be able to row against it; anyhow one could beeased away by a line from the stern, and keep on taking soundingsthere, while we "kedged" the Fram with her anchor just clear of thebottom. But before having recourse to this last expedient I would makeanother attempt to go against the wind and the current. The engineerswere ordered to put on as much pressure of steam as they dared, and theFram was urged on at her top speed. Our surprise was not small whenwe saw that we were making way, and even at a tolerable rate. Soonwe were out of the sound or "Knipa" (nipper) as we christened it, and could beat out to sea with steam and sail. Of course, we had, asusual, contrary wind and thick weather. There is ample space betweenevery little bit of sunshine in these quarters. 

Next day we kept on beating northward between the edge of the iceand the land. The open channel was broad to begin with, but farthernorth it became so narrow that we could often see the coast when weput about at the edge of the ice. At this time we passed many unknownislands and groups of islands. There was evidently plenty of occupationhere, for any one who could spare the time, in making a chart of thecoast. Our voyage had another aim, and all that we could do was tomake a few occasional measurements of the same nature as Nordenskiöldhad made before us. 

On August 25th I noted in my diary that in the afternoon we had sevenislands in sight. They were higher than those we had seen before, and consisted of precipitous hills. There were also small glaciersor snow-fields, and the rock formation showed clear traces of erosionby ice or snow, this being especially the case on the largest island, where there were even small valleys, partially filled with snow. 

This is the record of August 26th: "Many new islands in variousdirections. There are here, " the diary continues, "any number ofunknown islands, so many that one's head gets confused in trying tokeep account of them all. In the morning we passed a very rocky one, and beyond it I saw two others. After them land or islands fartherto the north and still more to the northeast. We had to go out of ourcourse in the afternoon, because we dared not pass between two largeislands on account of possible shoals. The islands were round in form, like those we had seen farther back, but were of a good height. Nowwe held east again, with four biggish islands and two islets in theoffing. On our other side we presently had a line of flat islandswith steep shores. The channel was far from safe here. In the eveningwe suddenly noticed large stones standing up above the water amongsome ice-floes close on our port bow, and on our starboard beam was ashoal with stranded ice-floes. We sounded, but found over 21 fathomsof water. "

I think this will suffice to give an idea of the nature of thiscoast. Its belt of skerries, though it certainly cannot be classedwith the Norwegian one, is yet of the kind that it would be difficultto find except off glacier-formed coasts. This tends to strengthenthe opinion I had formed of there having been a glacial period in theearlier history of this part of the world also. Of the coast itself, we unfortunately saw too little at any distance from which we couldget an accurate idea of its formation and nature. We could not keepnear land, partly because of the thick weather, and partly becauseof the number of islands. The little I did see was enough to giveme the conviction that the actual coast line differs essentiallyfrom the one we know from maps; it is much more winding and indentedthan it is shown to be. I even several times thought that I saw theopenings into deep fjords, and more than once the suspicion occurredto me that this was a typical fjord country we were sailing past, in spite of the hills being comparatively low and rounded. In thissupposition I was to be confirmed by our experiences farther north. 

Our record of August 27th reads as follows: "Steamed among a varietyof small islands and islets. Thick fog in the morning. At 12 noonwe saw a small island right ahead, and therefore changed our courseand went north. We were soon close to the ice, and after 3 in theafternoon held northeast along its edge. Sighted land when the fogcleared a little, and were about a mile off it at 7 P. M. "

It was the same striated, rounded land, covered with clay and largeand small stones strewn over moss and grass flats. Before us we sawpoints and headlands, with islands outside, and sounds and fjordsbetween; but it was all locked up in ice, and we could not see farfor the fog. There was that strange Arctic hush and misty light overeverything--that grayish-white light caused by the reflection from theice being cast high into the air against masses of vapor, the dark landoffering a wonderful contrast. We were not sure whether this was theland near Taimur Sound or that by Cape Palander, but were agreed thatin any case it would be best to hold a northerly course, so as to keepclear of Almquist's Islands, which Nordenskiöld marks on his map aslying off Taimur Island. If we shaped our course for one watch north, or north to west, we should be safe after that, and be able again tohold farther east. But we miscalculated, after all. At midnight weturned northeastward, and at 4 A. M. (August 28th) land appeared out ofthe fog about half a mile off. It seemed to Sverdrup, who was on deck, the highest that we had seen since we left Norway. He consequentlytook it to be the mainland, and wished to keep well outside of it, but was obliged to turn from this course because of ice. We held tothe W. S. W. , and it was not till 9 A. M. That we rounded the westernpoint of a large island and could steer north again. East of us weremany islands or points with solid ice between them, and we followedthe edge of the ice. All the morning we went north along the landagainst a strong current. There seemed to be no end to this land. Itsdiscrepancy with every known map grew more and more remarkable, andI was in no slight dilemma. We had for long been far to the north ofthe most northern island indicated by Nordenskiöld. [29] My diarythis day tells of great uncertainty. "This land (or these islands, or whatever it is) goes confoundedly far north. If it is a group ofislands they are tolerably large ones. It has often the appearance ofconnected land, with fjords and points; but the weather is too thickfor us to get a proper view. . . . Can this that we are now coastingalong be the Taimur's Island of the Russian maps (or more precisely, Lapteff's map), and is it separated from the mainland by the broadstrait indicated by him, while Nordenskiöld's Taimur Island is whatLapteff has mapped as a projecting tongue of land? This suppositionwould explain everything, and our observations would also fit in withit. Is it possible that Nordenskiöld found this strait, and took itfor Taimur Strait, while in reality it was a new one; and that he sawAlmquist's Islands, but had no suspicion that Taimur Island lay tothe outside of them? The difficulty about this explanation is that theRussian maps mark no islands round Taimur Island. It is inconceivablethat any one should have travelled all about here in sledges withoutseeing all these small islands that lie scattered around. [30]

"In the afternoon the water-gauge of the boiler got choked up; we hadto stop to have it repaired, and therefore made fast to the edge of theice. We spent the time in taking in drinking-water. We found a pool onthe ice, so small that we thought it would only do to begin with; butit evidently had a "subterranean" communication with other fresh-waterponds on the floe. To our astonishment it proved inexhaustible, howevermuch we scooped. In the evening we stood in to the head of an ice bay, which opened out opposite the most northern island we then had insight. There was no passage beyond. The broken drift-ice lay packedso close in on the unbroken land-ice that it was impossible to tellwhere the one ended and the other began. We could see islands stillfarther to the northeast. From the atmosphere it seemed as if theremight also be open water in that direction. To the north it all lookedvery close, but to the west there was an open waterway as far as onecould see from the masthead. I was in some doubt as to what shouldbe done. There was an open channel for a short way up past the northpoint of the nearest island, but farther to the east the ice seemedto be close. It might be possible to force our way through there, but it was just as likely that we should be frozen in; so I thoughtit most judicious to go back and make another attempt between theseislands and that mainland which I had some difficulty in believingthat Sverdrup had seen in the morning. 

"Thursday, August 20th. Still foggy weather. New islands were observedon the way back. Sverdrup's high land did not come to much. It turnedout to be an island, and that a low one. It is wonderful the waythings loom up in the fog. This reminded me of the story of the pilotat home in the Dröbak Channel. He suddenly saw land right in front, and gave the order, 'Full speed astern!' Then they approached carefullyand found that it was half a baling-can floating in the water. "

After passing a great number of new islands we got into open wateroff Taimur Island, and steamed in still weather through the sound tothe northeast. At 5 in the afternoon I saw from the crow's-nest thickice ahead, which blocked farther progress. It stretched from TaimurIsland right across to the islands south of it. On the ice beardedseals (Phoca barbata) were to be seen in all directions, and we sawone walrus. We approached the ice to make fast to it, but the Fram hadgot into dead-water, and made hardly any way, in spite of the enginegoing full pressure. It was such slow work that I thought I would rowahead to shoot seal. In the meantime the Fram advanced slowly to theedge of the ice with her machinery still going at full speed. 

For the moment we had simply to give up all thoughts of gettingon. It was most likely, indeed, that only a few miles of solid icelay between us and the probably open Taimur Sea; but to break throughthis ice was an impossibility. It was too thick, and there were noopenings in it. Nordenskiöld had steamed through here earlier inthe year (August 18, 1878) without the slightest hinderance, [31]and here, perhaps, our hopes, for this year at any rate, were to bewrecked. It was not possible that the ice should melt before winterset in in earnest. The only thing to save us would be a proper stormfrom the southwest. Our other slight hope lay in the possibility thatNordenskiöld's Taimur Sound farther south might be open, and that wemight manage to get the Fram through there, in spite of Nordenskiöldhaving said distinctly "that it is too shallow to allow of the passageof vessels of any size. "

After having been out in the kayak and boat and shot some seals, we went on to anchor in a bay that lay rather farther south, where it seemed as if there would be a little shelter in case of astorm. We wanted now to have a thorough cleaning out of the boiler, a very necessary operation. It took us more than one watch to steama distance we could have rowed in half an hour or less. We couldhardly get on at all for the dead-water, and we swept the whole seaalong with us. It is a peculiar phenomenon, this dead-water. We hadat present a better opportunity of studying it than we desired. Itoccurs where a surface layer of fresh water rests upon the salt waterof the sea, and this fresh water is carried along with the ship, gliding on the heavier sea beneath as if on a fixed foundation. Thedifference between the two strata was in this case so great that, while we had drinking-water on the surface, the water we got fromthe bottom cock of the engine-room was far too salt to be used forthe boiler. Dead-water manifests itself in the form of larger orsmaller ripples or waves stretching across the wake, the one behindthe other, arising sometimes as far forward as almost amidships. Wemade loops in our course, turned sometimes right round, tried allsorts of antics to get clear of it, but to very little purpose. Themoment the engine stopped it seemed as if the ship were sucked back. Inspite of the Fram's weight and the momentum she usually has, we couldin the present instance go at full speed till within a fathom or twoof the edge of the ice, and hardly feel a shock when she touched. 

Just as we were approaching we saw a fox jumping backward and forwardon the ice, taking the most wonderful leaps and enjoying life. Sverdrupsent a ball from the forecastle which put an end to it on the spot. 

About midday two bears were seen on land, but they disappeared beforewe got in to shoot them. 

The number of seals to be seen in every direction was somethingextraordinary, and it seemed to me that this would be an uncommonlygood hunting-ground. The flocks I saw this first day on the icereminded me of the crested-seal hunting-grounds on the west coastof Greenland. 

This experience of ours may appear to contrast strangely with thatof the Vega expedition. Nordenskiöld writes of this sea, comparing itwith the sea to the north and east of Spitzbergen: "Another strikingdifference is the scarcity of warm-blooded animals in this region asyet unvisited by the hunter. We had not seen a single bird in thewhole course of the day, a thing that had never before happened tome on a summer voyage in the Arctic regions, and we had hardly seena seal. " The fact that they had not seen a seal is simply enoughexplained by the absence of ice. From my impression of it, the regionmust, on the contrary, abound in seals. Nordenskiöld himself says that"numbers of seals, both Phoca barbata and Phoca hispida, were to beseen" on the ice in Taimur Strait. 

So this was all the progress we had made up to the end of August. OnAugust 18, 1878, Nordenskiöld had passed through this sound, and onthe 19th and 20th passed Cape Chelyuskin, but here was an impenetrablemass of ice frozen on to the land lying in our way at the end of themonth. The prospect was anything but cheering. Were the many prophetsof evil--there is never any scarcity of them--to prove right evenat this early stage of the undertaking? No! The Taimur Strait mustbe attempted, and should this attempt fail another last one shouldbe made outside all the islands again. Possibly the ice masses outthere might in the meantime have drifted and left an open way. Wecould not stop here. 

September came in with a still, melancholy snowfall, and thisdesolate land, with its low, rounded heights, soon lay under a deepcovering. It did not add to our cheerfulness to see winter thus gentlyand noiselessly ushered in after an all too short summer. 

On September 2d the boiler was ready at last, was filled with freshwater from the sea surface, and we prepared to start. While thispreparation was going on Sverdrup and I went ashore to have a lookafter reindeer. The snow was lying thick, and if it had not been sowet we could have used our snow-shoes. As it was, we tramped about inthe heavy slush without them, and without seeing so much as the trackof a beast of any kind. A forlorn land, indeed! Most of the birds ofpassage had already taken their way south; we had met small flocks ofthem at sea. They were collecting for the great flight to the sunshine, and we, poor souls, could not help wishing that it were possible tosend news and greeting with them. A few solitary Arctic and ordinarygulls were our only company now. One day I found a belated stragglerof a goose sitting on the edge of the ice. 

We steamed south in the evening, but still followed by thedead-water. According to Nordenskiöld's map, it was only about 20 milesto Taimur Strait, but we were the whole night doing this distance. Ourspeed was reduced to about a fifth part of what it would otherwisehave been. At 6 A. M. (September 3d) we got in among some thin ice thatscraped the dead-water off us. The change was noticeable at once. Asthe Fram cut into the ice crust she gave a sort of spring forward, and, after this, went on at her ordinary speed; and henceforth wehad very little more trouble with dead-water. 

We found what, according to the map, was Taimur Strait entirely blockedwith ice, and we held farther south, to see if we could not come uponsome other strait or passage. It was not an easy matter finding our wayby the map. We had not seen Hovgaard's Islands, marked as lying northof the entrance to Taimur Strait; yet the weather was so beautifullyclear that it seemed unlikely they could have escaped us if theylay where Nordenskiöld's sketch-map places them. On the other hand, we saw several islands in the offing. These, however, lay so far outthat it is not probable that Nordenskiöld saw them, as the weather wasthick when he was here; and, besides, it is impossible that islandslying many miles out at sea could have been mapped as close to land, with only a narrow sound separating them from it. Farther south wefound a narrow open strait or fjord, which we steamed into, in orderif possible to get some better idea of the lay of the land. I satup in the crow's-nest, hoping for a general clearing up of matters;but the prospect of this seemed to recede farther and farther. What wenow had to the north of us, and what I had taken to be a projection ofthe mainland, proved to be an island; but the fjord wound on fartherinland. Now it got narrower--presently it widened out again. Themystery thickened. Could this be Taimur Strait, after all? A dead calmon the sea. Fog everywhere over the land. It was wellnigh impossibleto distinguish the smooth surface of the water from the ice, and theice from the snow-covered land. Everything is so strangely still anddead. The sea rises and falls with each twist of the fjord throughthe silent land of mists. Now we have open water ahead, now moreice, and it is impossible to make sure which it is. Is this TaimurStrait? Are we getting through? A whole year is at stake! . . . No! herewe stop--nothing but ice ahead. No! it is only smooth water with thesnowy land reflected in it. This must be Taimur Strait!

But now we had several large ice-floes ahead, and it was difficult toget on; so we anchored at a point, in a good, safe harbor, to makea closer inspection. We now discovered that it was a strong tidalcurrent that was carrying the ice-floes with it, and there could beno doubt that it was a strait we were lying in. I rowed out in theevening to shoot some seals, taking for the purpose my most preciousweapon, a double-barrelled Express rifle, calibre 577. As we were inthe act of taking a sealskin on board the boat heeled over, I slipped, and my rifle fell into the sea--a sad accident. Peter Henriksen andBentzen, who were rowing me, took it so to heart that they could notspeak for some time. They declared that it would never do to leavethe valuable gun lying there in 5 fathoms of water. So we rowedto the Fram for the necessary apparatus, and dragged the spot forseveral hours, well on into the dark, gloomy night. While we werethus employed a bearded seal circled round and round us, bobbingup its big startled face, now on one side of us, now on the other, and always coming nearer; it was evidently anxious to find out whatour night work might be. Then it dived over and over again, probablyto see how the dragging was getting on. Was it afraid of our findingthe rifle? At last it became too intrusive. I took Peter's rifle, and put a ball through its head; but it sank before we could reach it, and we gave up the whole business in despair. The loss of that riflesaved the life of many a seal; and, alas! it had cost me £28. 

We took the boat again next day and rowed eastward, to find out ifthere really was a passage for us through this strait. It had turnedcold during the night and snow had fallen, so the sea round the Framwas covered with tolerably thick snow-ice, and it cost us a gooddeal of exertion to break through it into open water with the boat. Ithought it possible that the land farther in on the north side of thestrait might be that in the neighborhood of Actinia Bay, where theVega had lain; but I sought in vain for the cairn erected there byNordenskiöld, and presently discovered to my astonishment that it wasonly a small island, and that this island lay on the south side of theprincipal entrance to Taimur Strait. The strait was very broad here, and I felt pretty certain that I saw where the real Actinia Bay cutinto the land far to the north. 

We were hungry now, and were preparing to take a meal before we rowedon from the island, when we discovered to our disappointment that thebutter had been forgotten. We crammed down the dry biscuits as bestwe could, and worked our jaws till they were stiff on the pieces wemanaged to hack off a hard dried reindeer chine. When we were tired ofeating, though anything but satisfied, we set off, giving this pointthe name of "Cape Butterless. " We rowed far in through the strait, and it seemed to us to be a good passage for ships--8 or 9 fathomsright up to the shore. However, we were stopped by ice in the evening, and as we ran the risk of being frozen in if we pushed on any farther Ithought it best to turn. We certainly ran no danger of starving, for wesaw fresh tracks both of bears and reindeer everywhere, and there wereplenty of seals in the water; but I was afraid of delaying the Fram, in view of the possibility of progress in another direction. So wetoiled back against a strong wind, not reaching the ship till nextmorning; and this was none too early, for presently we were in themidst of a storm. 

On the subject of the navigability of Taimur Strait, Nordenskiöldwrites that, "according to soundings made by Lieutenant Palander, it is obstructed by rocky shallows; and being also full of strongcurrents, it is hardly advisable to sail through it--at least, untilthe direction of these currents has been carefully investigated. " Ihave nothing particular to add to this, except that, as alreadymentioned, the channel was clear as far as we penetrated, and hadthe appearance of being practicable as far as I could see. I was, therefore, determined that we would, if necessary, try to force ourway through with the Fram. 

The 5th of September brought snow with a stiff breeze, which steadilygrew stronger. When it was rattling in the rigging in the eveningwe congratulated each other on being safe on board--it would nothave been an easy matter to row back to-day. But altogether I wasdissatisfied. There was some chance, indeed, that this wind mightloosen the ice farther north, and yesterday's experiences had given methe hope of being able, in case of necessity, to force a way throughthis strait; but now the wind was steadily driving larger masses ofice in past us; and this approach of winter was alarming--it mightquite well be on us in earnest before any channel was opened. Itried to reconcile myself to the idea of wintering in our presentsurroundings. I had already laid all the plans for the way in whichwe were to occupy ourselves during the coming year. Besides aninvestigation of this coast, which offered problems enough to solve, we were to explore the unknown interior of the Taimur Peninsula rightacross to the mouth of the Chatanga. With our dogs and snow-shoes weshould be able to go far and wide; so the year would not be a lostone as regarded geography and geology. But no! I could not reconcilemyself to it! I could not! A year of one's life was a year; and ourexpedition promised to be a long one at best. What tormented me mostwas the reflection that if the ice stopped us now we could have noassurance that it would not do the same at the same time next year;it has been observed so often that several bad ice-years come together, and this was evidently none of the best. Though I would hardly confessthe feeling of depression even to myself, I must say that it was noton a bed of roses I lay these nights until sleep came and carried meoff into the land of forgetfulness. 

Wednesday, the 6th of September, was the anniversary of mywedding-day. I was superstitious enough to feel when I awoke in themorning that this day would bring a change, if one were coming atall. The storm had gone down a little, the sun peeped out, and lifeseemed brighter. The wind quieted down altogether in the course of theafternoon, the weather becoming calm and beautiful. The strait to thenorth of us, which was blocked before with solid ice, had been sweptopen by the storm; but the strait to the east, where we had been withthe boat, was firmly blocked, and if we had not turned when we didthat evening we should have been there yet, and for no one knows howlong. It seemed to us not improbable that the ice between Cape Lapteffand Almquist's Islands might be broken up. We therefore got up steamand set off north about 6. 30 P. M. To try our fortune once more. I feltquite sure that the day would bring us luck. The weather was stillbeautiful, and we were thoroughly enjoying the sunshine. It was suchan unusual thing that Nordahl, when he was working among the coalsin the hold in the afternoon, mistook a sunbeam falling through thehatch on the coal dust for a plank, and leaned hard on it. He was not alittle surprised when he fell right through it on to some iron lumber. 

It became more and more difficult to make anything of the land, and ourobservation for latitude at noon did not help to clear up matters. Itplaced us at 76° 2' north latitude, or about 14 miles from what ismarked as the mainland on Nordenskiöld's or Bove's map. It was hardlyto be expected that these should be correct, as the weather seems tohave been foggy the whole time the explorers were here. 

Nor were we successful in finding Hovgaard's Islands as we sailednorth. When I supposed that we were off them, just on the north side ofthe entrance to Taimur Strait, I saw, to my surprise, a high mountainalmost directly north of us, which seemed as if it must be on themainland. What could be the explanation of this? I began to have agrowing suspicion that this was a regular labyrinth of islands wehad got into. We were hoping to investigate and clear up the matterwhen thick weather, with sleet and rain, most inconveniently came on, and we had to leave this problem for the future to solve. 

The mist was thick, and soon the darkness of night was added to it, sothat we could not see land at any great distance. It might seem ratherrisky to push ahead now, but it was an opportunity not to be lost. Weslackened speed a little, and kept on along the coast all night, in readiness to turn as soon as land was observed ahead. Satisfiedthat things were in good hands, as it was Sverdrup's watch, I laydown in my berth with a lighter mind than I had had for long. 

At 6 o'clock next morning (September 7th) Sverdrup roused me withthe information that we had passed Taimur Island, or Cape Lapteff, at3 A. M. , and were now at Taimur Bay, but with close ice and an islandahead. It was possible that we might reach the island, as a channel hadjust opened through the ice in that direction; but we were at presentin a tearing "whirlpool" current, and should be obliged to put backfor the moment. After breakfast I went up into the crow's-nest. It wasbrilliant sunshine. I found that Sverdrup's island must be mainland, which, however, stretched remarkably far west compared with thatgiven on the maps. I could still see Taimur Island behind me, andthe most easterly of Almquist's Islands lay gleaming in the sun tothe north. It was a long, sandy point that we had ahead, and I couldfollow the land in a southerly direction till it disappeared on thehorizon at the head of the bay in the south. Then there was a smallstrip where no land, only open water, could be made out. After that theland emerged on the west side of the bay, stretching towards TaimurIsland. With its heights and round knolls this land was essentiallydifferent from the low coast on the east side of the bay. 

To the north of the point ahead of us I saw open water; there was someice between us and it, but the Fram forced her way through. When we gotout, right off the point, I was surprised to notice the sea suddenlycovered with brown, clayey water. It could not be a deep layer, forthe track we left behind was quite clear. The clayey water seemedto be skimmed to either side by the passage of the ship. I orderedsoundings to be taken, and found, as I expected, shallower water--first8 fathoms, then 6 1/2, then 5 1/2. I stopped now, and backed. Thingslooked very suspicious, and round us ice-floes lay stranded. Therewas also a very strong current running northeast. Constantly sounding, we again went slowly forward. Fortunately the lead went on showing 5fathoms. Presently we got into deeper water--6 fathoms, then 6 1/2--andnow we went on at full speed again. We were soon out into the clear, blue water on the other side. There was quite a sharp boundary-linebetween the brown surface water and the clear blue. The muddy waterevidently came from some river a little farther south. 

From this point the land trended back in an easterly direction, and weheld east and northeast in the open water between it and the ice. Inthe afternoon this channel grew very narrow, and we got right underthe coast, where it again slopes north. We kept close along it in avery narrow cut, with a depth of 6 to 8 fathoms, but in the eveninghad to stop, as the ice lay packed close in to the shore ahead of us. 

This land we had been coasting along bore a strong resemblanceto Yalmal. The same low plains, rising very little above the sea, and not visible at any great distance. It was perhaps rather moreundulating. At one or two places I even saw some ridges of a certainelevation a little way inland. The shore the whole way seemed tobe formed of strata of sand and clay, the margin sloping steeply tothe sea. 

Many reindeer herds were to be seen on the plains, and next morning(September 8th) I went on shore on a hunting expedition. Having shotone reindeer I was on my way farther inland in search of more, whenI made a surprising discovery, which attracted all my attention andmade me quite forget the errand I had come on. It was a large fjordcutting its way in through the land to the north of me. I went as faras possible to find out all I could about it, but did not manage tosee the end of it. So far as I could see, it was a fine broad sheetof water, stretching eastward to some blue mountains far, far inland, which, at the extreme limit of my vision, seemed to slope down tothe water. Beyond them I could distinguish nothing. My imaginationwas fired, and for a moment it seemed to me as if this might almostbe a strait, stretching right across the land here, and making anisland of the Chelyuskin Peninsula. But probably it was only a river, which widened out near its mouth into a broad lake, as several of theSiberian rivers do. All about the clay plains I was tramping over, enormous erratic blocks, of various formations, lay scattered. Theycan only have been brought here by the great glaciers of the IceAge. There was not much life to be seen. Besides reindeer there werejust a few willow-grouse, snow-buntings, and snipe; and I saw tracksof foxes and lemmings. This farthest north part of Siberia is quiteuninhabited, and has probably not been visited even by the wanderingnomads. However, I saw a circular moss-heap on a plain far inland, which looked as if it might be the work of man's hand. Perhaps, afterall, some Samoyede had been here collecting moss for his reindeer;but it must have been long ago; for the moss looked quite black androtten. The heap was quite possibly only one of Nature's freaks--sheis often capricious. 

What a constant alternation of light and shadow there is in this Arcticland. When I went up to the crow's-nest next morning (September 9th)I saw that the ice to the north had loosened from the land, and Icould trace a channel which might lead us northward into open water. Iat once gave the order to get up steam. The barometer was certainlylow--lower than we had ever had it yet; it was down to 733 mm. --thewind was blowing in heavy squalls off the land, and in on the plainsthe gusts were whirling up clouds of sand and dust. 

Sverdrup thought it would be safer to stay where we were; but it wouldbe too annoying to miss this splendid opportunity; and the sunshinewas so beautiful, and the sky so smiling and reassuring. I gave ordersto set sail, and soon we were pushing on northward through the ice, under steam, and with every stitch of canvas that we could crowdon. Cape Chelyuskin must be vanquished! Never had the Fram gone sofast; she made more than 8 knots by the log; it seemed as though sheknew how much depended on her getting on. Soon we were through the ice, and had open water along the land as far as the eye could reach. Wepassed point after point, discovering new fjords and islands on theway, and soon I thought that I caught a glimpse through the largetelescope of some mountains far away north; they must be in theneighborhood of Cape Chelyuskin itself. 

The land along which we to-day coasted to the northward wasquite low, some of it like what I had seen on shore the previousday. At some distance from the low coast, fairly high mountains ormountain chains were to be seen. Some of them seemed to consist ofhorizontal sedimentary schist; they were flat-topped, with precipitoussides. Farther inland the mountains were all white with snow. At onepoint it seemed as if the whole range were covered with a sheet ofice, or great snow-field that spread itself down the sides. At theedge of this sheet I could see projecting masses of rock, but allthe inner part was spotless white. It seemed almost too continuousand even to be new snow, and looked like a permanent snow mantle. 

Nordenskiöld's map marks at this place, "high mountain chains inland";and this agrees with our observations, though I cannot assert thatthe mountains are of any considerable height. But when, in agreementwith earlier maps, he marks at the same place, "high, rocky coast, "his terms are open to objection. The coast is, as already mentioned, quite low, and consists, in great part at least, of layers of clay orloose earth. Nordenskiöld either took this last description from theearlier, unreliable maps, or possibly allowed himself to be misledby the fog which beset them during their voyage in these waters. 

In the evening we were approaching the north end of the land, butthe current, which we had had with us earlier in the day, was nowagainst us, and it seemed as if we were never to get past an islandthat lay off the shore to the north of us. The mountain height whichI had seen at an earlier hour through the telescope lay here someway inland. It was flat on the top, with precipitous sides, likethose mountains last described. It seemed to be sandstone or basalticrock; only the horizontal strata of the ledges on its sides were notvisible. I calculated its height at 1000 to 1500 feet. Out at sea wesaw several new islands, the nearest of them being of some size. 

The moment seemed to be at hand when we were at last to round thatpoint which had haunted us for so long--the second of the greatestdifficulties I expected to have to overcome on this expedition. I satup in the crow's-nest in the evening, looking out to the north. Theland was low and desolate. The sun had long since gone down behindthe sea, and the dreamy evening sky was yellow and gold. It waslonely and still up here, high above the water. Only one star wasto be seen. It stood straight above Cape Chelyuskin, shining clearlyand sadly in the pale sky. As we sailed on and got the cape more tothe east of us the star went with it; it was always there, straightabove. I could not help sitting watching it. It seemed to have somecharm for me, and to bring such peace. Was it my star? Was it thespirit of home following and smiling to me now? Many a thought itbrought to me as the Fram toiled on through the melancholy night, past the northernmost point of the old world. 

Towards morning we were off what we took to be actually the northernextremity. We stood in near land, and at the change of the watch, exactly at 4 o'clock, our flags were hoisted, and our three lastcartridges sent a thundering salute over the sea. Almost at the samemoment the sun rose. Then our poetic doctor burst forth into thefollowing touching lines:

 "Up go the flags, off goes the gun; The clock strikes four--and lo, the sun!"

As the sun rose, the Chelyuskin troll, that had so long had usin his power, was banned. We had escaped the danger of a winter'simprisonment on this coast, and we saw the way clear to our goal--thedrift-ice to the north of the New Siberian Islands. In honor of theoccasion all hands were turned out, and punch, fruit, and cigars wereserved in the festally lighted saloon. Something special in the wayof a toast was expected on such an occasion. I lifted my glass, andmade the following speech: "Skoal, my lads, and be glad we've passedChelyuskin!" Then there was some organ-playing, during which I wentup into the crow's-nest again, to have a last look at the land. I nowsaw that the height I had noticed in the evening, which has alreadybeen described, lies on the west side of the peninsula, while farthereast a lower and more rounded height stretches southward. This lastmust be the one mentioned by Nordenskiöld, and, according to hisdescription, the real north point must lie out beyond it; so thatwe were now off King Oscar's Bay; but I looked in vain through thetelescope for Nordenskiöld's cairn. I had the greatest inclination toland, but did not think that we could spare the time. The bay, whichwas clear of ice at the time of the Vega's visit, was now closed inwith thick winter ice, frozen fast to the land. 

We had an open channel before us; but we could see the edge of thedrift-ice out at sea. A little farther west we passed a couple of smallislands, lying a short way from the coast. We had to stop before noonat the northwestern corner of Chelyuskin, on account of the drift-icewhich seemed to reach right into the land before us. To judge by thedark air, there was open water again on the other side of an islandwhich lay ahead. We landed and made sure that some straits or fjords onthe inside of this island, to the south, were quite closed with firmice; and in the evening the Fram forced her way through the drift-iceon the outside of it. We steamed and sailed southward along the coastall night, making splendid way; when the wind was blowing stiffestwe went at the rate of 9 knots. We came upon ice every now and then, but got through it easily. 

Towards morning (September 11th) we had high land ahead, and hadto change our course to due east, keeping to this all day. WhenI came on deck before noon I saw a fine tract of hill country, with high summits and valleys between. It was the first view of thesort since we had left Vardö, and, after the monotonous low land wehad been coasting along for months, it was refreshing to see suchmountains again. They ended with a precipitous descent to the east, and eastward from that extended a perfectly flat plain. In the courseof the day we quite lost sight of land, and strangely enough did notsee it again; nor did we see the Islands of St. Peter and St. Paul, though, according to the maps, our course lay close past them. 

Thursday, September 12th. Henriksen awoke me this morning at 6 withthe information that there were several walruses lying on a floequite close to us. "By Jove!" Up I jumped and had my clothes on in atrice. It was a lovely morning--fine, still weather; the walruses'guffaw sounded over to us along the clear ice surface. They werelying crowded together on a floe a little to landward from us, bluemountains glittering behind them in the sun. At last the harpoons weresharpened, guns and cartridges ready, and Henriksen, Juell, and I setoff. There seemed to be a slight breeze from the south, so we rowedto the north side of the floe, to get to leeward of the animals. Fromtime to time their sentry raised his head, but apparently did not seeus. We advanced slowly, and soon we were so near that we had to rowvery cautiously. Juell kept us going, while Henriksen was ready inthe bow with a harpoon, and I behind him with a gun. The moment thesentry raised his head the oars stopped, and we stood motionless;when he sunk it again, a few more strokes brought us nearer. 

Body to body they lay close-packed on a small floe, old and youngones mixed. Enormous masses of flesh they were! Now and again oneof the ladies fanned herself by moving one of her flappers backwardand forward over her body; then she lay quiet again on her backor side. "Good gracious! what a lot of meat!" said Juell, who wascook. More and more cautiously we drew near. While I sat ready withthe gun, Henriksen took a good grip of the harpoon shaft, and asthe boat touched the floe he rose, and off flew the harpoon. But itstruck too high, glanced off the tough hide, and skipped over thebacks of the animals. Now there was a pretty to do! Ten or twelvegreat weird faces glared upon us at once; the colossal creaturestwisted themselves round with incredible celerity, and came waddlingwith lifted heads and hollow bellowings to the edge of the ice wherewe lay. It was undeniably an imposing sight; but I laid my gun to myshoulder and fired at one of the biggest heads. The animal staggered, and then fell head foremost into the water. Now a ball into anotherhead; this creature fell too, but was able to fling itself into thesea. And now the whole herd dashed in, and we as well as they werehidden in spray. It had all happened in a few seconds. But up they cameagain immediately round the boat, the one head bigger and uglier thanthe other, their young ones close beside them. They stood up in thewater, bellowed and roared till the air trembled, threw themselvesforward towards us, then rose up again, and new bellowings filledthe air. Then they rolled over and disappeared with a splash, thenbobbed up again. The water foamed and boiled for yards around--theice-world that had been so still before seemed in a moment to havebeen transformed into a raging bedlam. Any moment we might expectto have a walrus tusk or two through the boat, or to be heaved upand capsized. Something of this kind was the very least that couldhappen after such a terrible commotion. But the hurly-burly went onand nothing came of it. I again picked out my victims. They went onbellowing and grunting like the others, but with blood streaming fromtheir mouths and noses. Another ball, and one tumbled over and floatedon the water; now a ball to the second, and it did the same. Henriksenwas ready with the harpoons, and secured them both. One more was shot;but we had no more harpoons, and had to strike a seal-hook into itto hold it up. The hook slipped, however, and the animal sank beforewe could save it. While we were towing our booty to an ice-floe wewere still, for part of the time at least, surrounded by walruses;but there was no use in shooting any more, for we had no means ofcarrying them off. The Fram presently came up and took our two onboard, and we were soon going ahead along the coast. We saw manywalruses in this part. We shot two others in the afternoon, and couldhave got many more if we had had time to spare. It was in this sameneighborhood that Nordenskiöld also saw one or two small herds. 

We now continued our course, against a strong current, southward alongthe coast, past the mouth of the Chatanga. This eastern part of theTaimur Peninsula is a comparatively high, mountainous region, but witha lower level stretch between the mountains and the sea--apparentlythe same kind of low land we had seen along the coast almost thewhole way. As the sea seemed to be tolerably open and free from ice, we made several attempts to shorten our course by leaving the coastand striking across for the mouth of the Olenek; but every time thickice drove us back to our channel by the land. 

On September 14th we were off the land lying between the Chatanga andthe Anabara. This also was fairly high, mountainous country, witha low strip by the sea. "In this respect, " so I write in my diary, "this whole coast reminds one very much of Jæderen, in Norway. Butthe mountains here are not so well separated, and are considerablylower than those farther north. The sea is unpleasantly shallow;at one time during the night we had only 4 fathoms, and were obligedto put back some distance. We have ice outside, quite close; but yetthere is a sufficient fairway to let us push on eastward. "

The following day we got into good, open water, but shallow--nevermore than 6 to 7 fathoms. We heard the roaring of waves to the east, so there must certainly be open water in that direction, which indeedwe had expected. It was plain that the Lena, with its masses of warmwater, was beginning to assert its influence. The sea here was browner, and showed signs of some mixture of muddy river-water. It was alsomuch less salt. 

"It would be foolish, " I write in my diary for this day (September15th), "to go in to the Olenek, now that we are so late. Even if therewere no danger from shoals, it would cost us too much time--probably ayear. Besides, it is by no means sure that the Fram can get in there atall; it would be a very tiresome business if she went aground in thesewaters. No doubt we should be very much the better of a few more dogs, but to lose a year is too much; we shall rather head straight eastfor the New Siberian Islands, now that there is a good opportunity, and really bright prospects. 

"The ice here puzzles me a good deal. How in the world is it notswept northward by the current, which, according to my calculations, ought to set north from this coast, and which indeed we ourselveshave felt. And it is such hard, thick ice--has the appearance ofbeing several years old. Does it come from the eastward, or doesit lie and grind round here in the sea between the 'north-going'current of the Lena and the Taimur Peninsula? I cannot tell yet, but anyhow it is different from the thin, one-year-old ice we haveseen until now in the Kara Sea and west of Cape Chelyuskin. 

"Saturday, September 16th. We are keeping a northwesterly course (bycompass) through open water, and have got pretty well north, but seeno ice, and the air is dark to the northward. Mild weather, and watercomparatively warm, as high as 35° Fahr. We have the current againstus, and are always considerably west of our reckoning. Several flocksof eider-duck were seen in the course of the day. We ought to haveland to the north of us; can it be that which is keeping back the ice?"

Next day we met ice, and had to hold a little to the south to keepclear of it; and I began to fear that we should not be able to getas far as I had hoped. But in my notes for the following day (Monday, September 18th) I read: "A splendid day. Shaped our course northward, to the west of Bielkoff Island. Open sea; good wind from the west;good progress. Weather clear, and we had a little sunshine in theafternoon. Now the decisive moment approaches. At 12. 15 shaped ourcourse north to east (by compass). Now it is to be proved if mytheory, on which the whole expedition is based, is correct--if weare to find a little north from here a north-flowing current. Sofar everything is better than I had expected. We are in latitude75 1/2° N. , and have still open water and dark sky to the north andwest. In the evening there was ice-light ahead and on the starboardbow. About seven I thought that I could see ice, which, however, rose so regularly that it more resembled land, but it was too darkto see distinctly. It seemed as if it might be Bielkoff Island, anda big light spot farther to the east might even be the reflectionfrom the snow-covered Kotelnoi. I should have liked to run in here, partly to see a little of this interesting island, and partly toinspect the stores which we knew had been deposited for us here bythe friendly care of Baron von Toll; but time was precious, and tothe north the sea seemed to lie open to us. Prospects were bright, and we sailed steadily northward, wondering what the morrow wouldbring--disappointment or hope? If all went well we should reachSannikoff Land--that, as yet, untrodden ground. 

"It was a strange feeling to be sailing away north in the dark nightto unknown lands, over an open, rolling sea, where no ship, no boathad been before. We might have been hundreds of miles away in moresoutherly waters, the air was so mild for September in this latitude. 

"Tuesday, September 19th. I have never had such a splendid sail. Onto the north, steadily north, with a good wind, as fast as steam andsail can take us, and open sea mile after mile, watch after watch, through these unknown regions, always clearer and clearer of ice onemight almost say! How long will this last? The eye always turns to thenorthward as one paces the bridge. It is gazing into the future. Butthere is always the same dark sky ahead, which means open sea. Myplan was standing its test. It seemed as if luck had been on our sideever since the 6th of September. We see 'nothing but clean water, ' asHenriksen answered from the crow's-nest when I called up to him. Whenhe was standing at the wheel later in the morning, and I was on thebridge, he suddenly said: 'They little think at home in Norway justnow that we are sailing straight for the Pole in clear water. ' 'No, they don't believe we have got so far. ' And I shouldn't have believedit myself if any one had prophesied it to me a fortnight ago; buttrue it is. All my reflections and inferences on the subject had ledme to expect open water for a good way farther north; but it is seldomthat one's inspirations turn out to be so correct. No ice-light in anydirection, not even now in the evening. We saw no land the whole day;but we had fog and thick weather all morning and forenoon, so that wewere still going at half-speed, as we were afraid of coming suddenly onsomething. Now we are almost in 77° north latitude. How long is it togo on? I have said all along that I should be glad if we reached 78°;but Sverdrup is less easily satisfied; he says over 80°--perhaps 84°, 85°. He even talks seriously of the open Polar Sea, which he once readabout; he always comes back upon it, in spite of my laughing at him. 

"I have almost to ask myself if this is not a dream. One must havegone against the stream to know what it means to go with the stream. Asit was on the Greenland expedition, so it is here. 

 "'Dort ward der Traum zur Wirklichkeit, Hier wird die Wirklichkeit zum Traum!'

"Hardly any life visible here. Saw an auk or black guillemot to-day, and later a sea-gull in the distance. When I was hauling up a bucket ofwater in the evening to wash the deck I noticed that it was sparklingwith phosphorescence. One could almost have imagined one's self tobe in the south. 

"Wednesday, September 20th. I have had a rough awakening from mydream. As I was sitting at 11 A. M. , looking at the map and thinkingthat my cup would soon be full--we had almost reached 78°--therewas a sudden luff, and I rushed out. Ahead of us lay the edge ofthe ice, long and compact, shining through the fog. I had a stronginclination to go eastward, on the possibility of there being landin that direction; but it looked as if the ice extended farther souththere, and there was the probability of being able to reach a higherlatitude if we kept west; so we headed that way. The sun broke throughfor a moment just now, so we took an observation, which showed us tobe in about 77° 44' north latitude. "

We now held northwest along the edge of the ice. It seemed to me asif there might be land at no great distance, we saw such a remarkablenumber of birds of various kinds. A flock of snipe or wading birds metus, followed us for a time, and then took their way south. They wereprobably on their passage from some land to the north of us. We couldsee nothing, as the fog lay persistently over the ice. Again, later, we saw flocks of small snipe, indicating the possible proximity ofland. Next day the weather was clearer, but still there was no landin sight. We were now a good way north of the spot where Baron vonToll has mapped the south coast of Sannikoff Land, but in about thesame longitude. So it is probably only a small island, and in anycase cannot extend far north. 

On September 21st we had thick fog again, and when we had sailednorth to the head of a bay in the ice, and could get no farther, Idecided to wait here for clear weather to see if progress farther northwere possible. I calculated that we were now in about 78 1/2° northlatitude. We tried several times during the day to take soundings, but did not succeed in reaching the bottom with 215 fathoms of line. 

"To-day made the agreeable discovery that there are bugs on board. Mustplan a campaign against them. 

"Friday, September 22d. Brilliant sunshine once again, and whitedazzling ice ahead. First we lay still in the fog because we couldnot see which way to go; now it is clear, and we know just as littleabout it. It looks as if we were at the northern boundary of theopen water. To the west the ice appears to extend south again. Tothe north it is compact and white--only a small open rift or poolevery here and there; and the sky is whitish-blue everywhere on thehorizon. It is from the east we have just come, but there we couldsee very little; and for want of anything better to do we shall makea short excursion in that direction, on the possibility of findingopenings in the ice. If there were only time, what I should likewould be to go east as far as Sannikoff Island, or, better still, all the way to Bennet Land, to see what condition things are in there;but it is too late now. The sea will soon be freezing, and we shouldrun a great risk of being frozen in at a disadvantageous point. "

Earlier Arctic explorers have considered it a necessity to keep nearsome coast. But this was exactly what I wanted to avoid. It was thedrift of the ice that I wished to get into, and what I most fearedwas being blocked by land. It seemed as if we might do much worsethan give ourselves up to the ice where we were--especially as ourexcursion to the east had proved that following the ice-edge in thatdirection would soon force us south again. So in the meantime we madefast to a great ice-block, and prepared to clean the boiler and shiftcoals. "We are lying in open water, with only a few large floes hereand there; but I have a presentiment that this is our winter harbor. 

"Great bug war to-day. We play the big steam hose on mattresses, sofa-cushions--everything that we think can possibly harbor theenemies. All clothes are put into a barrel, which is hermeticallyclosed, except where the hose is introduced. Then full steam is seton. It whizzes and whistles inside, and a little forces its way throughthe joints, and we think that the animals must be having a fine hottime of it. But suddenly the barrel cracks, the steam rushes out, and the lid bursts off with a violent explosion, and is flung faralong the deck. I still hope that there has been a great slaughter, for these are horrible enemies. Juell tried the old experiment ofsetting one on a piece of wood to see if it would creep north. It wouldnot move at all, so he took a blubber hook and hit it to make it go;but it would do nothing but wriggle its head--the harder he hit themore it wriggled. 'Squash it, then, ' said Bentzen. And squashed it was. 

"Friday, September 23d. We are still at the same moorings, working atthe coal. An unpleasant contrast--everything on board, men and dogsincluded, black and filthy, and everything around white and brightin beautiful sunshine. It looks as if more ice were driving in. 

"Sunday, September 24th. Still coal-shifting. Fog in the morning, which cleared off as the day went on, when we discovered that wewere closely surrounded on all sides by tolerably thick ice. Betweenthe floes lies slush-ice, which will soon be quite firm. There isan open pool to be seen to the north, but not a large one. From thecrow's-nest, with the telescope, we can still descry the sea acrossthe ice to the south. It looks as if we were being shut in. Well, we must e'en bid the ice welcome. A dead region this; no life inany direction, except a single seal (Phoca foetida) in the water;and on the floe beside us we can see a bear-track some days old. Weagain try to get soundings, but still find no bottom; it is remarkablethat there should be such depth here. "

Ugh! one can hardly imagine a dirtier, nastier job than a spell ofcoal-shifting on board. It is a pity that such a useful thing as coalshould be so black! What we are doing now is only hoisting it from thehold and filling the bunkers with it; but every man on board must help, and everything is in a mess. So many men must stand on the coal-heapin the hold and fill the buckets, and so many hoist them. Jacobsenis specially good at this last job; his strong arms pull up bucketafter bucket as if they were as many boxes of matches. The rest ofus go backward and forward with the buckets between the main-hatchand the half-deck, pouring the coal into the bunkers; and downbelow stands Amundsen packing it, as black as he can be. Of coursecoal-dust is flying over the whole deck; the dogs creep into corners, black and toussled; and we ourselves--well, we don't wear our bestclothes on such days. We got some amusement out of the remarkableappearance of our faces, with their dark complexions, black streaksat the most unlikely places, and eyes and white teeth shining throughthe dirt. Any one happening to touch the white wall below with hishand leaves a black five-fingered blot; and the doors have a wealthof such mementos. The seats of the sofas must have their wrong sidesturned up, else they would bear lasting marks of another part of thebody; and the table-cloth--well, we fortunately do not possess such athing. In short, coal-shifting is as dirty and wretched an experienceas one can well imagine in these bright and pure surroundings. Onegood thing is that there is plenty of fresh water to wash with; wecan find it in every hollow on the floes, so there is some hope ofour being clean again in time, and it is possible that this may beour last coal-shifting. 

"Monday, September 25th. Frozen in faster and faster! Beautiful, stillweather; 13 degrees of frost last night. Winter is coming now. Hada visit from a bear, which was off again before any one got a shotat it. "

CHAPTER VI

THE WINTER NIGHT

It really looked as if we were now frozen in for good, and I did notexpect to get the Fram out of the ice till we were on the other side ofthe Pole, nearing the Atlantic Ocean. Autumn was already well advanced;the sun stood lower in the heavens day by day, and the temperaturesank steadily. The long night of winter was approaching--that dreadednight. There was nothing to be done except prepare ourselves forit, and by degrees we converted our ship, as well as we could, intocomfortable winter quarters; while at the same time we took everyprecaution to assure her against the destructive influences of cold, drift-ice, and the other forces of nature to which it was prophesiedthat we must succumb. The rudder was hauled up, so that it might notbe destroyed by the pressure of the ice. We had intended to do thesame with the screw; but as it, with its iron case, would certainlyhelp to strengthen the stern, and especially the rudder-stock, we letit remain in its place. We had a good deal of work with the engine, too; each separate part was taken out, oiled, and laid away for thewinter; slide-valves, pistons, shafts, were examined and thoroughlycleaned. All this was done with the very greatest care. Amundsenlooked after that engine as if it had been his own child; late andearly he was down tending it lovingly; and we used to tease him aboutit, to see the defiant look come into his eyes and hear him say:"It's all very well for you to talk, but there's not such anotherengine in the world, and it would be a sin and a shame not to takegood care of it. " Assuredly he left nothing undone. I don't supposea day passed, winter or summer, all these three years, that he didnot go down and caress it, and do something or other for it. 

We cleared up in the hold to make room for a joiner's workshop downthere; our mechanical workshop we had in the engine-room. The smithywas at first on deck, and afterwards on the ice; tinsmith's workwas done chiefly in the chart-room; shoemaker's and sailmaker's, andvarious odd sorts of work, in the saloon. And all these occupationswere carried on with interest and activity during the rest of theexpedition. There was nothing, from the most delicate instrumentsdown to wooden shoes and axe-handles, that could not be made onboard the Fram. When we were found to be short of sounding-line, a grand rope-walk was constructed on the ice. It proved to be a veryprofitable undertaking, and was well patronized. 

Presently we began putting up the windmill which was to drive thedynamo and produce the electric light. While the ship was going, thedynamo was driven by the engine, but for a long time past we had hadto be contented with petroleum lamps in our dark cabins. The windmillwas erected on the port side of the fore-deck, between the main-hatchand the rail. It took several weeks to get this important applianceinto working order. 

As mentioned on page 71, we had also brought with us a "horse-mill"for driving the dynamo. I had thought that it might be of servicein giving us exercise whenever there was no other physical workfor us. But this time never came, and so the "horse-mill" was neverused. There was always something to occupy us; and it was not difficultto find work for each man that gave him sufficient exercise, and somuch distraction that the time did not seem to him unbearably long. 

There was the care of the ship and rigging, the inspection of sails, ropes, etc. , etc. ; there were provisions of all kinds to be got outfrom the cases down in the hold, and handed over to the cook; therewas ice--good, pure, fresh-water ice--to be found and carried to thegalley to be melted for cooking, drinking, and washing water. Then, as already mentioned, there was always something doing in the variousworkshops. Now "Smith Lars" had to straighten the long-boat davits, which had been twisted by the waves in the Kara Sea; now it was a hook, a knife, a bear-trap, or something else to be forged. The tinsmith, again "Smith Lars, " had to solder together a great tin pail for theice-melting in the galley. The mechanician, Amundsen, would have anorder for some instrument or other--perhaps a new current-gauge. Thewatchmaker, Mogstad, would have a thermograph to examine and clean, or a new spring to put into a watch. The sailmaker might have anorder for a quantity of dog-harness. Then each man had to be his ownshoemaker--make himself canvas boots with thick, warm, wooden soles, according to Sverdrup's newest pattern. Presently there would come anorder to mechanician Amundsen for a supply of new zinc music-sheetsfor the organ--these being a brand-new invention of the leader ofthe expedition. The electrician would have to examine and clean theaccumulator batteries, which were in danger of freezing. When at lastthe windmill was ready, it had to be attended to, turned according tothe wind, etc. And when the wind was too strong some one had to climbup and reef the mill sails, which was not a pleasant occupation inthis winter cold, and involved much breathing on fingers and rubbingof the tip of the nose. 

It happened now and then, too, that the ship required to bepumped. This became less and less necessary as the water froze roundher and in the interstices in her sides. The pumps, therefore, werenot touched from December, 1893, till July, 1895. The only noticeableleakage during that time was in the engine-room, but it was nothingof any consequence: just a few buckets of ice that had to be hewnaway every month from the bottom of the ship and hoisted up. 

To these varied employments was presently added, as the most importantof all, the taking of scientific observations, which gave many of usconstant occupation. Those that involved the greatest labor were, of course, the meteorological observations, which were taken everyfour hours day and night; indeed, for a considerable part of the time, every two hours. They kept one man, sometimes two, at work all day. Itwas Hansen who had the principal charge of this department, and hisregular assistant until March, 1895, was Johansen, whose place was thentaken by Nordahl. The night observations were taken by whoever wason watch. About every second day, when the weather was clear, Hansenand his assistant took the astronomical observation which ascertainedour position. This was certainly the work which was followed withmost interest by all the members of the expedition; and it was notuncommon to see Hansen's cabin, while he was making his calculations, besieged with idle spectators, waiting to hear the result--whetherwe had drifted north or south since the last observation, and howfar. The state of feeling on board very much depended on these results. 

Hansen had also at stated periods to take observations to determinethe magnetic constant in this unknown region. These were carried onat first in a tent, specially constructed for the purpose, which wassoon erected on the ice; but later we built him a large snow hut, as being both more suitable and more comfortable. 

For the ship's doctor there was less occupation. He looked long andvainly for patients, and at last had to give it up and in despair taketo doctoring the dogs. Once a month he too had to make his scientificobservations, which consisted in the weighing of each man, and thecounting of blood corpuscles, and estimating the amount of bloodpigment, in order to ascertain the number of red-blood corpusclesand the quantity of red coloring matter (hæmoglobin) in the bloodof each. This was also work that was watched with anxious interest, as every man thought he could tell from the result obtained how longit would be before scurvy overtook him. 

Among our scientific pursuits may also be mentioned the determiningof the temperature of the water and of its degree of saltness atvarying depths; the collection and examination of such animals as areto be found in these northern seas; the ascertaining of the amount ofelectricity in the air; the observation of the formation of the ice, its growth and thickness, and of the temperature of the differentlayers of ice; the investigation of the currents in the water under it, etc. , etc. I had the main charge of this department. There remains tobe mentioned the regular observation of the aurora borealis, which wehad a splendid opportunity of studying. After I had gone on with itfor some time, Blessing undertook this part of my duties; and whenI left the ship I made over to him all the other observations thatwere under my charge. Not an inconsiderable item of our scientificwork were the soundings and dredgings. At the greater depths it wassuch an undertaking that every one had to assist; and, from the waywe were obliged to do it later, one sounding sometimes gave occupationfor several days. 

One day differed very little from another on board, and the descriptionof one is, in every particular of any importance, a description of all. 

We all turned out at eight, and breakfasted on hard bread (both ryeand wheat), cheese (Dutch-clove cheese, Cheddar, Gruyère, and Mysost, or goat's-whey cheese, prepared from dry powder), corned beef or cornedmutton, luncheon ham or Chicago tinned tongue or bacon, cod-caviare, anchovy roe; also oatmeal biscuits or English ship-biscuits--withorange marmalade or Frame Food jelly. Three times a week we hadfresh-baked bread as well, and often cake of some kind. As for ourbeverages, we began by having coffee and chocolate day about; butafterwards had coffee only two days a week, tea two, and chocolatethree. 

After breakfast some men went to attend to the dogs--give them theirfood, which consisted of half a stockfish or a couple of dog-biscuitseach, let them loose, or do whatever else there was to do for them. Theothers went all to their different tasks. Each took his turn of aweek in the galley--helping the cook to wash up, lay the table, andwait. The cook himself had to arrange his bill of fare for dinnerimmediately after breakfast, and to set about his preparations atonce. Some of us would take a turn on the floe to get some fresh air, and to examine the state of the ice, its pressure, etc. At 1 o'clockall were assembled for dinner, which generally consisted of threecourses--soup, meat, and dessert; or, soup, fish, and meat; or, fish, meat, and dessert; or sometimes only fish and meat. With the meat wealways had potatoes, and either green vegetables or macaroni. I thinkwe were all agreed that the fare was good; it would hardly have beenbetter at home; for some of us it would perhaps have been worse. And welooked like fatted pigs; one or two even began to cultivate a doublechin and a corporation. As a rule, stories and jokes circulated attable along with the bock-beer. 

After dinner the smokers of our company would march off, well fed andcontented, into the galley, which was smoking-room as well as kitchen, tobacco being tabooed in the cabins except on festive occasions. Outthere they had a good smoke and chat; many a story was told, and notseldom some warm dispute arose. Afterwards came, for most of us, ashort siesta. Then each went to his work again until we were summonedto supper at 6 o'clock, when the regulation day's work was done. Supperwas almost the same as breakfast, except that tea was always thebeverage. Afterwards there was again smoking in the galley, whilethe saloon was transformed into a silent reading-room. Good use wasmade of the valuable library presented to the expedition by generouspublishers and other friends. If the kind donors could have seen usaway up there, sitting round the table at night with heads buried inbooks or collections of illustrations, and could have understood howinvaluable these companions were to us, they would have felt rewardedby the knowledge that they had conferred a real boon--that they hadmaterially assisted in making the Fram the little oasis that it was inthis vast ice desert. About half-past seven or eight cards or othergames were brought out, and we played well on into the night, seatedin groups round the saloon table. One or other of us might go to theorgan, and, with the assistance of the crank-handle, perform some ofour beautiful pieces, or Johansen would bring out the accordion andplay many a fine tune. His crowning efforts were "Oh, Susanna!" and"Napoleon's March Across the Alps in an Open Boat. " About midnight weturned in, and then the night watch was set. Each man went on for anhour. Their most trying work on watch seems to have been writing theirdiaries and looking out, when the dogs barked, for any signs of bearsat hand. Besides this, every two hours or four hours the watch hadto go aloft or on to the ice to take the meteorological observations. 

I believe I may safely say that on the whole the time passed pleasantlyand imperceptibly, and that we throve in virtue of the regular habitsimposed upon us. 

My notes from day to day will give the best idea of our life, in allits monotony. They are not great events that are here recorded, butin their very bareness they give a true picture. Such, and no other, was our life. I shall give some quotations direct from my diary:

"Tuesday, September 26th. Beautiful weather. The sun stands muchlower now; it was 9° above the horizon at midday. Winter is rapidlyapproaching; there are 14 1/2° of frost this evening, but we do notfeel it cold. To-day's observations unfortunately show no particulardrift northward; according to them we are still in 78° 50' northlatitude. I wandered about over the floe towards evening. Nothingmore wonderfully beautiful can exist than the Arctic night. It isdreamland, painted in the imagination's most delicate tints; itis color etherealized. One shade melts into the other, so that youcannot tell where one ends and the other begins, and yet they areall there. No forms--it is all faint, dreamy color music, a far-away, long-drawn-out melody on muted strings. Is not all life's beauty high, and delicate, and pure like this night? Give it brighter colors, andit is no longer so beautiful. The sky is like an enormous cupola, blueat the zenith, shading down into green, and then into lilac and violetat the edges. Over the ice-fields there are cold violet-blue shadows, with lighter pink tints where a ridge here and there catches the lastreflection of the vanished day. Up in the blue of the cupola shine thestars, speaking peace, as they always do, those unchanging friends. Inthe south stands a large red-yellow moon, encircled by a yellow ringand light golden clouds floating on the blue background. Presently theaurora borealis shakes over the vault of heaven its veil of glitteringsilver--changing now to yellow, now to green, now to red. It spreads, it contracts again, in restless change; next it breaks into waving, many-folded bands of shining silver, over which shoot billows ofglittering rays, and then the glory vanishes. Presently it shimmersin tongues of flame over the very zenith, and then again it shoots abright ray right up from the horizon, until the whole melts away inthe moonlight, and it is as though one heard the sigh of a departingspirit. Here and there are left a few waving streamers of light, vague as a foreboding--they are the dust from the aurora's glitteringcloak. But now it is growing again; new lightnings shoot up, and theendless game begins afresh. And all the time this utter stillness, impressive as the symphony of infinitude. I have never been able tograsp the fact that this earth will some day be spent and desolateand empty. To what end, in that case, all this beauty, with not acreature to rejoice in it? Now I begin to divine it. This is thecoming earth--here are beauty and death. But to what purpose? Ah, what is the purpose of all these spheres? Read the answer, if you can, in the starry blue firmament. 

"Wednesday, September 27th. Gray weather and strong wind from thesouth-southwest. Nordahl, who is cook to-day, had to haul up somesalt meat which, rolled in a sack, had been steeping for two daysin the sea. As soon as he got hold of it he called out, horrified, that it was crawling with animals. He let go the sack and jumpedaway from it, the animals scattering round in every direction. Theyproved to be sandhoppers, or Amphipoda, which had eaten their wayinto the meat. There were pints of them, both inside and outside ofthe sack. A pleasant discovery; there will be no need to starve whensuch food is to be had by hanging a sack in the water. 

"Bentzen is the wag of the party; he is always playing some practicaljoke. Just now one of the men came rushing up and stood respectfullywaiting for me to speak to him. It was Bentzen that had told him Iwanted him. It won't be long before he has thought of some new trick. 

"Thursday, September 28th. Snowfall with wind. To-day the dogs'hour of release has come. Until now their life on board has beenreally a melancholy one. They have been tied up ever since we leftKhabarova. The stormy seas have broken over them, and they havebeen rolled here and there in the water on the deck; they have halfhanged themselves in their leashes, howling miserably; they have hadthe hose played over them every time the deck was washed; they havebeen sea-sick; in bad as in good weather they have had to lie on thespot hard fate had chained them to, without more exercise than goingbackward and forward the length of their chains. It is thus you aretreated, you splendid animals, who are to be our stay in the hour ofneed! When that time comes, you will, for a while at least, have theplace of honor. When they were let loose there was a perfect storm ofjubilation. They rolled in the snow, washed and rubbed themselves, and rushed about the ice in wild joy, barking loudly. Our floe, ashort time ago so lonesome and forlorn, was quite a cheerful sightwith this sudden population; the silence of ages was broken. "

It was our intention after this to tie up the dogs on the ice. 

"Friday, September 29th. Dr. Blessing's birthday, in honor of whichwe of course had a fête, our first great one on board. There was adouble occasion for it. Our midday observation showed us to be inlatitude 79° 5' north; so we had passed one more degree. We had nofewer than five courses at dinner, and a more than usually elaborateconcert during the meal. Here follows a copy of the printed menu:

 'FRAM'

 Menu. September 29, 1893

 Soupe à la julienne avec des macaroni-dumplings. Potage de poison (sic) avec des pommes de terre. Pudding de Nordahl. Glacé du Greenland. De la table bière de la Ringnæes. Marmalade intacte. 

 MUSIC À DINÉ (sic)

 1. Valse Myosotic. 2. Menuette de Don Juan de Mozart. 3. Les Troubadours. 4. College Hornpipe. 5. Die letzte Rose de Martha. 6. Ein flotter Studio Marsch de Phil. Farbach. 7. Valse de Lagune de Strauss. 8. Le Chanson du Nord (Du gamla, du friska. . . . ). 9. Hoch Habsburg Marsch de Kral. 10. Josse Karads Polska. 11. Vårt Land, vårt Land. 12. Le Chanson de Chaseuse. 13. Les Roses, Valse de Métra. 14. Fischers Hornpipe. 15. Traum-Valse de Millocher. 16. Hemlandssång. 'A le misérable. ' 17. Diamanten und Perlen. 18. Marsch de 'Det lustiga Kriget. ' 19. Valse de 'Det lustiga Kriget. ' 20. Prière du Freischütz. 

I hope my readers will admit that this was quite a fine entertainmentto be given in latitude 79° north; but of such we had many on boardthe Fram at still higher latitudes. 

"Coffee and sweets were served after dinner; and after a bettersupper than usual came strawberry and lemon ice (alias granitta) andlimejuice toddy, without alcohol. The health of the hero of the daywas first proposed 'in a few well-chosen words'; and then we drank abumper to the seventy-ninth degree, which we were sure was only thefirst of many degrees to be conquered in the same way. 

"Saturday, September 30th. I am not satisfied that the Fram's presentposition is a good one for the winter. The great floe on the port sideto which we are moored sends out an ugly projection about amidships, which might give her a bad squeeze in case of the ice packing. Wetherefore began to-day to warp her backward into better ice. It is byno means quick work. The comparatively open channel around us is nowcovered with tolerably thick ice, which has to be hewn and broken inpieces with axes, ice-staves, and walrus-spears. Then the capstan ismanned, and we heave her through the broken floe foot by foot. Thetemperature this evening is -12. 6° C. A wonderful sunset. 

"Sunday, October 1st. Wind from the W. S. W. And weather mild. Weare taking a day of rest, which means eating, sleeping, smoking, and reading. 

"Monday, October 2d. Warped the ship farther astern, until we found agood berth for her out in the middle of the newly frozen pool. On theport side we have our big floe, with the dogs' camp--thirty-five blackdogs tied up on the white ice. This floe turns a low, and by no meansthreatening, edge towards us. We have good low ice on the starboardtoo; and between the ship and the floes we have on both sides thenewly frozen surface ice, which has, in the process of warping, alsogot packed in under the ship's bottom, so that she lies in a good bed. 

"As Sverdrup, Juell, and I were sitting in the chart-room in theafternoon, splicing rope for the sounding-line, Peter [32] rushedin shouting, 'A bear! a bear!' I snatched up my rifle and toreout. 'Where is it?' 'There, near the tent, on the starboard side;it came right up to it, and had almost got hold of them!'

"And there it was, big and yellow, snuffing away at the tentgear. Hansen, Blessing, and Johansen were running at the top oftheir speed towards the ship. On to the ice I jumped, and off I went, broke through, stumbled, fell, and up again. The bear in the meantimehad done sniffing, and had probably determined that an iron spade, an ice-staff, an axe, some tent-pegs, and a canvas tent were tooindigestible food even for a bear's stomach. Anyhow, it was followingwith mighty strides in the track of the fugitives. It caught sightof me and stopped, astonished, as if it were thinking, 'What sort ofinsect can that be?' I went on to within easy range; it stood still, looking hard at me. At last it turned its head a little, and I gaveit a ball in the neck. Without moving a limb, it sank slowly to theice. I now let loose some of the dogs, to accustom them to this sortof sport, but they showed a lamentable want of interest in it; and'Kvik, ' on whom all our hope in the matter of bear-hunting rested, bristled up and approached the dead animal very slowly and carefully, with her tail between her legs--a sorry spectacle. 

"I must now give the story of the others who made the bear'sacquaintance first. Hansen had to-day begun to set up his observatorytent a little ahead of the ship, on the starboard bow. In the afternoonhe got Blessing and Johansen to help him. While they were hard atwork they caught sight of the bear not far from them, just off thebow of the Fram. 

"'Hush! Keep quiet, in case we frighten him, ' says Hansen. 

"'Yes, yes!' And they crouch together and look at him. 

"'I think I'd better try to slip on board and announce him, ' saysBlessing. 

"'I think you should, ' says Hansen. 

"And off steals Blessing on tiptoe, so as not to frighten the bear. Bythis time Bruin has seen and scented them, and comes jogging along, following his nose, towards them. 

"Hansen now began to get over his fear of startling him. The bearcaught sight of Blessing slinking off to the ship and set afterhim. Blessing also was now much less concerned than he had been as tothe bear's nerves. He stopped, uncertain what to do; but a moment'sreflection brought him to the conclusion that it was pleasanter tobe three than one just then, and he went back to the others fasterthan he had gone from them. The bear followed at a good rate. Hansendid not like the look of things, and thought the time had come to trya dodge he had seen recommended in a book. He raised himself to hisfull height, flung his arms about, and yelled with all the power ofhis lungs, ably assisted by the others. But the bear came on quiteundisturbed. The situation was becoming critical. Each snatchedup his weapon--Hansen an ice-staff, Johansen an axe, and Blessingnothing. They screamed with all their strength, 'Bear! bear!' andset off for the ship as hard as they could tear. But the bear held onhis steady course to the tent, and examined everything there before(as we have seen) he went after them. 

"It was a lean he-bear. The only thing that was found in its stomachwhen it was opened was a piece of paper, with the names 'Lütken andMohn. ' This was the wrapping-paper of a 'ski' light, and had beenleft by one of us somewhere on the ice. After this day some of themembers of the expedition would hardly leave the ship without beingarmed to the teeth. 

"Wednesday, October 4th. Northwesterly wind yesterday andto-day. Yesterday we had -16°, and to-day -14° C. I have workedall day at soundings and got to about 800 fathoms depth. The bottomsamples consisted of a layer of gray clay 4 to 4 1/2 inches thick, andbelow that brown clay or mud. The temperature was, strangely enough, just above freezing-point (+0. 18° C. ) at the bottom, and just belowfreezing-point (-0. 4° C. ) 75 fathoms up. This rather disposes of thestory of a shallow polar basin and of the extreme coldness of thewater of the Arctic Ocean. 

"While we were hauling up the line in the afternoon the ice crackeda little astern of the Fram, and the crack increased in breadth soquickly that three of us, who had to go out to save the ice-anchors, were obliged to make a bridge over it with a long board to get backto the ship again. Later in the evening there was some packing inthe ice, and several new passages opened out behind this first one. 

"Thursday, October 5th. As I was dressing this morning, just beforebreakfast, the mate rushed down to tell me a bear was in sight. I wassoon on deck and saw him coming from the south, to the lee of us. Hewas still a good way off, but stopped and looked about. Presently helay down, and Henriksen and I started off across the ice, and werelucky enough to send a bullet into his breast at about 310 yards, just as he was moving off. 

"We are making everything snug for the winter and for theice-pressure. This afternoon we took up the rudder. Beautiful weather, but cold, -18° C. At 8 P. M. The result of the medical inspectionto-day was the discovery that we still have bugs on board; and I donot know what we are to do. We have no steam now, and must fix ourhopes on the cold. 

"I must confess that this discovery made me feel quite ill. If bugsgot into our winter furs the thing was hopeless. So the next daythere was a regular feast of purification, according to the most rigidantiseptic prescriptions. Each man had to deliver up his old clothes, every stitch of them, wash himself, and dress in new ones from top totoe. All the old clothes, fur rugs, and such things, were carefullycarried up on to the deck, and kept there the whole winter. This wasmore than even these animals could stand; 53° C. Of cold proved tobe too much for them, and we saw no more of them. As the bug is madeto say in the popular rhyme:

 "'Put me in the boiling pot, and shut me down tight; But don't leave me out on a cold winter night!'

"Friday, October 6th. Cold, down to 11° below zero (Fahr. ). To-daywe have begun to rig up the windmill. The ice has been packing tothe north of the Fram's stern. As the dogs will freeze if they arekept tied up and get no exercise, we let them loose this afternoon, and are going to try if we can leave them so. Of course they atonce began to fight, and some poor creatures limped away from thebattle-field scratched and torn. But otherwise great joy prevailed;they leaped, and ran, and rolled themselves in the snow. Brilliantaurora in the evening. 

"Saturday, October 7th. Still cold, with the same northerly wind wehave had all these last days. I am afraid we are drifting far southnow. A few days ago we were, according to the observations, in 78°47' north latitude. That was 16' south in less than a week. Thisis too much; but we must make it up again; we must get north. Itmeans going away from home now, but soon it will mean going nearerhome. What depth of beauty, with an undercurrent of endless sadness, there is in these dreamily glowing evenings! The vanished sun hasleft its track of melancholy flame. Nature's music, which fillsall space, is instinct with sorrow that all this beauty should bespread out day after day, week after week, year after year, over adead world. Why? Sunsets are always sad at home too. This thoughtmakes the sight seem doubly precious here and doubly sad. There isred burning blood in the west against the cold snow--and to thinkthat this is the sea, stiffened in chains, in death, and that thesun will soon leave us, and we shall be in the dark alone! 'And theearth was without form and void;' is this the sea that is to come?

"Sunday, October 8th. Beautiful weather. Made a snow-shoe expeditionwestward, all the dogs following. The running was a little spoiledby the brine, which soaks up through the snow from the surface ofthe ice--flat, newly frozen ice, with older, uneven blocks breakingthrough it. I seated myself on a snow hummock far away out; the dogscrowded round to be patted. My eye wandered over the great snow plain, endless and solitary--nothing but snow, snow everywhere. 

"The observations to-day gave us an unpleasant surprise; weare now down in 78° 35' north latitude; but there is a simpleenough explanation of this when one thinks of all the northerly andnorthwesterly wind we have had lately, with open water not far to thesouth of us. As soon as everything is frozen we must go north again;there can be no question of that; but none the less this state ofmatters is unpleasant. I find some comfort in the fact that we havealso drifted a little east, so that at all events we have kept withthe wind and are not drifting down westward. 

"Monday, October 9th. I was feverish both during last night andto-day. Goodness knows what is the meaning of such nonsense. WhenI was taking water samples in the morning I discovered that thewater-lifter suddenly stopped at the depth of a little less than 80fathoms. It was really the bottom. So we have drifted south again tothe shallow water. We let the weight lie at the bottom for a little, and saw by the line that for the moment we were drifting north. Thiswas some small comfort, anyhow. 

"All at once in the afternoon, as we were sitting idly chattering, a deafening noise began, and the whole ship shook. This was the firstice-pressure. Every one rushed on deck to look. The Fram behavedbeautifully, as I had expected she would. On pushed the ice withsteady pressure, but down under us it had to go, and we were slowlylifted up. These 'squeezings' continued off and on all the afternoon, and were sometimes so strong that the Fram was lifted several feet;but then the ice could no longer bear her, and she broke it belowher. Towards evening the whole slackened again, till we lay in agood-sized piece of open water, and had hurriedly to moor her to ourold floe, or we should have drifted off. There seems to be a good dealof movement in the ice here. Peter has just been telling us that hehears the dull booming of strong pressures not far off. 

"Tuesday, October 10th. The ice continues disturbed. 

"Wednesday, October 11th. The bad news was brought this afternoonthat 'Job' is dead, torn in pieces by the other dogs. He was founda good way from the ship, 'Old Suggen' lying watching the corpse, so that no other dog could get to it. They are wretches, these dogs;no day passes without a fight. In the day-time one of us is generallyat hand to stop it, but at night they seldom fail to tear and biteone of their comrades. Poor 'Barabbas' is almost frightened out of hiswits. He stays on board now, and dares not venture on the ice, becausehe knows the other monsters would set on him. There is not a traceof chivalry about these curs. When there is a fight, the whole packrush like wild beasts on the loser. But is it not, perhaps, the law ofnature that the strong, and not the weak, should be protected? Havenot we human beings, perhaps, been trying to turn nature topsy-turvyby protecting and doing our best to keep life in all the weak?

"The ice is restless, and has pressed a good deal to-day again. Itbegins with a gentle crack and moan along the side of the ship, whichgradually sounds louder in every key. Now it is a high plaintivetone, now it is a grumble, now it is a snarl, and the ship gives astart up. The noise steadily grows till it is like all the pipes of anorgan; the ship trembles and shakes, and rises by fits and starts, oris sometimes gently lifted. There is a pleasant, comfortable feelingin sitting listening to all this uproar and knowing the strength ofour ship. Many a one would have been crushed long ago. But outsidethe ice is ground against our ship's sides, the piles of broken-upfloe are forced under her heavy, invulnerable hull, and we lie as ifin a bed. Soon the noise begins to die down; the ship sinks into itsold position again, and presently all is silent as before. In severalplaces round us the ice is piled up, at one spot to a considerableheight. Towards evening there was a slackening, and we lay again ina large, open pool. 

"Thursday, October 12th. In the morning we and our floe were driftingon blue water in the middle of a large, open lane, which stretchedfar to the north, and in the north the atmosphere at the horizon wasdark and blue. As far as we could see from the crow's-nest with thesmall field-glass, there was no end to the open water, with only singlepieces of ice sticking up in it here and there. These are extraordinarychanges. I wondered if we should prepare to go ahead. But they hadlong ago taken the machinery to pieces for the winter, so that itwould be a matter of time to get it ready for use again. Perhapsit would be best to wait a little. Clear weather, with sunshine--abeautiful, inspiriting winter day--but the same northerly wind. Tooksoundings, and found 50 fathoms of water (90 metres). We are driftingslowly southward. Towards evening the ice packed together again withmuch force; but the Fram can hold her own. In the afternoon I fishedin a depth of about 27 fathoms (50 metres) with Murray's silk net, [33] and had a good take, especially of small crustaceans (Copepoda, Ostracoda, Amphipoda, etc. ) and of a little Arctic worm (Spadella)that swims about in the sea. It is horribly difficult to manage alittle fishing here. No sooner have you found an opening to slipyour tackle through than it begins to close again, and you have tohaul up as hard as you can, so as not to get the line nipped andlose everything. It is a pity, for there are interesting hauls tobe made. One sees phosphorescence [34] in the water here wheneverthere is the smallest opening in the ice. There is by no means sucha scarcity of animal life as one might expect. 

"Friday, October 13th. Now we are in the very midst of what theprophets would have had us dread so much. The ice is pressing andpacking round us with a noise like thunder. It is piling itself up intolong walls, and heaps high enough to reach a good way up the Fram'srigging; in fact, it is trying its very utmost to grind the Fram intopowder. But here we sit quite tranquil, not even going up to look atall the hurly-burly, but just chatting and laughing as usual. Lastnight there was tremendous pressure round our old dog-floe. The icehad towered up higher than the highest point of the floe and hustleddown upon it. It had quite spoiled a well, where we till now had foundgood drinking-water, filling it with brine. Furthermore, it had castitself over our stern ice-anchor and part of the steel cable whichheld it, burying them so effectually that we had afterwards to cutthe cable. Then it covered our planks and sledges, which stood onthe ice. Before long the dogs were in danger, and the watch had toturn out all hands to save them. At last the floe split in two. Thismorning the ice was one scene of melancholy confusion, gleaming inthe most glorious sunshine. Piled up all round us were high, steepice walls. Strangely enough, we had lain on the very verge of theworst confusion, and had escaped with the loss of an ice-anchor, apiece of steel cable, a few planks and other bits of wood, and halfof a Samoyede sledge, all of which might have been saved if we hadlooked after them in time. But the men have grown so indifferent tothe pressure now that they do not even go up to look, let it thunderever so hard. They feel that the ship can stand it, and so long asthat is the case there is nothing to hurt except the ice itself. 

"In the morning the pressure slackened again, and we were soon lyingin a large piece of open water, as we did yesterday. To-day, again, this stretched far away towards the northern horizon, where the samedark atmosphere indicated some extent of open water. I now gave theorder to put the engine together again; they told me it could bedone in a day and a half or at most two days. We must go north andsee what there is up there. I think it possible that it may be theboundary between the ice-drift the Jeannette was in and the pack weare now drifting south with--or can it be land?

"We had kept company quite long enough with the old, now broken-upfloe, so worked ourselves a little way astern after dinner, as theice was beginning to draw together. Towards evening the pressure beganagain in earnest, and was especially bad round the remains of our oldfloe, so that I believe we may congratulate ourselves on having leftit. It is evident that the pressure here stands in connection with, is perhaps caused by, the tidal wave. It occurs with the greatestregularity. The ice slackens twice and packs twice in 24 hours. Thepressure has happened about 4, 5, and 6 o'clock in the morning, andalmost at exactly the same hour in the afternoon, and in between wehave always lain for some part of the time in open water. The verygreat pressure just now is probably due to the spring-tide; we hadnew moon on the 9th, which was the first day of the pressure. Thenit was just after mid-day when we noticed it, but it has been laterevery day, and now it is at 8 P. M. "

The theory of the ice-pressure being caused to a considerable extent bythe tidal wave has been advanced repeatedly by Arctic explorers. Duringthe Fram's drifting we had better opportunity than most of them tostudy this phenomenon, and our experience seems to leave no doubtthat over a wide region the tide produces movement and pressure of theice. It occurs especially at the time of the spring-tides, and more atnew moon than at full moon. During the intervening periods there was, as a rule, little or no trace of pressure. But these tidal pressuresdid not occur during the whole time of our drifting. We noticed themespecially the first autumn, while we were in the neighborhood ofthe open sea north of Siberia, and the last year, when the Fram wasdrawing near the open Atlantic Ocean; they were less noticeable whilewe were in the polar basin. Pressure occurs here more irregularly, and is mainly caused by the wind driving the ice. When one pictures toone's self these enormous ice-masses, drifting in a certain direction, suddenly meeting hinderances--for example, ice-masses drifting fromthe opposite direction, owing to a change of wind in some more orless distant quarter--it is easy to understand the tremendous pressurethat must result. 

Such an ice conflict is undeniably a stupendous spectacle. Onefeels one's self to be in the presence of titanic forces, and itis easy to understand how timid souls may be overawed and feel asif nothing could stand before it. For when the packing begins inearnest it seems as though there could be no spot on the earth'ssurface left unshaken. First you hear a sound like the thunderingrumbling of an earthquake far away on the great waste; then you hearit in several places, always coming nearer and nearer. The silentice world re-echoes with thunders; nature's giants are awakening tothe battle. The ice cracks on every side of you, and begins to pileitself up; and all of a sudden you too find yourself in the midstof the struggle. There are howlings and thunderings round you; youfeel the ice trembling, and hear it rumbling under your feet; thereis no peace anywhere. In the semi-darkness you can see it piling andtossing itself up into high ridges nearer and nearer you--floes 10, 12, 15 feet thick, broken, and flung on the top of each other as ifthey were feather-weights. They are quite near you now, and you jumpaway to save your life. But the ice splits in front of you, a blackgulf opens, and water streams up. You turn in another direction, but there through the dark you can just see a new ridge of movingice-blocks coming towards you. You try another direction, but thereit is the same. All round there is thundering and roaring, as of someenormous waterfall, with explosions like cannon salvoes. Still neareryou it comes. The floe you are standing on gets smaller and smaller;water pours over it; there can be no escape except by scrambling overthe rolling ice-blocks to get to the other side of the pack. But nowthe disturbance begins to calm down. The noise passes on, and is lostby degrees in the distance. 

This is what goes on away there in the north month after month andyear after year. The ice is split and piled up into mounds, whichextend in every direction. If one could get a bird's-eye view of theice-fields, they would seem to be cut up into squares or meshes by anetwork of these packed ridges, or pressure-dikes, as we called them, because they reminded us so much of snow-covered stone dikes at home, such as, in many parts of the country, are used to enclose fields. Atfirst sight these pressure-ridges appeared to be scattered about inall possible directions, but on closer inspection I was sure that Idiscovered certain directions which they tended to take, and especiallythat they were apt to run at right angles to the course of the pressurewhich produced them. In the accounts of Arctic expeditions one oftenreads descriptions of pressure-ridges or pressure-hummocks as highas 50 feet. These are fairy tales. The authors of such fantasticdescriptions cannot have taken the trouble to measure. During thewhole period of our drifting and of our travels over the ice-fieldsin the far north I only once saw a hummock of a greater height than23 feet. Unfortunately, I had not the opportunity of measuring thisone, but I believe I may say with certainty that it was very nearly 30feet high. All the highest blocks I measured--and they were many--hada height of 18 to 23 feet; and I can maintain with certainty thatthe packing of sea ice to a height of over 25 feet is a very rareexception. [35]

"Saturday, October 14th. To-day we have got on the rudder; theengine is pretty well in order, and we are clear to start northwhen the ice opens to-morrow morning. It is still slackening andpacking quite regularly twice a day, so that we can calculate onit beforehand. To-day we had the same open channel to the north, and beyond it open sea as far as our view extended. What can thismean? This evening the pressure has been pretty violent. The floeswere packed up against the Fram on the port side, and were onceor twice on the point of toppling over the rail. The ice, however, broke below; they tumbled back again, and had to go under us afterall. It is not thick ice, and cannot do much damage; but the force issomething enormous. On the masses come incessantly without a pause;they look irresistible; but slowly and surely they are crushedagainst the Fram's sides. Now (8. 30 P. M. ) the pressure has at laststopped. Clear evening, sparkling stars, and flaming northern lights. "

I had finished writing my diary, gone to bed, and was lying reading, in The Origin of Species, about the struggle for existence, whenI heard the dogs out on the ice making more noise than usual. Icalled into the saloon that some one ought to go up and see if it wasbears they were barking at. Hansen went, and came back immediately, saying that he believed he had seen some large animal out in thedark. "Go and shoot it, then. " That he was quite ready to do, andwent up again at once, accompanied by some of the others. A shotwent off on deck above my head, then another; shot followed shot, nine in all. Johansen and Henriksen rushed down for more cartridges, and declared that the creature was shot, it was roaring so horribly;but so far they had only indistinctly seen a large grayish-whitemass out there in the dark, moving about among the dogs. Now theywere going on to the ice after it. Four of them set off, and not faraway they really did find a dead bear, with marks of two shots. Itwas a young one. The old one must be at hand, and the dogs were stillbarking loudly. Now they all felt sure that they had seen two together, and that the other also must be badly wounded. Johansen and Henriksenheard it groaning in the distance when they were out on the ice againafterwards to fetch a knife they had left lying where the dead onehad lain. The creature had been dragged on board and skinned at once, before it had time to stiffen in the cold. 

"Sunday, October 15th. To our surprise, the ice did not slacken awaymuch during last night after the violent pressure; and, what was worse, there was no indication of slackening in the morning, now that wewere quite ready to go. Slight signs of it showed themselves a littlelater, upon which I gave orders to get up steam; and while this wasbeing done I took a stroll on the ice, to look for traces of yesterdayevening. I found tracks not only of the bear that had been killed andof a larger one that might be the mother, but of a third, which musthave been badly wounded, as it had sometimes dragged itself on itshind quarters, and had left a broad track of blood. After followingthe traces for a good way and discovering that I had no weapon todespatch the animal with but my own fists, I thought it would be aswell to return to the ship to get a gun and companions who would helpto drag the bear back. I had also some small hope that in the meantimethe ice might have slackened, so that, in place of going after game, we might go north with the Fram. But no such luck! So I put on mysnow-shoes and set off after our bear, some of the dogs with me, andone or two men following. At some distance we came to the place whereit had spent the night--poor beast, a ghastly night! Here I also sawtracks of the mother. One shudders to think of her watching over herpoor young one, which must have had its back shot through. Soon wecame up to the cripple, dragging itself away from us over the ice asbest it could. Seeing no other way of escape, it threw itself into asmall water opening and dived time after time. While we were puttinga noose on a rope the dogs rushed round the hole as if they had gonemad, and it was difficult to keep them from jumping into the waterafter the bear. At last we were ready, and the next time the creaturecame up it got a noose round one paw and a ball in the head. Whilethe others drew it to the ship, I followed the mother's tracks forsome way, but could not find her. I had soon to turn back to see ifthere was no prospect of moving the Fram; but I found that the icehad packed together again a little at the very time when we couldgenerally calculate on its slackening. In the afternoon Hansen and Iwent off once more after the bear. We saw, as I expected, that she hadcome back, and had followed her daughter's funeral procession for someway, but then she had gone off east, and as it grew dark we lost hertracks in some newly packed ice. We have only one matter for regretin connection with this bear episode, and that is the disappearanceof two dogs--'Narrifas' and 'Fox. ' Probably they went off in terroron the first appearance of the three bears. They may have been hurt, but I have seen nothing to suggest this. The ice is quiet this eveningalso, only a little pressure about 7 o'clock. 

"Monday, October 16th. Ice quiet and close. Observations on the 12thplaced us in 78° 5' north latitude. Steadily southward. This is almostdepressing. The two runaways returned this morning. 

"Tuesday, October 17th. Continuous movement in the ice. It slackeneda little again during the night; some way off to starboard there wasa large opening. Shortly after midnight there was strong pressure, and between 11 and 12 A. M. Came a tremendous squeeze; since then ithas slackened again a little. 

"Wednesday, October 18th. When the meteorologist, Johansen, was on deckthis morning reading the thermometers, he noticed that the dogs, whichare now tied up on board, were barking loudly down at something on theice. He bent over the rail astern, near the rudder, and saw the back ofa bear below him, close in at the ship's side. Off he went for a gun, and the animal fell with a couple of shots. We saw afterwards by itstracks that it had inspected all the heaps of sweepings round the ship. 

"A little later in the morning I went for a stroll on the ice. Hansenand Johansen were busy with some magnetic observations to the southof the ship. It was beautiful sunshiny weather. I was standing besidean open pool a little way ahead, examining the formation and growthof the new ice, when I heard a gun go off on board. I turned, andjust caught a glimpse of a bear making off towards the hummocks. Itwas Henriksen who had seen it from the deck coming marching towardsthe ship. When it was a few paces off it saw Hansen and Johansen, and made straight for them. By this time Henriksen had got his gun, but it missed fire several times. He has an unfortunate liking forsmearing the lock so well with vaseline that the spring works as ifit lay in soft soap. At last it went off, and the ball went throughthe bear's back and breast in a slanting direction. The animal stoodup on its hind-legs, fought the air with its fore-paws, then flungitself forward and sprang off, to fall after about 30 steps; the ballhad grazed the heart. It was not till the shot went off that Hansensaw the bear, and then he rushed up and put two revolver-balls intoits head. It was a large bear, the largest we had got yet. 

"About midday I was in the crow's-nest. In spite of the clear weather Icould not discover land on any side. The opening far to the north hasquite disappeared; but during the night a large new one has formedquite close to us. It stretches both north and south, and has nowa covering of ice. The pressure is chiefly confined to the edges ofthis opening, and can be traced in walls of packed ice as far as thehorizon in both directions. To the east the ice is quite unbrokenand flat. We have lain just in the worst pressure. 

"Thursday, October 19th. The ice again slackened a little lastnight. In the morning I attempted a drive with six of the dogs. When Ihad managed to harness them to the Samoyede sledge, had seated myselfon it, and called 'Pr-r-r-r, pr-r-r-r!' they went off in quite goodstyle over the ice. But it was not long before we came to some highpack-ice and had to turn. This was hardly done before they were offback to the ship at lightning speed, and they were not to be gotaway from it again. Round and round it they went, from refuse-heapto refuse-heap. If I started at the gangway on the starboard side, and tried by thrashing them to drive them out over the ice, roundthe stern they flew to the gangway on the port side. I tugged, swore, and tried everything I could think of, but all to no purpose. I gotout and tried to hold the sledge back, but was pulled off my feet, and dragged merrily over the ice in my smooth sealskin breeches, onback, stomach, side--just as it happened. When I managed to stop themat some pieces of pack-ice or a dust-heap, round they went again tothe starboard gangway, with me dangling behind, swearing madly that Iwould break every bone in their bodies when I got at them. This gamewent on till they probably tired of it, and thought they might aswell go my way for a change. So now they went off beautifully acrossthe flat floe until I stopped for a moment's breathing space. Butat the first movement I made in the sledge they were off again, tearing wildly back the way we had come. I held on convulsively, pulled, raged, and used the whip; but the more I lashed the fasterthey went on their own way. At last I got them stopped by stickingmy legs down into the snow between the sledge-shafts, and driving astrong seal-hook into it as well. But while I was off my guard for amoment they gave a tug. I lay with my hinder-part where my legs hadbeen, and we went on at lightning speed--that substantial part of mybody leaving a deep track in the snow. This sort of thing went on timeafter time. I lost the board I should have sat on, then the whip, thenmy gloves, then my cap--these losses not improving my temper. Onceor twice I ran round in front of the dogs, and tried to force themto turn by lashing at them with the whip. They jumped to both sidesand only tore on the faster; the reins got twisted round my ankles, and I was thrown flat on the sledge, and they went on more wildlythan ever. This was my first experience in dog driving on my ownaccount, and I will not pretend that I was proud of it. I inwardlycongratulated myself that my feats had been unobserved. 

"In the afternoon I examined the melted water of the newly formedbrownish-red ice, of which there is a good deal in the openings roundus here. The microscope proved this color to be produced by swarms ofsmall organisms, chiefly plants--quantities of diatomæ and some algæ, a few of them very peculiar in form. 

"Saturday, October 21st. I have stayed in to-day because of anaffection of the muscles, or rheumatism, which I have had for some dayson the right side of my body, and for which the doctor is 'massaging'me, thereby greatly adding to my sufferings. Have I really grown soold and palsied, or is the whole thing imagination? It is all I can doto limp about; but I just wonder if I could not get up and run withthe best of them if there happened to be any great occasion for it:I almost believe I could. A nice Arctic hero of 32, lying here in myberth! Have had a good time reading home letters, dreaming myself athome, dreaming of the home-coming--in how many years? Successful orunsuccessful, what does that matter?

"I had a sounding taken; it showed over 73 fathoms (135 m. ), so we arein deeper water again. The sounding-line indicated that we are driftingsouthwest. I do not understand this steady drift southward. There hasnot been much wind either lately; there is certainly a little fromthe north to-day, but not strong. What can be the reason of it? Withall my information, all my reasoning, all my putting of two and twotogether, I cannot account for any south-going current here--thereought to be a north-going one. If the current runs south here, howis that great open sea we steamed north across to be explained? andthe bay we ended in farthest north? These could only be produced bythe north-going current which I presupposed. The only thing whichputs me out a bit is that west-going current which we had against usduring our whole voyage along the Siberian coast. We are never goingto be carried away south by the New Siberian Islands, and then westalong the coast of Siberia, and then north by Cape Chelyuskin, thevery way we came! That would be rather too much of a good thing--tosay nothing of its being dead against every calculation. 

"Well, who cares? Somewhere we must go; we can't stay here forever. 'Itwill all come right in the end, ' as the saying goes; but I wish wecould get on a little faster wherever we are going. On our Greenlandexpedition, too, we were carried south to begin with, and thatended well. 

"Sunday, October 22d. Henriksen took soundings this morning, and found70 fathoms (129 m. ) of water. 'If we are drifting at all, ' said he, 'it is to the east; but there seems to be almost no movement. ' Nowind to-day. I am keeping in my den. 

"Monday, October 23d. Still in the den. To-day, 5 fathoms shallowerthan yesterday. The line points southwest, which means that we aredrifting northeast-ward. Hansen has reckoned out the observation forthe 19th, and finds that we must have got 10 minutes farther north, and must be in 78° 15' N. Lat. So at last, now that the wind has gonedown, the north-going current is making itself felt. Some channelshave opened near us, one along the side of the ship, and one ahead, near the old channel. Only slight signs of pressure in the afternoon. 

"Tuesday, October 24th. Between 4 and 5 A. M. There was strong pressure, and the Fram was lifted up a little. It looks as if the pressure weregoing to begin again; we have spring-tide with full moon. The iceopened so much this morning that the Fram was afloat in her cutting;later on it closed again, and about 11 there was some strong pressure;then came a quiet time; but in the afternoon the pressure began oncemore, and was violent from 4 to 4. 30. The Fram was shaken and liftedup; didn't mind a bit. Peter gave it as his opinion that the pressurewas coming from the northeast, for he had heard the noise approachingfrom that direction. Johansen let down the silk net for me about 11fathoms. It was all he could do to get it up again in time, but itbrought up a good catch. Am still keeping in. 

"Wednesday, October 25th. We had a horrible pressure last night. Iawoke and felt the Fram being lifted, shaken, and tossed about, andheard the loud cracking of the ice breaking against her sides. Afterlistening for a little while I fell asleep again, with a snug feelingthat it was good to be on board the Fram; it would be confoundedlyuncomfortable to have to be ready to turn out every time there was alittle pressure, or to have to go off with our bundles on our backslike the Tegethoff people. 

"It is quickly getting darker. The sun stands lower and lower everytime we see it; soon it will disappear altogether, if it has not doneso already. The long, dark winter is upon us, and glad shall we beto see the spring; but nothing matters much if we could only begin tomove north. There is now southwesterly wind, and the windmill, whichhas been ready for several days, has been tried at last and workssplendidly. We have beautiful electric light to-day, though the windhas not been especially strong (5-8 m. Per second). Electric lampsare a grand institution. What a strong influence light has on one'sspirits! There was a noticeable brightening-up at the dinner-tableto-day; the light acted on our spirits like a draught of good wine. Andhow festive the saloon looks! We felt it quite a great occasion--drankOscar Dickson's health, and voted him the best of good fellows. 

"Wonderful moonshine this evening, light as day; and along with itaurora borealis, yellow and strange in the white moonlight; a largering round the moon--all this over the great stretch of white, shining ice, here and there in our neighborhood piled up high bythe pressure. And in the midst of this silent silvery ice-world thewindmill sweeps round its dark wings against the deep-blue sky andthe aurora. A strange contrast: civilization making a sudden incursioninto this frozen ghostly world. 

"To-morrow is the Fram's birthday. How many memories it recalls ofthe launch-day a year ago!

"Thursday, October 26th. 54 fathoms (90 m. ) of water when the soundingswere taken this morning. We are moving quickly north--due north--saysPeter. It does look as if things were going better. Great celebrationof the day, beginning with target-shooting. Then we had a splendiddinner of four courses, which put our digestive apparatus to a severetest. The Fram's health was drunk amidst great and stormy applause. Theproposer's words were echoed by all hearts when he said that she wassuch an excellent ship for our purpose that we could not imagine abetter (great applause), and we therefore wished her, and ourselveswith her, long life (hear, hear!). After supper came strawberryand lemon punch, and prizes were presented with much ceremony and agood deal of fun; all being 'taken off' in turn in suitable mottoes, for the most part composed by the ship's doctor. There was a prizefor each man. The first prize-taker was awarded the wooden cross ofthe Order of the Fram, to wear suspended from his neck by a ribbonof white tape; the last received a mirror, in which to see hisfallen greatness. Smoking in the saloon was allowed this evening, so now pipes, toddy, and an animated game of whist ended a brightand successful holiday. 

"Sitting here now alone, my thoughts involuntarily turn to the yearthat has gone since we stood up there on the platform, and she threwthe champagne against the bow, saying: 'Fram is your name!' andthe strong, heavy hull began to glide so gently. I held her handtight; the tears came into eyes and throat, and one could not getout a word. The sturdy hull dived into the glittering water; a sunnyhaze lay over the whole picture. Never shall I forget the moment westood there together, looking out over the scene. And to think ofall that has happened these four last months! Separated by sea andland and ice; coming years, too, lying between us--it is all justthe continuation of what happened that day. But how long is it tolast? I have such difficulty in feeling that I am not to see homeagain soon. When I begin to reflect, I know that it may be long, but I will not believe it. 

"To-day, moreover, we took solemn farewell of the sun. Half of itsdisk showed at noon for the last time above the edge of the ice inthe south, a flattened body, with a dull red glow, but no heat. Nowwe are entering the night of winter. What is it bringing us? Whereshall we be when the sun returns? No one can tell. To console us forthe loss of the sun we have the most wonderful moonlight; the moongoes round the sky night and day. There is, strange to say, littlepressure just now; only an occasional slight squeeze. But the iceoften opens considerably; there are large pieces of water in severaldirections; to-day there were some good-sized ones to the south. 

"Friday, October 27th. The soundings this morning showed 52 fathoms(95 m. ) of water. According to observations taken yesterday afternoon, we are about 3' farther north and a little farther west than on the19th. It is disgusting the way we are muddling about here. We musthave got into a hole where the ice grinds round and round, and can'tget farther. And the time is passing all to no purpose; and goodnessonly knows how long this sort of thing may go on. If only a goodsouth wind would come and drive us north out of this hobble! The boyshave taken up the rudder again to-day. While they were working atthis in the afternoon, it suddenly grew as bright as day. A strangefireball crossed the sky in the west--giving a bluish-white light, they said. Johansen ran down to the saloon to tell Hansen and me;he said they could still see the bright trails it had left in itstrain. When we got on deck we saw a bent bow of light in the Triangle, near Deneb. The meteor had disappeared in the neighborhood of EpsilonCygni (constellation Swan), but its light remained for a long timefloating in the air like glowing dust. No one had seen the actualfire-ball, as they had all had their backs turned to it, and theycould not say if it had burst. This is the second great meteor ofexceptional splendor that has appeared to us in these regions. Theice has a curious inclination to slacken, without pressure havingoccurred, and every now and then we find the ship floating in openwater. This is the case to-day. 

"Saturday, October 28th. Nothing of any importance. Moonshine nightand day. A glow in the south from the sun. 

"Sunday, October 29th. Peter shot a white fox this morning close in tothe ship. For some time lately we have been seeing fox-tracks in themornings, and one Sunday Mogstad saw the fox itself. It has, no doubt, been coming regularly to feed on the offal of the bears. Shortly afterthe first one was shot another was seen; it came and smelt its deadcomrade, but soon set off again and disappeared. It is remarkablethat there should be so many foxes on this drift-ice so far fromland. But, after all, it is not much more surprising than my comingupon fox-tracks out on the ice between Jan Mayen and Spitzbergen. 

"Monday, October 30th. To-day the temperature has gone down to 18°below zero (-27° C. ). I took up the dredge I had put out yesterday. Itbrought up two pails of mud from the bottom, and I have been busy allday washing this out in the saloon in a large bath, to get the manyanimals contained in it. They were chiefly starfish, waving starfish, medusæ (Astrophyton), sea-slugs, coral insects (Alcyonaria), worms, sponges, shell-fish, and crustaceans; and were, of course, allcarefully preserved in spirits. 

"Tuesday, October 31st. Forty-nine fathoms (90 m. ) of water to-day, and the current driving us hard to the southwest. We have good windfor the mill now, and the electric lamps burn all day. The arc lampunder the skylight makes us quite forget the want of sun. Oh! light isa glorious thing, and life is fair in spite of all privations! This isSverdrup's birthday, and we had revolver practice in the morning. Ofcourse a magnificent dinner of five courses--chicken soup, boiledmackerel, reindeer ribs with baked cauliflower and potatoes, macaronipudding, and stewed pears with milk--Ringnes ale to wash it down. 

"Thursday, November 2d. The temperature keeps at about 22° belowzero (-30° C. ) now; but it does not feel very cold, the air is sostill. We can see the aurora borealis in the daytime too. I saw a veryremarkable display of it about 3 this afternoon. On the southwesternhorizon lay the glow of the sun; in front of it light clouds wereswept together--like a cloud of dust rising above a distant troopof riders. Then dark streamers of gauze seemed to stretch from thedust-cloud up over the sky, as if it came from the sun, or perhapsrather as if the sun were sucking it in to itself from the wholesky. It was only in the southwest that these streamers were dark;a little higher up, farther from the sun-glow, they grew white andshining, like fine, glistening silver gauze. They spread over the vaultof heaven above us, and right away towards the north. They certainlyresembled aurora borealis; but perhaps they might be only light vaporshovering high up in the sky and catching the sunlight? I stood longlooking at them. They were singularly still, but they were northernlights, changing gradually in the southwest into dark cloud-streamers, and ending in the dust-cloud over the sun. Hansen saw them too, later, when it was dark. There was no doubt of their nature. His impressionwas that the aurora borealis spread from the sun over the whole vaultof heaven like the stripes on the inner skin of an orange. 

"Sunday, November 5th. A great race on the ice was advertised forto-day. The course was measured, marked off, and decorated withflags. The cook had prepared the prizes--cakes, numbered, and properlygraduated in size. The expectation was great; but it turned out that, from excessive training during the few last days, the whole crewwere so stiff in the legs that they were not able to move. We gotour prizes all the same. One man was blindfolded, and he decided whowas to have each cake as it was pointed at. This just arrangement metwith general approbation, and we all thought it a pleasanter way ofgetting the prizes than running half a mile for them. 

"So it is Sunday once more. How the days drag past! I work, read, think, and dream; strum a little on the organ; go for a walk on theice in the dark. Low on the horizon in the southwest there is theflush of the sun--a dark fierce red, as if of blood aglow with alllife's smouldering longings--low and far-off, like the dreamland ofyouth. Higher in the sky it melts into orange, and that into greenand pale blue; and then comes deep blue, star-sown, and then infinitespace, where no dawn will ever break. In the north are quiveringarches of faint aurora, trembling now like awakening longings, butpresently, as if at the touch of a magic wand, to storm as streams oflight through the dark blue of heaven--never at peace, restless as thevery soul of man. I can sit and gaze and gaze, my eyes entranced bythe dream-glow yonder in the west, where the moon's thin, pale, silversickle is dipping its point into the blood; and my soul is borne beyondthe glow, to the sun, so far off now--and to the home-coming! Ourtask accomplished, we are making our way up the fjord as fast assail and steam can carry us. On both sides of us the homeland liessmiling in the sun; and then . . . The sufferings of a thousand daysand hours melt into a moment's inexpressible joy. Ugh! that was abitter gust--I jump up and walk on. What am I dreaming about! so faryet from the goal--hundreds and hundreds of miles between us, ice andland and ice again. And we are drifting round and round in a ring, bewildered, attaining nothing, only waiting, always waiting, for what?

 "'I dreamt I lay on a grassy bank, And the sun shone warm and clear; I wakened on a desert isle, And the sky was black and drear. '

"One more look at the star of home, the one that stood that eveningover Cape Chelyuskin, and I creep on board, where the windmill isturning in the cold wind, and the electric light is streaming outfrom the skylight upon the icy desolation of the Arctic night. 

"Wednesday, November 8th. The storm (which we had had the twoprevious days) is quite gone down; not even enough breeze for themill. We tried letting the dogs sleep on the ice last night, insteadof bringing them on board in the evening, as we have been doinglately. The result was that another dog was torn to pieces during thenight. It was 'Ulabrand, ' the old brown, toothless fellow, that wentthis time. 'Job' and 'Moses' had gone the same way before. Yesterdayevening's observations place us in 77° 43' north latitude and 138° 8'east longitude. This is farther south than we have been yet. No helpfor it; but it is a sorry state of matters; and that we are farthereast than ever before is only a poor consolation. It is new moon again, and we may therefore expect pressure; the ice is, in fact, alreadymoving; it began to split on Saturday, and has broken up more eachday. The channels have been of a good size, and the movement becomesmore and more perceptible. Yesterday there was slight pressure, andwe noticed it again this morning about 5 o'clock. To-day the ice bythe ship has opened, and we are almost afloat. 

"Here I sit in the still winter night on the drifting ice-floe, and see only stars above me. Far off I see the threads of lifetwisting themselves into the intricate web which stretches unbrokenfrom life's sweet morning dawn to the eternal death-stillness of theice. Thought follows thought--you pick the whole to pieces, and itseems so small--but high above all towers one form. . . . Why did youtake this voyage?. . . Could I do otherwise? Can the river arrest itscourse and run up hill? My plan has come to nothing. That palace oftheory which I reared, in pride and self-confidence, high above allsilly objections has fallen like a house of cards at the first breathof wind. Build up the most ingenious theories and you may be sureof one thing--that fact will defy them all. Was I so very sure? Yes, at times; but that was self-deception, intoxication. A secret doubtlurked behind all the reasoning. It seemed as though the longer Idefended my theory, the nearer I came to doubting it. But no, thereis no getting over the evidence of that Siberian drift-wood. 

"But if, after all, we are on the wrong track, what then? Onlydisappointed human hopes, nothing more. And even if we perish, whatwill it matter in the endless cycles of eternity?

"Thursday, November 9th. I took temperatures and sea-water samplesto-day every 10 yards from the surface to the bottom, The depth was 91/2 fathoms. An extraordinarily even temperature of 30° Fahr. (-1. 5C. ) through all the layers. I have noticed the same thing before asfar south as this. So it is only polar water here? There is not muchpressure; an inclination to it this morning, and a little at 8 o'clockthis evening; also a few squeezes later, when we were playing cards. 

"Friday, November 10th. This morning made despairing examinations ofyesterday's water samples with Thornöe's electric apparatus. Theremust be absolute stillness on board when this is going on. The men areall terrified, slip about on tiptoe, and talk in the lowest possiblewhispers. But presently one begins to hammer at something on deck, andanother to file in the engine-room, when the chief's commanding voiceis at once heard ordering silence. These examinations are made by meansof a telephone, through which a very faint noise is heard, which diesslowly away; the moment at which it stops must be exactly ascertained. 

"I find remarkably little salt all the way to the bottom in the waterhere; it must be mixed with fresh water from the Siberian river. 

"There was some pressure this morning, going on till nearly noon, and we heard the noise of it in several directions. In the afternoonthe ice was quite slack, with a large opening alongside the portside of the ship. At half-past seven pretty strong pressure began, the ice crashing and grinding along the ship's side. About midnightthe roar of packing was heard to the south. 

"Saturday, November 11th. There has been some pressure in the courseof the day. The newly formed ice is about 15 inches thick. It is hardon the top, but looser and porous below. This particular piece of icebegan to form upon a large opening in the night between the 27th and28th October, so it has frozen 15 inches in 15 days. I observed thatit froze 3 inches the first night, and 5 inches altogether duringthe three first nights; so that it has taken 12 days to the last10 inches. "

Even this small observation serves to show that the formation of icegoes on most easily where the crust is thin, becoming more and moredifficult as the thickness increases, until at a certain thickness, as we observed later, it stops altogether. "It is curious that thepressure has gone on almost all day--no slackening such as we haveusually observed. "

"Sunday, November 19th. Our life has gone on its usual monotonousroutine since the 11th. The wind has been steadily from the south allweek, but to-day there is a little from N. N. W. We have had pressureseveral times, and have heard sounds of it in the southeast. Exceptfor this, the ice has been unusually quiet, and it is closed in tightlyround the ship. Since the last strong pressure we have probably 10 to20 feet of ice packed in below us. [36] Hansen to-day worked out anobservation taken the day before yesterday, and surprised us with thewelcome intelligence that we have travelled 44' north and a littleeast since the 8th. We are now in 78° 27' north latitude, 139° 23'east longitude. This is farther east than we have been yet. For anysake, let us only keep on as we are going!

"The Fram is a warm, cozy abode. Whether the thermometer stands at22° above zero or at 22° below it we have no fire in the stove. Theventilation is excellent, especially since we rigged up the air sail, which sends a whole winter's cold in through the ventilator; yetin spite of this we sit here warm and comfortable, with only a lampburning. I am thinking of having the stove removed altogether; it isonly in the way. At least, as far as our protection from the wintercold is concerned, my calculations have turned out well. Neither dowe suffer much from damp. It does collect and drop a little from theroof in one or two places, especially astern in the four-man cabins, but nothing in comparison with what is common in other ships; andif we lighted the stove it would disappear altogether. When I haveburned a lamp for quite a short time in my cabin every trace ofdamp is gone. [37] These are extraordinary fellows for standing thecold. With the thermometer at 22° below zero Bentzen goes up in hisshirt and trousers to read the thermometer on deck. 

"Monday, November 27th. The prevailing wind has been southerly, withsometimes a little east. The temperature still keeps between 13°and 22° below zero; in the hold it has fallen to 12°. "

It has several times struck me that the streamers of the auroraborealis followed in the direction of the wind, from the wind's eye onthe horizon. On Thursday morning, when we had very slight northeasterlywind, I even ventured to prophesy, from the direction of the streamers, that it would go round to the southeast, which it accordingly did. Onthe whole there has been much less of the aurora borealis latelythan at the beginning of our drift. Still, though it may have beenfaint, there has been a little every day. To-night it is very strongagain. These last days the moon has sometimes had rings round it, withmock-moons and axes, accompanied by rather strange phenomena. When themoon stands so low that the ring touches the horizon, a bright fieldof light is formed where the horizon cuts the ring. Similar expansesof light are also formed where the perpendicular axis from the moonintersects the horizon. Faint rainbows are often to be seen in theseshining light-fields; yellow was generally the strongest tint nearestthe horizon, passing over into red, and then into blue. Similar colorscould also be distinguished in the mock-moons. Sometimes there aretwo large rings, the one outside the other, and then there may be fourmock-moons. I have also seen part of a new ring above the usual one, meeting it at a tangent directly above the moon. As is well known, these various ring formations round the sun, as well as round themoon, are produced by the refraction of rays of light by minute icecrystals floating in the air. 

"We looked for pressure with full moon and springtide on 23d ofNovember; but then, and for several days afterwards, the ice wasquite quiet. On the afternoon of Saturday, the 25th, however, itsdistant roar was heard from the south, and we have heard it fromthe same direction every day since. This morning it was very loud, and came gradually nearer. At 9 o'clock it was quite close to us, and this evening we hear it near us again. It seems, however, as ifwe had now got out of the groove to which the pressure principallyconfines itself. We were regularly in it before. The ice round usis perfectly quiet. The probability is that the last severe pressurepacked it very tight about us, and that the cold since has frozen itinto such a thick, strong mass that it offers great resistance, whilethe weaker ice in other places yields to the pressure. The depth of thesea is increasing steadily, and we are drifting north. This eveningHansen has worked out the observations of the day before yesterday, and finds that we are in 79° 11' north latitude. That is good, and theway we ought to get on. It is the most northern point we have reachedyet, and to-day we are in all likelihood still farther north. Wehave made good way these last days, and the increasing depth seemsto indicate a happy change in the direction of our drift. Have we, perhaps, really found the right road at last? We are drifting about 5'a day. The most satisfactory thing is that there has not been muchwind lately, especially not the last two days; yesterday it was only1 metre per second; to-day is perfectly still, and yet the depth hasincreased 21 fathoms (40 m. ) in these two days. It seems as if therewere a northerly current, after all. No doubt many disappointmentsawait us yet; but why not rejoice while fortune smiles?

"Tuesday, November 28th. The disappointment lost no time incoming. There had been a mistake either in the observation or inHansen's calculations. An altitude of Jupiter taken yesterday eveningshows us to be in 76° 36' north latitude. The soundings to-day showed74 fathoms (142 m. ) of water, or about the same as yesterday, and thesounding-line indicated a southwesterly drift. However anxious oneis to take things philosophically, one can't help feeling a littledepressed. I try to find solace in a book; absorb myself in thelearning of the Indians--their happy faith in transcendental powers, in the supernatural faculties of the soul, and in a future life. Oh, if one could only get hold of a little supernatural power now, andoblige the winds always to blow from the south!

"I went on deck this evening in rather a gloomy frame of mind, but was nailed to the spot the moment I got outside. There is thesupernatural for you--the northern lights flashing in matchless powerand beauty over the sky in all the colors of the rainbow! Seldomor never have I seen the colors so brilliant. The prevailing one atfirst was yellow, but that gradually flickered over into green, andthen a sparkling ruby-red began to show at the bottom of the rays onthe under side of the arch, soon spreading over the whole arch. Andnow from the far-away western horizon a fiery serpent writhed itselfup over the sky, shining brighter and brighter as it came. It splitinto three, all brilliantly glittering. Then the colors changed. Theserpent to the south turned almost ruby-red, with spots of yellow;the one in the middle, yellow; and the one to the north, greenishwhite. Sheaves of rays swept along the side of the serpents, driventhrough the ether-like waves before a storm-wind. They sway backwardand forward, now strong, now fainter again. The serpents reached andpassed the zenith. Though I was thinly dressed and shivering withcold, I could not tear myself away till the spectacle was over, andonly a faintly glowing fiery serpent near the western horizon showedwhere it had begun. When I came on deck later the masses of light hadpassed northward and spread themselves in incomplete arches over thenorthern sky. If one wants to read mystic meanings into the phenomenaof nature, here, surely, is the opportunity. 

"The observation this afternoon showed us to be in 78° 38' 42''north latitude. This is anything but rapid progress. 

"Wednesday, November 29th. Another dog has been bitten to deathto-day--'Fox, ' a handsome, powerful animal. He was found lying deadand stiff on the ice at our stern this evening when they went tobring the dogs in, 'Suggen' performing her usual duty of watching thebody. They are wretches, these dogs. But now I have given orders thatsome one must always watch them when they are out on the ice. 

"Thursday, November 30th. The lead showed a depth of exactly 83fathoms (170 m. ) to-day, and it seemed by the line as if we weredrifting northwest. We are almost certainly farther north now; hopesare rising, and life is looking brighter again. My spirits are like apendulum, if one could imagine such an instrument giving all sorts ofirregular swings backward and forward. It is no good trying to takethe thing philosophically; I cannot deny that the question whether weare to return successful or unsuccessful affects me very deeply. Itis quite easy to convince myself with the most incontrovertiblereasoning that what really matters is to carry through the expedition, whether successfully or not, and get safe home again. I could notbut undertake it; for my plan was one that I felt must succeed, andtherefore it was my duty to try it. Well, if it does not succeed, is that my affair? I have done my duty, done all that could be done, and can return home with an easy conscience to the quiet happiness Ihave left behind. What can it matter whether chance, or whatever nameyou like to give it, does or does not allow the plan to succeed andmake our names immortal? The worth of the plan is the same whetherchance smiles or frowns upon it. And as to immortality, happiness isall we want, and that is not to be had here. 

"I can say all this to myself a thousand times; I can bring myself tobelieve honestly that it is all a matter of indifference to me; butnone the less my spirits change like the clouds of heaven accordingas the wind blows from this direction or from that, or the soundingsshow the depth to be increasing or not, or the observations indicate anortherly or southerly drift. When I think of the many that trust us, think of Norway, think of all the friends that gave us their time, their faith, and their money, the wish comes that they may not bedisappointed, and I grow sombre when our progress is not what weexpected it would be. And she that gave most--does she deserve thather sacrifice should have been made in vain? Ah, yes, we must andwill succeed!

"Sunday, December 3d. Sunday again, with its feeling of peace, and its permission to indulge in the narcotic of happy day-dreams, and let the hours go idly by without any prickings of conscience. 

"To-day the bottom was not reached with over 133 fathoms (250 m. ) ofline. There was a northeasterly drift. Yesterday's observation showedus to be in 78° 44' north latitude, that is 5' farther north than onTuesday. It is horribly slow; but it is forward, and forward we mustgo; there can be no question of that. 

"Tuesday, December 5th. This is the coldest day we have had yet, withthe thermometer 31° below zero (-35. 7° C. ) and a biting wind from theE. S. E. Observation in the afternoon shows 78° 50' north latitude; thatis 6' farther north than on Saturday, or 2' per day. In the afternoonwe had magnificent aurora borealis--glittering arches across the wholevault of the sky from the east towards west; but when I was on deckthis evening the sky was overcast: only one star shone through thecloudy veil--the home star. How I love it! It is the first thing myeye seeks, and it is always there, shining on our path. I feel as ifno ill could befall us as long as I see it there. . . . 

"Wednesday, December 6th. This afternoon the ice cracked abaft thestarboard quarter; this evening I see that the crack has opened. Wemay expect pressure now, as it is new moon either to-day or to-morrow. "

"Thursday, December 7th. The ice pressed at the stern at 5 o'clockthis morning for about an hour. I lay in my berth and listened to itcreaking and grinding and roaring. There was slight pressure againin the afternoon; nothing to speak of. No slackening in the forenoon. 

"Friday, December 8th. Pressure from seven till eight this morning. AsI was sitting drawing in the afternoon I was startled by a suddenreport or crash. It seemed to be straight overhead, as if great massesof ice had fallen from the rigging on to the deck above my cabin. Everyone starts up and throws on some extra garment; those that are takingan afternoon nap jump out of their berths right into the middle of thesaloon, calling out to know what has happened. Pettersen rushes up thecompanion-ladder in such wild haste that he bursts open the door in theface of the mate, who is standing in the passage holding back 'Kvik, 'who has also started in fright from the bed in the chart-room, whereshe is expecting her confinement. On deck we could discover nothing, except that the ice was in motion, and seemed to be sinking slowlyaway from the ship. Great piles had been packed up under the sternthis morning and yesterday. The explosion was probably caused by aviolent pressure suddenly loosening all the ice along the ship's side, the ship at the same time taking a strong list to port. There wasno cracking of wood to be heard, so that, whatever it was, the Framcannot have been injured. But it was cold, and we crept down again. 

"As we were sitting at supper about 6 o'clock, pressure suddenlybegan. The ice creaked and roared so along the ship's sides close byus that it was not possible to carry on any connected conversation;we had to scream, and all agreed with Nordahl when he remarkedthat it would be much pleasanter if the pressure would confine itsoperations to the bow instead of coming bothering us here aft. Amidstthe noise we caught every now and again from the organ a note ortwo of Kjerulf's melody--'I could not sleep for the nightingale'svoice. ' The hurly-burly outside lasted for about twenty minutes, and then all was still. 

"Later in the evening Hansen came down to give notice of what reallywas a remarkable appearance of aurora borealis. The deck was brightlyilluminated by it, and reflections of its light played all over theice. The whole sky was ablaze with it, but it was brightest in thesouth; high up in that direction glowed waving masses of fire. Laterstill Hansen came again to say that now it was quite extraordinary. Nowords can depict the glory that met our eyes. The glowing fire-masseshad divided into glistening, many-colored bands, which were writhingand twisting across the sky both in the south and north. The rayssparkled with the purest, most crystalline rainbow colors, chieflyviolet-red or carmine and the clearest green. Most frequently the raysof the arch were red at the ends, and changed higher up into sparklinggreen, which quite at the top turned darker and went over into blue orviolet before disappearing in the blue of the sky; or the rays in oneand the same arch might change from clear red to clear green, comingand going as if driven by a storm. It was an endless phantasmagoriaof sparkling color, surpassing anything that one can dream. Sometimesthe spectacle reached such a climax that one's breath was taken away;one felt that now something extraordinary must happen--at the veryleast the sky must fall. But as one stands in breathless expectation, down the whole thing trips, as if in a few quick, light scale-runs, into bare nothingness. There is something most undramatic about such adénouement, but it is all done with such confident assurance that onecannot take it amiss; one feels one's self in the presence of a masterwho has the complete command of his instrument. With a single stroke ofthe bow he descends lightly and elegantly from the height of passioninto quiet, every-day strains, only with a few more strokes to workhimself up into passion again. It seems as if he were trying to mock, to tease us. When we are on the point of going below, driven by 61degrees of frost (-34. 7 C. ), such magnificent tones again vibrate overthe strings that we stay until noses and ears are frozen. For a finale, there is a wild display of fireworks in every tint of flame--such aconflagration that one expects every minute to have it down on theice, because there is not room for it in the sky. But I can hold outno longer. Thinly dressed, without a proper cap and without gloves, I have no feeling left in body or limbs, and I crawl away below. 

"Sunday, December 10th. Another peaceful Sunday. The motto for theday in the English almanac is: 'He is happy whose circumstances suithis temper: but he is more excellent who can suit his temper to anycircumstances' (Hume). Very true, and exactly the philosophy I ampractising at this moment. I am lying on my berth in the light ofthe electric lamp, eating cake and drinking beer while I am writingmy journal; presently I shall take a book and settle down to readand sleep. The arc lamp has shone like a sun to-day over a happycompany. We have no difficulty now in distinguishing hearts fromdiamonds on our dirty cards. It is wonderful what an effect lighthas. I believe I am becoming a fire-worshipper. It is strange enoughthat fire-worship should not exist in the Arctic countries. 

 "'For the sons of men Fire is the best, And the sight of the sun. '

"A newspaper appears on board now. Framsjaa [38] (news of, or outlookfrom, the Fram) is its name, and our doctor is its irresponsibleeditor. The first number was read aloud this evening, and gave occasionfor much merriment. Among its contents are:

 '"WINTER IN THE ICE

 (Contribution to the Infant Framsjaa)

 Far in the ice there lies a ship, boys, Mast and sail ice to the very tip, boys; But, perfectly clear, If you listen you can hear, There is life and fun on board that ship, boys. What can it be? Come along and see-- It is Nansen and his men that laugh, boys. 

 Nothing to be heard at night but glasses' clink, boys, Fall of greasy cards and counters' chink, boys; If he won't "declare, " Nordahl he will swear Bentzen is stupid as an owl, boys. Bentzen cool, boys, Is not a fool, boys; "You're another!" quickly he replies, boys. 

 Among those sitting at the table, boys, Is "Heika, " [39] with his body big and stable, boys; He and Lars, so keen, It would almost seem They would stake their lives if they were able, boys. Amundsen, again, Looks at these two men, Shakes his head and sadly goes to bed, boys. [40] Sverdrup, Blessing, Hansen, and our Mohn, [41] boys, Say of "marriage, " "This game is our own, " boys; Soon for them, alas! The happy hour is past; And Hansen he says, "Come away, old Mohn!" boys. "It is getting late, And the stars won't wait, You and I must up and out alone, " boys. 

 The doctor here on board has nought to do, boys; Not a man to test his skill among the crew, boys; Well may he look blue, There's nought for him to do, When every man is strong and hearty, too, boys. "Now on the Fram, " boys, He says "I am, " boys, "Chief editor of newspaper for you!" boys. 

 "'WARNING!!!

 "'I think it is my duty to warn the public that a travelling watchmaker has been making the round of this neighborhood lately, getting watches to repair, and not returning them to their owners. How long is this to be allowed to go on under the eyes of the authorities?

 "'The watchmaker's appearance is as follows: Middle height, fair, gray eyes, brown full beard, round shoulders, and generally delicate-looking. 

 "'A. Juell. [42]

 "'The person above notified was in our office yesterday, asking for work, and we consider it right to add the following particulars as completing the description. He generally goes about with a pack of mongrel curs at his heels; he chews tobacco, and of this his beard shows traces. This is all we have to say, as we did not consider ourselves either entitled or called upon to put him under the microscope. 

 "'Ed. Framsjaa. '

"Yesterday's observation placed us in 79° 0' north latitude, 139° 14'east longitude. At last, then, we have got as far north again as wewere in the end of September, and now the northerly drift seems tobe steady: 10 minutes in 4 days. 

"Monday, December 11th. This morning I took a long excursion towestward. It is hard work struggling over the packed ice in thedark, something like scrambling about a moraine of big boulders atnight. Once I took a step in the air, fell forward, and bruised myright knee. It is mild to-day, only 9 1/2° below zero (-23° C. ). Thisevening there was a strange appearance of aurora borealis--white, shining clouds, which I thought at first must be lit up by the moon, but there is no moon yet. They were light cumuli, or cirro-cumuli, shifting into a brightly shining mackerel sky. I stood and watched themas long as my thin clothing permitted, but there was no perceptiblepulsation, no play of flame; they sailed quietly on. The light seemedto be strongest in the southeast, where there were also dark clouds tobe seen. Hansen said that it moved over later into the northern sky;clouds came and went, and for a time there were many white shiningones--'white as lambs, ' he called them--but no aurora played behindthem. 

"In this day's meteorological journal I find noted for 4 P. M. : 'Faintaurora borealis in the north. Some distinct branchings or antlers(they are of ribbon crimped like blond) in some diffused patches on thehorizon in the N. N. E. ' In his aurora borealis journal Hansen describesthat of this evening as follows: 'About 8 P. M. An aurora borealis archof light was observed, stretching from E. S. E. To N. W. , through thezenith; diffused quiet intensity 3-4 most intense in N. W. The archspread at the zenith by a wave to the south. At 10 o'clock there wasa fainter aurora borealis in the southern sky; eight minutes later itextended to the zenith, and two minutes after this there was a shiningbroad arch across the zenith with intensity 6. Twelve seconds laterflaming rays shot from the zenith in an easterly direction. Duringthe next half-hour there was constant aurora, chiefly in bands acrossor near the zenith, or lower in the southern sky. The observationended about 10. 38. The intensity was then 2, the aurora diffusedover the southern sky. There were cumulus clouds of varying closenessall the time. They came up in the southeast at the beginning of theobservation, and disappeared towards the end of it; they were closestabout 10 minutes past 10. At the time that the broad shining archthrough the zenith was at its highest intensity the cumulus clouds inthe northwest shone quite white, though we were unable to detect anyaurora borealis phenomena in this quarter. The reflection of lighton the ice-field was pretty strong at the same time. In the auroraborealis the cumulus clouds appeared of a darker color, almost thegray of wool. The colors of the aurora were yellowish, bluish white, milky blue--cold coloring. ' According to the meteorological journalthere was still aurora borealis in the southern sky at midnight. 

"Tuesday, December 12th. Had a long walk southeast this morning. Theice is in much the same condition there as it is to the west, packedor pressed up into mounds, with flat floes between. This eveningthe dogs suddenly began to make a great commotion on deck. We wereall deep in cards, some playing whist, others 'marriage. ' I had noshoes on, so said that some one else must go up and see what was thematter. Mogstad went. The noise grew worse and worse. Presently Mogstadcame down and said that all the dogs that could get at the rail wereup on it, barking out into the dark towards the north. He was surethere must be an animal of some sort there, but perhaps it was only afox, for he thought he had heard the bark of a fox far in the north;but he was not sure. Well, --it must be a devil of a fox to excitethe dogs like that. As the disturbance continued, I at last wentup myself, followed by Johansen. From different positions we lookedlong and hard into the darkness in the direction in which the dogswere barking, but we could see nothing moving. That something mustbe there was quite certain; and I had no doubt that it was a bear, for the dogs were almost beside themselves. 'Pan' looked up into myface with an odd expression, as if he had something important to tellme, and then jumped up on the rail and barked away to the north. Thedogs' excitement was quite remarkable; they had not been so keen whenthe bear was close in to the side of the ship. However, I contentedmyself with remarking that the thing to do would be to loose somedogs and go north with them over the ice. But these wretched dogswon't tackle a bear, and besides it is so dark that there is hardlya chance of finding anything. If it is a bear he will come again. Atthis season, when he is so hungry, he will hardly go right away fromall the good food for him here on board. I struck about with my armsto get a little heat into me, then went below and to bed. The dogs wenton barking, sometimes louder than before. Nordahl, whose watch it was, went up several times, but could discover no reason for it. As I waslying reading in my berth I heard a peculiar sound; it was like boxesbeing dragged about on deck, and there was also scraping, like a dogthat wanted to get out, scratching violently at a door. I thought of'Kvik, ' who was shut up in the chart-room. I called into the saloonto Nordahl that he had better go up again and see what this new noisewas. He did so, but came back saying that there was still nothing to beseen. It was difficult to sleep, and I lay long tossing about. Petercame on watch. I told him to go up and turn the air-sail to the wind, to make the ventilation better. He was a good time on deck doing thisand other things, but he also could see no reason for the to-do thedogs were still making. He had to go forward, and then noticed thatthe three dogs nearest the starboard gangway were missing. He camedown and told me, and we agreed that possibly this might be what allthe excitement was about; but never before had they taken it so toheart when some of their number had run away. At last I fell asleep, but heard them in my sleep for a long time. 

"Wednesday, December 13th. Before I was rightly awake this morning Iheard the dogs 'at it' still, and the noise went on all the time ofbreakfast, and had, I believe, gone on all night. After breakfastMogstad and Peter went up to feed the wretched creatures and letthem loose on the ice. Three were still missing. Peter came down toget a lantern; he thought he might as well look if there were anytracks of animals. Jacobsen called after him that he had bettertake a gun. No, he did not need one, he said. A little later, asI was sitting sorrowfully absorbed in the calculation of how muchpetroleum we had used, and how short a time our supply would last ifwe went on burning it at the same rate, I heard a scream at the topof the companion. 'Come with a gun!' In a moment I was in the saloon, and there was Peter tumbling in at the door, breathlessly shouting, 'A gun! a gun!' The bear had bitten him in the side. I was thankfulthat it was no worse. Hearing him put on so much dialect, [43]I had thought it was a matter of life and death. I seized one gun, he another, and up we rushed, the mate with his gun after us. Therewas not much difficulty in knowing in what direction to turn, for fromthe rail on the starboard side came confused shouts of human voices, and from the ice below the gangway the sound of a frightful uproarof dogs. I tore out the tow-plug at the muzzle of my rifle, then upwith the lever and in with a cartridge; it was a case of hurry. But, hang it! there is a plug in at this end too. I poked and poked, but could not get a grip of it. Peter screamed: 'Shoot, shoot! Minewon't go off!' He stood clicking and clicking, his lock full of frozenvaseline again, while the bear lay chewing at a dog just below us atthe ship's side. Beside me stood the mate, groping after a tow-plugwhich he also had shoved down into his gun, but now he flung the gunangrily away and began to look round the deck for a walrus spear tostick the bear with. Our fourth man, Mogstad, was waving an emptyrifle (he had shot away his cartridges), and shouting to some oneto shoot the bear. Four men, and not one that could shoot, althoughwe could have prodded the bear's back with our gun-barrels. Hansen, making a fifth, was lying in the passage to the chart-room, gropingwith his arm through a chink in the door for cartridges; he couldnot get the door open because of 'Kvik's' kennel. At last Johansenappeared and sent a ball straight down into the bear's hide. Thatdid some good. The monster let go the dog and gave a growl. Anothershot flashed and hissed down on the same spot. One more, and we sawthe white dog the bear had under him jump up and run off, while theother dogs stood round, barking. Another shot still, for the animalbegan to stir a little. At this moment my plug came out, and I gavehim a last ball through the head to make sure. The dogs had crowdedround barking as long as he moved, but now that he lay still in deaththey drew back terrified. They probably thought it was some new ruseof the enemy. It was a little thin one-year-old bear that had causedall this terrible commotion. 

"While it was being flayed I went off in a northwesterly directionto look for the dogs that were still missing. I had not gone farwhen I noticed that the dogs that were following me had caught scentof something to the north and wanted to go that way. Soon they gotfrightened, and I could not get them to go on; they kept close in tomy side or slunk behind me. I held my gun ready, while I crawled onall-fours over the pack-ice, which was anything but level. I kepta steady lookout ahead, but it was not far my eyes could pierce inthat darkness. I could only just see the dogs, like black shadows, when they were a few steps away from me. I expected every momentto see a huge form rise among the hummocks ahead, or come rushingtowards me. The dogs got more and more cautious; one or two of themsat down, but they probably felt that it would be a shame to let mego on alone, so followed slowly after. Terrible ice to force one'sway over. Crawling along on hands and knees does not put one in avery convenient position to shoot from if the bear should make asudden rush. But unless he did this, or attacked the dogs, I had nohope of getting him. We now came out on some flat ice. It was onlytoo evident that there must be something quite near now. I went on, and presently saw a dark object on the ice in front of me. It was notunlike an animal. I bent down--it was poor 'Johansen's Friend, ' theblack dog with the white tip to his tail, in a sad state, and frozenstiff. Beside him was something else dark. I bent down again andfound the second of the missing dogs, brother of the corpse-watcher'Suggen. ' This one was almost whole, only eaten a little about thehead, and it was not frozen quite stiff. There seemed to be blood allround on the ice. I looked about in every direction, but there wasnothing more to be seen. The dogs stood at a respectful distance, staring and sniffing in the direction of their dead comrades. Someof us went, not long after this, to fetch the dogs' carcasses, taking a lantern to look for bear tracks, in case there had beensome big fellows along with the little one. We scrambled on amongthe pack-ice. 'Come this way with the lantern, Bentzen; I thinkI see tracks here. ' Bentzen came, and we turned the light on someindentations in the snow; they were bear-paw marks, sure enough, butonly the same little fellow's. 'Look! the brute has been dragginga dog after him here. ' By the light of the lantern we traced theblood-marked path on among the hummocks. We found the dead dogs, butno footprints except small ones, which we all thought must be those ofour little bear. 'Svarten, ' alias 'Johansen's Friend, ' looked bad inthe lantern-light. Flesh and skin and entrails were gone; there wasnothing to be seen but a bare breast and back-bone, with some stumpsof ribs. It was a pity that the fine strong dog should come to suchan end. He had just one fault: he was rather bad-tempered. He hada special dislike to Johansen; barked and showed his teeth wheneverhe came on deck or even opened a door, and when he sat whistling inthe top or in the crow's-nest these dark winter days the 'Friend'would answer with a howl of rage from far out on the ice. Johansenbent down with the lantern to look at the remains. 

"'Are you glad, Johansen, that your enemy is done for?'

"'No, I am sorry. '

"'Why?'

"'Because we did not make it up before he died. '

"And we went on to look for more bear-tracks, but found none; so wetook the dead dogs on our backs and turned homeward. 

"On the way I asked Peter what had really happened with him and thebear. 'Well, you see, ' said he, 'when I came along with the lanternwe saw a few drops of blood by the gangway; but that might quite wellhave been a dog that had cut itself. On the ice below the gangwaywe saw some bear-tracks, and we started away west, the whole pack ofdogs with us, running on far ahead. When we had got away a bit fromthe ship, there was suddenly an awful row in front, and it wasn't longbefore a great beast came rushing at us, with the whole troop of dogsaround it. As soon as we saw what it was, we turned and ran our bestfor the ship. Mogstad, you see, had moccasins (komager) on, and knewhis way better and got there before me. I couldn't get along so fastwith my great wooden shoes, and in my confusion I got right on to thebig hummock to the west of the ship's bow, you know. I turned here andlighted back to see if the bear was behind me, but I saw nothing andpushed on again, and in a minute these slippery wooden shoes had meflat on my back among the hummocks. I was up again quick enough; butwhen I got down on to the flat ice close to the ship I saw somethingcoming straight for me on the right-hand side. First I thought itwas a dog--it's not so easy to see in the dark, you know. I had notime for a second thought, for the beast jumped on me and bit me inthe side. I had lifted my arm like this, you see, and so he caughtme here, right on the hip. He growled and hissed as he bit. '

"'What did you think then, Peter?'

"'What did I think? I thought it was all up with me. What was I todo? I had neither gun nor knife. But I took the lantern and gavehim such a whack on the head with it that the thing broke, and wentflying away over the ice. The moment he felt the blow he sat down andlooked at me. I was just taking to my heels when he got up; I don'tknow whether it was to grip me again or what it was for, but anyhowat that minute he caught sight of a dog coming and set off after it, and I got on board. '

"'Did you scream, Peter?'

"'Scream! I screamed with all my might. '

"And apparently this was true, for he was quite hoarse. 

"'But where was Mogstad all this time?'

"'Well, you see, he had reached the ship long before me, but henever thought of running down and giving the alarm, but takes his gunfrom the round-house wall and thinks he'll manage all right alone;but his gun wouldn't go off, and the bear would have had time to eatme up before his nose. '

"We were now near the ship, and Mogstad, who had heard the lastpart of the story from the deck, corrected it in so far that he hadjust reached the gangway when Peter began to roar. He jumped up andfell back three times before he got on board, and had no time to doanything then but seize his gun and go to Peter's assistance. 

"When the bear left Peter and rushed after the dogs he soon had thewhole pack about him again. Now he would make a spring and get onebelow him; but then all the rest would set upon him and jump on hisback, so that he had to turn to defend himself. Then he would springupon another dog, and the whole pack would be on him again. And sothe dance went on, backward and forward over the ice, until they wereonce more close to the ship. A dog stood there, below the gangway, wanting to get on board; the bear made a spring on it, and it wasthere, by the ship's side, that the villain met his fate. 

"An examination on board showed that the hook of 'Svarten's' leashwas pulled out quite straight; 'Gammelen's' was broken through; butthe third dog's was only wrenched a little; it hardly looked as ifthe bear had done it. I had a slight hope that this dog might stillbe in life, but, though we searched well, we could not find it. 

"It was altogether a deplorable story. To think that we should have leta bear scramble on board like this, and should have lost three dogs atonce! Our dogs are dwindling down; we have only 26 now. That was a wilydemon of a bear, to be such a little one. He had crawled on board bythe gangway, shoved away a box that was standing in front of it, takenthe dog that stood nearest, and gone off with it. When he had satisfiedthe first pangs of his hunger, he had come back and fetched No. 2, and, if he had been allowed, he would have continued the performanceuntil the deck was cleared of dogs. Then he would probably have comebumping down-stairs 'and beckoned with cold hand' in at the galleydoor to Juell. It must have been a pleasant feeling for 'Svarten'to stand there in the dark and see the bear come creeping in upon him. 

"When I went below after this bear affair, Juell said as I passed thegalley door, 'You'll see that "Kvik" will have her pups to-day; forit's always the way here on board, that things happen together. ' And, sure enough, when we were sitting in the saloon in the evening, Mogstad, who generally plays 'master of the hounds, ' came andannounced the arrival of the first. Soon there was another, and thenone more. This news was a little balsam to our wounds. 'Kvik' has gota good warm box, lined with fur, up in the passage on the starboard;it is so warm there that she is lying sweating, and we hope that theyoung ones will live, in spite of 54 degrees of frost. It seems thisevening as if every one had some hesitation in going out on the iceunarmed. Our bayonet-knives have been brought out, and I am providingmyself with one. I must say that I felt quite certain that we shouldfind no bears as far north as this in the middle of winter; and itnever occurred to me, in making long excursions on the ice withoutso much as a penknife in my pocket, that I was liable to encounterswith them. But, after Peter's experience, it seems as if it might beas well to have, at any rate, a lantern to hit them with. The longbayonet-knife shall accompany me henceforth. 

"They often chaffed Peter afterwards about having screamed so horriblywhen the bear seized him. 'H'm! I wonder, ' said he, 'if there aren'tothers that would have screeched just as loud. I had to yell afterthe fellows that were so afraid of frightening the bear that whenthey ran they covered seven yards at each stride. '

"Thursday, December 14th. 'Well, Mogstad, how many pups have younow?' I asked at breakfast. 'There are five now. ' But soon after hecame down to tell me that there were at least twelve. Gracious! thatis good value for what we have lost. But we were almost as pleasedwhen Johansen came down and said that he heard the missing doghowling on the ice far away to the northwest. Several of us went upto listen, and we could all hear him quite well; but it sounded asif he were sitting still, howling in despair. Perhaps he was at anopening in the ice that he could not get across. Blessing had alsoheard him during his night-watch, but then the sound had come morefrom a southwesterly direction. When Peter went after breakfast tofeed the dogs, there was the lost one, standing below the gangwaywanting to get on board. Hungry he was--he dashed straight into thefood-dish--but otherwise hale and hearty. 

"This evening Peter came and said that he was certain he had hearda bear moving about and pawing the ice; he and Pettersen had stoodand listened to him scraping at the snow crust. I put on my 'pesk'(a fur blouse), got hold of my double-barrelled rifle, and went ondeck. The whole crew were collected aft, gazing out into the night. Welet loose 'Ulenka' and 'Pan, ' and went in the direction where the bearwas said to be. It was pitch-dark, but the dogs would find the tracksif there was anything there. Hansen thought he had seen somethingmoving about the hummock near the ship, but we found and heard nothing, and, as several of the others had by this time come out on the iceand could also discover nothing, we scrambled on board again. It isextraordinary all the sounds that one can fancy one hears out on thatgreat, still space, mysteriously lighted by the twinkling stars. 

"Friday, December 15th. This morning Peter saw a fox on the ice astern, and he saw it again later, when he was out with the dogs. There issomething remarkable about this appearance of bears and foxes now, after our seeing no life for so long. The last time we saw a fox wewere far south of this, possibly near Sannikoff Land. Can we havecome into the neighborhood of land again?

"I inspected 'Kvik's' pups in the afternoon. There were thirteen, a curious coincidence--thirteen pups on December 13th, for thirteenmen. Five were killed; 'Kvik' can manage eight, but more wouldbe bad for her. Poor mother! she was very anxious about her youngones--wanted to jump up into the box beside them and take them fromus. And you can see that she is very proud of them. 

"Peter came this evening and said that there must be a ghost on theice, for he heard exactly the same sounds of walking and pawing asyesterday evening. This seems to be a populous region, after all. 

"According to an observation taken on Tuesday we must be pretty nearlyin 79° 8' north latitude. That was 8 minutes' drift in the three daysfrom Saturday; we are getting on better and better. 

"Why will it not snow? Christmas is near, and what is Christmas withoutsnow, thickly falling snow? We have not had one snowfall all the timewe have been drifting. The hard grains that come down now and again arenothing. Oh the beautiful white snow, falling so gently and silently, softening every hard outline with its sheltering purity! There isnothing more deliciously restful, soft, and white. This snowlessice-plain is like a life without love--nothing to soften it. Themarks of all the battles and pressures of the ice stand forth justas when they were made, rugged and difficult to move among. Love islife's snow. It falls deepest and softest into the gashes left bythe fight--whiter and purer than snow itself. What is life withoutlove? It is like this ice--a cold, bare, rugged mass, the wind drivingit and rending it and then forcing it together again, nothing to coverover the open rifts, nothing to break the violence of the collisions, nothing to round away the sharp corners of the broken floes--nothing, nothing but bare, rugged drift-ice. 

"Saturday, December 16th. In the afternoon Peter came quietly into thesaloon, and said that he heard all sorts of noises on the ice. Therewas a sound to the north exactly like that of ice packing againstland, and then suddenly there was such a roar through the air thatthe dogs started up and barked. Poor Peter! They laugh at him whenhe comes down to give an account of his many observations; but thereis not one among us as sharp as he is. 

"Wednesday, December 20th. As I was sitting at breakfast, Peter cameroaring that he believed he had seen a bear on the ice, 'and that"Pan" set off the moment he was loosed. ' I rushed on to the ice with mygun. Several men were to be seen in the moonlight, but no bear. It waslong before 'Pan' came back; he had followed him far to the northwest. 

"Sverdrup and 'Smith Lars' in partnership have made a great bear-trap, which was put out on the ice to-day. As I was afraid of more dogsthan bears being caught in it, it was hung from a gallows, too highfor the dogs to jump up to the piece of blubber which hangs as baitright in the mouth of the trap. All the dogs spend the evening nowsitting on the rail barking at this new man they see out there onthe ice in the moonlight. 

"Thursday, December 21st. It is extraordinary, after all, how the timepasses. Here we are at the shortest day, though we have no day. But nowwe are moving on to light and summer again. We tried to sound to-day;had out 2100 metres (over 1100 fathoms) of line without reachingthe bottom. We have no more line; what is to be done? Who could haveguessed that we should find such deep water? There has been an arch oflight in the sky all day, opposite the moon; so it is a lunar rainbow, but without color, so far as I have been able to see. 

"Friday, December 22d. A bear was shot last night. Jacobsen saw itfirst, during his watch. He shot at it. It made off; and he thenwent down and told about it in the cabin. Mogstad and Peter came ondeck; Sverdrup was called, too, and came up a little later. Theysaw the bear on his way towards the ship again; but he suddenlycaught sight of the gallows with the trap on the ice to the west, and went off there. He looked well at the apparatus, then raisedhimself cautiously on his hind-legs, and laid his right paw on thecross-beam just beside the trap, stared for a little, hesitating, at the delicious morsel, but did not at all like the ugly jaws roundit. Sverdrup was by this time out at the deck-house, watching inthe sparkling moonshine. His heart was jumping--he expected everymoment to hear the snap of his trap. But the bear shook his headsuspiciously, lowered himself cautiously on to all-fours again, and sniffed carefully at the wire that the trap was fastened by, following it along to where it was made fast to a great block ofice. He went round this, and saw how cleverly it was all arranged, then slowly followed the wire back, raised himself up as before, withhis paw on the beam of the gallows, had a long look at the trap, andshook his head again, probably saying to himself, 'These wily fellowshave planned this very cleverly for me. ' Now he resumed his marchto the ship. When he was within 60 paces of the bow Peter fired. Thebear fell, but jumped up and again made off. Jacobsen, Sverdrup, andMogstad all fired now, and he fell among some hummocks. He was flayedat once, and in the skin there was only the hole of one ball, whichhad gone through him from behind the shoulder-blade. Peter, Jacobsen, and Mogstad all claimed this ball. Sverdrup gave up his claim, ashe had stood so far astern. Mogstad, seeing the bear fall directlyafter his shot, called out, 'I gave him that one'; Jacobsen swearsthat it was he that hit; and Bentzen, who was standing looking on, is prepared to take his oath anywhere that it was Peter's ball thatdid the deed. The dispute upon this weighty point remained unsettledduring the whole course of the expedition. 

"Beautiful moonlight. Pressure in several directions. To-day we carriedour supply of gun-cotton and cannon and rifle powder on deck. It issafer there than in the hold. In case of fire or other accident, an explosion in the hold might blow the ship's sides out and sendus to the bottom before we had time to turn round. Some we put onthe forecastle, some on the bridge. From these places it would bequickly thrown on to the ice. 

"Saturday, December 23d. What we call in Norway 'LittleChristmas-eve. ' I went a long way west this morning, coming homelate. There was packed up ice everywhere, with flat floes between. Iwas turned by a newly formed opening in the ice, which I dared notcross on the thin layer of fresh ice. In the afternoon, as a firstChristmas entertainment, we tried an ice-blasting with four prismsof gun-cotton. A hole was made with one of the large iron drills wehad brought with us for this purpose, and the charge, with the endof the electric connecting wire, was sunk about a foot below thesurface of the ice. Then all retired, the knob was touched, therewas a dull crash, and water and pieces of ice were shot up into theair. Although it was 60 yards off, it gave the ship a good jerk thatshook everything on board, and brought the hoar-frost down from therigging. The explosion blew a hole through the four-feet-thick ice, but its only other effect was to make small cracks round this hole. 

"Sunday, December 24th (Christmas-eve), 67 degrees of cold (-37°C. ). Glittering moonlight and the endless stillness of the Arcticnight. I took a solitary stroll over the ice. The first Christmas-eve, and how far away! The observation shows us to be in 79° 11' northlatitude. There is no drift. Two minutes farther south than sixdays ago. "

There are no further particulars given of this day in the diary;but when I think of it, how clearly it all comes back to me! Therewas a peculiar elevation of mood on board that was not at all commonamong us. Every man's inmost thoughts were with those at home; buthis comrades were not to know that, and so there was more jokingand laughing than usual. All the lamps and lights we had on boardwere lit, and every corner of the saloon and cabins was brilliantlyilluminated. The bill of fare for the day, of course, surpassedany previous one--food was the chief thing we had to hold festivalwith. The dinner was a very fine one indeed; so was the supper, and after it piles of Christmas cakes came on the table; Juell hadbeen busy making them for several weeks. After that we enjoyed aglass of toddy and a cigar, smoking in the saloon being, of course, allowed. The culminating point of the festival came when two boxes withChristmas presents were produced. The one was from Hansen's mother, the other from his fiancée--Miss Fougner. It was touching to see thechildlike pleasure with which each man received his gift--it mightbe a pipe or a knife or some little knickknack--he felt that it waslike a message from home. After this there were speeches; and thenthe Framsjaa appeared, with an illustrated supplement, selectionsfrom which are given. The drawings are the work of the famous Arcticdraughtsman, Huttetu. Here are two verses from the poem for the day:

 "When the ship's path is stopped by fathom-thick ice, And winter's white covering is spread, When we're quite given up to the power of the stream, Oh! 'tis then that so often of home we must dream. 

 "We wish them all joy at this sweet Christmas-tide, Health and happiness for the next year, Ourselves patience to wait; 'twill bring us to the Pole, And home the next spring, never fear!"

There were many more poems, among others one giving some account ofthe principal events of the last weeks, in this style:

 "Bears are seen, and dogs are born, Cakes are baked, both small and large; Henriksen, he does not fall, Spite of bear's most violent charge; Mogstad with his rifle clicks, Jacobsen with long lance sticks, "

and so on. There was a long ditty on the subject of the "Dog Rape onboard the Fram:"

 "Up and down on a night so cold, Kvirre virre vip, bom, bom, Walk harpooner and kennelman bold, Kvirre virre vip, bom, bom;

 Our kennelman swings, I need hardly tell, Kvirre virre vip, bom, bom, The long, long lash you know so well, Kvirre virre vip, bom, bom; Our harpooner, he is a man of light, Kvirre virre vip, bom, bom, A burning lantern he grasps tight, Kvirre virre vip, bom, bom, They as they walk the time beguile, Kvirre virre vip, bom, bom, With tales of bears and all their wile, Kvirre virre vip, bom, bom. 

 "Now suddenly a bear they see, Kvirre virre vip, bom, bom, Before whom all the dogs do flee, Kvirre virre vip, bom, bom; Kennelman, like a deer, runs fast, Kvirre virre vip, bom, bom, Harpooner slow comes in the last, Kvirre virre vip, bom, bom, "

and so on. 

Among the announcements are--

 "Instruction in Fencing. 

 "In consequence of the indefinite postponement of our departure, a limited number of pupils can be received for instruction in both fencing and boxing. 

 "Majakoft, "Teacher of Boxing, "Next door to the Doctor's. "

Again--

 "On account of want of storage room, a quantity of old clothes are at present for sale, by private arrangement, at No. 2 Pump Lane. [44] Repeated requests to remove them having been of no effect, I am obliged to dispose of them in this way. The clothes are quite fresh, having been in salt for a long time. "

After the reading of the newspaper came instrumental music and singing, and it was far on in the night before we sought our berths. 

"Monday, December 25th (Christmas-day). Thermometer at 36° Fahr. Belowzero (-38° C. ). I took a walk south in the beautiful light of thefull moon. At a newly made crack I went through the fresh ice withone leg and got soaked; but such an accident matters very little inthis frost. The water immediately stiffens into ice; it does not makeone very cold, and one feels dry again soon. 

"They will be thinking much of us just now at home and giving manya pitying sigh over all the hardships we are enduring in this cold, cheerless, icy region. But I am afraid their compassion would coolif they could look in upon us, hear the merriment that goes on, andsee all our comforts and good cheer. They can hardly be better offat home. I myself have certainly never lived a more sybaritic life, and have never had more reason to fear the consequences it brings inits train. Just listen to to-day's dinner menu:

 1. Ox-tail soup; 2. Fish-pudding, with potatoes and melted butter; 3. Roast of reindeer, with pease, French beans, potatoes, and cranberry jam; 4. Cloudberries with cream; 5. Cake and marchpane (a welcome present from the baker to the expedition; we blessed that man). 

And along with all this that Ringnes bock-beer which is so famous inour part of the world. Was this the sort of dinner for men who areto be hardened against the horrors of the Arctic night?

"Every one had eaten so much that supper had to be skippedaltogether. Later in the evening coffee was served, with pineapplepreserve, gingerbread, vanilla-cakes, cocoanut macaroons, and variousother cakes, all the work of our excellent cook, Juell; and we endedup with figs, almonds, and raisins. 

"Now let us have the breakfast, just to complete the day: coffee, freshly baked bread, beautiful Danish butter, Christmas cake, Cheddarcheese, clove-cheese, tongue, corned-beef, and marmalade. And ifany one thinks that this is a specially good breakfast because it isChristmas-day he is wrong. It is just what we have always, with theaddition of the cake, which is not part of the every-day diet. 

"Add now to this good cheer our strongly built, safe house, ourcomfortable saloon, lighted up with the large petroleum lamp andseveral smaller ones (when we have no electric light), constant gayety, card-playing, and books in any quantity, with or without illustrations, good and entertaining reading, and then a good, sound sleep--whatmore could one wish?

" . . . But, O Arctic night, thou art like a woman, a marvellously lovelywoman. Thine are the noble, pure outlines of antique beauty, with itsmarble coldness. On thy high, smooth brow, clear with the clearness ofether, is no trace of compassion for the little sufferings of despisedhumanity; on thy pale, beautiful cheek no blush of feeling. Among thyraven locks, waving out into space, the hoar-frost has sprinkled itsglittering crystals. The proud lines of thy throat, thy shoulders'curves, are so noble, but, oh! unbendingly cold; thy bosom's whitechastity is feelingless as the snowy ice. Chaste, beautiful, andproud, thou floatest through ether over the frozen sea, thy glitteringgarment, woven of aurora beams, covering the vault of heaven. Butsometimes I divine a twitch of pain on thy lips, and endless sadnessdreams in thy dark eye. 

"Oh, how tired I am of thy cold beauty! I long to return tolife. Let me get home again, as conqueror or as beggar; what doesthat matter? But let me get home to begin life anew. The years arepassing here, and what do they bring? Nothing but dust, dry dust, which the first wind blows away; new dust comes in its place, and thenext wind takes it too. Truth? Why should we always make so much oftruth? Life is more than cold truth, and we live but once. 

"Tuesday, December 26th. 36° Fahr. Below zero (-38° C. ). This (thesame as yesterday's) is the greatest cold we have had yet. I wenta long way north to-day; found a big lane covered with newly frozenice, with a quite open piece of water in the middle. The ice rockedup and down under my steps, sending waves out into the open pool. Itwas strange once more to see the moonlight playing on the coal-blackwaves, and awakened a remembrance of well-known scenes. I followedthis lane far to the north, seemed to see the outlines of high landin the hazy light below the moon, and went on and on; but in the endit turned out to be a bank of clouds behind the moonlit vapor risingfrom the open water. I saw from a high hummock that this openingstretched north as far as the eye could reach. 

"The same luxurious living as yesterday; a dinner of fourcourses. Shooting with darts at a target for cigarettes has been thegreat excitement of the day. Darts and target are Johansen's Christmaspresent from Miss Fougner. 

"Wednesday, December 27th. Wind began to blow this afternoon, 19 1/2 to26 feet per second; the windmill is going again, and the arc lamp oncemore brightens our lives. Johansen gave notice of 'a shooting-matchby electric light, with free concert, ' for the evening. It was apity for himself that he did, for he and several others were shotinto bankruptcy and beggary, and had to retire one after the other, leaving their cigarettes behind them. "

"Thursday, December 28th. A little forward of the Fram there is abroad, newly formed open lane, in which she could lie crossways. Itwas covered with last night's ice, in which slight pressure beganto-day. It is strange how indifferent we are to this pressure, which was the cause of such great trouble to many earlier Arcticnavigators. We have not so much as made the smallest preparationfor possible accident, no provisions on deck, no tent, no clothingin readiness. This may seem like recklessness, but in reality thereis not the slightest prospect of the pressure harming us; we knownow what the Fram can bear. Proud of our splendid, strong ship, westand on her deck watching the ice come hurtling against her sides, being crushed and broken there and having to go down below her, while new ice-masses tumble upon her out of the dark, to meet thesame fate. Here and there, amid deafening noise, some great massrises up and launches itself threateningly upon the bulwarks, onlyto sink down suddenly, dragged the same way as the others. But attimes when one hears the roaring of tremendous pressure in the night, as a rule so deathly still, one cannot but call to mind the disastersthat this uncontrollable power has wrought. 

"I am reading the story of Kane's expedition just now. Unfortunateman, his preparations were miserably inadequate; it seems to me tohave been a reckless, unjustifiable proceeding to set out with suchequipments. Almost all the dogs died of bad food; all the men hadscurvy from the same cause, with snow-blindness, frost-bites, and allkinds of miseries. He learned a wholesome awe of the Arctic night, and one can hardly wonder at it. He writes on page 173: 'I feelthat we are fighting the battle of life at disadvantage, and thatan Arctic day and an Arctic night age a man more rapidly and harshlythan a year anywhere else in this weary world. ' In another place hewrites that it is impossible for civilized men not to suffer in suchcircumstances. These were sad but by no means unique experiences. AnEnglish Arctic explorer with whom I had some conversation alsoexpressed himself very discouragingly on the subject of life in thepolar regions, and combated my cheerful faith in the possibilityof preventing scurvy. He was of opinion that it was inevitable, andthat no expedition yet had escaped it, though some might have givenit another name: rather a humiliating view to take of the matter, I think. But I am fortunately in a position to maintain that itis not justified; and I wonder if they would not both change theiropinions if they were here. For my own part, I can say that the Arcticnight has had no aging, no weakening, influence of any kind upon me;I seem, on the contrary, to grow younger. This quiet, regular lifesuits me remarkably well, and I cannot remember a time when I was inbetter bodily health balance than I am at present. I differ from theseother authorities to the extent of feeling inclined to recommend thisregion as an excellent sanatorium in cases of nervousness and generalbreakdown. This is in all sincerity. 

"I am almost ashamed of the life we lead, with none of those darklypainted sufferings of the long winter night which are indispensable toa properly exciting Arctic expedition. We shall have nothing to writeabout when we get home. I may say the same of my comrades as I havesaid for myself; they all look healthy, fat, in good condition; noneof the traditional pale, hollow faces; no low spirits--any one hearingthe laughter that goes on in the saloon, 'the fall of greasy cards, 'etc. (see Juell's poem), would be in no doubt about this. But how, indeed, should there be any illness? With the best of food of everykind, as much of it as we want, and constant variety, so that even themost fastidious cannot tire of it, good shelter, good clothing, goodventilation, exercise in the open air ad libitum, no over-exertionin the way of work, instructive and amusing books of every kind, relaxation in the shape of cards, chess, dominoes, halma, music, and story-telling--how should any one be ill? Every now and then Ihear remarks expressive of perfect satisfaction with the life. Trulythe whole secret lies in arranging things sensibly, and especially inbeing careful about the food. A thing that I believe has a good effectupon us is this living together in the one saloon, with everythingin common. So far as I know, it is the first time that such a thinghas been tried; but it is quite to be recommended. I have heard someof the men complain of sleeplessness. This is generally consideredto be one inevitable consequence of the Arctic darkness. As far as Iam personally concerned, I can say that I have felt nothing of it; Isleep soundly at night. I have no great belief in this sleeplessness;but then I do not take an after-dinner nap, which most of the othersare addicted to; and if they sleep for several hours during the daythey can hardly expect to sleep all night as well. 'One must be awakepart of one's time, ' as Sverdrup said. 

"Sunday, December 31st. And now the last day of the year has come;it has been a long year, and has brought much both of good and bad. Itbegan with good by bringing little Liv--such a new, strange happinessthat at first I could hardly believe in it. But hard, unspeakably hard, was the parting that came later; no year has brought worse pain thanthat. And the time since has been one great longing. 

 "'Would'st thou be free from care and pain, Thou must love nothing here on earth. "

"But longing--oh, there are worse things than that! All that is goodand beautiful may flourish in its shelter. Everything would be overif we cease to long. 

"But you fell off at the end, old year; you hardly carried us so faras you ought. Still you might have done worse; you have not been sobad, after all. Have not all hopes and calculations been justified, and are we not drifting away just where I wished and hoped we shouldbe? Only one thing has been amiss--I did not think the drift wouldhave gone in quite so many zig-zags. 

"One could not have a more beautiful New-year's-eve. The auroraborealis is burning in wonderful colors and bands of light over thewhole sky, but particularly in the north. Thousands of stars sparklein the blue firmament among the northern lights. On every side theice stretches endless and silent into the night. The rime-coveredrigging of the Fram stands out sharp and dark against the shining sky. 

"The newspaper was read aloud; only verses this time; among otherpoems the following:

 "'TO THE NEW YEAR. 

 "'And you, my boy, must give yourself trouble Of your old father to be the double; Your lineage, honor, and fight hard to merit Our praise for the habits we trust you inherit. On we must go if you want to please us; To make us lie still is the way to tease us. In the old year we sailed not so badly, Be it so still, or you'll hear us groan sadly. When the time comes you must break up the ice for us; When the time comes you must win the great prize for us; We fervently hope, having reached our great goal, To eat next Christmas dinner beyond the North Pole. '

"During the evening we were regaled with pineapple, figs, cakes, and other sweets, and about midnight Hansen brought in toddy, andNordahl cigars and cigarettes. At the moment of the passing of theyear all stood up and I had to make an apology for a speech--to theeffect that the old year had been, after all, a good one, and I hopedthe new would not be worse; that I thanked them for good comradeship, and was sure that our life together this year would be as comfortableand pleasant as it had been during the last. Then they sang the songsthat had been written for the farewell entertainments given to us atChristiania and at Bergen:

 "'Our mother, weep not! it was thou Gave them the wish to wander; To leave our coasts and turn their prow Towards night and perils yonder. Thou pointedst to the open sea, The long cape was thy finger; The white sail wings they got from thee; Thou canst not bid them linger!

 "'Yes, they are thine, O mother old! And proud thou dost embrace them; Thou hear'st of dangers manifold, But know'st thy sons can face them. And tears of joy thine eyes will rain, The day the Fram comes steering Up fjord again to music strain, And the roar of thousands cheering. 

 "'E. N. '

"Then I read aloud our last greeting, a telegram we received at Tromsöfrom Moltke Moe:

 "'Luck on the way, Sun on the sea, Sun on your minds, Help from the winds; May the packed floes Part and unclose Where the ship goes. Forward her progress be, E'en though the silent sea, Then After her freeze up again. 

 "'Strength enough, meat enough, Hope enough, heat enough; The Fram will go sure enough then To the Pole and so back to the dwellings of men. Luck on the way To thee and thy band, And welcome back to the fatherland!'

"After this we read some of Vinje's poems, and then sang songs fromthe Framsjaa and others. 

"It seems strange that we should have seen the New Year in already, and that it will not begin at home for eight hours yet. It is almost 4A. M. Now. I had thought of sitting up till it was New Year in Norwaytoo; but no; I will rather go to bed and sleep, and dream that I amat home. 

"Monday, January 1st, 1894. The year began well. I was awakened byJuell's cheerful voice wishing me a Happy New Year. He had cometo give me a cup of coffee in bed--delicious Turkish coffee, hisChristmas present from Miss Fougner. It is beautiful clear weather, with the thermometer at 36° below zero (-38° C. ). It almost seems tome as if the twilight in the south were beginning to grow; the upperedge of it to-day was 14° above the horizon. 

"An extra good dinner at 6 P. M. 

 1. Tomato soup. 2. Cod roe with melted butter and potatoes. 3. Roast reindeer, with green pease, potatoes, and cranberry jam. 4. Cloudberries with milk. 

 Ringnes beer. 

"I do not know if this begins to give any impression of greatsufferings and privations. I am lying in my berth, writing, reading, and dreaming. It is always a curious feeling to write for the firsttime the number of a New Year. Not till then does one grasp the factthat the old year is a thing of the past; the new one is here, and onemust prepare to wrestle with it. Who knows what it is bringing? Goodand evil, no doubt, but most good. It cannot but be that we shall goforward towards our goal and towards home. 

 "'Life is rich and wreathed in roses; Gaze forth into a world of dreams. '

"Yes; lead us, if not to our goal--that would be too early--at leasttowards it; strengthen our hope; but perhaps--no, no perhaps. Thesebrave boys of mine deserve to succeed. There is not a doubt in theirminds. Each one's whole heart is set on getting north. I can readit in their faces--it shines from every eye. There is one sigh ofdisappointment every time that we hear that we are drifting south, onesigh of relief when we begin to go north again, to the unknown. Andit is in me and my theories that they trust. What if I have beenmistaken, and am leading them astray? Oh, I could not help myself! Weare the tools of powers beyond us. We are born under lucky or unluckystars. Till now I have lived under a lucky one; is its light to bedarkened? I am superstitious, no doubt, but I believe in my star. AndNorway, our fatherland, what has the old year brought to thee, andwhat is the new year bringing? Vain to think of that; but I lookat our pictures, the gifts of Werenskjöld, Munthe, Kitty Kielland, Skredsvig, Hansteen, Eilif Pettersen, and I am at home, at home!

"Wednesday, January 3d. The old lane about 1300 feet ahead of the Framhas opened again--a large rift, with a coating of ice and rime. Assoon as ice is formed in this temperature the frost forces it to throwout its salinity on the surface, and this itself freezes into prettysalt flowers, resembling hoar-frost. The temperature is between 38°Fahr. And 40° Fahr. Below zero (-39° C. To -40° C), but when thereis added to this a biting wind, with a velocity of from 9 to 16 feetper second, it must be allowed that it is rather 'cool in the shade. '

"Sverdrup and I agreed to-day that the Christmas holidays had betterstop now and the usual life begin again; too much idleness is not goodfor us. It cannot be called a full nor a complicated one, this lifeof ours; but it has one advantage, that we are all satisfied with it, such as it is. 

"They are still working in the engine-room, but expect to finishwhat they are doing to the boiler in a few days, and then all is donethere. Then the turning-lathe is to be set up in the hold, and toolsfor it have to be forged. There is often a job for Smith Lars, andthen the forge flames forward by the forecastle, and sends its redglow on to the rime-covered rigging, and farther up into the starrynight, and out over the waste of ice. From far off you can hear thestrokes on the anvil ringing through the silent night. When one iswandering alone out there, and the well-known sound reaches one's ear, and one sees the red glow, memory recalls less solitary scenes. Whileone stands gazing, perhaps a light moves along the deck and slowlyup the rigging. It is Johansen on his way up to the crow's-nest toread the temperature. Blessing is at present engaged in countingblood corpuscles again, and estimating amounts of hæmoglobin. Forthis purpose he draws blood every month from every mother's son ofus, the bloodthirsty dog, with supreme contempt for all the outcryagainst vivisection. Hansen and his assistant take observations. Themeteorological ones, which are taken every four hours, are Johansen'sspecial department. First he reads the thermometer, hygrometer, and thermograph on deck (they were afterwards kept on the ice);next the barometer, barograph, and thermometer in the saloon; andthen the minimum and maximum thermometers in the crow's-nest (thisto take the record of the temperature of a higher air stratum). Thenhe goes to read the thermometers that are kept on the ice to measurethe radiations from its surface, and perhaps down to the hold, too, to see what the temperature is there. Every second day, as a rule, astronomical observations are taken, to decide our whereabouts andkeep us up to date in the crab's progress we are making. Taking theseobservations with the thermometer between 22° Fahr. And 40° Fahr. Belowzero (-30° C. To -40° C. ) is a very mixed pleasure. Standing stillon deck working with these fine instruments, and screwing in metalscrews with one's bare fingers, is not altogether agreeable. Itoften happens that they must slap their arms about and tramp hard upand down the deck. They are received with shouts of laughter whenthey reappear in the saloon after the performance of one of thesethundering nigger break-downs above our heads that has shaken thewhole ship. We ask innocently if it was cold on deck. 'Not the veryleast, ' says Hansen; 'just a pleasant temperature. ' 'And your feetare not cold now?' 'No, I can't say that they are, but one's fingersget a little cold sometimes. ' Two of his had just been frost-bitten;but he refused to wear one of the wolf-skin suits which I had givenout for the meteorologists. 'It is too mild for that yet; and it doesnot do to pamper one's self, ' he says. 

"I believe it was when the thermometer stood at 40° below zero thatHansen rushed up on deck one morning in shirt and drawers to take anobservation. He said he had not time to get on his clothes. 

"At certain intervals they also take magnetic observations on theice, these two. I watch them standing there with lanterns, bendingover their instruments; and presently I see them tearing away overthe floe, their arms swinging like the sails of the windmill whenthere is a wind pressure of 32 to 39 feet--but 'it is not at allcold. ' I cannot help thinking of what I have read in the accounts ofsome of the earlier expeditions--namely, that at such temperaturesit was impossible to take observations. It would take worse thanthis to make these fellows give in. In the intervals between theirobservations and calculations I hear a murmuring in Hansen's cabin, which means that the principal is at present occupied in inflictinga dose of astronomy or navigation upon his assistant. 

"It is something dreadful the amount of card-playing that goes on inthe saloon in the evenings now; the gaming demon is abroad far intothe night; even our model Sverdrup is possessed by him. They havenot yet played the shirts off their backs, but some of them haveliterally played the bread out of their mouths; two poor wretcheshave had to go without fresh bread for a whole month because they hadforfeited their rations of it to their opponents. But, all the same, this card-playing is a healthy, harmless recreation, giving occasionfor much laughter, fun, and pleasure. 

"An Irish proverb says, 'Be happy; and if you cannot be happy, be careless; and if you cannot be careless, be as careless as youcan. ' This is good philosophy, which--no, what need of proverbs here, where life is happy! It was in all sincerity that Amundsen burstout yesterday with, 'Yes, isn't it just as I say, that we are theluckiest men on earth that can live up here where we have no cares, get everything given us without needing to trouble about it, and arewell off in every possible way?' Hansen agreed that it certainlywas a life without care. Juell said much the same a little ago;what seems to please him most is that there are no summonses here, no creditors, no bills. And I? Yes, I am happy too. It is an easylife; nothing that weighs heavy on one, no letters, no newspapers, nothing disturbing; just that monastic, out-of-the-world existencethat was my dream when I was younger and yearned for quietness inwhich to give myself up to my studies. Longing, even when it isstrong and sad, is not unhappiness. A man has truly no right to beanything but happy when fate permits him to follow up his ideals, exempting him from the wearing strain of every-day cares, that hemay with clearer vision strive towards a lofty goal. 

"'Where there is work, success will follow, ' said a poet of theland of work. I am working as hard as I can, so I suppose successwill pay me a visit by-and-by. I am lying on the sofa, reading aboutKane's misfortunes, drinking beer, smoking cigarettes. Truth obligesme to confess that I have become addicted to the vice I condemn sostrongly--but flesh is grass; so I blow the smoke clouds into the airand dream sweet dreams. It is hard work, but I must do the best I can. 

"Thursday, January 4th. It seems as if the twilight were increasingquite perceptibly now, but this is very possibly only imagination. Iam in good spirits in spite of the fact that we are drifting southagain. After all, what does it matter? Perhaps the gain to sciencewill be as great, and, after all, I suppose this desire to reach theNorth Pole is only a piece of vanity. I have now a very good idea ofwhat it must be like up there. ('I like that!' say you. ) Our deepwater here is connected with, is a part of, the deep water of theAtlantic Ocean--of this there can be no doubt. And have not I foundthat things go exactly as I calculated they would whenever we get afavorable wind? Have not many before us had to wait for wind? Andas to vanity--that is a child's disease, got over long ago. Allcalculations, with but one exception, have proved correct. We madeour way along the coast of Asia, which many prophesied we shouldhave great difficulty in doing. We were able to sail farther norththan I had dared to hope for in my boldest moments, and in just thelongitude I wished. We are closed in by the ice, also as I wished. TheFram has borne the ice-pressure splendidly, and allows herself tobe lifted by it without so much as creaking, in spite of being moreheavily loaded with coal, and drawing more water than we reckoned onwhen we made our calculations; and this after her certain destructionand ours was prophesied by those most experienced in such matters. Ihave not found the ice higher nor heavier than I expected it to be;and the comfort, warmth, and good ventilation on board are far beyondmy expectations. Nothing is wanting in our equipment, and the foodis quite exceptionally good. As Blessing and I agreed a few daysago, it is as good as at home; there is not a thing we long for;not even the thought of a beefsteak à la Châteaubriand, or a porkcutlet with mushrooms and a bottle of Burgundy, can make our mouthswater; we simply don't care about such things. The preparations forthe expedition cost me several years of precious life; but now I donot grudge them: my object is attained. On the drifting ice we live awinter life, not only in every respect better than that of previousexpeditions, but actually as if we had brought a bit of Norway, ofEurope, with us. We are as well off as if we were at home. All togetherin one saloon, with everything in common, we are a little part of thefatherland, and daily we draw closer and closer together. In one pointonly have my calculations proved incorrect, but unfortunately in oneof the most important. I presupposed a shallow Polar Sea, the greatestdepth known in these regions up till now being 80 fathoms, found by theJeannette. I reasoned that all currents would have a strong influencein the shallow Polar Sea, and that on the Asiatic side the current ofthe Siberian rivers would be strong enough to drive the ice a good waynorth. But here I already find a depth which we cannot measure withall our line, a depth of certainly 1000 fathoms, and possibly doublethat. This at once upsets all faith in the operation of a current;we find either none, or an extremely slight one; my only trust nowis in the winds. Columbus discovered America by means of a mistakencalculation, and even that not his own; heaven only knows where mymistake will lead us. Only I repeat once more--the Siberian driftwoodon the coast of Greenland cannot lie, and the way it went we must go. 

"Monday, January 8th. Little Liv is a year old to-day; it will be afête day at home. As I was lying on the sofa reading after dinner, Peter put his head in at the door and asked me to come up and look ata strange star which had just shown itself above the horizon, shininglike a beacon flame. I got quite a start when I came on deck and sawa strong red light just above the edge of the ice in the south. Ittwinkled and changed color; it looked just as if some one were comingcarrying a lantern over the ice; I actually believe that for a momentI so far forgot our surroundings as to think that it really was someperson approaching from the south. It was Venus, which we see to-dayfor the first time, as it has till now been beneath the horizon. Itis beautiful with its red light. Curious that it should happen to cometo-day. It must be Liv's star, as Jupiter is the home star. And Liv'sbirthday is a lucky day--we are on our way north again. According toobservations we are certainly north of 79° north latitude. On the homeday, September 6th, the favorable wind began to blow that carried usalong the coast of Asia; perhaps Liv's day has brought us into a goodcurrent, and we are making the real start for the north under her star. 

"Friday, January 12th. There was pressure about 10 o'clock this morningin the opening forward, but I could see no movement when I was therea little later. I followed the opening some way to the north. It ispretty cold work walking with the thermometer at 40° Fahr. Below zero, and the wind blowing with a velocity of 16 feet per second straight inyour face. But now we are certainly drifting fast to the north underLiv's star. After all, it is not quite indifferent to me whether weare going north or south. When the drift is northward new life seemsto come into me, and hope, the ever-young, springs fresh and greenfrom under the winter snow. I see the way open before me, and I seethe home-coming in the distance--too great happiness to believe in. 

"Sunday, January 14th. Sunday again. The time is passing almostquickly, and there is more light every day. There was great excitementto-day when yesterday evening's observations were being calculated. Allguessed that we had come a long way north again. Several thought to79° 18' or 20'. Others, I believe, insisted on 80°. The calculationplaces us in 79° 19' north latitude, 137° 31' east longitude. A goodstep onward. Yesterday the ice was quiet, but this morning therewas considerable pressure in several places. Goodness knows what iscausing it just now; it is a whole week after new moon. I took a longwalk to the southwest, and got right in among it. Packing began whereI stood, with roars and thunders below me and on every side. I jumped, and ran like a hare, as if I had never heard such a thing before; itcame so unexpectedly. The ice was curiously flat there to the south;the farther I went the flatter it grew, with excellent sledgingsurface. Over such ice one could drive many miles a day. 

"Monday, January 15th. There was pressure forward both this morning andtowards noon, but we heard the loudest sounds from the north. Sverdrup, Mogstad, and Peter went in that direction and were stopped by alarge, open channel. Peter and I afterwards walked a long distanceN. N. E. , past a large opening that I had skirted before Christmas. Itwas shining, flat ice, splendid for sledging on, always better thefarther north we went. The longer I wander about and see this sortof ice in all directions, the more strongly does a plan take hold ofme that I have long had in my mind. It would be possible to get withdogs and sledges over this ice to the Pole, if one left the ship forgood and made one's way back in the direction of Franz Josef Land, Spitzbergen, or the west coast of Greenland. It might almost be calledan easy expedition for two men. 

"But it would be too hasty to go off in spring. We must first seewhat kind of drift the summer brings. And as I think over it, I feeldoubtful if it would be right to go off and leave the others. Imagineif I came home and they did not! Yet it was to explore the unknownpolar regions that I came; it was for that the Norwegian peoplegave their money; and surely my first duty is to do that if I can. Imust give the drift plan a longer trial yet; but if it takes us in awrong direction, then there is nothing for it but to try the other, come what may. 

"Tuesday, January 16th. The ice is quiet to-day. Does longingstupefy one, or does it wear itself out and turn at last intostolidity? Oh that burning longing night and day were happiness! Butnow its fire has turned to ice. Why does home seem so far away? Itis one's all; life without it is so empty, so empty--nothing butdead emptiness. Is it the restlessness of spring that is beginningto come over one?--the desire for action, for something differentfrom this indolent, enervating life? Is the soul of man nothing buta succession of moods and feelings, shifting as incalculably as thechanging winds? Perhaps my brain is over-tired; day and night mythoughts have turned on the one point, the possibility of reachingthe Pole and getting home. Perhaps it is rest I need--to sleep, sleep! Am I afraid of venturing my life? No, it cannot be that. Butwhat else, then, can be keeping me back? Perhaps a secret doubt ofthe practicability of the plan. My mind is confused; the whole thinghas got into a tangle; I am a riddle to myself. I am worn out, andyet I do not feel any special tiredness. Is it perhaps because I satup reading last night? Everything around is emptiness, and my brainis a blank. I look at the home pictures and am moved by them in acurious, dull way; I look into the future, and feel as if it doesnot much matter to me whether I get home in the autumn of this yearor next. So long as I get home in the end, a year or two seem almostnothing. I have never thought this before. I have no inclination toread, nor to draw, nor to do anything else whatever. Folly! Shall Itry a few pages of Schopenhauer? No, I will go to bed, though I amnot sleepy. Perhaps, if the truth were known, I am longing now morethan ever. The only thing that helps me is writing, trying to expressmyself on these pages, and then looking at myself, as it were, fromthe outside. Yes, man's life is nothing but a succession of moods, half memory and half hope. 

"Thursday, January 18th. The wind that began yesterday has gone onblowing all to-day with a velocity of 16 to 19 feet per second, fromS. S. E. , S. E. , and E. S. E. It has no doubt helped us on a good way north;but it seems to be going down; now, about midnight, it has sunk to4 metres; and the barometer, which has been rising all the time, hassuddenly begun to fall; let us hope that it is not a cyclone passingover us, bringing northerly wind. It is curious that there is almostalways a rise of the thermometer with these stronger winds; to-day itrose to 13° Fahr. Below zero (-25° C). A south wind of less velocitygenerally lowers the temperature, and a moderate north wind raisesit. Payer's explanation of this raising of the temperature by strongwinds is that the wind is warmed by passing over large openings inthe ice. This can hardly be correct, at any rate in our case, forwe have few or no openings. I am rather inclined to believe that therise is produced by air from higher strata being brought down to thesurface of the earth. It is certain that the higher air is warmerthan the lower, which comes into contact with snow and ice surfacescooled by radiation. Our observations go to prove that such is thecase. Add to this that the air in its fall is heated by the risingpressure. A strong wind, even if it does not come from the higherstrata of the atmosphere, must necessarily make some confusion in themutual position of the various strata, mixing the higher with thosebelow them, and vice versa. 

"I had a strange dream last night. I had got home. I can still feelsomething of the trembling joy, mixed with fear, with which I nearedland and the first telegraph station. I had carried out my plan;we had reached the North Pole on sledges, and then got down to FranzJosef Land. I had seen nothing but drift-ice; and when people askedwhat it was like up there, and how we knew we had been to the Pole, Ihad no answer to give; I had forgotten to take accurate observations, and now began to feel that this had been stupid of me. It is verycurious that I had an exactly similar dream when we were drifting onthe ice-floes along the east coast of Greenland, and thought that wewere being carried farther and farther from our destination. ThenI dreamed that I had reached home after crossing Greenland on theice; but that I was ashamed because I could give no account of whatI had seen on the way--I had forgotten everything. Is there not alucky omen in the resemblance between these two dreams? I attainedmy aim the first time, bad as things looked; shall I not do so thistime too? If I were superstitious I should feel surer of it; but, even though I am not at all superstitious, I have a firm convictionthat our enterprise must be successful. This belief is not merely theresult of the last two days' south wind; something within me says thatwe shall succeed. I laugh now at myself for having been weak enough todoubt it. I can spend hours staring into the light, dreaming of how, when we land, I shall grope my way to the first telegraph station, trembling with emotion and suspense. I write out telegram aftertelegram; I ask the clerk if he can give me any news from home. 

"Friday, January 19th. Splendid wind, with velocity of 13 to 19feet per second; we are going north at a grand rate. The red, glowing twilight is now so bright about midday that if we were inmore southern latitudes we should expect to see the sun rise brightand glorious above the horizon in a few minutes; but we shall haveto wait a month yet for that. 

"Saturday, January 20th. I had about 600 pounds of pemmican and 200pounds of bread brought up from the hold to-day and stowed on theforecastle. It is wrong not to have some provisions on deck againstany sudden emergency, such as fire. 

"Sunday, January 21st. We took a long excursion to the northwest;the ice in that direction, too, was tolerably flat. Sverdrup andI got on the top of a high-pressure mound at some distance fromhere. It was in the centre of what had been very violent packing, but, all the same, the wall at its highest was not over 17 feet, and this was one of the highest and biggest altogether that I haveseen yet. An altitude of the moon taken this evening showed us tobe in 79° 35' north latitude--exactly what I had thought. We are soaccustomed now to calculating our drift by the wind that we are ableto tell pretty nearly where we are. This is a good step northward, if we could take many more such. In honor of the King's birthday wehave a treat of figs, raisins, and almonds. 

"Tuesday, January 23d. When I came on deck this morning 'Caiaphas'was sitting out on the ice on the port quarter, barking incessantlyto the east. I knew there must be something there, and went off witha revolver, Sverdrup following with one also. When I got near the doghe came to meet me, always wriggling his head round to the east andbarking; then he ran on before us in that direction; it was plain thatthere was some animal there, and of course it could only be a bear. Thefull moon stood low and red in the north, and sent its feeble lightobliquely across the broken ice-surface. I looked out sharply in alldirections over the hummocks, which cast long, many-shaped shadows; butI could distinguish nothing in this confusion. We went on, 'Caiaphas'first, growling and barking and pricking his ears, and I after him, expecting every moment to see a bear loom up in front of us. Ourcourse was eastward along the opening. The dog presently began to gomore cautiously and straighter forward; then he stopped making anynoise except a low growl--we were evidently drawing near. I mounteda hummock to look about, and caught sight among the blocks of ice ofsomething dark, which seemed to be coming towards us. 'There comes ablack dog, ' I called. 'No, it is a bear, ' said Sverdrup, who was moreto the side of it and could see better. I saw now, too, that it was alarge animal, and that it had only been its head that I had taken fora dog. It was not unlike a bear in its movements, but it seemed to meremarkably dark in color. I pulled the revolver out of the holster andrushed forward to empty all its barrels into the creature's head. WhenI was just a few paces from it, and preparing to shoot, it raised itshead and I saw that it was a walrus, and that same moment it threwitself sideways into the water. There we stood. To shoot at such afellow with a revolver would be of as much use as squirting water ata goose. The great black head showed again immediately in a stripof moonlight on the dark water. The animal took a long look at us, disappeared for a little, appeared again nearer, bobbed up and down, blew, lay with its head under water, shoved itself over towards us, raised its head again. It was enough to drive one mad; if we had onlyhad a harpoon I could easily have stuck it into its back. Yes, if wehad had--and back to the Fram we ran as fast as our legs would carryus to get harpoon and rifle. But the harpoon and line were storedaway, and were not to be had at once. Who could have guessed thatthey would be needed here? The harpoon point had to be sharpened, and all this took time. And for all our searching afterwards east andwest along the opening, no walrus was to be found. Goodness knowswhere it had gone, as there are hardly any openings in the ice fora long distance round. Sverdrup and I vainly fret over not havingknown at once what kind of animal it was, for if we had only guessedwe should have him now. But who expects to meet a walrus on close icein the middle of a wild sea of a thousand fathoms depth, and that inthe heart of winter? None of us ever heard of such a thing before; itis a perfect mystery. As I thought we might have come upon shoals orinto the neighborhood of land, I had soundings taken in the afternoonwith 130 fathoms (240 metres) of line, but no bottom was found. 

"By yesterday's observations we are in 79° 41' north latitude and 135°29' east longitude. That is good progress north, and it does not muchmatter that we have been taken a little west. The clouds are drivingthis evening before a strong south wind, so we shall likely be goingbefore it soon too; in the meantime there is a breeze from the southso slight that you hardly feel it. 

"The opening on our stern lies almost east and west. We could seeno end to it westward when we went after the walrus; and Mogstad andPeter had gone three miles east, and it was as broad as ever there. 

"Wednesday, January 24th. At supper this evening Peter told some of hisremarkable Spitzbergen stories--about his comrade Andreas Bek. 'Well, you see, it was up about Dutchman's Island, or Amsterdam Island, thatAndreas Bek and I were on shore and got in among all the graves. Wethought we'd like to see what was in them, so we broke up some ofthe coffins, and there they lay. Some of them had still flesh ontheir jaws and noses, and some of them still had their caps on theirheads. Andreas, he was a devil of a fellow, you see, and he broke upthe coffins and got hold of the skulls, and rolled them about hereand there. Some of them he set up for targets and shot at. Then hewanted to see if there was marrow left in their bones, so he tookand broke a thigh-bone--and, sure enough, there was marrow; he tookand picked it out with a wooden pin. '

"'How could he do a thing like that?'

"'Oh, it was only a Dutchman, you know. But he had a bad dream thatnight, had Andreas. All the dead men came to fetch him, and he ranfrom them and got right out on the bowsprit, and there he sat andyelled, while the dead men stood on the forecastle. And the one withhis broken thigh-bone in his hand was foremost, and he came crawlingout, and wanted Andreas to put it together again. But just then hewakened. We were lying in the same berth, you see, Andreas and me, and I sat up in the berth and laughed, listening to him yelling. Iwouldn't waken him, not I. I thought it was fun to hear him gettingpaid out a little. '

"'It was bad of you, Peter, to have any part in that horrid plunderingof dead bodies. '

"'Oh, I never did anything to them, you know. Just once I broke up acoffin to get wood to make a fire for our coffee; but when we openedit the body just fell to pieces. But it was juicy wood, that, betterto burn than the best fir-roots--such a fire as it made!'

"One of the others now remarked, 'Wasn't it the devil that used askull for his coffee-cup?'

"'Well, he hadn't anything else, you see, and he just happened tofind one. There was no harm in that, was there?'

"Then Jacobsen began to hold forth: 'It's not at all such an uncommonthing to use skulls for shooting at, either because people fancy themfor targets, or because of some other reason; they shoot in throughthe eyeholes, ' etc. , etc. 

"I asked Peter about 'Tobiesen's' coffin--if it had ever been dug upto find out if it was true that his men had killed him and his son. 

"'No, that one has never been dug up. '

"'I sailed past there last year, ' begins Jacobsen again; 'I didn'tgo ashore, but it seems to me that I heard that it had been dug up. '

"'That's just rubbish; it has never been dug up. '

"'Well, ' said I, 'it seems to me that I've heard something about ittoo; I believe it was here on board, and I am very much mistaken ifit was not yourself that said it, Peter. '

"'No, I never said that. All I said was that a man once struck awalrus-spear through the coffin, and it's sticking there yet. '

"'What did he do that for?'

"'Oh, just because he wanted to know if there was anything in thecoffin; and yet he didn't want to open it, you know. But let him liein peace now. '"

"Friday January 26th. Peter and I went eastward along the opening thismorning for about seven miles, and we saw where it ends, in some oldpressure-ridges; its whole length is over seven miles. Movement in theice began on our way home; indeed, there was pretty strong pressureall the time. As we were walking on the new ice in the opening itrose in furrows or cracked under our feet. Then it raised itself upinto two high walls, between which we walked as if along a street, amidst unceasing noises, sometimes howling and whining like a dogcomplaining of the cold, sometimes a roar like the thunder of a greatwaterfall. We were often obliged to take refuge on the old ice, eitherbecause we came to open water with a confusion of floating blocks, orbecause the line of the packing had gone straight across the opening, and there was a wall in front of us like a high frozen wave. It seemedas if the ice on the south side of the opening where the Fram is lyingwere moving east, or else that on the north side was moving west;for the floes on the two sides slanted in towards each other in thesedirections. We saw tracks of a little bear which had trotted alongthe opening the day before. Unfortunately it had gone off southwest, and we had small hope, with this steady south wind, of its gettingscent of the ship and coming to fetch a little of the flesh on board. 

"Saturday, January 27th. The days are turning distinctly lighternow. We can just see to read Verdens Gang [45] about midday. At thattime to-day Sverdrup thought he saw land far astern; it was dark andirregular, in some places high; he fancied that it might be only anappearance of clouds. When I returned from a walk, about 1 o'clock, I went up to look, but saw only piled-up ice. Perhaps this was thesame as he saw, or possibly I was too late. (It turned out next dayto be only an optical illusion. ) Severe pressure has been going onthis evening. It began at 7. 30 astern in the opening, and went onsteadily for two hours. It sounded as if a roaring waterfall wererushing down upon us with a force that nothing could resist. Oneheard the big floes crashing and breaking against each other. Theywere flung and pressed up into high walls, which must now stretchalong the whole opening east and west, for one hears the roar thewhole way. It is coming nearer just now; the ship is getting violentshocks; it is like waves in the ice. They come on us from behind, and move forward. We stare out into the night, but can see nothing, for it is pitch-dark. Now I hear cracking and shifting in the hummockon the starboard quarter; it gets louder and stronger, and extendssteadily. At last the waterfall roar abates a little. It becomes moreunequal; there is a longer interval between each shock. I am so coldthat I creep below. 

"But no sooner have I seated myself to write than the ship begins toheave and tremble again, and I hear through her sides the roar of thepacking. As the bear-trap may be in danger, three men go off to seeto it, but they find that there is a distance of 50 paces betweenthe new pressure-ridge and the wire by which the trap is secured, so they leave it as it is. The pressure-ridge was an ugly sight, they say, but they could distinguish nothing well in the dark. 

"Most violent pressure is beginning again. I must go on deck andlook at it. The loud roar meets one as one opens the door. It iscoming from the bow now, as well as from the stern. It is clear thatpressure-ridges are being thrown up in both openings, so if they reachus we shall be taken by both ends and lifted lightly and gently out ofthe water. There is pressure near us on all sides. Creaking has begunin the old hummock on the port quarter; it is getting louder, and, so far as I can see, the hummock is slowly rising. A lane has openedright across the large floe on the port side; you can see the water, dark as it is. Now both pressure and noise get worse and worse; theship shakes, and I feel as if I myself were being gently lifted withthe stern-rail, where I stand gazing out at the welter of ice-massesthat resemble giant snakes writhing and twisting their great bodiesout there under the quiet, starry sky, whose peace is only broken byone aurora serpent waving and flickering restlessly in the northeast. Ionce more think what a comfort it is to be safe on board the Fram, andlook out with a certain contempt at the horrible hurly-burly Natureis raising to no purpose whatever; it will not crush us in a hurry, nor even frighten us. Suddenly I remember that my fine thermometeris in a hole on a floe to port on the other side of the opening, and must certainly be in danger. I jump on to the ice, find a placewhere I can leap across the opening, and grope about in the dark untilI find the piece of ice covering the hole; I get hold of the string, and the thermometer is saved. I hurry on board again well pleased, anddown into my comfortable cabin to smoke a pipe of peace--alas! thisvice grows upon me more and more--and to listen with glee to theroar of the pressure outside and feel its shakings, like so manyearthquakes, as I sit and write my diary. Safe and comfortable, Icannot but think with deep pity of the many who have had to stand byon deck in readiness to leave their frail vessels on the occurrenceof any such pressure. The poor Tegethoff fellows--they had a bad timeof it, and yet theirs was a good ship in comparison with many of theothers. It is now 11. 30, and the noise outside seems to be subsiding. 

"It is remarkable that we should have this strong pressure just now, with the moon in its last quarter and neap tide. This does not agreewith our previous experiences; no more does the fact that the pressurethe day before yesterday was from 12 A. M. To about 2 P. M. , and thenagain at 2 A. M. , and now we have had it from 7. 30 to 10. 30 P. M. Canland have something to do with it here, after all? The temperatureto-day is 42° Fahr. Below zero (-41. 4° C), but there is no wind, andwe have not had such pleasant weather for walking for a long time;it feels almost mild here when the air is still. 

"No, that was not the end of the pressure. When I was on deck ata quarter to twelve roaring and trembling began again in the iceforward on the port quarter; then suddenly came one loud boom afteranother, sounding out in the distance, and the ship gave a start;there was again a little pressure, and after that quietness. Faintaurora borealis. 

"Sunday, January 28th. Strange to say, there has been no pressuresince 12 o'clock last night; the ice seems perfectly quiet. Thepressure-ridge astern showed what violent packing yesterday's was;in one place its height was 18 or 19 feet above the surface of thewater; floe-ice 8 feet thick was broken, pressed up in square blocks, and crushed to pieces. At one point a huge monolith of such floe-icerose high into the air. Beyond this pressure-wall there was no greatdisturbance to be detected. There had been a little packing here andthere, and the floe to port had four or five large cracks across it, which no doubt accounted for the explosions I heard last night. Theice to starboard was also cracked in several places. The pressurehad evidently come from the north or N. N. E. The ridge behind us isone of the highest I have seen yet. I believe that if the Fram hadbeen lying there she would have been lifted right out of the water. Iwalked for some distance in a northeasterly direction, but saw nosigns of pressure there. 

"Another Sunday. It is wonderful that the time can pass so quicklyas it does. For one thing we are in better spirits, knowing that weare drifting steadily north. A rough estimate of to-day's observationgives 79° 50' north latitude. That is not much since Monday; but thenyesterday and to-day there has been almost no wind at all, and theother days it has been very light--only once or twice with as muchas 9 feet velocity, the rest of the time 3 and 6. 

"A remarkable event happened yesterday afternoon: I got Munthe'spicture of the 'Three Princesses' fastened firmly on the wall. It isa thing that we have been going to do ever since we left Christiania, but we have never been able to summon up energy for such a heavyundertaking--it meant knocking in four nails--and the picture hasamused itself by constantly falling and guillotining whoever happenedto be sitting on the sofa below it. 

"Tuesday, January 30th. 79° 49' north latitude, 134° 57' eastlongitude, is the tale told by this afternoon's observations, whileby Sunday afternoon's we were in 79° 50' north latitude, and 133° 23'east longitude. This fall-off to the southeast again was not more thanI had expected, as it has been almost calm since Sunday. I explain thething to myself thus: When the ice has been set adrift in a certaindirection by the wind blowing that way for some time it graduallyin process of drifting becomes more compressed, and when that winddies away a reaction in the opposite direction takes place. Such areaction must, I believe, have been the cause of Saturday's pressure, which stopped entirely as suddenly as it began. Since then there hasnot been the slightest appearance of movement in the ice. Probably thepressure indicates the time when the drift turned. A light breeze hassprung up this afternoon from S. E. And E. S. E. , increasing graduallyto almost 'mill wind. ' We are going north again; surely we shall getthe better of the 80th degree this time. 

"Wednesday, January 31st. The wind is whistling among the hummocks;the snow flies rustling through the air; ice and sky are melted intoone. It is dark; our skins are smarting with the cold; but we aregoing north at full speed, and are in the wildest of gay spirits. 

"Thursday, February 1st. The same sort of weather as yesterday, exceptthat it has turned quite mild--7 1/2° Fahr. Below zero (-22° C. ). Thesnow is falling exactly as it does in winter weather at home. Thewind is more southerly, S. S. E. Now, and rather lighter. It may betaken for granted that we have passed the 80th degree, and we had asmall preliminary fête this evening--figs, raisins, and almonds--anddart-shooting, which last resulted for me in a timely replenishmentof my cigarette-case. "

"Friday, February 2d. High festival to-day in honor of the 80th degree, beginning with fresh rye-bread and cake for breakfast. Took a longwalk to get up an appetite for dinner. According to this morning'sobservation, we are in 80° 10' north latitude and 132° 10' eastlongitude. Hurrah! Well sailed! I had offered to bet heavily that wehad passed 80°, but no one would take the bet. Dinner menu: Ox-tailsoup, fish-pudding, potatoes, rissoles, green pease, haricot beans, cloudberries with milk, and a whole bottle of beer to each man. Coffeeand a cigarette after dinner. Could one wish for more? In the eveningwe had tinned pears and peaches, gingerbread, dried bananas, figs, raisins, and almonds. Complete holiday all day. We read aloud thediscussions of this expedition published before we left, and had somegood laughs at the many objections raised. But our people at home, perhaps, do not laugh if they read them now. 

"Monday, February 5th. Last time we shall have Ringnes beer atdinner. Day of mourning. 

"Tuesday, February 6th. Calm, clear weather. A strong sun-glow abovethe horizon in the south; yellow, green, and light blue above that;all the rest of the sky deep ultramarine. I stood looking at it, trying to remember if the Italian sky was ever bluer; I do not thinkso. It is curious that this deep color should always occur along withcold. Is it perhaps that a current from more northerly, clear regionsproduces drier and more transparent air in the upper strata? The colorwas so remarkable to-day that one could not help noticing it. Strikingcontrasts to it were formed by the Fram's red deck-house and the whitesnow on roof and rigging. Ice and hummocks were quite violet whereverthey were turned from the daylight. This color was specially strongover the fields of snow upon the floes. The temperature has been 52°Fahr. And 54° Fahr. Below zero (-47° and -48° C. ). There is a suddenchange of 125° Fahr. When one comes up from the saloon, where thethermometer is at 72° Fahr. (+22° C. ); but, although thinly clad andbareheaded, one does not feel it cold, and can even with impunity takehold of the brass door-handle or the steel cable of the rigging. Thecold is visible, however; one's breath is like cannon smoke before itis out of one's mouth; and when a man spits there is quite a littlecloud of steam round the fallen moisture. The Fram always gives offa mist, which is carried along by the wind, and a man or a dog can bedetected far off among the hummocks or pressure-ridges by the pillarof vapor that follows his progress. 

"Wednesday, February 7th. It is extraordinary what a frail thing hope, or rather the mind of man, is. There was a little breeze this morningfrom the N. N. E. , only 6 feet per second, thermometer at 57° Fahr. Belowzero (-49. 6° C. ), and immediately one's brow is clouded over, and itbecomes a matter of indifference how we get home, so long as we onlyget home soon. I immediately assume land to the northward, from whichcome these cold winds, with clear atmosphere and frost and bright blueskies, and conclude that this extensive tract of land must form a poleof cold with a constant maximum of air-pressure, which will force ussouth with northeast winds. About midday the air began to grow morehazy and my mood less gloomy. No doubt there is a south wind coming, but the temperature is still too low for it. Then the temperature, too, rises, and now we can rely on the wind. And this evening it came, sure enough, from S. S. W. , and now, 12 P. M. , its velocity is 11 feet, and the temperature has risen to 43° Fahr. Below zero ( -42° C. ). Thispromises well. We should soon reach 81°. The land to the northwardhas now vanished from my mind's eye. 

"We had lime-juice with sugar at dinner to-day instead of beer, and it seemed to be approved of. We call it wine, and we agreedthat it was better than cider. Weighing has gone on this evening, and the increase in certain cases is still disquieting. Some havegained as much as 4 pounds in the last month--for instance, Sverdrup, Blessing, and Juell, who beats the record on board with 13 stone. 'Inever weighed so much as I do now, ' says Blessing, and it is muchthe same story with us all. Yes, this is a fatiguing expedition, but our menus are always in due proportion to our labors. To-day'sdinner: Knorr's bean soup, toad-in-the-hole, potatoes, rice and milk, with cranberry jam. Yesterday's dinner: Fish au gratin (hashed fish)with potatoes, curried rabbit with potatoes and French beans, stewedbilberries, and cranberries with milk. At breakfast yesterday wehad freshly baked wheat-bread, at breakfast to-day freshly bakedrye-bread. These are specimens of our ordinary bills of fare. Itis as I expected: I hear the wind roaring in the rigging now; it isgoing to be a regular storm, according to our ideas of one here. 

"Saturday, February 10th. Though that wind the other day did notcome to much after all, we still hoped that we had made good waynorth, and it was consequently an unwelcome surprise when yesterday'sobservation showed our latitude to be 79° 57' N. , 13' farther southinstead of farther north. It is extraordinary how little inuredone gets to disappointments; the longing begins again; and againattainment seems so far off, so doubtful. And this though I dream atnights just now of getting out of the ice west of Iceland. Hope is arickety craft to trust one's self to. I had a long, successful drivewith the dogs to-day. 

"Sunday, February 11th. To-day we drove out with two teams ofdogs. Things went well; the sledges got on much better over this icethan I thought they would. They do not sink much in the snow. On flatice four dogs can draw two men. 

"Tuesday, February 13th. A long drive southwest yesterday with whitedogs. To-day still farther in the same direction on snow-shoes. Itis good healthy exercise, with a temperature of 43° Fahr. To 47°Fahr. Below zero (-42° and -44° C. ) and a biting north wind. Nature isso fair and pure, the ice is so spotless, and the lights and shadowsof the growing day so beautiful on the new-fallen snow. The Fram'shoar-frost-covered rigging rises straight and white with rime towardsthe sparkling blue sky. One's thoughts turn to the snow-shoeing daysat home. 

"Thursday, February 15th. I went yesterday on snow-shoes farthernortheast than I have ever been before, but I could still see theship's rigging above the edge of the ice. I was able to go fast, because the ice was flat in that direction. To-day I went the sameway with dogs. I am examining the 'lie of the land' all round, andthinking of plans for the future. 

"What exaggerated reports of the Arctic cold are in circulation! Itwas cold in Greenland, and it is not milder here; the generalday temperature just now is about 40° Fahr. And 43° Fahr. Belowzero. I was clothed yesterday as usual as regards the legs--drawers, knickerbockers, stockings, frieze leggings, snow-socks, and moccasins;my body covering consisted of an ordinary shirt, a wolf-skin cape, and a sealskin jacket, and I sweated like a horse. To-day I sat still, driving with only thin ducks above my ordinary leg wear, and on mybody woollen shirt, vest, Iceland woollen jersey, a frieze coat, and a sealskin one. I found the temperature quite pleasant, and evenperspired a little to-day, too. Both yesterday and to-day I had ared-flannel mask on my face, but it made me too warm, and I had to takeit off, though there was a bitter breeze from the north. That northwind is still persistent, sometimes with a velocity of 9 or even 13feet, but yet we do not seem to be drifting south; we lie in 80° northlatitude, or even a few minutes farther north. What can be the reasonof this? There is a little pressure every day just now. Curious thatit should again occur at the moon's change of quarter. The moon standshigh in the sky, and there is daylight now, too. Soon the sun willbe making his appearance, and when he does we shall hold high festival. 

"Friday, February 16th. Hurrah! A meridian observation to-day shows80° 1' north latitude, so that we have come a few minutes north sincelast Friday, and that in spite of constant northerly winds sinceMonday. There is something very singular about this. Is it, as I havethought all along from the appearance of the clouds and the hazinessof the air, that there has been south wind in the south, preventingthe drift of the ice that way, or have we at last come under theinfluence of a current? That shove we got to the south lately inthe face of southerly winds was a remarkable thing, and so is ourremaining where we are now in spite of the northerly ones. It wouldseem that new powers of some kind must be at work. "To-day anothernoteworthy thing happened, which was that about midday we saw thesun, or, to be more correct, an image of the sun, for it was onlya mirage. A peculiar impression was produced by the sight of thatglowing fire lit just above the outermost edge of the ice. Accordingto the enthusiastic descriptions given by many Arctic travellers ofthe first appearance of this god of life after the long winter night, the impression ought to be one of jubilant excitement; but it wasnot so in my case. We had not expected to see it for some days yet, so that my feeling was rather one of pain, of disappointment, thatwe must have drifted farther south than we thought. So it was withpleasure I soon discovered that it could not be the sun itself. Themirage was at first like a flattened-out glowing red streak of fireon the horizon; later there were two streaks, the one above the other, with a dark space between; and from the main-top I could see four, oreven five, such horizontal lines directly over one another, and allof equal length; as if one could only imagine a square dull-red sunwith horizontal dark streaks across it. An astronomical observation wetook in the afternoon showed that the sun must in reality have been 2°22' below the horizon at noon; we cannot expect to see its disk abovethe ice before Tuesday at the earliest: it depends on the refraction, which is very strong in this cold air. All the same, we had a smallsun-festival this evening, on the occasion of the appearance of itsimage--a treat of figs, bananas, raisins, almonds, and gingerbread. 

"Sunday, February 18th. I went eastward yesterday on snow-shoes, andfound a good snow-shoeing and driving road out to the flats that liein that direction. There is a pretty bad bit first, with hummocks andpressure-ridges, and then you come out on these great wide plains, which seem to extend for miles and miles to the north, east, andsoutheast. To-day I drove out there with eight dogs; the drivinggoes capitally now; some of the others followed on snow-shoes. Stillnortherly wind. This is slow work; but anyhow we are having clear, bright weather. Yes, it is all very well--we snow-shoe, sledge, read both for instruction and amusement, write, take observations, play cards, chat, smoke, play chess, eat and drink; but all the sameit is an execrable life in the long-run, this--at least, so it seemsto me at times. When I look at the picture of our beautiful home inthe evening light, with my wife standing in the garden, I feel asif it were impossible that this could go on much longer. But onlythe merciless fates know when we shall stand there together again, feeling all life's sweetness as we look out over the smiling fjord, and . . . Taking everything into calculation, if I am to be perfectlyhonest, I think this is a wretched state of matters. We are now inabout 80° north latitude, in September we were in 79°; that is, let us say, one degree for five months. If we go on at this ratewe shall be at the Pole in forty-five, or say fifty, months, andin ninety or one hundred months at 80° north latitude on the otherside of it, with probably some prospect of getting out of the iceand home in a month or two more. At best, if things go on as theyare doing now, we shall be home in eight years. I remember Broggerwriting before I left, when I was planting small bushes and trees inthe garden for future generations, that no one knew what length ofshadows these trees would cast by the time I came back. Well, theyare lying under the winter snow now, but in spring they will shootand grow again--how often? Oh! at times this inactivity crushes one'svery soul; one's life seems as dark as the winter night outside;there is sunlight upon no part of it except the past and the far, far distant future. I feel as if I must break through this deadness, this inertia, and find some outlet for my energies. Can't somethinghappen? Could not a hurricane come and tear up this ice, and set itrolling in high waves like the open sea? Welcome danger, if it onlybrings us the chance of fighting for our lives--only lets us moveonward! The miserable thing is to be inactive onlookers, not to beable to lift a hand to help ourselves forward. It wants ten timesmore strength of mind to sit still and trust in your theories and letnature work them out without your being able so much as to lay onestick across another to help, than it does to trust in working themout by your own energy--that is nothing when you have a pair of strongarms. Here I sit, whining like an old woman. Did I not know all thisbefore I started? Things have not gone worse than I expected, but, on the contrary, rather better. Where is now the serene hopefulnessthat spread itself in the daylight and the sun? Where are those proudimaginings now that mounted like young eagles towards the brightness ofthe future? Like broken-winged, wet crows they leave the sunlit sea, and hide themselves in the misty marshes of despondency. Perhaps itwill all come back again with the south wind; but, no--I must go andrummage up one of the old philosophers again. 

"There is a little pressure this evening, and an observation justtaken seems to indicate a drift of 3' south. 

"11 P. M. Pressure in the opening astern. The ice is cracking andsqueezing against the ship, making it shake. 

"Monday, February 19th. Once more it may be said that the night isdarkest just before the dawn. Wind began to blow from the southto-day, and has reached a velocity of 13 feet per second. We didsome ice-boring this morning, and found that the ice to port is 5feet 11-5/8 inches (1. 875 metres) thick, with a layer of about 11/2 inches of snow over it. The ice forward was 6 feet 7 1/2 inches(2. 08 metres) thick, but a couple of inches of this was snow. Thiscannot be called much growth for quite a month, when one thinks thatthe temperature has been down to 58° Fahr. Below zero. 

"Both to-day and yesterday we have seen the mirage of the sun again;to-day it was high above the horizon, and almost seemed to assumea round, disk-like form. Some of the others maintain that they haveseen the upper edge of the sun itself; Peter and Bentzen, that theyhave seen at least half of the disk, and Juell and Hansen declarethat the whole of it was above the horizon. I am afraid it is so longsince they saw it that they have forgotten what it is like. 

"Tuesday, February 20th. Great sun festival to-day without anysun. We felt certain we should see it, but there were clouds on thehorizon. However, we were not going to be cheated out of our festival;we can hold another on the occasion of really seeing it for the firsttime. We began with a grand rifle practice in the morning; then therewas a dinner of three or four courses and 'Fram wine, ' otherwiselime-juice, coffee afterwards with 'Fram cake. ' In the eveningpineapple, cake, figs, bananas, and sweets. We go off to bed feelingthat we have over-eaten ourselves, while half a gale from the S. E. Isblowing us northward. The mill has been going to-day, and though thereal sun did not come to the festival, our saloon sun lighted up ourtable both at dinner and supper. Great face-washing in honor of theday. The way we are laying on flesh is getting serious. Several ofus are like prize pigs, and the bulge of cook Juell's cheeks, notto mention another part of his body, is quite alarming. I saw him inprofile to-day, and wondered how he would ever manage to carry sucha corporation over the ice if we should have to turn out one of thesefine days. Must begin to think of a course of short rations now. 

"Wednesday, February 21st. The south wind continues. Took up thebag-nets to-day which were put out the day before yesterday. In theupper one, which hung near the surface, there were chiefly amphipoda;in Murray's net, which hung at about 50 fathoms' depth, there was avariety of small crustacea and other small animals shining with such astrong phosphorescence that the contents of the net looked like glowingembers as I emptied them out in the cook's galley by lamplight. Tomy astonishment the net-line pointed northwest, though from the windthere ought to be a good northerly drift. To clear this matter up Ilet the net down in the afternoon, and as soon as it got a little wayunder the ice the line pointed northwest again, and continued to doso the whole afternoon. How is this phenomenon to be explained? Canwe, after all, be in a current moving northwest? Let us hope that thefuture will prove such to be the case. We can reckon on two points ofvariation in the compass, and in that case the current would make dueN. N. W. There seems to be strong movement in the ice. It has openedand formed channels in several places. 

"Thursday, February 22d. The net-line has pointed west all day tillnow, afternoon, when it is pointing straight up and down, and weare presumably lying still. The wind slackened to-day till it wasquite calm in the afternoon. Then there came a faint breeze fromthe southwest and from the west, and this evening the long-dreadednorthwester has come at last. At 9 P. M. It is blowing pretty hard fromN. N. W. An observation of Capella taken in the afternoon would seemto show that we are in any case not farther north than 80° 11' andthis after almost four days' south wind. Whatever can be the meaningof this? Is there dead-water under the ice, keeping it from goingeither forward or backward? The ice to starboard cracked yesterday, away beyond the bear-trap. The thickness of the solid floe was 11 1/2feet (3. 45 metres), but, besides this, other ice was packed on to itbelow. Where it was broken across, the floe showed a marked stratifiedformation, recalling the stratification of a glacier. Even the darkerand dirtier strata were there, the color in this case produced by thebrownish-red organisms that inhabit the water, specimens of which Ifound at an earlier date. In several places the strata were bent andbroken, exactly in the same manner as the geological strata forming theearth's crust. This was evidently the result of the horizontal pressurein the ice at the time of packing. It was especially noticeable atone place, near a huge mound formed during the last pressure. Herethe strata looked very much as they are represented in the annexeddrawing. [46]

It was extraordinary too to see how this floe of over three yards inthickness was bent into great waves without breaking. This was clearlydone by pressure, and was specially noticeable, more particularlynear the pressure-ridges, which had forced the floe down so that itsupper surface lay even with the water-line, while at other places itwas a good half-yard above it, in these last cases thrust up by icepressed in below. It all shows how extremely plastic these floes are, in spite of the cold; the temperature of the ice near the surfacemust have been from 4° Fahr. To 22° Fahr. Below zero (-20° to -30°C. ) at the time of these pressures. In many places the bending hadbeen too violent, and the floe had cracked. The cracks were oftencovered with loose ice, so that one could easily enough fall into them, just as in crossing a dangerous glacier. 

"Saturday, February 24th. Observations to-day show us to be in 79°54' north latitude, 132° 57' east longitude. Strange that we shouldhave come so far south when the north or northwest wind only blewfor twenty-four hours. 

"Sunday, February 25th. It looks as if the ice were drifting eastwardnow. Oh! I see pictures of summer and green trees and ripplingstreams. I am reading of valley and mountain life, and I grow sickat heart and enervated. Why dwell on such things just now? It willbe many a long day before we can see all that again. We are goingat the miserable pace of a snail, but not so surely as it goes. Wecarry our house with us; but what we do one day is undone the next. 

"Monday, February 26th. We are drifting northeast. A tremendoussnow-storm is going on. The wind has at times a velocity of over 35feet per second; it is howling in the rigging, whistling over theice, and the snow is drifting so badly that a man might be lost init quite near at hand. We are sitting here listening to the howlingin the chimney and in the ventilators, just as if we were sitting ina house at home in Norway. The wings of the windmill have been goinground at such a rate that you could hardly distinguish them; but wehave had to stop the mill this evening because the accumulators arefull, and we fastened up the wings so that the wind might not destroythem. We have had electric light for almost a week now. 

"This is the strongest wind we have had the whole winter. Ifanything can shake up the ice and drive us north, this must doit. But the barometer is falling too fast; there will be northwind again presently. Hope has been disappointed too often; it isno longer elastic; and the gale makes no great impression on me. Ilook forward to spring and summer, in suspense as to what changethey will bring. But the Arctic night, the dreaded Arctic night, is over, and we have daylight once again. I must say that I see noappearance of the sunken, wasted faces which this night ought to haveproduced; in the clearest daylight and the brightest sunshine I canonly discover plump, comfortable-looking ones. It is curious enough, though, about the light. We used to think it was like real day downhere when the incandescent lamps were burning; but now, coming downfrom the daylight, though they may be all lit, it is like coming into acellar. When the arc lamp has been burning all day, as it has to-day, and is then put out and its place supplied by the incandescent ones, the effect is much the same. 

"Tuesday, February 27th. Drifting E. S. E. My pessimism is justified. Astrong west wind has blown almost all day; the barometer is low, but has begun to rise unsteadily. The temperature is the highest wehave had all winter; to-day's maximum is 15° Fahr. Above zero (-9. 7°C. ). At 8 P. M. The thermometer stood at 7° Fahr. Below zero (-22°C. ). The temperature rises and falls almost exactly conversely withthe barometer. This afternoon's observation places us in about 80°10' north latitude. 

"Wednesday, February 28th. Beautiful weather to-day, almost still, and temperature only about 15° Fahr. To 22° Fahr. Below zero (-26° to-30° 5' C. ). There were clouds in the south, so that not much was tobe seen of the sun; but it is light wonderfully long already. Sverdrupand I went snow-shoeing after dinner--the first time this year that wehave been able to do anything of the kind in the afternoon. We madeattempts to pump yesterday and to-day; there ought to be a littlewater, but the pump would not suck, though we tried both warm waterand salt. Possibly there is water frozen round it, and possibly thereis no water at all. In the engine-room there has been no appearanceof water for more than a month, and none comes into the forehold, especially now that the bow is raised up by the pack-ice; so if thereis any it can only be a little in the hold. This tightening may beattributed chiefly to the frost. 

"The wind has begun to blow again from the S. S. W. This evening, andthe barometer is falling, which ought to mean good wind coming; butthe barometer of hope does not rise above its normal height. I hada bath this evening in a tin tub in the galley; trimmed and clean, one feels more of a human being. 

"Thursday, March 1st. We are lying almost still. Beautiful mildweather, only 2 1/2° Fahr. Below zero (-19° C. ), sky overcast; lightfall of snow, and light wind. We made attempts to sound to-day, havinglengthened our hemp line with a single strand of steel. This brokeoff with the lead. We put on a new lead and the whole line ran out, about 2000 fathoms, without touching bottom, so far as we could makeout. In process of hauling in, the steel line broke again. So theresults are: no bottom, and two sounding-leads, each of 100 pounds'weight, making their way down. Goodness knows if they have reached thebottom yet. I declare I feel inclined to believe that Bentzen is right, and that it is the hole at the earth's axis we are trying to sound. 

"Friday, March 2d. The pups have lived until now in the chart-room, and have done all the mischief there that they could, gnawing thecases of Hansen's instruments, the log-books, etc. They were takenout on deck yesterday for the first time, and to-day they have beenthere all the morning. They are of an inquiring turn of mind, andexamine everything, being specially interested in the interiors ofall the kennels in this new, large town. 

"Sunday, March 4th. The drift is still strong south. There isnorthwesterly wind to-day again, but not quite so much of it. Iexpected we had come a long way south, but yesterday's observationstill showed 79° 54' north latitude. We must have drifted a good waynorth during the last days before this wind came. The weather yesterdayand to-day has been bitter, 35° Fahr. And 36 1/2° Fahr. Below zero(-37° and -38° C. ), with sometimes as much as 35 feet of wind persecond, must be called cool. It is curious that now the northerlywinds bring cold, and the southerly warmth. Earlier in the winter itwas just the opposite. 

"Monday, March 5th. Sverdrup and I have been a long way northeaston snow-shoes. The ice was in good condition for it; the wind hastossed about the snow finely, covering over the pressure-ridge asfar as the scanty supply of material has permitted. 

"Tuesday, March 6th. No drift at all. It has been a bitter day to-day, 47° Fahr. To 50° Fahr. Below zero (-44° to -46° C. ), and wind up to19 feet. This has been a good occasion for getting hands and facefrost-bitten, and one or two have taken advantage of it. Steadynorthwest wind. I am beginning to get indifferent and stolid asfar as the wind is concerned. I photographed Johansen to-day at theanemometer, and during the process his nose was frost-bitten. 

"There has been a general weighing this evening again. These weighingsare considered very interesting performances, and we stand watching insuspense to see whether each man has gained or lost. Most of them havelost a little this time. Can it be because we have stopped drinkingbeer and begun lime-juice? But Juell goes on indefatigably--he hasgained nearly a pound this time. Our doctor generally does very wellin this line too, but to-day it is only 10 ounces. In other ways he isbadly off on board, poor fellow--not a soul will turn ill. In despairhe set up a headache yesterday himself, but he could not make it lastover the night. Of late he has taken to studying the diseases of dogs;perhaps he may find a more profitable practice in this department. 

"Thursday, March 8th. Drifting south. Sverdrup and I had a goodsnow-shoeing trip to-day, to the north and west. The snow was insplendid condition after the winds; you fly along like thistledownbefore a breeze, and can get about everywhere, even over the worstpressure-mounds. The weather was beautiful, temperature only 38°Fahr. Below zero (-39° C. ); but this evening it is quite bitter again, 55° Fahr. (-48. 5° C. ) and from 16 to 26 feet of wind. It is by no meanspleasant work standing up on the windmill, reefing or taking in thesails; it means aching nails, and sometimes frost-bitten cheeks; butit has to be done, and it is done. There is plenty of 'mill-wind' inthe daytime now--this is the third week we have had electric light--butit is wretched that it should be always this north and northwest wind;goodness only knows when it is going to stop. Can there be land northof us? We are drifting badly south. It is hard to keep one's faithalive. There is nothing for it but to wait and see what time will do. 

"After a long rest the ship got a shake this afternoon. I went ondeck. Pressure was going on in an opening just in front of the bow. Wemight almost have expected it just now, as it is new moon; only wehave got out of the way of thinking at all about the spring tides, as they have had so little effect lately. They should of course bespecially strong just now, as the equinox is approaching. 

"Friday, March 9th. The net-line pointed slightly southwest thismorning; but the line attached to a cheese which was only hanginga few fathoms below the ice to thaw faster, seemed to point in theopposite direction. Had we got a southerly current together with thewind now? H'm! in that case something must come of it! Or was it, perhaps, only the tide setting that way?

"Still the same northerly wind; we are steadily bearing south. This, then, is the change I hoped the March equinox would bring! We have beenhaving northerly winds for more than a fortnight. I cannot concealfrom myself any longer that I am beginning to despond. Quietlyand slowly, but mercilessly, one hope after the other is beingcrushed and . . . Have I not a right to be a little despondent? I longunutterably after home, perhaps I am drifting away farther from it, perhaps nearer; but anyhow it is not cheering to see the realizationof one's plans again and again delayed, if not annihilated altogether, in this tedious and monotonously killing way. Nature goes her age-oldround impassively; summer changes into winter; spring vanishes away;autumn comes, and finds us still a mere chaotic whirl of daringprojects and shattered hopes. As the wheel revolves, now the oneand now the other comes to the top--but memory betweenwhiles lightlytouches her ringing silver chords--now loud like a roaring waterfall, now low and soft like far off sweet music. I stand and look out overthis desolate expanse of ice with its plains and heights and valleys, formed by the pressure arising from the shifting tidal currents ofwinter. The sun is now shining over them with his cheering beams. Inthe middle lies the Fram, hemmed in immovably. When, my proud ship, will you float free in the open water again?

 "'Ich schau dich an, und Wehmuth, Schleicht mir in's Herz hinein. '

Over these masses of ice, drifting by paths unknown, a humanpondered and brooded so long that he put a whole people in motionto enable him to force his way in among them--a people who hadplenty of other claims upon their energies. For what purpose allthis to-do? If only the calculations were correct these ice-floeswould be glorious--nay, irresistible auxiliaries. But if there hasbeen an error in the calculation--well, in that case they are notso pleasant to deal with. And how often does a calculation come outcorrect? But were I now free? Why, I should do it all over again, from the same starting-point. One must persevere till one learns tocalculate correctly. 

"I laugh at the scurvy; no sanatorium better than ours. 

"I laugh at the ice; we are living as it were in an impregnable castle. 

"I laugh at the cold; it is nothing. 

"But I do not laugh at the winds; they are everything; they bend tono man's will. 

"But why always worry about the future? Why distress yourself as towhether you are drifting forward or backward? Why not carelessly letthe days glide by like a peacefully flowing river? every now and thenthere will come a rapid that will quicken the lazy flow. Ah! whata wondrous contrivance is life--one eternal hurrying forward, everforward--to what end? And then comes death and cuts all short beforethe goal is reached. 

"I went a long snow-shoe tour to-day. A little way to the north therewere a good many newly formed lanes and pressure-ridges which werehard to cross, but patience overcomes everything, and I soon reacheda level plain where it was delightful going. It was, however, rathercold, about 54° Fahr. Below zero (-48° C. ) and 16 feet of wind fromN. N. E. , but I did not feel it much. It is wholesome and enjoyableto be out in such weather. I wore only ordinary clothes, such as Imight wear at home, with a sealskin jacket and linen outside breeches, and a half-mask to protect the forehead, nose, and cheeks. 

"There has been a good deal of ice-pressure in different directionsto-day. Oddly enough, a meridian altitude of the sun gave 79° 45'. Wehave therefore drifted only 8' southward during the four days sinceMarch 4th. This slow drift is remarkable in spite of the high winds. Ifthere should be land to the north? I begin more and more to speculateon this possibility. Land to the north would explain at once our notprogressing northward, and the slowness of our southward drift. Butit may also possibly arise from the fact of the ice being so closelypacked together, and frozen so thick and massive. It seems strangeto me that there is so much northwest wind, and hardly any from thenortheast, though the latter is what the rotation of the earth wouldlead one to expect. As a matter of fact, the wind merely shiftsbetween northwest and southeast, instead of between southwest andnortheast, as it ought to do. Unless there is land I am at a loss tofind a satisfactory explanation, at all events, of this northwestdirection. Does Franz Josef Land jut out eastward or northward, ordoes a continuous line of islands extend from Franz Josef Land in oneor other of those directions? It is by no means impossible. Directlythe Austrians got far enough to the north they met with prevailingwinds from the northeast, while we get northwesterly winds. Does thecentral point of these masses of land lie to the north, midway betweenour meridian and theirs? I can hardly believe that these remarkablycold winds from the north are engendered by merely passing over anice-covered sea. If, indeed, there is land, and we get hold of it, then all our troubles would be over. But no one can tell what thefuture may bring forth, and it is better, perhaps, not to know. 

"Saturday, March 10th. The line shows a drift northward; now, too, in the afternoon, a slight southerly breeze has sprung up. As usual, it has done me good to put my despondency on paper and get rid ofit. To-day I am in good spirits again, and can indulge in happy dreamsof a large and high land in the north with mountains and valleys, where we can sit under the mountain wall, roast ourselves in the sun, and see the spring come. And over its inland ice we can make our wayto the very Pole. 

"Sunday, March 11th. A snow-shoe run northward. Temperature -50°C. (58° Fahr. Below zero), and 10 feet wind from N. N. E. We did notfeel the cold very much, though it was rather bad for the stomachand thighs, as none of us had our wind trousers [47] on. We woreour usual dress of a pair of ordinary trousers and woollen pants, a shirt, and wolfskin cloak, or a common woollen suit with a lightsealskin jacket over it. For the first time in my life I felt mythighs frozen, especially just over the knee, and on the kneecap; mycompanions also suffered in the same way. This was after going a longwhile against the wind. We rubbed our legs a little, and they soongot warm again; but had we kept on much longer without noticing it weshould probably have been severely frost-bitten. In other respects wedid not suffer the least inconvenience from the cold--on the contrary, found the temperature agreeable; and I am convinced that 10°, 20°, or even 30° lower would not have been unendurable. It is strange howone's sensations alter. When at home, I find it unpleasant if I onlygo out-of-doors when there are some 20 degrees of cold, even in calmweather. But here I don't find it any colder when I turn out in 50degrees of cold, with a wind into the bargain. Sitting in a warmroom at home one gets exaggerated ideas about the terribleness ofthe cold. It is really not in the least terrible; we all of us findourselves very well in it, though sometimes one or another of us doesnot take quite so long a walk as usual when a strong wind is blowing, and will even turn back for the cold; but that is when he is onlylightly clad and has no wind clothes on. This evening it is 51. 2°Fahr. Below zero, and 14 1/2 feet N. N. E. Wind. Brilliant northernlights in the south. Already there is a very marked twilight evenat midnight. 

"Monday, March 12th. Slowly drifting southward. Took a long snow-shoerun alone, towards the north; to-day had on my wind breeches, but foundthem almost too warm. This morning it was 51. 6° Fahr. Below zero, andabout 13 feet N. Wind; at noon it was some degrees warmer. Ugh! thisnorth wind is freshening; the barometer has risen again, and I hadthought the wind would have changed, but it is and remains the same. 

"This is what March brings us--the month on which my hopes relied. NowI must wait for the summer. Soon the half-year will be past, itwill leave us about in the same place as when-it began. Ugh! I amweary--so weary! Let me sleep, sleep! Come, sleep! noiselessly closethe door of the soul, stay the flowing stream of thought! Come dreams, and let the sun beam over the snowless strand of Godthaab!

"Wednesday, March 14th. In the evening the dogs all at once began tobark, as we supposed on account of bears. Sverdrup and I took our guns, let 'Ulenka' and 'Pan' loose, and set off. There was twilight still, and the moon, moreover, began to shine. No sooner were the dogs onthe ice than off they started westward like a couple of rockets, we after them as quickly as we could. As I was jumping over a laneI thrust one leg through the ice up to the knee. Oddly enough, Idid not get wet through to the skin, though I only had Finn shoesand frieze gaiters on; but in this temperature, 38° Fahr. Belowzero (-39° C. ), the water freezes on the cold cloth before it canpenetrate it. I felt nothing of it afterwards; it became, as it were, a plate of ice armor that almost helped to keep me warm. At a channelsome distance off we at last discovered that it was not a bear thedogs had winded, but either a walrus or a seal. We saw holes inseveral places on the fresh-formed ice where it had stuck its headthrough. What a wonderfully keen nose those dogs must have: it wasquite two-thirds of a mile from the ship, and the creature had onlyhad just a little bit of its snout above the ice. We returned to theship to get a harpoon, but saw no more of the animal, though we wentseveral times up and down the channel. Meanwhile 'Pan, ' in his zeal, got too near the edge of the lane and fell into the water. The icewas so high that he could not get up on it again without help, andif I had not been there to haul him up I am afraid he would have beendrowned. He is now lying in the saloon, and making himself comfortableand drying himself. But he, too, did not get wet through to the skin, though he was a good time in the water: the inner hair of his close, coarse coat is quite dry and warm. The dogs look on it as a high treatto come in here, for they are not often allowed to do so. They go roundall the cabins and look out for a comfortable corner to lie down in. 

"Lovely weather, almost calm, sparklingly bright, and moonshine:in the north the faint flush of evening, and the aurora over thesouthern sky, now like a row of flaming spears, then changing intoa silvery veil, undulating in wavy folds with the wind, every hereand there interspersed with red sprays. These wonderful night effectsare ever new, and never fail to captivate the soul. "

"Thursday, March 15th. This morning 41. 7°, and at 8 P. M. 40. 7°Fahr. Below zero, while the daytime was rather warmer. At noon itwas 40. 5° and at 4 P. M. 39° Fahr. Below zero. It would almost seemas if the sun began to have power. 

"The dogs are strange creatures. This evening they are probablysweltering in their kennels again, for four or five of them arelying outside or on the roof. When there are 50 degrees of cold mostof them huddle together inside, and lie as close to one another aspossible. Then, too, they are very loath to go out for a walk; theyprefer to lie in the sun under the lee of the ship. But now they findit so mild and such pleasant walking that to-day it was not difficultto get them to follow. 

"Friday, March 16th. Sverdrup has of late been occupied in making sailsfor the ship's boats. To-day there was a light southwesterly breeze, so we tried one of the sails on two hand-sledges lashed together. Itis first-rate sailing, and does not require much wind to make themglide along. This would be a great assistance if we had to go homeover the ice. 

"Wednesday, March 21st. At length a reaction has set in: the wind isS. E. And there is a strong drift northward again. The equinox is past, and we are not one degree farther north since the last equinox. Iwonder where the next will find us. Should it be more to the south, then victory is uncertain; if more to the north, the battle is won, though it may last long. I am looking forward to the summer; it mustbring a change with it. The open water we sailed in up here cannotpossibly be produced by the melting of the ice alone; it must bealso due to the winds and current. And if the ice in which we are nowdrifts so far to the north as to make room for all this open water, we shall have covered a good bit on our way. It would seem, indeed, as if summer must bring northerly winds, with the cold Arctic Seain the north and warm Siberia in the south. This makes me somewhatdubious; but, on the other hand, we have warm seas in the west:they may be stronger; and the Jeannette, moreover, drifted northwest. 

"It is strange that, notwithstanding these westerly winds, we do notdrift eastward. The last longitude was only 135° east longitude. 

"Maundy Thursday, March 22d. A strong southeasterly wind still, anda good drift northward. Our spirits are rising. The wind whistlesthrough the rigging overhead, and sounds like the sough of victorythrough the air. In the forenoon one of the puppies had a severeattack of convulsions; it foamed at the mouth and bit furiously ateverything round it. It ended with tetanus, and we carried it outand laid it down on the ice. It hopped about like a toad, its legsstiff and extended, neck and head pointing upward, while its backwas curved like a saddle. I was afraid it might be hydrophobia orsome other infectious sickness, and shot it on the spot. Perhaps Iwas rather too hasty; we can scarcely have any infection among usnow. But what could it have been? Was it an epileptic attack? Theother day one of the other puppies alarmed me by running round andround in the chart-house as if it were mad, hiding itself aftera time between a chest and the wall. Some of the others, too, hadseen it do the same thing; but after a while it got all right again, and for the last few days there has been nothing amiss with it. 

"Good Friday, March 23d. Noonday observation gives 80° northlatitude. In four days and nights we have drifted as far north aswe drifted southward in three weeks. It is a comfort, at all events, to know that!

"It is remarkable how quickly the nights have grown light. Even starsof the first magnitude can now barely manage to twinkle in the palesky at midnight. 

"Saturday, March 24th. Easter Eve. To-day a notable eventhas occurred. We have allowed the light of spring to enter thesaloon. During the whole of the winter the skylight was covered withsnow to keep the cold out, and the dogs' kennels, moreover, had beenplaced round it. Now we have thrown out all the snow upon the ice, andthe panes of glass in the skylight have been duly cleared and cleaned. 

"Monday, March 26th. We are lying motionless--no drift. How long willthis last? Last equinox how proud and triumphant I was! The wholeworld looked bright; but now I am proud no longer. 

"The sun mounts up and bathes the ice-plain with its radiance. Springis coming, but brings no joys with it. Here it is as lonely and coldas ever. One's soul freezes. Seven more years of such life--or sayonly four--how will the soul appear then? And she. . . ? If I dared tolet my longings loose--to let my soul thaw. Ah! I long more than Idare confess. 

"I have not courage to think of the future. . . . And how will it be athome, when year after year rolls by and no one comes?

"I know this is all a morbid mood; but still this inactive, lifelessmonotony, without any change, wrings one's very soul. No struggle, no possibility of struggle! All is so still and dead, so stiff andshrunken, under the mantle of ice. Ah! . . . The very soul freezes. Whatwould I not give for a single day of struggle--for even a momentof danger!

"Still I must wait, and watch the drift; but should it take a wrongdirection, then I will break all the bridges behind me, and stakeeverything on a northward march over the ice. I know nothing betterto do. It will be a hazardous journey--a matter, maybe, of life ordeath. But have I any other choice?

"It is unworthy of a man to set himself a task, and then give in whenthe brunt of the battle is upon him. There is but one way, and thatis Fram--forward. 

"Tuesday, March 27th. We are again drifting southward, and the wind isnortherly. The midday observation showed 80° 4' north latitude. Butwhy so dispirited? I am staring myself blind at one single point--amthinking solely of reaching the Pole and forcing our way through tothe Atlantic Ocean. And all the time our real task is to explorethe unknown polar regions. Are we doing nothing in the service ofscience? It will be a goodly collection of observations that weshall take home with us from this region, with which we are nowrather too well acquainted. The rest is, and remains, a mere matterof vanity. 'Love truth more, and victory less. '

"I look at Eilif Peterssen's picture, a Norwegian pine forest, and Iam there in spirit. How marvellously lovely it is there now, in thespring, in the dim, melancholy stillness that reigns among the statelystems! I can feel the damp moss in which my foot sinks softly andnoiselessly; the brook, released from the winter bondage, is murmuringthrough the clefts and among the rocks, with its brownish-yellow water;the air is full of the scent of moss and pine-needles; while overhead, against the light-blue sky, the dark pine-tops rock to and fro inthe spring breeze, ever uttering their murmuring wail, and beneaththeir shelter the soul fearlessly expands its wings and cools itselfin the forest dew. 

"O solemn pine forest, the only confidant of my childhood, it was fromyou I learned nature's deepest tones--its wildness, its melancholy! Youcolored my soul for life. 

"Alone--far in the forest--beside the glowing embers of my fire onthe shore of the silent, murky woodland tarn, with the gloom of nightoverhead, how happy I used to be in the enjoyment of nature's harmony!

"Thursday, March 29th. It is wonderful what a change it makes to havedaylight once more in the saloon. On turning out for breakfast andseeing the light gleaming in, one feels that it really is morning. 

"We are busy on board. Sails are being made for the boats andhand-sledges. The windmill, too, is to have fresh sails, so that it cango in any kind of weather. Ah, if we could but give the Fram wings aswell! Knives are being forged, bear-spears which we never have any usefor, bear-traps in which we never catch a bear, axes, and many otherthings of like usefulness. For the moment there is a great manufactureof wooden shoes going on, and a newly started nail-making industry. Theonly shareholders in this company are Sverdrup and Smith Lars, called'Storm King, ' because he always comes upon us like hard weather. Theoutput is excellent and is in active demand, as all our small nailsfor the hand-sledge fittings have been used. Moreover, we are very busyputting German-silver plates under the runners of the hand-sledges, andproviding appliances for lashing sledges together. There is, moreover, a workshop for snow-shoe fastenings, and a tinsmith's shop, busiedfor the moment with repairs to the lamps. Our doctor, too, for lackof patients, has set up a bookbinding establishment which is greatlypatronized by the Fram's library, whereof several books that are inconstant circulation, such as Gjest Baardsens Liv og Levnet, etc. , are in a very bad state. We have also a saddlers' and sail-makers'workshop, a photographic studio, etc. The manufacture of diaries, however, is the most extensive--every man on board works at that. Infine, there is nothing between heaven and earth that we cannot turnout--excepting constant fair winds. 

"Our workshops can be highly recommended; they turn out good solidwork. We have lately had a notable addition to our industries, the firm'Nansen & Amundsen' having established a music-factory. The cardboardplates of the organ had suffered greatly from wear and damp, so thatwe had been deplorably short of music during the winter. But yesterdayI set to work in earnest to manufacture a plate of zinc. It answersadmirably, and now we shall go ahead with music sacred and profane, especially waltzes, and these halls shall once more resound with thepealing tones of the organ, to our great comfort and edification. Whena waltz is struck up it breathes fresh life into many of the inmatesof the Fram. 

"I complain of the wearing monotony of our surroundings; but in realityI am unjust. The last few days, dazzling sunshine over the snow-hills;to-day, snow-storm and wind, the Fram enveloped in a whirl of foamingwhite snow. Soon the sun appears again, and the waste around gleamsas before. 

"Here, too, there is sentiment in nature. How often, when leastthinking of it, do I find myself pause, spell-bound by the marvelloushues which evening wears. The ice-hills steeped in bluish-violetshadows, against the orange-tinted sky, illumined by the glow ofthe setting sun, form as it were a strange color-poem, imprinting anineffaceable picture on the soul. And these bright, dream-like nights, how many associations they have for us Northmen! One pictures to one'sself those mornings in spring when one went out into the forest afterblackcock, under the dim stars, and with the pale crescent moon peeringover the tree-tops. Dawn, with its glowing hues up here in the north, is the breaking of a spring day over the forest wilds at home; thehazy blue vapor beneath the morning glow turns to the fresh earlymist over the marshes; the dark low clouds on a background of dimred seem like distant ranges of hills. 

"Daylight here, with its rigid, lifeless whiteness, has no attractions;but the evening and night thaw the heart of this world of ice;it dreams mournful dreams, and you seem to hear in the hues of theevening sounds of its smothered wail. Soon these will cease, and thesun will circle round the everlasting light-blue expanse of heaven, imparting one uniform color to day and night alike. 

"Friday, April 6th. A remarkable event was to take place to-day which, naturally, we all looked forward to with lively interest. It was aneclipse of the sun. During the night Hansen had made a calculation thatthe eclipse would begin at 12. 56 o'clock. It was important for us to beable to get a good observation, as we should thus be able to regulateour chronometers to a nicety. In order to make everything sure, weset up our instruments a couple of hours beforehand, and commenced toobserve. We used the large telescope and our large theodolite. Hansen, Johansen, and myself took it by turns to sit for five minutes each atthe instruments, watching the rim of the sun, as we expected a shadowwould become visible on its lower western edge, while another stoodby with the watch. We remained thus full two hours without anythingoccurring. The exciting moment was now at hand, when, according tocalculation, the shadow should first be apparent. Hansen was sittingby the large telescope when he thought he could discern a quiveringin the sun's rim; 33 seconds afterwards he cried out, 'Now!' as didJohansen simultaneously. The watch was then at 12 hrs. 56 min. 7. 5sec. A dark body advanced over the border of the sun 7 1/2 secondslater than we had calculated on. It was an immense satisfaction for usall, especially for Hansen, for it proved our chronometers to be inexcellent order. Little by little the sunlight sensibly faded away, while we went below to dinner. At 2 o'clock the eclipse was at itsheight, and we could notice even down in the saloon how the daylighthad diminished. After dinner we observed the moment when the eclipseended, and the moon's dark disk cleared the rim of the sun. 

"Sunday, April 8th. I was lying awake yesterday morning thinking aboutgetting up, when all at once I heard the hurried footsteps of some onerunning over the half-deck above me, and then another followed. Therewas something in those footsteps that involuntarily made me think ofbears, and I had a hazy sort of an idea that I ought to jump up outof bed, but I lay still, listening for the report of a gun. I heardnothing, however, and soon fell a-dreaming again. Presently Johansencame tearing down into the saloon, crying out that a couple of bearswere lying half or quite dead on the large ice hummock astern of theship. He and Mogstad had shot at them, but they had no more cartridgesleft. Several of the men seized hold of their guns and hurried up. Ithrew on my clothes and came up a little after, when I gatheredthat the bears had taken to flight, as I could see the other fellowsfollowing them over the ice. As I was putting on my snow-shoes theyreturned, and said that the bears had made off. However, I startedafter them as fast as my snow-shoes would take me across the floesand the pressure-ridges. I soon got on their tracks, which at firstwere a little blood-stained. It was a she-bear, with her cub, and, as I believed, hard hit--the she-bear had fallen down several timesafter Johansen's first bullet. I thought, therefore, it would beno difficult matter to overtake them. Several of the dogs were onahead of me on their tracks. They had taken a northwesterly course, and I toiled on, perspiring profusely in the sun, while the ship sankdeeper and deeper down below the horizon. The surface of the snow, sparkling with its eternal whiteness all around me, tried my eyesseverely, and I seemed to get no nearer the bears. My prospects ofcoming up with them were ruined by the dogs, who were keen enough tofrighten the bears, but not so keen as to press on and bring them tobay. I would not, however, give up. Presently a fog came on and hideverything from view except the bear-tracks, which steadily pointedforward; then it lifted, and the sun shone out again clear and brightas before. The Fram's masts had long since disappeared over the edgeof the ice, but still I kept on. Presently, however, I began to feelfaint and hungry, for in my hurry I had not even had my breakfast, and at last had to bite the sour apple and turn back without any bears. 

"On my way I came across a remarkable hummock. It was over 20 feetin height (I could not manage to measure it quite to the top); themiddle part had fallen in, probably from pressure of the ice, whilethe remaining part formed a magnificent triumphal arch of the whitestmarble, on which the sun glittered with all its brilliancy. Was iterected to celebrate my defeat? I got up on it to look out for theFram, but had to go some distance yet before I could see her riggingover the horizon. It was not till half-past five in the afternoon thatI found myself on board again, worn out and famished from this suddenand unexpected excursion. After a day's fasting I heartily relished agood meal. During my absence some of the others had started after mewith a sledge to draw home the dead bears that I had shot; but theyhad barely reached the spot where the encounter had taken place, whenJohansen and Blessing, who were in advance of the others, saw two freshbears spring up from behind a hummock a little way off. But before theycould get their guns in readiness the bears were out of range; so a newhunt began. Johansen tore after them in his snow-shoes, but severalof the dogs got in front of him and kept the bears going, so that hecould not get within range, and his chase ended as fruitlessly as mine. 

"Has good-luck abandoned us? I had plumed myself on our never havingshot at a single bear without bagging it; but to-day. . . ! Odd thatwe should get a visit from four bears on one day, after having seennothing of them for three months! Does it signify something? Have wegot near the land in the northwest which I have so long expected? Thereseems to be change in the air. An observation the day before yesterdaygave 80° 15' north latitude, the most northerly we have had yet. 

"Sunday, April 15th. So we are in the middle of April! What a ring ofjoy in that word, a well-spring of happiness! Visions of spring riseup in the soul at its very mention--a time when doors and windows arethrown wide open to the spring air and sun, and the dust of winteris blown away; a time when one can no longer sit still, but mustperforce go out-of-doors to inhale the perfume of wood and fieldand fresh-dug earth, and behold the fjord, free from ice, sparklingin the sunlight. What an inexhaustible fund of the awakening joys ofnature does that word April contain! But here--here that is not to befound. True, the sun shines long and bright, but its beams fall not onforest or mountain or meadow, but only on the dazzling whiteness of thefresh-fallen snow. Scarcely does it entice one out from one's winterretreat. This is not the time of revolutions here. If they come at all, they will come much later. The days roll on uniformly and monotonously;here I sit, and feel no touch of the restless longings of the spring, and shut myself up in the snail-shell of my studies. Day after dayI dive down into the world of the microscope, forgetful of time andsurroundings. Now and then, indeed, I may make a little excursionfrom darkness to light--the daylight beams around me, and my soulopens a tiny loophole for light and courage to enter in--and thendown, down into the darkness, and to work once more. Before turningin for the night I must go on deck. A little while ago the daylightwould by this time have vanished, a few solitary stars would havebeen faintly twinkling, while the pale moon shone over the ice. Butnow even this has come to an end. The sun no longer sinks beneaththe icy horizon; it is continual day. I gaze into the far distance, far over the barren plain of snow, a boundless, silent, and lifelessmass of ice in imperceptible motion. No sound can be heard save thefaint murmur of the air through the rigging, or perhaps far away thelow rumble of packing ice. In the midst of this empty waste of whitethere is but one little dark spot, and that is the Fram. 

"But beneath this crust, hundreds of fathoms down, there teems aworld of checkered life in all its changing forms, a world of thesame composition as ours, with the same instincts, the same sorrows, and also, no doubt, the same joys; everywhere the same struggle forexistence. So it ever is. If we penetrate within even the hardest shellwe come upon the pulsations of life, however thick the crust may be. 

"I seem to be sitting here in solitude listening to the music ofone of Nature's mighty harp-strings. Her grand symphonies peal forththrough the endless ages of the universe, now in the tumultuous whirlof busy life, now in the stiffening coldness of death, as in Chopin'sFuneral March; and we--we are the minute, invisible vibrations ofthe strings in this mighty music of the universe, ever changing, yet ever the same. Its notes are worlds; one vibrates for a longer, another for a shorter period, and all in turn give way to new ones. . . . 

"The world that shall be!. . . Again and again this thought comes backto my mind. I gaze far on through the ages. . . . 

"Slowly and imperceptibly the heat of the sun declines, and thetemperature of the earth sinks by equally slow degrees. Thousands, hundreds of thousands, millions of years pass away, glacial epochscome and go, but the heat still grows ever less; little by littlethese drifting masses of ice extend far and wide, ever towards moresouthern shores, and no one notices it; but at last all the seas ofearth become one unbroken mass of ice. Life has vanished from itssurface, and is to be found in the ocean depths alone. 

"But the temperature continues to fall, the ice grows thicker and everthicker; life's domain vanishes. Millions of years roll on, and theice reaches the bottom. The last trace of life has disappeared; theearth is covered with snow. All that we lived for is no longer; thefruit of all our toil and sufferings has been blotted out millions andmillions of years ago, buried beneath a pall of snow. A stiffened, lifeless mass of ice, this earth rolls on in her path througheternity. Like a faintly growing disk the sun crosses the sky; themoon shines no more, and is scarcely visible. Yet still, perhaps, the northern lights flicker over the desert, icy plain, and still thestars twinkle in silence, peacefully as of yore. Some have burnt out, but new ones usurp their place; and round them revolve new spheres, teeming with new life, new sufferings, without any aim. Such is theinfinite cycle of eternity; such are nature's everlasting rhythms. 

"Monday, April 30th. Drifting northward. Yesterday observationsgave 80° 42', and to-day 80° 44 1/2'. The wind steady from the southand southeast. 

"It is lovely spring weather. One feels that spring-time must havecome, though the thermometer denies it. 'Spring cleaning' has begunon board; the snow and ice along the Fram's sides are cleared away, and she stands out like the crags from their winter covering deckedwith the flowers of spring. The snow lying on the deck is little bylittle shovelled overboard; her rigging rises up against the clearsky clean and dark, and the gilt trucks at her mastheads sparklein the sun. We go and bathe ourselves in the broiling sun along herwarm sides, where the thermometer is actually above freezing-point, smoke a peaceful pipe, gazing at the white spring clouds that lightlyfleet across the blue expanse. Some of us perhaps think of spring-timeyonder at home, when the birch-trees are bursting into leaf. "

CHAPTER VII

THE SPRING AND SUMMER OF 1894

So came the season which we at home call spring, the season ofjoy and budding life, when Nature awakens after her long wintersleep. But there it brought no change; day after day we had togaze over the same white lifeless mass, the same white boundlessice-plains. Still we wavered between despondency, idle longing, andeager energy, shifting with the winds as we drift forward to our goalor are driven back from it. As before, I continued to brood upon thepossibilities of the future and of our drift. One day I would thinkthat everything was going on as we hoped and anticipated. Thus onApril 17th I was convinced that there must be a current through theunknown polar basin, as we were unmistakably drifting northward. Themidday observation gave 80° 20' northeast; that is, 9' since the daybefore yesterday. Strange! A north wind of four whole days took usto the south, while twenty-four hours of this scanty wind driftsus 9' northward. This is remarkable; it looks as if we were donewith drifting southward. And when, in addition to this, I take intoconsideration the striking warmth of the water deep down, it seemsto me that things are really looking brighter. The reasoning runs asfollows: The temperature of the water in the East Greenland current, even on the surface, is nowhere over zero (the mean temperature forthe year), and appears generally to be -1° C. (30. 2° Fahr. ), even in70° north latitude. In this latitude the temperature steadily fallsas you get below the surface; nowhere at a greater depth than 100fathoms is it above -1° C. , and generally from -1. 5° (29. 3° Fahr. ) to-1. 7° C. (28. 94° Fahr. ) right to the bottom. Moreover, the bottomtemperature of the whole sea north of the 60th degree of latitude isunder -1° C. , a strip along the Norwegian coast and between Norway andSpitzbergen alone excepted, but here the temperature is over -1° C. , from 86 fathoms (160 metres) downward, and 135 fathoms (250 metres)the temperature is already +0. 55° C. (32. 99° Fahr. ), and that, too, be it remarked, north of the 80th degree of latitude, and in a seasurrounding the pole of maximum cold. 

This warm water can hardly come from the Arctic Sea itself, while thecurrent issuing thence towards the south has a general temperatureof about -1. 5° C. It can hardly be anything other than the GulfStream that finds its way hither, and replaces the water which in itsupper layers flows towards the north, forming the sources of the EastGreenland polar current. All this seems to chime in with my previousassumptions, and supports the theory on which this expedition wasplanned. And when, in addition to this, one bears in mind that thewinds seem, as anticipated, to be as a rule southeasterly, as was, moreover, the case at the international station at Sagastyr (by theLena mouth), our prospects do not appear to be unfavorable. 

Frequently, moreover, I thought I could detect unmistakable symptomsof a steadily flowing northwesterly current under the ice, and then, ofcourse, my spirits rose; but at other times, when the drift again boresouthward--and that was often--my doubts would return, and it seemedas if there was no prospect of getting through within any reasonabletime. Truly such drifting in the ice is extremely trying to the mind;but there is one virtue it fosters, and that is patience. The wholeexpedition was in reality one long course of training in this usefulvirtue. 

Our progress as the spring advanced grew somewhat better than ithad been during the winter, but on the whole it was always the samesort of crab-like locomotion; for each time we made a long stretchto the north, a longer period of reaction was sure to follow. It was, in the opinion of one of our number, who was somewhat of a politician, a constant struggle between the Left and Right, between Progressionistsand Recessionists. After a period of Left wind and a glorious driftnorthward, as a matter of course the "Radical Right" took the helm, and we remained lying in dead-water or drifted backward, therebyputting Amundsen into a very bad temper. It was a remarkable factthat during the whole time the Fram's bow turned towards the south, generally S. 1/4 W. , and shifted but very little during the wholedrift. As I say on May 14th: "She went backward towards her goal inthe north, with her nose ever turned to the south. It is as though sheshrank from increasing her distance from the world; as though she werelonging for southern shores, while some invisible power is drawingher on towards the unknown. Can it be an ill omen, this backwardadvance towards the interior of the Polar Sea? I cannot think it;even the crab ultimately reaches its goal. "

A statement of our latitude and longitude on different days will bestindicate the general course of our drift:

May 1st, 80° 46' N. Lat. ; May 4th, 80° 50'; May 6th, 80° 49'; May8th, 80° 55' N. Lat. , 129° 58' E. Long. ; May 12th, 80° 52' N. Lat. ;May 15th, 129° 20' E. Long. ; May 21st, 81° 20' N. Lat. , 125° 45'E. Long. ; May 23d, 81° 26' N. Lat. ; May 27th, 81° 31'; June 2d, 81°31' N. Lat. , 121° 47' E. Long. ; June 13th, 81° 46'; June 18th, 81°52'. Up to this we had made fairly satisfactory progress towardsthe north, but now came the reaction: June 24th, 81° 42'; July 1st, 81° 33'; July 10th, 81° 20'; July 14th, 81° 32'; July 18th, 81° 26';July 31st, 81° 2' N. Lat. , 126° 5' 5'' E. Long. ; August 8th, 81° 8';August 14th, 81° 5' N. Lat. , 127° 38' E. Long. ; August 26th, 81° 1';September 5th, 81° 14' N. Lat. , 123° 36' E. Long. 

After this we began once more to drift northward, but not very fast. 

As before, we were constantly on the look-out for land, and wereinclined, first from one thing, then from another, to think we sawsigns of its proximity; but they always turned out to be imaginary, and the great depth of the sea, moreover, showed that, at all events, land could not be near. 

Later on--August 7th--when I had found over 2085 fathoms (3850 metres)depth, I say in my diary: "I do not think we shall talk any more aboutthe shallow Polar Sea, where land may be expected anywhere. We mayvery possibly drift out into the Atlantic Ocean without having seena single mountain-top. An eventful series of years to look forward to!"

The plan already alluded to of travelling over the ice withdogs and sledges occupied me a good deal, and during my dailyexpeditions--partly on snow-shoes, partly with dogs--my attentionwas constantly given to the condition of the ice and our prospectsof being able to make our way over it. During April it was speciallywell adapted for using dogs. The surface was good, as the sun's powerhad made it smoother than the heavy drift-snow earlier in the winter;besides, the wind had covered the pressure-ridges pretty evenly, and there were not many crevasses or channels in the ice, so thatone could proceed for miles without much trouble from them. In May, however, a change set in. So early as May 8th the wind had broken upthe ice a good deal, and now there were lanes in all directions, whichproved a great obstacle when I went out driving with the dogs. Thetemperature, however, was still so low that the channels were quicklyfrozen over again and became passable; but later on in the month thetemperature rose, so that ice was no longer so readily formed on thewater, and the channels became ever more and more numerous. 

On May 20th I write: "Went out on snow-shoes in the forenoon. Theice has been very much broken up in various directions, owing tothe continual winds during the last week. The lanes are difficultto cross over, as they are full of small pieces of ice, that liedispersed about, and are partly covered with drift-snow. This is verydeceptive, for one may seem to have firm ice under one at places where, on sticking one's staff in, it goes right down without any sign ofice. " On many occasions I nearly got into trouble in crossing oversnow like this on snow-shoes. I would suddenly find that the snowwas giving way under me, and would manage with no little difficultyto get safely back on to the firm ice. 

On June 5th the ice and the snow surface were about as before. Iwrite: "Have just been out on a snow-shoe excursion with Sverdrupin a southerly direction, the first for a long while. The conditionof the ice has altered, but not for the better; the surface, indeed, is hard and good, but the pressure-ridges are very awkward, and thereare crevasses and hummocks in all directions. A sledge expeditionwould make poor enough progress on such ice as this. "

Hitherto, however, progress had always been possible, but now thesnow began to melt, and placed almost insuperable difficulties in theway. On June 13th I write: "The ice gets softer and softer every day, and large pools of water are formed on the floes all around us. Inshort, the surface is abominable. The snow-shoes break through into thewater everywhere. Truly one would not be able to get far in a day nowshould one be obliged to set off towards the south or west. It is as ifevery outlet were blocked, and here we stick--we stick. Sometimes itstrikes me as rather remarkable that none of our fellows have becomealarmed, even when we are bearing farther and farther northward, farther and farther into the unknown; but there is no sign of fear inany one of them. All look gloomy when we are bearing south or too muchto the west, and all are beaming with joy when we are drifting to thenorthward, the farther the better. Yet none of them can be blind to thefact that it is a matter of life and death if anything of what nearlyevery one prophesied should now occur. Should the ship be crushed inthis ice and go to the bottom, like the Jeannette, without our beingable to save sufficient supplies to continue our drift on the ice, weshould have to turn our course to the south, and then there would belittle doubt as to our fate. The Jeannette people fared badly enough, but their ship went down in 77° north latitude, while the nearest landto us is many times more than double the distance it was in theircase, to say nothing of the nearest inhabited land. We are now morethan 70 miles from Cape Chelyuskin, while from there to any inhabitedregion we are a long way farther. But the Fram will not be crushed, and nobody believes in the possibility of such an event. We are likethe kayak-rower, who knows well enough that one faulty stroke of hispaddle is enough to capsize him and send him into eternity; but nonethe less he goes on his way serenely, for he knows that he will notmake a faulty stroke. This is absolutely the most comfortable wayof undertaking a polar expedition; what possible journey, indeed, could be more comfortable? Not even a railway journey, for then youhave the bother of changing carriages. Still a change now and thenwould be no bad thing. "

Later on--in July--the surface was even worse. The floes wereeverywhere covered with slush, with water underneath, and on thepressure-ridges and between the hummocks where the snow-drifts weredeep one would often sink in up to the middle, not even the snow-shoesbearing one up in this soft snow. Later on in July matters improved, the snow having gradually melted away, so that there was a firmersurface of ice to go on. 

But large pools of water now formed on the ice-floes. Already onthe 8th and 9th of June such a pool had begun to appear round theship, so that she lay in a little lake of fresh water, and we wereobliged to make use of a bridge in order to reach a dry spot on theice. Some of these fresh-water pools were of respectable dimensionsand depth. There was one of these on the starboard side of the ship, so large that in the middle of July we could row and sail on it withthe boats. This was a favorite evening amusement with some of us, and the boat was fully officered with captain, mate; and second mate, but had no common sailors. They thought it an excellent opportunityof practising sailing with a square sail; while the rest of ourfellows, standing on the icy shore, found it still more divertingto bombard the navigators with snowballs and lumps of ice. It wasin this same pool that we tried one day if one of our boats couldcarry all thirteen of us at once. When the dogs saw us all leave theship to go to the pool, they followed us in utter bewilderment as towhat this unusual movement could mean; but when we got into the boatthey, all of them, set to work and howled in wild despair; thinking, probably, that they would never see us again. Some of them swam afterus, while two cunning ones, "Pan" and "Kvik, " conceived the brilliantidea of galloping round the pool to the opposite side to meet us. Afew days afterwards I was dismayed to find the pool dried up; a holehad been worn through the ice at the bottom, and all the fresh waterhad drained out into the sea. So that amusement came to an end. 

In the summer, when we wanted to make an excursion over the ice, inaddition to such pools we met with lanes in the ice in all directions;but as a rule could easily cross them by jumping from one loose floeto another, or leaping right across at narrow places. 

These lanes never attained any great width, and there was consequentlyno question of getting the Fram afloat in any of them; and even couldwe have done so, it would have been of very little avail, as none ofthem was large enough to have taken her more than a few cable-lengthsfarther north. Sometimes there were indications in the sky that theremust be large stretches of open water in our vicinity, and we couldnow and then see from the crow's-nest large spaces of clear water inthe horizon; but they could not have been large enough to be of muchuse when it came to a question of pushing forward with a ship. 

Sanguine folk on board, however, attached more importance to suchopen stretches. June 15th I wrote in my diary: "There are severallanes visible in different directions, but none of them is wide orof any great extent. The mate, however, is always insisting that weshall certainly get open water before autumn, and be able to creepalong northward, while with the rest, Sverdrup excepted, it seemsto be a generally accepted belief. Where they are to get their openwater from I do not know. For the rest, this is the first ice-boundexpedition that has not spent the summer spying after open water, andsighing and longing for the ice to disperse. I only wish it may keeptogether, and hurry up and drift northward. Everything in this lifedepends on what one has made up one's mind to. One person sets forthto sail in open water, perhaps to the very Pole, but gets stuck inthe ice and laments; another is prepared to get stuck in the ice, butwill not grumble even should he find open water. It is ever the safestplan to expect the least of life, for then one often gets the most. "

The open spaces, the lanes, and the rifts in the ice are, of course, produced, like the pressure and packing, by the shifting winds andthe tidal currents that set the ice drifting first in one direction, then in another. And they best prove, perhaps, how the surface ofthe Polar Sea must be considered as one continuous mass of ice-floesin constant motion, now frozen together, now torn apart, or crushedagainst each other. 

During the whole of our drift I paid great attention to this ice, not only with respect to its motion, but to its formation and growthas well. In the Introduction of this book I have pointed out that, even should the ice pass year after year in the cold Polar Sea, itcould not by mere freezing attain more than a certain thickness. Frommeasurements that were constantly being made, it appeared that the icewhich was formed during the autumn in October or November continuedto increase in size during the whole of the winter and out into thespring, but more slowly the thicker it became. On April 10th it wasabout 2. 31 metres; April 21st, 2. 41 metres; May 5th, 2. 45 metres;May 31st, 2. 52 metres; June 9th, 2. 58 metres. It was thus continuallyincreasing in bulk, notwithstanding that the snow now melted quicklyon the surface, and large pools of fresh water were formed on thefloes. On June 20th the thickness was the same, although the melting onthe surface had now increased considerably. On July 4th the thicknesswas 2. 57 metres. On July 10th I was amazed to find that the ice hadincreased to 2. 76 metres, notwithstanding that it would now diminishseveral centimetres daily from surface melting. I bored in many places, but found it everywhere the same--a thin, somewhat loose ice mass layunder the old floe. I first thought it was a thin ice-floe that hadgot pushed under, but subsequently discovered that it was actuallya new formation of fresh-water ice on the lower side of the old ice, due to the layer of fresh water of about 9 feet 9 inches (3 metres)in depth, formed by the melting of the snow on the ice. Owing toits lightness this warm fresh water floated on the salt sea-water, which was at a temperature of about -1. 5° C. On its surface. Thusby contact with the colder sea-water the fresh water became cooler, and so a thick crust of ice was formed on the fresh water, where itcame in contact with the salt water lying underneath it. It was thisice crust, then, that augmented the thickness of the ice on its underside. Later on in the summer, however, the ice diminished somewhat, owing to melting on the surface. On July 23d the old ice was only2. 33 metres, and with the newly formed layer 2. 49 metres. On August10th the thickness of the old ice had decreased to 1. 94 metres, and together the aggregate thickness to 3. 17 metres. On August22d the old ice was 1. 86 metres, and the aggregate thickness 3. 06metres. On September 3d the aggregate thickness was 2. 02 metres, and on September 30th 1. 98 metres. On October 3d it was the same;the thickness of the old ice was then 1. 75 metres. On October 12ththe aggregate thickness was 2. 08 metres, while the old ice was 1. 8metres. On November 10th it was still about the same, with only aslight tendency to increase. Further on, in November and in December, it increased quite slowly. On December 11th the aggregate thicknessreached 2. 11 metres. On January 3d, 1895, 2. 32 metres; January 10th, 2. 48 metres; February 6th, 2. 59 metres. Hence it will be seen thatthe ice does not attain any enormous thickness by direct freezing. Thepacking caused by pressure can, however, produce blocks and floes ofa very different size. It often happens that the floes get shoved inunder each other in several layers, and are frozen together so as toappear like one originally continuous mass of ice. Thus the Fram hadgot a good bed under her. 

Juell and Peter had often disputed together during the winter as to thethickness of ice the Fram had under her. Peter, who had seen a gooddeal of the ice before, maintained that it must at least be 20 feetthick, while Juell would not believe it, and betted 20 kroner that itwas not as thick as that. On April 19th this dispute again broke out, and I say of it in my diary: "Juell has undertaken to make a bore, butunfortunately our borer reaches no farther than 16 feet down. Peter, however, has undertaken to cut away the 4 feet that are lacking. Therehas been a lot of talk about this wager during the whole winter, but they could never agree about it. Peter says that Juell shouldbegin to bore, while Juell maintains that Peter ought to cut the4 feet first. This evening it ended in Juell incautiously offering10 kroner to any one who would bore. Bentzen took him at his word, and immediately set to work at it with Amundsen; he thought one didnot always have the chance of earning 10 kroner so easily. Amundsenoffered him a kroner an hour, or else payment per foot; and timepayment was finally agreed to. They worked till late on into the night, and when they had got down 12 feet the borer slipped a little way, andwater rose in the hole, but this did not come to much, and presentlythe borer struck on ice again. They went on for some time, but nowthe borer would reach no farther, and Peter had to be called up tocut his four feet. He and Amundsen worked away at cutting till theywere dripping with perspiration. Amundsen, as usual, was very eager, and vowed he would not give in till he had got through it, even if itwere 30 feet thick. Meanwhile Bentzen had turned in, but a message wassent to him to say that the hole was cut, and that boring could nowbegin again. When it was only an inch or an inch and a half short of20 feet the borer slipped through, and the water spurted up and filledthe hole. They now sank a lead-line down it, and at 30 feet it againbrought up against ice. Now they were obliged to give it up. A finelump of ice we are lying on! Not taking into account a large, looseice-floe that is lying packed up on the ice, it is 16 inches abovethe water; and adding to this the 2 feet which the Fram is raised upabove the ice, there is no small distance between her and the water. "

The temperature on the ice in summer is about thawing-point, butgradually as the winter cold comes on, it, of course, falls rapidlyon the surface, whence the cold slowly penetrates deeper and deeperdown towards the lower surface, where it naturally keeps at an eventemperature with the underlying water. Observations of the temperatureof the ice in its different layers were constantly taken in order toascertain how quickly this cooling-down process of the ice took placeduring the winter, and also how the temperature rose again towardsspring. The lowest temperature of the ice occurred in March and thebeginning of April, when at 1. 2 metres it was about 3. 2° Fahr. (-16°C), and at 0. 8 metre about 22° Fahr. Below zero (-30° C). After thebeginning of April it began to rise slowly. 

At these low temperatures the ice became very hard and brittle, and wasreadily cracked or broken up by a blow or by packing. In the summer, on the other hand, when its temperature was near melting-point, theice became tough and plastic, and was not so readily broken up underpacking. This difference between the condition of the ice in summerand winter was apparent also to the ear, as the ice-packing in winterwas always accompanied by the frequently mentioned loud noises, while the packing of the tough summer ice was almost noiseless, so that the most violent convulsions might take place close to uswithout our noticing them. 

In the immediate vicinity of the Fram the ice remained perfectly atrest the whole year through, and she was not at this time exposed toany great amount of pressure; she lay safe and secure on the ice-floeto which she was firmly frozen; and gradually, as the surface of theice thawed under the summer sun, she rose up higher and higher. Inthe autumn she again began to sink a little, either because the icegave way under her weight, or because it melted somewhat on the undersurface, so that it no longer had so much buoyancy as before. 

Meanwhile, life on board went on in its usual way. Now that we haddaylight, there was of course more work of various descriptions on theice than had been the case during the winter. I have already alludedmore than once to our unsuccessful endeavors to reach the bottom bysounding. Unfortunately we were not prepared for such great depths, and had not brought any deep-sea sounding apparatus with us. Wehad, therefore, to do the best we could under the circumstances, and that was to sacrifice one of the ship's steel cables in orderto make a lead-line. It was not difficult to find sufficient spaceon the ice for a rope-walk, and although a temperature of from 22°Fahr. Below zero (-30° C. ) to 40° Fahr. Below zero (-40° C. ) is notthe pleasantest in which to manipulate such things as steel wire, yet for all that the work went on well. The cable was unlaid intoits separate strands, and a fresh, pliant lead-line manufactured bytwisting two of these strands together. In this way we made a line ofbetween 4000 and 5000 metres (2150 to 2700 fathoms) long, and couldnow at last reach the bottom. The depth proved to range between 3300and 3900 metres (1800 to 2100 fathoms). 

This was a remarkable discovery, for, as I have frequently mentioned, the unknown polar basin has always been supposed to be shallow, with numerous unknown lands and islands. I, too, had assumed it to beshallow when I sketched out my plan (see page 24), and had thought itwas traversed by a deep channel which might possibly be a continuationof the deep channel in the North Atlantic (see page 28). 

From this assumption of a shallow Polar Sea it was concludedthat the regions about the Pole had formerly been covered with anextensive tract of land, of which the existing islands are simply theremains. This extensive tract of polar land was furthermore assumed tohave been the nursery of many of our animal and plant forms, whencethey had found their way to lower latitudes. These conjectures nowappear to rest on a somewhat infirm basis. 

This great depth indicates that here, at all events, there has notbeen land in any very recent geological period; and this depth is, no doubt, as old as the depth of the Atlantic Ocean, of which it isalmost certainly a part. 

Another task to which I attached great importance, and to which I havefrequently alluded, was the observation of the temperature of thesea at different depths, from the surface down to the bottom. Theseobservations we took as often as time permitted, and, as alreadymentioned, they gave some surprising results, showing the existenceof warmer water below the cold surface stratum. This is not the placeto give the results of the different measurements, but as they areall very similar I will instance one of them in order that an ideamay be formed how the temperature is distributed. 

This series of temperatures, of which an extract is given here, was taken from the 13th to the 17th of August. 

 TABLE OF TEMPERATURES

 Depths Temperature Degrees Metres Fathoms Centigrade Fahrenheit

 Surface . . . +1. 02 33. 83 2 1 -1. 32 29. 62 20 10 -1. 33 29. 61 40 21 -1. 50 29. 3 60 32 -1. 50 29. 3 80 43 -1. 50 29. 3 100 54 -1. 40 29. 48 120 65 -1. 24 29. 77 140 76 -0. 97 30. 254 160 87 -0. 58 30. 96 180 98 -0. 31 31. 44 200 109 -0. 03 31. 95 220 120 +0. 19 32. 34 240 131 +0. 20 32. 36 260 142 +0. 34 32. 61 280 153 +0. 42 32. 76 300 164 +0. 34 32. 61 350 191 +0. 44 32. 79 400 218 +0. 35 32. 63 450 273 +0. 34 32. 61 600 328 +0. 26 32. 47 700 382 +0. 14 32. 25 800 437 +0. 07 32. 126 900 492 -0. 04 31. 928 1000 546 -0. 10 31. 82 1200 656 -0. 28 31. 496 1400 765 -0. 34 31. 39 1600 874 -0. 46 31. 17 1800 984 -0. 60 30. 92 2000 1093 -0. 66 30. 81 2600 1421 -0. 74 30. 67 2900 1585 -0. 76 30. 63 3000 1640 -0. 73 30. 76 3700 2023 -0. 65 30. 83 3800 2077 -0. 64 30. 85 325 177 +0. 49 32. 88 +0. 85 33. 53 +0. 76 33. 37 +0. 78 33. 40 +0. 62 33. 12

These temperatures of the water are in many respects remarkable. Inthe first place, the temperature falls, as will be seen, from thesurface downward to a depth of 80 metres, after which it rises to 280metres, falls again at 300 metres, then rises again at 326 metres, where it was +0. 49°; then falls to rise again at 450 metres, thenfalls steadily down to 2000 metres, to rise once more slowly at thebottom. Similar risings and fallings were to be found in almost allthe series of temperatures taken, and the variations from one monthto another were so small that at the respective depths they oftenmerely amounted to the two-hundredth part of a degree. Occasionallythe temperature of the warm strata mounted even higher than mentionedhere. Thus on October 17th at 300 metres it was +0. 85°, at 350 metres+0. 76°, at 400 metres +0. 78°, and at 500 metres +0. 62°, after whichit sank evenly, until, towards the bottom, it again rose as before. 

We had not expected to meet with much bird life in these desolateregions. Our surprise, therefore, was not small when on Whitsunday, May 13th, a gull paid us a visit. After that date we regularly sawbirds of different kinds in our vicinity till at last it became adaily occurrence, to which we did not pay any particular attention. Forthe most part they were ice mews (Larus eburneus), kittiwakes (Rissatridactyla), fulmars (Procellaria glacialis), and now and then ablue gull (L. Glaucus), a herring gull (L. Argentatus?), or a blackguillemot (Uria grylle); once or twice we also saw a skua (probablyLestris parasitica)--for instance, on July 14th. On July 21st we hada visit from a snow-bunting. 

On August 3d a remarkable occurrence took place: we were visited by theArctic rose gull (Rhodostethia rosea). I wrote as follows about it inmy diary: "To-day my longing has at last been satisfied. I have shotRoss's gull, " [48] three specimens in one day. This rare and mysteriousinhabitant of the unknown north, which is only occasionally seen, and of which no one knows whence it cometh or whither it goeth, whichbelongs exclusively to the world to which the imagination aspires, is what, from the first moment I saw these tracts, I had always hopedto discover, as my eyes roamed over the lonely plains of ice. Andnow it came when I was least thinking of it. I was out for a littlewalk on the ice by the ship, and as I was sitting down by a hummockmy eyes wandered northward and lit on a bird hovering over the greatpressure-mound away to the northwest. At first I took it to be akittiwake, but soon discovered it rather resembled the skua by itsswift flight, sharp wings, and pointed tail. When I had got my gun, there were two of them together flying round and round the ship. Inow got a closer view of them, and discovered that they were toolight colored to be skuas. They were by no means shy, but continuedflying about close to the ship. On going after them on the ice I soonshot one of them, and was not a little surprised, on picking it up, to find it was a little bird about the size of a snipe; the mottledback, too, reminded me also of that bird. Soon after this I shot theother. Later in the day there came another, which was also shot. Onpicking this one up I found it was not quite dead, and it vomited upa couple of large shrimps, which it must have caught in some channelor other. All three were young birds, about 12 inches in length, with dark mottled gray plumage on the back and wings; the breast andunder side white, with a scarcely perceptible tinge of orange-red, and round the neck a dark ring sprinkled with gray. " At a somewhatlater age this mottled plumage disappears; they then become blue onthe back, with a black ring round the neck, while the breast assumesa delicate pink hue. Some few days afterwards (August 6th and 8th)some more of these birds were shot, making eight specimens in all. 

While time was passing on, the plan I had been revolving in my mindduring the winter was ever uppermost in my thoughts--the plan, thatis to say, of exploring the unknown sea apart from the track in whichthe Fram was drifting. I kept an anxious eye upon the dogs, for fearanything should happen to them, and also to see that they continuedin good condition, for all my hopes centred in them. Several of them, indeed, had been bitten to death, and two had been killed by bears;but there were still twenty-six remaining, and as a set-off againstour losses we had the puppies, eight of which had been permittedto live. As spring advanced they were allowed to roam the deck, but on May 5th their world was considerably extended. I wrote thus:"In the afternoon we let the puppies loose on the ice, and 'Kvik'at once took long expeditions with them to familiarize them withtheir surroundings. First she introduced them to our meteorologicalapparatus, then to the bear-trap, and after that to differentpressure-mounds. They were very cautious at first, staring timidlyall around, and venturing out very slowly, a step at a time, fromthe ship's side; but soon they began to run riot in their newlydiscovered world. 

"'Kvik' was very proud to conduct her litter out into the world, and roamed about in the highest of spirits, though she had onlyjust returned from a long driving expedition, in which, as usual, she had done good work in harness. In the afternoon one of the blackand white puppies had an attack of madness. It ran round the ship, barking furiously; the others set on it, and it bit at everythingthat came in its way. At last we got it shut in on the deck forward, where it was furious for a while, then quieted down, and now seemsto be all right again. This makes the fourth that has had a similarattack. What can it possibly be? It cannot be hydrophobia, or itwould have appeared among the grown-up dogs. Can it be toothache, orhereditary epilepsy--or some other infernal thing?" Unfortunately, several of them died from these strange attacks. The puppies weresuch fine, nice animals, that we were all very sorry when a thinglike this occurred. 

On June 3d I write: "Another of the puppies died in the forenoonfrom one of those mysterious attacks, and I cannot conceal frommyself that I take it greatly to heart, and feel low-spiritedabout it, I have been so used to these small polar creatures livingtheir sorrowless life on deck, romping and playing around us frommorning to evening, and a little of the night as well. I can watchthem with pleasure by the hour together, or play with them as withlittle children--have a game at hide-and-seek with them round theskylight, the while they are beside themselves with glee. It is thelargest and strongest of the lot that has just died, a handsome dog;I called him 'Löva' (Lion). He was such a confiding, gentle animal, and so affectionate. Only yesterday he was jumping and playing aboutand rubbing himself against me, and to-day he is dead. Our ranks arethinning, and the worst of it is we try in vain to make out what it isthat ails them. This one was apparently quite in his normal conditionand as cheerful as ever until his breakfast was given him; then hebegan to cry and tear round, yelping and barking as if distracted, just as the others had done. After this convulsions set in, and thefroth poured from his mouth. One of these convulsions no doubt carriedhim off. Blessing and I held a post mortem upon him in the afternoon, but we could discover no signs of anything unusual. It does not seemto be an infectious ailment. I cannot understand it. 

"'Ulenka, ' too, the handsomest dog in the whole pack, our consolationand our hope, suddenly became ill the other day. It was the morningof May 24th that we found it paralyzed and quite helpless, lyingin its cask on deck. It kept trying to get up, but couldn't, andimmediately fell down again--just like a man who has had a strokeand has lost all power over his limbs. It was at once put to bed ina box and nursed most carefully; except for being unable to walk, it is apparently quite well. " It must have been a kind of apoplecticseizure that attacked the spinal cord in some spot or other, andparalyzed one side of the body. The dog recovered slowly, but nevergot the complete use of its legs again. It accompanied us, however, on our subsequent sledge expedition. 

The dogs did not seem to like the summer, it was so wet on the ice, and so warm. On June 11th I write: "To-day the pools on the ice allround us have increased wonderfully in size, and it is by no meansagreeable to go off the ship with shoes that are not water-tight; itis wetter and wetter for the dogs in the daytime, and they sweat moreand more from the heat, though it as yet only rarely rises above zero(C. ). A few days ago they were shifted on to the ice, where two longkennels were set up for them. " [49] They were made out of boxes, andreally consist of only a wall and a roof. Here they spend the greaterpart of the twenty-four hours, and we are now rid of all uncleanlinesson board, except for the four puppies which still remain, and lead aglorious life of it up there between sleep and play. "Ulenka" is stillon deck, and is slowly recovering. There is the same daily routinefor the dogs as in the winter. We let them loose in the morning abouthalf-past eight, and as the time for their release draws near theybegin to get very impatient. Every time any one shows himself on decka wild chorus of howls issues from twenty-six throats, clamoring forfood and freedom. 

After being let loose they get their breakfast, consisting of halfa dried fish or three biscuits apiece. The rest of the forenoon isspent in rooting round among all the refuse heaps they can find; andthey gnaw and lick all the empty tin cases which they have ransackedhundreds of times before. If the cook sends a fresh tin dancing alongthe ice a battle immediately rages around the prize. It often happensthat one or another of them, trying to get at a tempting piece of fatat the bottom of a deep, narrow tin, sticks his head so far down intoit that the tin sits fast, and he cannot release himself again; so withthis extinguisher on his head he sprawls about blindly over the ice, indulging in the most wonderful antics in the effort to get rid of it, to the great amusement of us the spectators. When tired of their workat the rubbish heaps they stretch out their round, sausage-like bodies, panting in the sun, if there is any, and if it is too warm they getinto the shade. They are tied up again before dinner; but "Pan, " andothers like-minded, sneak away a little before that time, and hide upbehind a hummock, so that one can only see a head or an ear stickingup here and there. Should any one go to fetch him in he will probablygrowl, show his teeth, or even snap; after which he will lie flat down, and allow himself to be dragged off to prison. The remainder of thetwenty-four hours they spend sleeping, puffing and panting in theexcessive heat, which, by-the-way, is two degrees of cold. Every nowand then they set up a chorus of howls that certainly must be heardin Siberia, and quarrel among themselves till the fur flies in alldirections. This removal of the dogs on to the ice has imposed uponthe watch the arduous duty of remaining on deck at nights, which wasnot the practice before. But a bear having once been on board and takenoff two of our precious animals, we don't want any more such visitors. 

"On July 31st 'Kvik' again increased our population by bringing elevenpuppies into the world, one of which was deformed, and was at oncekilled; two others died later, but most of them grew up and becamefine, handsome animals. They are still living. 

"Few or no incidents occurred during this time, except, naturally, the different red-letter days were celebrated with great ceremony. "

May 17th [50] we observed with special pomp, the following descriptionof which I find in my journal:

"Friday, May 18th. May 17th was celebrated yesterday with all possiblefestivity. In the morning we were awakened with organ music--theenlivening strains of the 'College Hornpipe. ' After this a splendidbreakfast off smoked salmon, ox tongues, etc. , etc. The whole ship'scompany wore bows of ribbon in honor of the day--even old 'Suggen' hadone round his tail. The wind whistled, and the Norwegian flag floatedon high, fluttering bravely at the mast-head. About 11 o'clock thecompany assembled with their banners on the ice on the port side ofthe ship, and the procession arranged itself in order. First of allcame the leader of the expedition with the 'pure' Norwegian flag;[51] after him Sverdrup with the Fram's pennant, which, with its'FRAM' on a red ground, 3 fathoms long, looked splendid. Next came adog-sledge, with the band (Johansen with the accordion), and Mogstad, as coach-man; after them came the mate with rifles and harpoons, Henriksen carrying a long harpoon; then Amundsen and Nordahl, with a red banner. The doctor followed, with a demonstration flagin favor of a normal working-day. It consisted of a woollen jersey, with the letters 'N. A. ' [52] embroidered on the breast, and at thetop of a very long pole it looked most impressive. After him followedour chef, Juell, with 'peik's' [53] saucepan on his back; and thencame the meteorologists, with a curious apparatus, consisting of alarge tin scutcheon, across which was fastened a red band, with theletters 'Al. St. , ' signifying 'almindelig stemmeret, ' or 'universalsuffrage. ' [54]

"At last the procession began to move on. The dogs marched demurely, as if they had never done anything else in all their lives than walkin procession, and the band played a magnificent festive march, not composed for the occasion. The stately cortège marched twiceround the Fram, after which with great solemnity it moved off in thedirection of the large hummock, and was photographed on the way bythe photographer of the expedition. At the hummock a hearty cheer wasgiven for the Fram, which had brought us hither so well, and whichwould, doubtless, take us equally well home again. After this theprocession turned back, cutting across the Fram's bow. At the portgangway a halt was called, and the photographer, mounting the bridge, made a speech in honor of the day. This was succeeded by a thunderingsalute, consisting of six shots, the result of which was that fiveor six of the dogs rushed off over hummocks and pressure-ridges, and hid themselves for several hours. Meanwhile we went down into thecozy cabin, decorated with flags for the occasion in a right festivemanner, where we partook of a splendid dinner, preluded by a lovelywaltz. The menu was as follows: Minced fish with curried lobster, melted butter, and potatoes; music; pork cutlets, with green pease, potatoes, mango chutney, and Worcester sauce; music; apricots andcustard, with cream; much music. After this a siesta; then coffee, currants, figs, cakes; and the photographer stood cigars. Greatenthusiasm, then more siesta. After supper the violinist, Mogstad, gave a recital, when refreshments were served in the shape of figs, sweetmeats, apricots, and gingerbread (honey cakes). On the whole, acharming and very successful Seventeenth of May, especially consideringthat we had passed the 81st degree of latitude. 

"Monday, May 28th. Ugh! I am tired of these endless, whiteplains--cannot even be bothered snow-shoeing over them, not to mentionthat the lanes stop one on every hand. Day and night I pace up anddown the deck, along the ice by the ship's sides, revolving the mostelaborate scientific problems. For the past few days it is especiallythe shifting of the Pole that has fascinated me. I am beset by theidea that the tidal wave, along with the unequal distribution ofland and sea, must have a disturbing effect on the situation of theearth's axis. When such an idea gets into one's head, it is no easymatter to get it out again. After pondering over it for several days, I have finally discovered that the influence of the moon on the seamust be sufficient to cause a shifting of the Pole to the extent of oneminute in 800, 000 years. In order to account for the European GlacialAge, which was my main object, I must shift the Pole at least ten ortwenty degrees. This leaves an uncomfortably wide interval of timesince that period, and shows that the human race must have attaineda respectable age. Of course, it is all nonsense. But while I amindefatigably tramping the deck in a brown study, imagining myselfno end of a great thinker, I suddenly discover that my thoughtsare at home, where all is summer and loveliness, and those I haveleft are busy building castles in the air for the day when I shallreturn. Yes, yes. I spend rather too much time on this sort of thing;but the drift goes as slowly as ever, and the wind, the all-powerfulwind, is still the same. The first thing my eyes look for when I setfoot on deck in the morning is the weathercock on the mizzen-top, to see how the wind lies; thither they are forever straying duringthe whole day, and there again they rest the last thing before I turnin. But it ever points in the same direction, west and southwest, and we drift now quicker, now more slowly westward, and only a littleto the north. I have no doubt now about the success of the expedition, and my miscalculation was not so great, after all; but I scarcely thinkwe shall drift higher than 85°, even if we do that. It will depend onhow far Franz Josef Land extends to the north. In that case it willbe hard to give up reaching the Pole; it is in reality a mere matterof vanity, merely child's play, in comparison with what we are doingand hoping to do; and yet I must confess that I am foolish enough towant to take in the Pole while I am about it, and shall probably havea try at it if we get into its neighborhood within any reasonable time. 

"This is a mild May; the temperature has been about zero several timesof late, and one can walk up and down and almost imagine one's selfat home. There is seldom more than a few degrees of cold; but thesummer fogs are beginning, with occasional hoar-frost. As a rule, however, the sky, with its light, fleeting clouds, is almost like aspring sky in the south. 

"We notice, too, that it has become milder on board; we no longer needto light a fire in the stove to make ourselves warm and cozy; though, indeed, we have never indulged in much luxury in this respect. In thestore-room the rime frost and ice that had settled on the ceilingand walls are beginning to melt; and in the compartments astern ofthe saloon, and in the hold, we have been obliged to set about agrand cleaning-up, scraping off and sweeping away the ice and rime, to save our provisions from taking harm, through the damp penetratingthe wrappings and rusting holes in the tin cases. We have, moreover, for a long time kept the hatchways in the hold open, so that therehas been a thorough draught through it, and a good deal of the rimehas evaporated. It is remarkable how little damp we have on board. Nodoubt this is due to the Fram's solid construction, and to the deckover the hold being panelled on the under side. I am getting fonderand fonder of this ship. 

"Saturday, June 9th. Our politician, Amundsen, is celebrating theday with a white shirt and collar. [55] To-day I have moved with mywork up into the deck-house again, where I can sit and look out ofthe window in the daytime, and feel that I am living in the worldand not in a cavern, where one must have lamplight night and day. Iintend remaining here as long as possible out into the winter: it isso cozy and quiet, and the monotonous surroundings are not constantlyforcing themselves in upon me. 

"I really have the feeling that summer has come. I can pace up anddown the deck by the hour together with the sun, or stand still androast myself in it, while I smoke a pipe, and my eyes glide overthe confused masses of snow and ice. The snow is everywhere wet now, and pools are beginning to form every here and there. The ice too isgetting more and more permeated with salt-water; if one bores ever sosmall a hole in it, it is at once filled with water. The reason, ofcourse, is that, owing to the rise in the temperature, the particlesof salt contained in the ice begin to melt their surroundings, andmore and more water is formed with a good admixture of salt in it, so that its freezing-point is lower than the temperature of the icearound it. This, too, had risen materially; at about 4 feet depth itis only 25. 2° Fahr. (-3. 8° C), at 5 feet it is somewhat warmer again, 26. 5° Fahr. (-3. 1° C). 

"Sunday, June 10th. Oddly enough we have had no cases of snow-blindnesson board, with the exception of the doctor, who, a couple of daysago, after we had been playing at ball, got a touch of it in theevening. The tears poured from his eyes for some time, but he soonrecovered. Rather a humiliating trick of fate that he should be thefirst to suffer from this ailment. " Subsequently we had a few isolatedcases of slight snow-blindness, so that one or two of our men had to goabout with dark spectacles; but it was of little importance and was dueto their not thinking it worth while to take the necessary precautions. 

"Monday, June 11th. To-day I made a joyful discovery. I thought Ihad begun my last bundle of cigars, and calculated that by smokingone a day they would last a month, but found quite unexpectedlya whole box in my locker. Great rejoicing! it will help to whileaway a few more months, and where shall we be then? Poor fellow, you are really at a low ebb! 'To while away time'--that is an ideathat has scarcely ever entered your head before. It has always beenyour great trouble that time flew away so fast, and now it cannotgo fast enough to please you. And then so addicted to tobacco--youwrap yourself in clouds of smoke to indulge in your everlastingday dreams. Hark to the south wind, how it whistles in the rigging;it is quite inspiriting to listen to it. On Midsummer-eve we ought, of course, to have had a bonfire as usual, but from my diary it doesnot seem to have been the sort of weather for it. 

"Saturday, June 23, 1894. 

 "'Mid the shady vales and the leafy trees, How sweet the approach of the summer breeze! When the mountain slopes in the sunlight gleam, And the eve of St. John comes in like a dream. 

The north wind continues with sleet. Gloomy weather. Driftingsouth. 81° 43' north latitude; that is, 9' southward since Monday. 

"I have seen many Midsummer-eves under different skies, but neversuch a one as this. So far, far from all that one associates with thisevening. I think of the merriment round the bonfires at home, hear thescraping of the fiddle, the peals of laughter, and the salvoes of theguns, with the echoes answering from the purple-tinted heights. Andthen I look out over this boundless, white expanse into the fogand sleet and the driving wind. Here is truly no trace of midsummermerriment. It is a gloomy lookout altogether! Midsummer is past--andnow the days are shortening again, and the long night of winterapproaching, which, maybe, will find us as far advanced as it left us. 

"I was busily engaged with my examination of the salinity of thesea-water this afternoon when Mogstad stuck his head in at the doorand said that a bear must be prowling about in the neighborhood. Onreturning after dinner to their work at the great hummock, where theywere busy making an ice-cellar for fresh meat, [56] the men foundbear-tracks which were not there before. I put on my snow-shoesand went after it. But what terrible going it had been the lastfew days! Soft slush, in which the snow-shoes sink helplessly. Thebear had come from the west right up to the Fram, had stopped andinspected the work that was going on, had then retreated a little, made a considerable detour, and set off eastward at its easy, shamblinggait, without deigning to pay any further attention to such a trifleas a ship. It had rummaged about in every hole and corner where thereseemed to be any chance of finding food, and had rooted in the snowafter anything the dogs had left, or whatever else it might be. Ithad then gone to the lanes in the ice, and skirted them carefully, no doubt in the hope of finding a seal or two, and after that it hadgone off between the hummocks and over floes, with a surface of nothingbut slush and water. Had the surface been good I should no doubt haveovertaken Master Bruin, but he had too long a start in the slushy snow. 

"A dismal, dispiriting landscape--nothing but white and gray, No shadows--merely half-obliterated forms melting into the fog andslush. Everything is in a state of disintegration, and one's footholdgives way at every step. It is hard work for the poor snow-shoer whostamps along through the slush and fog after bear-tracks that wind inand out among the hummocks, or over them. The snow-shoes sink deep in, and the water often reaches up to the ankles, so that it is hard workto get them up or to force them forward; but without them one wouldbe still worse off. 

"Every here and there this monotonous grayish whiteness is brokenby the coal-black water, which winds, in narrower or broader lanes, in between the high hummocks. White, snow-laden floes and lumps ofice float on the dark surface, looking like white marble on a blackground. Occasionally there is a larger dark-colored pool, where thewind gets a hold of the water and forms small waves that ripple andplash against the edge of the ice, the only signs of life in thisdesert tract. It is like an old friend, the sound of these playfulwave-lets. And here, too, they eat away the floes and hollow outtheir edges. One could almost imagine one's self in more southernlatitudes. But all around is wreathed with ice, towering aloft inits ever-varying fantastic forms, in striking contrast to the darkwater on which a moment before the eye had rested. Everlastingly isthis shifting ice modelling, as it were, in pure, gray marble, and, with nature's lavish prodigality, strewing around the most gloriousstatuary, which perishes without any eye having seen it. Wherefore? Towhat end all this shifting pageant of loveliness? It is governed bythe mere caprices of nature, following out those everlasting lawsthat pay no heed to what we regard as aims and objects. 

"In front of me towers one pressure-ridge after another, with laneafter lane between. It was in June the Jeannette was crushed and sank;what if the Fram were to meet her fate here? No, the ice will notget the better of her. Yet, if it should, in spite of everything! AsI stood gazing around me I remembered it was Midsummer-eve. Faraway yonder her masts pointed aloft, half lost to view in the snowyhaze. They must, indeed, have stout hearts, those fellows on boardthat craft. Stout hearts, or else blind faith in a man's word. 

"It is all very well that he who has hatched a plan, be it never sowild, should go with it to carry it out; he naturally does his bestfor the child to which his thoughts have given birth. But they--theyhad no child to tend, and could, without feeling any yearning balked, have refrained from taking part in an expedition like this. Why shouldany human being renounce life to be wiped out here?

"Sunday, June 24th. The anniversary of our departure fromhome. Northerly wind; still drifting south. Observations to-day gave81° 41' 7'' north latitude, so we are not going at a breakneck speed. 

"It has been a long year--a great deal has been gone through init--though we are quite as far advanced as I had anticipated. Iam sitting, and look out of the window at the snow whirlinground in eddies as it is swept along by the north wind. A strangeMidsummer-day! One might think we had had enough of snow and ice; Iam not, however, exactly pining after green fields--at all events, not always. On the contrary, I find myself sitting by the hourlaying plans for other voyages into the ice after our return fromthis one. . . . Yes, I know what I have attained, and, more or less, what awaits me. It is all very well for me to sketch plans for thefuture. But those at home. . . . No, I am not in a humor for writingthis evening; I will turn in. 

"Wednesday, July 11th. Lat. 81° 18' 8''. At last the southerly windhas returned, so there is an end of drifting south for the present. 

"Now I am almost longing for the polar night, for the everlastingwonderland of the stars with the spectral northern lights, and themoon sailing through the profound silence. It is like a dream, like aglimpse into the realms of fantasy. There are no forms, no cumbrousreality--only a vision woven of silver and violet ether, rising upfrom earth and floating out into infinity. . . . But this eternal day, with its oppressive actuality, interests me no longer--does not enticeme out of my lair. Life is one incessant hurrying from one task toanother; everything must be done and nothing neglected, day after day, week after week; and the working-day is long, seldom ending till farover midnight. But through it all runs the same sensation of longingand emptiness, which must not be noted. Ah, but at times there is noholding it aloof, and the hands sink down without will or strength--soweary, so unutterably weary. 

"Ah! life's peace is said to be found by holy men in the desert. Here, indeed, there is desert enough; but peace--of that I know nothing. Isuppose it is the holiness that is lacking. 

"Wednesday, July 18th. Went on excursion with Blessing in the forenoonto collect specimens of the brown snow and ice, and gather seaweedand diatoms in the water. The upper surface of the floes is nearlyeverywhere of a dirty brown color, or, at least, this sort of icepreponderates, while pure white floes, without any traces of a dirtybrown on their surface, are rare. I imagined this brown color mustbe due to the organisms I found in the newly-frozen, brownish-redice last autumn (October); but the specimens I took to-day consist, for the most part, of mineral dust mingled with diatoms and otheringredients of organic origin. [57]

"Blessing collected several specimens on the upper surface of the iceearlier in the summer, and came to the same conclusions. I must lookfurther into this, in order to see whether all this brown dust is ofa mineral nature, and consequently originates from the land. [58] Wefound in the lanes quantities of algæ like those we had often foundpreviously. There were large accumulations of them in nearly everylittle channel. We could also see that a brown surface layer spreaditself on the sides of the floes far down into the water. This is dueto an alga that grows on the ice. There were also floating in the watera number of small viscid lumps, some white, some of a yellowish redcolor; and of these I collected several. Under the microscope theyall appeared to consist of accumulations of diatoms, among which, moreover, were a number of larger cellular organisms of a verycharacteristic appearance. [59] All of these diatomous accumulationskept at a certain depth, about a yard below the surface of the water;in some of the small lanes they appeared in large masses. At the samedepth the above-named alga seemed especially to flourish, while partsof it rose up to the surface. It was evident that these accumulationsof diatoms and alga remained floating exactly at the depth where theupper stratum of fresh water rests on the sea-water. The water onthe surface was entirely fresh, and the masses of diatoms sank in it, but floated on reaching the salt-water below. 

"Thursday, July 19th. It is as I expected. I am beginning to knowthe ways of the wind up here pretty well now. After having blown a'windmill breeze' to-day it falls calm in the evening, and to-morrowwe shall probably have wind from the west or northwest. 

"Yesterday evening the last cigar out of the old box! And now I havesmoked the first out of the last box I have got. We were to have gotso far by the time that box was finished; but are scarcely any fartheradvanced than when I began it, and goodness knows if we shall be thatwhen this, too, has disappeared. But enough of that. Smoke away. 

"Sunday, July 22d. The northwest wind did not come quite up totime; on Friday we had northeast instead, and during the night itgradually went round to N. N. E. , and yesterday forenoon it blew duenorth. To-day it has ended in the west, the old well-known quarter, of which we have had more than enough. This evening the line [60]shows about N. W. To N. , and it is strong, so we are moving south again. 

"I pass the day at the microscope. I am now busied with the diatomsand algæ of all kinds that grow on the ice in the uppermost freshstratum of the sea. These are undeniably most interesting things, a whole new world of organisms that are carried off by the ice fromknown shores across the unknown Polar Sea, there to awaken everysummer and develop into life and bloom. Yes, it is very interestingwork, but yet there is not that same burning interest as of old, although the scent of oil of cloves, Canada balsam, and wood-oilawakens many dear reminiscences of that quiet laboratory at home, and every morning as I come in here the microscope and glasses andcolors on the table invite me to work. But though I work indefatigablyday after day till late in the night, it is mostly duty work, and I amnot sorry when it is finished, to go and lie for some few hours in myberth reading a novel and smoking a cigar. With what exultation wouldI not throw the whole aside, spring up, and lay hold of real life, fighting my way over ice and sea with sledges, boats, or kayaks! Itis more than true that it is 'easy to live a life of battle'; buthere there is neither storm nor battle, and I thirst after them. Ilong to enlist titanic forces and fight my way forward--that would beliving! But what pleasure is there in strength when there is nothingfor it to do? Here we drift forward, and here we drift back, and nowwe have been two months on the same spot. 

"Everything, however, is being got ready for a possible expedition, or for the contingency of its becoming necessary to abandon theship. All the hand-sledges are lashed together, and the iron fittingscarefully seen to. Six dog-sledges are also being made, and to-morrowwe shall begin building kayaks ready for the men. They are easy todraw on hand-sledges in case of a retreat over the ice without theship. For a beginning we are making kayaks to hold two men each. Iintend to have them about 12 feet long, 3 feet wide, and 18 inchesin depth. Six of these are to be made. They are to be covered withsealskin or sail-cloth, and to be decked all over, except for twoholes--one for each man. 

"I feel that we have, or rather shall have, everything needful fora brilliant retreat. Sometimes I seem almost to be longing for adefeat--a decisive one--so that we might have a chance of showingwhat is in us, and putting an end to this irksome inactivity. 

"Monday, July 30th. Westerly wind, with northwesterly by way of apleasant variety; such is our daily fare week after week. On comingup in the morning I no longer care to look at the weathercock on themasthead, or at the line in the water; for I know beforehand thatthe former points east or southeast, and the line in the contrarydirection, and that we are ever bearing to the southeast. Yesterdayit was 81° 7' north latitude, the day before 81° 11', and last Monday, July 25th, 81° 26'. 

"But it occupies my thoughts no longer. I know well enough therewill be a change some time or other, and the way to the starsleads through adversity. I have found a new world; and that isthe world of animal and plant life that exists in almost everyfresh-water pool on the ice-floes. From morning till evening andtill late in the night I am absorbed with the microscope, and seenothing around me. I live with these tiny beings in their separateuniverse, where they are born and die, generation after generation;where they pursue each other in the struggle for life, and carry ontheir love affairs with the same feelings, the same sufferings, andthe same joys that permeate every living being from these microscopicanimalcules up to man--self-preservation and propagation--that is thewhole story. Fiercely as we human beings struggle to push our wayon through the labyrinth of life, their struggles are assuredly noless fierce than ours--one incessant, restless hurrying to and fro, pushing all others aside, to burrow out for themselves what is needfulto them. And as to love, only mark with what passion they seek eachother out. With all our brain-cells, we do not feel more strongly thanthey, never live so entirely for a sensation. But what is life? Whatmatters the individual's suffering so long as the struggle goes on?

"And these are small, one-celled lumps of viscous matter, teeming inthousands and millions, on nearly every single floe over the wholeof this boundless sea, which we are apt to regard as the realmof death. Mother Nature has a remarkable power of producing lifeeverywhere--even this ice is a fruitful soil for her. 

"In the evening a little variety occurred in our uneventful existence, Johansen having discovered a bear to the southeast of the ship, butout of range. It had, no doubt, been prowling about for some timewhile we were below at supper, and had been quite near us; but, beingalarmed by some sound or other, had gone off eastward. Sverdrup and Iset out after it, but to no purpose; the lanes hindered us too much, and, moreover, a fog came on, so that we had to return after havinggone a good distance. "

The world of organisms I above alluded to was the subject of specialresearch through the short summer, and in many respects was quiteremarkable. When the sun's rays had gained power on the surface ofthe ice and melted the snow, so that pools were formed, there wassoon to be seen at the bottom of these pools small yellowish-brownspots, so small that at first one hardly noticed them. Day by daythey increased in size, and absorbing, like all dark substances, theheat of the sun's rays, they gradually melted the underlying ice andformed round cavities, often several inches deep. These brown spotswere the above-mentioned algæ and diatoms. They developed speedilyin the summer light, and would fill the bottoms of the cavitieswith a thick layer. But there were not plants only, the water alsoteemed with swarms of animalcules, mostly infusoria and flagellata, which subsisted on the plants. I actually found bacteria--even theseregions are not free from them!

But I could not always remain chained by the microscope. Sometimes, when the fine weather tempted me irresistibly, I had to go out andbake myself in the sun, and imagine myself in Norway. 

"Saturday, August 4th. Lovely weather yesterday and to-day. Light, fleecy clouds sailing high aloft through the sparkling azuresky--filling one's soul with longings to soar as high and as free asthey. I have just been out on deck this evening; one could almostimagine one's self at home by the fjord. Saturday evening's peaceseemed to rest on the scene and on one's soul. 

"Our sailmakers, Sverdrup and Amundsen, have to-day finishedcovering the first double kayak with sail-cloth. Fully equipped, it weighs 30. 5 kilos. (60 lbs. ). I think it will prove a first-ratecontrivance. Sverdrup and I tried it on a pool. It carried ussplendidly, and was so stiff that even sitting on the deck we couldhandle it quite comfortably. It will easily carry two men with fullequipment for 100 days. A handier or more practical craft for regionslike this I cannot well imagine. 

"Sunday, August 5th. 81° 7' north latitude. 

 "'I can't forget the sparkling fjord When the church boat rows in the morning. '

"Brilliant summer weather. I bathe in the sun and dream I am at homeeither on the high mountains or--heaven knows why--on the fjords ofthe west coast. The same white fleecy clouds in the clear blue summersky; heaven arches itself overhead like a perfect dome, there isnothing to bar one's way, and the soul rises up unfettered beneathit. What matters it that the world below is different--the ice nolonger single glittering glaciers, but spread out on every hand? Isit not these same fleecy clouds far away in the blue expanse thatthe eye looks for at home on a bright summer day? Sailing on these, fancy steers its course to the land of wistful longing. And it isjust at these glittering glaciers in the distance that we direct ourlonging gaze. Why should not a summer day be as lovely here? Ah, yes! it is lovely, pure as a dream, without desire, without sin;a poem of clear white sunbeams refracted in the cool crystal blue ofthe ice. How unutterably delightful does not this world appear to uson some stifling summer day at home?

"Have rested and 'kept Sunday. ' I could not remain in the whole day, so took a trip over the ice. Progress is easy except for the lanes. 

"Hansen practised kayak-paddling this afternoon on the pool aroundthe ship, from which several channels diverge over the ice; but hewas not content with paddling round in them, but must, of course, make an experiment in capsizing and recovering himself as the Eskimosdo. It ended by his not coming up again, losing his paddle, remaininghead downward in the water, and beating about with his hands till thekayak filled, and he got a cold bath from top to toe. Nordahl, whowas standing by on the ice to help him, at last found it necessaryto go in after him and raise him up on an even keel again, to thegreat amusement of us others. 

"One can notice that it is summer. This evening a game of cards isbeing played on deck, with 'Peik's' [61] big pot for a card-table. Onecould almost think it was an August evening at home; only the toddyis wanting, but the pipes and cigars we have. 

"Sunday, August 12th. We had a shooting competition in the forenoon. 

"A glorious evening. I took a stroll over the ice among the lanesand hummocks. It was so wonderfully calm and still. Not a sound to beheard but the drip, drip of water from a block of ice, and the dullsound of a snow-slip from some hummock in the distance. The sun islow down in the north, and overhead is the pale blue dome of heaven, with gold-edged clouds. The profound peace of the Arctic solitudes. Mythoughts fly free and far. If one could only give utterance to all thatstirs one's soul on such an evening as this! What an incomprehensiblepower one's surroundings have over one!

"Why is it that at times I complain of the loneliness? With Naturearound one, with one's books and studies, one can never be quite alone. 

"Thursday, August 16th. Yesterday evening, as I was lying in my berthreading, and all except the watch had turned in, I heard the report ofa gun on deck over my head. Thinking it was a bear, I hurriedly puton my sea-boots and sprang on deck. There I saw Johansen bareheaded, rifle in hand. 'Was it you that fired the shot?' 'Yes. I shot atthe big hummock yonder--I thought something was stirring there, andI wanted to see what it was, but it seems to have been nothing. ' Iwent to the railings and looked out. 'I fancied it was a bear thatwas after our meat--but it was nothing. ' As we stood there one of thedogs came jogging along from the big hummock. 'There, you see what youhave shot at, ' I said, laughing. 'I'm bothered if it wasn't a dog!' hereplied. 'Ice-bear' it was, true enough, for so we called this dog. Ithad seemed so large in the fog, scratching at the meat hummock. 'Didyou aim at the dog and miss? That was a lucky chance!' 'No! I simplyfired at random in that direction, for I wanted to see what itwas. ' I went below and turned in again. At breakfast to-day he had, of course, to run the gantlet of some sarcastic questions about his'harmless thunderbolt, ' but he parried them adroitly enough. 

"Tuesday, August 21st. North latitude, 81° 4. 2'. Strange how littlealteration there is: we drift a little to the north, then a little tothe south, and keep almost to the same spot. But I believe, as I havebelieved all along, since before we even set out, that we should beaway three years, or rather three winters and four summers, neithermore nor less, and that in about two years' time from this presentautumn we shall reach home. [62] The approaching winter will driftus farther, however slowly, and it begins already to announce itself, for there were four degrees of cold last night. 

"Sunday, August 26th. It seems almost as if winter had come; thecold has kept on an average between 24. 8° Fahr. (-4° C. ) and 21. 2°Fahr. (-6° C. ) since Thursday. There are only slight variations inthe temperature up here, so we may expect it to fall regularly fromthis time forth, though it is rather early for winter to set in. Allthe pools and lanes are covered with ice, thick enough to bear a maneven without snow-shoes. 

"I went out on my snow-shoes both morning and afternoon. Thesurface was beautiful everywhere. Some of the lanes had opened outor been compressed a little, so that the new ice was thin and bentunpleasantly under the snow-shoes; but it bore me, though two of thedogs fell through. A good deal of snow had fallen, so there was fine, soft new snow to travel over. If it keeps on as it is now, there willbe excellent snow-shoeing in the winter; for it is fresh water thatnow freezes on the surface, so that there is no salt that the windcan carry from the new ice to spoil the snow all around, as was thecase last winter. Such snow with salt in it makes as heavy a surfaceas sand. 

"Monday, August 27th. Just as Blessing was going below after hiswatch to-night, and was standing by the rail looking out, he sawa white form that lay rolling in the snow a little way off tothe southeast. Afterwards it remained for a while lying quitestill. Johansen, who was to relieve Blessing, now joined him, and they both stood watching the animal intently. Presently it gotup, so there was no longer any doubt as to what it was. Each gothold of a rifle and crept stealthily towards the forecastle, wherethey waited quietly while the bear cautiously approached the ship, making long tacks against the wind. A fresh breeze was blowing, andthe windmill going round at full speed; but this did not alarm himat all; very likely it was this very thing he wanted to examine. Atlast he reached the lane in front, when they both fired and he felldown dead on the spot. It was nice to get fresh meat again. This wasthe first bear we had shot this year, and of course we had roast bearfor dinner to-day. Regular winter with snow-storms. 

"Wednesday, August 29th. A fresh wind; it rattles and pipes in therigging aloft. An enlivening change and no mistake! The snow driftsas if it were midwinter. Fine August weather! But we are bearing northagain, and we have need to! Yesterday our latitude was 80° 53. 5'. Thisevening I was standing in the hold at work on my new bamboo kayak, which will be the very acme of lightness. Pettersen happened to comedown, and gave me a hand with some lashings that I was busy with. Wechatted a little about things in general; and he was of opinion'that we had a good crib of it on board the Fram, because here wehad everything we wanted, and she was a devil of a ship--and anyother ship would have been crushed flat long ago. ' But for all thathe would not be afraid, he said, to leave her, when he saw all thecontrivances, such as these new kayaks, we had been getting ready. Hewas sure no former expedition had ever had such contrivances, or beenso equipped against all possible emergencies as we. But, after all, he would prefer to return home on the Fram. " Then we talked aboutwhat we should do when we did get home. 

"'Oh, for your part, no doubt you'll be off to the South Pole, 'he said. 

"'And you?' I replied. 'Will you tuck up your sleeves and begin againat the old work?'

"'Oh, very likely! but on my word I ought to have a week's holidayfirst. After such a trip I should want it, before buckling to at thesledge-hammer again. '"

CHAPTER VIII

SECOND AUTUMN IN THE ICE

So summer was over, and our second autumn and winter was beginning. Butwe were now more inured to the trials of patience attendant on thislife, and time passed quickly. Besides, I myself was now taken up withnew plans and preparations. Allusion has several times been made tothe fact that we had, during the course of the summer, got everythinginto readiness for the possibility of having to make our way homeacross the ice. Six double kayaks had been built, the hand-sledgeswere in good order, and careful calculation had been made of theamount of food, clothing, fuel, etc. , that it would be necessaryto carry. But I had also quietly begun to make preparations for myown meditated expedition north. In August, as already mentioned, Ihad begun to work at a single kayak, the framework made of bamboo. Ihad said nothing about my plan yet, except a few words to Sverdrup;it was impossible to tell how far north the drift would take us, and so many things might happen before spring. 

In the meantime life on board went on as usual. There were theregular observations and all sorts of occupations, and I myselfwas not so absorbed in my plans that I did not find time for otherthings too. Thus I see from my diary that in the end of August and inSeptember I must have been very proud of a new invention that I madefor the galley. All last year we had cooked on a particular kind ofcopper range, heated by petroleum lamps. It was quite satisfactory, except that it burned several quarts of petroleum a day. I could nothelp fearing sometimes that our lighting supply might run short, ifthe expedition lasted longer than was expected, and always wonderedif it would not be possible to construct an apparatus that wouldburn coal-oil--"black-oil, " as we call it on board--of which wehad 20 tons, originally intended for the engine. And I succeededin making such an apparatus. On August 30th I write: "Have tried mynewly invented coal-oil apparatus for heating the range, and it isbeyond expectation successful. It is splendid that we shall be ableto burn coal-oil in the galley. Now there is no fear of our havingto cry ourselves blind for lack of light by-and-by. This adds morethan 4000 gallons to our stock of oil; and we can keep all our finepetroleum now for lighting purposes, and have lamps for many a year, even if we are a little extravagant. The 20 tons of coal-oil oughtto keep the range going for 4 years, I think. 

"The contrivance is as simple as possible. From a reservoir of oila pipe leads down and into the fireplace; the oil drips down fromthe end of this pipe into an iron bowl, and is here sucked up bya sheet of asbestos, or by coal ashes. The flow of oil from thepipe is regulated by a fine valve cock. To insure a good draught, I bring a ventilating pipe from outside right by the range door. Airis pressed through this by a large wind-sail on deck, and blowsstraight on to the iron bowl, where the oil burns briskly with aclear, white flame. Whoever lights the fire in the morning has onlyto go on deck and see that the wind-sail is set to the wind, to openthe ventilator, to turn the cock so that the oil runs properly, andthen set it burning with a scrap of paper. It looks after itself, andthe water is boiling in twenty minutes or half an hour. One could nothave anything much easier than this, it seems to me. But of course inour, as in other communities, it is difficult to introduce reforms;everything new is looked upon with suspicion. "

Somewhat later I write of the same apparatus: "We are now using thegalley again, with the coal-oil fire; the moving down took place theday before yesterday, [63] and the fire was used yesterday. It workscapitally; a three-foot wind is enough to give a splendid draught. Theday before yesterday, when I was sitting with some of the others inthe saloon in the afternoon, I heard a dull report out in the galley, and said at once that it sounded like an explosion. Presently Pettersen[64] stuck a head in at the door as black as a sweep's, great lumpsof soot all over it, and said that the stove had exploded rightinto his face; he was only going to look if it was burning rightly, and the whole fiendish thing flew out at him. A stream of words notunmingled with oaths flowed like peas out of a sack, while the restof us yelled with laughter. In the galley it was easy to see thatsomething had happened; the walls were covered with soot in lumpsand stripes pointing towards the fireplace. The explanation of theaccident was simple enough. The draught had been insufficient, anda quantity of gas had formed which had not been able to burn untilair was let in by Pettersen opening the door. 

"This is a good beginning. I told Pettersen in the evening that Iwould do the cooking myself next day, when the real trial was to bemade. But he would not hear of such a thing; he said 'I was not tothink that he minded a trifle like that; I might trust to its beingall right'--and it was all right. From that day I heard nothing butpraise of the new apparatus, and it was used until the Fram was outin the open sea again. 

"Thursday, September 6th. 81° 13. 7' north latitude. Have I been marriedfive years to-day? Last year this was a day of victory--when theice-fetters burst at Taimur Island--but there is no thought of victorynow; we are not so far north as I had expected; the northwest wind hascome again, and we are drifting south. And yet the future does not seemto me so long and so dark as it sometimes has done. Next September 6th. . . Can it be possible that then every fetter will have burst, and weshall be sitting together talking of this time in the far north andof all the longing, as of something that once was and that will neverbe again? The long, long night is past; the morning is just breaking, and a glorious new day lies before us. And what is there against thishappening next year? Why should not this winter carry the Fram westto some place north of Franz Josef Land?. . . And then my time has come, and off I go with dogs and sledges--to the north. My heart beats withjoy at the very thought of it. The winter shall be spent in makingevery preparation for that expedition, and it will pass quickly. 

"I have already spent much time on these preparations. I thinkof everything that must be taken, and how it is to be arranged, and the more I look at the thing from all points of view, the morefirmly convinced do I become that the attempt will be successful, if only the Fram can get north in reasonable time, not too late inthe spring. If she could just reach 84° or 85°, then I should be offin the end of February or the first days of March, as soon as thedaylight comes, after the long winter night, and the whole would golike a dance. Only four or five months, and the time for action willhave come again. What joy! When I look out over the ice now it isas if my muscles quivered with longing to be striding off over it inreal earnest--fatigue and privation will then be a delight. It may seemfoolish that I should be determined to go off on this expedition, when, perhaps, I might do more important work quietly here on board. Butthe daily observations will be carried on exactly the same. 

"I have celebrated the day by arranging my workroom for the winter. Ihave put in a petroleum stove, and expect that this will make itwarm enough even in the coldest weather, with the snowballs that Iintend to build round the outside of it, and a good roof-coveringof snow. At least, double the amount of work will be done if thiscabin can be used in winter, and I can sit up here instead of in themidst of the racket below. I have such comfortable times of it now, in peace and quietness, letting my thoughts take their way unchecked. 

"Sunday, September 9th. 81° 4' north latitude. The midnight sundisappeared some days ago, and already the sun sets in the northwest;it is gone by 10 o'clock in the evening, and there is once more aglow over the eternal white. Winter is coming fast. 

"Another peaceful Sunday, with rest from work, and a littlereading. Out snow-shoeing to-day I crossed several frozen-over lanes, and very slight packing has begun here and there. I was stoppedat last by a broad open lane lying pretty nearly north and south;at places it was 400 to 500 yards across, and I saw no end to iteither north or south. The surface was good; one got along quickly, with no exertion at all when it was in the direction of the wind. 

"This is undeniably a monotonous life. Sometimes it feels to melike a long dark night, my life's 'Ragnarok, ' [65] dividing it intotwo. . . . 'The sun is darkened, the summers with it, all weather isweighty with woe'; snow covers the earth, the wind whistles over theendless plains, and for three years this winter lasts, till comesthe time for the great battle, and 'men tramp Hel's way. ' There is ahard struggle between life and death; but after that comes the reignof peace. The earth rises from the sea again, and decks itself anewwith verdure. 'Torrents roar, eagles hover over them, watching forfish among the rocks, ' and then 'Valhalla, ' fairer than the sun, and long length of happy days. 

"Pettersen, who is cook this week, came in here this evening, as usual, to get the bill of fare for next day. When his business was done, hestood for a minute, and then said that he had had such a strange dreamlast night; he had wanted to be taken as cook with a new expedition, but Dr. Nansen wouldn't have him. 

"'And why not?'

"'Well, this was how it was: I dreamed that Dr. Nansen was going offacross the ice to the Pole with four men, and I asked to be taken, but you said that you didn't need a cook on this expedition, andI thought that was queer enough, for you would surely want food onthis trip as well. It seemed to me that you had ordered the ship tomeet you at some other place; anyhow, you were not coming back here, but to some other land. It's strange that one can lie and rake upsuch a lot of nonsense in one's sleep. '

"'That was perhaps not such very great nonsense, Pettersen; it isquite possible that we might have to make such an expedition; but ifwe did, we should certainly not come back to the Fram. '

"'Well, if that happened, I would ask to go, sure enough; for it'sjust what I should like. I'm no great snow-shoer, but I would manageto keep up somehow. '

"'That's all very well; but there's a great deal of weary hard workon a journey like that; you needn't think it's all pleasure. '

"'No, no one would expect that; but it would be all right if I mightonly go. '

"'But there might be worse than hardships, Pettersen. It would morethan likely mean risking your life. '

"'I don't care for that either. A man has got to die sometime. '

"'Yes, but you don't want to shorten your life. '

"'Oh, I would take my chance of that. You can lose your life at home, too, though, perhaps, not quite so easily as here. But if a man wasalways to be thinking about that he would never do anything. '

"'That's true. Anyhow, he would not need to come on an expeditionlike this. But remember that a journey northward over the ice wouldbe no child's play. '

"'No, I know that well enough, but if it was with you I shouldn't beafraid. It would never do if we had to manage alone. We'd be sure togo wrong; but it's quite a different thing, you see, when there isone to lead that you know has been through it all before. '

"It is extraordinary the blind faith such men have in their leader! Ibelieve they would set off without a moment's reflection if they wereasked to join in an expedition to the Pole now, with black winter atthe door. It is grand as long as the faith lasts, but God be mercifulto him on the day that it fails!

"Saturday, September 15th. This evening we have seen the moon againfor the first time--beautiful full moon--and a few stars were alsovisible in the night sky, which is still quite light. 

"Notices were posted up to-day in several places. They ran as follows:

 "'As fire here on board might be followed by the most terrible consequences, too great precaution cannot be taken. For this reason every man is requested to observe the following rules most conscientiously:

 1. No one is to carry matches. 2. The only places where matches may be kept are-- (1) The galley, where the cook for the time being is responsible for them. (2) The four single cabins, where the inmate of each is responsible for his box. (3) The work-cabin, when work is going on. (4) On the mast in the saloon, from which neither box nor single matches must be taken away under any circumstances. 3. Matches must not be struck anywhere except in the places above named. 4. The one exception to the above rules is made when the forge has to be lighted. 5. All the ship's holds are to be inspected every evening at 8 o'clock by the fire-inspector, who will give in his report to the undersigned. After that time no one may, without special permission, take a light into the holds or into the engine-room. 6. Smoking is only allowed in the living-rooms and on deck. Lighted pipes or cigars must on no account be seen elsewhere. 

 Fridtjof Nansen. 

 Fram, September 15th, 1894. '

"Some of these regulations may seem to infringe on the principle ofequality which I have been so anxious to maintain; but these seem tome the best arrangements I can make to insure the good of all--andthat must come before everything else. 

"Friday, September 21st. We have had tremendously strong wind fromthe northwest and north for some days, with a velocity at times of39 and 42 feet. During this time we must have drifted a good waysouth. 'The Radical Right' had got hold of the helm, said Amundsen;but their time in power was short; for it fell calm yesterday, andnow we are going north again, and it looks as if the 'Left' were tohave a spell at the helm, to repair the wrongs done by the 'Right. '

"Kennels for the dogs have been built this week--a row of splendidice-houses along the port side of the ship; four dogs in each house;good warm winter quarters. In the meantime our eight little pupsare thriving on board; they have a grand world to wander round--thewhole fore-deck, with an awning over it. You can hear their littlebarks and yelps as they rush about among shavings, hand-sledges, the steam-winch, mill-axle, and other odds and ends. They play alittle and they fight a little, and forward under the forecastlethey have their bed among the shavings--a very cozy corner, where'Kvik' lies stretched out like a lioness in all her majesty. Therethey tumble over each other in a heap round her, sleep, yawn, eat, and pull each other's tails. It is a picture of home and peace herenear the Pole which one could watch by the hour. 

"Life goes its regular, even, uneventful way, quiet as the ice itself;and yet it is wonderful how quickly the time passes. The equinox hascome, the nights are beginning to turn dark, and at noon the sun isonly 9 degrees above the horizon. I pass the day busily here in thework cabin, and often feel as if I were sitting in my study at home, with all the comforts of civilization round me. If it were not forthe separation, one could be as well off here as there. Sometimes Iforget where I am. Not infrequently in the evening, when I have beensitting absorbed in work, I have jumped up to listen when the dogsbarked, thinking to myself, who can be coming? Then I remember thatI am not at home, but drifting out in the middle of the frozen PolarSea, at the commencement of the second long Arctic night. 

"The temperature has been down to 1. 4° Fahr. Below zero (-17°C. ) to-day; winter is coming on fast. There is little drift just now, and yet we are in good spirits. It was the same last autumn equinox;but how many disappointments we have had since then! How terribleit was in the later autumn when every calculation seemed to fail, as we drifted farther and farther south! Not one bright spot on ourhorizon! But such a time will never come again. There may still begreat relapses; there may be slow progress for a time; but thereis no doubt as to the future; we see it dawning bright in the west, beyond the Arctic night. 

"Sunday, September 23d. It was a year yesterday since we made fastfor the first time to the great hummock in the ice. Hansen improvedthe occasion by making a chart of our drift for the year. It does notlook so very bad, though the distance is not great; the direction isalmost exactly what I had expected. But more of this to-morrow; itis so late that I cannot write about it now. The nights are turningdarker and darker; winter is settling down upon us. 

"Tuesday, September 25th. I have been looking more carefully at thecalculation of our last year's drift. If we reckon from the place wherewe were shut in on the 22d of September last year to our positionon the 22d of September this year, the distance we have drifted is189 miles, equal to 3° 9' latitude. Reckoning from the same place, but to the farthest north point we reached in summer (July 16th), makes the drift 225 miles, or 3° 46'. But if we reckon from ourmost southern point in the autumn of last year (November 7th) to ourmost northern point this summer, then the drift is 305 miles, or 5°5'. We got fully 4° north, from 77° 43' to 81° 53'. To give the courseof the drift is a difficult task in these latitudes, as there is aperceptible deviation of the compass with every degree of longitudeas one passes east or west; the change, of course, given in degreeswill be almost exactly the same as the number of degrees of longitudethat have been passed. Our average course will be about N. 36° W. Thedirection of our drift is consequently a much more northerly one thanthe Jeannette's was, and this is just what we expected; ours cuts hersat an angle of 59°. The line of this year's drift continued will cutthe northeast island of Spitzbergen, and take us as far north as 84°7', in 75° east longitude, somewhere N. N. E. Of Franz Josef Land. Thedistance by this course to the Northeast Island is 827 miles. Shouldwe continue to progress only at the rate of 189 miles a year it wouldtake us 4. 4 years to do this distance. But assuming our progress tobe at the rate of 305 miles a year, we shall do it in 2. 7 years. Thatwe should drift at least as quickly as this seems probable, becausewe can hardly now be driven back as we were in October last year, when we had the open water to the south and the great mass of ice tothe north of us. 

"The past summer seems to me to have proved that while the ice isvery unwilling to go back south, it is most ready to go northwest assoon as there is ever so little easterly, not to mention southerly, wind. I therefore believe, as I always have believed, that the driftwill become faster as we get farther northwest, and the probabilityis that the Fram will reach Norway in two years, the expeditionhaving lasted its full three years, as I somehow had a feeling thatit would. As our drift is 59° more northerly than the Jeannette's, and as Franz Josef Land must force the ice north (taking for grantedthat all that comes from this great basin goes round to the north ofFranz Josef Land), it is probable that our course will become morenortherly the farther on we go, until we are past Franz Josef Land, and that we shall consequently reach a higher latitude than our driftso far would indicate. I hope 85° at least. Everything has come rightso far; the direction of our drift is exactly parallel with the coursewhich I conjectured to have been taken by the floe with the Jeannetterelics, and which I pricked out on the chart prepared for my LondonAddress. [66] This course touched about 87 1/2° north latitude. Ihave no right to expect a more northerly drift than parallel to this, and have no right to be anything but happy if I get as far. Our aim, as I have so often tried to make clear, is not so much to reach thepoint in which the earth's axis terminates, as to traverse and explorethe unknown Polar Sea; and yet I should like to get to the Pole, too, and hope that it will be possible to do so, if only we can reach 84°or 85° by March. And why should we not?

"Thursday, September 27th. Have determined that, beginning fromto-morrow, every man is to go out snow-shoeing two hours daily, from11 to 1, so long as the daylight lasts. It is necessary. If anythinghappened that obliged us to make our way home over the ice, I am afraidsome of the company would be a terrible hinderance to us, unpractisedas they are now. Several of them are first-rate snow-shoers, butfive or six of them would soon be feeling the pleasures of learning;if they had to go out on a long course, and without snow-shoes, it would be all over with us. 

"After this we used to go out regularly in a body. Besides being goodexercise, it was also a great pleasure; every one seemed to thrive onit, and they all became accustomed to the use of the shoes on thisground, even though they often got them broken in the unevennessesof the pressure-ridges; we just patched and riveted them together tobreak them again. 

"Monday, October 1st. We tried a hand-sledge to-day with a load of250 pounds. It went along easily, and yet was hard to draw, becausethe snow-shoes were apt to slip to the side on the sort of surface wehad. I almost believe that Indian snow-shoes would be better on thisground, where there are so many knobs and smooth hillocks to draw thesledges over. When Amundsen first began to pull the sledge he thoughtit was nothing at all; but when he had gone on for a time he fell intoa fit of deep and evidently sad thought, and went silently home. Whenhe got on board he confided to the others that if a man had to draw aload like that he might just as well lie down at once--it would cometo the same thing in the end. That is how practice is apt to go. Inthe afternoon I yoked three dogs to the same little sledge with the250-pound load, and they drew it along as if it were nothing at all. 

"Tuesday October 2d. Beautiful weather, but coldish; 49° Fahr. Offrost (-27° C. ) during the night, which is a good deal for October, surely. It will be a cold winter if it goes on at the same rate. Butwhat do we care whether there are 90° of frost or 120°? A goodsnow-shoeing excursion to-day. They are all becoming most expert now;but darkness will be on us presently, and then there will be no moreof it. It is a pity; this exercise is so good for us--we must thinkof something to take its place. 

"I have a feeling now as if this were to be my last winter onboard. Will it really come to my going off north in spring? Theexperiment in drawing a loaded hand-sledge over this ice was certainlyanything but promising; and if the dogs should not hold out, or shouldbe of less use than we expect; and if we should come to worse iceinstead of better--well, we should only have ourselves to trust to. Butif we can just get so far on with the Fram that the distance left tobe covered is at all a reasonable one, I believe that it is my dutyto make the venture, and I cannot imagine any difficulty that will notbe overcome when our choice lies between death--and onward and home!

"Thursday, October 4th. The ice is rather impassable in places, but there are particular lanes or tracts; taking it altogether, it is in good condition for sledging and snow-shoeing, though thesurface is rather soft, so that the dogs sink in a little. This isprobably chiefly owing to there having been no strong winds of late, so that the snow has not been well packed together. 

"Life goes on in the regular routine; there is always some littlepiece of work turning up to be done. Yesterday the breaking in ofthe young dogs began. [67] It was just the three--'Barbara, ' 'Freia, 'and 'Susine. ' 'Gulabrand' is such a miserable, thin wretch that he isescaping for the present. They were unmanageable at first, and rushedabout in all directions; but in a little while they drew like old dogs, and were altogether better than we expected. 'Kvik, ' of course, setthem a noble example. It fell to Mogstad's lot to begin the training, as it was his week for looking after the dogs. This duty is taken inturns now, each man has his week of attending to them both morningand afternoon. 

"It seems to me that a very satisfactory state of feeling prevailson board at present, when we are just entering on our second Arcticnight, which we hope is to be a longer, and probably also a colder, one than any people before us have experienced. There is appreciablyless light every day; soon there will be none; but the good spiritsdo not wane with the light. It seems to me that we are more uniformlycheerful than we have ever been. What the reason of this is I cannottell; perhaps just custom. But certainly, too, we are well off--inclover, as the saying is. We are drifting gently, but it is to behoped surely, on through the dark unknown Nivlheim, where terrifiedfancy has pictured all possible horrors. Yet we are living a life ofluxury and plenty, surrounded by all the comforts of civilization. Ithink we shall be better off this winter than last. 

"The firing apparatus in the galley is working splendidly, and the cookhimself is now of opinion that it is an invention which approachesperfection. So we shall burn nothing but coal-oil there now; itwarms the place well, and a good deal of the heat comes up hereinto the work-room, where I sometimes sit and perspire until I haveto take off one garment after another, although the window is open, and there are 30 odd degrees of cold outside. I have calculated thatthe petroleum which this enables us to keep for lighting purposesonly will last at least 10 years, though we burn it freely 300 daysin the year. At present we are not using petroleum lamps at therate assumed in my calculation, because we frequently have electriclight; and then even here summer comes once a year, or, at any rate, something which we must call summer. Even allowing for accidents, such as the possibility of a tank springing a leak and the oil runningout, there is still no reason whatever for being sparing of light, and every man can have as much as he wants. What this means can bestbe appreciated by one who for a whole year has felt the stings ofconscience every time he went to work or read alone in his cabin, and burned a lamp that was not absolutely necessary, because he couldhave used the general one in the saloon. 

"As yet the coals are not being touched, except for the stove in thesaloon, where they are to be allowed to burn as much as they like thiswinter. The quantity thus consumed will be a trifle in comparisonwith our store of about 100 tons, for which we cannot well have anyother use until the Fram once more forces her way out of the ice onthe other side. Another thing that is of no little help in keepingus warm and comfortable is the awning that is now stretched over theship. [68] The only part I have left open is the stern, abaft thebridge, so as to be able to see round over the ice from there. 

"Personally, I must say that things are going well with me; muchbetter than I could have expected. Time is a good teacher; thatdevouring longing does not gnaw so hard as it did. Is it apathybeginning? Shall I feel nothing at all by the time ten years havepassed? Oh! sometimes it comes on with all its old strength, asif it would tear me in pieces! But this is a splendid school ofpatience. Much good it does to sit wondering whether they are aliveor dead at home; it only almost drives one mad. 

"All the same, I never grow quite reconciled to this life. It is reallyneither life nor death, but a state between the two. It means neverbeing at rest about anything or in any place--a constant waiting forwhat is coming; a waiting in which, perhaps, the best years of one'smanhood will pass. It is like what a young boy sometimes feels whenhe goes on his first voyage. The life on board is hateful to him;he suffers cruelly from all the torments of sea-sickness; and beingshut in within the narrow walls of the ship is worse than prison;but it is something that has to be gone through. Beyond it all liesthe south, the land of his youthful dreams, tempting with its sunnysmile. In time he arises, half dead. Does he find his south? Howoften it is but a barren desert he is cast ashore on!

"Sunday, October 7th. It has cleared up this evening, and there isa starry sky and aurora borealis. It is a little change from theconstant cloudy weather, with frequent snow-showers, which we havehad these last days. 

"Thoughts come and thoughts go. I cannot forget, and I cannotsleep. Everything is still; all are asleep. I only hear the quiet stepof the watch on deck; the wind rustling in the rigging and the canvas, and the clock gently hacking the time in pieces there on the wall. IfI go on deck there is black night, stars sparkling high overhead, and faint aurora flickering across the gloomy vault, and out in thedarkness I can see the glimmer of the great monotonous plain of theice: it is all so inexpressibly forlorn, so far, far removed fromthe noise and unrest of men and all their striving. What is lifethus isolated? A strange, aimless process; and man a machine whicheats, sleeps, awakes; eats and sleeps again, dreams dreams, but neverlives. Or is life really nothing else? And is it just one more phaseof the eternal martyrdom, a new mistake of the erring human soul, thisbanishing of one's self to the hopeless wilderness, only to long therefor what one has left behind? Am I a coward? Am I afraid of death? Oh, no! but in these nights such longing can come over one for all beauty, for that which is contained in a single word, and the soul flees fromthis interminable and rigid world of ice. When one thinks how shortlife is, and that one came away from it all of one's own free will, and remembers, too, that another is suffering the pain of constantanxiety--'true, true till death. ' 'O mankind, thy ways are passingstrange! We are but as flakes of foam, helplessly driven over thetossing sea. '

"Wednesday, October 10th. Exactly 33 years old, then. There is nothingto be said to that, except that life is moving on, and will never turnback. They have all been touchingly nice to me to-day, and we have heldfête. They surprised me in the morning by having the saloon ornamentedwith flags. They had hung the 'Union' above Sverdrup's place. [69]We accused Amundsen of having done this, but he would not confess toit. Above my door and on over Hansen's they had the pennant with Framin big letters. It looked most festive when I came into the saloon, and they all stood up and wished me 'Many happy returns. ' When I wenton deck the flag was waving from the mizzenmast-head. 

"We took a snow-shoeing excursion south in the morning. It was windy, bitter weather; I have not felt so cold for long. The thermometeris down to 24° Fahr. Below zero (-31° C. ) this evening; this iscertainly the coldest birthday I have had yet. A sumptuous dinner:1. Fish-pudding. 2. Sausages and tongue, with potatoes, haricotbeans, and pease. 3. Preserved strawberries, with rice and cream;Crown extract of malt. Then, to every one's surprise, our doctorbegan to take out of the pocket of the overcoat he always wearsremarkable-looking little glasses--medicine-glasses, measuring-glasses, test-glasses--one for each man, and lastly a whole bottle of Lysholmerliqueur--real native Lysholmer--which awakened general enthusiasm. Twodrams of that per man was not so bad, besides a quarter of a bottleof extract of malt. Coffee after dinner, with a surprise in the shapeof apple-cake, baked by our excellent cook, Pettersen, formerly smithand engineer. Then I had to produce my cigars, which were also muchenjoyed; and of course we kept holiday all the afternoon. At supperthere was another surprise--a large birthday cake from the same baker, with the inscription 'T. L. M. D. ' (Til lykke med dagen, the Norwegianequivalent for 'Wishing a happy birthday'), '10. 10. 94. ' In the eveningcame pineapples, figs, and sweets. Many a worse birthday might bespent in lower latitudes than 81°. The evening is passing with allkinds of merriment; every one is in good spirits; the saloon resoundswith laughter--how many a merry meeting it has been the scene of!

"But when one has said good-night and sits here alone, sadness comes;and if one goes on deck there are the stars high overhead in the clearsky. In the south is a smouldering aurora arch, which from time totime sends up streamers; a constant, restless flickering. 

"We have been talking a little about this expedition, Sverdrup andI. When we were out on the ice in the afternoon he suddenly said, 'Yes, next October you will, perhaps, not be on board the Fram. ' Towhich I had to answer that, unless the winter turned out badly, Iprobably should not. But still I cannot believe in this rightly myself. 

"Every night I am at home in my dreams, but when the morning breaksI must again, like Helge, gallop back on the pale horse by the wayof the reddening dawn, not to the joys of Valhalla, but to the realmof eternal ice. 

 "'For thee alone Sigrun, Of the Sæva Mountain, Must Helge swim In the dew of sorrow. '

"Friday, October 12th. A regular storm has been blowing from theE. S. E. Since yesterday evening. Last night the mill went to bits;the teeth broke off one of the toothed wheels, which has beenconsiderably worn by a year's use. The velocity of the wind was over40 feet this morning, and it is long since I have heard it blow asit is doing this evening. We must be making good progress north justnow. Perhaps October is not to be such a bad month as I expected fromour experiences of last year. Was out snow-shoeing before dinner. Thesnow was whistling about my ears. I had not much trouble in gettingback; the wind saw to that. A tremendous snow squall is blowing justnow. The moon stands low in the southern sky, sending a dull glowthrough the driving masses. One has to hold on to one's cap. Thisis a real dismal polar night, such as one imagines it to one's selfsitting at home far away in the south. But it makes me cheerful tocome on deck, for I feel that we are moving onward. 

"Saturday, October 13th. Same wind to-day; velocity up to 39 feetand higher, but Hansen has taken an observation this evening in spiteof it. He is, as always, a fine, indefatigable fellow. We are goingnorthwest (81° 32' 8'' north latitude, 118° 28' east longitude). 

"Sunday, October 14th. Still the same storm going on. I am readingof the continual sufferings which the earlier Arctic explorers hadto contend with for every degree, even for every minute, of theirnorthward course. It gives me almost a feeling of contempt for us, lying here on sofas, warm and comfortable, passing the time readingand writing and smoking and dreaming, while the storm is tuggingand tearing at the rigging above us and the whole sea is one mass ofdriving snow, through which we are carried degree by degree northwardto the goal our predecessors struggled towards, spending their strengthin vain. And yet. . . . 

 "'Now sinks the sun, now comes the night. '

"Monday, October 15th. Went snow-shoeing eastward this morning, stillagainst the same wind and the same snowfall. You have to pay carefulattention to your course these days, as the ship is not visible anygreat distance, and if you did not find your way back, well--Butthe tracks remain pretty distinct, as the snow-crust is blown barein most places, and the drifting snow does not fasten upon it. Weare moving northward, and meanwhile the Arctic night is making itsslow and majestic entrance. The sun was low to-day; I did not see itbecause of banks of cloud in the south; but it still sent its lightup over the pale sky. There the full moon is now reigning, bathingthe great ice plain and the drifting snow in its bright light. How anight such as this raises one's thoughts! It does not matter if onehas seen the like a thousand times before; it makes the same solemnimpression when it comes again; one cannot free one's mind from itspower. It is like entering a still, holy temple, where the spirit ofnature hovers through the place on glittering silver beams, and thesoul must fall down and adore--adore the infinity of the universe. 

"Wednesday, October 17th. We are employed in taking deep-watertemperatures. It is a doubtful pleasure at this time of year. Sometimesthe water-lifter gets coated with ice, so that it will not close downbelow in the water, and has, therefore, to hang for ever so long eachtime; and sometimes it freezes tight during the observation afterit is brought up, so that the water will not run out of it into thesample bottles, not to mention all the bother there is getting theapparatus ready to lower. We are lucky if we do not require to takethe whole thing into the galley every time to thaw it. It is slow work;the temperatures have sometimes to be read by lantern light. The watersamples are not so reliable, because they freeze in the lifter. Butthe thing can be done, and we must just go on doing it. The sameeasterly wind is blowing, and we are drifting onward. Our latitudethis evening is about 81° 47' N. 

"Thursday, October 18th. I continue taking the temperatures of thewater, rather a cool amusement with the thermometer down to -29°C. (20. 2° Fahr. Below zero) and a wind blowing. Your fingers are aptto get a little stiff and numb when you have to manipulate the wetor ice-covered metal screws with bare hands and have to read off thethermometer with a magnifying-glass in order to insure accuracy tothe hundredth part of a degree, and then to bottle the samples ofwater, which you have to keep close against your breast, to preventthe water from freezing. It is a nice business!

"There was a lovely aurora borealis at 8 o'clock this evening. It wounditself like a fiery serpent in a double coil across the sky. The tailwas about 10° above the horizon in the north. Thence it turned offwith many windings in an easterly direction, then round again, andwestward in the form of an arch from 30° to 40° above the horizon, sinking down again to the west and rolling itself up into a ball, from which several branches spread out over the sky. The arches werein active motion, while pencils of streamers shot out swiftly fromthe west towards the east, and the whole serpent kept incessantlyundulating into fresh curves. Gradually it mounted up over the skynearly to the zenith, while at the same time the uppermost bend orarch separated into several fainter undulations, the ball in thenortheast glowed intensely, and brilliant streamers shot upwards tothe zenith from several places in the arches, especially from the balland from the bend farthest away in the northeast. The illuminationwas now at its highest, the color being principally a strong yellow, though at some spots it verged towards a yellowish red, while atother places it was a greenish white. When the upper wave reached thezenith the phenomenon lost something of its brilliancy, dispersinglittle by little, leaving merely a faint indication of an aurora inthe southern sky. On coming up again on deck later in the evening, I found nearly the whole of the aurora collected in the southernhalf of the sky. A low arch, 5° in height, could be seen far down inthe south over the dark segment of the horizon. Between this and thezenith were four other vague, wavy arches, the topmost of which passedright across it; here and there vivid streamers shot flaming upward, especially from the undermost arch in the south. No arch was to beseen in the northern part of the sky, only streamers every here andthere. To-night, as usual, there are traces of aurora to be seen overthe whole sky; light mists or streamers are often plainly visible, and the sky seems to be constantly covered with a luminous veil, [70] in which every here and there are dark holes. 

"There is scarcely any night, or rather I may safely say there isno night, on which no trace of aurora can be discerned as soon asthe sky becomes clear, or even when there is simply a rift in theclouds large enough for it to be seen; and as a rule we have stronglight phenomena dancing in ceaseless unrest over the firmament. Theymainly appear, however, in the southern part of the sky. 

"Friday, October 19th. A fresh breeze from E. S. E. Drifting northwardat a good pace. Soon we shall probably have passed the long-looked-for82°, and that will not be far from 82° 27', when the Fram will bethe vessel that will have penetrated farthest to the north on thisglobe. But the barometer is falling; the wind probably will not remainin that quarter long, but will shift round to the west. I only hopefor this once the barometer may prove a false prophet. I have becomerather sanguine; things have been going pretty well for so long;and October, a month which last year's experience had made me dread, has been a month of marked advance, if only it doesn't end badly. 

"The wind to-day, however, was to cost a life. The mill, which hadbeen repaired after the mishap to the cog-wheel the other day, was setgoing again. In the afternoon a couple of the puppies began fightingover a bone, when one of them fell underneath one of the cog-wheels onthe axle of the mill, and was dragged in between it and the deck. Itspoor little body nearly made the whole thing come to a standstill;and, unfortunately, no one was on the spot to stop it in time. Iheard the noise, and rushed on deck; the puppy had just been drawnout nearly dead; the whole of its stomach was torn open. It gavea faint whine, and was at once put out of its misery. Poor littlefrolicsome creature! Only a little while ago you were gambollingaround, enjoying an innocent romp with your brothers and sisters;then came the thigh-bone of a bear trundling along the deck from thegalley; you and the others made a headlong rush for it, and now thereyou lie, cruelly lacerated and dead as a herring. Fate is inexorable!

"Sunday, October 31st. North latitude 82° 0. 2'; east longitude 114°9'. It is late in the evening, and my head is bewildered, as if Ihad been indulging in a regular debauch, but it was a debauch of avery innocent nature. 

"A grand banquet to-day to celebrate the eighty-second degree oflatitude. The observation gave 82° 0. 2' last night, and we have nowcertainly drifted a little farther north. Honey-cakes (gingerbread)were baked for the occasion first-class honey-cakes, too, you maytake my word for it; and then, after a refreshing snow-shoe run, came a festal banquet. Notices were stuck up in the saloon requestingthe guests to be punctual at dinner-time, for the cook had exertedhimself to the utmost of his power. The following deeply felt linesby an anonymous poet also appeared on a placard:

 "'When dinner is punctually served at the time, No fear that the milk soup will surely be prime; But the viands are spoiled if you come to it late, The fish-pudding will lie on your chest a dead weight; What's preserved in tin cases, there can be no doubt, If you wait long enough will force its way out. Even meat of the ox, of the sheep, or of swine, Very different in this from the juice of the vine! Ramornie, and Armour, and Thorne, and Herr Thüs, Good meats have preserved, and they taste not amiss; So I'll just add a word, friends, of warning to you: If you want a good dinner, come at one, not at two. '

The lyric melancholy which here finds utterance must have been theoutcome of many bitter disappointments, and furnishes a valuableinternal evidence as to the anonymous author's profession. Meanwhilethe guests assembled with tolerable punctuality, the only exceptionbeing your humble servant, who was obliged to take some photographsin the rapidly waning daylight. The menu was splendid: 1. Ox-tailsoup. 2. Fish-pudding, with melted butter and potatoes. 3. Turtle, withmarrowfat pease, etc. , etc. 4. Rice, with multer (cloudberries) andcream; Crown malt extract. After dinner, coffee and honey-cakes. Aftersupper, which also was excellent, there was a call for music, which wasliberally supplied throughout the whole evening by various accomplishedperformers on the organ, among whom Bentzen specially distinguishedhimself, his late experiences on the ice with the crank-handle [71]having put him in first-rate training. Every now and then the musicdragged a bit, as though it were being hauled up from an abyss some1000 or 1500 fathoms deep; then it would quicken and get more lively, as it came nearer to the surface. At last the excitement rose to sucha pitch that Pettersen and I had to get up and have a dance, a waltzand a polka or two; and we really executed some very tasteful pas dedeux on the limited floor of the saloon. Then Amundsen also was sweptinto the mazes of the dance, while the others played cards. Meanwhilerefreshments were served in the form of preserved peaches, driedbananas, figs, honey-cakes, etc. , etc. In short, we made a jovialevening of it, and why should we not? We are progressing merrilytowards our goal, we are already half-way between the New SiberianIslands and Franz Josef Land, and there is not a soul on board whodoubts that we shall accomplish what we came out to do; so longlive merriment!

"But the endless stillness of the polar night holds its sway aloft; themoon, half full, shines over the ice, and the stars sparkle brilliantlyoverhead; there are no restless northern lights, and the south windsighs mournfully through the rigging. A deep, peaceful stillnessprevails everywhere. It is the infinite loveliness of death--Nirvana. 

"Monday, October 22d. It is beginning to be cold now; the thermometerwas -34. 6° C. (30. 2° Fahr. Below zero) last night, and this eveningit is -36° C. (32. 8 Fahr. Below zero). 

"A lovely aurora this evening (11. 30). A brilliant corona encircledthe zenith with a wreath of streamers in several layers, one outsidethe other; then larger and smaller sheaves of streamers spread over thesky, especially low down towards S. W. And E. S. E. All of them, however, tended upward towards the corona, which shone like a halo. I stoodwatching it a long while. Every now and then I could discern a darkpatch in its middle, at the point where all the rays converged. Itlay a little south of the Pole-star, and approached Cassiopeia in theposition it then occupied. But the halo kept smouldering and shiftingjust as if a gale in the upper strata of the atmosphere were playingthe bellows to it. Presently fresh streamers shot out of the darknessoutside the inner halo, followed by other bright shafts of light ina still wider circle, and meanwhile the dark space in the middle wasclearly visible; at other times it was entirely covered with masses oflight. Then it appeared as if the storm abated, and the whole turnedpale, and glowed with a faint whitish hue for a little while, only toshoot wildly up once more and to begin the same dance over again. Thenthe entire mass of light around the corona began to rock to and fro inlarge waves over the zenith and the dark central point, whereupon thegale seemed to increase and whirl the streamers into an inextricabletangle, till they merged into a luminous vapor, that enveloped thecorona and drowned it in a deluge of light, so that neither it, nor the streamers, nor the dark centre could be seen--nothing, infact, but a chaos of shining mist. Again it became paler, and I wentbelow. At midnight there was hardly anything of the aurora to be seen. 

"Friday, October 26th. Yesterday evening we were in 82° 3' northlatitude. To-day the Fram is two years old. The sky has been overcastduring the last two days, and it has been so dark at midday that Ithought we should soon have to stop our snow-shoe expeditions. Butthis morning brought us clear still weather, and I went out on adelightful trip to the westward, where there had been a good dealof fresh packing, but nothing of any importance. In honor of theoccasion we had a particularly good dinner, with fried halibut, turtle, pork chops, with haricot beans and green pease, plum-pudding(real burning plum-pudding for the first time) with custard sauce, and wound up with strawberries. As usual, the beverages consistedof wine (that is to say, lime-juice, with water and sugar) and Crownmalt extract. I fear there was a general overtaxing of the digestiveapparatus. After dinner, coffee and honey-cakes, with which Nordahlstood cigarettes. General holiday. 

"This evening it has begun to blow from the north, but probably thisdoes not mean much; I must hope so, at all events, and trust that weshall soon get a south wind again. But it is not the mild zephyr weyearn for, not the breath of the blushing dawn. No, a cold, bitingsouth wind, roaring with all the force of the Polar Sea, so thatthe Fram, the two-year-old Fram, may be buried in the snow-storm, and all around her be but a reeking frost--it is this we are waitingfor, this that will drift us onward to our goal. To-day, then, Fram, thou art two years old. I said at the dinner-table that if a yearago we were unanimous in believing that the Fram was a good ship, we had much better grounds for that belief to-day, for safely andsurely she is carrying us onward, even if the speed be not excessive, and so we drank the Fram's good health and good progress. I did notsay too much. Had I said all that was in my heart, my words would nothave been so measured; for, to say the truth, we all of us dearly lovethe ship, as much as it is possible to love any impersonal thing. Andwhy should we not love her? No mother can give her young more warmthand safety under her wings than she affords to us. She is indeedlike a home to us. We all rejoice to return to her from out on theicy plains, and when I have been far away and have seen her mastsrising over the everlasting mantle of snow, how often has my heartglowed with warmth towards her! To the builder of this home gratefulthoughts often travel during the still nights. He, I feel certain, sits yonder at home often thinking of us; but he knows not wherehis thought can seek the Fram in the great white tract around thePole. But he knows his child; and though all else lose faith in her, he will believe that she will hold out. Yes, Colin Archer, could yousee us now, you would know that your faith in her is not misplaced. 

"I am sitting alone in my berth, and my thoughts glide back over thetwo years that have passed. What demon is it that weaves the threadsof our lives, that makes us deceive ourselves, and ever sends us forthon paths we have not ourselves laid out--paths on which we have nodesire to walk? Was it a mere feeling of duty that impelled me? Ohno! I was simply a child yearning for a great adventure out in theunknown, who had dreamed of it so long that at last I believed itreally awaited me. And it has, indeed, fallen to my lot, the greatadventure of the ice, deep and pure as infinity; the silent, starlitpolar night; nature itself in its profundity; the mystery of life;the ceaseless circling of the universe; the feast of death--withoutsuffering, without regret--eternal in itself. Here in the great nightthou standest in all thy naked pettiness, face to face with nature;and thou sittest devoutly at the feet of eternity, intently listening;and thou knowest God the all-ruling, the centre of the universe. Allthe riddles of life seem to grow clear to thee, and thou laughestat thyself that thou couldst be consumed by brooding, it is all solittle, so unutterably little. . . . 'Whoso sees Jehovah dies. '

"Sunday, November 4th. At noon I had gone out on a snow-shoeexpedition, and had taken some of the dogs with me. Presently I noticedthat those that had been left behind at the ship began to bark. Thosewith me pricked up their ears, and several of them started off back, with 'Ulenka' at their head. Most of them soon stopped, listening andlooking behind them to see if I were following. I wondered for a littlewhile whether it could be a bear, and then continued on my way; butat length I could stand it no longer, and set off homeward, with thedogs dashing wildly on in front. On approaching the ship I saw some ofthe men setting off with guns; they were Sverdrup, Johansen, Mogstad, and Henriksen. They had got a good start of me in the direction inwhich the dogs were barking before I, too, got hold of a gun and setoff after them. All at once I saw through the darkness the flash ofa volley from those in front, followed by another shot; then severalmore, until at last it sounded like regular platoon firing. What thedeuce could it be? They were standing on the same spot, and kept firingincessantly. Why on earth did they not advance nearer? I hurried on, thinking it was high time I came up with my snow-shoes to follow thegame, which must evidently be in full flight. Meanwhile they advanceda little, and then there was another flash to be seen through thedarkness, and so they went on two or three times. One of the numberat last dashed forward over the ice and fired straight down in frontof him, while another knelt down and fired towards the east. Were theytrying their guns? But surely it was a strange time for doing so, andthere were so many shots. Meanwhile the dogs tore around over the ice, and gathered in clumps, barking furiously. At length I overtook them, and saw three bears scattered over the ice, a she-bear and two cubs, while the dogs lay over them, worrying them like mad and tearingaway at paws, throat, and tail. 'Ulenka' especially was besideherself. She had gripped one of the cubs by the throat, and worriedit like a mad thing, so that it was difficult to get her away. Thebears had gone very leisurely away from the dogs, which dared notcome to sufficiently close quarters to use their teeth till the oldshe-bear had been wounded and had fallen down. The bears, indeed, hadacted in a very suspicious manner. It seemed just as if the she-bearhad some deep design, some evil intent, in her mind, if she couldonly have lured the dogs near enough to her. Suddenly she halted, let the cubs go on in front, sniffed a little, and then came backto meet the dogs, who at the same time, as if at a word of command, all turned tail and set off towards the west. It was then that thefirst shot was fired, and the old bear tottered and fell headlong, when immediately some of the dogs set to and tackled her. One of thecubs then got its quietus, while the other one was fired at and madeoff over the ice with three dogs after it. They soon overtook it andpulled it down, so that when Mogstad came up he was obliged first ofall to get the dogs off before he could venture to shoot. It was aglorious slaughter, and by no means unwelcome, for we had that veryday eaten the last remains of our last bear in the shape of meat-cakesfor dinner. The two cubs made lovely Christmas pork. 

"In all probability these were the same bears whose tracks we hadseen before. Sverdrup and I had followed on the tracks of three suchanimals on the last day of October, and had lost them to N. N. W. Ofthe ship. Apparently they had come from that quarter now. 

"When they wanted to shoot, Peter's gun, as usual, would not go off;it had again been drenched with vaseline, and he kept calling out:'Shoot! shoot! Mine won't go off. ' Afterwards, on examining the gunI had taken with me to the fray, I found there were no cartridges init. A nice account I should have given of myself had I come on thebears alone with that weapon!

"Monday, November 5th. As I was sitting at work last night I heard adog on the deck howling fearfully. I sprang up, and found it was oneof the puppies that had touched an iron bolt with its tongue and wasfrozen fast to it. There the poor beast was, straining to get free, with its tongue stretched out so far that it looked like a thin ropeproceeding out of its throat; and it was howling piteously. Bentzen, whose watch it was, had come up, but scarcely knew what to do. Hetook hold of it, however, by the neck, and held it close to thebolt, so that its tongue was less extended. After having warmed thebolt somewhat with his hand, he managed to get the tongue free. Thepoor little puppy seemed overjoyed at its release, and, to show itsgratitude, licked Bentzen's hand with its bloody tongue, and seemedas if it could not be grateful enough to its deliverer. It is tobe hoped that it will be some time before this puppy, at any rate, gets fast again in this way; but such things happen every now and then. 

"Sunday, November 11th. I am pursuing my studies as usual day afterday; and they lure me, too, deeper and deeper into the insolublemystery that lies behind all these inquiries. Nay! why keep revolvingin this fruitless circuit of thought? Better go out into the winternight. The moon is up, great and yellow and placid; the stars aretwinkling overhead through the drifting snow-dust. . . . Why not rockyourself into a winter night's dream filled with memories of summer?

"Ugh, no! The wind is howling too shrilly over the barren ice-plains;there are 33 degrees of cold, and summer, with its flowers, is far, far away. I would give a year of my life to hold them in my embrace;they loom so far off in the distance, as if I should never come backto them. 

"But the northern lights, with their eternally shifting loveliness, flame over the heavens each day and each night. Look at them; drinkoblivion and drink hope from them: they are even as the aspiringsoul of man. Restless as it, they will wreathe the whole vault ofheaven with their glittering, fleeting light, surpassing all elsein their wild loveliness, fairer than even the blush of dawn; but, whirling idly through empty space, they bear no message of a comingday. The sailor steers his course by a star. Could you but concentrateyourselves, you too, O northern lights, might lend your aid to guidethe wildered wanderer! But dance on, and let me enjoy you; stretcha bridge across the gulf between the present and the time to come, and let me dream far, far ahead into the future. 

"O thou mysterious radiance! what art thou, and whence comest thou? Yetwhy ask? Is it not enough to admire thy beauty and pause there? Can weat best get beyond the outward show of things? What would it profiteven if we could say that it is an electric discharge or currents ofelectricity through the upper regions of the air, and were able todescribe in minutest detail how it all came to be? It would be merewords. We know no more what an electric current really is than whatthe aurora borealis is. Happy is the child. . . . We, with all our viewsand theories, are not in the last analysis a hair's-breadth nearerthe truth than it. 

"Tuesday, November 13th. Thermometer -38° C. (-36. 4° Fahr. ). The iceis packing in several quarters during the day, and the roar is prettyloud, now that the ice has become colder. It can be heard from afar--astrange roar, which would sound uncanny to any one who did not knowwhat it was. 

"A delightful snow-shoe run in the light of the full moon. Is life avale of tears? Is it such a deplorable fate to dash off like the wind, with all the dogs skipping around one, over the boundless expanse ofice, through a night like this, in the fresh, crackling frost, whilethe snow-shoes glide over the smooth surface, so that you scarcelyknow you are touching the earth, and the stars hang high in the bluevault above? This is more, indeed, than one has any right to expectof life; it is a fairy tale from another world, from a life to come. 

"And then to return home to one's cozy study-cabin, kindle the stove, light the lamp, fill a pipe, stretch one's self on the sofa, and senddreams out into the world with the curling clouds of smoke--is that adire infliction? Thus I catch myself sitting staring at the fire forhours together, dreaming myself away--a useful way of employing thetime. But at least it makes it slip unnoticed by, until the dreamsare swept away in an ice-blast of reality, and I sit here in themidst of desolation, and nervously set to work again. 

"Wednesday, November 14th. How marvellous are these snow-shoe runsthrough this silent nature! The ice-fields stretch all around, bathedin the silver moonlight; here and there dark cold shadows project fromthe hummocks, whose sides faintly reflect the twilight. Far, far outa dark line marks the horizon, formed by the packed-up ice, over ita shimmer of silvery vapor, and above all the boundless deep-blue, starry sky, where the full moon sails through the ether. But in thesouth is a faint glimmer of day low down of a dark, glowing red hue, and higher up a clear yellow and pale-green arch, that loses itselfin the blue above. The whole melts into a pure harmony, one andindescribable. At times one longs to be able to translate such scenesinto music. What mighty chords one would require to interpret them!

"Silent, oh, so silent! You can hear the vibrations of your ownnerves. I seem as if I were gliding over and over these plains intoinfinite space. Is this not an image of what is to come? Eternity andpeace are here. Nirvana must be cold and bright as such an eternalstar-night. What are all our research and understanding in the midstof this infinity?

"Friday, November 16th. In the forenoon I went out with Sverdrup onsnow-shoes in the moonlight, and we talked seriously of the prospectsof our drift and of the proposed expedition northward over the ice inthe spring. In the evening we went into the matter more thoroughly inhis cabin. I stated my views, in which he entirely coincided. I haveof late been meditating a great deal on what is the proper courseto pursue, supposing the drift does not take us so far north by themonth of March as I had anticipated. But the more I think of it, themore firmly am I persuaded that it is the thing to do. For if it beright to set out at 85°, it must be no less right to set out at 82°or 83°. In either case we should penetrate into more northerly regionsthan we should otherwise reach, and this becomes all the more desirableif the Fram herself does not get so far north as we had hoped. If wecannot actually reach the Pole, why, we must turn back before reachingit. The main consideration, as I must constantly repeat, is not toreach that exact mathematical point, but to explore the unknown partsof the Polar Sea, whether these be near to or more remote from thePole. I said this before setting out, and I must keep it continuallyin mind. Certainly there are many important observations to be made onboard during the further drift of the ship, many which I would dearlylike to carry on myself; but all the more important of these will bemade equally well here, even though two of our number leave the ship;and there can scarcely be any doubt that the observations we shallmake farther north will not many times outweigh in value those Icould have made during the remainder of the time on board. So far, then, it is absolutely desirable that we set out. 

"Then comes the question: What is the best time to start? That thespring--March, at the latest--is the only season for such a venturethere can be no doubt at all. But shall it be next spring? Suppose, at the worst, we have not advanced farther than to 83° north latitudeand 110° east longitude; then something might be said for waiting tillthe spring of 1896; but I cannot but think that we should thus in allprobability let slip the propitious moment. The drifting could not beso wearingly slow but that after another year had elapsed we shouldbe far beyond the point from which the sledge expedition ought to setout. If I measure the distance we have drifted from November of lastyear with the compasses, and mark off the same distance ahead, by nextNovember we should be north of Franz Josef Land, and a little beyondit. It is conceivable, of course, that we were no farther advanced inFebruary, 1896, either; but it is more likely, from all I can makeout, that the drift will increase rather than diminish as we workwestward, and, consequently, in February, 1896, we should have gottoo far; while, even if one could imagine a better starting-pointthan that which the Fram will possibly offer us by March 1, 1895, it will, at all events, be a possible one. It must, consequently, be the safest plan not to wait for another spring. 

"Such, then, are the prospects before us of pushing through. Thedistance from this proposed starting-point to Cape Fligely, which is the nearest known land, I set down at about 370 miles, [72] consequently not much more than the distance we covered inGreenland; and that would be easy work enough over this ice, even ifit did become somewhat bad towards land. If once a coast is reached, any reasonable being can surely manage to subsist by hunting, whetherlarge or small game, whether bears or sandhoppers. Thus we can alwaysmake for Cape Fligely or Petermann's Land, which lies north of it, if our situation becomes untenable. The distance will, of course, beincreased the farther we advance northward, but at no point whateverbetween here and the Pole is it greater than we can and will manage, with the help of our dogs. 'A line of retreat' is therefore secured, though there are those doubtless who hold that a barren coast, whereyou must first scrape your food together before you can eat it, is a poor retreat for hungry men; but that is really an advantage, for such a retreat would not be too alluring. A wretched invention, forsooth, for people who wish to push on is a 'line of retreat'--aneverlasting inducement to look behind, when they should have enoughto do in looking ahead. 

"But now for the expedition itself. It will consist of 28 dogs, two men, and 2100 pounds of provisions and equipments. The distanceto the Pole from 83° is 483 miles. Is it too much to calculate thatwe may be able to accomplish that distance in 50 days? I do not ofcourse know what the staying powers of the dogs may be; but that, with two men to help, they should be able to do 9 1/2 miles a daywith 75 pounds each for the first few days, sounds sufficientlyreasonable, even if they are not very good ones. This, then, canscarcely be called a wild calculation, always, of course, supposingthe ice to be as it is here, and there is no reason why it shouldnot be. Indeed, it steadily improves the farther north we get; andit also improves with the approach of spring. In 50 days, then, weshould reach the Pole (in 65 days we went 345 miles over the inlandice of Greenland at an elevation of more than 8000 feet, withoutdogs and with defective provisions, and could certainly have goneconsiderably farther). In 50 days we shall have consumed a pound ofpemmican a day for each dog [73]--that is, 1400 pounds altogether;and 2 pounds of provisions for each man daily is 200 pounds. Assome fuel also will have been consumed during this time, the freighton the sledges will have diminished to less than 500 pounds; but aburden like this is nothing for 28 dogs to draw, so that they oughtto go ahead like a gale of wind during the latter part of the time, and thus do it in less than the 50 days. However, let us supposethat it takes this time. If all has gone well, we shall now directour course for the Seven Islands, north of Spitzbergen. That is 9°, or 620 miles. But if we are not in first-rate condition it will besafer to make for Cape Fligely or the land to the north of it. Let ussuppose we decide on this route. We set out from the Fram on March1st (if circumstances are favorable, we should start sooner), andtherefore arrive at the Pole April 30th. We shall have 500 pounds ofour provisions left, enough for another 50 days; but we can spare nonefor the dogs. We must, therefore, begin killing some of them, eitherfor food for the others or for ourselves, giving our provisions tothem. Even if my figures are somewhat too low, I may assume that bythe time twenty-three dogs have been killed we shall have travelled41 days, and still have five dogs left. How far south shall we haveadvanced in this time? The weight of baggage was, to begin with, lessthan 500 pounds--that is to say, less than 18 pounds for each dogto draw. After 41 days this will at least have been reduced to 280pounds (by the consumption of provisions and fuel and by dispensingwith sundry articles of our equipment, such as sleeping-bags, tent, etc. , etc. , which will have become superfluous). There remain, then, 56 pounds for each of the five dogs, if we draw nothing ourselves;and should it be desirable, our equipment might be still furtherdiminished. With a burden of from 18 to 56 pounds apiece (the latterwould only be towards the end), the dogs would on an average be able todo 13-4/5 miles a day, even if the snow-surface should become somewhatmore difficult. That is to say, we shall have gone 565 miles to thesouth, or we shall be 18 1/2 miles past Cape Fligely, on June 1st, with five dogs and nine days' provisions left. But it is probable, in the first place, that we shall long before this have reached land;and, secondly, so early as the first half of April the Austrians foundopen water by Cape Fligely and abundance of birds. Consequently, in May and June we should have no difficulty as regards food, notto mention that it would be strange indeed if we had not before thattime met with a bear or a seal or some stray birds. 

"That we should now be pretty safe I consider as certain, and we canchoose whichever route we please: either along the northwest coastof Franz Josef Land, by Gillis Land towards Northeast Island andSpitzbergen (and, should circumstances prove favorable, this woulddecidedly be my choice), or we can go south through Austria Soundtowards the south coast of Franz Josef Land, and thence to NovayaZemlya or Spitzbergen, the latter by preference. We may, of course, find Englishmen on Franz Josef Land, but that we must not reckon on. 

"Such, then, is my calculation. Have I made it recklessly? No, I thinknot. The only thing would be if during the latter part of the journey, in May, we should find the surface like what we had here last spring, at the end of May, and should be considerably delayed by it. Butthis would only be towards the very end of our time, and at worst itcould not be entirely impassable. Besides, it would be strange if wecould not manage to average 11 1/2 miles a day during the whole of thejourney, with an average load for each dog of from 30 to 40 pounds--itwould not be more. However, if our calculations should prove faulty, we can always, as aforesaid, turn back at any moment. 

 "What unforeseen obstacles may confront us?

 "1. The ice may be more impracticable than was supposed. "2. We may meet with land. "3. The dogs may fail us, may sicken, or freeze to death. "4. We ourselves may suffer from scurvy. 

"1 and 2. That the ice may be more impracticable farther north iscertainly possible, but hardly probable. I can see no reason whyit should be, unless we have unknown lands to the north. But shouldthis be so--very well, we must take what chance we find. The ice canscarcely be altogether impassable. Even Markham was able to advancewith his scurvy-smitten people. And the coasts of this land maypossibly be advantageous for an advance; it simply depends on theirdirection and extent. It is difficult to say anything beforehand, except that I think the depth of water we have here and the driftof the ice render it improbable that we can have land of any extentat all close at hand. In any case, there must, somewhere or other, be a passage for the ice, and at the worst we can follow that passage. 

"3. There is always a possibility that the dogs may fail us, but, as may be seen, I have not laid out any scheme of excessive workfor them. And even if one or two of them should prove failures, thatcould not be the case with all. With the food they have hitherto hadthey have got through the winter and the cold without mishap, and thefood they will get on the journey will be better. In my calculations, moreover, I have taken no account of what we shall draw ourselves. And, even supposing all the dogs to fail us, we could manage to get alongby ourselves pretty well. 

"4. The worst event would undeniably be that we ourselves shouldbe attacked by scurvy; and, notwithstanding our excellent health, such a contingency is quite conceivable when it is borne in mind howin the English North Pole Expedition all the men, with the exceptionof the officers, suffered from scurvy when the spring and the sledgejourneys began, although as long as they were on board ship they hadnot the remotest suspicion that anything of the kind was lying inwait for them. As far, however, as we are concerned, I consider thiscontingency very remote. In the first place, the English expeditionwas remarkably unfortunate, and hardly any others can show a similarexperience, although they may have undertaken sledge journeys ofequal lengths--for example, M'Clintock's. During the retreat of theJeannette party, so far as is known, no one was attacked with scurvy;Peary and Astrup did not suffer from scurvy either. Moreover, oursupply of provisions has been more carefully selected, and offersgreater variety than has been the case in former expeditions, notone of which has enjoyed such perfect health as ours. I scarcelythink, therefore, that we should take with us from the Fram anygerms of scurvy; and as regards the provisions for the sledge journeyitself, I have taken care that they shall consist of good all-round, nutritious articles of food, so that I can scarcely believe that theywould be the means of developing an attack of this disease. Of course, one must run some risk; but in my opinion all possible precautionshave been taken, and, when that is done, it is one's duty to go ahead. 

"There is yet another question that must be taken intoconsideration. Have I the right to deprive the ship and those whoremain behind of the resources such an expedition entails? The factthat there will be two men less is of little importance, for theFram can be handled quite as well with eleven men. A more importantpoint is that we shall have to take with us all the dogs except theseven puppies; but they are amply supplied with sledge provisions andfirst-class sledge equipments on board, and it is inconceivable thatin case anything happened to the Fram they should be unable to reachFranz Josef Land or Spitzbergen. It is scarcely likely that in casethey had to abandon her it would be farther north than 85°; probablynot even so far north. But suppose they were obliged to abandon herat 85°, it would probably be about north of Franz Josef Land, whenthey would be 207 miles from Cape Fligely; or if farther to the eastit would be some 276 miles from the Seven Islands, and it is hardto believe that they could not manage a distance like that with ourequipments. Now, as before, I am of opinion that the Fram will inall probability drift right across the polar basin and out on theother side without being stopped, and without being destroyed; buteven if any accident should occur, I do not see why the crew shouldnot be able to make their way home in safety, provided due measuresof precaution are observed. Consequently, I think there is no reasonwhy a sledge expedition should not leave the Fram, and I feel thatas it promises such good results it ought certainly to be attempted. "

 END OF VOL. I

NOTES

[1] Frost-giants. 

[2] First Crossing of Greenland, Vol. I. , p. 30. 

[3] Mr. Lytzen, of Julianehaab, afterwards contributed an article tothe Geografisk Tidsskrift (8th Vol. , 1885-86, pp. 49-51, Copenhagen), in which he expressed himself, so far at least as I understandhim, in the same sense, and, remarkably enough, suggested that thiscircumstance might possibly be found to have an important bearing onArctic exploration. He says: "It will therefore be seen that polarexplorers who seek to advance towards the Pole from the SiberianSea will probably at one place or another be hemmed in by the ice, but these masses of ice will be carried by the current along theGreenland coast. It is not, therefore, altogether impossible that, if the ship of such an expedition is able to survive the pressureof the masses of ice for any length of time, it will arrive safelyat South Greenland; but in that case it must be prepared to spendseveral years on the way. "

[4] See on this point Dr. Y. Nielsen, in Forhandlinger iVidenskabsselskabet i Christiania. Meeting held June 11, 1886. 

[5] Since writing the above I have tried to make such a calculation, and have come to the conclusion that the aggregate rainfall is notso large as I had at first supposed. See my paper in The NorwegianGeographical Society's Annual, III. , 1891-92, p. 95; and TheGeographical Journal, London, 1893, p. 5. 

[6] The discovery during our expedition of a great depth in the polarbasin renders it highly probable that this assumption is correct. 

[7] The experience of our expedition, however, does not point to anysuch eastward-flowing current along the Siberian coast. 

[8] I first thought of choosing the route through Bering Strait, because I imagined that I could reach the New Siberian Islands saferand earlier in the year from that side. On further investigationI found that this was doubtful, and I decided on the shorter routethrough the Kara Sea and north of Cape Cheliuskin. 

[9] As subsequently stated in my lecture in London (GeographicalSociety's Journal, p. 18), I purposed to go north along the west coastof the New Siberian Islands, as I thought that the warm water comingfrom the Lena would keep the sea open here. 

[10] See the Society's Annual, III. , 1892, p. 91. 

[11] Both my lecture and the discussion are printed in The GeographicalJournal, London, 1893, Vol. I. , pp. 1-32. 

[12] After our return home, Admiral Nares, in the most chivalrousfashion, sent me a letter of congratulation, in which he said thatthe Fram's remarkable voyage over the Polar Sea proved that my theorywas correct and his scepticism unfounded. 

[13] With reference to his statement that Leigh-Smith had observedsuch icebergs on the northwest coast of Franz Josef Land, it may beremarked that no human being has ever been there. 

[14] Nearly £25, 000. 

[15] This oil, by means of a specially constructed steam-jet apparatus, was injected into the furnaces in the form of a fine spray, whereit burned in a very economical and saving manner, giving forth agreat amount of heat. The apparatus was one which has been applied tolocomotives in England, whence it was procured. It appeared, however, that it tended to overheat the boiler at one particular point, whereit made a dent, so that we soon abandoned this method of firing. 

[16] I had thought of procuring dogs from the Eskimo of Greenlandand Hudson Bay, but there proved to be insuperable difficulties inthe way of getting them conveyed from there. 

[17] These depots were arranged most carefully, and every precaution sowell taken that we certainly should not have suffered from famine hadwe gone there. In the northernmost depot at Stan Durnova on the westcoast of Kotelnoi, at 75° 37' N. L. , we should have found provisionsfor a week; with these we could easily have made our way 65 milessouthward along the coast to the second depot at Urassalach, where, in a house built by Baron Von Toll in 1886, we should have foundprovisions for a whole month. Lastly, a third depot in a house on thesouth side of Little Liakhoff Island, with provisions for two months, would have enabled us to reach the mainland with ease. 

[18] Both Hovland, who piloted us from Christiania to Bergen, and JohanHågensen, who took us from Bergen to Vardö, were most kindly placedat the disposal of the expedition by the Nordenfjeldske SteamshipCompany, of Trondhjem. 

[19] English in the original. 

[20] English in the original. 

[21] The ordinary male dog is liable to get inflammation of thescrotum from the friction of the trace. 

[22] Yassak is a tax paid in fur by the Siberians. 

[23] This disease is probably anthrax, or something of the same nature

[24] By this he probably means our organ. Our other musical instrumentswere as follows: An accordion, belonging to the ship, and a flute, violin, and several Jew's-harps, belonging to one of the ship'scompany. 

[25] It will be observed that there is some slip of memory here--itwas the evening before. 

[26] It was, in fact, the day after. 

[27] I do not believe that Christofersen ever in his life had anythingto do with a London newspaper. 

[28] There is a white reflection from white ice, so that the sky abovefields of ice has a light or whitish appearance; wherever there isopen water it is blue or dark. In this way the Arctic navigator canjudge by the appearance of the sky what is the state of the sea ata considerable distance. 

[29] It is true that in his account of the voyage he expressly statesthat the continued very thick fog "prevented us from doing more thanmapping out most vaguely the islands among and past which the Vegasought her way. "

[30] Later, when I had investigated the state of matters outsideNordenskiöld's Taimur Island, it seemed to me that the same remarkapplied here with even better reason, as no sledge expedition couldgo round the coast of this island without seeing Almquist's Islands, which lie so near, for instance, to Cape Lapteff, that they oughtto be seen even in very thick weather. It would be less excusableto omit marking these islands, which are much larger, than to omitthe small ones lying off the coast of the large island (or as I nowconsider it, group of large islands) we were at present skirting. 

[31] In his account of his voyage Nordenskiöld writes as follows ofthe condition of this channel: "We were met by only small quantitiesof that sort of ice which has a layer of fresh-water ice on the topof the salt, and we noticed that it was all melting fjord or riverice. I hardly think that we came all day on a single piece of icebig enough to have cut up a seal upon. "

[32] Peter Henriksen. 

[33] This silk bag-net is intended to be dragged after a boat or shipto catch the living animals or plant organisms at various depths. Weused them constantly during our drifting, sinking them to differentdepths under the ice, and they often brought up rich spoils. 

[34] This phosphorescence is principally due to small luminouscrustacea (Copepoda). 

[35] Markham's account gives us to understand that on the north sideof Grinnell Land he came across hummocks which measured 43 feet. Ido not feel at all certain that these were not in reality icebergs;but it is no doubt possible that such hummocks might be formed byviolent pressure against land or something resembling it. After ourexperience, however, I cannot believe in the possibility of theiroccurring in open sea. 

[36] On a later occasion they bored down 30 feet without reachingthe lower surface of the ice. 

[37] When we had fire in the stoves later, especially during thefollowing winter, there was not a sign of damp anywhere--neitherin saloon nor small cabins. It was, if anything, rather too dry, for the panels of the walls and roof dried and shrank considerably. 

[38] Apparently modelled on the title of the well-known magazine, Kringsjaa, which means "A Look Around" or "Survey. " Framsjaa mightbe translated "The Fram's Lookout. "

[39] The name Peter Henriksen generally went by on board. 

[40] Refers to the fact that Amundsen hated card-playing more thananything else in the world. He called cards "the devil's playbooks. "

[41] Nickname of our meteorologist, Johansen, Professor Mohn beinga distinguished Norwegian meteorologist. 

[42] This signature proved to be forged, and gave rise to a lawsuitso long and intricate that space does not permit an account of it tobe given. 

[43] He says "ei borsja" for "a gun" instead of "en bosse. "

[44] This was the nickname of the starboard four-berth cabin. 

[45] A Norwegian newspaper. 

[46] In spite of this bending of the strata, the surface of the iceand snow remained even. 

[47] So we called some light trousers of thin close cotton, which weused as a protection against the wind and snow. 

[48] This gull is often called by this name, after its firstdiscoverer. It has acquired its other name, "rose gull, " from itspink color. 

[49] Up to now they had their kennels on deck. 

[50] The anniversary of the Norwegian Constitution. 

[51] Without the mark of the "union" with Sweden. 

[52] "Normal arbeidsdage" = normal working-day. 

[53] The pet name of the cooking-range in the galley. 

[54] Up to this day I am not quite clear as to what these emblems wereintended to signify. That the doctor, from want of practice, wouldhave been glad of a normal day's work ("normal Arbeidsdag") can readilybe explained, but why the meteorologists should cry out for universalsuffrage passes my comprehension. Did they want to overthrow despotism?

[55] With reference to the resolution of the Storthing, on June9, 1880. 

[56] It was seal, walrus, and bear's flesh from last autumn, which wasused for the dogs. During the winter it had been hung up in the ship, and was still quite fresh. But henceforth it was stored on the iceuntil, before autumn set in, it was consumed. It is remarkable howwell meat keeps in these regions. On June 28th we had reindeer-steakfor dinner that we had killed on the Siberian coast in September ofthe previous year. 

[57] The same kind of dust that I found on the ice on the east coast ofGreenland, which is mentioned in the Introduction to this book, p. 39. 

[58] This dust, which is to be seen in summer on the upper surfaceof almost all polar ice of any age, is no doubt, for the most part, dust that hovers in the earth's atmosphere. It probably descends withthe falling snow, and gradually accumulates into a surface layer asthe snow melts during the summer. Larger quantities of mud, however, are also often to be found on the ice, which strongly resemble thisdust in color, but are doubtless more directly connected with land, being formed on floes that have originally lain in close proximityto it. (Compare Wissensch. Ergebnisse von Dr. F. Nansens Durchquerungvon Grönland. Ergänzungsheft No. 105 zu Petermanns Mittheilungen. )

[59] I have not yet had time to examine them closely. 

[60] We always had a line, with a net at the end, hanging out, inorder to see the direction we were drifting, or to ascertain whetherthere was any perceptible current in the water. 

[61] The name given to the cooking-stove. 

[62] It was two years later to a day that the Fram put in at Skjervö, on the coast of Norway. 

[63] During the summer we had made a kitchen of the chart-room ondeck, because of the good daylight there; and, besides, the galleyproper was to be cleaned and painted. 

[64] Pettersen had been advanced from smith to cook, and he and Juelltook turns of a fortnight each in the galley. 

[65] "Twilight of the gods. "

[66] See Geographical Journal, London, 1893. See also the map inNaturen, 1890, and the Norwegian Geographical Society's Year Book, I. , 1890. 

[67] These were the puppies born on December 13, 1893; only four ofthem were now alive. 

[68] We had no covering over the ship the first winter, as we thoughtit would make it so dark, and make it difficult to find one's wayabout on deck. But when we put in on the second winter we found thatit was an improvement. 

[69] An allusion, no doubt, to his political opinions (Trans. ). 

[70] This luminous veil, which was always spread over the sky, was lessdistinct on the firmament immediately overhead, but became more andmore conspicuous near the horizon, though it never actually reacheddown to it; indeed, in the north and south it generally terminatedin a low, faintly outlined arch over a kind of dark segment. Theluminosity of this veil was so strong that through it I could neverwith any certainty distinguish the Milky Way. 

[71] Used in hoisting up the lead-line. 

[72] There must be an error here, as the distance to Cape Fligely fromthe point proposed, 83° north latitude and 110° east longitude, isquite 460 miles. I had probably taken the longitude as 100° insteadof 110°. 

[73] During the actual expedition the dogs had to be content witha much smaller daily ration, on an average scarcely more than 9 or10 ounces.