Fridtjof Nansen Part 5

But this must never be! The Fox must be got at, and friends at home must at all events get letters by her.

After a great deal of trouble Nansen at length found an Esquimau who agreed to set off in his kayak bearing two letters. One was from Nansen to Gamel, who had equipped the expedition; the other from Sverdrup to his father.

This having been arranged, and boats having been sent off to fetch their comrades from Ameralikfjord, Nansen and Sverdrup plunged into all the joys and delights of civilized life to which they had so long been strangers. Now they were able to indulge in the luxury of soap and water for the first time since the commencement of their journey across the ice. To change their clothes, to sleep in proper beds, to eat civilized food with knives and forks on earthenware plates, to smoke, to converse with educated beings, was to them the summum bonum of enjoyment, and they felt themselves to be in clover.

Notwithstanding all these, Nansen did not seem altogether himself. He was in a dreamy state, thinking perhaps of nights spent in sleeping-bags up on the inland ice, or dreaming of that memorable evening in the Ameralikfjord, of the hard struggles they had undergone on the boundless plains of snow. These things flashed across him, excluding from his mind the conviction that he had rendered his name famous.

At last, on Oct. 12, the other members of the expedition joined them, and these six men, who had risked their lives in that perilous adventure, were once more a.s.sembled together.

His object had been attained, and the name of Fridtjof Nansen would soon be known the whole world over!

That same autumn the Fox brought to Norway tidings of the success of the expedition, and a few hours after her arrival the telegraph announced throughout the length and breadth of the civilized world, in few but significant words, "Fridtjof Nansen has crossed over the inland ice of Greenland."

And the Norwegian nation, which had refused to grant the venturesome young man 5,000 kroner ($1,350), now raised her head, and called Fridtjof Nansen one of her best sons. And when one day in April, after having spent a long winter in Greenland, he went on board the Hvidbjorn [33] on his homeward journey, preparations were being made in the capital for a festival such as a king receives when he visits his subjects.

It was May 30: the spring sun was shining with all its brilliancy over Norway. The Christiania fjord was teeming with yachts and small sailing-boats. A light breeze played over the ruffled surface of the water, while the perfume of the budding trees on its banks shed a sweet fragrance all around. As for the town, it literally swarmed with human beings. The quays, the fortress, the very roofs of the houses, were densely packed with eager crowds, all of them intently gazing seaward. Presently a shout of welcome heard faintly in the distance announced his approach, gradually increasing in volume as he came nearer, till it merged into one continuous roar, while thousands of flags were waving overhead.

Eagerly the crowds pressed forward to catch the first glimpse of his form, and when they did recognize him, their hurrahs burst forth like a storm, and were caught up in the streets, answered from the windows, from the tops of houses; and when they ceased for a moment from the sheer exhaustion of those who uttered them, they were soon renewed with redoubled vigor. And when finally Nansen had disembarked and had entered a carriage, the police could no longer keep the people under control. As if with one accord they dashed forward, and taking out the horses, harnessed themselves in their place, and dragged him through the streets of the city in triumph.

Yes, the Norwegian people had taken possession of Fridtjof Nansen!

But up at a window there stood the old housekeeper from Store Froen, waving her white ap.r.o.n, while tears of joy trickled down her face. She it was who had bound up his bleeding head when years ago he had fallen and cut it on the ice; she it was to whom he had often gone when in some childish sc.r.a.pe. He remembered her in his hour of triumph. And as she was laughing and crying by turns, and waving her ap.r.o.n, he dashed up the steps and gave her a loving embrace.

For was she not part and parcel of his home?

CHAPTER VI.

Engagement and Marriage.--Home-Life.--Planning the Polar Expedition.

Two months after Nansen had returned home from his Greenland expedition he became engaged to Eva Sars, daughter of the late Professor Sars, and was married to her the same autumn. Her mother was the sister of the poet Welhaven.

The following story of his engagement is related:--

"On the night of Aug. 12 a shower of gravel and small pebbles rattled against the panes of a window in the house where Fridtjof Nansen's half-sister lived. He was very fond of her, and of her husband also, who had indeed initiated him in the use of gun and rod, and who had taken him with him, when a mere lad, on many a sporting excursion to Nordmarken.

"On hearing this unusual noise at the dead of night, his brother-in-law jumped out of bed in no very amiable frame of mind, and opening the window, called out, 'What is it?'

"'I want to come in!' said a tall figure dressed in gray, from the street below.

"A volley of expletives greeted the nocturnal visitor, who kept on saying, 'I want to come in.'

"Before long Fridtjof Nansen was standing in his sister's bedroom at two o'clock in the morning.

"Raising herself up in the bed, she said, 'But, Fridtjof, whatever is it?'

"'I'm engaged to be married--that's all!' was the laconic reply.

"'Engaged! But with whom?'

"'Why, with Eva, of course!'

"Then he said he felt very hungry, and his brother-in-law had to take a journey into the larder and fetch out some cold meat, and then down into the cellar after a bottle of champagne. His sister's bed served for a table, and a new chapter in 'Fridtjof's saga' was inaugurated at this nocturnal banquet."

The story goes, Nansen first met his future wife in a snowdrift. One day, it appears, when up in the Frogner woods, he espied two little boots sticking up out of the snow. Curiosity prompted him to go and see to whom the said boots belonged, and as he approached for that purpose, a little snow be-sprinkled head peered up at him. It was Eva Sars!

What gives this anecdote interest is that it was out of the snow and the cold to which he was to dedicate his life, she, who became dearer to him than life itself, first appeared.

Another circ.u.mstance connected therewith worthy of note is that Eva Sars was a person of rather a cold and repellent nature, and gave one the impression that there was a good deal of snow in her disposition. Hence the reason perhaps why she kept aloof rather than attracted those who would know her. Fridtjof Nansen, however, was not the man to be deterred by coldness. He was determined to win her, even if he should have to cross the inland ice of Greenland for that purpose.

But when she became his wife all the reserve and coldness of her nature disappeared. She took the warmest interest in his plans, partic.i.p.ated in his work, making every sacrifice a woman can make to promote his purpose. In all his excursions in the open air she accompanied him; and when she knew that he was making preparations for another expedition, one involving life itself, not a murmur escaped her lips. And when the hour of parting came at last, and a long, lonely time of waiting lay before her, she broke out into song. For in those dreary years of hope deferred she developed into an accomplished songstress; and when the fame of Nansen's exploit resounded throughout the whole north, the echo of her song answered in joyful acclaim. The maidens of Norway listening to her spirited strains, and beholding this brave little woman with her proudly uplifted head, learnt from Eva Nansen that such was the way in which a woman should meet a sorrow--such the way in which she should undergo a time of trial.

The following story, in Nansen's own words, will serve to give an idea of the sort of woman she was:

"It was New Year's Eve, 1890. Eva and I had gone on a little trip to Kroderen, [34] and we determined to get to the top of Norefjeld. "We slept at Olberg, and, feeling rather lazy next morning, did not set out till nearly noon. We took it very easily, moreover! Even in summer-time it is a stiff day's work to clamber up Norefjeld; but in winter, when the days are short, one has to look pretty sharp to reach the top while it is light. Moreover, the route we chose, though perhaps the most direct, was not by any means the shortest. The snow lay very deep; and soon it became impossible to go on ski, the ascent being so steep, that we had to take them off and carry them. However, we had made up our minds to reach the top; for it would never do to turn back after having gone half-way, difficult though the ascent might be. The last part of our journey was the most trying of all; I had to cut out steps with my ski-staff to get a foothold in the frozen snow. I went in front, and Eva followed close behind me. It really seemed that we slipped two steps backward for every one we took forward. At last we reached the top; it was pitch dark, and we had been going from ten A.M. to five P.M., without food. But, thank goodness, we had some cheese and pemmican with us, so we sat down on the snow, and ate it.

"Yes! there were we two alone on the top of Norefjeld, five thousand feet above the sea, with a biting wind blowing that made our cheeks tingle, and the darkness growing thicker and thicker every moment. Far away in the west there was a faint glimmer of daylight,--of the last day of the old year,--just enough to guide us by. The next thing to be done was to get down to Eggedal. From where we were it was a distance of about six and one-half miles, a matter of little consequence in broad daylight, but in the present instance no joke, I can a.s.sure you! However, it had to be done. So off we started, I leading the way, Eva following.

"We went like the wind down the slope, but had to be very careful. When one has been out in the dark some little time, it is just as if the snow gives out a faint light--though light it cannot really be termed, but a feeble kind of shimmer. Goodness only knows how we managed to get down, but get down we did! As it was too steep to go on ski, there was nothing for it but to squat and slide down--a kind of locomotion detrimental, perhaps, to one's breeches, but under the circ.u.mstances unquestionably the safest mode of proceeding in the dark!

"When we had got half-way down my hat blew off. So I had to 'put the brake on,' and get up on my legs, and go after it. Far away above me I got a glimpse of a dark object on the snow, crawled after it, got up to it, and grasped it, to find it was only a stone! My hat, then, must be further up. Surely that was it--again I got hold of a stone! The snow seemed to be alive with stones. Hat after hat, hat after hat, but whenever I tried to put it on my head, it turned out to be a stone. A stone for bread is bad enough, and stones for hats are not a bit better! So I had to give it up, and go hatless.

"Eva had been sitting waiting for me all this while. 'Eva,' I shouted, and a faint answer came back from below.

"Those miles seemed to be uncommonly long ones. Every now and then we could use our ski, and then it would become so steep again that we had to carry them. At last we came to a standstill. There was a chasm right in front of us,--how deep it was it was too dark to ascertain. However, we bundled over it somehow or other, and happily the snow was very deep. It is quite incredible how one can manage to get over a difficulty!

"As regards our direction, we had lost it completely; all we knew was that we must get down into the valley. Again we came to a standstill, and Eva had to wait while I went on, groping in the dark, trying to find a way. I was absent on this errand some little time. Presently it occurred to me, 'What if she should have fallen asleep!'

"'Eva!' I shouted, 'Eva!' Yes, she answered; but she must be a long way above where I was. If she had been asleep it would have been a difficult matter to have found her. But I groped my way up-hill to her, with the consolation that I had found the bed of a stream. Now the bed of a stream is not very well adapted for ski, especially when it is pitch dark, and the stomach is empty, and conscience p.r.i.c.ks you,--for really I ought not to have ventured on such an expedition with her. However, 'all's well that ends well,' and we got through all right.

"We had now got down to the birch scrub, and at last found our road.

"After some little time we pa.s.sed a cabin. I thought it wouldn't be a bad place to take refuge in, but Eva said it was so horribly dirty! She was full of spirits now, and voted for going on. So on we went, and in due time reached the parish clerk's house in Eggedal. Of course the inmates were in bed, so we had to arouse them. The clerk was horrified when I told him we had just come from the top of Norefjeld. This time Eva was not so nice about lodgings, for no sooner had she sat down on a chair, than she fell asleep. It was midnight, mind you, and she had been in harness fourteen hours.

"'He's a bit tired, poor lad!' said the clerk. For Eva had on a ski-dress with a very small skirt, trousers, and a Lapp fur cloak.

"'That's my wife,' I replied, whereupon he burst out into a laugh. 'Nay, nay! to drag his wife with him over the top of Norefjeld on New Year's Eve!' he said.

"Presently he brought in something to eat, for we were famished; and when Eva smelt it wasn't cheese and pemmican, she woke up.

"We rested here three days. Yes, it had been a New Year's Eve trip. A very agreeable one in my opinion, but I'm not so sure Eva altogether agreed with me!

"Two days later I and the 'poor little lad' drove through Numedal to Kongsberg in nine degrees below zero (Fahrenheit), which nearly froze the little fellow. But it is not a bad thing occasionally to have to put up with some inconveniences--you appreciate comforts afterward so much the more. He who has never experienced what cold is, does not really know the meaning of warmth!"