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

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

"Every one had eaten so much that supper had to be skipped altogether. Later in the evening coffee was served, with pineapple preserve, gingerbread, vanilla-cakes, cocoanut macaroons, and various other cakes, all the work of our excellent cook, Juell; and we ended up with figs, almonds, and raisins.

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

"Add now to this good cheer our strongly built, safe house, our comfortable saloon, lighted up with the large petroleum lamp and several smaller ones (when we have no electric light), constant gayety, card-playing, and books in any quant.i.ty, with or without ill.u.s.trations, good and entertaining reading, and then a good, sound sleep--what more could one wish?

" ... But, O Arctic night, thou art like a woman, a marvellously lovely woman. Thine are the n.o.ble, pure outlines of antique beauty, with its marble coldness. On thy high, smooth brow, clear with the clearness of ether, is no trace of compa.s.sion for the little sufferings of despised humanity; on thy pale, beautiful cheek no blush of feeling. Among thy raven locks, waving out into s.p.a.ce, the h.o.a.r-frost has sprinkled its glittering crystals. The proud lines of thy throat, thy shoulders'

curves, are so n.o.ble, but, oh! unbendingly cold; thy bosom's white chast.i.ty is feelingless as the snowy ice. Chaste, beautiful, and proud, thou floatest through ether over the frozen sea, thy glittering garment, woven of aurora beams, covering the vault of heaven. But sometimes I divine a twitch of pain on thy lips, and endless sadness dreams in thy dark eye.

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

"Tuesday, December 26th. 36 Fahr. below zero (-38 C.). This (the same as yesterday's) is the greatest cold we have had yet. I went a long way north to-day; found a big lane covered with newly frozen ice, with a quite open piece of water in the middle. The ice rocked up and down under my steps, sending waves out into the open pool. It was strange once more to see the moonlight playing on the coal-black waves, and awakened a remembrance of well-known scenes. I followed this lane far to the north, seemed to see the outlines of high land in the hazy light below the moon, and went on and on; but in the end it turned out to be a bank of clouds behind the moonlit vapor rising from the open water. I saw from a high hummock that this opening stretched north as far as the eye could reach.

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

"Wednesday, December 27th. Wind began to blow this afternoon, 19 1/2 to 26 feet per second; the windmill is going again, and the arc lamp once more brightens our lives. Johansen gave notice of 'a shooting-match by electric light, with free concert,' for the evening. It was a pity for himself that he did, for he and several others were shot into bankruptcy and beggary, and had to retire one after the other, leaving their cigarettes behind them."

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

"I am reading the story of Kane's expedition just now. Unfortunate man, his preparations were miserably inadequate; it seems to me to have been a reckless, unjustifiable proceeding to set out with such equipments. Almost all the dogs died of bad food; all the men had scurvy from the same cause, with snow-blindness, frost-bites, and all kinds of miseries. He learned a wholesome awe of the Arctic night, and one can hardly wonder at it. He writes on page 173: 'I feel that we are fighting the battle of life at disadvantage, and that an Arctic day and an Arctic night age a man more rapidly and harshly than a year anywhere else in this weary world.' In another place he writes that it is impossible for civilized men not to suffer in such circ.u.mstances. These were sad but by no means unique experiences. An English Arctic explorer with whom I had some conversation also expressed himself very discouragingly on the subject of life in the polar regions, and combated my cheerful faith in the possibility of preventing scurvy. He was of opinion that it was inevitable, and that no expedition yet had escaped it, though some might have given it another name: rather a humiliating view to take of the matter, I think. But I am fortunately in a position to maintain that it is not justified; and I wonder if they would not both change their opinions if they were here. For my own part, I can say that the Arctic night has had no aging, no weakening, influence of any kind upon me; I seem, on the contrary, to grow younger. This quiet, regular life suits me remarkably well, and I cannot remember a time when I was in better bodily health balance than I am at present. I differ from these other authorities to the extent of feeling inclined to recommend this region as an excellent sanatorium in cases of nervousness and general breakdown. This is in all sincerity.

"I am almost ashamed of the life we lead, with none of those darkly painted sufferings of the long winter night which are indispensable to a properly exciting Arctic expedition. We shall have nothing to write about when we get home. I may say the same of my comrades as I have said for myself; they all look healthy, fat, in good condition; none of the traditional pale, hollow faces; no low spirits--any one hearing the laughter that goes on in the saloon, 'the fall of greasy cards,'

etc. (see Juell's poem), would be in no doubt about this. But how, indeed, should there be any illness? With the best of food of every kind, as much of it as we want, and constant variety, so that even the most fastidious cannot tire of it, good shelter, good clothing, good ventilation, exercise in the open air ad libitum, no over-exertion in the way of work, instructive and amusing books of every kind, relaxation in the shape of cards, chess, dominoes, halma, music, and story-telling--how should any one be ill? Every now and then I hear remarks expressive of perfect satisfaction with the life. Truly the whole secret lies in arranging things sensibly, and especially in being careful about the food. A thing that I believe has a good effect upon us is this living together in the one saloon, with everything in common. So far as I know, it is the first time that such a thing has been tried; but it is quite to be recommended. I have heard some of the men complain of sleeplessness. This is generally considered to be one inevitable consequence of the Arctic darkness. As far as I am personally concerned, I can say that I have felt nothing of it; I sleep soundly at night. I have no great belief in this sleeplessness; but then I do not take an after-dinner nap, which most of the others are addicted to; and if they sleep for several hours during the day they can hardly expect to sleep all night as well. 'One must be awake part of one's time,' as Sverdrup said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"'TO THE NEW YEAR.

"'And you, my boy, must give yourself trouble Of your old father to be the double; Your lineage, honor, and fight hard to merit Our praise for the habits we trust you inherit.

On we must go if you want to please us; To make us lie still is the way to tease us.

In the old year we sailed not so badly, Be it so still, or you'll hear us groan sadly.

When the time comes you must break up the ice for us; When the time comes you must win the great prize for us; We fervently hope, having reached our great goal, To eat next Christmas dinner beyond the North Pole.'

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

"'Our mother, weep not! it was thou Gave them the wish to wander; To leave our coasts and turn their prow Towards night and perils yonder.

Thou pointedst to the open sea, The long cape was thy finger; The white sail wings they got from thee; Thou canst not bid them linger!

"'Yes, they are thine, O mother old!

And proud thou dost embrace them; Thou hear'st of dangers manifold, But know'st thy sons can face them.

And tears of joy thine eyes will rain, The day the Fram comes steering Up fjord again to music strain, And the roar of thousands cheering.

"'E. N.'

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

"'Luck on the way, Sun on the sea, Sun on your minds, Help from the winds; May the packed floes Part and unclose Where the ship goes.

Forward her progress be, E'en though the silent sea, Then After her freeze up again.

"'Strength enough, meat enough, Hope enough, heat enough; The Fram will go sure enough then To the Pole and so back to the dwellings of men.

Luck on the way To thee and thy band, And welcome back to the fatherland!'

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

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

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

"An extra good dinner at 6 P.M.

1. Tomato soup.

2. Cod roe with melted b.u.t.ter and potatoes.

3. Roast reindeer, with green pease, potatoes, and cranberry jam.

4. Cloudberries with milk.

Ringnes beer.

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

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

"Yes; lead us, if not to our goal--that would be too early--at least towards it; strengthen our hope; but perhaps--no, no perhaps. These brave boys of mine deserve to succeed. There is not a doubt in their minds. Each one's whole heart is set on getting north. I can read it in their faces--it shines from every eye. There is one sigh of disappointment every time that we hear that we are drifting south, one sigh of relief when we begin to go north again, to the unknown. And it is in me and my theories that they trust. What if I have been mistaken, and am leading them astray? Oh, I could not help myself! We are the tools of powers beyond us. We are born under lucky or unlucky stars. Till now I have lived under a lucky one; is its light to be darkened? I am superst.i.tious, no doubt, but I believe in my star. And Norway, our fatherland, what has the old year brought to thee, and what is the new year bringing? Vain to think of that; but I look at our pictures, the gifts of Werenskjold, Munthe, Kitty Kielland, Skredsvig, Hansteen, Eilif Pettersen, and I am at home, at home!