“To judge by the sky, there must be a number of lanes in the south and southwest. Perhaps our trying mode of advance is leading us to something better. We began at about ten yesterday evening, and stopped at six this morning. We have not had dinner the last few days, in order to save a meal, as we do not think this ice and our progress generally are worth much food. With the same object, we this morning collected the blood of ‘Storræven’ and converted it into a sort of porridge instead of the ‘fiskegratin.’ It was good, even if it was only dog’s blood, and at any rate we have a portion of fish flour to the good. Before we turned into the bag last night we inspected our cartridges, and found, to our joy, that we had 148 shot-gun cartridges, 181 rifle cartridges, and in addition 14 spherical-shot cartridges. With so much ammunition, we should be able to increase our provisions for some time to come, if necessary; for if nothing else should fall to our guns there would always be birds, and 148 birds will go a long way. If we use half-charges we can eke out our ammunition still further. We have, moreover, half a pound of gunpowder and some spherical shot for the rifles, also caps for reloading the cartridges. This discovery has put me in good spirits, for, truth to tell, I did not think our prospects were inordinately bright. We shall now, perhaps, be able to manage for three months, and within that time something must happen. In addition to what we can shoot, we can also catch gulls with a hook, and if the worst should come to the worst, and we set seriously to work, we can probably take some animalcula and the like with the net. It may happen that we shall not get to Spitzbergen in time to find a vessel, and must winter there, but it will be a life of luxury compared with this in the drift-ice, not knowing where we are nor whither drifting, and not seeing our goal, be it never so far away. I should not like to have this time over again. We have paid dearly for letting our watches run down that time. If there was no one waiting at home, a winter in Spitzbergen would be quite enticing. I lie here and dream of how comfortably and well we could manage there. Everything outside of this ice seems rosy, and out of it we shall be some time or other. We must comfort ourselves with the adage that night is darkest before the dawn. Of course it somewhat depends on how dark the night is to be, and considerably darker than it is now it might very well be. But our hopes are fixed on the summer. Yes, it must be better as summer gradually comes on.”

So on we went forward; and day after day we were going through exactly the same toil, in the same heavy snow, in which the sledges stuck fast ceaselessly. Dogs and men did their best, but with little effect, and in addition we began to be uneasy as to our means of subsistence. The dogs’ rations were reduced to a minimum, to enable us to keep life going as long as possible. We were hungry and toil-worn from morning to night and from night to morning, all five of us. We determined to shoot whatever came in our way, even gulls and fulmars; but now, of course, none of this game ever came within range.

The lanes grew worse and worse, filled generally with slush and brash. We were often compelled to go long distances over nothing but small pieces, where one went through continually. On June 18th “a strong wind from the west (magnetic) sprang up, which tears and rattles at the tent. We are going back, I suppose, whence we came, only farther north perhaps. So we are buffeted by wind and current, and so it will go on, perhaps, the whole summer through, without our being able to master it.” A meridian altitude that day made us in 82° 19′ N., so we had come down again a little. I saw and shot a couple of fulmars and a Brünnich’s guillemot (Uria brünnichii), and these eked out our rations; but, to our distress, I fired at a couple of seals in the lanes and missed my mark. How we wished we could get hold of such a prize! “Meanwhile there is a good deal of life here now,” I write on June 20th. “Little auks fly backward and forward in numbers, and they sit and chatter and show themselves just outside the tent door; it is quite a pleasure to see them, but a pity they are so small that they are not worth a shot. We have not seen them in flocks yet, but in couples, as a rule. It is remarkable how bird-life has increased since the west wind set in the day before yesterday. It is particularly striking how the little auks have suddenly appeared in myriads; they whiz past the tent here with their cheery twitter, and it gives one the feeling of having come down to more hospitable regions. This sudden finding of Brünnich’s guillemots seems also curious, but it does no good. Land is not to be descried, and the snow is in as wretched a condition as it can be. A proper thaw, so that the snow can disappear more quickly, does not come. Yesterday morning before breakfast I went for a walk southward to see what were our chances of advance. The ice was flat and good for a little way, but lanes soon began which were worse than ever. Our only expedient now is to resort to strong measures and launch the kayaks, in spite of the fact that they leak; we must then travel as much as possible by way of the lanes, and with this resolution I turn back. The snow is still the same, very wet, so that one sank deep in between the hummocks, and there are plenty of them. We could not afford a proper breakfast, so we took 1⅔ ounces bread and 1⅔ ounces pemmican per man, and then set to work to mend the pumps and put the kayaks in order for ferrying, so that their contents should not be spoiled by water leaking in. Among other things, a hole had to be patched in mine, which I had not seen before.

“We had a frugal supper—2 ounces aleuronate bread and 1 ounce butter per man—and crept into the bag to sleep as long as possible and kill the time without eating. The only thing to be done is to try and hold out till the snow has melted and advance is more practicable. At one in the afternoon we turned out to a rather more abundant breakfast of ‘fiskegratin,’ but we do not dare to eat as much as we require any longer. We are looking forward to trying our new tactics, and instead of attempting to conquer nature, obeying her and taking advantage of the lanes. We must get some way, at any rate, by this means; and the farther south the more prospect of lanes and the greater chance of something falling to our guns.

“Otherwise it is a dull existence enough, no prospect for the moment of being able to get on, impassable packed ice in every direction, rapidly diminishing provisions, and now, too, nothing to be caught or shot. An attempt I made at fishing with the net failed entirely—a pteropod (Clio borealis) and a few crustacea were the whole result. I lie awake at night by the hour racking my brain to find a way out of our difficulties. Well, well, there will be one eventually!

“Saturday, June 22d. Half-past 9 A.M.; after a good breakfast of seal’s-flesh, seal-liver, blubber, and soup, here I lie dreaming dreams of brightness; life is all sunshine again. What a little incident is necessary to change the whole aspect of affairs! Yesterday and the last few days were dull and gloomy; everything seemed hopeless, the ice impassable, no game to be found; and then comes the incident of a seal rising near our kayaks and rolling about round us. Johansen has time to give it a ball just as it is disappearing, and it floats while I harpoon it—the first and only bearded seal (Phoca barbata) we have seen yet—and we have abundance of food and fuel for upward of a month. We need hurry no longer; we can settle down, adapt the kayaks and sledges better for ferrying over the lanes, capture seals if possible, and await a change in the state of the ice. We have eaten our fill both at supper and breakfast, after being ravenous for many days. The future seems bright and certain now; no clouds of darkness to be seen any longer.

“It was hardly with great expectations that we started off on Tuesday evening. A hard crust which had formed on the top of the soft snow did not improve matters; the sledges often cut through this, and were not to be moved before one lifted them forward again, and when it was a case of turning amid the uneven ice they stuck fast in the crust. The ice was uneven and bad, and the snow loose and water-soaked, so that, even with snow-shoes on, we sank deep into it ourselves. There were lanes besides, and though tolerably easy to cross, as they were often packed together, they necessitated a winding route. We saw clearly that to continue in this way was impossible. The only resource was to disburden ourselves of everything which could in any way be dispensed with, and start afresh as quickly as we could, with only provisions, kayaks, guns, and the most necessary clothing, in order, at any rate, to reach land before our last crumb of food was eaten up. We went over the things to see what we could part with; the medicine-bag, the spare horizontal bars belonging to the sledges, reserve snow-shoes and thick, rough socks, soiled shirts, and the tent. When it came to the sleeping-bag we drew a long sigh, but, wet and heavy as it always is now, that had to go too. We had, moreover, to contrive wooden grips under the kayaks, so that we can without further trouble set the whole thing afloat when we have to cross a lane and be able to drag the sledges up on the other side and go on at once. If it should then, as now, be impossible for us to launch the sledges, because sleeping-bag, clothes, and sacks of provender, etc., are lying on them as a soft dunnage for the kayaks, it will take too much time. At every lane we should be obliged to unlash the loads, lift the kayaks off the sledges and into the water, lash them together there, then place the sledges across them, and finally go through the same manœuvres in inverse order on the other side. We should not get very far in the day in that manner.

“Firmly determined to make these alterations, the very next day we started off. We soon came to a long pool, which it was necessary to ferry over. The kayaks were soon launched and lying side by side on the water, well stiffened, with the snow-shoes under the straps,9 a thoroughly steady fleet. Then the sledges, with their loads, were run out to them, one forward, one astern. We had been concerned about the dogs and how we should get them to go with us, but they followed the sledges out on to the kayaks and lay down as if they had done nothing else all their lives. ‘Kaifas’ seated himself in the bow of my kayak, and the two others astern.

“A seal had come up near us while we were occupied with all this, but I thought to wait before shooting it till the kayaks were ready, and thus be certain of getting it before it sank. Of course it did not show itself again. These seals seem to be enchanted, and as if they were only sent to delay us. Twice that day before I had seen them and watched for them to appear again in vain. I had even achieved missing one—the third time I have missed my mark. It looks bad for the ammunition if I am going on like this, but I have discovered that I aimed too high for these short ranges, and had shot over them. So then we set off across the blue waves on our first long voyage. A highly remarkable convoy we must have been, laden as we were with sledges, sacks, guns, and dogs; a tribe of gypsies, Johansen said it was. If any one had suddenly come upon us then, he would hardly have known what to make of the troupe, and certainly would not have taken us for polar explorers. Paddling between the sledges and the snow-shoes, which projected far out on either side, was not easy work; but we managed to get along, and were soon of the opinion that we should think ourselves lucky could we go on like this the whole day, instead of hauling and wading through the snow. Our kayaks could hardly have been called water-tight, and we had recourse to the pumps several times; but we could easily have reconciled ourselves to that, and only wished we had more open water to travel over. At last we reached the end of the pool; I jumped ashore on the edge of the ice, to pull up the kayaks, and suddenly heard a great splash beside us. It was a seal which had been lying there. Soon afterwards I heard a similar splash on the other side, and then for the third time a huge head appeared, blowing and swimming backward and forward, but, alas! only to dive deep under the edge of the ice before we had time to get the guns out. It was a fine, large blue or bearded seal (Phoca barbata).

“We were quite sure that it had disappeared for good, but no sooner had I got one of the sledges half-way up the side than the immense head came up again close beside the kayaks, blowing and repeating the same manœuvres as before. I looked round for my gun, but could not reach it where it was lying on the kayak. ‘Take the gun, Johansen, quick, and blaze away; but quick! look sharp, quick!’ In a moment he had thrown the gun to his cheek, and just as the seal was on the point of disappearing under the edge I heard the report. The animal made a little turn, and then lay floating, the blood flowing from its head. I dropped the sledge, seized the harpoon, and, quick as lightning, threw it deep into the fat back of the seal, which lay quivering on the surface of the water. Then it began to move; there was still life in it; and, anxious lest the harpoon with its thin line should not hold if the huge animal began to quicken in earnest, I pulled my knife out of its sheath and stuck it into the seal’s throat, whence a stream of blood came flowing out. The water was red with it for a long distance, and it made one quite sorry to see the wherewithal for a good meal being wasted like this. But there was nothing to be done; not on any account would I lose that animal, and for the sake of safety gave it another harpoon. Meanwhile the sledge, which had been half dragged up on to the ice, slid down again, and the kayaks, with Johansen and the dogs, came adrift. He tried to pull the sledge up on to the kayak, but without success, and so it remained with one end in the water and one on the canoe. It heeled the whole fleet over, and Johansen’s kayak canted till one side was in the water; it leaked, moreover, like a sieve, and the water rose in it with alarming rapidity. The cooker, which was on the deck, fell off, and drifted gayly away before the wind with all its valuable contents, borne high up in the water by the aluminium cap, which happily was watertight. The ‘ski’ fell off and floated about, and the fleet sank deeper and deeper in. Meanwhile I stood holding our precious prize, not daring to let go. The whole thing was a scene of the most complete dissolution. Johansen’s kayak had by this time heeled over to such an extent that the water reached the open seam on the deck, and the craft filled immediately. I had no choice left but to let go the seal and drag up the kayak before it sank. This done, heavy as it was and full of water, the seal’s turn came next, and this was much worse. We had our work cut out to haul the immense animal hand over hand up on to the ice; but our rejoicings were loud when we at last succeeded, and we almost fell to dancing round it in the excess of our delight. A water-logged kayak and soaked effects we thought nothing of at such a supreme moment. Here were food and fuel for a long time.

“Then came the rescuing and drying of our things. First and foremost, of course, the ammunition; it was all our stock. But happily the cartridges were fairly water-tight, and had not suffered much damage. Even the shot cartridges, the cases of which were of paper, had not lain long enough to become wholly permeated. Such, however, was not the case with a supply of powder; the small tin box in which we kept it was entirely full of water. The other things were not so important, though it was hardly a comforting discovery to find that the bread was soaked through with salt-water.

“We found a camping-ground not far off. The tent was soon pitched, our catch cut up and placed in safety, and, I may say, seldom has the drift-ice housed beings so well satisfied as the two who sat that morning in the bag and feasted on seal’s flesh, blubber, and soup as long as they had any room to stow it in. We concurred in the opinion that a better-meal we could not have had. Then down we crawled into the dear bag, which for the present there was no need to part with, and slept the sleep of the just in the knowledge that for the immediate future, at any rate, we need have no anxiety.

“It is my opinion that for the time being we can do nothing better than remain where we are, live on our catch, without encroaching on the sledge provisions, and thus await the time when the ice shall slacken more or the condition of the snow improve. Meanwhile we will rig up wooden grips on our sledges, and try to make the kayaks water-tight. Furthermore, we will lighten our equipment as much as we possibly can. If we were to go on we should only be obliged to leave a great deal of our meat and blubber behind us, and this, in these circumstances, I think would be madness.

“Sunday, June 23d. So this is St.-John’s-eve, and Sunday, too. How merry and happy all the schoolboys are to-day! how the folk at home are starting forth in crowds to the beautiful Norwegian woods and valleys!... And here are we still in the drift-ice; cooking and frying with blubber, eating it and seal’s flesh until the train-oil drips off us, and, above all, not knowing when there will be an end to it all. Perhaps we still have a winter before us. I could hardly have conceived that we should be here now!

“It is a pleasing change, however, after having reduced our rations and fuel to a minimum to be able to launch out into excesses, and eat as much and as often as we like. It is a state of things hardly to be realized at present. The food is agreeable to the taste, and we like it better and better. My own opinion is that blubber is excellent both raw and fried, and it can well take the place of butter. The meat, in our eyes, is as good as meat can be. We had it yesterday for breakfast, in the shape of meat and soup served with raw blubber. For dinner I fried a highly successful steak, not to be surpassed by the ‘Grand’ [Hotel], though a good ‘seidel’ of bock-beer would have been a welcome addition. For supper I made blood-pancakes fried in blubber instead of butter, and they were a success, inasmuch as Johansen pronounced them ‘first-class,’ to say nothing of my own sentiments. This frying, however, inside the tent over a train-oil lamp, is a doubtful pleasure. If the lamp itself does not smoke the blubber does, causing the unfortunate cook the most excruciating pain in the eyes; he can hardly keep them open, and they water copiously. But the consequences could be even worse. The train-oil lamp which I had contrived out of a sheet of German silver became over-heated one day under the hot frying-pan, and at last the whole thing caught fire, both the lumps of blubber and the train-oil. The flame shot up into the air, while I tried by every means in my power to put it out, but it only grew worse. The best thing would have been to convey the whole lamp outside, but there was no time for it. The tent began to fill with suffocating smoke, and as a last resort I unfortunately seized a handful of snow and threw it on to the burning train-oil. It sputtered and crackled, boiling oil flew in all directions, and from the lamp itself rose a sea of flames which filled the whole tent and burned everything they came near. Half-suffocated, we both threw ourselves against the closed door, bursting off the buttons, and dashed headlong into the open air—glad, indeed, to have escaped with our lives. With this explosion the lamp went out; but when we came to examine the tent we found an enormous hole burned in the silk wall above the place where the frying-pan had stood. One of our sledge-sails had to pay the penalty for that hole. We crept back into the tent again, congratulating ourselves, however, on having got off so easily, and, after a great deal of trouble, rekindled a fire so that I could fry the last pancake. We then ate it with sugar, in the best of spirits, and pronounced it the most delicious fare we had ever tasted. We had good reason, too, to be in spirits, for our observation for the day made us in 82° 4.3′ north latitude and 57° 48′ east longitude. In spite of westerly and, in a measure, southwesterly winds, we had come nearly 14′ south in three days and next to nothing east. A highly surprising and satisfactory discovery. Outside, the north wind was still blowing, and consequently we were drifting south towards more clement regions.

“Wednesday, June 26th. June 24th was naturally celebrated with great festivities. In the first place, it was that day two years since we started from home; secondly it was a hundred days since we left the Fram (not really, it was two days more); and, thirdly, it was Midsummer-day. It was, of course, a holiday, and we passed it in dreaming of good times to come, in studying our charts, our future prospects, and in reading anything readable that was to be found—i.e., the almanac and navigation-tables. Johansen took a walk along the lanes, and also managed to miss a ringed seal, or ‘snad,’ as we call it in Norwegian, in a pool here east of us. Then came supper—rather late in the night—consisting of blood-pancakes with sugar, and unsurpassed in flavor. The frying over the oil-lamp took a long time, and in order to have them hot we had to eat each one as it was fried, a mode of procedure which promoted a healthy appetite between each pancake. Thereafter we stewed some of our red whortleberries, and they tasted no less good, although they had been soaked in salt-water in Johansen’s kayak during the catastrophe of a couple of days ago; and after a glorious meal we turned into the bag at 8 o’clock yesterday morning.

“At midday, again, I got up and went out to take a meridian altitude. The weather was brilliant, and it was so long since we had had anything of the kind that I could hardly remember it. I sat up on the hummock, waiting for the sun to come to the meridian, basking in its rays, and looking out over the stretches of ice, where the snow glittered and sparkled on all sides, and at the pool in front of me lying shining and still as a mountain lake, and reflecting its icy banks in the clear water. Not a breath of wind stirred—so still, so still; and the sun baked, and I dreamed myself at home....

“Before going into the tent I went to fetch some salt-water for the soup we were to have for breakfast; but just at that moment a seal came up by the side of the ice, and I ran back for my gun and kayak. Out on the water I discovered that it was leaking like a sieve from lying in the sun, and I had to paddle back faster than I had come out, to avoid sinking. As I was emptying the kayak, up came the seal again in front of me, and this time my shot took effect; the animal lay floating on the water like a cork. It was not many minutes before I had the leaking craft on the water again, and my harpoon in the animal’s neck. I towed it in while the kayak gradually filled, and my legs, or, rather, that part which follows closely above the legs when one is sitting in a canoe, became soaked with water, and my ‘komager’ gradually filled. After having dragged the seal up to the tent, ‘flensed’ it, collected all the blood which was to be had, and cut it up, I crept into the tent, put on some dry underclothes, and into the bag again, while the wet ones were drying outside in the sun. It is easy enough to keep one’s self warm in the tent now. The heat was so great inside it last night that we could hardly sleep, although we lay on the bag instead of in it. When I came back with the seal I discovered that Johansen’s bare foot was sticking out of the tent at a place where the peg had given way; he was sleeping soundly and had no idea of it. After having a small piece of chocolate to commemorate the happy capture, and, looking over my observations, we again settled down to rest.

“It appears, remarkably enough, from our latitude that we are still on the same spot, without any farther drifts southward, in spite of the northerly winds. Can the ice be landlocked? It is not impossible; far off land, at any rate, we cannot be.

“Thursday, June 27th. The same monotonous life, the same wind, the same misty weather, and the same cogitations as to what the future will bring. There was a gale from the north last night, with a fall of hard granular snow, which lashed against the tent walls so that one might think it to be good honest rain. It melted on the walls directly, and the water ran down them. It is cozy in here, however, and the wind does not reach us; we can lie in our warm bag, and listen to the flapping of the tent, and imagine that we are drifting rapidly westward, although perhaps we are not moving from the spot. But if this wind does not move us, the only explanation is that the ice is landlocked, and that we cannot be far off shore. We must wait for an east wind, I suppose, to drive us farther west, and then afterwards south. My hope is that we shall drift into the channel between Franz Josef Land and Spitzbergen while we are lying here. The weather was raw and windy with snowfall, so that it was hardly suitable for outdoor work, particularly as, unfortunately, there was no need to hurry.

“The lanes have changed very much of late; there is hardly anything left of the pool in front of us, over which we paddled, and there has been pressure around us in all directions. I hope the ice will be well ground into pieces, as this enables it to slacken more quickly when the time comes; but that will not be before far on in July, and we ought to have the patience to wait for it perhaps.

“Yesterday we cut some of the seal’s flesh into thin slices and hung them up to dry. We must increase our travelling store and prepare pemmican or dried meat; it will be the easiest way of carrying it with us. Johansen yesterday found a pond of fresh water close by, which is very convenient, and we need no longer melt ice; it is the first good water we have found for cooking purposes. If the seals are few and far between, there are birds still, I am thankful to say. Last night a couple of ivory-gulls (Larus eburneus), were bold enough to settle down on our sealskin, close beside the tent wall, and pecked at the blubber. They were sent off once or twice, but returned. If the meat falls short we must resort to catching birds.”

Thus the days passed by, one exactly like the other; we waited and waited for the snow to melt, and worked desultorily meanwhile at getting ourselves ready to proceed. This life reminded me of some Eskimos who journeyed up a fjord to collect grass for hay; but when they arrived at their destination found it quite short, and so settled down and waited till it was long enough to cut. A suitable condition of the snow was long in coming. On June 29th I write: “Will not the temperature rise sufficiently to make something like an effectual clearance of the snow? We try to pass the time as best we can in talking of how delightful it will be when we get home, and how we shall enjoy life and all its charms, and go through a calculation of chances as to how soon that may be; but sometimes, too, we talk of how well we will arrange for the winter in Spitzbergen, if we should not reach home this year. If it should come to that, we may not even get so far, but have to winter on some place ashore here—no, it can never come to that!

“Sunday, June 30th. So this is the end of June, and we are about the same place as when we began the month. And the state of the snow? Well, better it certainly is not; but the day is fine. It is so warm that we are quite hot lying here inside the tent. Through the open door we can see out over the ice where the sun is glittering through white sailing cirrus clouds on the dazzling whiteness. And then there is a Sunday calm, with a faint breeze mostly from the southeast, I think. Ah me! it is lovely at home to-day, I am sure, with everything in bloom and the fjord quivering in the sunlight; and you are sitting out on the point with Liv, perhaps, or are on the water in your boat. And then one’s eye wanders out through the door again, and I am reminded there is many an ice-floe between now and then, before the time when I shall see it all again.

“Here we lie far up in the north; two grim, black, soot-stained barbarians, stirring a mess of soup in a kettle and surrounded on all sides by ice; by ice and nothing else—shining and white, possessed of all the purity we ourselves lack. Alas, it is all too pure! One’s eye searched to the very horizon for a dark spot to rest on, but in vain. When will it really come to pass? Now we have waited for it two months. All the birds seemed to have disappeared to-day; not even a cheery little auk to be seen. They were here until yesterday, and we have heard them flying north and south, probably to and from land, where they have gone, I suppose, now that there is so little water about in these parts. If only we could move as easily as they!

“Wednesday, July 3d. Why write again? What have I to commit to these pages? Nothing but the same overpowering longing to be home and away from this monotony. One day just like the other, with the exception, perhaps, that before it was warm and quiet, while the last two days there has been a south wind blowing, and we are drifting northward. Found from a meridian altitude yesterday that we have drifted back to 82° 8.4′ N., while the longitude is about the same. Both yesterday and the day before we had to a certain extent really brilliant sunshine, and this for us is a great rarity. The horizon in the south was fairly clear yesterday, which it had not been for a long time; but we searched it in vain for land. I do not understand it....

“We had a fall of snow last night, and it dripped in here so that the bag became wet. This constant snowfall, which will not turn to rain, is enough to make one despair. It generally takes the form of a thick layer of new snow on the top of the old, and this delays the thaw.

“This wind seems to have formed some lanes in the ice again, and there is a little more bird-life. We saw some little auks again yesterday; they came from the south, probably from land.

“Saturday, July 6th. 33.8° Fahr. (+1° C.). Rain. At last, after a fortnight, we seem to have got the weather we have been waiting for. It has rained the whole night and forenoon, and is still at it—real, good rain: so now, perhaps, this everlasting snow will take itself off; it is as soft and loose as scum. If only this rain would go on for many days! But before we have time to look round there will be a cold wind with snow, a crust will form, and again we must wait. I am too used to disappointment to believe in anything. This is a school of patience; but nevertheless the rain has put us in good spirits.

“The days drag wearily by. We work in an intermittent way at the kayak grips of wood for our sledges, and at calking and painting our kayaks to make them water-tight. The painting, however, causes me a good deal of trouble. I burned bones here for many days till the whole place smelled like the bone-dust works at Lysaker; then came the toilsome process of pounding and grating them to make them perfectly fine and even. The bone-dust was thereupon mixed with train-oil, and at last I got as far as a trial, but the paint proved uncompromisingly to be perfectly useless. So now I must mix it with soot, as I had first intended, and add more oil. I am now occupied in smoking the place out in my attempts to make soot; but all my exertions, when it comes to collecting it, only result in a little pinch, although the smoke towered in the air, and they might have seen it in Spitzbergen. There is a great deal to do battle with when one has not a shop next door. What would I not give for a little bucket of oil-paint, only common lampblack! Well, well; we shall find a way out of the difficulty eventually, but meanwhile we are growing like sweeps.

“On Wednesday evening ‘Haren’ was killed; poor beast, he was not good for much latterly, but he had been a first-rate dog, and it was hard, I fancy, for Johansen to part with him; he looked sorrowfully at the animal before it went to the happy hunting-grounds, or wherever it may be draught-dogs go to. Perhaps to places where there are plains of level ice and no ridges and lanes. There are only two dogs left now—‘Suggen’ and ‘Kaifas’—and we must keep them alive as long as we can, and have use for them.

“The day before yesterday, in the evening, we suddenly discovered a black hillock to the east. We examined it through the glass and it looked absolutely like a black rock emerging from the snows. It also somewhat exceeded the neighboring hummocks in height. I scrutinized it carefully from the highest ridge hereabouts, but could not make it out. I thought it too big to be only a piled-up hummock mixed with black ice or earthy matter, and I had never seen anything of the kind before. That it is an island seems highly improbable; for although we are certainly drifting, it remains in the same position in relation to us. We saw it yesterday, and see it still to-day in the same quarter. I think the most reasonable supposition is that it is an iceberg.

“No sooner does the horizon clear in the south than one of us may be seen taking his customary walk to the ‘watch-tower’ (a hummock beside the tent) to scan for land, sometimes with a glass, sometimes without it; but there is nothing to be seen but the same bare horizon.10

“Every day I take a turn round the ice in our neighborhood to see if the snow has decreased, but it always seems to be about the same, and sometimes I have moments of doubt as to whether it will clear away at all this summer. If not, our prospects will be more than dark. The best we can hope for will then be a winter somewhere or other on Franz Josef Land. But now the rain has come. It is pouring down the tent walls and dripping on the ice. Everything looks hopeful again, and we are picturing the delights of the autumn and winter at home.

“Wednesday, July 10th. It is a curious thing that now, when I really have something of a little more interest than usual to relate, I have less inclination to write than ever. Everything seems to become more and more indifferent. One longs only for one single thing, and still the ice is lying out there covered with impassable snow.

“But what was it I had to say? Oh yes, that we made ourselves such a good bed yesterday with bearskins under the bag; that we slept the clock round without knowing it, and I thought it was six in the morning when I turned out. When I came out of the tent I thought there was something remarkable about the position of the sun, and pondered over it for a little while, until I came to the conclusion that it was six in the evening, and that we had slumbered for twenty-two hours. We have not slept much of late, as we have been broken on the wheel, so to speak, by the snow-shoes we had to place under the bag, in order to keep it clear of the pools of water under us. The apologies for hair still existing here and there on the skin at the bottom of the bag do not afford much protection against the sharp edges of the snow-shoes.

“This beneficent rain continued the whole day on Saturday, doing away with a fair amount of snow, and we rejoice to hear it. To celebrate the good weather we determined to have chocolate for supper; otherwise we live entirely on our catch. We had the chocolate accordingly, and served with raw blubber it tasted quite excellent. It was the cause of a great disappointment, however, for after having looked forward immoderately to this, now so rare, treat, I managed clumsily to upset my whole cup, so that all the precious contents ran out over the ice. While I was lying waiting for a second cup—it was boiling over the train-oil lamp—‘Kaifas’ began to bark outside. Not doubting but that he had seen an animal, I jumped up to hurry off to the lookout hummock to scan the ice. Not a little surprised was I when I poked my head out of the tent door to see a bear come jogging up to the dogs and begin sniffing at ‘Kaifas.’ I sprang to the gun, which stood ready in the snow beside the tent, and pulled off the case, the bear meanwhile standing astonished and glaring at me. I sent it a ball through the shoulder and chest, certain that it would drop on the spot. It half staggered over, and then turned round and made off, and before I could extract a new cartridge from my pocket, which was full of everything else, was away among the hummocks. I could not get a shot at it where it was, and set off in pursuit. I had not gone many steps before we saw (Johansen had followed me) two more heads appearing a little way farther on. They belonged to two cubs, which were standing on their hind-legs and looking at their mother, who came reeling towards them, with a trail of blood behind her. Then off they went, all three, over a lane, and a wild chase began over plains and ridges and lanes and every kind of obstacle, but it made no difference to their pace. A wonderful thing this love of sport; it is like setting fire to a fuse. Where at other times it would be laborious work to get on at all, where one sinks to the knees in the snow, and where one would hesitate before choosing a way over the lane, let only the spark be kindled, and one clears every obstacle without thinking about it. The bear was severely wounded, and dragged her left fore-leg; she did not go fast, but always so fast that I had my work cut out to keep near her. The cubs ran round her in their solicitude, and generally a little way in front, as if to get her to come with them; they little knew what was the matter with her. Suddenly they all three looked back at me, as I was crashing after them as fast as I could. I had been within range many times, but the bear had had her hind quarters towards me, and when I fired I meant to be sure of making an end of her, as I only had three cartridges with me, one for each of them. At last, on the top of a huge hummock, I got a sight of her broadside on, and there, too, she dropped. The cubs hurried anxiously up to her when she fell—it made one sorry to see them—they sniffed at and pushed her, and ran round and round, at a loss what to do in their despair. Meanwhile I had put another cartridge in the rifle, and picked off the other cub as it was standing on a projection. It fell over the declivity with a growl, and down on to its mother. Still more frightened than before, the other cub hastened to its succor; but, poor thing, what could it do? While its brother rolled over, growling, it stood there looking sorrowfully sometimes at it, sometimes at the mother, who lay dying in a pool of blood. When I approached, it turned its head away indifferently; what did it care about me now? All its kindred, everything it held dear, lay there mutilated and destroyed. It no longer knew whither to go, and did not move from the spot. I went right up to it, and, with a spherical ball through the breast, it fell dead beside its mother.

“Johansen soon came up. A lane had detained him, so that he had lost ground. We opened the animals, took out the entrails, and then went back to the tent to fetch the sledges and dogs and proper flaying-knives. Our second cup of chocolate in the tent tasted very good after this interruption. When we had skinned and cut up the two bears we left them in a heap, covered over with the skins to protect the meat from the gulls; the third one we took back with us. The next day we fetched the others, and now have more meat food than we shall be able to consume, I hope. It is a good thing, though, that we can give the dogs as much raw meat as they will eat; they certainly require it. ‘Suggen,’ poor thing, is in a very bad way, and it is a question whether we can get any more work out of him. When we took him with us after the bears the first day, he could not walk, and we had to place him on the sledge; but then he howled so terrifically, as much as to say it was beneath his dignity to be transported in this way, that Johansen had to take him home again. The dogs seem to be attacked with a paralysis of the legs; they fall down, and have the greatest difficulty in rising. It has been the same with all of them, from ‘Gulen’ downward. ‘Kaifas,’ however, is as fresh and well as ever.

“It is remarkable how large these cubs were. I could hardly imagine that they were born this year, and should without hesitation have put them down as a year old if the she-bear had not been in milk, and it is hardly to be supposed that the cubs would suck for a year and a half. Those we shot by the Fram on November 4th last year were hardly half the size of these. It would seem as if the polar bear produces its young at different times of the year. In the paunches of the cubs were pieces of skin from a seal.

“Monday, July 15th. As we were working at the kayaks yesterday a Ross’s gull (Rhodostethia rosea) came flying by. It was a full-grown bird, and made a turn when just over us, showing its pretty rose-colored breast, and then disappeared again in the mist southward. On Thursday I saw another adult Ross’s gull, with a black ring round its neck; it came from the northeast, and flew in a southwesterly direction. Otherwise it is remarkable how all the birds have disappeared from here. The little auk is no longer to be seen or heard; the only birds are an ivory-gull now and then, and occasionally a fulmar.

“Wednesday, July 17th. At last the time is drawing near when we can be off again and start homeward in earnest. The snow has decreased sufficiently to make advance fairly easy. We are doing our utmost to get ready. The grips on the sledges are nicely arranged, and provided with cushions of bearskin on Johansen’s and of cloth on mine. This is in order to give the kayaks a firm and soft bed and prevent chafing. The kayaks are painted with soot and train-oil, and have been calked with pastels (for drawing), crushed and also mixed with train-oil; that is to say, as far as these various ingredients would go. We are now using a mixture of stearine, pitch, and resin,11 to finish up with. A thorough revision of our equipment will take place, and everything not absolutely invaluable will be left behind. We must say good-bye here to the sleeping-bag and tent.12 Our days of comfort are past, and henceforth until we are on board the sloop13 we will live under the open sky.

“Meanwhile we have lain here—‘Longing Camp,’ as we call it—and let the time slip by. We have eaten bear-meat morning, noon, and night, and, so far from being tired of it, have made the discovery that the breast of the cubs is quite a delicacy. It is remarkable that this exclusive meat and fat diet has not caused us the slightest discomfort in any way, and we have no craving for farinaceous food, although we might, perhaps, regard a large cake as the acme of happiness. Every now and then we cheer ourselves up with lime-juice grog, a blood-pancake, or some stewed whortleberries, and let our imaginations run riot over all the amenities of civilization, which we mean to enjoy to the full when we get home! Perhaps it will be many a long day before we get there; perhaps there will be many a hard trial to overcome. But, no; I will believe the best. There are still two months of summer left, and in them something can be done.

“Friday, July 19th. Two full-grown Ross’s gulls flew over here from the northeast and went west this morning. When far off they uttered cries which reminded me of that of the wryneck, and which I at first thought came from a little auk. They flew quite low, just over my head, and the rose-color of their under-parts could be seen plainly. Another Ross’s gull flew by here yesterday. It is strange that there should be so many of them. Where are we?

“Tuesday, July 23d. Yesterday forenoon we at last got clear of ‘Longing Camp,’ and now, I am thankful to say, we are again on the move. We have worked day and night to get off. First we thought it would be on the 19th, then the 20th, and then the 21st, but something always cropped up that had to be done before we could leave. The bread, which had been soaked in sea-water, had to be carefully dried in the frying-pan over the lamp, and this took several days; then the socks had to be patched, and the kayaks carefully looked over, etc. We were determined to start on our last journey home in good repair, and so we did. Everything goes like wildfire. The chances of progress are better than we expected, although the ice is anything but even; the sledges are lighter to draw, now that everything that can be dispensed with is left behind, and the snow, too, has decreased considerably. On the last part of the journey yesterday we could even go without snow-shoes, and, as a matter of course, progress among the ridges and irregularities, where they are difficult to manage, is quicker without them. Johansen performed a feat by crossing a lane alone in his kayak, with ‘Suggen’ lying on the fore-deck, while he himself knelt on the after-deck and balanced the craft as he paddled. I began to try the same with mine, but found it too cranky to risk the attempt, and preferred to tow it over, with ‘Kaifas’ on the deck, while I went carefully alongside and jumped over on some pieces of ice.

“We have now the advantage of finding drinking-water everywhere. We are also eating our old provender again; but, curiously enough, neither Johansen nor I think the farinaceous food as good as one might suppose after a month of meat diet. It is good to be under way again, and not the least pleasant part about it is our lighter sledges; but then we certainly left a good deal behind at ‘Longing Camp.’ In addition to a respectable mound of meat and blubber, we left three fine bearskins. Our friend, the bag, too, is lying on the top of the bears; a quantity of wood, consisting of the boards from under the sledges, the snow-shoes and other things, more than half of Blessing’s fine medicaments—plaster-of-Paris bandages, soft steam-sterilized gauze bandages, hygroscopic cotton wadding—to say nothing of a good aluminium horizon-glass, rope, our combined frying-pan and melter, half an aluminium cap belonging to the cooker, sheets of German silver, a train-oil lamp of the same, bags, tools, sail-cloth, Finn shoes, our wolfskin fingerless gloves, also woollen ones, a geological hammer, half a shirt, socks, and other sundries, all strewn about in chaotic confusion. Instead of all these we have an augmentation in the form of a sack of dried seal’s and bear’s flesh and the other half of the aluminium cap full of blubber. We are now thoroughly divested of all superfluous articles, and there is hardly so much as a bit of wood to be had if one should want a stick to slip through the end of the hauling-rope.”