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

After supper we went ash.o.r.e, and were soon on the flat beach of Khabarova, the Russians and Samoyedes regarding us with the utmost curiosity. The first objects to attract our attention were the two churches--an old venerable-looking wooden shed, of an oblong rectangular form, and an octagonal pavilion, not unlike many summer-houses or garden pavilions that I have seen at home. How far the divergence between the two forms of religion was indicated in the two mathematical figures I am unable to say. It might be that the simplicity of the old faith was expressed in the simple, four-sided building, while the rites and ceremonies of the other were typified in the octagonal form, with its double number of corners to stumble against. Then we must go and see the monastery--"Skit,"

as it was called--where the six monks had lived, or rather died, from what people said was scurvy, probably helped out by alcohol. It lay over against the new church, and resembled an ordinary low Russian timber-house. The priest and his a.s.sistants were living there now, and had asked Trontheim to take up his quarters with them. Trontheim, therefore, invited us in, and we soon found ourselves in a couple of comfortable log-built rooms with open fireplaces like our Norwegian "peis."

After this we proceeded to the dog-camp, which was situated on a plain at some distance from the houses and tents. As we approached it the howling and barking kept getting worse and worse. When a short distance off we were surprised to see a Norwegian flag on the top of a pole. Trontheim's face beamed with joy as our eyes fell on it. It was, he said, under the same flag as our expedition that his had been undertaken. There stood the dogs tied up, making a deafening clamor. Many of them appeared to be well-bred animals--long-haired, snow-white, with up-standing ears and pointed muzzles. With their gentle, good-natured looking faces they at once ingratiated themselves in our affections. Some of them more resembled a fox, and had shorter coats, while others were black or spotted. Evidently they were of different races, and some of them betrayed by their drooping ears a strong admixture of European blood. After having duly admired the ravenous way in which they swallowed raw fish (gwiniad), not without a good deal of snarling and wrangling, we took a walk inland to a lake close by in search of game; but we only found an Arctic gull with its brood. A channel had been dug from this lake to convey drinking-water to Khabarova. According to what Trontheim told us, this was the work of the monks--about the only work, probably, they had ever taken in hand. The soil here was a soft clay, and the channel was narrow and shallow, like a roadside ditch or gutter; the work could not have been very arduous. On the hill above the lake stood the flagstaff which we had noticed on our arrival. It had been erected by the excellent Trontheim to bid us welcome, and on the flag itself, as I afterwards discovered by chance, was the word "Vorwarts." Trontheim had been told that was the name of our ship, so he was not a little disappointed when he came on board to find it was Fram instead. I consoled him, however, by telling him they both meant the same thing, and that his welcome was just as well meant, whether written in German or Norwegian. Trontheim told me afterwards that he was by descent a Norwegian, his father having been a ship's captain from Trondhjem, and his mother an Esthonian, settled at Riga. His father had been much at sea, and had died early, so the son had not learnt Norwegian.

Naturally our first and foremost object was to learn all we could about the ice in the Arctic Sea. We had determined to push on as soon as possible; but we must have the boiler put in order first, while sundry pipes and valves in the engine wanted seeing to. As it would take several days to do this, Sverdrup, Peter Henriksen, and I set out next morning in our little petroleum launch to the eastern opening of the Yugor Strait, to see with our own eyes what might be the condition of the ice to the eastward. It was 28 miles thither. A quant.i.ty of ice was drifting through the strait from the east, and, as there was a northerly breeze, we at once turned our course northward to get under the lee of the north sh.o.r.e, where the water was more open. I had the rather thankless task of acting as helmsman and engineer at one and the same time. The boat went on like a little hero and made about six knots. Everything looked bright. But, alas! good fortune seldom lasts long, especially when one has to do with petroleum launches. A defect in the circulation-pump soon stopped the engine, and we could only go for short distances at a time, till we reached the north sh.o.r.e, where, after two hours' hard work, I got the engines so far in order as to be able to continue our journey to the northeast through the sound between the drifting floes. We got on pretty well, except for an interruption every now and then when the engine took it into its head to come to a standstill. It caused a good deal of merriment when the stalwart Peter turned the crank to set her off again and the engine gave a start so as nearly to pull his arms out of joint and upset him head over heels in the boat. Every now and then a flock of long-tailed duck (Harelda glacialis) or other birds came whizzing by us, one or two of them invariably falling to our guns.

We had kept along the Vaigats sh.o.r.e, but now crossed over towards the south side of the strait. When about the middle of the channel I was startled by all at once seeing the bottom grow light under us, and had nearly run the boat on a shoal of which no one knew anything. There was scarcely more than two or three feet of water, and the current ran over it like a rapid river. Shoals and sunken rocks abound there on every hand, especially on the south side of the strait, and it required great care to navigate a vessel through it. Near the eastern mouth of the strait we put into a little creek, dragged the boat up on the beach, and then, taking our guns, made for some high-lying land we had noticed. We tramped along over the same undulating plain-land with low ridges, as we had seen everywhere round the Yugor Strait. A brownish-green carpet of moss and gra.s.s spread over the plain, bestrewn with flowers of rare beauty. During the long, cold Siberian winter the snow lies in a thick ma.s.s over the tundra; but no sooner does the sun get the better of it than hosts of tiny northern flowers burst their way up through the fast-disappearing coating of snow and open their modest calices, blushing in the radiant summer day that bathes the plain in its splendor. Saxifrages with large blooms, pale-yellow mountain poppies (Papaver nudicaule) stand in bright cl.u.s.ters, and here and there with bluish forget-me-nots and white cloud-berry flowers; in some boggy hollows the cotton-gra.s.s spreads its wavy down carpet, while in other spots small forests of bluebells softly tingle in the wind on their upright stalks. These flowers are not at all brilliant specimens, being in most cases not more than a couple of inches high, but they are all the more exquisite on that account, and in such surroundings their beauty is singularly attractive. While the eye vainly seeks for a resting-place over the boundless plain, these modest blooms smile at you and take the fancy captive.

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

After we had proceeded a short distance, we became aware of a white object sitting on a stone heap beneath a little ridge, and soon noticed more in other directions. They looked quite ghostly as they sat there silent and motionless. With the help of my field-gla.s.s I discovered that they were snow-owls. We set out after them, but they took care to keep out of the range of a fowling-piece. Sverdrup, however, shot one or two with his rifle. There was a great number of them; I could count as many as eight or ten at once. They sat motionless on tussocks of gra.s.s or stones, watching, no doubt, for lemmings, of which, judging from their tracks, there must have been quant.i.ties. We, however, did not see any.

From the tops of the ridges we could see over the Kara Sea to the northeast. Everywhere ice could be descried through the telescope, far on the horizon--ice, too, that seemed tolerably close and ma.s.sive. But between it and the coast there was open water, stretching, like a wide channel, as far as the eye could reach to the southeast. This was all we could make out, but it was in reality all we wanted. There seemed to be no doubt that we could make our way forward, and, well satisfied, we returned to our boat. Here we lighted a fire of driftwood, and made some glorious coffee.

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

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

Towards morning we drew near the Fram, pa.s.sing two Samoyedes, who had drawn their boat up on an ice-floe and were looking out for seals. I wonder what they thought when they saw our tiny boat shoot by them without steam, sails, or oars. We, at all events, looked down on these "poor savages" with the self-satisfied compa.s.sion of Europeans, as, comfortably seated, we dashed past them.

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

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

In the evening some of us went on sh.o.r.e to try the dogs. Trontheim picked out ten of them and harnessed them to a Samoyede sledge. No sooner were we ready and I had taken my seat than the team caught sight of a wretched strange dog that had come near, and off dashed dogs, sledge, and my valuable person after the poor creature. There was a tremendous uproar; all the ten tumbled over each other like wild wolves, biting and tearing wherever they could catch hold; blood ran in streams, and the culprit howled pitiably, while Trontheim tore round like a madman, striking right and left with his long switch. Samoyedes and Russians came screaming from all sides. I sat pa.s.sively on the sledge in the middle of it all, dumb with fright, and it was ever so long before it occurred to me that there was perhaps something for me too to do. With a horrible yell I flung myself on some of the worst fighters, got hold of them by the neck, and managed to give the culprit time to get away.

Our team had got badly mixed up during the battle, and it took some time to disentangle them. At last everything was once more ready for the start. Trontheim cracked his whip, and called, "Pr-r-r-r, pr-r-r-r," and off we went at a wild gallop, over gra.s.s, clay, and stones, until it seemed as if they were going to carry us right across the lagoon at the mouth of the river. I kicked and pulled in with all my might, but was dragged along, and it was all that Trontheim and I with our united strength could do to stop them just as they were going into the water, although we shouted "Sa.s.s, sa.s.s," so that it echoed over the whole of Khabarova. But at last we got our team turned in another direction, and off we set again merrily at such a pace that I had enough to do to hold on. It was an extraordinary summer ride; and it gave us a high opinion of the dogs'

strength, seeing how easily they drew two men over this, to put it mildly, bad sledding ground. We went on board again well satisfied, also the richer by a new experience, having learnt that dog-driving, at any rate to begin with, requires much patience.

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

Next day, August 1st, there was a great religious festival in Khabarova, that of St. Elias. Samoyedes from far and near had come in with their reindeer teams to celebrate the day by going to church and then getting roaring drunk. We were in need of men in the morning to help in filling the boiler with fresh water and the tank with drinking-water, but on account of this festival it was difficult to get hold of any at all. At last, by dint of promising sufficient reward, Trontheim succeeded in collecting some poor fellows who had not money enough to drink themselves as drunk as the day required of them. I was on sh.o.r.e in the morning, partly to arrange about the provision of water, partly to collect fossils, in which the rock here abounds, especially one rock below Sibiriakoff's warehouse. I also took a walk up the hill to the west, to Trontheim's flag-staff, and looked out to sea in that direction after the Urania. But there was nothing to be seen except an unbroken sea-line. Loaded with my find I returned to Khabarova, where I, of course, took advantage of the opportunity to see something of the festival.

From early morning the women had been dressed in their finest clothes--brilliant colors, skirts with many tucks, and great colored bows at the end of plaits of hair which hung far down their backs. Before service an old Samoyede and a comely young girl led out a lean reindeer which was to be offered to the church--to the old church, that is to say. Even up here, as already mentioned, religious differences have found their way. Nearly all the Samoyedes of these parts belong to the old faith and attend the old church. But they go occasionally to the new one too; as far as I could make out, so as not to offend the priest and Sibiriakoff--or perhaps to be surer of heaven? From what I got out of Trontheim on the subject, the chief difference between the two religions lies in the way they make the sign of the cross, or something of that sort. To-day was high festival in both churches. All the Samoyedes first paid a short visit to the new church and then immediately streamed over into the old one. The old church was for the moment without a priest, but to-day they had clubbed together and offered the priest of the new church two roubles to hold a service in the old one too. After careful consideration, he agreed, and in all his priestly pomp crossed the old threshold. The air inside was so bad that I could not stand it for more than two minutes, so I now made my way on board again.

During the afternoon the howling and screaming began, and increased as time went on. We did not need to be told that the serious part of the festival had now begun. Some of the Samoyedes tore about over the plain with their reindeer teams like furious animals. They could not sit on their sledges, but lay on them, or were dragged behind them, howling. Some of my comrades went on sh.o.r.e, and brought back anything but an edifying account of the state of things. Every single man and woman appeared to be drunk, reeling about the place. One young Samoyede in particular had made an ineffaceable impression on them. He mounted a sledge, lashed at the reindeer, and drove "amuck" in among the tents, over the tied-up dogs, foxes, and whatever came in his way; he himself fell off the sledge, was caught in the reins, and dragged behind, shrieking, through sand and clay. Good St. Elias must be much flattered by such homage. Towards morning the howling gradually died away, and the whole town slept the loathsome sleep of the drunkard.

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

At the supper-table this evening King Oscar's gold medal of merit was solemnly presented to Trontheim, in recognition of the great care with which he had executed his difficult commission, and the valuable a.s.sistance thereby rendered to the expedition. His honest face beamed at the sight of the beautiful medal and the bright ribbon.

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

TRONTHEIM'S NARRATIVE

Alexander Ivanovitch Trontheim has himself given an account, in the Tobolsk official newspaper, of his long and difficult journey with our dogs. The account was written by A. Kryloff from Trontheim's story. The following is a short resume:

After having made the contract with Baron Toll, Trontheim was on January 28th (January 16th by Russian reckoning) already at Berezoff, where there was then a Ya.s.sak-meeting, [22] and consequently a great a.s.sembly of Ostiaks and Samoyedes. Trontheim made use of this opportunity and bought 33 (this ought probably to be 40) choice sledge dogs. These he conveyed to the little country town of Muzhi, where he made preparations for the "very long journey," pa.s.sing the time in this way till April 16th. By this date he had prepared 300 pud (about 9600 lbs.) of dog provender, consisting chiefly of dried fish. For 300 roubles he engaged a Syriane, named Terentieff, with a reindeer herd of 450, to convey him, his dogs, and baggage to Yugor Strait. For three months these two with their caravan--reindeer, drivers, dogs, women, and children--travelled through the barren tracts of northern Siberia. At first their route lay through the Ural Mountains. "It was more a sort of nomadic life than a journey. They did not go straight on towards their destination, but wandered over wide tracts of country, stopping wherever it was suitable for the reindeer, and where they found lichen. From the little town of Muzhi the expedition pa.s.sed up the Voikara River to its sources; and here began the ascent of the Ural Mountains by the Pa.s.s of Kjaila (Kjola). In their crossing of the chain they tried to skirt along the foot of the mountains, climbing as little as possible....

"They noticed one marked contrast between the mountains in the northern and those in the southern part of the Ural chain. In the south the snow melts quickly in the lower regions and remains lying on the tops. Here (in the northern Ural), on the contrary, the mountain-tops are free from snow before the sun's rays penetrate into the valleys and melt it there. In some valleys, especially those closed by mountains to the south, and more exposed to north winds, the snow lies the whole summer. When they had got across the Ural Mountains they first followed the course of the River Lemva, then crossed it, and now followed a whole system of small rivers, for which even the natives have no names. At last, on May 4th, the expedition reached the River Ussa, on the banks of which lay the hut of the Syriane Nikitsa." This was "the one inhabited spot in this enormous tract of country," and here they stopped two weeks to rest the reindeer and get provender for them. "The country lying between the sources of the Voikara and the Ussa is wooded in every direction." "Between the River Ussa and the River Vorkuta, and even beyond that, Trontheim and his company travelled through quite luxuriant wood. In the middle of May, as the caravan approached the tundra region, the wood got thinner and thinner, and by May 27th it was nothing but scattered underwood. After this came quite small bushes and weeds, and then at last the interminable tundra came in sight. Not to be without fuel on the tundra, they felled some dead trees and other wood--eight sledge loads. The day after they got out on the tundra (May 29th) the caravan set off at full speed, the Syrianes being anxious to get quickly past a place where a whole herd of reindeer had perished some years before. The reindeer-drivers take good note of such places, and do everything possible to avoid them, as the animals may easily be infected by gnawing the bones of their dead comrades. G.o.d help the herd that this happens to! The disease pa.s.ses rapidly from animal to animal, and scores may die of it in a day. [23]

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

The caravan had often to cross rapid rivers, where it was sometimes very difficult to find a ford. They were frequently obliged to construct a bridge with the help of tent-poles and sometimes blocks of ice, and it occasionally took them a whole day to get across. By degrees their supply of wood was used up, and it was difficult to get food cooked. Few bushes were to be found. On June 17th they met a Syriane reindeer driver and trader; from him they bought two bottles of wine (brandy) at 70 kopecks each. "It was, as is customary, a very friendly encounter, and ended with treatings on both sides. One can see a long way on the tundra; the Syriane's keen eye detects another herd, or smoke from inhabited tents, 10 versts off; and a nomad who has discovered the presence of another human being 10 or 12 versts off never lets slip the opportunity of visiting him in his camp, having a talk, and being regaled with tea, or, in preference, brandy. The day after, June 18th, some Samoyedes, who had heard of the caravan, came on four sledges to the camp. They were entertained with tea. The conversation, carried on in Samoyede, was about the health of the reindeer, our journey, and the way to Yugor Strait. When the scanty news of the tundra had been well discussed they took their departure."

By the end of June, when they had got through all the ramifications of the Little Ural Mountains, the time was drawing near when, according to his agreement, Trontheim was due at Yugor Strait. He was obliged to hasten the rate of travelling, which was not an easy matter, with more than 40 sledges and 450 reindeer, not counting the calves. He, therefore, determined to divide the caravan into two parts, leave the women, children, and domestic animals behind, and push forward without any baggage, except the necessary food. So, on June 28th, "thirty sledges, tents, etc., were left with the women and children, who were to live their nomadic life as best they could. The male Syrianes took ten sledges and went on with Trontheim." At last, on July 9th, after more wanderings, they saw the sea from a "high hill,"

and next day they reached Khabarova, where Trontheim learned that no steamer had arrived yet in Yugor Strait, nor had any sail been seen. At this time the whole sh.o.r.e of Yugor Strait and all the sea within sight was covered with ice, driven there by northerly winds. The sea was not quite open till July 22d. Trontheim pa.s.sed the time while he was waiting for the Fram in hunting and making excursions with his dogs, which were in excellent condition. He was often in the Sibiriakoff colony, a meeting-place for the Samoyedes of the district, who come here in considerable numbers to dispose of their wares. And it was a melancholy phase of life he saw here in this little "world-forsaken"

colony. "Every summer two or three merchants or peasant traders, generally from Pustozersk, come for the purpose of bartering with the Samoyedes, and sometimes the Syrianes, too, for their wares--bearskins, blubber, and sealskins, reindeer-skins, and such like--giving in exchange tea, sugar, flour, household utensils, etc. No transaction takes place without the drinking of brandy, for which the Samoyede has an insatiable craving. When the trader has succeeded in making a poor wretch quite tipsy, he fleeces him, and buys all he wants at some ridiculous price--the result of the transaction generally being that the Samoyede is in debt to his 'benefactor.' All the traders that come to the colony bring brandy, and one great drinking-bout goes on all the summer. You can tell where much business is done by the number of brandy casks in the trader's booth. There is no police inspection, and it would be difficult to organize anything of the kind. As soon as there is snow enough for the sledges, the merchants' reindeer caravans start from the colony on their homeward journey, loaded with empty brandy casks and with the proceeds of this one-sided bartering.

"On July 30th [this ought to be 29th] Trontheim saw from the sh.o.r.e, first, smoke, and soon after a steamer. There could be no doubt of its being the Fram. He went out in a little Samoyede boat to meet her, and called out in Russian that he wanted to be taken on board. From the steamer they called back, asking who he was, and when they heard his name he was hauled up. On deck he met Nansen himself, in a greasy working-jacket. He is still quite a young man, of middle height...." Here follows a flattering description of the leader of the expedition, and the state of matters on board. "It is evident,"

he then goes on, "that we have here one family, united and inspired by one idea, for the carrying out of which all labor devotedly. The hard and dirty work on board is fairly divided, no difference being made between the common sailor and the captain, or even the chief of the expedition. The doctor, too, takes his share in the general work, and this community of labor is a close bond between all on board. The existence of such relations among the ship's company made a very favorable impression on Trontheim, and this most of all (in his opinion) justified the hope that in difficult crises the expedition would be able to hold its own.

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

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

"On August 3d they shifted coal on board the Fram from the ship's hold down to the stoke-hold (coal bunkers). All the members of the expedition took part in this work, Nansen at their head, and they worked unitedly and cheerfully. This same day Nansen and his companions tried the dogs on sh.o.r.e. Eight [this should be ten] were harnessed to a sledge on which three persons took their places. Nansen expressed his satisfaction with the dogs, and thanked Trontheim for the good selection he had made, and for the excellent condition the animals were in. When the dogs were taken over and brought on board, [25] Trontheim applied to Nansen for a certificate of the exact and scrupulous way in which he had fulfilled his contract. Nansen's answer was: 'No; a certificate is not enough. Your duty has been done with absolute conscientiousness, and you have thereby rendered a great service to the expedition. I am commissioned to present you with a gold medal from our king in recognition of the great help you have given us.' With these words Nansen handed to Trontheim a very large gold medal with a crown on it. On the obverse is the following inscription: 'Oscar II., King of Norway and Sweden. For the Welfare of the Brother-Nations.' And on the reverse: 'Reward for valuable service, A. I. Trontheim.' Along with this Nansen also gave Trontheim a written testimonial as to the admirable manner in which he had carried out his commission, mentioning that for this he had been rewarded with a medal.

"Nansen determined to weigh anchor during the night of this same day, [26] and set sail on his long voyage without waiting for the coal sloop Urania, which he thought must have been delayed by the ice. In the evening Trontheim took leave of the whole party, with hearty wishes for the success of the expedition. Along with him Herr Ole Christofersen, correspondent of one of the chief London newspapers, [27] left the ship. He had accompanied Nansen from Vardo. At parting, Nansen gave them a plentiful supply of provisions, Christofersen and Trontheim having to await the arrival of the Urania, as they were to go home by her. Precisely at 12 o'clock on the night between August 4th and 5th the signal for starting was given, and the Fram stood out to sea."

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

CHAPTER V

VOYAGE THROUGH THE KARA SEA

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

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

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

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

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

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