Chapter IX.Nansen and Johansen start on a Sleighing Expedition.—Reach Eighty-six Degrees, Fourteen Minutes, North Latitude.—Winter in Franz Joseph’s Land.March 17, 1895, was a memorable day in the Fram’s history, for it was on that date that Nansen and Johansen set out on the most adventurous expedition ever undertaken in the polar sea. At the time of leaving the ship, she was in eighty-four degrees north latitude.On quitting her they fired a salute on board with all their guns as a farewell; and, though the lads on the Fram kept their spirits up bravely, every eye was full of tears, something quite uncommon with them: and they watched their two adventurous comrades, with their sleighs and dogs, as they set off toward the Pole, till they were lost to sight among the hummocks.The ice was terribly difficult, and they had a wearisome march over it; and, to make matters worse, a southerly drift set in, driving them nearly as far back as they advanced. However, they got on pretty well till reaching eighty-five degrees north latitude, when another back drift set in, lasting, indeed, without intermission during the whole of the expedition. The dogs, too, got worn out, and had to be killed one after the other; while, to add to their discomfort, their clothes would get frozen so stiff during the day that they hadto thaw them in their sleeping-bags at night with the warmth of their bodies. Very often they were so tired in the evening that they would fall asleep with the food in their hands. Their expedition, too, haunted them in their sleep; and often Nansen would be awakened by hearing Johansen call out in the night, “Pan!” “Barabbas!” or “The whole sleigh is going over!” or “Sass-sass,” “Prr!” Lappish words to make the dogs quicken their pace or to halt.Nansen and Johansen leaving the Fram.Nansen and Johansen leaving the Fram.It was sorrowful work to have to kill these faithful animals when they were worn out. Nansen himself says that he often felt the bitterest self-reproaches, andconfessed that this expedition seemed to destroy all the better feelings of his nature. But forward they must go, and forward they went, though their progress was very slow.It was not long before Nansen became convinced that it would be an utter impossibility to reach the Pole through such masses of pack-ice and hummocks as they encountered. The question, therefore, was how far they should venture toward it before turning their faces southward.On Monday, April 8, they had reached eighty-six degrees, ten minutes, north latitude (though it subsequently turned out to be eighty-six degrees, fourteen minutes, north latitude, that renowned degree of latitude that became historical when the news of the Nansen expedition was flashed all over the world), and determined to go on no farther. So, on the day following, they changed their course to the south. The going improved a little as they travelled on. As far as the eye could reach huge masses of ice towered aloft toward the north, while toward the south the ice became each day more favorable, a circumstance that cheered them up not a little.On Sunday, May 5, they were in eighty-four degrees, thirty-one minutes, north latitude, and on the 17th, in eighty-three degrees, thirty minutes, north latitude.They found it very hard work crossing the open channels in the ice; and what made it harder was that the number of their dogs diminished daily, one after another having to be killed as food for the survivors. It was absolutely necessary, however, to reach a latitudewhere game could be procured, before their stock of provisions gave out.On May 19 they came on the tracks of a bear, but did not see the animal itself. Tracks of foxes they had already seen when in eighty-five degrees north latitude.It seemed as if there was no end to these channels which must be crossed, and of the young ice which made hauling the sleighs such terribly hard work. Moreover, soon they would have no dogs left to help them, and they would have to drag the sleighs themselves.May passed and June set in, and still no end to the channels or to their excessive hard work, and not a glimpse of land to be seen yet. Every now and then a narwhal would be seen, or a seal, heralds, doubtless, that they were approaching the regions of animated nature. The ice, too, no longer hard and smooth, became regular slush, so that it clogged on the under surface of their ski, and strained to the utmost the poor dogs, who could hardly drag their loads after them. Everything, indeed, seemed against them! Three months had elapsed since quitting the Fram, and as yet they had met with no change for the better.On June 16 Kaifas, Haren, and Suggen were the sole survivors of the pack, and Nansen and Johansen had to do dogs’ work themselves in dragging the sleighs.But a turn for the better set in. On the 22d, as they were rowing the kayaks over some open water, they were fortunate enough to shoot a large seal. Its flesh lasted them a good while, and indeed proved a great godsend, though they did set fire to the tent while fryingblood pancakes in blubber—a mere trifle, however, on such an expedition as theirs! They soon mended it with one of the sleigh sails, and the blood pancakes were voted to be delicious. On the 24th Nansen shot another seal, an event duly celebrated with great festivity; viz., a supperofchocolate and blubber.On June 30 Nansen discovered, to his great chagrin, that they had advanced no farther south than they were a month ago, and it began to dawn upon him that in all probability they would have to winter up there—a pleasant prospect, forsooth! Their stock of provisions was nearly exhausted, and only three dogs left.On July 6 they shot three bears, so that all anxiety as regards food was happily at end for the time; though the prospect of reaching home that year, at least, was infinitesimally small.On Tuesday, July 23, they finally broke up “Longing Camp,” as they termed their quarters, and devoted all their energies to their journey homeward.The next day they saw land for the first time. Through the telescope its hazy outline could be discerned; but it took them a fortnight to reach it, and when they did reach it, they were so exhausted that they had to lie up several days.During this time Johansen was nearly killed by a bear. Nansen tells the story:—“After some very hard work we at last reached an open channel in the ice which we had to cross in our kayaks. I had just got mine ready, and was holding it to prevent its sliding down into the water, when I heard a scuffle going on behind me; and Johansen, who wasdragging his sleigh, called out, ‘Get your gun!’ I looked round, and saw a huge bear dash at him, and knock him down on his back. I made a grab at my gun, which was in its case on the foredeck; but at the same moment my kayak unfortunately slipped down into the water. My first impulse was to jump in after it, and shoot from the deck; but it was too risky a venture to attempt, so I set to work to haul it up on the ice again as quickly as I could. But it was so heavy that I had to kneel down on one knee, pulling and hauling and struggling to get hold of the gun, without even time to turn around and see what was going on behind me. Presently I heard Johansen say very calmly, ‘If you don’t look sharp, it will be too late.’ Look sharp! I should think I did look sharp! At last I got hold of the butt-end of the gun, drew it out of its case, whipped round in a sitting posture, and cocked one of the barrels which was loaded with shot. Meanwhile the bear stood there scarcely a yard away from me, and was on the point of doing for Kaifas. I had no time to cock the other barrel, so I gave it the whole charge of shot behind the ear, and the brute fell dead between us.“The bear must have followed on our tracks like a cat, and hiding behind blocks of ice, have slunk after us while we were busy clearing the loose ice away in the channel, with our backs turned toward it. We could see by its tracks that it had wormed its way on its stomach over a ridge in our rear, under cover of an ice-mound in close proximity to Johansen’s kayak.“While Johansen, without of course suspecting anything, or even looking behind him, was stooping downto lay hold of the hauling-rope, he got a glimpse of some animal lying in a crouching posture at the stern of the kayak. He thought at first it was only the dog Suggen; but before he had time to notice how large it was, he received a blow over the right ear that made him ‘silly,’ and over he went on his back. He now tried to defend himself the best he could with his bare fists, and with one hand gripped the brute by the throat, never once relaxing his hold.“Just as the bear was about to bite him on the head, he uttered those memorable words, ‘Look sharp!’ The bear kept watching me intently, wondering no doubt what I was up to, when all at once it happily caught sight of one of the dogs, and immediately turned toward it. Johansen now let go his hold of the brute’s throat, and wriggled himself away, while the bear gave poor Suggen a smack with his paw that made him howl as he used to do when he got a thrashing. Kaifas, too, got a smack on the nose. Meanwhile Johansen had got on his feet, and just as I fired had got hold of his gun, which was sticking up out of the hole in the kayak. The only damage done was that the bear had scraped a little of the grime and dirt off Johansen’s right cheek, so that he goes with a white stripe on it now, besides a scratch on one hand. Kaifas, too, had his nose scratched.”On reaching land they had to shoot Kaifas and Suggen, the sole survivors of their twenty-six faithful companions. It was a hard task. Johansen took Nansen’s dog Kaifas in a leash behind a hummock, while Nansen did the same with Johansen’s Suggen. Their two guns went off simultaneously, and the two men stood friendless,alone in the desert of ice. They did not say many words to each other on meeting.Along the coast of the land they discovered there was open water, of which they availed themselves, first lashing their kayaks together so that they formed in fact a double kayak.They rowed for several days, and were fortunate enough to shoot a walrus; but they had no idea what land it was, or where they were.One evening, however, the channel closed up, and no more open water was to be found. But on Aug. 13 it opened up again, and they were able to push on. After twenty-four hours it closed once more, and they had to drag the kayaks on the sleigh overland. On the evening of Aug. 18 they reached one of the islands they had been steering for, and for the first time for two years had bare earth under their feet. Here they revelled in “the joys of country life,”—now jumping over the rocks, or gathering moss and specimens of the flora, etc.,—and hoisted the Norwegian flag.In its summer dress this northern land seemed to them to be a perfect paradise; plenty of seals, sea-birds, flowers, and mud—and in front the blue sea.They were, therefore, loath to leave it, but onward they must proceed, if they wished to reach home that autumn. But fate willed it otherwise.They soon encountered ice again—nothing but ice—bare ice as far as the eye could reach. After waiting a considerable time, they once more had open water,of which they took advantage by hoisting a sail; but at the end of twenty-four hours their course was again blocked—a block that decided their future movements materially; for they were compelled to winter there!It may readily be supposed that this was not only a terrible disappointment, but a severe trial to our two arctic navigators. After all their labor and exertion, after reaching open water, and buoying themselves up, with the hope that their struggles would soon be over, to find that hope shattered, and their plans rendered abortive, and that they must perforce be imprisoned in the ice for months, was enough to make them lose heart altogether. But when once they realized their position, they acted like men, and set to work to build a stone hut, on the roof and floor of which they stretched bear hides. They succeeded in shooting several walruses, the blubber of which provided them with fuel, so that they might have been in a worse plight than they were. Still, it was not altogether pleasant to have to lie in a stone hut during a polar winter, with the thermometer down to -40 Fahrenheit, without any other food than bears’ flesh and blubber. Indeed, it required the constitution of a giant to endure it, and unyielding determination not to lose heart altogether.By working for a week, they finished the walls of their abode, and after getting the roof on, moved into it. They made a great heap of blubber of the walruses they shot outside the hut, covering it over with walrus hides. This was their fuel store. It served of course to attract bears, which was an advantage; and many a one paid the penalty of his appetite by being shot. At first theyfound it very uncomfortable at night, so they both slept in one sleeping-bag, and thus kept tolerably warm. But the climax of their joy was building in the roof a chimney of ice to let out the smoke of their fire. They had no other materials to make it out of. It answered capitally, however, having only one drawback; viz., that it readily melted. But there was no lack of ice for making another.Their cuisine was simple in the extreme, and strangely enough they never got tired of their food. Whatever came to hand, flesh or blubber, they ate readily, and sometimes, when a longing for fatty food, as was often the case, came over them, they would fish pieces of blubber out of the lamps, and eat them with great relish. They called these burnt pieces biscuits; and “if there had only been a little sugar sprinkled on them, they would have tasted deliciously,” they said.During the course of this winter the foxes proved very troublesome. They gnawed holes in the roof, stole instruments, wire, harpoons, and a thermometer. Luckily they had a spare one, so that the register of the temperature did not suffer. They were principally white foxes that visited them; but occasionally they saw the blue fox, and would dearly have liked to shoot some specimens of that beautiful animal, only that they feared their ammunition would not hold out. They shot their last bear on Oct. 21, after which they saw no more till the following spring.It was a long, tedious winter; the weather generally very boisterous, with drifting snowstorms. But every now and then fine weather would set in, when the starswould shine with great brilliancy, and wondrously beautiful displays of the aurora borealis would lighten up the whole scene.Another Christmas Eve arrived, the third they had spent in the polar regions; but this was the dreariest and gloomiest of them all. However, they determined to celebrate it, which they did by reversing their shirts. Then they ate fish-meal with train-oil instead of butter, and for a second course toasted bread and blubber. On Christmas morning they treated themselves to chocolate and bread.On New Year’s Day, 1896, there were -41° of cold (Fahrenheit), and all Nansen’s finger-tips were frost-bitten. Out there on that dreary headland their thoughts wandered away to their home, where they pictured to themselves all the Christmas joy and festivity that would be taking place, the flakes of snow falling gently out-of-doors, and the happy faces of their dear ones within.“The road to the stars is long and heavy!”Nansen and Johansen slept during the greater part of that long winter. Sometimes, like bears in their winter quarters, they would sleep for twenty-four hours at a stretch, when there was nothing particular to be done. Spring, however, returned at last, and the birds began to reappear on their northerly flight. The polar bears, too, revisited their hut, so they got plenty of fresh meat. The first bear they killed acted very daringly. Johansen was on the point of going out of the hut one day,when he started back, crying out, “There’s a bear just outside!” Snatching up his gun, he put his head out of the door of the hut, but instantly withdrew it. “It is close by, and means coming in.” Then he put his gun out again, and fired. The shot took effect, and the wounded beast made off for some rocky ground. After a long pursuit Nansen came up with it, and shot it in a snowdrift. It rolled over and over like a ball, and fell dead close to his feet. Its flesh lasted them six weeks.On May 19 they broke up their winter camp, and proceeded over the ice in a southerly direction, meeting with long stretches of level young ice, making also good use of their sail, and finally reached open water on Friday, June 12. They now lashed the two kayaks together, forming a double kayak, and set out to sea with a favorable breeze, feeling not a little elated; and in the evening lay to at the edge of the ice to rest, having first moored the kayaks with a rope, and then got up on a hummock to reconnoitre. Presently Johansen was heard to shout out, “The kayaks are adrift!” Down they both of them rushed as fast as they could.“Here, take my watch!” cried Nansen, handing it to Johansen, while he divested himself of his outer garments, and jumped into the water.Meanwhile the kayaks had drifted a considerable distance. It was absolutely necessary to overtake them, for their loss meant—death.But we will let Nansen tell the story:—“When I got tired, I turned over on my back, and then I could see Johansen walking incessantly to and fro on the ice. Poor fellow! he could not stand still;he felt it was so dreadful to be unable to do anything. Moreover, he did not entertain, he told me, much hope of my being able to reach them. However, it would not have mended matters had he jumped in after me. They were the worst minutes, he said, he had ever passed in all his life.“But when I turned over again and began swimming once more, I saw that I was perceptibly gaining on the kayaks, and this made me redouble my exertions. My limbs, however, were now becoming so numb and stiff that I felt I couldn’t go on much longer. But I wasn’t far off the kayaks now; if I could only manage to hold out a little longer, we were saved—and on I went. My strokes kept getting shorter and feebler every instant, but still I was gaining, and hoped to be able to come up with them. At last I got hold of a ski that lay athwart the bows, and clutched onto the kayaks. We were saved! but when I tried to get aboard, my limbs were so cold and stiff that I couldn’t manage it. For a moment I feared it was too late after all, and that although I had got thus far, I should never be able to get on board. So I waited a moment to rest, and after a great deal of difficulty, succeeded in getting one leg up on the edge of the sleigh that was lying on the deck, and so got on board, but so exhausted that I found it hard work to use the paddle.”When Nansen at last got the kayaks back to the edge of the ice, he changed his wet clothes, and was put to bed on the ice, that is to say, in the sleeping-bag, by Johansen, who threw a sail over him, and made him some warm drink, which soon restored the circulation.But when he told Johansen to go and fetch the two auks he had shot as he was rowing the kayaks back, the latter burst out laughing, and said, “I thought you had gone clean mad when you shot.”On Monday, June 15, Nansen’s life was a second time in jeopardy. They were rowing after walruses, when one of the creatures bobbed up close by Nansen’s kayak, and stuck its tusks through the side. Nansen hit it over the head with the paddle, whereon the brute let go his hold and disappeared.But the kayak very nearly foundered, and was only hauled up on the ice as it was on the point of sinking.This was the last perilous adventure on this marvellous expedition.Chapter X.Meeting with Jackson.—Return to Norway on the Windward.—Fram Returns to Norway.—Royal Welcome Home.It was June 17, Henrik Wergeland’s1birthday. Nansen had been down to the edge of the ice to fetch some salt water, and had got up on a hummock in order to have a good look about. A brisk breeze was blowing off land, bearing with it the confused sound of bird-cries from the distant rocks. As he stood listening to these sounds of life in that wild desert, which he thought no human eye had ever seen, or human foot trodden before, a noise like the bark of a dog fell on his ear. He started with amazement.Could there be dogs here? Impossible! He must have been mistaken. It must have been the bird-cries! But no—there it was again! First a single bark, then the full cry of a whole pack. There was a deep bark, succeeded by a sharper one. There could be no doubt about it! Then he remembered that only the day before he had heard a couple of reports resembling gunshots, but had thought it was only the ice splitting and cracking. He now called to Johansen, who was in the tent.“I can hear dogs over yonder!” he said.Johansen, who was lying asleep, jumped up and bundled out of the tent. “Dogs?” No! he could not take that in; but all the same went up and stood beside Nansen to listen. “It must be your imagination!” he said. He certainly had on one or two occasions, he said, heard sounds like the barking of a dog, but they had been so drowned in the bird-cries that he did not think much of it. To which Nansen replied that he might think what he liked, but that for his part he intended to set out as soon as they had had breakfast.So it was arranged that Johansen should stay there to see to the kayaks, while Nansen set out on this expedition.Before finally starting, Nansen once more got up on the hummock and listened, but could hear nothing. However, off he started, though he felt some doubts in his own mind. What if it were a delusion after all?Meeting of Nansen and Jackson.Meeting of Nansen and Jackson.By Permission of Harper & Brothers.After proceeding some distance he came on the tracks of an animal. They were too large to be those of a fox, and too small for a wolf. They must be dog tracks, then! A distant bark at that moment fell on his ear, more distinct than ever, and off he set at full speed in the direction of the sound, so that the snow dust whirled up in clouds behind him, every nerve and muscle of his body quivering with excitement. He passed a great many tracks, with foxes’ tracks interspersed among them. A long time now elapsed during which he could hear nothing, as he went zigzagging in among the hummocks, and his heart began to sink at every step he took. Suddenly, however, he thought he could hear the sound of a human voice—a strangevoice—the first for three years! His heart beat, the blood flew to his brain, and springing up on the top of a hummock, he hallooed with all the strength of his lungs. Behind that human voice in the midst of this desert of ice stood home, and she who was waiting there!An answering shout came back far, far off, dying away in the distance, and before long he discerned some dark form among the hummocks farther ahead. It was a dog! But behind it another form was visible—a man’s form!Nansen remained where he was, rooted to the spot, straining eyes and ears as the form gradually drew near, and then set off once more to meet it, as if it were a matter of life and death.They approached each other. Nansen waved his hat; the stranger did the same.They met.That stranger was the English arctic traveller, Mr. Jackson.They shook hands; and Jackson said,—“I am delighted to meet you!”N. “Thanks; so am I.”J. “Is your ship here?”N. “No.”J. “How many are you?”N. “I have a companion out yonder by the edge of the ice.”As they walked along together, Jackson, who had been eyeing Nansen all the while intently, all at once halted, and staring his companion full in the face said,—“Are not you Nansen?”“Yes, I am.”“By Jove!I amglad to meet you!”And he shook Nansen by the hand so heartily as well nigh to dislocate his wrist, his dark eyes beaming with delight. Endless questions and answers took place between them till they reached Jackson’s camp, where some of the men were at once despatched to fetch Johansen.Life with Jackson was for our two northmen a life of uninterrupted comfort and delight. First of all they were photographed in their “wild man’s attire;” then they washed, put on fresh clothes, had their hair cut, enjoyed the luxury of a shave; undergoing all the changes from savage to civilized life—changes that to them were inexpressibly delightful. Once more they ate civilized food, lay in civilized beds, read books, newspapers, smoked, drank. What a change after fifteen months of Esquimau fare of blubber and bears’ flesh! And yet during all that time they had experienced scarcely a single day’s illness.Jackson’s ship, the Windward, was expected to arrive shortly, and it was arranged that Nansen and Johansen should embark on her for Norway.But our two travellers had to wait a longer time than they anticipated, for it was not till July 26 that the Windward arrived. On Aug. 7, however, they went on board the ship, and steered with a favorable wind for Vardö, where they arrived early in the morning of Aug. 13.The pilot who came on board did not know Nansen;but when the captain mentioned his name, his old weather-beaten face brightened up, and assumed an appearance of mingled joy and petrified amazement.Seizing Nansen by the hand, he bade him a thousand welcomes. “Everybody,” he said, “had thought him long dead, as nothing had been heard of the Fram.”Nansen assured him he felt no doubt of the safety of the ship, and that he placed as much confidence in the Fram as he did in himself. Otto Sverdrup was in command, and they would soon hear tidings of her.No sooner had the Windward anchored in Vardö harbor than Nansen and Johansen rowed ashore, and at once repaired to the telegraph office. No one knew them as they entered it. Nansen, thereon, threw down a bundle of telegrams—several hundred in number—on the counter, and begged they might be despatched without delay. The telegraph official eyed the visitors rather curiously as he took up the bundle. When his eye lighted on the word “Nansen,” which was on the one lying uppermost, he changed color, and took the messages to the lady at the desk, returning at once, his face beaming with delight, and bade him welcome. “The telegrams should be despatched as quickly as possible, but it would take several days to send them all.” A minute later the telegraph apparatus began to tick from Vardö, and thence round the whole world, the announcement of the successful issue of the expedition to the North Pole; and in a few hours’ time Nansen’s name was on the lips of a hundred millions of people, whose hearts glowed at the thought of his marvellous achievement.But away yonder in Svartebugta there sat a woman, who would not on that day have exchanged the anguish she had undergone, and the sacrifices she had made, for all the kingdoms of the world.By an extraordinary coincidence, Nansen met his friend Professor Mohn in Vardö—the man who had all along placed implicit reliance on his theory. On seeing him Mohn burst into tears, as he said, “Thank God, you are alive.”By another equally extraordinary coincidence, Nansen met his English friend and patron, Sir George Baden Powell, in Hammerfest, on his yacht the Ontario, which he placed at Nansen’s disposal, an offer which was gratefully accepted. Sir Baden Powell had been very anxious about Nansen, and was, in fact, on the point of setting out on an expedition to search for him, when he thus met him.That same evening Nansen’s wife and his secretary, Christophersen, arrived in Hammerfest, and the whole place wasen fêteto celebrate the event. Telegrams kept pouring in from all quarters of the globe, and invitations from every town on the coast of Norway to visit themen route.But the Fram? The only dark spot amid all their joy was that no tidings had been heard of her; and in the homes of those brave fellows left behind there was sadness and anxiety. Even Nansen himself, who had felt so sure that all was well with her, began to feel anxious.One morning, it was Aug. 20, Nansen was awakened by Sir Baden Powell knocking at his door with the announcementthat there was a man outside who wanted to speak to him.Nansen replied that he was not dressed, but would come presently.“Come just as you are,” answered Sir Baden.Who could it be?Hurriedly putting on his clothes, Nansen went down into the saloon. A man was standing there, a telegram in his hand; it was the director of the telegraph office.He had a telegram, he said, which he thought would interest him, and had brought it himself.Interest him! There was only one thing in the world that could interest Nansen now, and that was the Fram’s fate.With trembling fingers he tore open the paper, and read,—Fram arrived in good condition. All well on board. Am going to Tromsö. Welcome home.O. S.Nansen felt as if he must fall on the floor; and all he could do was to stammer out, “Fram—arrived!”Sir Baden Powell, who was standing beside him, shouted aloud with joy, while Johansen’s face beamed like the sun, and Christophersen kept walking to and fro; and to complete the tableau, the telegraph director stood between them all, thoroughly enjoying the scene, as he looked from one to the other of the party.All Hammerfest wasen fête, and universal joy was felt the whole world through, when the tidings of the Fram’s home-coming were made known.The great work was ended—ended in the happiestmanner, without the loss of a single human life! The whole thing sounded indeed like a miracle. And a miracle the Nansen lads thought it to be when they met Nansen and Johansen in Tromsö; and when all the brave participators in the expedition were once more assembled, theirs was a joy so overwhelming that words fail to describe it.Yes, the great work was ended!The voyage along the coast began in sunshine andfête. At last, on Sept. 9, the Fram steamed up the Christiania Fjord, which literally teemed with vessels and boats of all sorts, sizes, and descriptions. It was as if some old viking had returned home from a successful enterprise abroad. The ships of war fired salutes, the guns of the fortress thundered out their welcome; while the hurrahs and shouts of thousands rent the air, flags and handkerchiefs waving in a flood of joyful acclamation!But when with bared head Nansen set foot on land, and the grand old hymn—“VOR GUD HAN ER SAA FAST EN BORG”2was sung in one mighty chorus by the assembled multitude, thousands and thousands of men and women felt that the love of their fatherland had grown in their hearts during those three long years,—from the time when this man had set out to the icy deserts of the north, to the moment when he once more planted his foot on his native soil,—a feeling which the whole country shared with them.To the youth of Norway Fridtjof Nansen’s character and achievements stand out as a bright model, a glorious pattern for imitation. For he it is that has recalled to life the hero-life of the saga times among us; he it is that has shown our youth the road to manhood.Thatis his greatest achievement!1Henrik Wergeland, Norwegian poet and patriot, born 1808, died 1845.2“A mighty fortress is our God.”
Chapter IX.Nansen and Johansen start on a Sleighing Expedition.—Reach Eighty-six Degrees, Fourteen Minutes, North Latitude.—Winter in Franz Joseph’s Land.March 17, 1895, was a memorable day in the Fram’s history, for it was on that date that Nansen and Johansen set out on the most adventurous expedition ever undertaken in the polar sea. At the time of leaving the ship, she was in eighty-four degrees north latitude.On quitting her they fired a salute on board with all their guns as a farewell; and, though the lads on the Fram kept their spirits up bravely, every eye was full of tears, something quite uncommon with them: and they watched their two adventurous comrades, with their sleighs and dogs, as they set off toward the Pole, till they were lost to sight among the hummocks.The ice was terribly difficult, and they had a wearisome march over it; and, to make matters worse, a southerly drift set in, driving them nearly as far back as they advanced. However, they got on pretty well till reaching eighty-five degrees north latitude, when another back drift set in, lasting, indeed, without intermission during the whole of the expedition. The dogs, too, got worn out, and had to be killed one after the other; while, to add to their discomfort, their clothes would get frozen so stiff during the day that they hadto thaw them in their sleeping-bags at night with the warmth of their bodies. Very often they were so tired in the evening that they would fall asleep with the food in their hands. Their expedition, too, haunted them in their sleep; and often Nansen would be awakened by hearing Johansen call out in the night, “Pan!” “Barabbas!” or “The whole sleigh is going over!” or “Sass-sass,” “Prr!” Lappish words to make the dogs quicken their pace or to halt.Nansen and Johansen leaving the Fram.Nansen and Johansen leaving the Fram.It was sorrowful work to have to kill these faithful animals when they were worn out. Nansen himself says that he often felt the bitterest self-reproaches, andconfessed that this expedition seemed to destroy all the better feelings of his nature. But forward they must go, and forward they went, though their progress was very slow.It was not long before Nansen became convinced that it would be an utter impossibility to reach the Pole through such masses of pack-ice and hummocks as they encountered. The question, therefore, was how far they should venture toward it before turning their faces southward.On Monday, April 8, they had reached eighty-six degrees, ten minutes, north latitude (though it subsequently turned out to be eighty-six degrees, fourteen minutes, north latitude, that renowned degree of latitude that became historical when the news of the Nansen expedition was flashed all over the world), and determined to go on no farther. So, on the day following, they changed their course to the south. The going improved a little as they travelled on. As far as the eye could reach huge masses of ice towered aloft toward the north, while toward the south the ice became each day more favorable, a circumstance that cheered them up not a little.On Sunday, May 5, they were in eighty-four degrees, thirty-one minutes, north latitude, and on the 17th, in eighty-three degrees, thirty minutes, north latitude.They found it very hard work crossing the open channels in the ice; and what made it harder was that the number of their dogs diminished daily, one after another having to be killed as food for the survivors. It was absolutely necessary, however, to reach a latitudewhere game could be procured, before their stock of provisions gave out.On May 19 they came on the tracks of a bear, but did not see the animal itself. Tracks of foxes they had already seen when in eighty-five degrees north latitude.It seemed as if there was no end to these channels which must be crossed, and of the young ice which made hauling the sleighs such terribly hard work. Moreover, soon they would have no dogs left to help them, and they would have to drag the sleighs themselves.May passed and June set in, and still no end to the channels or to their excessive hard work, and not a glimpse of land to be seen yet. Every now and then a narwhal would be seen, or a seal, heralds, doubtless, that they were approaching the regions of animated nature. The ice, too, no longer hard and smooth, became regular slush, so that it clogged on the under surface of their ski, and strained to the utmost the poor dogs, who could hardly drag their loads after them. Everything, indeed, seemed against them! Three months had elapsed since quitting the Fram, and as yet they had met with no change for the better.On June 16 Kaifas, Haren, and Suggen were the sole survivors of the pack, and Nansen and Johansen had to do dogs’ work themselves in dragging the sleighs.But a turn for the better set in. On the 22d, as they were rowing the kayaks over some open water, they were fortunate enough to shoot a large seal. Its flesh lasted them a good while, and indeed proved a great godsend, though they did set fire to the tent while fryingblood pancakes in blubber—a mere trifle, however, on such an expedition as theirs! They soon mended it with one of the sleigh sails, and the blood pancakes were voted to be delicious. On the 24th Nansen shot another seal, an event duly celebrated with great festivity; viz., a supperofchocolate and blubber.On June 30 Nansen discovered, to his great chagrin, that they had advanced no farther south than they were a month ago, and it began to dawn upon him that in all probability they would have to winter up there—a pleasant prospect, forsooth! Their stock of provisions was nearly exhausted, and only three dogs left.On July 6 they shot three bears, so that all anxiety as regards food was happily at end for the time; though the prospect of reaching home that year, at least, was infinitesimally small.On Tuesday, July 23, they finally broke up “Longing Camp,” as they termed their quarters, and devoted all their energies to their journey homeward.The next day they saw land for the first time. Through the telescope its hazy outline could be discerned; but it took them a fortnight to reach it, and when they did reach it, they were so exhausted that they had to lie up several days.During this time Johansen was nearly killed by a bear. Nansen tells the story:—“After some very hard work we at last reached an open channel in the ice which we had to cross in our kayaks. I had just got mine ready, and was holding it to prevent its sliding down into the water, when I heard a scuffle going on behind me; and Johansen, who wasdragging his sleigh, called out, ‘Get your gun!’ I looked round, and saw a huge bear dash at him, and knock him down on his back. I made a grab at my gun, which was in its case on the foredeck; but at the same moment my kayak unfortunately slipped down into the water. My first impulse was to jump in after it, and shoot from the deck; but it was too risky a venture to attempt, so I set to work to haul it up on the ice again as quickly as I could. But it was so heavy that I had to kneel down on one knee, pulling and hauling and struggling to get hold of the gun, without even time to turn around and see what was going on behind me. Presently I heard Johansen say very calmly, ‘If you don’t look sharp, it will be too late.’ Look sharp! I should think I did look sharp! At last I got hold of the butt-end of the gun, drew it out of its case, whipped round in a sitting posture, and cocked one of the barrels which was loaded with shot. Meanwhile the bear stood there scarcely a yard away from me, and was on the point of doing for Kaifas. I had no time to cock the other barrel, so I gave it the whole charge of shot behind the ear, and the brute fell dead between us.“The bear must have followed on our tracks like a cat, and hiding behind blocks of ice, have slunk after us while we were busy clearing the loose ice away in the channel, with our backs turned toward it. We could see by its tracks that it had wormed its way on its stomach over a ridge in our rear, under cover of an ice-mound in close proximity to Johansen’s kayak.“While Johansen, without of course suspecting anything, or even looking behind him, was stooping downto lay hold of the hauling-rope, he got a glimpse of some animal lying in a crouching posture at the stern of the kayak. He thought at first it was only the dog Suggen; but before he had time to notice how large it was, he received a blow over the right ear that made him ‘silly,’ and over he went on his back. He now tried to defend himself the best he could with his bare fists, and with one hand gripped the brute by the throat, never once relaxing his hold.“Just as the bear was about to bite him on the head, he uttered those memorable words, ‘Look sharp!’ The bear kept watching me intently, wondering no doubt what I was up to, when all at once it happily caught sight of one of the dogs, and immediately turned toward it. Johansen now let go his hold of the brute’s throat, and wriggled himself away, while the bear gave poor Suggen a smack with his paw that made him howl as he used to do when he got a thrashing. Kaifas, too, got a smack on the nose. Meanwhile Johansen had got on his feet, and just as I fired had got hold of his gun, which was sticking up out of the hole in the kayak. The only damage done was that the bear had scraped a little of the grime and dirt off Johansen’s right cheek, so that he goes with a white stripe on it now, besides a scratch on one hand. Kaifas, too, had his nose scratched.”On reaching land they had to shoot Kaifas and Suggen, the sole survivors of their twenty-six faithful companions. It was a hard task. Johansen took Nansen’s dog Kaifas in a leash behind a hummock, while Nansen did the same with Johansen’s Suggen. Their two guns went off simultaneously, and the two men stood friendless,alone in the desert of ice. They did not say many words to each other on meeting.Along the coast of the land they discovered there was open water, of which they availed themselves, first lashing their kayaks together so that they formed in fact a double kayak.They rowed for several days, and were fortunate enough to shoot a walrus; but they had no idea what land it was, or where they were.One evening, however, the channel closed up, and no more open water was to be found. But on Aug. 13 it opened up again, and they were able to push on. After twenty-four hours it closed once more, and they had to drag the kayaks on the sleigh overland. On the evening of Aug. 18 they reached one of the islands they had been steering for, and for the first time for two years had bare earth under their feet. Here they revelled in “the joys of country life,”—now jumping over the rocks, or gathering moss and specimens of the flora, etc.,—and hoisted the Norwegian flag.In its summer dress this northern land seemed to them to be a perfect paradise; plenty of seals, sea-birds, flowers, and mud—and in front the blue sea.They were, therefore, loath to leave it, but onward they must proceed, if they wished to reach home that autumn. But fate willed it otherwise.They soon encountered ice again—nothing but ice—bare ice as far as the eye could reach. After waiting a considerable time, they once more had open water,of which they took advantage by hoisting a sail; but at the end of twenty-four hours their course was again blocked—a block that decided their future movements materially; for they were compelled to winter there!It may readily be supposed that this was not only a terrible disappointment, but a severe trial to our two arctic navigators. After all their labor and exertion, after reaching open water, and buoying themselves up, with the hope that their struggles would soon be over, to find that hope shattered, and their plans rendered abortive, and that they must perforce be imprisoned in the ice for months, was enough to make them lose heart altogether. But when once they realized their position, they acted like men, and set to work to build a stone hut, on the roof and floor of which they stretched bear hides. They succeeded in shooting several walruses, the blubber of which provided them with fuel, so that they might have been in a worse plight than they were. Still, it was not altogether pleasant to have to lie in a stone hut during a polar winter, with the thermometer down to -40 Fahrenheit, without any other food than bears’ flesh and blubber. Indeed, it required the constitution of a giant to endure it, and unyielding determination not to lose heart altogether.By working for a week, they finished the walls of their abode, and after getting the roof on, moved into it. They made a great heap of blubber of the walruses they shot outside the hut, covering it over with walrus hides. This was their fuel store. It served of course to attract bears, which was an advantage; and many a one paid the penalty of his appetite by being shot. At first theyfound it very uncomfortable at night, so they both slept in one sleeping-bag, and thus kept tolerably warm. But the climax of their joy was building in the roof a chimney of ice to let out the smoke of their fire. They had no other materials to make it out of. It answered capitally, however, having only one drawback; viz., that it readily melted. But there was no lack of ice for making another.Their cuisine was simple in the extreme, and strangely enough they never got tired of their food. Whatever came to hand, flesh or blubber, they ate readily, and sometimes, when a longing for fatty food, as was often the case, came over them, they would fish pieces of blubber out of the lamps, and eat them with great relish. They called these burnt pieces biscuits; and “if there had only been a little sugar sprinkled on them, they would have tasted deliciously,” they said.During the course of this winter the foxes proved very troublesome. They gnawed holes in the roof, stole instruments, wire, harpoons, and a thermometer. Luckily they had a spare one, so that the register of the temperature did not suffer. They were principally white foxes that visited them; but occasionally they saw the blue fox, and would dearly have liked to shoot some specimens of that beautiful animal, only that they feared their ammunition would not hold out. They shot their last bear on Oct. 21, after which they saw no more till the following spring.It was a long, tedious winter; the weather generally very boisterous, with drifting snowstorms. But every now and then fine weather would set in, when the starswould shine with great brilliancy, and wondrously beautiful displays of the aurora borealis would lighten up the whole scene.Another Christmas Eve arrived, the third they had spent in the polar regions; but this was the dreariest and gloomiest of them all. However, they determined to celebrate it, which they did by reversing their shirts. Then they ate fish-meal with train-oil instead of butter, and for a second course toasted bread and blubber. On Christmas morning they treated themselves to chocolate and bread.On New Year’s Day, 1896, there were -41° of cold (Fahrenheit), and all Nansen’s finger-tips were frost-bitten. Out there on that dreary headland their thoughts wandered away to their home, where they pictured to themselves all the Christmas joy and festivity that would be taking place, the flakes of snow falling gently out-of-doors, and the happy faces of their dear ones within.“The road to the stars is long and heavy!”Nansen and Johansen slept during the greater part of that long winter. Sometimes, like bears in their winter quarters, they would sleep for twenty-four hours at a stretch, when there was nothing particular to be done. Spring, however, returned at last, and the birds began to reappear on their northerly flight. The polar bears, too, revisited their hut, so they got plenty of fresh meat. The first bear they killed acted very daringly. Johansen was on the point of going out of the hut one day,when he started back, crying out, “There’s a bear just outside!” Snatching up his gun, he put his head out of the door of the hut, but instantly withdrew it. “It is close by, and means coming in.” Then he put his gun out again, and fired. The shot took effect, and the wounded beast made off for some rocky ground. After a long pursuit Nansen came up with it, and shot it in a snowdrift. It rolled over and over like a ball, and fell dead close to his feet. Its flesh lasted them six weeks.On May 19 they broke up their winter camp, and proceeded over the ice in a southerly direction, meeting with long stretches of level young ice, making also good use of their sail, and finally reached open water on Friday, June 12. They now lashed the two kayaks together, forming a double kayak, and set out to sea with a favorable breeze, feeling not a little elated; and in the evening lay to at the edge of the ice to rest, having first moored the kayaks with a rope, and then got up on a hummock to reconnoitre. Presently Johansen was heard to shout out, “The kayaks are adrift!” Down they both of them rushed as fast as they could.“Here, take my watch!” cried Nansen, handing it to Johansen, while he divested himself of his outer garments, and jumped into the water.Meanwhile the kayaks had drifted a considerable distance. It was absolutely necessary to overtake them, for their loss meant—death.But we will let Nansen tell the story:—“When I got tired, I turned over on my back, and then I could see Johansen walking incessantly to and fro on the ice. Poor fellow! he could not stand still;he felt it was so dreadful to be unable to do anything. Moreover, he did not entertain, he told me, much hope of my being able to reach them. However, it would not have mended matters had he jumped in after me. They were the worst minutes, he said, he had ever passed in all his life.“But when I turned over again and began swimming once more, I saw that I was perceptibly gaining on the kayaks, and this made me redouble my exertions. My limbs, however, were now becoming so numb and stiff that I felt I couldn’t go on much longer. But I wasn’t far off the kayaks now; if I could only manage to hold out a little longer, we were saved—and on I went. My strokes kept getting shorter and feebler every instant, but still I was gaining, and hoped to be able to come up with them. At last I got hold of a ski that lay athwart the bows, and clutched onto the kayaks. We were saved! but when I tried to get aboard, my limbs were so cold and stiff that I couldn’t manage it. For a moment I feared it was too late after all, and that although I had got thus far, I should never be able to get on board. So I waited a moment to rest, and after a great deal of difficulty, succeeded in getting one leg up on the edge of the sleigh that was lying on the deck, and so got on board, but so exhausted that I found it hard work to use the paddle.”When Nansen at last got the kayaks back to the edge of the ice, he changed his wet clothes, and was put to bed on the ice, that is to say, in the sleeping-bag, by Johansen, who threw a sail over him, and made him some warm drink, which soon restored the circulation.But when he told Johansen to go and fetch the two auks he had shot as he was rowing the kayaks back, the latter burst out laughing, and said, “I thought you had gone clean mad when you shot.”On Monday, June 15, Nansen’s life was a second time in jeopardy. They were rowing after walruses, when one of the creatures bobbed up close by Nansen’s kayak, and stuck its tusks through the side. Nansen hit it over the head with the paddle, whereon the brute let go his hold and disappeared.But the kayak very nearly foundered, and was only hauled up on the ice as it was on the point of sinking.This was the last perilous adventure on this marvellous expedition.
Chapter IX.Nansen and Johansen start on a Sleighing Expedition.—Reach Eighty-six Degrees, Fourteen Minutes, North Latitude.—Winter in Franz Joseph’s Land.
Nansen and Johansen start on a Sleighing Expedition.—Reach Eighty-six Degrees, Fourteen Minutes, North Latitude.—Winter in Franz Joseph’s Land.
Nansen and Johansen start on a Sleighing Expedition.—Reach Eighty-six Degrees, Fourteen Minutes, North Latitude.—Winter in Franz Joseph’s Land.
March 17, 1895, was a memorable day in the Fram’s history, for it was on that date that Nansen and Johansen set out on the most adventurous expedition ever undertaken in the polar sea. At the time of leaving the ship, she was in eighty-four degrees north latitude.On quitting her they fired a salute on board with all their guns as a farewell; and, though the lads on the Fram kept their spirits up bravely, every eye was full of tears, something quite uncommon with them: and they watched their two adventurous comrades, with their sleighs and dogs, as they set off toward the Pole, till they were lost to sight among the hummocks.The ice was terribly difficult, and they had a wearisome march over it; and, to make matters worse, a southerly drift set in, driving them nearly as far back as they advanced. However, they got on pretty well till reaching eighty-five degrees north latitude, when another back drift set in, lasting, indeed, without intermission during the whole of the expedition. The dogs, too, got worn out, and had to be killed one after the other; while, to add to their discomfort, their clothes would get frozen so stiff during the day that they hadto thaw them in their sleeping-bags at night with the warmth of their bodies. Very often they were so tired in the evening that they would fall asleep with the food in their hands. Their expedition, too, haunted them in their sleep; and often Nansen would be awakened by hearing Johansen call out in the night, “Pan!” “Barabbas!” or “The whole sleigh is going over!” or “Sass-sass,” “Prr!” Lappish words to make the dogs quicken their pace or to halt.Nansen and Johansen leaving the Fram.Nansen and Johansen leaving the Fram.It was sorrowful work to have to kill these faithful animals when they were worn out. Nansen himself says that he often felt the bitterest self-reproaches, andconfessed that this expedition seemed to destroy all the better feelings of his nature. But forward they must go, and forward they went, though their progress was very slow.It was not long before Nansen became convinced that it would be an utter impossibility to reach the Pole through such masses of pack-ice and hummocks as they encountered. The question, therefore, was how far they should venture toward it before turning their faces southward.On Monday, April 8, they had reached eighty-six degrees, ten minutes, north latitude (though it subsequently turned out to be eighty-six degrees, fourteen minutes, north latitude, that renowned degree of latitude that became historical when the news of the Nansen expedition was flashed all over the world), and determined to go on no farther. So, on the day following, they changed their course to the south. The going improved a little as they travelled on. As far as the eye could reach huge masses of ice towered aloft toward the north, while toward the south the ice became each day more favorable, a circumstance that cheered them up not a little.On Sunday, May 5, they were in eighty-four degrees, thirty-one minutes, north latitude, and on the 17th, in eighty-three degrees, thirty minutes, north latitude.They found it very hard work crossing the open channels in the ice; and what made it harder was that the number of their dogs diminished daily, one after another having to be killed as food for the survivors. It was absolutely necessary, however, to reach a latitudewhere game could be procured, before their stock of provisions gave out.On May 19 they came on the tracks of a bear, but did not see the animal itself. Tracks of foxes they had already seen when in eighty-five degrees north latitude.It seemed as if there was no end to these channels which must be crossed, and of the young ice which made hauling the sleighs such terribly hard work. Moreover, soon they would have no dogs left to help them, and they would have to drag the sleighs themselves.May passed and June set in, and still no end to the channels or to their excessive hard work, and not a glimpse of land to be seen yet. Every now and then a narwhal would be seen, or a seal, heralds, doubtless, that they were approaching the regions of animated nature. The ice, too, no longer hard and smooth, became regular slush, so that it clogged on the under surface of their ski, and strained to the utmost the poor dogs, who could hardly drag their loads after them. Everything, indeed, seemed against them! Three months had elapsed since quitting the Fram, and as yet they had met with no change for the better.On June 16 Kaifas, Haren, and Suggen were the sole survivors of the pack, and Nansen and Johansen had to do dogs’ work themselves in dragging the sleighs.But a turn for the better set in. On the 22d, as they were rowing the kayaks over some open water, they were fortunate enough to shoot a large seal. Its flesh lasted them a good while, and indeed proved a great godsend, though they did set fire to the tent while fryingblood pancakes in blubber—a mere trifle, however, on such an expedition as theirs! They soon mended it with one of the sleigh sails, and the blood pancakes were voted to be delicious. On the 24th Nansen shot another seal, an event duly celebrated with great festivity; viz., a supperofchocolate and blubber.On June 30 Nansen discovered, to his great chagrin, that they had advanced no farther south than they were a month ago, and it began to dawn upon him that in all probability they would have to winter up there—a pleasant prospect, forsooth! Their stock of provisions was nearly exhausted, and only three dogs left.On July 6 they shot three bears, so that all anxiety as regards food was happily at end for the time; though the prospect of reaching home that year, at least, was infinitesimally small.On Tuesday, July 23, they finally broke up “Longing Camp,” as they termed their quarters, and devoted all their energies to their journey homeward.The next day they saw land for the first time. Through the telescope its hazy outline could be discerned; but it took them a fortnight to reach it, and when they did reach it, they were so exhausted that they had to lie up several days.During this time Johansen was nearly killed by a bear. Nansen tells the story:—“After some very hard work we at last reached an open channel in the ice which we had to cross in our kayaks. I had just got mine ready, and was holding it to prevent its sliding down into the water, when I heard a scuffle going on behind me; and Johansen, who wasdragging his sleigh, called out, ‘Get your gun!’ I looked round, and saw a huge bear dash at him, and knock him down on his back. I made a grab at my gun, which was in its case on the foredeck; but at the same moment my kayak unfortunately slipped down into the water. My first impulse was to jump in after it, and shoot from the deck; but it was too risky a venture to attempt, so I set to work to haul it up on the ice again as quickly as I could. But it was so heavy that I had to kneel down on one knee, pulling and hauling and struggling to get hold of the gun, without even time to turn around and see what was going on behind me. Presently I heard Johansen say very calmly, ‘If you don’t look sharp, it will be too late.’ Look sharp! I should think I did look sharp! At last I got hold of the butt-end of the gun, drew it out of its case, whipped round in a sitting posture, and cocked one of the barrels which was loaded with shot. Meanwhile the bear stood there scarcely a yard away from me, and was on the point of doing for Kaifas. I had no time to cock the other barrel, so I gave it the whole charge of shot behind the ear, and the brute fell dead between us.“The bear must have followed on our tracks like a cat, and hiding behind blocks of ice, have slunk after us while we were busy clearing the loose ice away in the channel, with our backs turned toward it. We could see by its tracks that it had wormed its way on its stomach over a ridge in our rear, under cover of an ice-mound in close proximity to Johansen’s kayak.“While Johansen, without of course suspecting anything, or even looking behind him, was stooping downto lay hold of the hauling-rope, he got a glimpse of some animal lying in a crouching posture at the stern of the kayak. He thought at first it was only the dog Suggen; but before he had time to notice how large it was, he received a blow over the right ear that made him ‘silly,’ and over he went on his back. He now tried to defend himself the best he could with his bare fists, and with one hand gripped the brute by the throat, never once relaxing his hold.“Just as the bear was about to bite him on the head, he uttered those memorable words, ‘Look sharp!’ The bear kept watching me intently, wondering no doubt what I was up to, when all at once it happily caught sight of one of the dogs, and immediately turned toward it. Johansen now let go his hold of the brute’s throat, and wriggled himself away, while the bear gave poor Suggen a smack with his paw that made him howl as he used to do when he got a thrashing. Kaifas, too, got a smack on the nose. Meanwhile Johansen had got on his feet, and just as I fired had got hold of his gun, which was sticking up out of the hole in the kayak. The only damage done was that the bear had scraped a little of the grime and dirt off Johansen’s right cheek, so that he goes with a white stripe on it now, besides a scratch on one hand. Kaifas, too, had his nose scratched.”On reaching land they had to shoot Kaifas and Suggen, the sole survivors of their twenty-six faithful companions. It was a hard task. Johansen took Nansen’s dog Kaifas in a leash behind a hummock, while Nansen did the same with Johansen’s Suggen. Their two guns went off simultaneously, and the two men stood friendless,alone in the desert of ice. They did not say many words to each other on meeting.Along the coast of the land they discovered there was open water, of which they availed themselves, first lashing their kayaks together so that they formed in fact a double kayak.They rowed for several days, and were fortunate enough to shoot a walrus; but they had no idea what land it was, or where they were.One evening, however, the channel closed up, and no more open water was to be found. But on Aug. 13 it opened up again, and they were able to push on. After twenty-four hours it closed once more, and they had to drag the kayaks on the sleigh overland. On the evening of Aug. 18 they reached one of the islands they had been steering for, and for the first time for two years had bare earth under their feet. Here they revelled in “the joys of country life,”—now jumping over the rocks, or gathering moss and specimens of the flora, etc.,—and hoisted the Norwegian flag.In its summer dress this northern land seemed to them to be a perfect paradise; plenty of seals, sea-birds, flowers, and mud—and in front the blue sea.They were, therefore, loath to leave it, but onward they must proceed, if they wished to reach home that autumn. But fate willed it otherwise.They soon encountered ice again—nothing but ice—bare ice as far as the eye could reach. After waiting a considerable time, they once more had open water,of which they took advantage by hoisting a sail; but at the end of twenty-four hours their course was again blocked—a block that decided their future movements materially; for they were compelled to winter there!It may readily be supposed that this was not only a terrible disappointment, but a severe trial to our two arctic navigators. After all their labor and exertion, after reaching open water, and buoying themselves up, with the hope that their struggles would soon be over, to find that hope shattered, and their plans rendered abortive, and that they must perforce be imprisoned in the ice for months, was enough to make them lose heart altogether. But when once they realized their position, they acted like men, and set to work to build a stone hut, on the roof and floor of which they stretched bear hides. They succeeded in shooting several walruses, the blubber of which provided them with fuel, so that they might have been in a worse plight than they were. Still, it was not altogether pleasant to have to lie in a stone hut during a polar winter, with the thermometer down to -40 Fahrenheit, without any other food than bears’ flesh and blubber. Indeed, it required the constitution of a giant to endure it, and unyielding determination not to lose heart altogether.By working for a week, they finished the walls of their abode, and after getting the roof on, moved into it. They made a great heap of blubber of the walruses they shot outside the hut, covering it over with walrus hides. This was their fuel store. It served of course to attract bears, which was an advantage; and many a one paid the penalty of his appetite by being shot. At first theyfound it very uncomfortable at night, so they both slept in one sleeping-bag, and thus kept tolerably warm. But the climax of their joy was building in the roof a chimney of ice to let out the smoke of their fire. They had no other materials to make it out of. It answered capitally, however, having only one drawback; viz., that it readily melted. But there was no lack of ice for making another.Their cuisine was simple in the extreme, and strangely enough they never got tired of their food. Whatever came to hand, flesh or blubber, they ate readily, and sometimes, when a longing for fatty food, as was often the case, came over them, they would fish pieces of blubber out of the lamps, and eat them with great relish. They called these burnt pieces biscuits; and “if there had only been a little sugar sprinkled on them, they would have tasted deliciously,” they said.During the course of this winter the foxes proved very troublesome. They gnawed holes in the roof, stole instruments, wire, harpoons, and a thermometer. Luckily they had a spare one, so that the register of the temperature did not suffer. They were principally white foxes that visited them; but occasionally they saw the blue fox, and would dearly have liked to shoot some specimens of that beautiful animal, only that they feared their ammunition would not hold out. They shot their last bear on Oct. 21, after which they saw no more till the following spring.It was a long, tedious winter; the weather generally very boisterous, with drifting snowstorms. But every now and then fine weather would set in, when the starswould shine with great brilliancy, and wondrously beautiful displays of the aurora borealis would lighten up the whole scene.Another Christmas Eve arrived, the third they had spent in the polar regions; but this was the dreariest and gloomiest of them all. However, they determined to celebrate it, which they did by reversing their shirts. Then they ate fish-meal with train-oil instead of butter, and for a second course toasted bread and blubber. On Christmas morning they treated themselves to chocolate and bread.On New Year’s Day, 1896, there were -41° of cold (Fahrenheit), and all Nansen’s finger-tips were frost-bitten. Out there on that dreary headland their thoughts wandered away to their home, where they pictured to themselves all the Christmas joy and festivity that would be taking place, the flakes of snow falling gently out-of-doors, and the happy faces of their dear ones within.“The road to the stars is long and heavy!”Nansen and Johansen slept during the greater part of that long winter. Sometimes, like bears in their winter quarters, they would sleep for twenty-four hours at a stretch, when there was nothing particular to be done. Spring, however, returned at last, and the birds began to reappear on their northerly flight. The polar bears, too, revisited their hut, so they got plenty of fresh meat. The first bear they killed acted very daringly. Johansen was on the point of going out of the hut one day,when he started back, crying out, “There’s a bear just outside!” Snatching up his gun, he put his head out of the door of the hut, but instantly withdrew it. “It is close by, and means coming in.” Then he put his gun out again, and fired. The shot took effect, and the wounded beast made off for some rocky ground. After a long pursuit Nansen came up with it, and shot it in a snowdrift. It rolled over and over like a ball, and fell dead close to his feet. Its flesh lasted them six weeks.On May 19 they broke up their winter camp, and proceeded over the ice in a southerly direction, meeting with long stretches of level young ice, making also good use of their sail, and finally reached open water on Friday, June 12. They now lashed the two kayaks together, forming a double kayak, and set out to sea with a favorable breeze, feeling not a little elated; and in the evening lay to at the edge of the ice to rest, having first moored the kayaks with a rope, and then got up on a hummock to reconnoitre. Presently Johansen was heard to shout out, “The kayaks are adrift!” Down they both of them rushed as fast as they could.“Here, take my watch!” cried Nansen, handing it to Johansen, while he divested himself of his outer garments, and jumped into the water.Meanwhile the kayaks had drifted a considerable distance. It was absolutely necessary to overtake them, for their loss meant—death.But we will let Nansen tell the story:—“When I got tired, I turned over on my back, and then I could see Johansen walking incessantly to and fro on the ice. Poor fellow! he could not stand still;he felt it was so dreadful to be unable to do anything. Moreover, he did not entertain, he told me, much hope of my being able to reach them. However, it would not have mended matters had he jumped in after me. They were the worst minutes, he said, he had ever passed in all his life.“But when I turned over again and began swimming once more, I saw that I was perceptibly gaining on the kayaks, and this made me redouble my exertions. My limbs, however, were now becoming so numb and stiff that I felt I couldn’t go on much longer. But I wasn’t far off the kayaks now; if I could only manage to hold out a little longer, we were saved—and on I went. My strokes kept getting shorter and feebler every instant, but still I was gaining, and hoped to be able to come up with them. At last I got hold of a ski that lay athwart the bows, and clutched onto the kayaks. We were saved! but when I tried to get aboard, my limbs were so cold and stiff that I couldn’t manage it. For a moment I feared it was too late after all, and that although I had got thus far, I should never be able to get on board. So I waited a moment to rest, and after a great deal of difficulty, succeeded in getting one leg up on the edge of the sleigh that was lying on the deck, and so got on board, but so exhausted that I found it hard work to use the paddle.”When Nansen at last got the kayaks back to the edge of the ice, he changed his wet clothes, and was put to bed on the ice, that is to say, in the sleeping-bag, by Johansen, who threw a sail over him, and made him some warm drink, which soon restored the circulation.But when he told Johansen to go and fetch the two auks he had shot as he was rowing the kayaks back, the latter burst out laughing, and said, “I thought you had gone clean mad when you shot.”On Monday, June 15, Nansen’s life was a second time in jeopardy. They were rowing after walruses, when one of the creatures bobbed up close by Nansen’s kayak, and stuck its tusks through the side. Nansen hit it over the head with the paddle, whereon the brute let go his hold and disappeared.But the kayak very nearly foundered, and was only hauled up on the ice as it was on the point of sinking.This was the last perilous adventure on this marvellous expedition.
March 17, 1895, was a memorable day in the Fram’s history, for it was on that date that Nansen and Johansen set out on the most adventurous expedition ever undertaken in the polar sea. At the time of leaving the ship, she was in eighty-four degrees north latitude.
On quitting her they fired a salute on board with all their guns as a farewell; and, though the lads on the Fram kept their spirits up bravely, every eye was full of tears, something quite uncommon with them: and they watched their two adventurous comrades, with their sleighs and dogs, as they set off toward the Pole, till they were lost to sight among the hummocks.
The ice was terribly difficult, and they had a wearisome march over it; and, to make matters worse, a southerly drift set in, driving them nearly as far back as they advanced. However, they got on pretty well till reaching eighty-five degrees north latitude, when another back drift set in, lasting, indeed, without intermission during the whole of the expedition. The dogs, too, got worn out, and had to be killed one after the other; while, to add to their discomfort, their clothes would get frozen so stiff during the day that they hadto thaw them in their sleeping-bags at night with the warmth of their bodies. Very often they were so tired in the evening that they would fall asleep with the food in their hands. Their expedition, too, haunted them in their sleep; and often Nansen would be awakened by hearing Johansen call out in the night, “Pan!” “Barabbas!” or “The whole sleigh is going over!” or “Sass-sass,” “Prr!” Lappish words to make the dogs quicken their pace or to halt.
Nansen and Johansen leaving the Fram.Nansen and Johansen leaving the Fram.
Nansen and Johansen leaving the Fram.
It was sorrowful work to have to kill these faithful animals when they were worn out. Nansen himself says that he often felt the bitterest self-reproaches, andconfessed that this expedition seemed to destroy all the better feelings of his nature. But forward they must go, and forward they went, though their progress was very slow.
It was not long before Nansen became convinced that it would be an utter impossibility to reach the Pole through such masses of pack-ice and hummocks as they encountered. The question, therefore, was how far they should venture toward it before turning their faces southward.
On Monday, April 8, they had reached eighty-six degrees, ten minutes, north latitude (though it subsequently turned out to be eighty-six degrees, fourteen minutes, north latitude, that renowned degree of latitude that became historical when the news of the Nansen expedition was flashed all over the world), and determined to go on no farther. So, on the day following, they changed their course to the south. The going improved a little as they travelled on. As far as the eye could reach huge masses of ice towered aloft toward the north, while toward the south the ice became each day more favorable, a circumstance that cheered them up not a little.
On Sunday, May 5, they were in eighty-four degrees, thirty-one minutes, north latitude, and on the 17th, in eighty-three degrees, thirty minutes, north latitude.
They found it very hard work crossing the open channels in the ice; and what made it harder was that the number of their dogs diminished daily, one after another having to be killed as food for the survivors. It was absolutely necessary, however, to reach a latitudewhere game could be procured, before their stock of provisions gave out.
On May 19 they came on the tracks of a bear, but did not see the animal itself. Tracks of foxes they had already seen when in eighty-five degrees north latitude.
It seemed as if there was no end to these channels which must be crossed, and of the young ice which made hauling the sleighs such terribly hard work. Moreover, soon they would have no dogs left to help them, and they would have to drag the sleighs themselves.
May passed and June set in, and still no end to the channels or to their excessive hard work, and not a glimpse of land to be seen yet. Every now and then a narwhal would be seen, or a seal, heralds, doubtless, that they were approaching the regions of animated nature. The ice, too, no longer hard and smooth, became regular slush, so that it clogged on the under surface of their ski, and strained to the utmost the poor dogs, who could hardly drag their loads after them. Everything, indeed, seemed against them! Three months had elapsed since quitting the Fram, and as yet they had met with no change for the better.
On June 16 Kaifas, Haren, and Suggen were the sole survivors of the pack, and Nansen and Johansen had to do dogs’ work themselves in dragging the sleighs.
But a turn for the better set in. On the 22d, as they were rowing the kayaks over some open water, they were fortunate enough to shoot a large seal. Its flesh lasted them a good while, and indeed proved a great godsend, though they did set fire to the tent while fryingblood pancakes in blubber—a mere trifle, however, on such an expedition as theirs! They soon mended it with one of the sleigh sails, and the blood pancakes were voted to be delicious. On the 24th Nansen shot another seal, an event duly celebrated with great festivity; viz., a supperofchocolate and blubber.
On June 30 Nansen discovered, to his great chagrin, that they had advanced no farther south than they were a month ago, and it began to dawn upon him that in all probability they would have to winter up there—a pleasant prospect, forsooth! Their stock of provisions was nearly exhausted, and only three dogs left.
On July 6 they shot three bears, so that all anxiety as regards food was happily at end for the time; though the prospect of reaching home that year, at least, was infinitesimally small.
On Tuesday, July 23, they finally broke up “Longing Camp,” as they termed their quarters, and devoted all their energies to their journey homeward.
The next day they saw land for the first time. Through the telescope its hazy outline could be discerned; but it took them a fortnight to reach it, and when they did reach it, they were so exhausted that they had to lie up several days.
During this time Johansen was nearly killed by a bear. Nansen tells the story:—
“After some very hard work we at last reached an open channel in the ice which we had to cross in our kayaks. I had just got mine ready, and was holding it to prevent its sliding down into the water, when I heard a scuffle going on behind me; and Johansen, who wasdragging his sleigh, called out, ‘Get your gun!’ I looked round, and saw a huge bear dash at him, and knock him down on his back. I made a grab at my gun, which was in its case on the foredeck; but at the same moment my kayak unfortunately slipped down into the water. My first impulse was to jump in after it, and shoot from the deck; but it was too risky a venture to attempt, so I set to work to haul it up on the ice again as quickly as I could. But it was so heavy that I had to kneel down on one knee, pulling and hauling and struggling to get hold of the gun, without even time to turn around and see what was going on behind me. Presently I heard Johansen say very calmly, ‘If you don’t look sharp, it will be too late.’ Look sharp! I should think I did look sharp! At last I got hold of the butt-end of the gun, drew it out of its case, whipped round in a sitting posture, and cocked one of the barrels which was loaded with shot. Meanwhile the bear stood there scarcely a yard away from me, and was on the point of doing for Kaifas. I had no time to cock the other barrel, so I gave it the whole charge of shot behind the ear, and the brute fell dead between us.
“The bear must have followed on our tracks like a cat, and hiding behind blocks of ice, have slunk after us while we were busy clearing the loose ice away in the channel, with our backs turned toward it. We could see by its tracks that it had wormed its way on its stomach over a ridge in our rear, under cover of an ice-mound in close proximity to Johansen’s kayak.
“While Johansen, without of course suspecting anything, or even looking behind him, was stooping downto lay hold of the hauling-rope, he got a glimpse of some animal lying in a crouching posture at the stern of the kayak. He thought at first it was only the dog Suggen; but before he had time to notice how large it was, he received a blow over the right ear that made him ‘silly,’ and over he went on his back. He now tried to defend himself the best he could with his bare fists, and with one hand gripped the brute by the throat, never once relaxing his hold.
“Just as the bear was about to bite him on the head, he uttered those memorable words, ‘Look sharp!’ The bear kept watching me intently, wondering no doubt what I was up to, when all at once it happily caught sight of one of the dogs, and immediately turned toward it. Johansen now let go his hold of the brute’s throat, and wriggled himself away, while the bear gave poor Suggen a smack with his paw that made him howl as he used to do when he got a thrashing. Kaifas, too, got a smack on the nose. Meanwhile Johansen had got on his feet, and just as I fired had got hold of his gun, which was sticking up out of the hole in the kayak. The only damage done was that the bear had scraped a little of the grime and dirt off Johansen’s right cheek, so that he goes with a white stripe on it now, besides a scratch on one hand. Kaifas, too, had his nose scratched.”
On reaching land they had to shoot Kaifas and Suggen, the sole survivors of their twenty-six faithful companions. It was a hard task. Johansen took Nansen’s dog Kaifas in a leash behind a hummock, while Nansen did the same with Johansen’s Suggen. Their two guns went off simultaneously, and the two men stood friendless,alone in the desert of ice. They did not say many words to each other on meeting.
Along the coast of the land they discovered there was open water, of which they availed themselves, first lashing their kayaks together so that they formed in fact a double kayak.
They rowed for several days, and were fortunate enough to shoot a walrus; but they had no idea what land it was, or where they were.
One evening, however, the channel closed up, and no more open water was to be found. But on Aug. 13 it opened up again, and they were able to push on. After twenty-four hours it closed once more, and they had to drag the kayaks on the sleigh overland. On the evening of Aug. 18 they reached one of the islands they had been steering for, and for the first time for two years had bare earth under their feet. Here they revelled in “the joys of country life,”—now jumping over the rocks, or gathering moss and specimens of the flora, etc.,—and hoisted the Norwegian flag.
In its summer dress this northern land seemed to them to be a perfect paradise; plenty of seals, sea-birds, flowers, and mud—and in front the blue sea.
They were, therefore, loath to leave it, but onward they must proceed, if they wished to reach home that autumn. But fate willed it otherwise.
They soon encountered ice again—nothing but ice—bare ice as far as the eye could reach. After waiting a considerable time, they once more had open water,of which they took advantage by hoisting a sail; but at the end of twenty-four hours their course was again blocked—a block that decided their future movements materially; for they were compelled to winter there!
It may readily be supposed that this was not only a terrible disappointment, but a severe trial to our two arctic navigators. After all their labor and exertion, after reaching open water, and buoying themselves up, with the hope that their struggles would soon be over, to find that hope shattered, and their plans rendered abortive, and that they must perforce be imprisoned in the ice for months, was enough to make them lose heart altogether. But when once they realized their position, they acted like men, and set to work to build a stone hut, on the roof and floor of which they stretched bear hides. They succeeded in shooting several walruses, the blubber of which provided them with fuel, so that they might have been in a worse plight than they were. Still, it was not altogether pleasant to have to lie in a stone hut during a polar winter, with the thermometer down to -40 Fahrenheit, without any other food than bears’ flesh and blubber. Indeed, it required the constitution of a giant to endure it, and unyielding determination not to lose heart altogether.
By working for a week, they finished the walls of their abode, and after getting the roof on, moved into it. They made a great heap of blubber of the walruses they shot outside the hut, covering it over with walrus hides. This was their fuel store. It served of course to attract bears, which was an advantage; and many a one paid the penalty of his appetite by being shot. At first theyfound it very uncomfortable at night, so they both slept in one sleeping-bag, and thus kept tolerably warm. But the climax of their joy was building in the roof a chimney of ice to let out the smoke of their fire. They had no other materials to make it out of. It answered capitally, however, having only one drawback; viz., that it readily melted. But there was no lack of ice for making another.
Their cuisine was simple in the extreme, and strangely enough they never got tired of their food. Whatever came to hand, flesh or blubber, they ate readily, and sometimes, when a longing for fatty food, as was often the case, came over them, they would fish pieces of blubber out of the lamps, and eat them with great relish. They called these burnt pieces biscuits; and “if there had only been a little sugar sprinkled on them, they would have tasted deliciously,” they said.
During the course of this winter the foxes proved very troublesome. They gnawed holes in the roof, stole instruments, wire, harpoons, and a thermometer. Luckily they had a spare one, so that the register of the temperature did not suffer. They were principally white foxes that visited them; but occasionally they saw the blue fox, and would dearly have liked to shoot some specimens of that beautiful animal, only that they feared their ammunition would not hold out. They shot their last bear on Oct. 21, after which they saw no more till the following spring.
It was a long, tedious winter; the weather generally very boisterous, with drifting snowstorms. But every now and then fine weather would set in, when the starswould shine with great brilliancy, and wondrously beautiful displays of the aurora borealis would lighten up the whole scene.
Another Christmas Eve arrived, the third they had spent in the polar regions; but this was the dreariest and gloomiest of them all. However, they determined to celebrate it, which they did by reversing their shirts. Then they ate fish-meal with train-oil instead of butter, and for a second course toasted bread and blubber. On Christmas morning they treated themselves to chocolate and bread.
On New Year’s Day, 1896, there were -41° of cold (Fahrenheit), and all Nansen’s finger-tips were frost-bitten. Out there on that dreary headland their thoughts wandered away to their home, where they pictured to themselves all the Christmas joy and festivity that would be taking place, the flakes of snow falling gently out-of-doors, and the happy faces of their dear ones within.
“The road to the stars is long and heavy!”
“The road to the stars is long and heavy!”
Nansen and Johansen slept during the greater part of that long winter. Sometimes, like bears in their winter quarters, they would sleep for twenty-four hours at a stretch, when there was nothing particular to be done. Spring, however, returned at last, and the birds began to reappear on their northerly flight. The polar bears, too, revisited their hut, so they got plenty of fresh meat. The first bear they killed acted very daringly. Johansen was on the point of going out of the hut one day,when he started back, crying out, “There’s a bear just outside!” Snatching up his gun, he put his head out of the door of the hut, but instantly withdrew it. “It is close by, and means coming in.” Then he put his gun out again, and fired. The shot took effect, and the wounded beast made off for some rocky ground. After a long pursuit Nansen came up with it, and shot it in a snowdrift. It rolled over and over like a ball, and fell dead close to his feet. Its flesh lasted them six weeks.
On May 19 they broke up their winter camp, and proceeded over the ice in a southerly direction, meeting with long stretches of level young ice, making also good use of their sail, and finally reached open water on Friday, June 12. They now lashed the two kayaks together, forming a double kayak, and set out to sea with a favorable breeze, feeling not a little elated; and in the evening lay to at the edge of the ice to rest, having first moored the kayaks with a rope, and then got up on a hummock to reconnoitre. Presently Johansen was heard to shout out, “The kayaks are adrift!” Down they both of them rushed as fast as they could.
“Here, take my watch!” cried Nansen, handing it to Johansen, while he divested himself of his outer garments, and jumped into the water.
Meanwhile the kayaks had drifted a considerable distance. It was absolutely necessary to overtake them, for their loss meant—death.
But we will let Nansen tell the story:—
“When I got tired, I turned over on my back, and then I could see Johansen walking incessantly to and fro on the ice. Poor fellow! he could not stand still;he felt it was so dreadful to be unable to do anything. Moreover, he did not entertain, he told me, much hope of my being able to reach them. However, it would not have mended matters had he jumped in after me. They were the worst minutes, he said, he had ever passed in all his life.
“But when I turned over again and began swimming once more, I saw that I was perceptibly gaining on the kayaks, and this made me redouble my exertions. My limbs, however, were now becoming so numb and stiff that I felt I couldn’t go on much longer. But I wasn’t far off the kayaks now; if I could only manage to hold out a little longer, we were saved—and on I went. My strokes kept getting shorter and feebler every instant, but still I was gaining, and hoped to be able to come up with them. At last I got hold of a ski that lay athwart the bows, and clutched onto the kayaks. We were saved! but when I tried to get aboard, my limbs were so cold and stiff that I couldn’t manage it. For a moment I feared it was too late after all, and that although I had got thus far, I should never be able to get on board. So I waited a moment to rest, and after a great deal of difficulty, succeeded in getting one leg up on the edge of the sleigh that was lying on the deck, and so got on board, but so exhausted that I found it hard work to use the paddle.”
When Nansen at last got the kayaks back to the edge of the ice, he changed his wet clothes, and was put to bed on the ice, that is to say, in the sleeping-bag, by Johansen, who threw a sail over him, and made him some warm drink, which soon restored the circulation.But when he told Johansen to go and fetch the two auks he had shot as he was rowing the kayaks back, the latter burst out laughing, and said, “I thought you had gone clean mad when you shot.”
On Monday, June 15, Nansen’s life was a second time in jeopardy. They were rowing after walruses, when one of the creatures bobbed up close by Nansen’s kayak, and stuck its tusks through the side. Nansen hit it over the head with the paddle, whereon the brute let go his hold and disappeared.
But the kayak very nearly foundered, and was only hauled up on the ice as it was on the point of sinking.
This was the last perilous adventure on this marvellous expedition.
Chapter X.Meeting with Jackson.—Return to Norway on the Windward.—Fram Returns to Norway.—Royal Welcome Home.It was June 17, Henrik Wergeland’s1birthday. Nansen had been down to the edge of the ice to fetch some salt water, and had got up on a hummock in order to have a good look about. A brisk breeze was blowing off land, bearing with it the confused sound of bird-cries from the distant rocks. As he stood listening to these sounds of life in that wild desert, which he thought no human eye had ever seen, or human foot trodden before, a noise like the bark of a dog fell on his ear. He started with amazement.Could there be dogs here? Impossible! He must have been mistaken. It must have been the bird-cries! But no—there it was again! First a single bark, then the full cry of a whole pack. There was a deep bark, succeeded by a sharper one. There could be no doubt about it! Then he remembered that only the day before he had heard a couple of reports resembling gunshots, but had thought it was only the ice splitting and cracking. He now called to Johansen, who was in the tent.“I can hear dogs over yonder!” he said.Johansen, who was lying asleep, jumped up and bundled out of the tent. “Dogs?” No! he could not take that in; but all the same went up and stood beside Nansen to listen. “It must be your imagination!” he said. He certainly had on one or two occasions, he said, heard sounds like the barking of a dog, but they had been so drowned in the bird-cries that he did not think much of it. To which Nansen replied that he might think what he liked, but that for his part he intended to set out as soon as they had had breakfast.So it was arranged that Johansen should stay there to see to the kayaks, while Nansen set out on this expedition.Before finally starting, Nansen once more got up on the hummock and listened, but could hear nothing. However, off he started, though he felt some doubts in his own mind. What if it were a delusion after all?Meeting of Nansen and Jackson.Meeting of Nansen and Jackson.By Permission of Harper & Brothers.After proceeding some distance he came on the tracks of an animal. They were too large to be those of a fox, and too small for a wolf. They must be dog tracks, then! A distant bark at that moment fell on his ear, more distinct than ever, and off he set at full speed in the direction of the sound, so that the snow dust whirled up in clouds behind him, every nerve and muscle of his body quivering with excitement. He passed a great many tracks, with foxes’ tracks interspersed among them. A long time now elapsed during which he could hear nothing, as he went zigzagging in among the hummocks, and his heart began to sink at every step he took. Suddenly, however, he thought he could hear the sound of a human voice—a strangevoice—the first for three years! His heart beat, the blood flew to his brain, and springing up on the top of a hummock, he hallooed with all the strength of his lungs. Behind that human voice in the midst of this desert of ice stood home, and she who was waiting there!An answering shout came back far, far off, dying away in the distance, and before long he discerned some dark form among the hummocks farther ahead. It was a dog! But behind it another form was visible—a man’s form!Nansen remained where he was, rooted to the spot, straining eyes and ears as the form gradually drew near, and then set off once more to meet it, as if it were a matter of life and death.They approached each other. Nansen waved his hat; the stranger did the same.They met.That stranger was the English arctic traveller, Mr. Jackson.They shook hands; and Jackson said,—“I am delighted to meet you!”N. “Thanks; so am I.”J. “Is your ship here?”N. “No.”J. “How many are you?”N. “I have a companion out yonder by the edge of the ice.”As they walked along together, Jackson, who had been eyeing Nansen all the while intently, all at once halted, and staring his companion full in the face said,—“Are not you Nansen?”“Yes, I am.”“By Jove!I amglad to meet you!”And he shook Nansen by the hand so heartily as well nigh to dislocate his wrist, his dark eyes beaming with delight. Endless questions and answers took place between them till they reached Jackson’s camp, where some of the men were at once despatched to fetch Johansen.Life with Jackson was for our two northmen a life of uninterrupted comfort and delight. First of all they were photographed in their “wild man’s attire;” then they washed, put on fresh clothes, had their hair cut, enjoyed the luxury of a shave; undergoing all the changes from savage to civilized life—changes that to them were inexpressibly delightful. Once more they ate civilized food, lay in civilized beds, read books, newspapers, smoked, drank. What a change after fifteen months of Esquimau fare of blubber and bears’ flesh! And yet during all that time they had experienced scarcely a single day’s illness.Jackson’s ship, the Windward, was expected to arrive shortly, and it was arranged that Nansen and Johansen should embark on her for Norway.But our two travellers had to wait a longer time than they anticipated, for it was not till July 26 that the Windward arrived. On Aug. 7, however, they went on board the ship, and steered with a favorable wind for Vardö, where they arrived early in the morning of Aug. 13.The pilot who came on board did not know Nansen;but when the captain mentioned his name, his old weather-beaten face brightened up, and assumed an appearance of mingled joy and petrified amazement.Seizing Nansen by the hand, he bade him a thousand welcomes. “Everybody,” he said, “had thought him long dead, as nothing had been heard of the Fram.”Nansen assured him he felt no doubt of the safety of the ship, and that he placed as much confidence in the Fram as he did in himself. Otto Sverdrup was in command, and they would soon hear tidings of her.No sooner had the Windward anchored in Vardö harbor than Nansen and Johansen rowed ashore, and at once repaired to the telegraph office. No one knew them as they entered it. Nansen, thereon, threw down a bundle of telegrams—several hundred in number—on the counter, and begged they might be despatched without delay. The telegraph official eyed the visitors rather curiously as he took up the bundle. When his eye lighted on the word “Nansen,” which was on the one lying uppermost, he changed color, and took the messages to the lady at the desk, returning at once, his face beaming with delight, and bade him welcome. “The telegrams should be despatched as quickly as possible, but it would take several days to send them all.” A minute later the telegraph apparatus began to tick from Vardö, and thence round the whole world, the announcement of the successful issue of the expedition to the North Pole; and in a few hours’ time Nansen’s name was on the lips of a hundred millions of people, whose hearts glowed at the thought of his marvellous achievement.But away yonder in Svartebugta there sat a woman, who would not on that day have exchanged the anguish she had undergone, and the sacrifices she had made, for all the kingdoms of the world.By an extraordinary coincidence, Nansen met his friend Professor Mohn in Vardö—the man who had all along placed implicit reliance on his theory. On seeing him Mohn burst into tears, as he said, “Thank God, you are alive.”By another equally extraordinary coincidence, Nansen met his English friend and patron, Sir George Baden Powell, in Hammerfest, on his yacht the Ontario, which he placed at Nansen’s disposal, an offer which was gratefully accepted. Sir Baden Powell had been very anxious about Nansen, and was, in fact, on the point of setting out on an expedition to search for him, when he thus met him.That same evening Nansen’s wife and his secretary, Christophersen, arrived in Hammerfest, and the whole place wasen fêteto celebrate the event. Telegrams kept pouring in from all quarters of the globe, and invitations from every town on the coast of Norway to visit themen route.But the Fram? The only dark spot amid all their joy was that no tidings had been heard of her; and in the homes of those brave fellows left behind there was sadness and anxiety. Even Nansen himself, who had felt so sure that all was well with her, began to feel anxious.One morning, it was Aug. 20, Nansen was awakened by Sir Baden Powell knocking at his door with the announcementthat there was a man outside who wanted to speak to him.Nansen replied that he was not dressed, but would come presently.“Come just as you are,” answered Sir Baden.Who could it be?Hurriedly putting on his clothes, Nansen went down into the saloon. A man was standing there, a telegram in his hand; it was the director of the telegraph office.He had a telegram, he said, which he thought would interest him, and had brought it himself.Interest him! There was only one thing in the world that could interest Nansen now, and that was the Fram’s fate.With trembling fingers he tore open the paper, and read,—Fram arrived in good condition. All well on board. Am going to Tromsö. Welcome home.O. S.Nansen felt as if he must fall on the floor; and all he could do was to stammer out, “Fram—arrived!”Sir Baden Powell, who was standing beside him, shouted aloud with joy, while Johansen’s face beamed like the sun, and Christophersen kept walking to and fro; and to complete the tableau, the telegraph director stood between them all, thoroughly enjoying the scene, as he looked from one to the other of the party.All Hammerfest wasen fête, and universal joy was felt the whole world through, when the tidings of the Fram’s home-coming were made known.The great work was ended—ended in the happiestmanner, without the loss of a single human life! The whole thing sounded indeed like a miracle. And a miracle the Nansen lads thought it to be when they met Nansen and Johansen in Tromsö; and when all the brave participators in the expedition were once more assembled, theirs was a joy so overwhelming that words fail to describe it.Yes, the great work was ended!The voyage along the coast began in sunshine andfête. At last, on Sept. 9, the Fram steamed up the Christiania Fjord, which literally teemed with vessels and boats of all sorts, sizes, and descriptions. It was as if some old viking had returned home from a successful enterprise abroad. The ships of war fired salutes, the guns of the fortress thundered out their welcome; while the hurrahs and shouts of thousands rent the air, flags and handkerchiefs waving in a flood of joyful acclamation!But when with bared head Nansen set foot on land, and the grand old hymn—“VOR GUD HAN ER SAA FAST EN BORG”2was sung in one mighty chorus by the assembled multitude, thousands and thousands of men and women felt that the love of their fatherland had grown in their hearts during those three long years,—from the time when this man had set out to the icy deserts of the north, to the moment when he once more planted his foot on his native soil,—a feeling which the whole country shared with them.To the youth of Norway Fridtjof Nansen’s character and achievements stand out as a bright model, a glorious pattern for imitation. For he it is that has recalled to life the hero-life of the saga times among us; he it is that has shown our youth the road to manhood.Thatis his greatest achievement!1Henrik Wergeland, Norwegian poet and patriot, born 1808, died 1845.2“A mighty fortress is our God.”
Chapter X.Meeting with Jackson.—Return to Norway on the Windward.—Fram Returns to Norway.—Royal Welcome Home.
Meeting with Jackson.—Return to Norway on the Windward.—Fram Returns to Norway.—Royal Welcome Home.
Meeting with Jackson.—Return to Norway on the Windward.—Fram Returns to Norway.—Royal Welcome Home.
It was June 17, Henrik Wergeland’s1birthday. Nansen had been down to the edge of the ice to fetch some salt water, and had got up on a hummock in order to have a good look about. A brisk breeze was blowing off land, bearing with it the confused sound of bird-cries from the distant rocks. As he stood listening to these sounds of life in that wild desert, which he thought no human eye had ever seen, or human foot trodden before, a noise like the bark of a dog fell on his ear. He started with amazement.Could there be dogs here? Impossible! He must have been mistaken. It must have been the bird-cries! But no—there it was again! First a single bark, then the full cry of a whole pack. There was a deep bark, succeeded by a sharper one. There could be no doubt about it! Then he remembered that only the day before he had heard a couple of reports resembling gunshots, but had thought it was only the ice splitting and cracking. He now called to Johansen, who was in the tent.“I can hear dogs over yonder!” he said.Johansen, who was lying asleep, jumped up and bundled out of the tent. “Dogs?” No! he could not take that in; but all the same went up and stood beside Nansen to listen. “It must be your imagination!” he said. He certainly had on one or two occasions, he said, heard sounds like the barking of a dog, but they had been so drowned in the bird-cries that he did not think much of it. To which Nansen replied that he might think what he liked, but that for his part he intended to set out as soon as they had had breakfast.So it was arranged that Johansen should stay there to see to the kayaks, while Nansen set out on this expedition.Before finally starting, Nansen once more got up on the hummock and listened, but could hear nothing. However, off he started, though he felt some doubts in his own mind. What if it were a delusion after all?Meeting of Nansen and Jackson.Meeting of Nansen and Jackson.By Permission of Harper & Brothers.After proceeding some distance he came on the tracks of an animal. They were too large to be those of a fox, and too small for a wolf. They must be dog tracks, then! A distant bark at that moment fell on his ear, more distinct than ever, and off he set at full speed in the direction of the sound, so that the snow dust whirled up in clouds behind him, every nerve and muscle of his body quivering with excitement. He passed a great many tracks, with foxes’ tracks interspersed among them. A long time now elapsed during which he could hear nothing, as he went zigzagging in among the hummocks, and his heart began to sink at every step he took. Suddenly, however, he thought he could hear the sound of a human voice—a strangevoice—the first for three years! His heart beat, the blood flew to his brain, and springing up on the top of a hummock, he hallooed with all the strength of his lungs. Behind that human voice in the midst of this desert of ice stood home, and she who was waiting there!An answering shout came back far, far off, dying away in the distance, and before long he discerned some dark form among the hummocks farther ahead. It was a dog! But behind it another form was visible—a man’s form!Nansen remained where he was, rooted to the spot, straining eyes and ears as the form gradually drew near, and then set off once more to meet it, as if it were a matter of life and death.They approached each other. Nansen waved his hat; the stranger did the same.They met.That stranger was the English arctic traveller, Mr. Jackson.They shook hands; and Jackson said,—“I am delighted to meet you!”N. “Thanks; so am I.”J. “Is your ship here?”N. “No.”J. “How many are you?”N. “I have a companion out yonder by the edge of the ice.”As they walked along together, Jackson, who had been eyeing Nansen all the while intently, all at once halted, and staring his companion full in the face said,—“Are not you Nansen?”“Yes, I am.”“By Jove!I amglad to meet you!”And he shook Nansen by the hand so heartily as well nigh to dislocate his wrist, his dark eyes beaming with delight. Endless questions and answers took place between them till they reached Jackson’s camp, where some of the men were at once despatched to fetch Johansen.Life with Jackson was for our two northmen a life of uninterrupted comfort and delight. First of all they were photographed in their “wild man’s attire;” then they washed, put on fresh clothes, had their hair cut, enjoyed the luxury of a shave; undergoing all the changes from savage to civilized life—changes that to them were inexpressibly delightful. Once more they ate civilized food, lay in civilized beds, read books, newspapers, smoked, drank. What a change after fifteen months of Esquimau fare of blubber and bears’ flesh! And yet during all that time they had experienced scarcely a single day’s illness.Jackson’s ship, the Windward, was expected to arrive shortly, and it was arranged that Nansen and Johansen should embark on her for Norway.But our two travellers had to wait a longer time than they anticipated, for it was not till July 26 that the Windward arrived. On Aug. 7, however, they went on board the ship, and steered with a favorable wind for Vardö, where they arrived early in the morning of Aug. 13.The pilot who came on board did not know Nansen;but when the captain mentioned his name, his old weather-beaten face brightened up, and assumed an appearance of mingled joy and petrified amazement.Seizing Nansen by the hand, he bade him a thousand welcomes. “Everybody,” he said, “had thought him long dead, as nothing had been heard of the Fram.”Nansen assured him he felt no doubt of the safety of the ship, and that he placed as much confidence in the Fram as he did in himself. Otto Sverdrup was in command, and they would soon hear tidings of her.No sooner had the Windward anchored in Vardö harbor than Nansen and Johansen rowed ashore, and at once repaired to the telegraph office. No one knew them as they entered it. Nansen, thereon, threw down a bundle of telegrams—several hundred in number—on the counter, and begged they might be despatched without delay. The telegraph official eyed the visitors rather curiously as he took up the bundle. When his eye lighted on the word “Nansen,” which was on the one lying uppermost, he changed color, and took the messages to the lady at the desk, returning at once, his face beaming with delight, and bade him welcome. “The telegrams should be despatched as quickly as possible, but it would take several days to send them all.” A minute later the telegraph apparatus began to tick from Vardö, and thence round the whole world, the announcement of the successful issue of the expedition to the North Pole; and in a few hours’ time Nansen’s name was on the lips of a hundred millions of people, whose hearts glowed at the thought of his marvellous achievement.But away yonder in Svartebugta there sat a woman, who would not on that day have exchanged the anguish she had undergone, and the sacrifices she had made, for all the kingdoms of the world.By an extraordinary coincidence, Nansen met his friend Professor Mohn in Vardö—the man who had all along placed implicit reliance on his theory. On seeing him Mohn burst into tears, as he said, “Thank God, you are alive.”By another equally extraordinary coincidence, Nansen met his English friend and patron, Sir George Baden Powell, in Hammerfest, on his yacht the Ontario, which he placed at Nansen’s disposal, an offer which was gratefully accepted. Sir Baden Powell had been very anxious about Nansen, and was, in fact, on the point of setting out on an expedition to search for him, when he thus met him.That same evening Nansen’s wife and his secretary, Christophersen, arrived in Hammerfest, and the whole place wasen fêteto celebrate the event. Telegrams kept pouring in from all quarters of the globe, and invitations from every town on the coast of Norway to visit themen route.But the Fram? The only dark spot amid all their joy was that no tidings had been heard of her; and in the homes of those brave fellows left behind there was sadness and anxiety. Even Nansen himself, who had felt so sure that all was well with her, began to feel anxious.One morning, it was Aug. 20, Nansen was awakened by Sir Baden Powell knocking at his door with the announcementthat there was a man outside who wanted to speak to him.Nansen replied that he was not dressed, but would come presently.“Come just as you are,” answered Sir Baden.Who could it be?Hurriedly putting on his clothes, Nansen went down into the saloon. A man was standing there, a telegram in his hand; it was the director of the telegraph office.He had a telegram, he said, which he thought would interest him, and had brought it himself.Interest him! There was only one thing in the world that could interest Nansen now, and that was the Fram’s fate.With trembling fingers he tore open the paper, and read,—Fram arrived in good condition. All well on board. Am going to Tromsö. Welcome home.O. S.Nansen felt as if he must fall on the floor; and all he could do was to stammer out, “Fram—arrived!”Sir Baden Powell, who was standing beside him, shouted aloud with joy, while Johansen’s face beamed like the sun, and Christophersen kept walking to and fro; and to complete the tableau, the telegraph director stood between them all, thoroughly enjoying the scene, as he looked from one to the other of the party.All Hammerfest wasen fête, and universal joy was felt the whole world through, when the tidings of the Fram’s home-coming were made known.The great work was ended—ended in the happiestmanner, without the loss of a single human life! The whole thing sounded indeed like a miracle. And a miracle the Nansen lads thought it to be when they met Nansen and Johansen in Tromsö; and when all the brave participators in the expedition were once more assembled, theirs was a joy so overwhelming that words fail to describe it.Yes, the great work was ended!The voyage along the coast began in sunshine andfête. At last, on Sept. 9, the Fram steamed up the Christiania Fjord, which literally teemed with vessels and boats of all sorts, sizes, and descriptions. It was as if some old viking had returned home from a successful enterprise abroad. The ships of war fired salutes, the guns of the fortress thundered out their welcome; while the hurrahs and shouts of thousands rent the air, flags and handkerchiefs waving in a flood of joyful acclamation!But when with bared head Nansen set foot on land, and the grand old hymn—“VOR GUD HAN ER SAA FAST EN BORG”2was sung in one mighty chorus by the assembled multitude, thousands and thousands of men and women felt that the love of their fatherland had grown in their hearts during those three long years,—from the time when this man had set out to the icy deserts of the north, to the moment when he once more planted his foot on his native soil,—a feeling which the whole country shared with them.To the youth of Norway Fridtjof Nansen’s character and achievements stand out as a bright model, a glorious pattern for imitation. For he it is that has recalled to life the hero-life of the saga times among us; he it is that has shown our youth the road to manhood.Thatis his greatest achievement!
It was June 17, Henrik Wergeland’s1birthday. Nansen had been down to the edge of the ice to fetch some salt water, and had got up on a hummock in order to have a good look about. A brisk breeze was blowing off land, bearing with it the confused sound of bird-cries from the distant rocks. As he stood listening to these sounds of life in that wild desert, which he thought no human eye had ever seen, or human foot trodden before, a noise like the bark of a dog fell on his ear. He started with amazement.
Could there be dogs here? Impossible! He must have been mistaken. It must have been the bird-cries! But no—there it was again! First a single bark, then the full cry of a whole pack. There was a deep bark, succeeded by a sharper one. There could be no doubt about it! Then he remembered that only the day before he had heard a couple of reports resembling gunshots, but had thought it was only the ice splitting and cracking. He now called to Johansen, who was in the tent.
“I can hear dogs over yonder!” he said.
Johansen, who was lying asleep, jumped up and bundled out of the tent. “Dogs?” No! he could not take that in; but all the same went up and stood beside Nansen to listen. “It must be your imagination!” he said. He certainly had on one or two occasions, he said, heard sounds like the barking of a dog, but they had been so drowned in the bird-cries that he did not think much of it. To which Nansen replied that he might think what he liked, but that for his part he intended to set out as soon as they had had breakfast.
So it was arranged that Johansen should stay there to see to the kayaks, while Nansen set out on this expedition.
Before finally starting, Nansen once more got up on the hummock and listened, but could hear nothing. However, off he started, though he felt some doubts in his own mind. What if it were a delusion after all?
Meeting of Nansen and Jackson.Meeting of Nansen and Jackson.By Permission of Harper & Brothers.
Meeting of Nansen and Jackson.
By Permission of Harper & Brothers.
After proceeding some distance he came on the tracks of an animal. They were too large to be those of a fox, and too small for a wolf. They must be dog tracks, then! A distant bark at that moment fell on his ear, more distinct than ever, and off he set at full speed in the direction of the sound, so that the snow dust whirled up in clouds behind him, every nerve and muscle of his body quivering with excitement. He passed a great many tracks, with foxes’ tracks interspersed among them. A long time now elapsed during which he could hear nothing, as he went zigzagging in among the hummocks, and his heart began to sink at every step he took. Suddenly, however, he thought he could hear the sound of a human voice—a strangevoice—the first for three years! His heart beat, the blood flew to his brain, and springing up on the top of a hummock, he hallooed with all the strength of his lungs. Behind that human voice in the midst of this desert of ice stood home, and she who was waiting there!
An answering shout came back far, far off, dying away in the distance, and before long he discerned some dark form among the hummocks farther ahead. It was a dog! But behind it another form was visible—a man’s form!
Nansen remained where he was, rooted to the spot, straining eyes and ears as the form gradually drew near, and then set off once more to meet it, as if it were a matter of life and death.
They approached each other. Nansen waved his hat; the stranger did the same.
They met.
That stranger was the English arctic traveller, Mr. Jackson.
They shook hands; and Jackson said,—
“I am delighted to meet you!”
N. “Thanks; so am I.”
J. “Is your ship here?”
N. “No.”
J. “How many are you?”
N. “I have a companion out yonder by the edge of the ice.”
As they walked along together, Jackson, who had been eyeing Nansen all the while intently, all at once halted, and staring his companion full in the face said,—
“Are not you Nansen?”
“Yes, I am.”
“By Jove!I amglad to meet you!”
And he shook Nansen by the hand so heartily as well nigh to dislocate his wrist, his dark eyes beaming with delight. Endless questions and answers took place between them till they reached Jackson’s camp, where some of the men were at once despatched to fetch Johansen.
Life with Jackson was for our two northmen a life of uninterrupted comfort and delight. First of all they were photographed in their “wild man’s attire;” then they washed, put on fresh clothes, had their hair cut, enjoyed the luxury of a shave; undergoing all the changes from savage to civilized life—changes that to them were inexpressibly delightful. Once more they ate civilized food, lay in civilized beds, read books, newspapers, smoked, drank. What a change after fifteen months of Esquimau fare of blubber and bears’ flesh! And yet during all that time they had experienced scarcely a single day’s illness.
Jackson’s ship, the Windward, was expected to arrive shortly, and it was arranged that Nansen and Johansen should embark on her for Norway.
But our two travellers had to wait a longer time than they anticipated, for it was not till July 26 that the Windward arrived. On Aug. 7, however, they went on board the ship, and steered with a favorable wind for Vardö, where they arrived early in the morning of Aug. 13.
The pilot who came on board did not know Nansen;but when the captain mentioned his name, his old weather-beaten face brightened up, and assumed an appearance of mingled joy and petrified amazement.
Seizing Nansen by the hand, he bade him a thousand welcomes. “Everybody,” he said, “had thought him long dead, as nothing had been heard of the Fram.”
Nansen assured him he felt no doubt of the safety of the ship, and that he placed as much confidence in the Fram as he did in himself. Otto Sverdrup was in command, and they would soon hear tidings of her.
No sooner had the Windward anchored in Vardö harbor than Nansen and Johansen rowed ashore, and at once repaired to the telegraph office. No one knew them as they entered it. Nansen, thereon, threw down a bundle of telegrams—several hundred in number—on the counter, and begged they might be despatched without delay. The telegraph official eyed the visitors rather curiously as he took up the bundle. When his eye lighted on the word “Nansen,” which was on the one lying uppermost, he changed color, and took the messages to the lady at the desk, returning at once, his face beaming with delight, and bade him welcome. “The telegrams should be despatched as quickly as possible, but it would take several days to send them all.” A minute later the telegraph apparatus began to tick from Vardö, and thence round the whole world, the announcement of the successful issue of the expedition to the North Pole; and in a few hours’ time Nansen’s name was on the lips of a hundred millions of people, whose hearts glowed at the thought of his marvellous achievement.
But away yonder in Svartebugta there sat a woman, who would not on that day have exchanged the anguish she had undergone, and the sacrifices she had made, for all the kingdoms of the world.
By an extraordinary coincidence, Nansen met his friend Professor Mohn in Vardö—the man who had all along placed implicit reliance on his theory. On seeing him Mohn burst into tears, as he said, “Thank God, you are alive.”
By another equally extraordinary coincidence, Nansen met his English friend and patron, Sir George Baden Powell, in Hammerfest, on his yacht the Ontario, which he placed at Nansen’s disposal, an offer which was gratefully accepted. Sir Baden Powell had been very anxious about Nansen, and was, in fact, on the point of setting out on an expedition to search for him, when he thus met him.
That same evening Nansen’s wife and his secretary, Christophersen, arrived in Hammerfest, and the whole place wasen fêteto celebrate the event. Telegrams kept pouring in from all quarters of the globe, and invitations from every town on the coast of Norway to visit themen route.
But the Fram? The only dark spot amid all their joy was that no tidings had been heard of her; and in the homes of those brave fellows left behind there was sadness and anxiety. Even Nansen himself, who had felt so sure that all was well with her, began to feel anxious.
One morning, it was Aug. 20, Nansen was awakened by Sir Baden Powell knocking at his door with the announcementthat there was a man outside who wanted to speak to him.
Nansen replied that he was not dressed, but would come presently.
“Come just as you are,” answered Sir Baden.
Who could it be?
Hurriedly putting on his clothes, Nansen went down into the saloon. A man was standing there, a telegram in his hand; it was the director of the telegraph office.
He had a telegram, he said, which he thought would interest him, and had brought it himself.
Interest him! There was only one thing in the world that could interest Nansen now, and that was the Fram’s fate.
With trembling fingers he tore open the paper, and read,—
Fram arrived in good condition. All well on board. Am going to Tromsö. Welcome home.O. S.
Fram arrived in good condition. All well on board. Am going to Tromsö. Welcome home.
O. S.
Nansen felt as if he must fall on the floor; and all he could do was to stammer out, “Fram—arrived!”
Sir Baden Powell, who was standing beside him, shouted aloud with joy, while Johansen’s face beamed like the sun, and Christophersen kept walking to and fro; and to complete the tableau, the telegraph director stood between them all, thoroughly enjoying the scene, as he looked from one to the other of the party.
All Hammerfest wasen fête, and universal joy was felt the whole world through, when the tidings of the Fram’s home-coming were made known.
The great work was ended—ended in the happiestmanner, without the loss of a single human life! The whole thing sounded indeed like a miracle. And a miracle the Nansen lads thought it to be when they met Nansen and Johansen in Tromsö; and when all the brave participators in the expedition were once more assembled, theirs was a joy so overwhelming that words fail to describe it.
Yes, the great work was ended!
The voyage along the coast began in sunshine andfête. At last, on Sept. 9, the Fram steamed up the Christiania Fjord, which literally teemed with vessels and boats of all sorts, sizes, and descriptions. It was as if some old viking had returned home from a successful enterprise abroad. The ships of war fired salutes, the guns of the fortress thundered out their welcome; while the hurrahs and shouts of thousands rent the air, flags and handkerchiefs waving in a flood of joyful acclamation!
But when with bared head Nansen set foot on land, and the grand old hymn—
“VOR GUD HAN ER SAA FAST EN BORG”2
“VOR GUD HAN ER SAA FAST EN BORG”2
was sung in one mighty chorus by the assembled multitude, thousands and thousands of men and women felt that the love of their fatherland had grown in their hearts during those three long years,—from the time when this man had set out to the icy deserts of the north, to the moment when he once more planted his foot on his native soil,—a feeling which the whole country shared with them.
To the youth of Norway Fridtjof Nansen’s character and achievements stand out as a bright model, a glorious pattern for imitation. For he it is that has recalled to life the hero-life of the saga times among us; he it is that has shown our youth the road to manhood.
Thatis his greatest achievement!
1Henrik Wergeland, Norwegian poet and patriot, born 1808, died 1845.2“A mighty fortress is our God.”
1Henrik Wergeland, Norwegian poet and patriot, born 1808, died 1845.
2“A mighty fortress is our God.”