Arctic exploration

A careful study of the history of Arctic travel had convinced Nansen that the routes by which most of his predecessors had attempted to reach the North Pole were either impracticable or else beset by such difficulties that he who could overcome them would be fortunate indeed. Vessels attempting to penetrate far to the north had always been stopped by an impenetrable barrier of ice. Travellers trying to make the journey by sledge had found the ice so rough and the movements of the pack so disconcerting, that they had been invariably compelled to turn back before they were very far on their way, while, so far as has yet been discovered, there is no land in a sufficiently northerly latitude to form a suitable base.

The experiences of the Jeannette, however, turned his thoughts in another direction. It will be remembered that that ill-fated vessel was caught in the ice near Wrangel Land and drifted thence to New Siberia, where she went down. Three years later there was found, frozen into the drift-ice in the neighbourhood of Julianshaab, on the south-west coast of Greenland, a number of articles which had obviously come from the sunken vessel. These articles were first discovered by the Eskimos, and were afterwards collected by Mr Lytzen, colonial manager at Julianshaab, among them being a list of provisions signed by De Long, a pair of sealskin breeches marked with the name of Louis Noros, one of the Jeannette’s crew, the peak of a cap belonging to Nindemann, another of the sailors, and a manuscript list of the ship’s boats.

Professor Mohn, in a lecture delivered before the scientific society of Christiania, showed that these articles must have drifted across the Pole, a theory which was supported by the fact that Siberian larches had often been found on the east coast of Greenland; and Nansen came to the conclusion that where they could drift he could drift too. His proposal to put his theory to the test was greeted with a hurricane of disapproval, especially as it involved the abandonment of the well-known Arctic canon never to leave the shore. He was told that human hands could not construct a ship which could withstand the enormous pressure of the winter ice, and that he was simply throwing away the lives of himself and of those who accompanied him. Nansen, however, thought otherwise, and in October 1892 a specially-built vessel was launched at the mouth of the Christiania Fiord, and was christened by Mrs Nansen the Fram—anglice, “Forward.”

The sides of the Fram were thirty inches thick, and strengthened with stanchions at points where the pressure was expected to be greatest, while her hull was specially shaped in the hope that she would rise when squeezed by the ice. She was only 128 feet long, but very broad of beam. Her speed, under steam and sail, was expected to be eight or nine knots an hour in very favourable circumstances; under steam alone she was not expected to average more than three knots, but speed was not, of course, a primary consideration. Her crew consisted of thirteen, and included Captain Sverdrup, Lieutenant Johansen, who was destined to accompany Nansen on his perilous journey over the ice, and Lieutenant Scott-Hansen, who was chiefly responsible for the scientific observations.

The Fram set sail from Christiania on June 24, 1893, and was soon making her way along the north coast of Europe. On August 4 she entered the dreaded Kara Sea, but it was not until the end of the month, when off Taimur Island, that she met with her first serious opposition from ice. Here Nansen discovered a new group of islands, and at one time he thought that he would be obliged to make their closer acquaintance by wintering off them. Fortunately, however, a storm broke up the ice on September 6, and he was able to proceed on his way past Cape Chelyuskin. He had intended to call at Olenek for dogs, but the summer was so far advanced that he did not dare to linger on the way, so he pushed north past New Siberia and entered the pack at lat. 78° 50´ on September 29.

As soon as the ice had really gripped the vessel and there was no further prospect of release, preparations for the winter were set on foot. The rudder was shipped, the hold was cleared out to make room for a joiner’s shop, the engine was taken to pieces and a mechanical workshop set up in its room, a smithy was erected, tinsmith’s work was done in the chart-room, and shoemaker’s and sailmaker’s work in the saloon. “There was nothing,” says Nansen, “from the most delicate instruments down to wooden shoes and axe handles that could not be made on the Fram. When we were found to be short of sounding line, a grand rope-walk was constructed on the ice.... There was always something to occupy us, and it was not difficult to find work for each man that gave him sufficient exercise and so much distraction that the time did not seem to him unbearably long.”

It is not to be supposed, however, that Nansen did not suffer occasionally from ennui; and this was especially the case when the Fram, to his disgust, was drifted steadily south-west, for several weeks. Presently, however, she started once more on her northward journey, and from that time onward her course gave her crew little cause for dissatisfaction, though she did not approach the Pole quite so nearly as had been hoped; the ship, moreover, behaved herself splendidly in the ice and resisted the most serious pressures. Contrary to the opinion of many experts, who had held that, frozen into the pack as she would be, she could not possibly rise from her bed and thrust the oncoming ice beneath her, she would sometimes be raised so high above the surface that her bottom was almost visible.

Though Nansen saw from the Fram’s drift that she would follow very nearly the course he had anticipated, he thought that still more might be accomplished, and that the sea which lay beyond the ship’s route could be more thoroughly examined if he and a companion left her with dogs and sledges. Such an expedition could not, of course, hope to find the vessel again, as she would be constantly changing her whereabouts, and it would be like looking for a needle in a bottle of hay. The prospect of being obliged to find his own way home to civilised regions did not, however, deter the explorer, and, leaving Sverdrup in command, he started off on March 14, 1895, accompanied by Johansen, with twenty-eight dogs, three sledges, two kayacks, thirty days’ food for their dogs, and a hundred days’ rations for themselves.

The venture was rash almost to the verge of madness, but Nansen and Johansen entered upon it with such spirit and pluck that they succeeded in carrying it through successfully, though not without suffering fearful hardships. High-piled ridges of ice, on the slopes and summits of which the snow never had time to collect, were constantly forming in their path, and over these the men had to drag the sledges while the dogs, who did not care for that kind of amusement, sat down and looked on. To their great disappointment, too, the ice grew worse and worse as they journeyed north, till at last, on April 7, Nansen climbed to the top of the highest point that he could find, and saw nothing but packed, piled-up ice right on to the horizon, looking, as he says, “like a rough sea that had been petrified.” Such being the case, he came to the conclusion that it would be folly to continue the struggle, so, having reached lat. 86° 14´ N., the farthest point attained up till then, he and Johansen determined to turn south and make for Franz Joseph Land.

Soon after they had started on the return journey they came upon better ice and progressed rather more rapidly. Unfortunately, however, in their anxiety to push on, they occasionally made inordinately long marches, with the result that, when they halted for the night on April 12, more than thirty-six hours had elapsed since they last pitched their tents, and their watches had run down. They were able to make a reasonably good guess at the time, but from that day onward they were never able to obtain their longitude with any certainty.

The inaccuracy of Payer’s map, too, gave them a great deal of worry. Naturally believing in the existence of Petermann’s Land, they expected to sight it towards the end of April. May passed, however, and then the beginning of June, and still no land came in sight. By the 22nd of the month travelling had become so arduous that, having shot three bears and a seal, thus relieving themselves of all fear of starvation, they determined to wait till the warmer weather had melted the snow. It was not until July 22 that they started once more on their way, and two days later their eyes were gladdened with the sight of land. To reach it, however, was no easy matter, for the ice was broken up by numberless channels which were covered so thickly with crushed floe that it was impossible for them to use their kayacks. Accordingly they were obliged to jump from one piece of ice to another, dragging the sledges after them—a most hazardous proceeding which often nearly resulted in disaster.

It was while they were preparing to negotiate an open lead that an incident happened which almost cost Johansen his life. Nansen was busy with his kayack, which he was holding with one hand to prevent it from slipping into the water, when he heard a scuffle behind him, and Johansen’s voice cried out, “Take the gun!”

Looking round, he saw that an enormous bear was throwing itself on his companion, who was lying on his back. He tried to seize his gun, which was lying on the fore-deck, but the kayack slipped out of his grasp into the water. “You must look sharp if you want to be in time,” said Johansen quite quietly, and Nansen, making a supreme effort, just managed to clutch his gun and shoot the bear before it was on its prey.

After immense labour they succeeded in reaching Frederic Jackson Island, and here they decided to spend the winter, as they realised that it was too late in the season for them to attempt the long and dangerous voyage to Spitzbergen. Accordingly they set about building a hut and shooting walruses and bears, of which they found such an abundance that they had soon placed themselves beyond the possibility of starvation. The hut was small, but it was fairly comfortable. “By the aid of the lamps,” says Nansen, “we succeeded in keeping the temperature at about freezing-point in the middle of the hut, while it was, of course, lower at the walls. The latter were covered with a thick coating of frost and ice, which in the lamplight gave them such a splendidly marmoreal appearance that in our happier moments we could dream that we dwelt in marble halls.”

They had nothing whatever to do, so for twenty hours out of the twenty-four they remained in bed, which, consisting as it did of huge, hard stones, was not particularly comfortable. Christmas Day they celebrated by turning their shirts inside out. Their clothes, by the way, were always a source of worry, for washing was a problem which they were quite unable to solve. They succeeded in keeping their persons fairly clean, partly by scraping themselves with knives and partly by rubbing in bear’s fat and wiping it off with moss; but though they tried the effect of boiling their underclothing and then scraping it with a knife, the plan did not answer very well, and they pined for a cake of soap.

On May 19 they started off once more, and managed to make fairly good progress either on the ice or in open water. They had one or two accidents, one of which might have resulted disastrously, for the kayack which had their provisions and guns on board started off on a voyage on its own account, leaving them on shore. Nansen was obliged to swim after it, and became so exhausted in the struggle with the bitter water that he was only just able to reach it and scramble over the gunwale. Their troubles, however, were now at an end, for, when preparing breakfast one morning, Nansen heard dogs barking. At first he could hardly believe his ears, but the sound came nearer and nearer till at last there could be no doubt about it. Rushing off on his skis to learn the solution of the mystery, he met F. G. Jackson, from whom he received the warmest welcome. As, however, we have described the meeting in the chapter devoted to the Jackson expedition, we need not dwell on it again here.

In the meanwhile the Fram drifted steadily on with the ice, reaching, on October 16, almost as high a latitude as that attained by Nansen. She pursued her journey to the edge of the pack without misadventure, and after a series of blasting operations she was set free of the ice and made her way home in safety.