Fridtjof Nansen Part 7

Drifting Through the Ice.--Christmas.--Daily Life on the Fram.--Bear-Hunt and Ice-Pressure.

From Sept. 26 the Fram lay frozen in in the drift-ice, and many a long day would pa.s.s ere she would be loose again. Nansen's theory of a current over the North Pole would now be proved to be correct or the reverse.

It was a monotonous time that was approaching for the men on board. At first they drifted but very little northward, each succeeding day bringing but little alteration; but they kept a good heart, for they had not to suffer from lack of anything that could conduce to their comfort. They had a good ship, excellently equipped, and so pa.s.sed the days as best they could,--now occupying themselves with seeing to the dogs or taking observations, etc.; while reading, playing cards, chess, halma, and making all kinds of implements, filled up the remainder of their time. Every now and then the monotony of their existence would undergo variation, when the ice-pressure set in. Then there was plenty of life and stir on board, and all hands would turn out to do battle with the foe.

It was on Monday, Oct. 9, that the Fram underwent her first experience of a regular ice-pressure. Nansen and the others were sitting after dinner, as usual, chatting about one thing and another, when all at once a deafening sound was heard, and the ship quivered from stem to stern. Up they rushed on deck; for now the Fram was to be put to the test--and gloriously she pa.s.sed through it! When the ice nipped she lifted herself up, as if raised by invisible hands, and pushed the floes down below her.

An ice-pressure is a most wonderful thing. Let us hear what Nansen says of it:--

"It begins with a gentle crack and moan along the ship's sides, gradually sounding louder in every conceivable key. Now it is a high plaintive tone, now it is a grumble, now it is a snarl, and the ship gives a start up. Steadily the noise increases till it is like all the pipes of an organ; the ship trembles and shakes, and rises by fits and starts, or is gently lifted up. But presently the uproar slackens, and the ship sinks down into her old position again, as if in a safe bed."

But woe to them who have not such a ship to resort to under a pressure like this; for when once it begins in real earnest, it is as if there could not be a spot on the earth's surface that would not tremble and shake.

"First," says Nansen, "you hear a sound like the thundering rumble of an earthquake far away on the great waste; then you hear it in several places, always coming nearer and nearer. The silent ice world re-echoes with thunders; nature's giants are awakening to the battle. The ice cracks on every side of you, and begins to pile itself up in heaps. There are howlings and thunderings around you; you feel the ice trembling, and hear it rumbling under your feet. In the semi-darkness you can see it piling and tossing itself up into high ridges,--floes ten, twelve, fifteen feet thick, broken and flung up on the top of each other,--you jump away to save your life. But the ice splits in front of you; a black gulf opens, and the water streams up. You turn in another direction; but there through the dark you can just see a new ridge of moving ice-blocks coming toward you. You try another direction, but there it is just the same. All around there is thundering and roaring, as of some enormous waterfall with explosions like cannon salvoes. Still nearer you it comes. The floe you are standing on gets smaller and smaller; water pours over it; there can be no escape except by scrambling over the ice-blocks to get to the other side of the pack. But little by little the disturbance calms down again, and the noise pa.s.ses on and is lost by degrees in the distance."

Another thing brought life and stir into the camp, viz., "bears." And many a time the cry of "bears" was heard in those icy plains.

In Farthest North, Nansen describes a number of amusing incidents with these animals. We must, however, content ourselves with giving only a brief sketch of some of the most interesting of these.

Nansen and Sverdrup, and indeed several of the others, had shot polar bears before; but some of their number were novices in the sport, among whom were Blessing, Johansen and Scott-Hansen. One day, when the latter were taking observations a short distance from the ship, a bear was seen but a little way off--in fact, just in front of the Fram.

"Hush! don't make a noise, or we shall frighten him," said Hansen; and they all crouched down to watch him.

"I think I'd better slip off on board and tell them about it," said Blessing. And off he started on tiptoe, so as not to alarm the bear.

The beast meanwhile came sniffing and shambling along toward where they were, so that evidently he had not been frightened.

Catching sight of Blessing, who was slinking off to the ship, the brute made straight for him.

Blessing, seeing that the bear was by no means alarmed, now made his way back to his companions as quickly as he could, closely followed by the bear. Matters began to look rather serious, and they each s.n.a.t.c.hed up their weapons. Hansen, an ice-staff, Johansen, an axe, and Blessing nothing at all, shouting at the top of their voices, "Bear! bear!" after which they all took to their heels as fast as ever they could for the ship. The bear, however, held on his course toward the tent, which he examined very closely before following on their tracks. The animal was subsequently shot on approaching the Fram. Nansen was not a little surprised on finding in its stomach a piece of paper stamped, "Lutken & Mohn, Christiania," which he recognized as belonging to the ship.

On another occasion, toward the end of 1893, Hendriksen, whose business it was to see to the dogs that were tethered on an ice-floe, came tearing into the ship, and shouting, "Come with a gun! Come with a gun!" The bear, it seems, had bitten him on his side. Nansen immediately caught up his gun, as also did Hendriksen, and off they set after the bear. There was a confused sound of human voices on the starboard side of the ship, while on the ice below the gangway the dogs were making a tremendous uproar.

Nansen put his gun up to his shoulder, but it wouldn't go off. There was a plug of tow in the barrel. And Hendriksen kept crying out, "Shoot, shoot! mine won't go off!" There he stood clicking and clicking, for his gun was stuffed up with vaseline. Meanwhile the bear was lying close under the ship, worrying one of the dogs. The mate, too, was fumbling away at his gun, which was also plugged, while Mogstad, the fourth man, was brandishing an empty rifle, for he had shot all his cartridges away, crying out, "Shoot him! shoot him!" The fifth man, Scott-Hansen, was lying in the pa.s.sage leading into the chart-room, groping after cartridges through a narrow c.h.i.n.k in the door; for Kvik's kennel stood against it, so that he could not get it wide open. At last, however, Johansen came, and fired right into the bear's hide. This shot had the effect of making the brute let go of the dog, which jumped up and ran away. Several shots were now fired, which killed the bear.

Hendriksen tells this story about his being bitten:--

"You see," he said, "as I was going along with the lantern, I saw some drops of blood by the gangway, but thought one of the dogs had very likely cut its foot. On the ice, however, we saw bear-tracks, and started off to the west, the whole pack of dogs with us running on ahead. When we had got some little distance from the Fram, we heard a terrible row in front, and presently saw a great brute coming straight toward us, closely followed by the dogs. No sooner did we see what it was than we set off for the ship as fast as we could. Mogstad had his Lappish moccasons on, and knew the way better than I did, so he got to the ship before me; for I couldn't go very fast with these heavy wooden shoes, you see. I missed my way, I suppose, for I found myself on the big hummock to the west of the ship's bows. There I took a good look round, to see if the bear was after me. But I could not see any signs of it, so I started off again, but fell down flat on my back among the hummocks. Oh, yes, I was soon up again, and got down to the level ice near the ship's side, when I saw something coming at me on the right. At first I thought it was one of the dogs; for it isn't so easy to see in the dark, you know. But I hadn't much time for thinking, for the brute jumped right on me, and bit me here, on the side. I had lifted my arm up like this, you see, and then he bit me on the hip, growling and foaming at the mouth all the while."

"What did you think then, Peter?" asked Nansen.

"What did I think? Why, I thought it was all up with me. I hadn't any weapon, you see; so I took my lantern and hit the beast as hard as ever I could with it on the head, and the lantern broke, and the pieces went skimming over the ice. On receiving the blow I gave him he squatted down and had a good look at me; but no sooner did I set off again than up he got too, whether to have another go at me, or what for, I can't say. Anyhow, he caught sight of a dog coming along, and set off after it, and so I got on board."

"Did you call out, Peter?"

"I should think I did! I holloaed as loud as ever I could!"

And no doubt he did, for he was quite hoa.r.s.e.

"But where was Mogstad all the while?" asked Nansen.

"Why, you see, he had got to the ship long before me. It never occurred to him, I suppose, to give the alarm; but he takes his gun off the cabin wall, thinking he could manage by himself. But his gun wouldn't go off, and the bear might have had plenty of time to eat me up right under his very nose."

On leaving Peter, the bear, it seems, had set off after the dogs; and it was in this way it came near the ship, where, after killing one of the dogs, it was shot.

In the course of the winter Sverdrup set up a bear-trap of his own invention, but it did not prove very successful. One evening, a bear was seen approaching the trap; it was a bright moonlight night, much to Sverdrup's delight. On reaching the trap, the bear reared itself on its hind legs very cautiously, laid his right paw on the woodwork, stared for a little while at the tempting bait, but didn't seem to approve altogether of the ugly rows of teeth around it. Shaking his head suspiciously, he lowered himself on all fours, and sniffed at the steel wire fastened to the trap, and once more shook his head as if to say, "Those cunning beggars have planned this very carefully for me, no doubt." Then he got up again on his hind legs and had another sniff, and down again on all fours, after which he came toward the ship and was shot.

Autumn pa.s.sed away and Christmas arrived while the Fram was drifting between seventy-nine and eighty-one degrees north lat.i.tude. This tedious drifting was a sore trial to Nansen. He often thought that there must be some error in his calculations, often very nearly lost heart. But then he thought of those at home who had made such sacrifices for him, and of those on board who placed such implicit faith in him; while overhead the star--his star--shone out brilliantly in the wintry night, and inspired him with renewed courage.

The time was now drawing near when their first Christmas on board should be kept. The polar night, with its prolonged darkness and biting cold, brooded over the ship, and ice-pressures thundered all around.

Christmas Eve was ushered in with -35 Fahrenheit. The Fram lay in seventy-nine degrees, eleven minutes, north lat.i.tude, two minutes farther south than was the case a week before.

There was a peculiar feeling of solemnity on board. Every one was thinking of home, and trying at the same time to keep his thoughts to himself, and so there was more noise and laughter than usual. They ate and they drank and made speeches, and the Christmas presents were given out, and the Framsjaa, the Fram's newspaper, with an extra ill.u.s.trated Christmas number, appeared.

In the poem for the day it said:--

"When the ship is hemmed in by ice fathom-thick, When we drift at the will of the stream, When the white veil of winter is spread all around, In our sleep of our dear home we dream.

Let us wish them a right merry Christmas at home, Good luck may the coming year bring; We'll be patient and wait, for the Pole we will gain, Then hurrah for our home in the spring."

The menu for Christmas Eve was:--

1. Oxtail Soup.

2. Fish Pudding.

3. Reindeer-steak and Green Peas. French Beans, Potatoes, and Huckleberry Jelly.

4. Cloudberries and Cream.

5. Cake and Marzipan.

6. Beer.

The Nansen lads knew how to live. But this night they had no supper; they simply could not manage it. Indeed, it was all they could do to get through an extra dessert, consisting of pineapple preserve, honey-cakes, vanilla biscuits, cocoa macaroons, figs, raisins, almonds, etc.

The banquet was held in their cosey saloon, which was lighted with electric lights; and in the evening they had organ recitals, songs, and many other recreations. Yes, there was merriment galore on the Fram, frozen in though she was in the Polar sea.

If it had not been for the noise of the ice-pressures they might indeed have imagined themselves to be in the very middle of civilization. In their inmost hearts they longed for a pressure,--a pressure of the hand from dear ones at home. A long time must elapse before that could be.

Then came New Year's Eve, with a brilliant aurora shining overhead, and still each one on board felt that irrepressible longing in his heart.

Nansen read out on this occasion the last salutation he had received from Norway. It was a telegram from Professor Moltke Moe at Tromso:--

"Luck on the way, Sun on the sea, Sun in your minds, Help from the winds.

Wide open floes Part and unclose Where the ship goes.

Onward! Good cheer!