 1. We prepare for the Sledge Expedition. Chapter 2 The New Year, 1895. Chapter 3 We Make a Start. Chapter 4 We Say Goodbye to the From. Chapter 5 A Hard Struggle. Chapter 6 By Sledge and Kayak. Chapter 7 Land at Last. Chapter 8 The New Year, 1896. Chapter 9 The Journey Southward. Appendix, Report of Captain Autosphere-Drip on the Drifting of the From from March 14, 1895. 1. March 15 to June 22, 1895. 2. June 22 to August 15, 1895. 3. August 15 to January 1, 1896. 4. January 1 to May 17, 1896. 5. The Third Summer. Conclusion. End of File 1. File 2 of Farthest North, Volume 2. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Sharon Riscadal. Farthest North by Freetjof Nansen, Volume 2. Chapter 1 We Prepare for the Sledge Expedition. Who are to be the two members of the expedition? Sverdrup and I have tested each other before at this sort of work, and we could manage very well, but we cannot both leave the From. That is perfectly clear without further argument. One of us must remain behind to take on himself the responsibility of bringing the others home in safety. But it is equally clear that one of us two must conduct the Sledge Expedition as it is we who have the necessary experience. Sverdrup has a great desire to go, but I cannot think otherwise than that there is more risk in leaving the From than in remaining on board her. Consequently, if I were to let him go, I should be transferring to him the more dangerous task while keeping the easier one to myself. If he perished, should I ever be able to forgive myself for letting him go even if it was at his own desire? He is nine years older than I am. I should certainly feel it to be a very uncomfortable responsibility. And as regards our comrades, which of us would it be most to their interest to keep on board? I think they have confidence in both of us, and I think either of us would be able to take them home in safety, whether with or without the From. But the ship is his a special charge, while on me rests the conduct of the whole, and especially of the scientific investigations, so that I ought to undertake the task in which important discoveries are to be made. Those who remain with the ship will be able, as aforesaid, to carry on the observations which are to be made on board. It is my duty, therefore, to go and his to remain behind. He too thinks this is reasonable. I have chosen Johansson to be my companion, and he is in all respects well qualified for that work. He is an accomplished snowshoer, and few can equal his powers of endurance, a fine fellow physically and mentally. I have not yet asked him but think of doing so soon in order that he may be prepared be times. Being in Hanson also would certainly be all eagerness to accompany me, but Hanson must remain behind to take charge of the observations, and blessing cannot desert his post as doctor. Several of the others, too, would do quite well, and would, I doubt not, be willing enough. This expedition to the North, then, is provisionally decided on. I shall see what the winter will bring us, like permitting, I should prefer to start in February. Sunday November 18th it seems as if I could not properly realize the idea that I am really to set out, and that in three months' time. Sometimes I delude myself with charming dreams of my return home after toil and victory, and then all is clear and bright. Then these are succeeded by thoughts of the uncertainty and deceptiveness of the future, and what may be lurking in it, and my dreams fade away like the northern lights, pale and colorless. Je natt ois vider, schwan kende gestalten. Ugg, these everlasting cold fits of doubt, before every decisive resolution the dice of death must be thrown. Is there too much to venture, and too little to gain? There is more to be gained at all events than there is here. Then is it not my duty? Besides, there is only one to whom I am responsible, and she? I shall come back, I know it. I have strength enough for the task. Be thou faithful unto death, and thou shalt inherit the crown of life. We are oddly constructed machines, at one moment all resolution, at the next all doubt. Today our intellect, our science, all our laban untreben, seem but a pitiful Philistinism not worth a pipe of tobacco. Tomorrow we throw ourselves heart and soul into these very researches, consumed with a burning thirst to absorb everything into ourselves, longing to spy out fresh paths and fretting impatiently at our inability to solve the problem fully and completely. Then down we sink again in disgust at the worthlessness of it all. As a grain of dust in the balance is the whole world, as a drop of mourning dew that falls on the ground. If man has two souls, which then is the right one? It is nothing new to suffer from the fact that our knowledge can be but fragmentary, that we can never fathom what lies behind. But suppose now that we could reckon it out, that the inmost secret of it all lay as clear and plain to us as a rule of three sum, should we be any the happier, possibly just the reverse? Is it not in the struggle to attain knowledge that happiness consists? I am very ignorant, consequently the conditions of happiness are mine. Let me fill a soothing pipe and be happy. No, the pipe is not a success. Twist tobacco is not delicate enough for airy dreams. Let me get a cigar. Oh, if one had a real Havana. Hmm, as if dissatisfaction, longing, suffering were not the very basis of life. Without privation there would be no struggle, and without struggle no life. That is as certain as the two and two make for. And now the struggle is to begin. It is looming yonder in the north. Oh, to drink delight of battle in long, deep drafts. Battle means life, and behind it victory beckons us on. I close my eyes. I hear a voice singing to me. In amongst the fragrant birch, in amongst the flowers perfume deep into the Pinewoods church. Monday, November 19th. Confounded affectation all this welch smirks. You have no right to be anything but a happy man. And if you feel out of spirits, it ought to cheer you up simply to go on deck and look at these seven puppies that come frisking and springing about you and are ready to tear you to pieces in sheer enjoyment of life. Life is sunshine to them, though the sun has long since gone, and they live on deck beneath a tent so that they cannot even see the stars. There is Kovik, the mother of the family, among them looking so plump and contented as she wags her tail. Have you not as much reason to be happy as they? Yet they too have their misfortunes. The afternoon of the day before yesterday as I was sitting at work I heard the mill going round and round and Peter taking food to the puppies, which as usual had a bit of a fight over the meat pan, and it struck me that the axle of the mill, whirling unguarded on the deck, was an extremely dangerous affair for them. Ten minutes later I heard a dog howling a more long-drawn and uncomfortable kind of howl than was usual when they were fighting, and at the same moment the mill slowed down. I rushed out, there I saw a puppy right in the axle, whirling round with it and howling piteously so that it cut one to the soul. Benson was hanging on to the break-robe, hauling at it with all his might and mane, but still the mill went round. My first idea was to seize an axe that was lying there to put the dog out of its misery, its cries were so heart-rending, but on second thoughts I hurried on to help Benson and we got the mill stopped. At the same moment Mogstad also came up, and while we held the mill he managed to set the puppy free. Apparently there was still some life in it and he set to work to rub it gently and coax it. The hair of its coat had somehow or other got frozen onto the smooth steel axle, and the poor beast had been swung round and bumped on the deck at every revolution of the wheel. At last it actually raised its head and looked round in a dazed way. It had made a good many revolutions so that it is no wonder if it found some difficulty in getting its bearings at first. Then it raised itself on its forepaws and I took it aft to the half-deck and stroked and patted it. Soon it got on all four legs again and began shambling about without knowing where it was going. It is a good thing it was caught by the hair, said Benson. I thought it was hanging fast by its tongue as the other one did. Only think of being fixed by the tongue to a revolving axle, the mere notion makes one shudder. I took the poor thing down into the saloon and did all I could for it. It soon got all right again and began playing with its companions as before. A strange life to rummage about on deck in the dark and cold, but whenever one goes up with a lantern they come tearing round, stare at the light, and begin bounding and dancing and gambling with each other round it, like children round a Christmas tree. This goes on day after day, and they have never seen anything else but this deck with a tarpaulin over it, not even the clear blue sky, and we men have never seen anything other than this earth. The last step over the bridge of resolution has now been taken. In the forenoon I explained the whole matter to Johansson in pretty much the same terms as I have used above, and then I expatiated on the difficulties that might occur and laid strong emphasis on the dangers one must be prepared to encounter. It was a serious matter, a matter of life or death. This one must not conceal from oneself. He must think the thing well over before determining whether he would accompany me or not. If he was willing to come I should be glad to have him with me, but I would rather, I said, he should take a day or two to think it well over before he gave me his answer. He did not need any time for reflection, he said, he was quite willing to go. Sverdrup had long ago mentioned the possibility of such an expedition, and he had thought it well over and made up his mind that if my choice should fall on him he would take it as a great favor to be permitted to accompany me. I don't know whether you'll be satisfied with this answer or whether you would like me still to think it over, but I should certainly never change my mind. No, if you have already thought seriously about it, thought what risks you expose yourself to, the chance, for instance, that neither of us may ever see the face of man again, and if you have reflected that even if we get through safe and sound we must necessarily face a great deal of hardship on an expedition like this. If you have made up your mind to all this I don't insist on your reflecting any longer about it. Yes, that I have. Well, then that is settled. Tomorrow we shall begin our preparations for the trip. Hansen must see about appointing another meteorological assistant. Tuesday, November 20th. This evening I delivered an address to the whole ship's company, in which I announced the determination that had been arrived at, and explained to them the projected expedition. First of all I briefly went through the whole theory of our undertaking and its history from the beginning, laying stress on the idea on which my plans had been built up, namely that a vessel which got frozen in north of Siberia must drift across the polar sea and out into the Atlantic, and must pass somewhere or other north of Franz Josefland and between it and the pole. The object of the expedition was to accomplish this drift across the unknown sea and to pursue investigations there. I pointed out to them that these investigations would be of equal importance, whether the expedition actually passed across the pole itself or at some distance from it. Judging from our experiences hitherto we could not entertain any doubt that the expedition would solve the problem it had set before it. Everything had up to the present gone according to our anticipations, and it was to be hoped and expected that this would continue to be the case for the remainder of the voyage. We had therefore every prospect of accomplishing the principal part of our task, but then the question arose whether more could not be accomplished, and thereupon I proceeded to explain in much the same terms as I have used above how this might be affected by an expedition northwards. I had the impression that everyone was deeply interested in the projected expedition, and that they all thought it most desirable that it should be attempted. The greatest objection I think they would averaged against it, had they been asked, would have been that they themselves could not take part in it. I impressed on them, however, that while it was unquestionably a fine thing to push on as far as possible towards the north, it was no wit less honourable and undertaking to bring the from safe and sound right through the polar sea and out on the other side, or if not the from, it all events themselves without any loss of life. This done we might say without fear of contradiction that it was well done. I think they all saw the force of this and were satisfied. So now the die is cast, and I must believe that this expedition will really take place. So we set about our preparations for it in downright earnest. I have already mentioned that at the end of the summer I had begun to make a kayak for a single man, the frame of which was of bamboo carefully lashed together. It was rather slow work and took several weeks, but it turned out both light and strong. When completed the framework weighed sixteen pounds. It was afterwards covered with sailcloth by spheridrop and blessing when the whole boat weighed thirty pounds. After finishing this I had entrusted Mogstead with the task of building a similar one. Johansson and I now set to work to make a cover for it. These kayaks were three point seven zero meters, twelve feet long, about zero point seven meter, twenty eight inches wide in the middle, and one was thirty centimeters, twelve inches, and the other thirty eight centimeters, fifteen inches deep. This is considerably shorter and wider than an ordinary Eskimo kayak, and consequently these boats were not so light to propel through the water. But as they were chiefly intended for crossing over channels and open spaces in the ice, and coasting along possible land, speed was not of much importance. The great thing was that the boat should be strong and light, and should be able to carry in addition to ourselves provisions and equipments for a considerable time. If we had made them longer and narrower, besides being heavier, they would have been more exposed to injury in the course of transport over the uneven ice. As they were built they proved admirably adapted for our purpose. When we loaded them with care we could stow away in them provisions and equipment for three months, at least for ourselves, besides a good deal of food for the dogs, and we could moreover carry a dog or two on the deck. In other respects they were essentially like the Eskimo kayaks, full decked, save for an aperture in the middle for a man to sit in. This aperture was encircled by a wooden ring after the Eskimo fashion, over which we could slip the lower part of our seal-skin jackets, specially adjusted for this purpose, so that the junction between boat and cape was water tight. When these jackets were drawn tight round the wrists and face the sea might sweep right over us without a drop of water coming into the kayak. We had to provide ourselves with such boats in case of having to cross open stretches of sea on our way to Spitsbergen, or if we chose the other route between Franz Josefland and Novia's Emilia. Besides this aperture in the middle there were small trapdoors four and aft in the deck to enable us to put our hands in and stow the provisions and also get things out more readily without having to take out all the freight through the middle aperture in case what we wanted lay at either extremity. These trapdoors, however, could be closed so as to be quite watertight. To make the canvas quite impervious to water the best plan would have been to have sized it and then painted it externally with ordinary oil paint. But on the one hand it was very difficult to do this work in the extreme cold. In the hold the temperature was minus twenty degrees centigrade minus four degrees Fahrenheit. And on the other hand I was afraid the paint might render the canvas too hard and brittle and apt to have holes knocked in it during transport over the ice. Therefore I preferred to steep it in a mixture of paraffin and tallow which added somewhat to the weight of the kayaks so that altogether they came to weigh about thirty-six pounds apiece. I had moreover some hand sledges made especially for this expedition. They were supple and strong, designed to withstand the severe tests to which an expedition with dogs and heavy freight over the uneven drift ice would necessarily expose them. Two of these sledges were about the same like the kayaks, that is, twelve feet. I also made several experiments with respect to the clothes we should wear and was especially anxious to ascertain whether it would do to go in our thick wolfskin garments but always came to the conclusion that they were too warm. Thus on November twenty-ninth I write, took another walk northwards in my wolfskin dress but it is still too mild, minus thirty-five point two degrees Fahrenheit, minus thirty-seven point six degrees centigrade. I sweated like a horse, though I went fasting and quite gently. It is rather heavy going now in the dark when one cannot use snowshoes. I wonder when it will be cold enough to use this dress. On December ninth again we went out on snowshoes. It was minus forty-one degrees centigrade, minus forty-one point eight degrees Fahrenheit. Went in wolfskin dress but the perspiration poured down our backs, enough to turn a mill. Too warm yet. Goodness knows if it will ever be cold enough. Of course we made some experiments with a tent and with a cooking apparatus. On December seventh I write, I pitched the silk tent we are going to take and used our cooking apparatus in it. From repeated trials it appeared that from ice of minus thirty-five degrees centigrade, minus thirty-one degrees Fahrenheit, we boiled three liters of water, five and one-fourth pints, and at the same time melted five liters, eight and three-quarter pints, in an hour and a half with a consumption of about one hundred twenty grams of snowflake petroleum. Next day we boiled two and a half liters of water over four pints and melted two and a half liters in one hour with one hundred grams of snowflake petroleum. Yesterday we made about two liters of excellent oatmeal porridge and at the same time got some half-melted ice and a little water in little over half an hour with fifty grams of snowflake petroleum. Thus there will be no very great consumption of fuel in the day. Then I made all kinds of calculations and computations in order to find out what would be the most advantageous kind of provisions for our expedition, it being of the greatest moment that the food, both for dogs and men, should be nutritious and yet should not weigh more than was absolutely necessary. Later on in the list of our equipments I shall give the final result of my deliberations on this matter. Besides all this we had of course to consider and test the instruments to be taken with us and to go into many other matters which though perhaps trifles in themselves were yet absolutely necessary. It is on the felicitous combination of all these trifles that ultimate success depends. We too passed the greater portion of our time in these preparations which also kept many of the others pretty busy during the winter. Mogstead, for instance, found steady employment in making sledges and fitting them with runners, et cetera. Sverder busied himself in making sleeping bags and many other things. Ewell was appointed dog-tailor and when he was not busy in the galley his time was devoted to taking the measurements of the dogs, making harness for them and testing it. Blessing, too, fitted up for us a small light medicine chest containing selected drugs, bandages, and such other things as might be of use. One man was constantly employed in copying out all our journals and scientific observations, et cetera, et cetera, on thin paper in a contracted form as I wanted by way of making doubly sure of their preservation to take a copy of them along with me. One was occupied in preparing tabular forms necessary for our observations, curves of the movement of our chronometers and other such things. Besides this he was to make a complete chart of our voyage and drifting up to the present time. I could not, however, make too great a claim on his valuable time, as it was necessary that he should continue his scientific observations without interruption. During this autumn he had greatly increased the comfort of his work by building, along with Johansson, an observation hut of snow not unlike an Eskimo cabin. He found himself very much at his ease in it, with a petroleum lamp hanging from the roof, the light of which being reflected by the wide snow walls made quite a brilliant show. Here he could manipulate his instruments quietly and comfortably, undisturbed by the biting wind outside. He thought it quite warm there, too, when he could get the temperature up to something like twenty degrees below freezing point, so that he was able without much inconvenience to adjust his instruments with bare hands. Here he worked away, indefatigably, at his observations day after day, watching the often mysterious movements of the magnetic needle which would sometimes give him no end of trouble. One day, it was November twenty-fourth, he came into supper a little after six o'clock, quite alarmed, and said, There has just been a singular inclination of the needle to twenty-four degrees, and remarkably enough its northern extremity pointed to the east. I cannot remember having heard of such an inclination. He also had several others of about fifteen degrees. At the same time through the opening into his observatory he noticed that it was unusually light out of doors, and that not only the ship, but the ice in the distance was as plainly visible as if it had been full moonlight. No aurora, however, could be discerned through the thick clouds that covered the sky. It would appear, then, that this unusual inclination was in some way connected with the northern lights, though it was to the east and not to the west as usual. There could be no question of any movement of the flow on which we were lying, for everything had been perfectly still and quiet, and it is in conceivable that a disturbance which could cause such a remarkable oscillation of two points and back again in so short a space of time should not have been noticed and heard on board. This theory, therefore, is entirely excluded, and the whole matter seems to me, for the present, to be incomprehensible. Blessing and I had once went on deck to look at the sky. Certainly it was so light that we could see the lanes in the ice astern quite plainly, but there was nothing remarkable in that. It happened often enough. Friday November thirtieth I found a bear's track on the ice in front of our bow. The bear had come from the east, trotting very gently along the lane on the newly frozen ice, but he must have been scared by something or other ahead of the vessel as he had gone off again with long strides in the direction from which he had come. Strange that living creatures should be roaming about in this desert. What can they have to do here? If only one had such a stomach one could at least stand a journey to the pole and back without a meal. We shall probably have him back again soon, that is if I understand his nature, all right, and then perhaps he will come a little closer so that we may have a good look at him. I paced the lane in front of the port bow. It was three hundred forty-eight paces across and maintained the same width for a considerable distance eastward, nor can it be much narrower for a great distance to the west. Now when one bears in mind that the lane behind us is also of considerable width, it is rather consoling, after all, to think that the ice does permit of such large openings. There must be room enough to drift if we only get wind, wind which will never come. On the whole November has been an uncommonly wretched month, driven back instead of forward, and yet this month was so good last year. But one can never rely on the seasons in this dreadful sea, taking all in all perhaps the winter will not be a bit better than the summer. Yet it surely must improve, I cannot believe otherwise. The skies are clouded with a thick veil through which the stars barely glisten. It is darker than usual, and in this eternal night we drift about, lonely and forsaken. Where the whole world was filled with a shining light and undisturbed activity. Above those men alone brooded not but depressing night, an image of that gloom which was soon to swallow them up. This dark, deep, silent void is like the mysterious, unfathomable well into which you look for that something which you think must be there, only to meet the reflection of your own eyes. Ugg, the worn out thoughts you could never get rid of, become in the end very weary some company. Is there no means of fleeing from oneself, to grasp one single thought, only a single one, which lies outside oneself, is there no way except death? But death is certain, one day it will come, silent and majestic. It will open Dervana's mighty portal, and we shall be swept away into the sea of eternity. Sunday December 2nd Sverdrup has now been ill for some days. During the last day or two he has been laid up in his birth and is still there. I trust it is nothing serious. He himself thinks nothing of it. Nevertheless it is very disquieting. Poor fellow he lives entirely on oatmeal gruel. It is an intestinal Qatar which he probably contracted through catching cold on the ice. I'm afraid he has been rather careless in this respect. However he is now improving, so that probably it will soon pass off, but it is a warning not to be overconfident. I went for a long walk this morning along the lane. It is quite a large one, extending a good way to the east, and being of considerable breadth at some points. It is only after walking for a while on the newly frozen ice where walking is as easy and comfortable as on a well-trodden path, and then coming up to the snow-covered surface of the old ice again, that one thoroughly appreciates for the first time what it means to go without snowshoes. The difference is something marvelous. Even if I have not felt warm before, I break out into a perspiration after going a short distance over the rough ice. But what can one do? One cannot use snowshoes. It is so dark that it is difficult enough to grope one's way about with ordinary boots, and even then one stumbles about or slips down between great blocks of ice. I am now reading the various English stories of the polar expeditions during the Franklin period and the search for him, and I must admit I am filled with admiration for these men and the amount of labor they expended. The English nation truly has caused to be proud of them. I remember reading these stories as a lad, and all my boyish fancies were strangely thrilled with longing for the scenery and the scenes which were displayed before me. I am reading them now as a man, after having had a little experience myself, and now, when my mind is uninfluenced by romance, I bow in admiration. There was grit in men like Perry, Franklin, James Ross, Bridgetson, and last but not least, in McClintock and, indeed, in all the rest. How well was their equipment thought out and arranged with the means they had at their disposal? Truly there is nothing new under the sun. Most of what I prided myself upon and what I thought to be new, I find they had anticipated. McClintock used the same thing forty years ago. It was not their fault that they were born in a country where the use of snowshoes is unknown and where snow is scarcely to be found throughout the whole winter. Nevertheless, despite the fact that they had to gain their experience of snow and snow travel during their sojourn up here, despite the fact that they were without snowshoes and had to toil on as best they could, with sledges with narrow runners over uneven snow-covered drift-ice, what distances did they not cover, what fatigues and trials did they not endure? No one has surpassed and scarcely any one approached them, unless perhaps the Russians on the Siberian coast, but then they have the great advantage of being natives of a country where snow is not uncommon. Friday December fourteenth Yesterday we held a great festivity in honour of the Fram as being the vessel which has attained the highest latitude the day before yesterday we reached eighty-two degrees thirty minutes north latitude. The bill affair at dinner was boiled mackerel with parsley butter sauce, pork cutlets and French peas, Norwegian wild strawberries with rice and milk, crown malt extract, afterwards coffee, for supper, new bread and current cake, etc., etc. Later in the evening a grand concert, sweets and preserved pears were handed round. The culminating point of the entertainment was reached when a steaming hot and fragrant bowl of cherry punch was carried in and served round among general hilarity. Our spirits were already very high, but this gave colour to the whole proceedings. The greatest puzzle to most of them was where the ingredients for the punch and more particularly the alcohol had come from. Then followed the toasts, first a long and festive one to the Fram which had now shown what she was capable of. It ran somewhat to this effect. There were many wise men who shook their heads when we started and sent us ominous farewell greetings, but their headshakings would have been less vigorous and their evil forebodings milder if they could have seen us at this moment, drifting quietly and at our ease across the most northerly latitudes ever attained by any vessel and still further northward. And the Fram is now not only the most northerly vessel on the globe, but has already passed over a large expanse of hitherto unknown regions many degrees farther north than have ever been reached in this ocean on this side of the pole. But we hope she will not stop here. Concealed behind the mist of the future there are many triumphs in store for us, triumphs which will dawn upon us one by one when their time has come. But we will not speak of this now, we will be content with what has actually been achieved, and I believe that the promise implied in Bjornsson's greeting to us and to the Fram when she was launched has already been fulfilled, and with him we can exclaim, Hurrah for the ship and her voyage dread, where never before a keel has sped, where never before a name was spoken, by Norway's name is the silence broken. We could not help a peculiar feeling almost akin to shame when comparing the toil and privation and frequently incredible sufferings undergone by our predecessors in earlier expeditions, with the easy manner in which we are drifting across unknown expanses of our globe larger than it has been the lot of most if not all of the former polar explorers to travel over at a stretch. Yes, truly, I think we have every reason to be satisfied with our voyage so far, and with the Fram, and I trust we shall be able to bring something back to Norway in return for the trust, the sympathy and the money which she has expended on us. But let us not on this account forget our predecessors, let us admire them for the way in which they struggled and endured, let us remember that it is only through their labours and achievements that the way has been prepared for the present voyage. It is thanks to their collective experience that mankind has now got so far as to be able to cope to some extent with what has hitherto been his most dangerous and obstinate enemy in the Arctic regions, that is, the drift-ice, and to do so by the very simple expedient of going with it and not against it, and allowing oneself to be hemmed in by it, not involuntarily but intentionally, and preparing for it beforehand. On board this vessel we tried to cull the fruits of all our predecessors' experiences. It has taken years to collect them, but I felt that with these I should be enabled to face any vicissitude of fate in unknown waters. I think we have been fortunate. I think we are all of the opinion that there is no imaginable difficulty or obstacle before us, that we ought not to be able to overcome with the means and resources we possess on board, and be thus enabled to return at last to Norway safe and sound with a rich harvest. Therefore, let us drink a bumper to the frown. Next there followed some musical items and a performance by Lars the Smith who danced a passeul to the great amusement of the company. Lars assured us that if he ever reached home again and were present at a gathering similar to those held at Christiania and Bergen on our departure, his legs should be taxed to their uttermost. This was followed by a toast to those at home who were waiting for us year after year, not knowing where to picture us in thought who were vainly yearning for tidings of us, but whose faith in us and our voyage was still firm, to those who consented to our departure and who may well be said to have made the greatest sacrifice. The festivity continued with music and marryment throughout the evening, and our good humor was certainly not spoiled. When our excellent doctor came forward with cigars, a commodity which is getting highly valued up here, as, unfortunately, it is becoming very scarce. The only cloud in our existence is that Sverdrub has not yet quite recovered from his guitar. He must keep strict diet, and this does not at all suit him, poor fellow. He is only allowed wheat and bread, milk, raw bears, flesh, and oatmeal porridge, whereas if he had his own way he would eat everything including cake, preserves, and fruit. But he has returned to duty now, and has already been out for a turn on the ice. It was late at night when I retired to my cabin, but I was not yet in a fit mood to go to sleep. I felt I must go out and saunter in the wonderful moonlight. On the moon there was, as usual, a large ring, and above it there was an arc which just touched it at the upper edge, but the two ends of which curved downwards instead of upwards. It looked as if it were part of a circle whose centre was situated far below the moon. At the lower edge of the ring there was a large mock moon, or rather a large luminous patch, which was most pronounced at the upper part where it touched the ring, and had a yellow upper edge from which it spread downwards in the form of a triangle. It looked as if it might be an arc of a circle on the lower side of and in contact with the ring. Right across the moon there were drifting several luminous cirrus streaks. The whole produced a fantastic effect. Saturday December 22. The same southeasterly wind has turned into a regular storm howling and rattling cheerily through the rigging, and we are doubtless drifting northwards at a good rate. If I go outside the tent on deck, the wind whistles round my ears and the snow beats into my face and I am soon covered with it. From the snow-hut observatory, or even at a lesser distance, the from is invisible, and it is almost impossible to keep one's eyes open owing to the blinding snow. I wonder whether we have not passed eighty-three degrees. But I am afraid this joy will not be a lasting one, the barometer has fallen alarmingly and the wind has generally been up to thirteen or fourteen meters, forty-four or fifty feet, per second. About half-past twelve last night the vessel suddenly received a strong pressure rattling everything on board. I could feel the vibration under me for a long time afterwards while lying in my berth. Finally I could hear the roaring and grating caused by the ice pressure. I told the watch to listen carefully and ascertain where the pressure was and to notice whether the flow on which we were lying was likely to crack and whether any part of our equipment was in danger. He thought he could hear the noise of ice pressure both forward and aft, but it was not easy to distinguish it from the roar of the tempest in the rigging. Today about twelve-thirty at noon the from received another violent shock, even stronger than that we had experienced during the night. There was another shake a little later. I suppose there has been a pressure aft but could hear nothing for the storm. It is odd about this pressure. One would think that the wind was the primary cause, but it recurs pretty regularly notwithstanding the fact that the spring tide has not yet set in. Indeed when it commenced a few days ago it was almost a neap tide. In addition to the pressure of yesterday and last night we had pressure on Thursday morning at half past nine and again at half past eleven. It was so strong that Peter, who was at the sounding-hole, jumped up repeatedly thinking that the ice would burst underneath him. It is very singular. We have been quiet for so long now that we feel almost nervous when the from receives these shocks. Everything seems to tremble as if in a violent earthquake. Sunday December twenty-third, wind still unchanged and blowing equally fresh up to thirteen or fourteen meters, forty-four or forty-seven feet. The snow is drifting and sweeping so that nothing can be distinguished. The darkness is intense. Abaft on the deck there are deep mounds of snow lying around the wheel and the rails so that when we go up on deck we get a genuine sample of an Arctic winter. The outlook is enough to make you shudder and feel grateful that instead of having to turn out in such weather you may dive back again into the tent and down the companion way into your warm bunk, but soon no doubt Johansson and I will have to face it out day and night even in such weather as this whether we like it or not. This morning Petterson, who has had charge of the dogs this week, came down to the saloon and asked whether someone would come out with him on the ice with a rifle as he was sure there was a bear. Peter and I went, but we could not find anything. The dogs left off barking when we arrived on the scene and commenced to play with each other, but Petterson was right in saying that it was horrid weather, it was almost enough to take away one's breath to face the wind, and the drifting snow forced its way into the mouth and nostrils. The vessel could not be distinguished beyond a few paces so that it was not advisable to go any distance away from her, and it was very difficult to walk, for what with snowdrifts and ice mounds at one moment you stumbled against the frozen edge of a snowdrift, at another you tumbled into a hole, it was pitch dark all round. The barometer had been falling steadily and rapidly, but it lasted his commenced to rise slightly, it now registers about 726 millimeters, 28.6 inches. The thermometer as usual is describing the inverse curve. In the afternoon it rose steadily until it registered minus 21.3 degrees centigrade, minus 6 degrees Fahrenheit. Now it appears to be falling again a little, but the wind still keeps exactly in the same quarter. It has surely shifted us by now a good way to the north well beyond the 83rd degree. It is quite pleasant to hear the wind whistling and rattling and the rigging overhead. Alas, we know that all terrestrial bliss is short-lived. About midnight the mate who has the watch comes down and reports that the ice has cracked just beyond the thermometer house between it and the sounding hole. This is the same crack that we had in the summer, and it has now burst open again, and probably the hole flow in which we are lying is split from the lane ahead to the lane astern of us. The thermograph and other instruments are being brought on board so that we may run no risk of losing them in the event of pressure of ice, but otherwise there is scarcely anything that could be endangered. The sounding apparatus is at some distance from the open channel on the other side. The only thing left there is the shears with the iron block standing over the hole. Thursday, December 27th. Christmas has come round again, and we are still so far from home. How dismal it all is! Nevertheless I am not melancholy. I might rather say I am glad. I feel as if awaiting something great which lies hidden in the future. After long hours of uncertainty I can now discern the end of this dark night. I have no doubt all will turn out successfully, that the voyage is not in vain, and the time not wasted, and that our hopes will be realized. An explorer's lot is perhaps hard, and his life full of disappointments, as they all say, but it is also full of beautiful moments, moments when he beholds the triumphs of human faith and human will, when he catches sight of the haven of success and peace. I am in a singular frame of mind just now, in a state of sheer unrest. I have not felt inclined for riding during the last few days, thoughts come and go and carry me irresistibly ahead. I can scarcely make myself out, but who can fathom the depths of the human mind? The brain is a puzzling piece of mechanism. We are such stuff as dreams are made of. Is it so? I almost believe it, a microcosm of eternity's infinite stuff that dreams are made of. This is the second Christmas spent far away in the solitude of night, in the realm of death farther north and deeper into the midst of it than anyone has been before. There is something strange in the feeling, and then this, too, is our last Christmas on board the from. It makes one almost sad to think of it. The vessel is like a second home and has become dear to us. Perhaps our comrades may spend another Christmas here, possibly several without us, who will go forth from them in the midst of the solitude. This Christmas passed off quietly and pleasantly, and everyone seems to be well content. By no means the least circumstance that added to our enjoyment was that the wind brought us the 83rd degree as a Christmas box. Our luck was, this time more lasting than I had anticipated. The wind continued fresh on Monday and Tuesday, but little by little it lulled down and veered round to the north and northeast. Yesterday and today it has been in the northwest. Well, we must put up with it. One cannot help having a little contrary wind at times, and probably it will not last long. Christmas Eve was, of course, celebrated with great feasting. The table presented a truly imposing array of Christmas confectionery. Poor man's pastry, staghorn pastry, honey cakes, macaroons, sister cake, and whatnot, besides sweets and the like, many may have fared worse. Moreover, blessing and I had worked during the day in the sweat of our brow and produced a polar champagne 83rd degree, which made a sensation, and which we too, at least, believed we had every reason to be proud of, being a product derived from the noble grape of the polar regions, that is, the Cloudberry, Malter. The others seemed to enjoy it too, and, of course, many toasts were drunk in this noble beverage. Quantities of illustrated books were then brought forth. There was music and stories and songs and general merriment. On Christmas Day, of course, we had a special dinner. After dinner, coffee and curacao made here on board, and Nordahl then came forward with Russian cigarettes. At night the bowl of Cloudberry Punch was served out, which did not seem, by any means, unwelcome. Mox did play the violin, and Pedersen was electrified thereby to such a degree that he sang and danced to us. He really exhibits considerable talent as a comedian, and has a decided bent towards the ballet. It is astonishing what versatility he displays. Engineer, blacksmith, tinsmith, cook, master of ceremonies, comedian, dancer, and last of all he has come out in the capacity of a first-class barber and hairdresser. There was a grand ball at night. Mox did had to play till the perspiration poured from him. Hansen and I had to figure as ladies. Pedersen was indefatigable. He faithfully and solemnly vowed that if he has a pair of boots to his feet when he gets home he will dance as long as the souls hold together. Day after day as we progressed with a rattling wind, first from southeast and later on east-southeast and east, we felt more anxious to know how far we had got, but there had always been a snowstorm or a cloudy sky, so that we could not make any observations. We were all confident that we must have got a long way up north, but how far beyond the 83rd degree no one could tell. Suddenly Hansen was called on deck this afternoon by the news that the stars were visible overhead. All were on the tiptoe of expectation, but when he came down he had only observed one star, which, however, was so near the meridian that he could calculate that at any rate we were north of 83 degrees 20 minutes north latitude, and this communication was received with shouts of joy. If we were not yet in the most northerly latitude ever reached by man, we were at all events not far from it. This was more than we had expected and we were in high spirits. Yesterday, being the second Christmas day, of course, both on this account and because it was Ewell's birthday, we had a special dinner with oxtail soup, pork cutlets, red hortleberry preserve, cauliflower, fricando, potatoes, preserved currants, also pastry, and a wonderful iced almond cake with the words, gladly Ewell, a merry Christmas on it, from Hanson, Baker, Christiania, and then malt extract. We cannot complain that we are faring badly here. About four o'clock this morning the vessel received a violent shock which made everything tremble, but no noise of ice-packing was to be heard. At about half past five I heard at intervals the crackling and crunching of the pack ice which was surging in the land ahead. At night similar noises were also heard, otherwise the ice was quiet and the crack on the port side has closed up tight again. Friday, December 28. I went out in the morning to have a look at the crack on the port side which is now widened out so as to form an open lane. Of course all the dogs followed me and I had not got far when I saw a dark form disappear. This was Pan who rolled down the high steep edge of the ice and fell into the water. In vain he struggled to get out again. All round him there was nothing but snow slush which afforded no foothold. I could scarcely hear a sound of him, only just a faint whining now and then. I leaned down over the edge in order to get near him, but it was too high, and I very nearly went after him head first. All that I could get hold of was loose fragments of ice and lumps of snow. I called for a seal-hook, but before it was brought to me Pan had scrambled out himself and was leaping to and fro on the flow with all his might to keep himself warm, followed by the other dogs who loudly barked and gambled about with him as though they wished to demonstrate their joy at his rescue. When he fell in they all rushed forward looking at me and whining. They evidently felt sorry for him and wished me to help him. They said nothing but just ran up and down along the edge until he got out. At another moment perhaps they may all unite in tearing him to pieces such as canine and human nature. Pan was allowed to dry himself in the saloon all the afternoon. A little before half-past nine to-night the vessel received a tremendous shock. I went out, but no noise of ice-packing could be heard. However, the wind howled so in the rigging that it was not easy to distinguish any other sound. At half-past ten another shock followed. Later on from time to time vibrations were felt in the vessel and towards half-past eleven the shocks became stronger. It was clear that the ice was packing at some place or other about us and I was just on the point of going out when Mogstead came to announce that there was a very ugly pressure ridge ahead. We went out with lanterns. Fifty-six paces from the bow there extended a perpendicular ridge stretching along the course of the lane and there was a terrible pressure going on at that moment. It roared and crunched and crackled all along, then it abated a little and recurred at intervals as though in a regular rhythm. Finally it passed over into a continuous roar. It seemed to be mostly newly frozen ice from the channels which had formed this ridge but there were also some ponderous blocks of ice to be seen among it. It pressed slowly but surely forward towards the vessel. The ice had given way before it to a considerable distance and was still being borne down little by little. The flow around us has cracked so that the block of ice in which the vessel is embedded is smaller than it was. I should not like to have that pressure ridge come in right under the nose of the Fromm as it might soon do some damage. Although there is hardly any prospect of its getting so far, nevertheless I have given orders to the watch to keep a sharp lookout and if it comes very near or if the ice should crack under us he is to call me. Probably the pressure will soon abate as it has now kept up for several hours. At this moment, twelve forty-five a.m., there have just been some violent shocks and above the howling of the wind in the rigging I can hear the roar of the ice pressure as I lie in my birth. End of file two. File three of Farthest North, volume two. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Sharon Riscadal. Farthest North by Fridjof Nansen, volume two, chapter two. The New Year, 1895. Wednesday January 2nd, 1895. Never before have I had such strange feelings at the commencement of the New Year. It cannot fail to bring some momentous events and will possibly become one of the most remarkable years in my life, whether it leads me to success or to destruction. Years come and go unnoticed in this world of ice and we have no more knowledge here of what these years have brought to humanity than we know of what the future ones have in store. In this silent nature no events ever happen. All is shrouded in darkness. There is nothing in view save the twinkling stars immeasurably far away in the freezing night and the flickering sheen of the aurora borealis. I can just discern close by the vague outline of the from, dimly standing out in the desolate gloom with her rigging showing dark against the host of stars. Like an infinitesimal speck the vessel seems lost amidst the boundless expanse of this realm of death. Nevertheless under her deck there is a snug and cherished home for thirteen men undaunted by the majesty of this realm. In there life is freely pulsating while far away outside in the night there is nothing save death and silence only broken now and then at long intervals by the violent pressure of the ice as it surges along in gigantic masses. It sounds most ominous in the great stillness and one cannot help an uncanny feeling as if supernatural powers were at hand the yotans and rim-turser frost giants of the arctic regions with whom we may have to engage in deadly combat at any moment but we are not afraid of them. I often think of Shakespeare's viola who sat like patients on a monument. Could we not pass as representatives of this marble patients imprisoned here on the ice while the years roll by awaiting our time? I should like to design such a monument. It should be a lonely man in shaggy wolf skin clothing all covered with whorefrost sitting on a mound of ice and gazing out into the darkness across these boundless ponderous masses of ice awaiting the return of daylight and spring. The ice pressure was not noticeable after one o'clock on Friday night until it suddenly recommended last night. First I heard a rumbling outside and some snow fell down from the rigging upon the tent-roof as I sat reading. I thought it sounded like packing in the ice and just then the from received a violent shock such as she had not received since last winter. I was rocked backward and forward on the chest on which I was sitting. Finding that the trembling and rumbling continued I went out. There was a loud roar of ice-packing to the west and northwest which continued uniformly for a couple of hours or so. Is this the New Year's greeting from the ice? We spent New Year's Eve cosily with a cloudberry punch-bowl, pipes and cigarettes. Needless to say there was an abundance of cakes and the like and we spoke of the old and the new year and days to come. Some selections were played on the organ and violin. Thus midnight arrived. Blessing produced from his apparently inexhaustible store a bottle of genuine lignia akavit, lign Odevi, and in this Norwegian liquor we drank the old year out and the new year in. Of course there was many a thought that would obtrude itself at the change of the year being the second which we had seen on board the from and also in all probability the last that we should all spend together. Naturally enough one thanked one's comrades individually and collectively for all kindness and good fellowship. Hardly one of us had thought perhaps that the time would pass so well up here. Sverderb expressed the wish that the journey which Johansson and I were about to make in the coming year might be fortunate and bring success in all respects. And then we drank to the health and well-being in the coming year of those who were to remain behind on board the from. It so happened that just now at the turn of the year we stood on the verge of an entirely new world. The wind which whistled up in the rigging overhead was not only wafting us on to unknown regions but also up into higher latitudes than any human foot had ever trod. We felt that this year which was just commencing would bring the culminating point of the expedition when it would bear its richest fruits. Would that this year might prove a good year for those on board the from, that the from might go ahead fulfilling her task as she has hitherto done, and in that case none of us could doubt that those on board would also prove equal to the task entrusted to them. New Year's Day was ushered in with the same wind, the same stars, and the same darkness as before. Even at noon one cannot see the slightest glimmer of twilight in the south. Yesterday I thought I could trace something of the kind. It extended like a faint gleam of light over the sky, but it was yellowish-white and stretched too high up, hence I am rather inclined to think that it was an aurora borealis. Again today the sky looks lighter near the edge, but this can scarcely be anything except the gleam of the aurora borealis which extends all round the sky, a little above the fog banks on the horizon, and which is strongest at the edge. Exactly similar lights may be observed at other times in other parts of the horizon. The air was particularly clear yesterday, but the horizon is always somewhat foggy or hazy. During the night we had an uncommonly strong aurora borealis. Wavy streamers were darting in rapid twists over the southern sky, their rays reaching to the zenith, and beyond it there was to be seen for a time a band in the form of a gorgeous corona, casting a reflection like moonshine across the ice. The sky had lit up its torch in honour of the new year, a fairy dance of darting streamers in the depth of night. I cannot help often thinking that this contrast might be taken as typical of the Northmen's character and destiny. In the midst of this gloomy silent nature with all its numbing cold we have all these shooting, glittering, quivering rays of light. Do they not typify our impetuous spring dances, our wild mountain melodies, the auroral gleams in our souls, the rushing, surging spiritual forces behind the mantle of ice? There is a dawning life in the slumbering night if it could only reach beyond the icy desert, out over the world. Thus 1895 comes in. Turn fortune, turn thy wheel, and lower the proud, turn thy wild wheel through sunshine, storm, and cloud. Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate. Smile and we smile, the lords of many lands, frown and we frown, the lords of our own hands, for man is man, and master of his fate. Thursday January 3 A day of unrest, a changeful life, not withstanding all its monotony. But yesterday we were full of plans for the future, and today how easily might we have been left on the ice without a roof over our heads. At half past four in the morning a fresh rush of ice set in in the lane aft, and at five it commenced in the lane on our portside. About eight o'clock I awoke and heard the crunching and crackling of the ice as if ice pressure were setting in. A slight trembling was felt throughout the from and I heard the roar outside. When I came out I was not a little surprised to find a large pressure ridge all along the channel on the portside scarcely thirty paces from the from. The cracks on this side extended to quite eighteen paces from us. All loose articles that were lying on the ice on this side were stowed away on board. The boards and planks which during the summer had supported the meteorological hut and the screen for the same were chopped up as we could not afford to lose any materials, but the line which had been left out in the sounding hole with the bag net attached to it was caught in the pressure. Just after I had come on board again shortly before noon the ice suddenly began to press on again. I went out to have a look. It was again in the lane on the portside. There was a strong pressure and the ridge was gradually approaching. A little later on Sverdrup went up on deck, but soon after came below and told us that the ridge was quickly bearing down on us, and a few hands were required to come up and help to load the sludge with the sounding apparatus and bring it round to the starboard side of the from as the ice had cracked close by it. The ridge began to come alarmingly near, and should it be upon us before the from had broken loose from the ice, matters might become very unpleasant. The vessel had now a greater list to the portside than ever. During the afternoon various preparations were made to leave the ship if the worst should happen. All the sledges were placed ready on deck, and the kayaks were also made clear. Twenty-five cases of dog biscuits were deposited on the ice on the starboard side, and nineteen cases of bread were brought up and placed forward. Also four drums, holding altogether twenty-two gallons of petroleum, were put on deck. Ten smaller-sized tins had previously been filled with one hundred litres of snowflake oil, and various vessels containing gasoline were also standing on deck. As we were sitting at supper we again heard the same crunching and crackling noise in the ice as usual, coming nearer and nearer, and finally we heard a crash proceeding from right underneath where we sat. I rushed up. There was a pressure of ice in the lane a little way off, almost on our starboard beam. I went down again and continued my meal. Peter, who had gone out on the ice, soon after came down and said laughing as usual that it was no wonder we heard some crackling, for the ice had cracked not a sledge-length away from the dog biscuit cases and the crack was extending a BAFTA of the Fromm. I went out and found the crack was a very considerable one. The dog biscuit cases were now shifted a little more forward for greater safety. We also found several minor cracks in the ice around the vessel. I then went down and had a pipe and a pleasant chat with Sferdrup in his cabin. After we had been sitting a good while the ice again began to crack and jam. I did not think that the noise was greater than usual. Nevertheless I asked those in the saloon who sat playing Halma whether there was any one on deck, if not would one of them be kind enough to go and see where the ice was packing. I heard hurried steps above. Nordahl came down and reported that it was on the port side and that it would be best for us to be on deck. Peter and I jumped up and several followed. As I went down the ladder Peter called out to me from above, we must get the dogs out, see there is water on the ice. It was high time that we came. The water was rushing in and already stood high in the kennel. Peter waded into the water up to his knees and pushed the door open. Most of the dogs rushed out and jumped about splashing in the water, but some being frightened had crept back into the innermost corner and had to be dragged out although they stood in water reaching high up their legs. Poor brutes, it must have been miserable enough in all conscience to be shut up in such a place while the water was steadily rising about them, yet they are not more noisy than usual. The dogs having been put in safety, I walked round the from to see what else had happened. The ice had cracked along her to the fore near the starboard bow. From this crack the water had poured aft along the port side which was way down by the weight of the ridge steadily pressing on towards us. The crack has just passed under the middle of the portable forge which was thus endangered and it was therefore put on a sledge and removed to the great hummock on the starboard quarter. The Pemmican, altogether eleven cases, the cases of dog biscuits and nineteen cases of bread were conveyed to the same place. Thus we have now a complete depot lying over there, and I trust in entire safety the ice being so thick that it is not likely to give way. This has brought life into the lads, they have all turned out. We took out four more tin cans of petroleum to the hummock, then proceeded to bring up from the hold and place on deck ready for removal twenty-one cases of bread and a supply of Pemmican, chocolate, butter, real food, soup, etc., calculated to last us two hundred days. Also tents, cooking apparatus, and the like were got ready so that now all is clear up there, and we may sleep securely, but it was past midnight before we had done. I still trust that it is all a false alarm and that we shall have no occasion for these supplies now at any rate, nevertheless it is our duty to keep everything ready in case the unthinkable should happen. Moreover, the watch has been enjoined to mind the dogs on the ice and to keep a sharp look out in case the ice should crack underneath our cases or the ice pressure should recommend. If anything should happen we are to be called out at once too early rather than too late. While I sit here and write I hear the crunching and crackling beginning again outside so that there must still be a steady pressure on the ice. All are in the best spirit, it almost appears as if they looked upon this as a pleasant break in the monotony of our existence. While it is half past one I had better turn into my bunk, I am tired and goodness knows how soon I may be called up. Friday January 4th. The ice kept quiet during the night, but all day with some intervals it has been crackling and settling, and this evening there have been several fits of pressure from nine o'clock onward. For a time it came on, sometimes rather lightly at regular intervals, sometimes with a rush and a regular roar, then it subsided somewhat and then it roared anew. Meanwhile the pressure ridge towers higher and higher and bears right down upon us slowly, while the pressure comes on at intervals only and more quickly when the onset continues for a time. One can actually see it creeping nearer and nearer, and now at one o'clock at night it is not many feet, scarcely five, away from the edge of the snow-drift on the port side near the gangway, and thence to the vessel is scarcely more than ten feet, so that it will not be long now before it is upon us. Meanwhile the ice continues to split, and the solid mass in which we are embedded grows less and less both to port and starboard. Several fissures extend right up to the Fromm, as the ice sinks down under the weight of the ridge on the port side and the Fromm lists more that way, more water rushes up over the new ice which has frozen on the water that rose yesterday. This is like dying by inches. Slowly but surely the baleful ridge advances and it looks as if it meant going right over the rail, but if the Fromm will only oblige by getting free of the ice she will, I feel confident, wait herself yet, even though matters look rather awkward at present. We shall probably have a hard time of it, however, before she can break loose if she does not do so at once. I have been out and had a look at the ridge and seen how surely it is advancing. I have looked at the fissures in the ice and noted how they are forming and expanding round the vessel. I have listened to the ice crackling and crunching underfoot, and I do not much feel disposed to turn into my birth before I see the Fromm quite released. As I sit here now I hear the ice making a fresh assault and roaring and packing outside and I can tell that the ridge is coming nearer. This is an ice pressure with a vengeance and it seems as if it would never cease. I do not think there is anything more we can do now, all is in readiness for leaving the vessel if need be. Today the clothing, etc., was taken out and placed ready for removal in separate bags for each man. It is very strange, there is certainly a possibility that all our plans may be crossed by unforeseen events, although it is not very probable that this will happen. As yet I feel no anxiety in that direction, only I should like to know whether we are really to take everything on to the ice or not. However it is past one o'clock and I think the most sensible thing to do would be to turn in and sleep. The watch has orders to call me when the hammock reaches the Fromm. It is lucky it is moonlight now so that we are able to see something of all this abomination. The day before yesterday we saw the moon for the first time just above the horizon. Yesterday it was shining a little and now we have it both day and night, a most favorable state of things. But it is nearly two o'clock and I must go to sleep now. The pressure of the ice I can hear is stronger again. Saturday January 5th. Tonight everybody sleeps fully dressed and with the most indispensable necessaries either by his side or secured to his body, ready to jump on the ice at the first warning. All other requisites, such as provisions, clothing, sleeping bags, etc., etc., have been brought out on the ice. We have been at work at this all day and have got everything into perfect order and are now quite ready to leave if necessary, which, however, I do not believe will be the case, though the ice pressure has been as bad as it could be. I slept soundly, woke up only once, and listened to the crunching and jamming and grinding till I fell asleep again. I was called at 5.30 in the morning by Sferdrup, who told me that the hammock had now reached the Fromm and was bearing down on us violently, reaching as high as the rail. I was not left in doubt very long as hardly had I opened my eyes when I heard a thundering and crashing outside in the ice as if doomsday had come. I jumped up. There was nothing left for it but to call all hands, to put all the remaining provisions on the ice, and then put all our furs and other equipment on deck so that they could be thrown overboard at a moment's notice if necessary. Thus the day passed, but the ice kept quiet. Last of all the petroleum launch, which was hanging in the davits on the port side, was lowered and was dragged towards the great hammock. At about eight o'clock in the evening, when we thought the ice pressure had subsided, it started thundering and crashing again worse than ever. I hurried up. Masses of snow and ice rushed on us, high above the rail, amid ships and over the tent. Another who also came up seized a spade and rushed forward outside the awning as far as the four part of the half-deck and stood in the midst of the ice digging away and I followed to see how matter stood. I saw more than I cared to see. It was hopeless to fight that enemy with a spade. I called out to Peter to come back and said we had better see to getting everything out on the ice. Hardly had I spoken when it pressed on again with renewed strength and thundered and crashed and, as Peter said, and laughed till he shook again, nearly sent both me and the spade to the deuce. I rushed back to the main-deck, on the way I met Mogstead who hurried up spade in hand and sent him back. Running forward under the tent towards the ladder I saw that the tent roof was bent down under the weight of the masses of ice which were rushing over it and crashing in over the rail and bulwarks to such an extent that I expected every moment to see the ice force its way through and block up the passage. When I got below I called all hands on deck but told them when going up not to go out through the door on the port side but through the chart room and out on the starboard side. In the first place all the bags were to be brought up from the saloon and then we were to take those lying on the deck. I was afraid that if the door on the port side was not kept closed the ice might, if it suddenly burst through the bulwarks and tent, rush over the deck and in through the door, fill the passage and rush down the ladder and thus imprison us like mice in a trap. True the passage up from the engine room had been cleared for this emergency but this was a very narrow hole to get through with heavy bags and no one could tell how long this hole would keep open when the ice once attacked us in earnest. I ran up again to set free the dogs which were shut up in castle garden and enclosure on the deck along the port bulwark. They quined and howled most dolefully under the tent as the snow masses threatened at any moment to crush it and bury them alive. I cut away the fastening with a knife, pulled the door open and outrushed most of them by the starboard gangway at full speed. Meantime the hands started bringing up the bags. It was quite unnecessary to ask them to hurry up. The ice did that, thundering against the ship's sides in a way that seemed irresistible. It was a fearful hurly-burly in the darkness, for to cap all the mate had in the hurry let the lanterns go out. I had to go down again to get something on my feet. My Finland shoes were hanging up to dry in the galley. When I got there the ice was at its worst and the heft deck beams were creaking overhead so that I really thought they were all coming down. The saloon and the berths were soon cleared of bags on the deck as well and we started taking them along the ice. The ice roared and crashed against the ship's side so that we could hardly hear ourselves speak but all went quickly and well and before long everything was in safety. While we were dragging the bags along the pressure and jamming of the ice head at last stopped and all was quiet again as before. But what a sight! The Fram's portside was quite buried under the snow. All that could be seen was the top of the tent projecting. Had the petroleum launch been hanging in the davits as it was a few hours previously it would hardly have escaped destruction. The davits were quite buried in ice and snow. It is curious that both fire and water have been powerless against that boat and it has now come out unscathed from the ice and lies there bottom upward on the floor. She has had a stormy existence and continual mishaps. I wonder what is next in store for her. It was I must admit a most exciting scene when it was at its worst and we thought it was imperative to get the bags up from the saloon with all possible speed. Grop now tells me that he was just about to have a bath and was as naked as when he was born when he heard me call all hands on deck. As this had not happened before he understood there was something serious the matter and he jumped into his clothes anyhow. Amundsen apparently also realized that something was amiss. He says he was the first to came up with his bag. He had not understood or had forgotten in the confusion the order about going out through the starboard door. He groped his way out on the port side and fell in the dark over the edge of the half-deck. Well, that did not matter, he said. He was quite used to that kind of thing, but having pulled himself together after the fall and as he was lying there on his back he dared not move for it seemed to him as if tent and all were coming down on him and it thundered and crashed against the gunnel and the hull as if the last hour had come. It finally dawned on him why he ought to have gone out on the starboard and not on the port side. All that could possibly be thought of to be of any use was taken out. The mate was seen dragging along a big bag of clothes with a heavy bundle of cups fastened outside it. Later he was stalking about with all sorts of things such as mittens, knives, cups, etc. fastened to his clothes and dangling about him so that the rattling noise could be heard afar off. He is himself to the last. In the evening the men all started eating their stock of cakes, sweet meats and such like, smoked tobacco and enjoyed themselves in the most animated fashion. They evidently thought it was uncertain when they should next have such time on board the from and therefore they thought it was best to avail themselves of the opportunity. We are now living in marching order on an empty ship. By way of precaution we have now burst open again the passage on the starboard side which was used as a library and had therefore been closed, and all doors are now kept always open so that we can be sure of getting out even if anything should give way. We do not want the ice pressure to close the doors against us by jamming the doorposts together, but she certainly is a strong ship. It is a mighty ridge that we have in our port side and the masses of ice are tremendous. The ship is listing more than ever, nearly seven degrees, but since the last pressure she has ridered herself a little again so that she must surely have broken away from the ice and begun to rise and all danger is doubtless over. So after all it has been a case of much adieu about nothing. Sunday January 6th, a quiet day, no jamming since last night. Most of the fellow slept well on into the morning. This afternoon all have been very busy digging the from out of the ice again, and we have now got the rail clear right aft to the half-deck. But a tremendous mass had fallen over the tent. It was above the second-rat line in the four shrouds and fully six feet over the rail. It is a marvel that the tent stood it, but it was a very good thing that it did so, for otherwise it is hard to say what might have become of many of the dogs. This afternoon Hansen took a meridian observation which gave eighty-three degrees thirty-four minutes north latitude, Hurrah! We are getting on well northward, thirteen minutes since Monday, and the most northern latitude is now reached. It goes without saying that the occasion was duly celebrated with a bowl of punch, preserved fruits, cakes, and the doctor's cigars. Last night we were running with the bags for our lives. Tonight we are drinking punch and feasting. Such are indeed the vicissitudes of fate. All this roaring and crashing for the last few days has been perhaps a cannonade to celebrate our reaching such a high latitude. If that be so, it must be admitted that the ice has done full honour to the occasion. Well, never mind, let it crash on so long as we only get northward. The from will no doubt stand it now. She has lifted fully one foot forward and fully six inches aft, and she has slept a little astern. Moreover, we cannot find so much as a single stanchion in the bulwarks that has started, yet tonight every man will sleep fully prepared to make for the ice. Monday, January 7. There was a little jamming of the ice occasionally during the day, but only of slight duration, then all was quiet again. Evidently, the ice has not yet settled and we have perhaps more to expect from our friend to port, whom I would willingly exchange for a better neighbour. It seems, however, as if the ice pressure had altered its direction since the wind has changed to southeast. It is now confined to the ridges for an aft athwart the wind, while our friend to port, lying almost in the line of the wind, has kept somewhat quieter. Everything has an end, as the boy said, when he was in for a birching. Perhaps the growth of this ridge has come to an end now. Perhaps not. The one thing is just as likely as the other. Today the work of extricating the from is proceeding. We will, at all events, get the rails clear of the ice. It presents a most imposing sight by the light of the moon, and however conscious of one's own strength, one cannot help respecting an antagonist who commands such powers and who in a few moments is capable of putting mighty machinery into action. It is rather an awkward battering ram to face. The from is equal to it, but no other ship could have resisted such an onslaught. In less than an hour this ice will build up a wall alongside this and over us, which it might take us a month to get out of and possibly longer than that. There is something gigantic about it. It is like a struggle between dwarfs and an ogre, in which the pygmies have to resort to cunning and trickery to get out of the clutches of one who seldom relaxes his grip. The from is the ship which the pygmies have built with all their cunning in order to fight the ogre, and on board this ship they work as busily as ants, while the ogre only thinks it worthwhile to roll over and twist his body about now and then. But every time he turns over it seems as though the nutshell would be smashed and buried and would disappear. But the pygmies have built their nutshell so cleverly that it always keeps afloat and wriggles itself free from the deadly embrace. The old traditions and legends about giants, about Thor's battles in the Jotunheim, when rocks were split and crags were hurled about and the valleys were filled with falling boulders, all come back to me when I look at these mighty ridges of ice winding their way far off in the moonlight. And when I see the men standing on the ice-heap cutting and digging to remove a fraction of it, then they seem to me smaller than the pygmies, smaller than ants. But although each ant carries only a single fur needle, yet in course of time they build an ant hill where they can live comfortably, sheltered from storm and winter. Had this attack on the frown been planned by the aid of all the wickedness in the world it could not have been a worse one. The flow seven feet thick has borne down on us on the portside, forcing itself up on the ice in which we are lying and crushing it down. Thus the frown was forced down with the ice while the other flow, packed up on the ice beneath, bore down on her and took her amidships while she was still frozen fast. As far as I can judge she could hardly have had a tighter squeeze. It was no wonder that she groaned under it, but she withstood it, broke loose, and eased. Who shall say after this that a vessel's shape is of little consequence? Had the frown not been designed as she was we should not have been sitting here now. Not a drop of water is to be found in her anywhere. Strangely enough the ice has not given us another such squeeze since then. Perhaps it was its expiring grip we felt on Saturday. It is hard to tell, but it was terrific enough. This morning Sverdrip and I went for a walk on the ice, but when we got a little away from the ship we found no sign of any new packing. The ice was smooth and unbroken as before. The packing has been limited to a certain stretch from east to west and the frown has been lying at the very worst point of it. This afternoon Hansen has worked out yesterday's observations, the result being 83 degrees, 34.2 minutes north latitude, and 102 degrees, 51 minutes east longitude. We have therefore drifted north and westward, 15 miles west indeed, and only 13.5 north since New Year's Eve, while the wind has been mostly from the southwest. It seems as if the ice has taken a more decided course towards the northwest than ever, and therefore it is not to be wandered at that there is some pressure when the wind blows a thwart the course of the ice. However, I hardly think we need any particular explanation of the pressure as we have evidently again got into a packing center with cracks, lanes, and ridges where the pressure is maintained for some time such as we were in during the first winter. We have constantly bet with several similar stretches on the surrounding ice even when it has been most quiet. This evening there was a most remarkable brightness right under the moon. It was like an immense luminous hiccoc which rose from the horizon and touched the great ring round the moon. At the upper side of this ring there was a segment of the usual inverted arc of light. The next day, January 8th, the ice began grinding occasionally, and while Mogstead and I stood in the hold working on hand sledges, we heard creakings in the ship both above and below us. This was repeated several times, but in the intervals it was quiet. I was often on the ice listening to the grinding and watching how it went on, but it did not go beyond crackling and creaking beneath our feet and in the ridge at our side. Perhaps it is to warn us not to be too confident. I am not so sure that it is not necessary. It is, in reality, like living on a smoking volcano. The eruption that will seal our fate may occur at any moment. It will either force the ship up or swallow her down, and what are the stakes? Either the Fram will get home and the expedition be fully successful, or we shall lose her and have to be content with what we have done and possibly on our way home we may explore parts of Franz Josefland. That is all, but most of us feel that it would be hard to lose the ship and it would be a very sad sight to see her disappear. Some of the hands under Sferdrup are working, trying to cut away the hammock ice on the port side and they have already made good headway. Mogstead and I are busy getting the sledges in order and preparing them for use as I want them whether we go north or south. Liv is two years old today. She is a big girl now. I wonder if I should be able to recognize her. I suppose I should hardly find a single familiar feature. They are sure to celebrate the day and she will get all kinds of presents. Many a thought will be sent northward, but they know not where to look for us. Are not aware that we are drifting here embedded in the ice in the highest northern latitudes ever reached in the deepest polar night ever penetrated. During the following days the ice became steadily quieter. In the course of the night of the 9th of January the ice was still slightly cracking and grinding. Then it quite subsided and on the 10th of January the report is, ice perfectly quiet and if it were not for the ridge on the port side one would never have thought there had ever been any breach in the eternal stillness so calm and peaceful is it. Some men went on cutting away the ice and little by little we could see it was getting less. Mogstead and I were busily engaged in the hold with the new sledges and during this time I also made an attempt to photograph the from by moonlight from different points. The results surpassed my expectations, but as the top of the pressure ridge had now been cut away these photos do not give an exact impression of the pack ice and of how it came hurling down upon the from. We then put in order our depot on the great hummock on the starboard quarter and all sleeping bags, lapland boots, fin shoes, wolfskin clothing, etc., were wrapped in the foresail and placed to the extreme west. The provisions were collected into six different heaps and the rifles and guns were distributed among three of the heaps and wrapped up in boat sails. Next Hansen's instrument case and my own, together with a bucketful of rifle cartridges, were placed under a boat sail. Then the forge and the smith's tools were arranged separately and up on the top of the great hummock we laid a heap of sledges and snowshoes. All the kayaks were laid side by side, bottom upward, the cooking apparatus and lamps, etc., being placed under them. They were spread out in this way so that in the improbable event of the thick flow splitting suddenly our loss would not be so great. We knew where to find everything and it might blow and drift to its heart's content without our losing anything. On the evening of January 14th I wrote in my diary, two sharp reports were heard in the ship, like shots from a cannon, and then followed a noise as of something splitting, presumably this must be the cracking of the ice on account of the frost. It appeared to me that the list on the ship increased at that moment, but perhaps it was only imagination. As time passed on we all gradually got busy again preparing for the sledge expedition. On Tuesday January 15th I say, this evening the doctor gave a lesson to Johansson and myself in bandaging and repairing broken limbs. I lay on the table and had a plaster of Paris bandage put round the calf of my leg while all the crew were looking on. The very sight of this operation cannot fail to suggest unpleasant thoughts. An accident of this nature out in the polar night, with forty degrees to fifty degrees of cold, would be anything but pleasant to say nothing of how easily it might mean death to both of us. But who knows, we might manage somehow, however such things must not be allowed to happen and what is more, they shall not. As January went on we could by noon just see the faint dawn of day, that day at whose sunrise we were to start. On January 18th I say, by nine o'clock in the morning I could already distinguish the first indications of dawn, and by noon it seemed to be getting bright. But it seems hardly credible that in a month's time there will be light enough to travel by, yet it must be so. True February is a month which all experienced people consider far too early and much too cold for traveling. Hardly anyone would do so in the month of March. But it cannot be helped. We have no time to waste in waiting for additional comfort if we are to make any progress before the summer when traveling will be impossible. I am not afraid of the cold. We can always protect ourselves against that. Meantime all preparations are proceeding and I am now getting everything in order, connected with copying of diaries, observation books, photographs, et cetera, that we are to take with us. Mogstead is working in the hold making maple guard runners to put under the sledges. Jacobson has commenced to put a new sledge together. Pedersen is in the engine room making nails for the sledge fittings which Mogstead is to put on. In the meantime some of the others have built a large forge out on the ice with blocks of ice and snow, and tomorrow a spheredrip and I will heat and bend the runners in tar and steering at such a heat as we can produce in the forge. We trust we shall be able to get a sufficient temperature to do this important work thoroughly in spite of the 40 degrees of frost. Amundsen is now repairing the mill as there is something wrong with it again, the cog-wheels being worn. He thinks he will be able to get it all right again. Rather chilly work to be lying up there in the wind on the top of the mill, boring in the hard steel and cast iron by lantern light, and at such a temperature as we are having now. I stood and watched the lantern light up there today, and I soon heard the drill working. One could tell the steel was hard, then I could hear clapping of hands. Ah, thought I, you may well clap your hands together, it is not a particularly warm job to be lying up there in the wind. The worst of it is one cannot wear mittens for such work, but has to use the bare hands if one is to make any progress, and it would not take long to freeze them off, but it has to be done, he says, and he will not give in. He is a splendid fellow in all he undertakes, and I console him by saying that there are not many before him who have worked on the top of a mill in such frost north of eighty-three degrees. On many expeditions they have avoided out-of-door work when the temperature got so low. Indeed, he says, I thought that other expeditions were in advance of us in that respect. I imagined we had kept indoors too much. I had no hesitation in enlightening him on this point. I know he will do his best in any case. This is indeed a strange time for me. I feel as if I were preparing for a summer trip and the spring were already here. Yet it is still midwinter, and the conditions of the summer trip may be somewhat ambiguous. The ice keeps quiet. The cracking in it and in the from is due only to the cold. I have, during the last few days, again read Payer's account of his sledge expedition northward through Austria Sound. It is not very encouraging. The very land he describes as the realm of death, where he thinks he and his companions would inevitably have perished had they not recovered the vessel, is the place to which we look for salvation, that is, the region we hope to reach when our provisions have come to an end. It may seem reckless, but nevertheless I cannot imagine that it is so. I cannot help believing that a land which even in April teams with bears, ox, and black guillomots, and whose seals are basking on the ice, must be a canine flowing with milk and honey for two men who have good rifles and good eyes. It must surely yield food enough not only for the needs of the moment, but also provisions for the journey onward to Spitzbergen. Sometimes, however, the thought will prevent itself that it may be very difficult to get the food when it is most sorely needed, but these are only passing moments. We must remember Carlisle's words, a man shall and must be valiant, he must march forward and quit himself like a man, trusting imperturbably in the appointment and choice of the upper powers. I have not, it is true, any upper powers. It would probably be well to have them in such a case, but we nevertheless are starting and the time approaches rapidly. Four weeks or little more soon pass by and then farewell to this snug nest, which has been our home for eighteen months, and we go out into the darkness and cold, out into the still more unknown. Out yonder, tis dark, but onward we must over the dewy wet mountains ride through the land of the ice-troll. We shall both be saved, or the ice-troll's hand shall clutch us both. On January twenty-third I write, the dawn has grown so much that there was a visible light from it on the ice, and for the first time this year I saw the crimson glow of the sun low down in the dawn. We now took soundings with the lead before I was to leave the vessel. We found one thousand eight hundred seventy-six fathoms, three thousand four hundred fifty metres. I then made some snowshoes down in the hold. It was important to have them smooth, tough, and light, on which one could make good headway. They shall be well rubbed with tar, steering, and tallow, and there shall be speed in them. Then it is only a question of using one's legs, and I have no doubt that can be managed. Next day January twenty-ninth. Latitude yesterday eighty-three degrees thirty minutes. Some days ago we had been so far north as eighty-three degrees forty minutes, but had again drifted southward. The light keeps on steadily increasing, and by noon it almost seems to be broad daylight. I believe I could read the title of a book out in the open if the print were large and clear. I take a stroll every morning, greeting the dawning day, before I go down into the hold to my work at the snowshoes and equipment. My mind is filled with a peculiar sensation which I cannot clearly define. There is certainly an exalting feeling of triumph deep in the soul, a feeling that all one's dreams are about to be realised with the rising sun which steers northward across the ice-bound waters. But while I am busy in these familiar surroundings a wave of sadness sometimes comes over me. It is like bidding farewell to a dear friend and to a home which has long afforded me a sheltering roof. At one blow all this and my dear comrades are to be left behind forever. Never again shall I tread this snow-clad deck, never again creep under this tent, never hear the laughter ring in this familiar saloon, never again sit in this friendly circle. And then I remember that when the from at last bursts from her bonds of ice and turns her prow towards Norway I shall not be with her. A farewell imparts to everything in life its own tinge of sadness like the crimson rays of the sun when the day, good or bad, sinks in tears below the horizon. Hundreds of times my eye wanders to the map hanging there on the wall and each time a chill creeps over me. The distance before us seems so long and the obstacles in our path may be many, but then again the feeling comes that we are bound to pull through. It cannot be otherwise. Everything is too carefully prepared to fail now. And meanwhile the southeast wind is whistling above us and we are continually drifting northward near our goal. When I go up on deck and step out into the night with its glittering starry vault and the flaring aurora borealis then all these thoughts recede and I must as ever pause on the threshold of this sanctuary, this dark, deep, silent space, this infinite temple of nature in which the soul seeks to find its origin. Toiling ant, what matters it whether you reach your goal with your fur needle or not? Everything disappears, nonetheless, in the ocean of eternity, in the great nirvana, and as time rolls on our names are forgotten, our deeds pass into oblivion and our lives flit by like the traces of a cloud and vanish like the mist dispelled by the warm rays of the sun. Our time is but a fleeting shadow hurrying us on to the end, so it is ordained and having reached that end none ever retraces his steps. Two of us will soon be journeying farther through this immense waste into greater solitudes and deeper stillness. Wednesday, January 30th. Today the great event has happened that the windmill is again at work for the first time after its long rest. In spite of the cold and the darkness, Amundsen had got the cog-wheels into order, and now it is running as smoothly and steadily as Gada Purcha. We have now constant northeast winds, and we again bore northward. On Sunday, February 3rd, we were at 83 degrees, 43 minutes. The time for our departure approached, and the preparations were carried on with great activity. The sledges were completed, and I tried them under various conditions. I have alluded to the fact that we made maple guards to put under the fixed nickel-plated runners. The idea of this was to strengthen both the sledges and the runners, so that they would at the beginning of the journey, when the loads were heavy, be less liable to breakage from the jolting to which they would probably be exposed. Later on, when the load got lighter, we might, if we thought fit, easily remove them. These guards were also to serve another purpose. I had an idea that in view of the low temperature we had during the winter, and on the dry drift snow which then covered the ice-flows, metal would glide less easily than smooth wood, especially if the ladder were well rubbed with rich tar and steering. By February 8th, one of the sledges with wooden guard-runners was finished, so that we could make experiments in this direction, and we then found that it was considerably easier to haul than a similar sledge running on the nickel-plate, though the load of each was exactly the same. The difference was so great that we found that it was at least half as hard again to draw a sledge on the nickel-runners as on the tarred maple-runners. Our new ash sledges were now nearly finished and weighed thirty pounds without the guard-runners. Everybody is hard at work. Sphere-drop is sowing bags or bolsters to put on the sledges as beds for the kayaks to rest on. To this end the bags are to be made up to fit the bottoms of the boats. New Hanson with one or two other men are stuffing the bags with pemicun, which has to be warmed, beaten, and needed in order to give it the right form for making a good bed for our precious boats. When these square, flat bags are carried out into the cold they freeze as hard as stone and keep their form well. Blessing is sitting up in the work-room copying the photographs of which I have no prints. Hanson is working out a map of our roots so far, and copying out his observations for us, et cetera, et cetera. In short, there is hardly a man on board who does not feel that the moment for departure approaches. Perhaps the galley is the only place where everything goes on in the usual way under the management of Lars. Our position yesterday was 83 degrees, 32.1 minutes north latitude, and 102 degrees, 28 minutes east longitude, so we are southward again. But never mind what do a couple of miles more or less matter to us. Sunday, February 10th. Today there was so much daylight that at one o'clock I could fairly well read the Verden's gong when I held the paper up towards the light, but when I held it towards the moon, which was low in the north, it was no go. Before dinner I went for a short drive with Gulen and Susina, two of the young dogs, and Caiaphas. Gulen had never been in harness before, but yet she went quite well. She was certainly a little awkward at first, but that soon disappeared, and I think she will make a good dog when she is well trained. Susina, who was driven a little last autumn, conducted herself quite like an old sledge dog. The surface is hard and easy for the dogs to haul on. They get a good foothold, and the snow is not particularly sharp for their feet. However, it is not over-smooth. This drift snow makes heavy going. The ice is smooth and easy to run on, and I trust we shall be able to make good day journeys. After all, we shall reach our destination sooner than we had expected. I cannot deny that it is a long journey, and scarcely anyone has ever more effectually burned his boats behind him. If we wish to turn back, we have absolutely nothing to return to, not even a bare coast. It will be impossible to find the ship, and before us lies the great unknown. But there is only one road, and that lies straight ahead, right through, be it land or sea, be it smooth or rough, be it mere ice or ice and water. And I cannot but believe that we must get through, even if we should meet with the worst, that is land and peck ice. Wednesday, February 13th. The Pemmican bolsters and dried liver pie are now ready. The kayaks will get an excellent betting, and I venture to say that such meat bolsters are an absolute novelty. Under each kayak there are three of them. They are made to fit the sledge, and as already stated, are molded to the shape of the kayak. They weigh 100 to 120 pounds each. The empty sacks weigh two or three pounds each, so that altogether the meat, Pemmican and liver pie, in these three bags, will weigh about 320 pounds. We each had our light sleeping bags of reindeer skin, and we tried to sleep out in them last night. But both Johansson and I found it rather cold, although it was only 37 degrees Fahrenheit to frost. We were perhaps too lightly clad under the wolf skin clothing. We are making another experiment with a little moron tonight. Saturday, February 16th. The outfitting is still progressing, but there are various small things yet to do which take time, and I do not know whether we shall be ready to start on Wednesday, February 20th, as I originally intended. The day is now so light that so far as that is concerned, we might quite well start then, but perhaps we had better wait a day or two longer. Three sledge sails for single sledges are now finished. They are made of very light calico, and are about seven feet, two inches broad, by four feet, four inches long. They are made so the two of them may be laced together and used as one sail for double sledge, and I believe they will act well. They weigh a little over one pound each. Moreover, we have now most of the provisions ready stowed away in bags. End of file three.