Fridtjof Nansen Part 6

The day after the wedding the newly married pair set out for Newcastle, where there was to be a meeting of the Geographical Society, travelling via Gothenburg, Hamburg, and London. After this they went to Stockholm, and here Nansen was presented with the "Vega" medal by His Majesty. This was a distinguished honor, the more so as it had hitherto only been awarded to five persons, among whom were Stanley and Nordenskjold. Nansen subsequently was presented with several medals in foreign countries, and was made a Knight of the Order of St. Olaf and Danebrog.

On their return from Stockholm to Norway, Nansen and his wife took apartments at Marte La.r.s.en's, the old housekeeper at Store Froen, and stayed there two months, after which they took a house on the Drammen road. But they did not enjoy themselves there, and Nansen determined to build a house, for which purpose he bought a site at Svartebugta, near Lysaker. [35] It was here that, as a boy, he had often watched for wild ducks. It was a charming spot, moreover, and within easy distance of the town. The house was finished in the spring of 1890. During the whole of the winter, while building operations were going on, they lived in an icy cold pavillion near Lysaker railway station.

"It was here he weaned me from freezing," says Eva Nansen.

In this wretched habitation, where the water froze in the bedroom at night, Nansen would sit and work at his book on Greenland, and when he had time would superintend the building of the new house. It was called "G.o.dthaab"--a name given it by Bjornstjerne Bjornson.

In the autumn of this year Nansen set out on a lengthened lecturing tour, accompanied by his wife. He lectured in Copenhagen, London, Berlin, and Dresden, about his Greenland experiences, and also about the projected expedition to the North Pole. Everywhere people were attracted by his captivating individuality; but most thought this new expedition too venturesome. Even the most experienced Arctic explorers shook their heads, for they thought that, from such a daring enterprise, not a single member of the expedition would ever return alive.

But Nansen adhered to his own opinions, and we see him in the intervening years occupied with the equipment required for an expedition to the polar regions--a work so stupendous that the preparations for the Greenland expedition were but child's play in comparison.

CHAPTER VII.

Preparations for the Polar Expedition.--Starting from Norway.--Journey along the Siberian Coast.

Nansen's theory as regards the expedition to the North Pole was as simple as it was daring. He believed that he had discovered the existence of a current pa.s.sing over the pole, and of this he would avail himself. His idea, in fact, was to work his way into the ice among the New Siberian Islands, let his vessel be fast frozen into the drift-ice, and be carried by the current over the Pole to the east coast of Greenland. There articles had been found on ice-floes that had unquestionably belonged to former Arctic expeditions, a fact that convinced him of the existence of such a current.

It might take some years for a vessel to drift all that way; he must, therefore, make his preparations accordingly. Such at all events was Nansen's theory--a theory which, it must be said, few shared with him. For none of the world's noted explorers of those regions believed in the existence of such a current, and people generally termed the scheme, "a madman's idea!"

Nansen, therefore, stood almost alone in this, and yet not altogether alone, either. For the Norwegian people who would not sacrifice $1,350 for the Greenland expedition gave him now in a lump sum 280,000 kroner ($75,600). They were convinced of his gigantic powers, and when the Norwegians are fully convinced of a thing, they are willing to make any sacrifice to carry it out. They believed in him now!

Nansen then set to work in earnest at his gigantic undertaking.

First of all a vessel must be designed,--one that would be able to defy the ice. Availing himself, therefore, of the services of the famous shipbuilder, Colin Archer, he had the Fram [36] built--a name suggestive of n.o.ble achievements to the youth of Norway.

On Oct. 26, 1892, she was launched at Laurvig. During the previous night the temperature had been fourteen degrees above zero, and a slight sprinkling of snow had covered valley and height with a thin veil of white. The morning sun peered through the mist with that peculiar hazy light that foretells a bright winter day.

At the station at Laurvig, Nansen waited to receive his guests. A whaler, with a crow's-nest on her foretop, was lying in the harbor, to convey the visitors to the spot where the Fram was lying on the stocks.

In the bay at Reykjavik the huge hull of a vessel may be seen raised up on the beach, with her stern toward the sea. It is Fridtjof Nansen's new ship that is now to be launched. She is a high vessel, of great beam, painted black below and white above. Three stout masts of American pitch-pine are lying by her side on the quay, while three flagstaffs, two of them only with flags flying, rear themselves up aloft on her deck. The flag which is to be run up the bare staff is to bear the vessel's name--unknown as yet. Everybody is wondering what that name will be, and conjectures whether it will be Eva, Leif, Norway, Northpole, are rife.

Crowds of spectators are a.s.sembled at the wharf, while as many have clambered upon the adjacent rocks. But around the huge ship, which lies on the slips firmly secured with iron chains, are standing groups of stalwart, weather-beaten men in working attire. They are whalers, who for years have frequented the polar seas and braved its dangers, and are now attentively examining and criticising the new ship's construction. A goodly number, too, of workmen are there,--the men who built the ship; and they are looking at their work with feelings of pride. And yonder is the vessel's architect,--that stately, earnest-looking man with the long, flowing white beard,--Colin Archer.

And now, accompanied by his wife, Nansen ascends the platform that has been erected in the ship's bow. Mrs. Nansen steps forward, breaks a bottle of champagne on the prow, and in clear, ringing tones declares, "Fram is her name." At the same moment a flag on which the vessel's name can be read in white letters on a red ground, is run up to the top of the bare flagstaff.

The last bands and chains are quickly removed, and the ponderous ma.s.s glides, stern first, slowly down the incline, but with ever-increasing velocity, toward the water. For a moment some anxiety is felt lest she should sink or get wedged; but as soon as her bows touch the water the stern rises up, and the Fram floats proudly on the sea, and is then at once moored fast with warps to the quay.

Meanwhile Nansen stood beside his wife, and all eyes turned toward them. But not a trace of anxiety or doubt could be discerned on his frank and open countenance; for he possessed that faith in his project that is able to remove mountains.

The next matter of importance was to select the crew. There was ample material to choose from, for hundreds of volunteers from abroad offered themselves, besides Norwegians. But it was a Norwegian expedition--her crew, then, must be exclusively a national crew! And so Otto Sverdrup, who had earned his laurels in the Greenland expedition; Sigurd Scott-Hansen, first lieutenant in the royal navy; Henrik Greve Blessing, surgeon; Theodor Claudius Jacobsen and Adolf Juell of the mercantile marine; Anton Amundsen and Lars Petterson, engineers; Frederik Hjalmar Johansen, lieutenant of the royal army reserve, Peter Leonard Henriksen, harpooner; Bernt Nordahl, electrician; Ivar Otto Irgens Mogstad, head keeper at the lunatic asylum; and Bernt Berntsen, common sailor,--were selected. Most of them were married and had children.

Sverdrup was to be the Fram's commander, for Nansen knew that the ship would be safer in his hands than in his own.

Finally, after an incredible deal of hard work in getting everything in order, the day of their departure arrived.

It was midsummer--a dull, gloomy day. The Fram, heavily laden, is lying at Pipperviken Quay, waiting for Nansen. The appointed hour is past, and yet there are no signs of him. Members of the storthing, who had a.s.sembled there to bid him farewell, can wait no longer, and the crowds of people that line the quay are one and all anxiously gazing over the fjord.

But presently a quick-sailing little petroleum boat heaves in sight. It swings round Dyna, [37] and quickly lies alongside the Fram; and Nansen goes on board his ship at once, and gives the order to "go ahead." Every eye is fixed on him. He is as calm as ever, firm as a rock, but his face is pale.

The anchor is weighed; and after making the tour of the little creek, the Fram steams down the fjord. "Full speed" is the command issued from the bridge; and as she proceeds on her way, Nansen turns round to take a farewell look over Svartebugta where G.o.dthaab lies. He discerns a glimpse of a woman's form dressed in white by the bench under the fir-tree, and then turns his face away; it was there he had bidden her farewell. Little Liv, his only child, had been carried by her mother, crowing and smiling, to bid father good-by, and he had taken her in his arms.

"Yes, you smile, little one!" he said; "but I"--and he sobbed.

This had taken place but an hour before. And now he was standing on the bridge alone, leaving all he held dear behind.

The twelve men who accompanied him,--they, too, had made sacrifices,--each had his own sorrow to meet at this hour; but at the word of command, one and all went about their duty as if nothing was amiss.

For the first few days it was fine weather, but on getting out as far as Lindesnaes [38] it became very stormy. The ship rolled like a log, and seas broke over the rails on both sides. Great fear was entertained lest the deck cargo should be carried overboard, a contingency, indeed, that soon occurred; for twenty-five empty paraffin casks broke loose from their lashings, and a quant.i.ty of reserve timber balks followed.

"It was an anxious time," says Nansen. "Seasick I stood on the bridge, alternately offering libations to the G.o.ds of the sea, and trembling for the safety of the boats and of the men who were trying to make snug what they could on deck. Now a green sea poured over us, and knocked one fellow off his legs so that he was deluged; now the lads were jumping over hurtling spars to avoid getting their feet crushed. There was not a dry thread on them. Juell was lying asleep in the 'Grand Hotel,' as we called one of the long boats, and awoke to find the sea roaring under him. I met him at the cabin door as he came running down. Once the Fram buried her bows and shipped a sea over the forecastle. One fellow was clinging to the anchor davits over the foaming water; it was poor Juell again."

Then all the casks, besides a quant.i.ty of timber, had to be thrown overboard. It was, indeed, an anxious time.

But fine weather came at last, and Bergen turned out to meet them in brilliant sunshine. Then on again, along the wonderful coast of Norway, while the people on sh.o.r.e stood gazing after them, marvelling as they pa.s.sed.

At Beian [39] Sverdrup joined the ship, and Berntsen, the thirteenth member of the crew, at Tromso. [40]

Still onward toward the north, till finally the last glimpse of their native country faded from their sight in the hazy horizon, and a dense fog coming on enveloped them in its shroud. They were to have met the Urania, laden with coal, in Jugor straits; but as that vessel had not arrived, and time was precious, the Fram proceeded on her course, after having shipped a number of Esquimau dogs which a Russian, named Trontheim, had been commissioned to procure for the expedition. It was here that Nansen took leave of his secretary, Cristophersen, who was to return by the Urania; and the last tie that united them with Norway was severed.

The Fram now heads out from the Jugor straits into the dreaded Kara sea, which many had prophesied would be her destruction. But they worked their way through storm and ice, at times satisfactorily, at others encountering slight mishaps; but the Fram proved herself to be a reliable iceworthy vessel, and Nansen felt more and more convinced that, when the ice-pressure began in real earnest, she would acquit herself well.

"It was a royal pleasure," he writes, "to take her into difficult ice. She twists and turns like a ball on a plate--and so strong! If she runs into a floe at full speed, she scarcely utters a sound, only quivers a little, perhaps."

When, as was often the case, they had to anchor on account of bad weather, Nansen and his companions would go ash.o.r.e, either for the purpose of taking observations or for sport. One day they shot two bears and sundry reindeer; but, when they started to row back to the Fram in the evening, they had a severe task before them. For a strong breeze was blowing, and the current was dead against them. "We rowed as if our finger-tips would burst," says Nansen, "but could hardly make any headway. So we had to go in under land again to get out of the current. But no sooner did we set out for the Fram again than we got into it once more, and then the whole manoeuvre had to be repeated, with the same result. Presently a buoy was lowered from the ship: if we could only reach it, all would be right. But no such luck was in store for us yet. We would make one more desperate effort, and we rowed with a will, every muscle of our bodies strained to the utmost. But to our vexation we now saw the buoy being hauled up. We rowed a little to the windward of the Fram, and then tried again to sheer over. This time we got nearer her than we had been before, but still no buoy was thrown over--not even a man was to be seen on deck. We roared like madmen," writes Nansen, "for a buoy--we had no strength left for another attempt. It was not a pleasing prospect to have to drift back, and go ash.o.r.e again in our wet clothes,--we would get on board! Once more we yelled like wild Indians, and now they came rushing aft, and threw out the buoy in our direction. We put our last strength into our oars. There were only a few boat-lengths to cover, and the lads bent flat over the thwarts. Now only three boat-lengths. Another desperate spurt! Now only two and a half boat-lengths--presently two--then only one! A few more frantic pulls, and there was a little less. 'Now, my lads, one or two more hard pulls--keep to it!--Now another--don't give in--one more--there we have it!' And a joyful sigh of relief pa.s.sed round the boat. 'Keep her going, or the rope will break--row, my lads!' And row we did, and soon they had hauled us alongside the Fram. Not till we were lying there, getting our bearskins and flesh hauled on board, did we realize what we had had to fight against. The current was running along the side of the ship like a millstream. At last we were on board. It was evening by this time, and it was a comfort to get some hot food, and then stretch one's limbs in a comfortable, dry berth."

The Fram proceeded on her course the next day, pa.s.sing a number of unknown islands, to which Nansen gave names. Among these were Scott-Hansen's Islands, Ringnes, Mohns, etc.

On Sept. 6, the anniversary of Nansen's wedding, they pa.s.sed Taimar Island, and after a prosperous pa.s.sage through open water reached Cape Tscheljuskin on Sept. 9.

Nansen was sitting in the crow's nest that evening. The weather was perfectly still, and the sky lay in a dream of gold and yellow. A solitary star was visible; it stood directly over Cape Tscheljuskin, twinkling brightly, though sadly, in the pale sky overhead. As the vessel proceeded on her course it seemed to follow them. There was something about that star that attracted Nansen's attention, and brought him peace. It was as it were his star, and he felt that she who was at home was sending him a message by it. Meanwhile the Fram toiled on through the gloomy melancholy of the night out into the unknown.

In the morning, when the sun rose up, a salute was fired, and high festival held on board.

A few days later a herd of walrus was sighted. It was a lovely morning, and perfectly calm, so that they could distinctly hear their bellowings over the clear surface of the water, as they lay in a heap on an ice-floe, the blue mountains glittering in the sunlight in the background.

"My goodness, what a lot of meat!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Juell, the cook. And at once Nansen, Juell, and Henriksen set out after them, Juell rowing, Nansen armed with a gun, and Henriksen with a harpoon. On getting to close quarters Henriksen threw the harpoon at the nearest walrus, but it struck too high, and glanced off the tough hide, and went skipping over the rounded backs of the others. Now all was stir and life. Ten or a dozen of the bulky animals waddled with upraised heads to the extreme edge of the floe, whereupon Nansen took aim at the largest, and fired. The brute staggered, and fell headlong into the water. Another bullet into a second walrus was attended with the same result, and the rest of the herd plunged into the water, so that it boiled and seethed. Soon, however, they were up again, all around the boat, standing upright in the water, bellowing and roaring till the air shook. Every now and then they would make a dash toward the boat, then dive, and come up again. The sea boiled like a cauldron, and every moment they seemed about to dash their tusks through the side of the boat, and capsize it. Fortunately, however, this did not occur. Walrus after walrus was shot by Nansen, while Henriksen was busy with his harpoon to prevent them sinking.

At last, after a favorable journey through open water, the Fram finally reached firm ice on Sept. 25, and allowed herself to be frozen in; for winter was fast approaching, and it was no longer possible to drive her through the ice.

CHAPTER VIII.