 I felt in a strange mood as I sat up the last night writing letters and telegrams. We had bidden farewell to our excellent pilot, Johan Hugginson, who had piloted us from Bergen, and now we were only the thirteen members of the expedition, together with my secretary, Christopherson, who had accompanied us so far and was to go on with us as far as Eugor Strait. Everything was so calm and still, safe for the scraping of the pen that was sending off a farewell to friends at home. All the men were asleep below. The last telegram was written, and I sent my secretary ashore with it. It was three o'clock in the morning when he returned, and I called Svéridrop up and wanted to others. We weighed anchor and stood out of the harbour in the silence of the morning. The towns still lay wrapped in sleep. Everything looked so peaceful and lovely all around, with the exception of a little stir of awakening toil on board one single steamer in the harbour. A sleepy fisherman stuck his head up out of the half-deck of his ten-ord boat, and stared at us as we steamed past the breakwater, and on the revenue-cutter outside there was a man fishing in that early morning light. This last impression of Norway was just the right one for us to carry away with us. Such beneficent peace and calm, such a rest for the thoughts, no hubbub and turmoil of people with their hurrahs and salutes. The masts in the harbour, the house-roofs and chimneys stood out against the cool morning sky. Just then the sun broke through the mist and smiled over the shore, rugged, bare, and weather-worn in the hazy morning, but still lovely, dotted here and there with tiny houses and boats, and all Norway lay behind it. While the Fram was slowly and quietly working her way out to sea towards our distant goal, I stood and watched the land gradually fading away on the horizon. I wonder what will happen to her and to us before we again see Norway rising up over the sea. But a fog soon came on and obscured everything, and through fog nothing but fog we steamed away for four days without stopping until when I came on deck on the morning of the twenty-fifth of July, behold clear weather. The sun was shining in a cloudless sky, the bright blue sea was heaving with a gentle swell. Again it was good to be a living being and to drink in the peacefulness of the sea in long draughts. Towards noon we sighted goose-land on Novia's Emilia and stood in towards it. Guns and cartridges were got ready and we looked forward with joyful anticipation to roast goose and other game. But we had gone but a short distance when the gray woolly fog from the southeast came up and enveloped us. Again we were shut off from the world around us. It was scarcely prudent to make for land, so we set our coarsed eastwards towards Ugor Strait. But a headwind soon compelled us to beat up under steam and sail, which we went on doing for a couple of days plunged in a world of fog, that endless stubborn fog of the Arctic Sea. When it lowers its curtain and shuts out the blue above and the blue below, and everything becomes a damp gray mist day in and day out, then all the vigor and elasticity of the soul is needed to save one from being stifled in its clammy embrace. Fog and nothing but fog wherever we turn our eyes. It condenses on the rigging and drips down on every tiniest spot on deck. It lodges on your clothes and finally wets you through and through. It settles down on the mind and spirits, and everything becomes one uniform gray. On the evening of July 27th, while still fogbound, we quite unexpectedly met with ice, a mere strip, indeed, which we easily passed through, but it boated ill. In the night we met with more, a broader strip this time, which also we passed through. But next morning I was called up with the information that there was thick old ice ahead. Well, if ice difficulties were to begin so soon, it would be a bad lookout, indeed. Such are the chill surprises that the Arctic Sea has more than enough of. I dressed and was up in the crow's nest in a twinkling. The ice lay extended everywhere, as far as the eye could reach through the fog which had lifted a little. There was no small quantity of ice, but it was tolerably open, and there was nothing for it but to be true to our watchword and gaw from, push onwards. For a good while we picked our way, but now it began to lie closer with large flows every year and there, and at the same time the fog grew denser and we could not see our way at all. To go ahead in difficult ice and in a fog is not very prudent, for it is impossible to tell just where you are going, and you are apt to be set fast before you know where you are. So we had to stop and wait. But still the fog grew ever denser while the ice did the same. Our hopes meanwhile rose and fell, but mostly the latter, I think. To encounter so much ice already in these waters, where at this time of year the sea is, as a rule, quite free from it, boated anything but good. Already at Tromsø and Vardo we had heard bad news. The white sea, they said, had only been clear of ice a very short time, and a boat that had tried to reach Eugor Strait had had to turn back because of the ice. Neither were our anticipations of the Karsi altogether cheerful. What might we not expect there? For the uranium with our coal, too, this ice was a bad business, for it would be unable to make its way through unless it had found navigable water further south along the Russian coast. Just as our prospects were at their darkest, and we were preparing to seek a way back out of the ice which kept getting ever denser, the joyful tidings came that the fog was lifting and that clear water was visible ahead to the east on the other side of the ice. After forcing our way ahead for some hours between the heavy flows, we were once more in open water. This first bout with the ice, however, showed us plainly what an excellent ice boat the Fram was. It was a royal pleasure to work her ahead through difficult ice. She twisted and turned like a ball on a platter. No channel between the flows so winding and awkward but she could get through it. But it is hard work for the helmsmen. Harder starboard, harder port, steady, harder starboard again, goes on incessantly without so much as a breathing space, and he rattles the wheel round, the sweat pours off him, and round it goes again like a spinning wheel. And the ship swings round and wriggles her way forward among the flows without touching. If there is only just an opening wide enough for her to slip through, and where there is none, she drives full tilt at the ice with her heavy plunge, runs her sloping boughs up on it, treads it under her and bursts the flows asunder. And how strong she is too. Even when she goes full speed at a flow, not a creek, not a sound is to be heard in her. If she gives a little shake, it is all she does. On Saturday, July 29th, we again headed eastwards towards Ugor Strait as fast as sails and steam could take us. We had open sea ahead, the weather was fine, and the wind fair. Next morning we came under the south side of Dolgoi, or Longuja as the Norwegian whalers call it, where we had to stand to the northward. On reaching the north of the island we again bore eastwards. Here I described from the crow's nest, as far as I could make out, several islands which are not given on the charts. They lay a little to the east of Longuja. It was now pretty clear that the Urania had not made her way through the ice. While we were sitting in the saloon in the forenoon talking about it, a cry was heard from deck that the sloop was in sight. It was joyful news, but the joy was of no long duration. The next moment we heard she had a crow's nest on her mast, so she was doubtless a sealer. When she sighted us she bore off to the south, probably fearing that we were a Russian warship or something equally bad, so as we had no particular interest in her we let her go on her way in peace. Later in the day we neared Ugor Strait. We kept a sharp look out for land ahead, but none could be seen. Hour after hour passed as we glided onwards at good speed, but still no land. Certainly it would not be high land, but nevertheless this was strange. Yes there it lies like a low shadow over her horizon on the port bow. It is land, it is Vygots Island. Soon we sight more of it, abaft the beam, then to the mainland on the south side of the strait. More and more of it comes in sight. It increases rapidly, all low and level land, no heights, no variety, no apparent opening for the strait ahead. Thence it stretches away to the north and south in a soft low curve. This is the threshold of Asia's boundless plains, so different from all we have been used to. We now glided into the strait with its low rocky shores on either side. The strata of the rocks lie endways and are crumpled and broken, but on the surface everything is level and smooth. No one who travels over the flat green plains and tundras would have any idea of the mysteries and upheavals that lie hidden beneath the sword. Here once upon a time were mountains and valleys, now all worn away and washed out. We looked out for Cabarova. On the north side of the sound there was a mark, a ship wrecked sloop lay on the shore, it was a Norwegian sealer. The wreck of a smaller vessel lay by its side. On the south side was a flagstaff, and on it a red flag. Cabarova must then lie behind it. At last one or two buildings or shanties appeared behind a promontory and soon the whole place lay exposed to view, consisting of tents and a few houses. On a little jutting out point close by us was a large red building with white door frames of a very home-like appearance. It was indeed a Norwegian warehouse, which Siberiakov had imported from Finmarken. But here the water was shallow, and we had to proceed carefully for fear of running aground. We kept heaving the lead incessantly. We had five fathoms of water, and then four, then not much more than we needed, and then it shelved to a little over three fathoms. This was rather too close work, so we stood out again a bit to wait till we got a little nearer the place before drawing in to the shore. A boat was now seen slowly approaching from the land. A man of middle height with an open kindly face and reddish beard came on board. He might have been a Norwegian from his appearance. I went to meet him and asked him in German if he was Trondheim. Yes, he was. After him there came a number of strange figures clad in heavy robes of reindeer skin, which nearly touched the deck. On their heads they were peculiar Boschlich, like caps of rain-calf skin beneath which strongly marked bearded faces showed forth such as might well have belonged to old Norwegian Vikings. The whole scene indeed called up in my mind a picture of the Viking Age, of expeditions to Garderica and Bjarmaland. They were fine stalwart-looking fellows, these Russian traitors who barter with the natives giving them brandy in exchange for bear skins, seal skins and other valuables, and who, when once they have a hold on a man, keep him in such a state of dependence that he can scarcely call his soul his own. Next Ein Altykushekta, Duck Verdzi Immerneux. Soon too the Samoyeds came flocking on board, pleasant-featured people of the broad Asiatic type. Of course it was only the men who came. The first question I asked Trondheim was about the ice. He replied that Eugor Strait had been open a long while and that he had been expecting our arrival every day since then with ever-increasing anxiety. The natives and the Russians had begun to cheer at him as time went on and no from was to be seen. But now he had his revenge and was all sunshine. He thought the state of the ice in the Kara Sea would be favourable. Some Samoyeds had said so who had been seal-hunting near the eastern entrance of the Strait a day or two previously. This was not very much to build upon certainly, but still sufficient to make us regret that we had not got there before. Then we spoke of the Urania, of which no one of course had seen anything. No ship had put in there for some time except the sealing sloop we had passed in the morning. Next we inquired about the dogs and learned that everything was all right with them. To make sure Trondheim had purchased forty dogs, though I had only asked for thirty. Five of these from various mishaps had died during their journey. One had been bitten to death, two had got hung fast and had been strangled while passing through a forest, etc., etc. One, moreover, had been taken ill a few days before and was still on the sick list. But the remaining thirty-four were in good condition. We could hear them howling and barking. During this conversation we had come as near to Cabarova as we dared venture, and at seven in the evening cast anchor in about three fathoms of water. Over the supper table Trondheim told us his adventures. On the way from Sofa 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 Eugor 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 nonetheless. The Samoyeds 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 to shore, and were soon on the flat beach of Cabarova, the Russians and the Samoyeds 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 assistants were living there now, and had asked Trondheim to take up his quarters with them. Trondheim therefore invited us in, and we soon found ourselves in a couple of comfortable, log-built rooms with open fireplaces like our Norwegian peyas. After this we proceeded to the dog-camp, which was situated on a plane at some distance from the house's intense. 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. Trondheim'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 upstanding 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, ed-mixture of European blood. After having duly admired the ravenous way in which they swallowed raw fish, guinead, 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 Cabarova. According to what Trondheim 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 Trondheim to bid us welcome, and on the flag itself, as I afterwards discovered by chance, was the word vorwards. Trondheim 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 from 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. Trondheim told me afterwards that he was by descent to Norwegian, his father having been a ship's captain from Trondheim, and his mother, an Estonian, settled at Riga. His father had been much at sea, and had died early, so the sun had not learned 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 too. As it would take several days to do this, Sferdrup, Peter Henrickson and I set out next morning in our little petroleum lounge to the eastern opening of the Eugor Strait to see with our own eyes what might be the condition of the ice to the eastward. It was twenty-eight miles thither. A quantity of ice was drifting through the strait from the east, and as there was a northerly breeze we had once turned our course northwards to get under the lee of the north shore where the water was more open. I had the rather thankless task of acting as helmsmen 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 shore, where after two hours' hard work I got the engine's so far in order as to be able to continue our journey to the northeast through the sound between the drifting flows. 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 great 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, heraldiglacialis or other birds came whizzing by us, one or two of them invariably falling to our guns. We had kept along the viagra shore, 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 Ugor strait. A brownish-green carpet of moss and grass spread over the plain, bestroomed with flowers of rare beauty. During the long cold Siberian winter the snow lies in a thick mass 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 last disappearing coating of snow and open their modest callesies, blushing in the radiant summer day that bathes the plain in its splendor. Sacks of redges with large blooms, pale yellow mountain poppies, pep of our nudicolly, stand in bright clusters, and here and there with bluish forget-me-nots and white cloudberry flowers. In some boggy hollows the cotton grass spreads its wavy down carpet, while in other spots small forests of blue-bells 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. 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-glass I discovered that they were snow owls. We set out after them, but they took care to keep out of the range of a fouling piece. Sphere-drip, 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 grass or stones, watching no doubt for lemmings of which judging from their tracks there must have been quantities we, however, did not see any. From the tops of the ridges we could see over the Kharasi to the northeast, everywhere ice could be described through the telescope far on the horizon, ice too that seemed tolerably close and massive. 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, Sferdrup 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 onto a sunken rock. After a bump 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 screwblade 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 drove near the from, passing two Samoyeds who had drawn their boat up on an ice flow and were looking out for seals. I wonder what they thought when they saw our tiny boats shoot by them without steam, sails, or oars. We at all events looked down on those poor savages with a self-satisfied compassion of Europeans as comfortably seated we dashed past them. But pride comes before a fall. We had not gone far when whirr, whirr, whirr, 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 forwards or backwards. The vibration of the one-bladed propeller had brought the lead line little by little within the range of the flywheel, 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 those flesh-pots we had long been and hungered. The net result of the day was, tolerably good news about the carousel, forty birds principally geese and long-tailed ducks, one seal, and a disabled boat. Emerson 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 the Samoyeds 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 shore afterwards to Trondheim and said that I could not possibly be a great person, slaving away like any other workmen on board and looking worse than a common rough. Trondheim, unfortunately, knew nothing that could be said in my excuse. There is no fighting against facts. In the evening some of us went on shore to try the dogs. Trondheim picked out ten of them and harnessed them to a Samoyed 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 pityably, while Trondheim tore round like a madman, striking right and left with his long switch. Samoyeds and Russians came screaming from all sides. I sat passively 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. Trondheim cracked his whip and called purr, purr, and off we went at a wild gallop over grass, 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 the Trondheim and I with our united strength could do to stop them just as they were going into the water although we shouted sa, sa, so that it echoed over the whole of Cabarova. But at last we got our team turned in another direction, and off we sat 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 dog's strength, seeing how easily they drew two men over this to put it mildly bad sludging ground. We want 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 passes 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 Trondheim, on his side, was at least equally astonished, and informed me that in Siberia castrated dogs are considered the best. 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 the four whole dogs and Kvick, the bitch I had brought with me from home. Next day, August 1st, there was a great religious festival in Cabarova, that of St. Elias. Samoyeds 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 with 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, Trondheim 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 shore 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 Siberiakov's warehouse. I also took a walk up the hill to the west to Trondheim's flagstaff and looked out to the sea in that direction after the uranium, but there was nothing to be seen except an unbroken sea-line. Loaded with my find I returned to Cabarova, 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 tux, and great colored bows at the end of plates of hair which hung far down their backs. Before service an old Samoyed and a comely young girl let 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 Samoyeds in 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 Siberiakov, or perhaps to be sure of heaven. From what I got out of Trondheim 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. Today was high festival in both churches. All the Samoyeds 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 today they had clubbed together and offered the priest of the new church two rubles 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 Samoyeds 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 shore 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 Samoyed in particular had made an ineffasible impression on them. He mounted a sledge, lashed at the reindeer, and drove a muck 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 rains, 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 the next day. Most of them slept all day after the orgy 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 passing. I had long ago given up on the Urania. We did not really need more coal. The wind had been favourable for several days. It was the south wind which was certainly blowing the ice to the northward in the Kara Sea. Sphere drip 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 Trondheim in recognition of the great care with which he had executed his difficult commission and the valuable assistance thereby rendered to the expedition. His honest face beamed at the sight of the beautiful medal and the bright ribbon. Next day, August 3rd, we were at last ready for a start, and the thirty-four 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 Christopherson was to leave the ship. We supplied him with the barest sufficiency of provisions and some ringnesses ale. While this was being done, last lines were added in feverish eagerness to the letter's home. Then came a last-hand clasp. Christopherson and Trondheim 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 Oloneck, 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 favourable as I could have wished it to be. TRONTIME'S NARRATIVE Alexander Ivanovich Trondheim 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. Krilov from Trondheim's story. The following is a short resume. After having made the contract with Baron Toll, Trondheim was on January 28th, January 16th by Russian Reckoning, already at Berazov, where there was then a Yasek meeting and consequently a great assembly of Ostiax and Samoyeds. Trondheim made use of this opportunity and bought thirty-three, this ought probably to be forty, choice sledge dogs. These he conveyed to the little country town of Muzi, where he made preparations for the very long journey, passing the time in this way till April 16th. By this date he had prepared three hundred pud, about nine thousand six hundred pounds, of dog provender consisting chiefly of dried fish. For three hundred rubles he engaged a Syrian named Tarentyov with a reindeer herd of four hundred fifty to convey him, his dogs, and baggage to Yugoor Strait. For three months these two with her caravan, reindeer, drivers, dogs, women and children, traveled 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 Muzi the expedition passed up the Voikara River to its sources, and here began the ascent of the Ural Mountains by the pass of Shayila, Shola. 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 Usa, on the banks of which lay the hut of the Syrian Nikitska. This was the one inhabited spot in this enormous tract of country, and here they stopped two weeks to rest the reindeer and get provinder for them. The country lying between the sources of the Valkara and the Usa is wooded in every direction. Between the River Usa and the River Vorkuta and even beyond that, Trontheim and his company traveled 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 Syrians 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. God helped the herd that this happens to. The disease passes rapidly from animal to animal, and scores may die of it in a day. In this region there are many bogs. The lowland forms one continuous morass. Sometimes we had to walk up to the waste 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 the 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 Syrian reindeer driver and trader. From him they bought two bottles of wine, brandy, at seventy copex 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 Syrian's keen eye detects another herd or smoke from inhabited tents, ten bursts off, and a nomad who has discovered the presence of another human being, ten or twelve bursts off, never let 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 samoyeds who had heard of the caravan came on four sledges to the camp. They were entertained with tea. The conversation carried on in samoyed was about the health of the reindeer, our journey and the way to Eugorstrade. 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 Trondheim was due at Eugorstrade. He was obliged to hasten the rate of traveling, which was not an easy matter, with more than forty sledges and four hundred fifty 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 Syrians took ten sledges and went on with Trondheim. At last on July 9th, after more wanderings, they saw the sea from a high hill, and next day they reached Cabarova, where Trondheim learned that no steamer had arrived yet in Eugorstrade nor had any sail been seen. At this time the whole shore of Eugorstrade and all the sea within sight was covered with ice, driven there by northerly winds. The sea was not quite open till July 22nd. Trondheim passed the time while he was waiting for the from in hunting and making excursions with his dogs, which were in excellent condition. He was often in the Siberiakov colony, a meeting place for the Samoyeds 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 Pustosersk, come for the purpose of bartering with the Samoyeds, and sometimes the Syrians too for their wares, bear skins, blubber and seal skins, 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 Samoyed has an insatiable craving. When the trader has succeeded in making a poor rich, quite tipsy, he fleeces him, and buys all he wants at some ridiculous price, the result of the transaction generally being that the Samoyed 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 merchant's 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 the 29th, Trondheim saw from the shore first smoke, and soon after a steamer, there could be no doubt of its being the Fram. He went out in a little Samoyed 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 Trondheim, and this most of all, in his opinion, justified the hope that in difficult crisis the expedition would be able to hold its own. AI Trondheim 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 classics of European literature. Various musical instruments, from a beautiful grand piano to flutes and guitars, then chess, drafts, 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 twenty or thirty 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 Harbour 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 3rd they shifted Kohl on board the Fram, from the ship's hold down to the stoke-hold, Kohlbunkers. All the members of the expedition took part in this work. Nansen at their head, and they worked unitedly and cheerfully. The same day Nansen and his companions tried the dogs on shore, 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 Trondheim 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, Trondheim 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 Trondheim 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. Trondheim. Along with this Nansen also gave Trondheim 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 and set sail on his long voyage without waiting for the coal-sloop uranium which he thought must have been delayed by the ice. In the evening Trondheim took leave of the whole party with hearty wishes for the success of the expedition. Along with him, Herr Ole Christofferson, correspondent of one of the Chief London newspapers, left the ship. He had accompanied Nansen from Vardo. At parting Nansen gave them a plentiful supply of provisions, Christofferson and Trondheim having to await the arrival of the uranium as they were to go home by her. Precisely at twelve o'clock on the night between August 4th and 5th the signal for starting was given and the from stood out to sea. On August 7th the uranium at last arrived. As I had supposed she had been stopped by ice but had at last got out of it uninjured. Christofferson and Trondheim were able to sail for home in her on the 11th and reached Vardo on the 22nd, food having been very scarce during the last part of the time. The ship which had left her home port, Bruno in May, was not provided for so long a voyage and these last days they lived chiefly on dry biscuits, water, and weevils. End of file six. File seven of Farthest North, volume one. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Sharon Riscadal. Farthest North by Friedtoff Nansen, volume one. Chapter five, Voyage through the Karasei, part one. It was well into the night after Christofferson and Trondheim 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 Vygots to the northwest as pollander directs, then on through the strait, keeping to the Vygots side. The fog was often so thick that it was with difficulty we could catch a glimpse of the from which followed close behind us and on board the from 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 four and a half to five fathoms, then a drop to four and then to three and a half. This was too little. We turned and signaled to the from to stop. Then we held farther out from land and got into deeper water so that the from 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 pale that was standing full of oil also took fire. As soon as I had stopped the burning of my clothes I rushed after 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 from however and they were standing by with ropes and buoys to throw to us. Soon we were out of Hugo Strait. There was now so little fog that the lowland round us was visible and we could also see a little way out to sea and in the distance all drift ice. At four o'clock in the morning, August 4th, we glided past Solakai 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 Chaluskan the worst would be over. Our prospects were not bad and open passage to the east along the land as far as we could see from the mast head. 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. 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 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. In the evening some of us went on shore. The water was so shallow that our boat stuck fast a good way from the beach and we had to wade. It was a perfectly flat smooth sand beach covered by the sea at full tide and beyond that a steep sand bank thirty to forty feet in some places probably sixty feet high. We wandered about a little. Flat bear country on every hand. Any driftwood we saw was buried in the sand and soaking wet. Not a bird to be seen except one or two snipe. We came to a lake and out of the fog in front of me I heard the cry of a loon but saw no living creature. Our view was blocked by a wall of fog whichever way we turned. There were plenty of reindeer tracks but of course they were only those of the Samayeds tame reindeer. This is the land of the Samayeds and oh but it is desolate and mournful. The only one of us that bagged anything was the botanist. Beautiful flowers smiled to us here and there among the sand mounds the one message from a brighter world in this land of fogs. We went far in over the flats but came only to sheets of water with low spits running out into them and ridges between. We often heard the cry of loons on the water but could never catch sight of one. All these lakelets were of a remarkable exactly circular conformation with steep banks all round just as if each had dug out a hole for itself in the sandy plain. With the oars of our boat and a large tarpaulin we had made a sort of tent. We were lucky enough to find a little dry wood and soon the tent was filled with the fragrant odor of hot coffee. When we had eaten and drunk and our pipes were lit Johansen in spite of fatigue and a full meal surprised us by turning one somersault after another on the heavy damp sand in front of the tent in his long military cloak and sea boots half full of water. By six thirty next morning we were on board again. The fog had cleared but the ice which lay drifting backwards and forwards according to the set of the tide looked as close as ever towards the north. During the morning we had a visit from a boat with two stalwart samoyeds who were well received and treated to food and tobacco. They gave us to understand that they were living in a tent some distance inland and farther north. Presently they went off again enriched with gifts. These were the last human beings we met. Next day the ice was still close and as there was nothing else to be done some of us went ashore again in the afternoon partly to see more of this little known coast and partly if possible to find the samoyeds camp and get hold of some skins and reindeer flesh. It is a strange flat country nothing but sand, sand everywhere. Still flatter, still more desolate than the country about you go straight with a still wider horizon. Over the plain lay a green carpet of grass and moss here and there spoiled by the wind having torn it up and swept sand over it. But trenches we might and searches we might we found no samoyed camp. We saw three men in the far distance but they went off as fast as they could the moment they caught sight of us. There was little game just a few ptarmigan, golden plovers and long-tailed ducks. Our chief gain was another collection of plants and a few geological and geographical notes. Our observations show that the land at this place was charted not less than half a degree or 36 to 38 minutes too far west. It was not till next afternoon, August 9th, that we went on board again. The ice to the north now seemed to be rather looser and at 8 p.m. we at last began once more to make our way north. We found ice that was easy to get through and held on our course until three days later we got into open water. On Sunday, August 18th, we stood out into the open Kharasi past the north point of Yalmal and Beloy Ostrov White Island. There was no ice to be seen in any direction. During the days that followed we had constant strong east winds often increasing to half a gale. We kept on tacking to make our way eastward but the broad and keel-less from can hardly be called a good beater. We made too much leeway and our progress was correspondingly slow. In the journal there is a constantly recurring entry of headwind. The monotony was extreme but as they may be of interest as relating to the navigation of the sea I shall give the most important items of the journal especially those regarding the state of the ice. On Monday, August 14th, we beat with only sail against a strong wind. Single pieces of ice were seen during the middle watch but after that there was none within sight. Tuesday, August 15th, the wind slackened in the middle watch. We took in sail and got up steam. At five in the morning we steamed away east over a sea perfectly clear of ice but after midday the wind began to freshen again from east northeast and we had to beat with steam and sail. Single flows of ice were seen during the evening and night. Wednesday, August 16th. As the Kara Sea seemed so extraordinarily free from ice and as a heavy sea was running from the northeast we decided to hold north as far as we could even if it should be to the insom kite lonely island. But about half past three in the afternoon we had a strip of close ice ahead so that we had to turn stiff breeze and sea kept on beating east along the edge of the ice almost lost the petroleum launch in the evening. The waves were constantly breaking into it and filling it the gunnel was burst in at two places and the heavy davits it hung on were twisted as if they had been copper wires. Only just in the nick of time with the waves washing over us some of us managed to get it lashed to the side of the ship. There seemed to be some fatality about this boat. Thursday, August 17th. Still beating eastward under sail and steam through scattered ice and along a margin of fixed ice still blowing hard with a heavy sea as soon as we headed a little out from the ice. Friday, August 18th continued storm. Stood southeast. At 4.30 a.m. Sphere drip who had gone up into the crow's nest to look out for bears and walnuts on the ice flows saw land to the south of us. At 10 a.m. I went up to look at it. We were then probably not more than 10 miles away from it. It was low land seemingly of the same formation as Yalmal with steep sandbanks and grass grown above. The sea grew shallower as we neared it not far from us small icebergs lay aground. The lead showed steadily less and less water. By 11.30 a.m. there were only some eight fathoms. Then to our surprise the bottom suddenly fell to 20 fathoms and after that we found steadily increasing depth. Between the land and the blocks of stranded ice on our lee there appeared to be a channel with rather deeper water and not so much ice aground in it. It seemed difficult to conceive that there should be undiscovered land here where both Nordenshold and Edward Johansson and possibly several Russians had passed without seeing anything. Our observations however were incontestable and we immediately named the land Sphere Drops Island after its discoverer. As there was still a great deal of ice to windward we continued our southwesterly course keeping as close to the wind as possible. The weather was clear and at eight o'clock we sided the mainland with Dixon's island ahead. It had been our intention to run in and anchor here in order to put letters for home under a cairn Captain Wiggins having promised to pick them up on his way to Yenisei. But in the meantime the wind had fallen. It was a favourable chance and time was precious. So gave up sending our post and continued our course along the coast. The country here was quite different from Yalmal. Though not very high it was a hilly country with patches and even large drifts of snow here and there some of them lying close down by the shore. Next morning I sided the southernmost of the Khamenei islands. We took a tack in under it to see if there were animals of any kind but could catch sight of done. The island rose evenly from the sea at all points with steep shores. They consisted for the most part of rock which was partly solid partly broken up by the action of the weather into heaps of stones. It appeared to be a stratified rock with strongly marked oblique strata. The island was also covered with quantities of gravel sometimes mixed with larger stones. The whole of the northern point seemed to be a sand heap with steep sand banks toward the shore. The most noticeable feature of the island was its marked shorelines. Near the top there was a specially pronounced one which was like a sharp ledge on the west and north sides and stretched across the island like a dark band. Near the beach were several other distinct ones. In form they all resembled the upper one with its steep ledges and had evidently been formed in the same way by the action of the sea and more especially of the ice. Like the upper one they also were most marked on the west and north sides of the island which are those facing most to the open sea. To the student of the history of the earth these marks of the former level of the sea are of great interest showing as they do that the land has risen or the sea sunk since the time they were formed. Like Scandinavia the whole of the north coast of Siberia has undergone these changes of level since the great ice age. It was strange that we saw none of the islands which according to Nordenshold's map stretch in a line to the northeast from the Khamenei island. On the other hand I took the bearings of one or two other islands lying almost due east and next morning we passed a small island farther north. We saw a few birds in this neighborhood only a few flocks of geese, some Arctic gulls, Lester's parasitica and El Bufoni and a few sea gulls and turn. On Sunday August 20th we had for us uncommonly fine weather blue sea brilliant sunshine and light wind still from the northeast. In the afternoon we ran into the Chelmen islands these we could recognize from their position on Nordenshold's map but south of them we found many unknown ones. They all had smoothly rounded forms these Chelmen islands like rocks that have been ground smooth by the glaciers of the ice age. The from anchored on the north side of the largest of them and whilst the boiler was being refitted some of us went ashore in the evening for some shooting. We had not left the ship when the mate from the crow's nest caught sight of reindeer. At once we were all agog everyone wanted to go ashore and the mate was quite beside himself with the hunter's fever his eyes as big as saucers and his hands trembling as though he were drunk. Not until we were in the boat had we time to look seriously for the mate's reindeer. We looked in vain not a living thing was to be seen in any direction. Yes when we were close in shore we at last described a large flock of geese waddling upward from the beach. We were base enough to let a conjecture escape us that these were the mate's reindeer a suspicion which he at first rejected with contempt gradually however his confidence oozed away but it is possible to do an injustice even to a mate. The first thing I saw when I sprang ashore was old reindeer tracks. The mate had now the laugh on his side ran from track to track and swore that it was reindeer he had seen. When we got up on to the first height we saw several reindeer on flat ground to the south of us but the wind being from the north we had to go back and make our way south along the shore till we got too leeward of them. The only one who did not approve of this plan was the mate who was in a state of feverish eagerness to rush straight at some reindeer he thought he had seen to the east which of course was an absolutely certain way to clear the field of every one of them. He asked and received permission to remain behind with Hanson who was to take a magnetic observation but had to promise not to move till he got the order. On the way along the shore we passed one great flock of geese after another. They stretched their necks and waddled aside a little until we were quite near and only then took flight but we had no time to waste on such small game. A little further on we caught sight of one or two reindeer we had not noticed before. We could easily have stalked them but were afraid of getting too windward of the others which were farther south. At last we got to leeward of these latter also but they were grazing on flat ground and it was anything but easy to stalk them not a hillock not a stone to hide behind. The only thing was to form a long line advance as best we could and if possible outflank them. In the meantime we had caught sight of another herd of reindeer farther to the north but suddenly to our astonishment saw them tear off across the plain eastward in all probability startled by the mate who had not been able to keep quiet any longer. A little to the north of the reindeer nearest us there was a hollow opening from the shore from which it seemed that it might be possible to get a shot at them. I went back to try this whilst the others kept their places in the line. As I went down again towards the shore I had the sea before me, quiet and beautiful. The sun had gone down behind it not long before and the sky was glowing in the clear light night. I had to stand still for a minute. In the midst of all this beauty man was doing the work of a beast of prey. At this moment I saw to the north a dark speck move down the height where the mate and Hanson ought to be. It divided into two and the one moved east just to the windward of the animals I was to stalk. They would get the scent immediately and be off. There was nothing for it but to hurry on while I reigned anything but good wishes on these fellow's heads. The gully was not so deep as I had expected. Its sides were just high enough to hide me when I crept on all fours. In the middle were large stones and clay-y gravel, with the little runnels soaking through them. The reindeer were still grazing quietly, only now and then raising their heads to look around. My cover got lower and lower and to the north I heard the mate. He would presently succeed in setting off my game. It was imperative to get on quickly, but there was no longer cover enough for me to advance on Hanson's knees. My only chance was to wriggle forward like a snake on my stomach. But in this soft clay, in the bed of the stream, yes, meat is too precious on board, and the beast of prey is too strong in a man. My clothes must be sacrificed, on I crept on my stomach through the mud. But soon there was hardly cover enough even for this. I squeezed myself flat among the stones and plowed forward like a drain-cutting machine, and I did make way, if not quickly and comfortably, still surely. All this time the sky was turning darker and darker red behind me, and it was getting more and more difficult to use the sights of my gun, not to mention the trouble I had in keeping the clay from them and from the muzzle. The reindeer still grazed quietly on. When they raised their heads to look around, I had to lie as quiet as a mouse, feeling the water trickling gently under my stomach. When they began to nibble the moss again, off I went through the mud. Presently I made the disagreeable discovery that they were moving away from me about as fast as I could move forward, and I had to redouble my exertions. But the darkness was getting worse and worse, and I had the mate to the north of me, and presently he would start them off. The outlook was anything but bright, either morally or physically. The hollow was getting shallower and shallower, so that I was hardly covered at all. I squeezed myself still deeper into the mud. A turn in the ground helped me forward to the next little height, and now they were right in front of me within what I could have called easy range, if it had been daylight. I tried to take aim, but could not see the bead on my gun. Man's fate is sometimes hard to bear. My clothes were dripping with wet clay, and after what seemed to me most meritorious exertions, here I was at the goal unable to take advantage of my position. But now the reindeer moved down into a small depression. I crept forward a little way further as quickly as I could. I was in a splendid position, so far as I could tell in the dark, but I could not see the bead any better than before. It was impossible to get nearer, for there was only a smooth slope between us. There was no sense in thinking of waiting for light to shoot by. It was now midnight, and I had that terrible mate to the north of me, besides the wind was not to be trusted. I held the rifle up against the sky to see the bead clearly, and then lowered it on the reindeer. I did this once, twice, thrice. The bead was still far from clear, but all the same I thought I might hit, and pulled the trigger. The two deer gave a sudden start, looked round in astonishment, and bolted off a little way south. There they stood, still again, and at this moment were joined by a third deer which had been standing rather farther north. I fired off all the cartridges in the magazine, and all to the same good purpose. The creature started and moved off a little at each shot, and then trotted farther south. Presently they made another halt to take a long careful look at me, and I dashed off westward as hard as I could run to turn them. Now they were off straight in the direction where some of my comrades ought to be. I expected every moment to hear shots and see one or two of the animals fall, but away they ambled southwards, quite unchecked. At last, far to the south, crack went a rifle. I could see by the smoke that it was at too long a range, so in high dudgeon I shouldered my rifle and lounged in the direction of the shot. It was pleasant to see such a good result for all one's trouble. No one was to be seen anywhere. At length I met Sverdrip. It was he who had fired. Soon Blessing joined us, but all the others had long since left their posts. Whilst Blessing went back to the boat in his botanizing box, Sverdrip and I went on to try our luck once more. A little farther south, we came to a valley stretching right across the island. On the further side of it we saw a man standing on a hillock, and not far from him a herd of five or six reindeer. As it never occurred to us to doubt that the man was in the act of stalking these, we avoided going in that direction, and soon he and his reindeer disappeared to the west. I heard afterwards that he had never seen the deer. As it was evident that when the reindeer to the south of us were startled they would have to come back across this valley, and as the island at this part was so narrow that we commanded the whole of it, we determined to take up our posts here and wait. We accordingly got in the lee of some great boulders out of the wind. In front of Sverdrip was a large flock of geese near the mouth of the stream, close down by the shore. They kept up an incessant gable, and the temptation to have a shot at them was very great. But considering the reindeer, we thought it best to leave them in peace. They gabbled and waddled away down through the mud, and soon took wing. The time seemed long. At first we listened with all our ears, the reindeer must come very soon, and our eyes wandered incessantly back and forwards along the slope on the other side of the valley. But no reindeer came, and soon we were having a struggle to keep our eyes open and our heads up. We had not had much sleep the last few days. They must be coming. We shook ourselves awake and gave another look along the bank, till again the eyes softly closed and the heads began to nod, while the chill wind blew through our wet clothes and I shivered with cold. This sort of thing went on for an hour or two, until the sport began to pawl on me, and I scrambled from my shelter along towards Sverdrip, who was enjoying it about as much as I was. We climbed the slope on the other side of the valley, and were hardly at the top before we saw the horns of six splendid reindeer on a height in front of us. They were restless, senting westward, trotting round in a circle and then sniffing again. They could not have noticed us as yet as the wind was blowing at right angles to the line between them and us. We stood a long time watching their maneuvers and waiting their choice of a direction, but they had apparently great difficulty in making it. At last off they swung south and east, and off we went south east as hard as we could go to get across their course before they got sent of us. Sverdrip had got well ahead, and I saw him rushing across a flat piece of ground, presently he would be at the right place to meet them. I stopped to be in readiness to cut them off on the other side if they should face about and make off northward again. There were six splendid animals, a big buck in front. They were heading straight for Sverdrip, who was now crouching down on the slope. I expected every moment to see the foremost fall. A shot rang out. Round wheeled the whole flock like lightning, and back they came at a gallop. It was my turn now to run with all my might, and off I went over the stones down towards the valley we had come from. I only stopped once or twice to take breath and to make sure that the animals were coming in the direction I had reckoned on, then off again. We were getting near each other now. They were coming on just where I had calculated the thing now was to be in time for them. I made my long legs go their fastest over the boulders, and took leaps from stone to stone that would have surprised myself at a more sober moment. More than once my foot slipped, and I went down headfirst among the boulders, gun and all, but the wild beast in me had the upper hand now, the passion of the chase vibrated through every fiber of my body. We reached the slant of the valley almost at the same time, a leap or two to get up on some big boulders, and the moment had come I must shoot though the shot was a long one. When the smoke cleared away I saw the big buck trailing a broken hind leg. When their leader stopped, the whole flock termed and ran in a ring round the poor animal, they could not understand what was happening and strayed about wildly with the balls whistling round them. Then off they went down the side of the valley again, leaving another of their number behind with a broken leg. I tore after them across the valley and up the other side in the hope of getting another shot, but gave that up and turned back to make sure of the two wounded ones. At the bottom of the valley stood one of the victims awaiting its fate. It looked imploringly at me, and then just as I was going forward to shoot it made off much quicker than I could have thought possible for an animal on three legs to go. Sure of my shot of course I missed, and now began a chase which ended in the poor beast blocked in every other direction rushing down towards the sea and waiting into a small lagoon on the shore whence I feared it might get right out into the sea. At last it got its quietest there in the water. The other one was not far off, and a ball soon put an end to its sufferings also. As I was proceeding to rip it up, Henrickson and Johansson appeared. They had just shot a bear a little further south. After disemboweling the reindeer we went towards the boat again, meeting Sphere-Drip on the way. It was now well on in the morning, and I considered that we had already spent too much time here. I was impatient to push northwards. While Sphere-Drip and some of the others went on board to get ready for the start, the rest of us rode south to fetch our two reindeer and our bear. A strong breeze had begun to blow from the northeast, and as it would be hard work for us to row back against it I had asked Sphere-Drip to come and meet us with the Fromm if the soundings permitted of his doing so. We saw quantities of seal and whitefish along the shore, but we had not time to go after them. All we wanted now was to get south and in the first place to pick up the bear. When we came near the place where we expected to find it, we did see a large white heap resembling a bear lying on the ground, and I was sure it must be the dead one, but Henrickson maintained that it was not. We went to shore and approached it, as it lay motionless on a grassy bank. I still felt a strong suspicion that it had already had all the shot it wanted. We drew nearer and nearer, but it gave no sign of life. I looked into Henrickson's honest face to make sure that they were not playing a trick on me, but he was staring fixedly at the bear. As I looked, two shots went off, and to my astonishment the great creature bounded into the air still dazed with sleep. Poor beast! It was a harsh awakening, another shot, and it fell lifeless. We first tried to drag the bears down to the boat, but they were too heavy for us, and we now had a hard piece of work skinning and cutting them up and carrying down all we wanted. But bad as it was, trudging through the soft clay with heavy quarters of bear on her backs, there was worse awaiting us on the beach. The tide had risen, and at the same time the waves had got larger and swamped the boat, and were now breaking over it. Guns and ammunition were soaking in the water, bits of bread our only provision floated round, and the butter dish lay at the bottom with no butter in it. It required no small exertion to get the boat drawn up out of this heavy surf and emptied of water. Luckily it had received no injury as the beach was of soft sand, but the sand had penetrated with the water everywhere, even into the most delicate parts of the locks of our rifles. But worst of all was the loss of our provisions, for now we were ravenously hungry. We had to make the best of a bad business, and eat pieces of bread soaked in sea water and flavored with several varieties of dirt. On this occasion too I lost my sketchbook, with some sketches that were of value to me. It was no easy task to get our heavy game into the boat with these big waves breaking on the flat beach. We had to keep the boat outside the surf, and haul both skins and flesh on board with a line. A good deal of water came with them, but there was no help for it. And then we had to row north along the shore against the wind and sea as hard as we could. It was very tough work. The wind had increased, and it was all we could do to make headway against it. Seals were diving round us, white whales coming and going, but we had no eyes for them now. Suddenly Henrickson called out that there was a bear on the point in front. I turned round, and there stood a beautiful white fellow rummaging among the flotsam on the beach. As we had no time to shoot it, we rode on, and it went slowly in front of us northwards along the shore. At last with great exertions we reached the bay where we were to put in for the reindeer. The bear was there before us. It had not seen the boat hither too, but now it got sent of us and came nearer. It was a tempting shot. I had my finger on the trigger several times, but did not draw it. After all we had no use for the animal. It was quite as much as we could do to stow away what we had already. It made a beautiful target of itself by getting up on a stone to have a better scent and looked about, and after a careful survey it turned round and set off inland at an easy trot. The surf was by this time still heavier. It was a flat shallow shore, and the waves broke a good way out from land. We rode in till the boat touched ground and the breakers began to wash over us. The only way of getting ashore was to jump into the sea and wade. But getting the reindeer on board was another matter. There was no better landing place farther north and hard as it was to give up the excellent meat after all our trouble. It seemed to me there was nothing else for it, and we rode off towards our ship. It was the hardest row I ever had a hand in. It went pretty well to begin with. We had the current with us, and got quickly out from land. But presently the wind rose, the current slackened, and wave after wave broke over us. After incredible toil we had at last only a short way to go. I cheered up the good fellows as best I could, reminding them of the smoking hot tea that awaited them after a few more tough pulls, and picturing all the good things in store for them. We really were all pretty well done up now, but we still took a good grip of the oars, soaking wet as we were from the sea constantly breaking over us, for of course none of us had thought of such things as oil skins in yesterday's beautiful weather. But we soon saw that with all our pulling and toiling the boat was making no headway whatever. Apart from the wind and the sea we had the current dead against us here. All our exertions were of no avail. We pulled till our fingertips felt as if they were bursting. But the most we could manage was to keep the boat where it was, if we slackened an instant it drifted back. I tried to encourage my comrades. Now we made a little way. It was just strength that was needed. But all to no purpose. The wind whistled round our ears and the spray dashed over us. It was maddening to be so near the ship that it seemed as if we could almost reach out to her and yet feel that it was impossible to get on any farther. We had to go in under the land again where we had the current with us, and here we did succeed in making a little progress. We rode hard till we were about abreast of the ship. Then we once more tried to shear across to her. But no sooner did we get into the current again than it mercilessly drove us back, beaten again. And again we tried the same maneuver with the same result. Now we saw them lowering a buoy from the ship. If we could only reach it, we were saved, but we did not reach it. They were not exactly blessings that we poured on those on board. Why on earth could they not bear down to us when they saw the straits we were in, or why at any rate could they not ease up the anchor and let the ship drift a little in our direction? They saw how little was needed to enable us to reach them. Perhaps they had their reasons. We would make one last desperate attempt. We went at it with a will. Every muscle was strained to the utmost. It was only the buoy we had to reach this time. But to our rage, we now saw the buoy being hauled up. We rode a little way on to the windward of the from, and then tried again to shear over. This time we got nearer her than we had ever been before, but we were disappointed in still seeing no buoy and none was thrown over. There was not even a man to be seen on deck. We roared like madmen for a buoy. We had no strength left for another attempt. It was not a pleasing prospect to have to drift back and go ashore 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. One more cry to my mates that we must put our last strength into the work. There were only a few boat lengths to cover, and we bent to our oars with a will. Now there were three boat lengths, another desperate spurt. Now there were two and a half boat lengths, presently two, then only one. A few more frantic pulls, and there was a little less. Now boys, one or two more hard pulls, and it's over. Hard, hard. Keep to it. Now another. Don't give up. One more. There we have it. And one joyful sigh of relief passed round the boat. Keep the oars going, or the rope will break. Row, boys, and row we did, and soon they had hauled us alongside of the from. Not till we were lying there, getting our bare skins and flesh hauled on board, did we really know what we had had to fight against. The current was running along the side of the ship like a rapid river. At last we were actually on board. It was evening by this time, and it was splendid to get some good hot food, and then stretch one's limbs in a comfortable dry berth. There is a satisfaction in feeling that one has exerted oneself to some purpose. Here was the net result of four and twenty hours hard toil. We had shot two reindeer, which we did not get. Got two bears that we had no use for, and had totally ruined one suit of clothes. Two washings had not the smallest effect on them, and they hung on deck to air for the rest of this trip. I slept badly that night, for this is what I find in my diary. Got on board after what I think was the hardest row I ever had. Slept well for a little, but am now lying, tossing about in my berth, unable to sleep. Is it the coffee I drank after supper, or the cold tea I drank when I awoke with a burning thirst? I shut my eyes and try again time after time, but to no purpose. And now memories airy vision still softly over my soul. Gleam after gleam breaks through the mist. I see before me sunlit landscapes, smiling fields and meadows, green leafy trees and woods, and blue mountain ridges. The singing of the steam in the boiler pipe turns to bell-ringing, church bells, ringing in Sabbath peace over Vestra Ochre on this beautiful summer morning. I am walking with Father along the avenue of small birch trees that mother planted, up towards the church, which lies on the height before us, pointing up into the blue sky and sending its call far over the countryside. From up there you can see a long way. NASA done looks quite close in the clear air, especially on an autumn morning. And we give a quiet Sunday greeting to the people that drive past us, all going our way. What a look of Sunday happiness dwells on their faces. I did not think it also delightful then, and would much rather have run off to the woods with my bow and arrow after squirrels. But now, how fair, how wonderfully beautiful that sunlit picture seems to me. The feeling of peace and happiness that even then no doubt made its impression, though only a passing one, comes back now with redoubled strength, and all nature seems one mighty, thrilling song of praise. Is it because of the contrast with this poor, barren, sunless land of mists, without a tree, without a bush, nothing but stones and clay? No peace in it, either. Nothing but an endless struggle to get north, always north, without a moment's delay. Oh, how one yearns for a little careless happiness. Next day we were ready again to sail, and I tried to force the Fromm on under steam against wind and current. But the current ran strong as a river, and we had to be specially careful with the helm. If we gave her the least thing too much, she would take a shear, and we knew there were shallows and rocks on all sides. We kept the lead going constantly. For a time all went well, and we made way slowly. But suddenly she took a shear and refused to obey her helm. She went off to starboard, the lead indicated shallow water. The same moment came the order, let go the anchor, and to the bottom it went with a rush and a clank. There we lay with four fathoms of water under the stern, and nine fathoms in front at the anchor. We were not a moment too soon. We got the Fromm's head straight to the wind and tried again time after time, but always with the same result. The attempt had to be given up. There was still the possibility of making our way out of the sound to leeward of the land, but the water got quickly shallow there, and we might come on rocks at any moment. We could have gone on in front with the boat and sounded, but I had already had more than enough of rowing in that current. For the present we must stay where we were, and anoint ourselves with the ointment called patience, a medicament of which every polar expedition ought to lay in a large supply. We hoped on for a change, but the current remained as it was, and the wind certainly did not decrease. I was in despair at having to lie here for nothing but this cursed current with open sea outside perhaps as far as Cape Chelyuskin, that eternal cape whose name had been sounding in my ears for the last three weeks. When I came on deck next morning, August 23, winter had come. There was white snow on the deck and on every little projection of the rigging where it had found shelter from the wind, white snow on the land and white snow floating through the air. Oh, how the snow refreshes one's soul and drives away all the gloom and sadness from this sullen land of fogs! Look at it scattered so delicately as if by a loving hand over the stones and the grass flats on shore. But wind and current are much as they were, and during the day the wind blows up to a regular storm howling and rattling in the froms rigging. The following day, August 24, I had quite made up my mind that we must get out some way or other. When I came on deck in the morning, the wind had gone down considerably, and the current was not so strong. A boat would almost be able to row against it. Anyhow, one could be eased away by a line from the stern and keep on taking soundings there while we catched the from with her anchor just clear of the bottom. But before having recourse to this last expedient, I would make another attempt to go against the wind and the current. The engineers were ordered to put on as much pressure of steam as they dared, and the from was urged on at her top speed. Our surprise was not small when we saw that we were making way and even at a tolerable rate. Soon we were out of the sound or nipper as we christened it, and could beat out to sea with steam and sail. Of course we had, as usual, contrary wind and thick weather. There is ample space between every little bit of sunshine in these quarters. Next day we kept on beating northward between the edge of the ice and the land. The open channel was broad to begin with, but farther north it became so narrow that we could often see the coast when we put about at the edge of the ice. At this time we passed many unknown islands and groups of islands. There was evidently plenty of occupation here for anyone who could spare the time in making a chart of the coast. Our voyage had another aim, and all that we could do was to make a few occasional measurements of the same nature as Nordenshold had made before us. On August 25th I noted in my diary that in the afternoon we had seven islands in sight. They were higher than those we had seen before and consisted of precipitous hills. There were also small glaciers or snow fields, and the rock formations showed clear traces of erosion by ice or snow, this being especially the case on the largest island, where there were even small valleys partially filled with snow. This is the record of August 26th. Many new islands in various directions. There are here the diary continues, any number of unknown islands, so many that one's head gets confused in trying to keep account of them all. In the morning we passed a very rocky one, and beyond it I saw two others, after them land or islands farther to the north and still more to the northeast. We had to go out of our course in the afternoon because we dared not pass between two large islands on account of possible shoals. The islands were round in form like those we had seen farther back but were of a good height. Now we held east again, with four bigish islands and two islets in the offing. On our other side we presently had a line of flat islands with steep shores. The channel was far from safe here. In the evening we suddenly noticed large stones standing up above the water among some ice flows close on our port bow, and on our starboard beam was a shoal with stranded ice flows. We sounded but found over twenty-one fathoms of water. I think this will suffice to give an idea of the nature of this coast. Its belt of scaries, though it certainly cannot be classed with the Norwegian one, is yet of the kind that it would be difficult to find except off-glacier formed coasts. This tends to strengthen the opinion I had formed of there having been a glacial period in the earlier history of this part of the world also. Of the coast itself we unfortunately saw too little at any distance from which we could get an accurate idea of its formation and nature. We could not keep near land partly because of the thick weather and partly because of the number of islands. The little I did see was enough to give me the conviction that the actual coastline differs essentially from the one we know from maps. It is much more winding and indented than it is shown to be. I even, several times, thought that I saw the openings into deep fjords and more than once the suspicion occurred to me that this was a typical fjord country we were sailing past in spite of the hills being comparatively low and rounded. In this supposition I was to be confirmed by our experiences farther north. Our record of August 27 threeds as follows. Steamed among a variety of small islands and islets, thick fog in the morning. At twelve noon we saw a small island right ahead and therefore changed our course and went north. We were soon close to the ice and after three in the afternoon held northeast along its edge. Sited land when the fog cleared a little and were about a mile off it at seven p.m. It was the same striated rounded land covered with clay and large and small stones strewn over moss and grass flats. Before us we saw points and headlands with islands outside and sounds and fjords between. But it was all locked up in ice and we could not see far for the fog. There was that strange arctic hush and misty light over everything, that grayish white light caused by the reflection from the ice being cast high into the air against masses of vapor the dark land offering a wonderful contrast. We were not sure whether this was the land near time or sound or that by K. Pollander, but were agreed that in any case it would be best to hold a northedly course so as to keep clear of Almquist's islands which Nordensholt marks on his map as lying off Timor Island. If we shaped our course for one watch north or north to west we should be safe after that and be able again to hold farther east. But we miscalculated after all. At midnight we turned northeastward and at 4 a.m., August 28th, land appeared out of the fog about half a mile off. It seemed to Sferdrup, who was on deck, the highest that we had seen since we left Norway. He consequently took it to be the mainland and wished to keep well outside of it but was obliged to turn from this course because of ice. We held to the west-southwest and it was not till 9 a.m. that we rounded the western point of a large island and could steer north again. East of us were many islands or points with solid ice between them and we followed the edge of the ice. All the morning we went north along the land against a strong current. There seemed to be no end to this land. Its discrepancy with every known map grew more and more remarkable and I was in no slight dilemma. We had for long been far to the north of the most northern island indicated by Nordenshold. My diary this day tells of great uncertainty. This land, or these islands or whatever it is, goes confoundedly far north. If it is a group of islands they are tolerably large ones. It has often the appearance of connected land with fjords and points but the weather is too thick for us to get a proper view. Can this that we are now coasting along be the Timor island of the Russian maps or more precisely Loptif's map and is it separated from the mainland by the broad strait indicated by him while Nordenshold's Timor island is what Loptif has mapped as a projecting tongue of land. This supposition would explain everything and our observations would also fit in with it. Is it possible that Nordenshold found this strait and took it for Timor strait whilst in reality it was a new one, and that he saw Almquist's islands but had no suspicion that Timor island lay to the outside of them? The difficulty about this explanation is that the Russian maps mark no islands around Timor island. It is inconceivable that anyone should have traveled all about here in sledges without seeing all these small islands that lie scattered around. In the afternoon the water gauge of the poiler got choked up. We had to stop to have it repaired and therefore made fast to the edge of the ice. We spent the time in taking and drinking water. We found a pool on the ice so small that we thought it would only do to begin with but it evidently had a subterranean communication with other freshwater ponds on the flow. To our astonishment it proved inexhaustible however much we scooped. In the evening we stood into the head of an ice bay which opened out opposite the most northern island we then had in sight. There was no passage beyond. The broken drift ice lay packed so close in on the unbroken land ice that it was impossible to tell where the one ended and the other began. We could see islands still farther to the northeast. From the atmosphere it seemed as if there might also be open water in that direction. To the north it all looked very close but to the west there was an open waterway as far as one could see from the masthead. I was in some doubt as to what should be done. There was an open channel for a short way up past the north point of the nearest island but farther to the east the ice seemed to be close. It might be possible to force our way through there but it was just as likely that we should be frozen in so I thought it more judicious to go back and make another attempt between these islands and that mainland which I had some difficulty in believing that Sverderp had seen in the morning. End of file 7